#so this boy i worked with today is probably in a really abusive household and now im stressed and anxious as shit worrying about him

[nickbutnodick]

being great with kids has this unforseen negative side effect that i am in no way equipped to cope with

[alwaysanundertone]

Love can be overwhelming | poly! marauders x reader

angst

word count: 1.4 k

CW: mention of abusive household

tag list: @reggieswriter @call-me-mishi @moonyxoxo

part 1, part 2, part 3

Losing a Quidditch game usually resulted in James and Sirius taking their anger out on you, which you didn’t mind at all, but today was different. This time, Remus wasn’t going to leave you with the boys, Sirius was clearly upset with you, and James was probably going to be pissed for the loss.

You took a deep breath, taking Remus’s hand in yours and going straight to your dorm, waiting for your other boyfriends. You were pacing the room in front of Remus, the anxiety eating you alive; what you hated the most was the fact that you knew for sure that Sirius was mad at you.

“I’m an awful person, Rem, I couldn’t give Siri the attentions he needed when he was in pain“

“That’s right, you didn’t!” Sirius entered your room, James behind him. “I thought that being in a polyamorous relationship meant that I could count on three people when I was sad, instead you left me with poor James, do you want to stop this relationship now? So that you and Remus can go live happily ever after?! What the fuck, Y/N”

You felt your breath quicken, you knew that if he kept this up, you were going to break. “Sirius, you have to understand that- “

“No! None of that, I don’t want to hear it! You know what, Y/N? You’re just as heartless as everybody says, I was just too blind to see how the rumours were true.” You felt a pang to your chest, you knew that Sirius didn’t mean what he was saying, but it hurt you still. You spent your whole life battling against the fact that you usually didn’t know how to show love to the people you cared about, but you thought you’ve been good to them, you thought that all your efforts were seen. “You don’t give a fuck about other people’s wellbeing; you didn’t even ask me what happened! If we lost today, it was all your fault, you’re a self-centred-“

“Knock it off, Black. You don’t get to treat her like that! Just because your family is treating you like shit doesn’t mean you have to make everybody else feel what you’re feeling.”

“Remus, you’re the one to talk” You whipped your head in James’s direction. “You are the reason behind this mess, if you could control your stupid instincts everything would have been fine, and we’d be here celebrating our victory”

He scoffed. “Yeah, because it’s my fault if you both suck at Quidditch, isn’t it?” They kept on bickering, but you weren’t listening to them anymore, your mind too focused on Sirius words. You hated yourself for not being enough for them, maybe Dorcas was right, maybe you should have thought about it before diving headfirst in a poly relationship; you weren’t even sure if you were made for a relationship, period.  

“What, Y/N, too focused on yourself to care about our feelings?”

You decided you had enough, you needed time to think, and Sirius anger wasn’t helping you at all. “You know what? Yes, I am, because the ones who were supposed to love me just treated me like everybody else. So go fuck yourself, next time you’ll need me, I’ll be gone” You stormed off their dorm, running to your room and casting a spell, leaving them behind.

As you were about to start sobbing, Dorcas entered the room, sighing as she saw you on your bed. “You were right, Cas, maybe I’m not made for a relationship”

She shook her head, hugging you tightly. “Shh, don’t think about it now, okay? Tomorrow you’ll have time to process all of this, now you just have to rest.” She started scratching your back, singing a lullaby, and you found yourself falling in a deep slumber.

“Hey, Y/N” You mumbled something, covering your face with the duvet. “Y/N. It’s 2 P.M., you have to start studying”

That made you sit up so quickly, you felt dizzy. “Shit, the test” How could  you be so dumb?  Sacrificing all of the work you put to ace this test for a stupid fight was really pathetic, even for you.

“Yeah, the test, listen I finished your notes and made you some flashcards, now you just have to start studying, but first you should eat-“

The idea of seeing the marauders made you physically ill. “I don’t want to go-“

“Yes, I know, I brough you some food” She shook a paper bag in front of you. The fact that she spent her morning doing your work and even brought you food made you feel really close to crying, and she noticed it. “Nope, no more crying. I know you, you’re about to thank me, don’t do that! I’m your best friend, I love you and this is nothing, okay? I just want you to be happy, and I know you will feel like shit if you don’t pass this test. So, start studying, okay?” She kissed the top of your head. “I got to go, Marlene’s waiting for me. Love you, bye!”

She left you on the bed, staring at the now closed door.

You looked at the sandwich: she knew you too well, if she didn’t bring you food you wouldn’t have eaten, but since she brought it to you, you felt guilty.

You pulled out your flashcards and started eating, you could be heartbroken, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to fail for your stupid feelings.

Meanwhile, Sirius just woke up. His head was feeling heavy, but most of all, he was regretting every single thing he said to you. Deep down, he knew that you were just trying to be there for everyone, and that it wasn’t an easy task. Remus didn’t control his instincts; he couldn’t blame him for being clingy.

“Someone’s decided to grace us with his presence” The werewolf was looking down at him, his brows furrowed: he knew that look, he was mad.

“I’m so, so sorry” And just like that came the tears. Remus was stubborn, but if there was something that made him cave, that was his lovers’ tears, so he hugged him close to his chest. “I was awful to you yesterday, Y/N is going to leave us, I know it, and I hate to be the one to do this to you. If you want to leave me I will understand”

James scoffed. “Leave you? You really think we are this heartless? We know you didn’t want to act like that, Sirius. We just want to know what is happening, and then we’ll go and apologize to Y/N”

Remus scratched his head. “Thing is, I don’t know how we will get to her. I went to her room earlier and Cas was about to physically fight me”

“She won’t fight us, Rem, for God’s sake we’re Y/N’s boyfriends, she can’t stand between us. Back to you, Sirius, can you tell us why you acted that way?”

The long-haired man sighed. “It’s just- You know how awful the relationship with my family is, and I know it’s wrong but when I get their letters I don’t want to talk about it, I just expect everyone to know how I’m feeling and what to do about it. So, when she wasn’t there for me this time, I lashed out. Rationally, I know that Remus wasn’t being clingy because he didn’t want to share her, but because he gets super protective during the full moon. I hate myself for treating her that way, for using her weakness against  her, but I didn’t know how to communicate how I was feeling, so I just took my anger out on her, in the wrong way” He chuckled sadly. “If I was her, I’d break up with me.”

James shook his head. “She’s too good for her own good, Sirius, you know she won’t ever leave you. But we’ll have to talk it out, you know? You’ll have to be vulnerable, and I know  it’s difficult, but you’ll have to try for us”

Sirius nodded, everything for you. James pulled out the map, but as soon as he saw your name, gasped.

“What? What have you seen?”

“Y/N is in the infirmary” They exchanged a look, running out of their dorm room.

[jangofettjamz]

Unlovable Child

Jenna Ortega x Autistic!Male!Reader

Warnings: Child abuse

2nd Person POV

"I'm going out of town for a week to see my parents" you tell Jenna. The two of you were snuggled up together on the couch, binge watching The Mandalorian on Disney+.

"Oh, do you want some company?" Jenna offered to which you shook your head no. Your parents wasn't exactly the gold standard when it comes to parenting, in fact they'd probably win an award as being one of the worst.

You've never discussed your parents with Jenna because of this, not wanting her to be involved with them due to their toxic nature. You feared that exposing them to her would only cause more trouble than its worth.

"You sure you don't want me to come with? I can--"

"No no you really don't have to" you said, cutting her off a little too quickly to go unnoticed. She gave you a look of suspicion, knowing there was likely some underlying tension between your parents and you.

You tried to put her at ease "I-I mean... they haven't seen me for a while... I wouldn't want to overwhelm them by introducing you to them... y'know given your fame and all. No offence"

Your stuttering and lack of a believable reason wasn't enough to ease Jenna's growing concern for you, but she smiled anyway, which in turn made you smile. You knew she wasn't convinced.

She pulled you in closer, making sure you were nestled into her chest. She had a feeling deep down that you were keeping something from; something terrible. Anxiousness flooded her nervous system, making her rethink about letting you go.

Her heartbeat quickened because of this, something you caught by having your head on her chest. "Jenna? Are you okay?" You asked.

She looked at you and smiled to put you at ease "Everything's fine, sweet boy. Everything's okay." She reassured, kissing your forehead to ease your worries.

But it wasn't her you were worried about, it was meeting your parents for the first time in years. The last time you spoke to your parents was 2 years prior, just before you moved out for your new job, just before you met Jenna for the first time. It didn't exactly end on the greatest of terms.

You parents were vile; abelists who took pleasure in calling you the most horrid of insults for their own sick pleasure. It made them feel better about themselves, like they were superior. They were never proud of you, even though your academics should make them so. They could never be proud of someone like you, someone who was autistic.

Of course, with many dysfunctional households come with their fair share of physical abuse, which in your case was fairly common place. The slightest of mistakes ended in severe punishment, that being knocking a drink over, talking to loudly .etc.

You were deemed a failure in the eyes of your parents despite everything you've accomplished in school, your well paying job; it meant nothing. You were never good enough for them. You were simply too much of a "spaz" to love. You were nothing to them, only when money was an issue were you of any use.

You held Jenna a little tighter just think about this. Painful memories from your past flashed through your mind, reminding you of the awful people they were.

But you maybe they had changed, maybe they realised the error of their ways, you naively thought to yourself, only setting yourself up for a meeting that would inevitably send you crashing down.

But you had to believe. "They have changed. Of course they changed, they only said and did all that stuff to make me into the man I am today. They love me. Don't they?"

- 1 day later

Jenna was on the phone with her director discussing filming dates. She was currently working multiple films at once and needed to negotiate dates so that it wouldn't impede on her schedule.

You always admired how she could do so many films at once, though, you wished she would take a break sometimes as it can tire her out.

Jenna's phone call was immediately interrupted by the sound of the door opening revealing your figure. "Mark I'm gonna have to call you back" she hangs up the phone, confused as to why you were back 6 days earlier than anticipated.

You were wearing sunglasses, unusual considering the weather outside was quite gloomy. Perhaps you just felt like wearing them, she thought to herself.

"Hi, baby boy." She kisses your cheek, but noticed that it looked awfully red and... swollen? "You're back early. Did everything go okay down there?" Jenna asked to which you nodded with a smile, albeit a dishonest smile.

"Yeah everything went great, just gad to cut the trip short because they were busy and stuff. My parents are busy people after all" you say in a somewhat cheery tone. The swollen part of your face was pulsing, as though the nerve endings in your face had been set alight.

Jenna continued to examine your face, still finding it strange that you haven't taken off your shades yet. "Wait, he wasn't even wearing shades when he left. Why was he wearing them now?" She thought, trying to ascertain the situation.

She noticed your hands were shaking; odd considering you were always calm around her most of the time and it wasn't cold indoors because of the heating. One of your arms was holding your stomach too.

All this information, combined with the fact that your back 6 days ahead of schedule is enough to tell Jenna that something was very very wrong.

"Hey babe can you take off those glasses for me? I wanna see those pretty eyes of yours." She asked sweetly, forceful was not the right approach. You looked at her, trying to strum up a lame excuse not to oblige.

"No!" He exclaims, catching Jenna off guard. You quickly try to come up with a better excuse. "I mean i-it's really bright in here Jenna, my eyes are kinda tired from driving, y'know" you play off terribly, adding a smile to try and convince otherwise.

Jenna isn't buying it, you know this. She's too smart. "Y/N your face is bright red, and swollen" His smile quickly drops. "Your hands are shaking too, and I can see a cut behind your hair. You and I both know it isn't cold in here and that cut is recent too." She exhales sadly, turning her attention too your stomach "You're holding you're stomach babe, like you're in pain. What happened over there?"

You panic, you knew she wasn't an idiot but you can't bare to let her find out about your parents, about your past. It was too embarrassing, she'd surely leave you for not being man enough to fight back. That what your father had conditioned you to believe, that you weren't a real man because of your condition, that you were sub-human.

"I-I d-dont--" "let me see your eyes, my love" bowing your head in defeat, you allowed Jenna to remove your shades, the sight horrified her, sending shivers down to the deepest depths of her soul. She gasped, her hands covering her mouth as you she saw the damage.

A massive purple bruise covered your right eye, the eye itself was completely red. The area around the eye was completely swollen too. The left eye was also bruised, not as bad but still bruised nonetheless.

Anger bubbled within Jenna, the prospect of someone hurting her baby was sickening to her, she knoew this had to be your parent's doing. "They did this to you, didn't they"

"W-what no! They would never do this to me. My family love me, Jenna. They do" you tried convince her, you tried to convince yourself mostly. Tears pricked at your eyes, stinging even more due to the beating you took.

"Honey... why would they do this to you? What happened?" She asked gently with a tinge of sadness in her tone. You couldn't keep up with the lie any longer.

You took a deep breath. You wanted to tell her what happened, tell her about the desperation you felt when your father's belt connected with your back. How your mother held you down as he did it, beating and beating and beating you for being the spaz who disappointed his parents just by looking at him. She held your hands "It's okay. It's just me. Just Jenna"

A single tear fell down your cheek causing Jenna to wipe it away. "They wanted money..." you started, taking a deep breath before continuing "They wanted money that were apparently "owed" for not getting rid of me. I said no, and I'm sure you can imagine how they reacted to that. They beat me, Jenna. They both did. I couldn't stop them, I tried as hard as I could but they kept..." you sniffled, holding back what would have been a giant sob.

"They kept pummelling me with the belt, punching me in the stomach. Mom held me down and I couldn't anything. They said I was unlovable... I'm unlovable, Jenna!" He broke down completely, falling onto his knees. Your emotions that you'd been holding since you left your parents had escaped, the dull pain now fresh again.

Jenna lifted the back of your shirt to find the purple lashes that layed there, where your father had taken out his anger with the belt. She immediately held you, her own eyes tearing up at your broken state. You clung to her like a lifeline.

"Shhhh, its okay baby. You're safe now. You're safe with me again." He whales in anguish and pain, his sobs became louder as each one left his mouth.

"Jen it hurts" you said like a scared child, exactly what you were at your parent's house.

Upon hearing this Jenna decided it was best for you to lay down on your side to avoid laying on your lashed back. "Come on, honey let's lay you on the couch. Lay on your side for me, my sweet." You did as instructed.

She lifted up your top to see the bruises on your stomach, purple and still fresh. She was going to annihilate your parents, but that comes later. "I'm gonna go get an ice pack, then we're taking you to the hospital"

"No! No! Please no doctors!" You pleaded

She knelt down and stroked your hair to out you at ease as best she could "Shh shh shh, don't think about that now okay. Let me go get an ice pack for your stomach. I'll be right back." She left quickly for the ice, returning as quickly as she left.

She lifted up your shirt and let you get ready for the ice. "On three. One. Two. Three." She presses the ice to your abdomen, the cooling sensation soothed the pain little by little bringing you great relief. "Good boy baby, you being so brave for me" she cooed, kissing the top of his head.

She held the ice pack as you writhed in pain on the couch. Her free hand alternates between rubbing your arm and combing through your hair. She placed little kisses on your swollen cheek, not hurting at all when she did.

The recollection of events that played in your mind caused you to cry again. Jenna brought your head into her neck as she held you close, her skin absorbing most of the tears. "Oh baby, please don't cry. You're not unlovable. You're my very beautiful boy who I love so very very much. They don't deserve you."

You held onto her tight, thinking how lucky you were to have such a wonderful woman in your life. Your parents would've definitely said you didn't deserve her, and maybe you didn't. But that didn't detract from how much you loved her, and appreciated her.

"I love you, Y/N. I love you with every fibre of my being" hearing this made you smile out of pure gratitude and love.

"I love you too, Jenna" you say, voice still wobbly from crying. You pulled your head from the crook of her neck and the two of you just smile at each other, you took in the beauty of her face while Jenna gazed upon your battered one. She pulls you in for a gentle kiss, a long kiss that you desperately needed.

"Bubs we do need to get your tummy looked at. We'll call my mom to have a look at you, but we may need to go to the hospital if it's bad. We can do all that tomorrow though, just rest in my arms for now. Can you do that for me?" You nodded your head "I won't let them get away with this Y/N. Mark my words they're finished."

You'd never seen Jenna this angry, but it brought a strange sense of reassurance, like everything was going to be okay. "Can we watch a movie? I wanna take my mind off of this"

"Of course we can, bubs. What do you wanna watch? Empire strikes back?" She asked, knowing how much you loved that movie. You nodded making her smile and kiss you again.

She layed down next to you, inviting you to curl up next to her and lay your head on her chest. "You're not unlovable, flower. You're a very loveable and amazing person." You smile at her words, Jenna loved you very much and today was evidence of that.

She cradles your body in her arms, still feeling you tremble from everything that has happened. It would be a long road to you heal from this but she'd be with you the whole way there.

She gently rocks you while you watch the film, the sight of Darth Vader igniting your child-like love that Jenna adored.

"Hey bubs, promise you'll never think yourself as unlovable. Promise me that my love."

"I promise." You say, even though you still didn't fully believe it. Your parents words still hurt.

"Good boy. My special beautiful boy"

[tirednerd2012]

We’ll Be Okay, Part 1

Trigger Warning: Child Abuse and harsh, homophobic insults. Please read with caution.

Jonathan Byers loved his family. Well, his brother and his mother. Truthfully, he felt no love towards his father, though he would never admit it, mostly because he was afraid of what would happen to him if he did. His mom worked long hours to provide for their household and his dad would work a few hours but would use most of his money for alcohol. This left the 12-year-old responsible for his 8-year-old brother, Will. Not that he minded. He loved Will. With their mom being gone all the time, Will was Jonathan’s main, arguably only, source of happiness.

He cooked them breakfast, lunch and dinner. He watched Will when he wasn’t over at the Wheeler’s house. The Wheelers were good people and Mike was a good friend to Will and Jonathan was grateful for it. But on the days he stayed home, the brothers would hang out, mostly in one of their rooms to avoid their father.

“Jonathan, Jonathan.” Will’s voice woke Jonathan up. At first, the only thing he could register was Will shaking him awake, but then he heard yelling. His parents were arguing in the living room. He looked at his clock. 6:03 a.m.

He got up and shut his bedroom door, then locked it. Mom would be leaving in 20 minutes for work and there was no doubt in Jonathan’s mind that Lonnie would try to take some anger out on one of the boys, specifically, him. He never allowed Lonnie to go after Will.

“It’s alright. It’ll be over soon,” Jonathan assured him. He debated on turning the radio on but thought against it as it was still early in the morning and their father would be sure to yell the moment Mom left. If they were quiet, they could pass for still being asleep. He went back to bed and wrapped his arms around Will.

“It’s so early for him to already be mad,” Will whispered as he laid back down. Jonathan nodded.

“It’ll be okay. Just be quiet and we’ll wait it out,” Jonathan said. “You can try to go back to sleep, okay? I’m right here.”

Will nodded before closing his eyes again. The oldest of the two didn’t attempt to sleep again but prayed that he could shield Will from what was bound to happen today. His ribs were still hurting from when his father kicked him two days ago, which could be a problem, but he didn’t bring it up. They needed the money Lonnie brought in, and if he were to leave, they would lose the second source of income. Lonnie made it very clear to Jonathan that if they lost the income, his mom and Will would suffer greatly because of it.

So, he never told his mom when Lonnie hit him. He didn’t really consider him to be a father, but he went along with it. Will went along with it. Lonnie had never laid a hand on Will. Jonathan never gave him the opportunity, but truthfully, he probably knew if Will got hurt, Jonathan would tell their mom. The youngest member of the family was to be protected, a job that fell on him. Even when Lonnie insulted him, Jonathan came in and immediately told him how amazing he was.

Someone started slamming on his bedroom door. Will awoke, clutching fistfuls of Jonathan’s shirt.

“Jonathan! I know you’re awake! Come out here, boy!”

“Will, get under the bed. I’ll get rid of him,” Jonathan whispered.

“He’s going to hurt you.”

“Will, now. It’ll be okay, just go,” Jonathan repeated. This time, Will followed Jonathan’s orders and hid under the bed. Jonathan opened the door only to immediately be dragged out into the hallway.

“Why were the boys telling me that Tommy Hagan is picking on you?”

“It’s nothing, sir,” Jonathan said. Lonnie didn’t let go of his shirt.

“Why are you such a useless fag?” Lonnie asked. Jonathan didn’t answer. There was no right answer. He could stand up for himself, get hit. Not say anything, get hit. Agree with him, get hit. Nothing would save him when Lonnie was in a mood.

Lonnie slapped him once, hard in the face. Jonathan was temporarily blinded by the white pain that left his face throbbing. He was expecting another hit, a kick, something, but Lonnie didn’t.

“You need to learn to be a man. The world is going to eat you alive until you do. I’m going back to bed. Keep the kid away from me today,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Jonathan said. Lonnie shook his head in disgust towards the oldest son, but didn’t say anything. He walked into his room and slammed the door. 

Will was by Jonathan’s side in a moment. The side of his face was still burning from the hit, but Will helped him up. 

“Jonathan?”

“I’m fine, bud. I’m fine,” Jonathan assured him. He looked back at his father’s door. “Come on, I’ll make us some breakfast.”

Despite how much it hurt, Jonathan hadn’t cried in front of Lonnie since he was 8 after the hunting incident. It never helped, if anything it made it worse and he refused to give Lonnie any more ammo. It was the only thing he had. 

“Jonathan, are you sure you’re okay?” Will asked as Jonathan made the eggs and toast. 

He looked over at his little brother from the kitchen table, who looked at him with wide, worry eyes. As much as Jonathan loved Will, he knew Will thought the world of him and wanted him to be okay. But this was what was best for the family. If Jonathan had to suffer for his mom and brother’s well being, he was fine with that.

“Yeah, bud. Don’t go worrying about me.”

[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 2. math

Previous | Next

[warnings: cursing, mention of smoking, mention of household abuse of a teenager]

"what a plot twist you were."

—

The next day, you'd wakened with dry lungs and an even drier mouth.

It was true that smoking was bad for you—but it hadn't been as horrible as you'd thought. You'd try it again, but you couldn't see yourself becoming addicted.

Your mother wasn't home, again. You were quick to understand that she worked longer shifts now and you wouldn't see her a whole lot.

Not like you cared. Michelle never really liked you all that well. You'd probably have been dumped on the street a long time ago had your father not legally obligated to pay child support.

You'd never known him. You weren't sure if you wanted to.

She doesn't use child support for your well-being. Probably uses it to continuously feed her crippling gambling addiction and buy more pointless flowers for the apartment.

You were nervous about today. You'd never been the new girl before—and you didn't know what to expect about these kids. You doubted they were as cool as people as Larry and Sal.

You showered and put on your boyfriend jeans—which had holes in the knees, but you couldn't bother to concern yourself whether or not that conflicted with the dress code or not— and your light grey hoodie. You added a flannel on top of that which was a little too big for you. Don't forget the white sneakers which you should probably replace.

You pocketed your flip phone and slung your bag over your shoulder. Stopping in front of the mirror, you passed a hand through your hair, decided it was adequate, and walked into the kitchen. You grabbed an apple—you never really found yourself hungry in the mornings. Besides, it wasn't like your mother was around to make sure you were fed—and left the apartment.

You locked the door behind you and shoved the keys into the front pocket of your bag afterward.

You met with Sal and Larry at the foot of the front steps of the apartments, like you'd agreed the day prior. You couldn't help but feel a little nervous as you opened the door and walked down the three stairs.

"Hey!" Larry greets you first.

"Hey, Larry," you smile weakly, as you're not fully awake yet, but it still means as much as a smile you'd give him when you were awake. You turn your eyes to Sal, waving shortly. You were momentarily startled when you realized he'd already been looking at you. "Hi, Sal."

"Hey," he says your name pleasantly. "How are you feeling?"

It was sweet that he was concerned about your well-being. "Alright. My lungs hurt."

He hooked a thumb around the strap of his bag and slid it up and down. His hands were pale and veiny. His nails were painted black and the polish was chipped in a few places. "Yeah. You did a shit-ton of coughing."

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can he meets your eyes. His head is inclined slightly downward, tilted a bit. He peers at you through the shadows of the mask. Lash-fringed, blue angel eyes bore through yours.

His eyes are opalescent. It's almost as if every time you look at them they were a different shade of blue.

You're sure your gazes hadn't connected for more than 3 seconds but the feeling that spawns inside of you from that short contact is slightly jarring. You don't necessarily comprehend what is stirring in your gut and you don't have time to because Larry's speaking breaks through your reverie.

He begins to talk about the chaos the first day of school would be. You quickly forget what had happened before.

But nothing had happened. It was nothing.

When you'd arrived at school after a little bit of walking, you, Larry, and Sal received your schedules together.

"Fuck me," you murmur, mostly to yourself, as you look down at your paper. "Math is first. This always happens to me."

Larry laughs loudly. "Yeah. That does suck. Mrs. Packerton looks like a walking corpse."

Sal jerks his head upward from his schedule. "That's fucked, Larry. She's an old lady."

"I don't care. Pretty sure she's secretly evil anyway."

Sal looks as though he's done reasoning with how harshly true Larry is most of the time. He shakes his head and looks back at you. "Well, if it's any consolation—I've also got math first. So, you know. We could go together," he pauses. "If you want."

You grin. "Yeah. Sure. At least I'll know someone there."

Larry flicks his eyes between the both of you before stopping them on Sal. "Hopefully you won't have Travis again," His eyebrows twitch. "He always has math first."

"Travis?" You echo curiously.

The two boys exchange a glance.

"Just a guy we know who-" Sal starts, hurrying to finish the sentence.

He was rushing so Larry wouldn't cut in and say something but it happened before he even had a chance. "He's a little fucker we know who gives Sal shit. 24/7. He makes my blood boil."

You furrow your eyebrows. "What- why? What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing," Sal replies. "Pretty sure he's really troubled. Not unlike the rest of us."

"Doesn't mean he should take it out on other people." Larry scoffs. "I know it bothers you, dude."

Sal doesn't reply—seems as though he's growing uncomfortable speaking about all of it.

"Hey, guys!"

A voice calls, having grown closer halfway through her sentence. You all turn towards it. A girl, leggy and taller than both you and Sal, with long locks and eyes greener than a spring clover. There was something homey in the way her chocolate brown hair brought warmth to her features.

A boy is beside her, with ginger hair with eyes a deep shade of the richest earth. His skin is pale and freckled. He carries himself with an air of bluntness and just a little bit awkwardly—his facial expression is very blank, you note.

"Hey, Ash. Shocked you aren't late," Larry grins.

"Ash" rolls her eyes at him and mirrors his expression. "You know Todd would never let that happen."

"No, I wouldn't." Todd deadpans.

Ash turns toward you after laughing enough to flash the white gleam of her teeth and a slight dimple in her cheek. "Hey!" She then says your name prettily and juts out her hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ashley."

You don't ask her how she knows your name. Instead, you sincerely smile, take her hand and shake it. "Nice to meet you," you return, and then turn toward Todd. "You, too."

Todd is already an interesting character. He doesn't smile but his expression is cordial. "Welcome to Nockfell."

Your smile widens.

"Have you guys gotten your schedules yet?" Sal speaks up after having been quiet for a moment. He must've been reading over his schedule to himself.

"Oh! Yeah," Ashley opened her other hand, the one she hadn't shaken your hand with, and unfolded a now very crumpled piece of paper. She passed summer green over the list. "I've got biology."

Todd didn't even look at his list. "I have history."

Sal looks at you. His gaze easily levels with yours. "Looks like it's just me and you then."

Your face feels hot. "Haha," you suddenly feel nervous. "You're right. Sit beside me, okay?"

His eyebrows jump—that much you can tell by the way his eyes move. Tucking a strand of loose blue hair behind his ear, he replies: "Will do."

His ears are double pierced.

The bell's shrill ringing floods the halls. You wince, and you and Sal's eye contact is broken. Before that happens, though, you see Larry grinning to himself.

Weirdo, you think lightheartedly.

Everyone parts after that. Larry and Ash walk away together. They must both have biology, you thought. Todd leaves by himself to his respective class and you and Sal head towards math.

For a moment, the silence is unbearable. You've never been alone with a boy. Well, you weren't alone, just not in a group with other people. The noiselessness begins to bother you so you fleetingly think of something to say and blurt the first thing that comes to mind.

"The piercings," you say suddenly.

He turns his head toward you. You look up to him before looking straight. "What?"

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, you thought. All I do is make a mockery of myself.

"I like them!" you add, hurriedly. "They're pierced twice. That's really cool. Looks good on you."

He laughs shyly. "Thanks. I like your shoes."

"My shoes?" You look down and laugh. They were so worn. "Why?" You continue to giggle. "They're falling apart at the seams, haha."

"That's the best kind of shoe," he retorts. He jerks his chin towards his sneakers, a muted shade of cornflower blue. "Look at mine. They barely fit and they're- like, super constricting. Also super ratty—but I can't seem to get rid of them."

You laugh with him. "They look better than mine, at least."

You're glad the ice was broken so fast. You liked him.

The class was boring and uninteresting as any math class would be. You do work. You glance over at Sal a few times throughout the class—not to cheat, just to see how he was fairing—and he was writing answers down with a quick response time and humble confidence within the drawl of his handwriting.

Alright, so he was smart. Not much of a surprise there. You could tell just how perceptive of a boy he was.

You stared hopelessly at an answer on your sheet you'd yet to fill out and twirled the pencil around in your fingers.

Suddenly, a pale hand with black nails has nimbly reached over and hastily circled what you assume was the correct answer to the question with his pencil. You look up to Sal in surprise and appreciation, who's already back in his seat as if nothing had happened.

You giggle before you can stop yourself when he raises a hand and raises a finger in front of the prosthetic's mouth, to tell you "shh."

Mrs. Packerton slowly pivots away from the chalkboard and passes her eyes over the class. You and Sal quickly break eye contact and look down on your papers. Sal's shoulders shake in your peripheral vision and you press your knuckles to your lips and force a bored expression on your paper.

Before the bell rang, you noticed a blond boy with tan skin and caramel eyes in front of you and Sal, occasionally shooting your friend bitter looks. It left a sour taste in your mouth, but you didn't mention it.

You find Ash and Larry before your next class. You think you've burst a blood vessel from how hard you'd laughed when you left the classroom.

"I thought I'd cracked a rib," Sal states over your laughter. as you walked up to Larry and Ashley.

Larry and Ashley exchange a look. Larry is the first to state the obvious. "What the hell happened to you two?"

You and Sal look toward each other and make eye contact. That's the last straw. You cover your mouth and try and hold it in.

"I-" Sal inhales. "It doesn't matter," he breathes out, an amused lilt in his tone. "How was class?"

"Bad," Larry and Ashley reply, in synchronization.

"Really?" You ask, surprised. "Biology can be fun."

"This biology isn't," Ashley sighs. "Not when you're just staring at cells and organisms for 20 minutes and then being expected to do work on it and understand what's happening."

"Well, math wasn't any better," you reply. "If it's any consolation—I don't think I got any answers right except for the one Sal did for me."

"I thought math was fine," Sal chimes in.

"That's because you're fucking Albert Einstein reincarnate," Larry squints. "Please have mercy on our mortal souls, Math God."

"Oh my god," Sal looks down. "Please don't make this into another nickname."

"I like it!" Ashley grins.

You know they're teasing but you can't find it in you to join in after he helped you out in class. Instead, you resign into silence and watch as countless students filter through the halls, bumping into each other as they pass and chatting with their peers.

Through the crowd, at the far end of the hall, you see him. The blond boy who'd been eying Sal in class. He was looking at him in the same way he had been then, with threat and resent shadowing his polished amber eyes.

It looks as if he's readying himself to approach.

You glance toward Larry, Sal, and Ashley. They seem occupied well enough, so you slip into the crowd and head towards who you've now pieced together to be: "Travis," you state, as you stand in front of him. "That's you, right?"

He regards you with distaste. "Do I know you?"

You suck your teeth. "No," you tell him your name. "I came to ask you something."

Despite himself and his embitterment, his eyes shine with hesitant curiosity. You take that as your answer. In spite of his stance over you and his general advantage of being bigger, you hold his gaze with blunt intent.

"What were you planning on doing when you walked over?"

"Why do you fucking care what I do?"

You shrug. "I don't know, Travis. I just think you need to learn how to pick your battles."

"Pick my fucking battles.. you know what? I think I will go over there-"

As he takes a step forward, you raise your hand and your palm roughly hits his chest, stopping him in his tracks—not because of strength (he's at an advantage, and he could easily walk right through) but because of the views he had, or rather—the views pushed upon him.

You saw the golden cross swinging off of his neck as soon as you approached. You'd also seen the gnarly black eye he wore on his face.

It was safe to assume he was being beaten at home and by a parent. And, most of the time.. when an adult is religious they will use several methods to further push it upon their child. Like sinner's guilt. And abuse.

If Travis' extremely religious guardian were to ever find out he'd harmed a girl, especially under the eyes of many others—it wouldn't turn out very well for him.

Yes, maybe you were being manipulative. But you were being manipulative for the good of both Sal and Travis.

"Step down," you advised. "This won't go very well."

You steadily meet his eyes. The stare between the two of you lasts for an even amount of time. Finally, he breaks that contact, jerks away with you, huffs, and walks his way around you and down the hall.

After that, you returned with the excuse of exchanging books from your locker, after Larry had asked you where you had wandered off to. No one seemed to have noticed Travis standing ominously at the end of the hall or your altercation with him.

At the end of school, you were beat. You said goodbye to both Ashley and Todd. Afterward, you, Larry, and Sal head for Addison's Apartments.

"You know, we don't have to go home yet," you say.

The boys turn to you curiously, as you kick a pebble as you walk along the side of the road. The beginnings of the sunset blossom in the sky—orange and fruity like tangerine jelly and amaranth pink like homemade strawberry frosting. like home. It fills you up inside and makes you feel so sweet.

"You guys wanna see a movie?"

Larry grins. "We don't have money."

"Who says we need money?"

When you'd arrived at the movie theater, all three of you had circled to the side exit. After a few moments of waiting suspiciously, an older couple exited through the doors. Larry caught the handle before it closed, and you brushed past them and quickly entered the theater. Before the doors closed, you heard them mumbling about "pesky children," or something.

Once you'd gotten in, you scanned each screening room and what movie the doors said it was playing.

You and Sal decided on a scary movie. Larry was not amused. Whatsoever. Apparently, horror is not his thing.

Before you entered, you frowned.

"We have no popcorn.."

In moments, Larry was reaching into a nearby trash can and pulling out an empty bucket that improbably had popcorn inside of it at some point in time. He then walked away, holding this empty popcorn bucket. It was so bizarre and you would have laughed had not been extremely confused.

"What.." Sal murmured, looking to you. "You think he'll come back?"

"I don't know where he would even be coming back from," You admitted.

It wasn't very long until he'd returned, with the empty bucket he'd taken from the trash now full of popcorn.

"Mandatory free refills," He said to your baffled face, pointing toward the poster on the wall above the trash can which read exactly what he'd just said. "You can never forget the hustle, kids."

"Oh my god," Sal mumbled and you barely heard him beneath Larry's laughter.

The movie was horribly made, and it still somehow scared the shit out of Larry. It may as well have been a comedy with how hard you'd laughed. Multiple other people in the theater had told you to shut Larry up but that was impossible when he was screaming every time a shadow would come on screen or the scene would change.

You, being between Larry and Sal, originally thought you'd had the best seat. You were wrong. Not only was Larry cowering into you and screaming directly in your ear, but Sal had simultaneously begun to throw popcorn at Larry's face to shut him up. That only resulted in popcorn. All over.

Needless to say, you left before the movie ended because of the fear of being escorted out by the employees.

"I'm never seeing a movie with you again," Sal squinted towards Larry. The three of you were now on the way back to the apartments. The night was thick and pearly moonlight bounced off old the white of his prosthetic face. "I think my eardrums are bleeding."

"It's the horror movies! This isn't my fault. Both of you ganged up on me and chose it."

You giggled to yourself.

Sal, beside you, suddenly stopped. "Wait, Y/N."

You stopped, and Larry halted a few feet away, as he'd been walking a bit ahead. Sal leaned forward and reached toward your face. Your body felt as though it had been zapped and you stood still.

He reached into your hair and pulled out a piece of popcorn.

"Huh." You said, dumbly. "How'd that get there?"

Larry's approaching footsteps were fast and leggy. He reached into Sal's hand, plucked the piece of popcorn between his fingers and fucking ate it.

"Jesus Christ, I can't do this anymore," Sal shook his head.

"What? It looked okay."

Recovering quickly from whatever had happened to you, you laughed.

You also inwardly denied what your body was feeling because you knew it was much too soon.

[winterscaptain]

fathers.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it turns out the words really do fly out of you when you write in comic sans. who knew? anyways, here’s a little sunday morning angst for you. starts sweet, ends sweet. takes place au!may 2016.

words: 1.8k warnings: discussion of abuse and alcoholism (nothing too graphic)

summary: “‘why do men like me want sons?’ he wondered. ‘it must be because they hope in their poor beaten souls that these new men, who are their blood, will do the things they were not strong enough nor wise enough nor brave enough to do. it is rather like another chance at life; like a new bag of coins at a table of luck after your fortune is gone.’” – john steinbeck

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

Aaron walks in from a very long day at the office to find you and Sean crashed out on the couch. Isaac’s asleep, too, sprawled out on his back in his Pack ‘n Play. He can hear Jack shuffling around in his room, probably on the tablet or working on homework. 

Sean has the remote loosely gripped in his hand, hanging off the edge of the couch. His head is in your lap, one of your hands in his hair, and your body curled around his shoulders. You look more like a pair of siblings or long-lost childhood friends than anyone Aaron’s ever seen - certainly more so than he would in the same situation. 

He almost envies the familiarity you and Sean have between you. Your friendship is easy and automatic - always has been.

How can two people, seemingly so similar, feel so starkly different about him? 

Aaron’s not quite sure how long he’s been standing there watching as you two sleep like a pair of house cats. Eventually, you stir with a furrowed brow, squinting into the late afternoon sunshine. 

When you find Aaron’s eyes, you smile widely and wink at him. After some delicate maneuvering in which you replace your thighs with a couch cushion and your arm with a throw blanket, you’re free of Sean’s weight and you can finally tuck into your husband. 

He kisses your head and wraps his arms around you. “How was your day?” 

“Good.” You burrow further into his chest. “Sean and I talked.” 

Aaron dips his head. “Oh?” 

“Mhmm.” You pat his chest twice and kiss his cheek. “Later.” 

+++

“Sean talked to me about your dad today.” 

Aaron freezes where he sits at the edge of the bed. You don’t mean to ambush him, but there’d never be a good time, so out with it was your best option. 

He shudders as if a chill ran through him, but the room was warm and free of drafts. Sean warned you that this might be the reaction. Even then, he only told you about his experience with the patriarch of the Hotchner household. When you’d asked about Aaron, he only paled and shook his head. 

“Ask him about it, but I won’t… I can’t do that to him,” he’d said. 

So you have. And now you wait. 

Aaron’s voice is a croak when he speaks. “What -” He clears his throat. “What did he say?”

You turn toward him, tucking your legs close to you and pulling the duvet up. “He told me a little about what it was like for him growing up.” 

“Just him?”

“Just him. He wouldn’t say anything about your relationship with your father, nor about your childhood. I didn’t push.”

You pause for a moment. He’s still frozen, but his breath picks up. Not for the first time, you notice the silver lines - scars - across his back. 

Long-healed and decades-old. 

“I realized in that moment that it’s one of the few things I don’t know about you. I knew, even when I first met you, never to ask and you never told. You’ve alluded to things over the years on cases, and I’ve seen the unique kind of loathing you have for unsubs who hurt their children.” Your voice is low, Isaac sleeping in his crib beside the bed, almost old enough to sleep in the nursery.

You hear Aaron’s breath catch and you lean forward, putting your hand beside his hip so he knows you’re there. 

“I’ve known not to ask for so long that I never did.”

A huff leaves him. “You’re not going to like it.” 

“I don’t expect to,” you reply simply. 

Aaron’s hand wanders back to find your own and he grasps your fingers like a lifeline. Eventually, he turns, sitting in the middle of the bed like a child, his legs crisscrossed with his feet nearly underneath him. 

He stares at the bedspread as he tells you about his father. A charming, handsome lawyer with a wicked vodka habit. That particular wicked habit fed into his other one - a liberal use of his belt as a tool of discipline. 

Aaron tells you about the day he was old enough to step between his parents, to take whatever his father had to throw - sometimes literally - on behalf of his mother. Evelyn did her best, kept the house together and her boys as safe as she could. It didn’t always work. 

She’d thought, Aaron shared with you, that a second child would soothe whatever hurt tortured her husband.

Aaron never resented her. Especially after starting his work as a lawyer and later as an agent, he understands how difficult - really, impossible - it is to leave those situations when you have children.  

As his parents struggled to conceive, his father grew worse. By the time Evelyn had Sean, Aaron was thankfully old enough to wrangle his father into a cold shower and into bed most nights before he could get violent. He was thirteen. 

“It was almost a relief - it was a relief - when his body finally failed him. I was barely in college when he died, and I graduated early. Sean was still little, so I don’t know what he remembers.” 

Aaron sits for a moment, thinking. “If I could hazard a guess, I’d say it was the shouting.” He shakes his head. “We were always shouting.”   

You’re both in tears now, but your crying is silent and his tears hardly disrupt his breath. 

“Almost everyone at his funeral was someone he worked with. They, of course, loved him. His functional alcoholism served to make him affable enough to make and keep friends at the law firm. They had no idea what happened after he came home.” 

 He takes another breath. “I did my best to protect Sean after our father died, to keep him safe. I know he resented me for it - might still resent me for it - but he’s alive. And so is my mom.” 

You can’t imagine what Evelyn’s been through, the peace she’s probably had in the decades she’s spent widowed. How the Hotchner line managed to survive - managed to become as kind and genuine and loving as they are - is close to a miracle. 

You tell him as much. 

He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, looking very much like the lost boy who took on too much, too fast, too early. “I don’t know how.” 

“Because,’ you say, leaning forward and crawling into his lap and wrapping around him like a koala. “You are a better man, Aaron. You won.” 

His breath is unsteady as he clasps his arms around you, his hands locked around his opposite forearms. 

“You’re a great brother, a fantastic husband, an exceptional father.” You lean back so you can frame his face in your hands. “You wanna know something?”

He just stares at you. 

“I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard you raise your voice at a member of our team or your family.” Your thumbs brush over his cheekbones as his eyes flutter shut. “You are a strong and gentle leader who relies on integrity rather than force to win respect.” 

You kiss his cheek and hook your chin over his shoulder, holding him as close as you can. “We’re never afraid of you. Your sons can’t wait for you to come home. They’re thrilled when they hear your keys in the door.” 

He sniffles. “I’m afraid...”

Leaning back again, you grip his jaw with a kind of gentle ferocity, forcing his gaze. “Aaron. Look me in the eye and tell me what your sons could do to push you to beat them, to physically discipline them. What would they have to do?” 

He meets your eyes, shifty and shadowed like a wild animal, and stares at you without speaking. After a moment, the wildness fades and his lower lip wobbles as he exhales. 

That’s enough of an answer for you. 

“Can’t find anything, can you?” 

Aaron shakes his head. He’s barely audible. 

“No.” 

“No,” you echo, your voice gentle and soft. Bringing his head back to your shoulder, you hold onto him, running your hands over his shoulders to soothe some of his shaking. 

Isaac snuffles and stirs, drawing your attention. Aaron looks up too, his eyes searching for his son. 

“Lemme get him,” he says. You untangle yourself and shuffle to the edge of the bed, looking over the edge of the crib. Knowing Isaac, he probably just wants snuggles. He’s the snuggliest baby you’ve ever known. 

His father’s son, certainly. 

Aaron rounds the crib and leans down, bringing Isaac to his chest. “Hey, little man. You alright?”

Isaac makes a little creaky baby noise and grabs Aaron’s shirt in a death grip. 

There are still tears streaked down Aaron’s cheeks and his breath is still a little unsteady, but he’s relaxed as he gently rocks Isaac around the room, shifting his weight from side to side. In his father's arms, Isaac falls right to sleep.

+++

Aaron’s night is fitful, but after you curl up at his side he manages to close his eyes and rest. 

You’re up before him in the morning - a rarity - finding Isaac awake and holding onto his own feet in the crib, staring up at the ceiling. 

My boy. Always happy to entertain himself. 

You pick him up and carry him out of the room, closing the door softly behind you. At this point, you’ve perfected the one-armed carry thanks to Aaron, and it usually comes in handy. 

Jack and Sean are already awake, making cereal so quietly the bowls probably deserve their own top-secret clearance. 

“Good morning, boys,” you say with a smile. 

“Morning, Mom,” they drone, in tandem, before dissolving into a fit of giggles. 

With a laugh, you find your own bowl and Sean pours your cereal just the way you like it while you pull a bottle for Isaac. 

The four of you eat breakfast in relative peace. It’s nice to have Sean here with you for more than one reason, but for now, it’s because he’s holding Isaac’s bottle so you can eat with one hand. One hand, you've learned, is decidedly better than no hands at all.

Aaron rolls into the kitchen about ten minutes after you, looking rumpled and squinty in the morning sun. 

“Coffee’s on, honey.” 

He mumbles his thanks and you share a smile with Sean.

“He’s predictable,” you explain in a half-whisper. 

Sean nods, playing at something pensive. “And old.”  

“Heard that.”

You and Sean share a look and a smile. You look over your shoulder. "Heard what?"

+++

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[marauders-venting]

I Know Him

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: murder mystery fluff

warnings: several mentions of murder, child abuse, blood (stabbing and bullet wounds), hints at homophobia, hints at sex

words: 4447

a/n: this is a switching fandoms fic with harry potter characters in the sherlock holmes universe. In this fic remus is holmes and sirius is watson. I have kept certain aspects that i thought were important about remus and sirius’ personalities but i had to give them some of holmes and watson’s personality traits for the fic to make sense.

also just so you know I based this fic off the original sherlock holmes books only. I have never seen the tv shows or film adaptations but i’ve heard they are very different from the books.

It was a chilly Saturday afternoon and Remus and I were sitting together in an armchair by the window. He was reading a book but I simply stared absent-mindedly. At Remus, at the street outside, at the dust in our apartment catching the light. But mostly at Remus. Suddenly, I caught sight of a flurry of movement outside. A woman bundled up in scarves was running down the street looking flustered.

“Remus,” said I, as I watched the woman scan the numbers on the building and near our apartment, “if I am not very much mistaken, the very thing you have been craving for the past week is approaching right now.”

“A client, you say?” said Remus, laying down the paper. “About time!” His eyes lit up with excitement and I scrambled out of his lap just as a knock sounded on the door.

“Mr Lupin?” said Mrs Hudson, the landlady. “I have a Miss Anne Robinson here to see you.”

“Yes, yes let her in,” replied Remus impatiently. Within a few seconds, Mrs Hudson had returned, leading a friendly-looking, middle-aged woman into the living room. Miss Robinson had a cheerful face with wrinkles next to her eyes that come from smiling and yet she looked sullen and tired, as do many of the people who visit our rooms at 221B Baker Street to seek professional help from Remus.

“Pray take a seat, Miss Robinson and tell me your story,” said Remus eagerly. “I have had no other cases to occupy me for the past week and would be glad for a problem of any kind. You are a cook, I presume?” The woman looked startled.

“Why, yes, Mr Lupin,” she said. “I work as a cook for the Wright family. But how could you have known that?”

“It is of no importance, I assure you. I simply noticed the soup stain on your dress,” said Remus. I could hear the slight note of impatience in his voice. However, I doubt anyone but I could have noticed it.

“How very clever of you,” said Miss Robinson, smiling at him. Remus brushed the compliment aside with a gesture of his hand.

“Now what is the case that you have brought for me today?” he asked.

“Well, Mr Lupin,” began the woman, “just three days ago, tragedy struck the Wright family. I spoke to Dr Wright and he agreed that it would be best to bring the case to you. I should probably begin by explaining to you the history of the household. Mr and Mrs Wright were very fitting for one another; they loved each other very much. When they decided to have children, Dr Wright hoped against hope that the child would be a boy. He desperately wanted someone to carry on the family name and honour. Poor Mrs Wright died in childbirth and Dr Wright heavily mourned her loss. To add to the trouble, little Mary Wright was not the boy her father had hoped for. Regardless, he learned to love his daughter and cared for her always; I would even venture to say he spoiled her a bit too much, although she turned out to be a lovely, modest young lady. And the spitting image of her dear mother she was too! Never saw a girl resemble her mother more than Mary resembled Mrs Wright.”

Miss Robinson smiled serenely at the thought of the mother and daughter together but then, her mouth turned down at the corners and her eyes became watery. She blinked several times and shivered slightly before continuing with her narrative.

“Anyway,” she continued, her voice shaky and unstable, “this is where I come to the crime. Just three days ago, at 9:30 on Wednesday night, Mary and her fiance, Charles, were found dead in Mary’s bedroom. He was stabbed right in the heart and she was shot in the head. The police have their suspect and I must say that the evidence against him is quite startling, that is to say, it seems like a finished case. But I thought I had better come to you sir, for I have the strangest feeling that the police have got it all wrong and I always trust my instincts, Mr Lupin.”

“Who is this suspect and what evidence do the police have against him?” asked Remus.

“His name is Joseph Williams, sir. He is a servant of the Wrights. He was found bending over the body of Charles after a gunshot was heard. When the other servants arrived, myself included, and called out his name, a triumphant smile rested on his face, his eyes ablaze, alive.” Miss Robinson shuddered. “The mere thought of his face chills me to my very core. I don’t know why I believe him to be innocent, sir, he seems perfectly capable of committing so horrible a crime. He has confessed to the police to have loved Mary ever since he first laid eyes on her. This would, of course, explain why he would have killed her fiance. The police think that he killed Mary because he was angry with her for not requiting his love but he denies all claims. He says he would never have touched a hair on her head. And as for Charles, he says he would have very much liked to kill him but that he did not do anything of the kind.”

“Were the weapons for the crime found?” asked Remus.

“The gun was in plain sight, thrown on the floor right beside the two. But the knife has not been located.”

“And I suppose the crime scene has not been preserved if the crime happened three days ago?”

“No sir. They moved the bodies on Friday morning.”

“Very well,” said Remus, straightening up. “Then I shall like to interview the other servants and Dr Wright if possible.”

“I shall speak to him, Mr Lupin. Perhaps you could come around to the house tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, I think I shall,” replied Remus. “Alright then, I just have one question before you leave, Miss Robinson. What hotel was Dr Wright staying at that night and why was he out of town?”

“How the deuce did you know he was out of town?” asked Miss Robinson, her brows raised and her eyes wide.

“It was quite simple, really. You never mentioned anything about how he ran into the room and cried out at the sight of the couple’s dead body or anything about how he slept so heavily that he didn’t hear the shot. I have heard many recounts of murder and this detail is included every time without fail. And yet you left it out of your narrative. Therefore, he must have been out of town at the time.”

“Oh,” Miss Robinson chuckled, “you gave a fright there for a moment Mr Lupin. Dr Wright was staying at L'Hôtel D'Affaires as he had an early conference meeting the next day.”

“Very well,” said Remus, “We shall see you tomorrow morning, Miss Robinson. Good day.” And with that, she bustled off back into the now significantly more crowded street.

The following day Remus and I ventured out to the Wright house to investigate. Remus questioned the two other servants but the interviews were brief and nothing new was discovered.

“Now we shall question Dr Wright and then I might head to the station to hear Mr Williams’ account,” said Remus.

One might think that it ails me to watch Remus question so many people and not understand what he understands. However, I must admit that it is one of my greatest pleasures to watch Remus work through a case. He is the master of deduction but there are a few telling signs that allow for me to draw my own conclusions. I know that he is excited despite his efforts to conceal it. Perhaps he fools the rest of the world but not me. I have the expressions of his face memorised. The furrow of his brows when he collects his evidence, the twinkle in his eyes when the pieces fall into place in his brilliant mind, the bite of his lip when he’s concentrating (sometimes I wish I were the one biting his lip in his place), the curl of his lip when, once again, he manages to outwit everybody else in the room. I believe Remus is the only man I have ever met who can be both modest and proud at once. And I love him for it.

“I was devastated when I got the news Mr Lupin,” said Dr Wright, once we were all sat down in the living room. “Naturally, of course. My beloved wife has passed and now my daughter and son-in-law too. This was the order of events as I had it. I left that evening at 6:15 and checked into L'Hôtel D'Affaires at 7:30. I had an important conference meeting early the next morning, you see, and I abhor rising early. The next day, I was summoned by the police and told that Williams had been arrested for the murder of Mary and Charles. I never knew Williams had feelings for my daughter but I think that his actions were certainly a poor expression of love.” Dr Wright’s face tensed with anger and despair. He looked truly broken and empty, as though he were lost and unsure about what he could do now that everything he had loved so dearly was gone.

“With your permission, sir, I will ask you a few questions now,” said Remus. “Were the couple happy together?”

“Oh yes. My Mary loved Charles truly; I believe she would have done anything for him.”

“And how did you feel about the match?”

“I too was satisfied. I thought that the boy was a wonderful young man and that he would take good care of my girl. I looked forward to their marriage.”

“What was the boy’s family like?”

“Oh, they lived quite comfortably and were very kind people. I thought Mary would be happy to be welcomed to such a family.”

“Well sir, I am truly sorry for your loss; I think we shall quit your company for I think I know everything that can be of use to me.”

---------

“Now to the police station then?” I asked once Remus and I left the house.

“No,” said Remus, still deep in thought, “no, I think our time would be better spent at the town gossip house.”

“Two beers, please,” said Remus as we walked into the nearest pub and placed three two-pence coins on the bar. When the bartender handed us our drinks, Remus turned to me and said, “Did you hear about what happened up at the Wright house?” I was familiar with Remus’ tactics by now and knew that he was, in fact, not speaking to me at all but merely hoping to be overheard by one of the locals at the bar.

“Know ‘bout that now do you?” the bartender interrupted before I would have had a chance to reply. He turned to face us once more.

“Yes, I read about it in the paper,” said Remus casually. I have said it before but he is an incredible actor. He fools them all. All but me. I grow warm at the thought and a smile begins to spread across my face but I suppress it. Smiling now would seem odd at the very least, suspicious as most. “They arrested the man, didn’t they? The servant they suspected?”

“Sure did,” replied the bartender. “And I reckon ‘e’s the one ‘oo dun it, too. D’you think ‘e’s the one ‘oo caused all them yellin’s up in the Haunted Shack?”

“Excuse me?” said Remus in evident surprise.

“You ain’t from around ‘ere, mister, are you?”

“No, I can’t say that I am.”

“Well, there’s a shack up there next to the Wright ‘ouse, a right nasty shack I’ll give you that. Now them Wrights is livin’ in a nice house, ain’t nothin’ too grand but it’s more than modest. Right by the Wright ‘ouse there’s an ol’ shack, abandoned I reckon. Dr Wright had fenced it off but ‘e never ‘ad it torn down. Now sometimes, in the dead of night, we villagers would ‘ear someone sobbin’ up in that place. Once we even ‘eard a scream. Ghosts, that’s what everyone’ll tell you, that the place is haunted. Rumor ‘as it that the reason that Dr Wright never tore down the bloody thing is because ‘e fears them ghosts. But I think different. I say whoever been makin’ those noises up in there, that’s your man, that’s the murderer. It ain’t makin’ much sense but it’s the bloody truth I’d be prepared to swear to it.”

Suddenly, Remus drained his drink in a gulp and said, “That’s an interesting idea, but we really must get going, Sirius, if we’re going to make the next train.”

Next, we visited L'Hôtel D'Affaires where Remus made some small inquiries while I admired the hotel’s lounge and thought over our discussion with the bartender. Why on earth would Williams, the servant, sob and scream in an old, mangled shack? I had no answer but I was sure that Remus did.

Finally, we returned to Baker Street for a spot of supper and bed. We ate without exchanging a word until Remus suddenly broke the silence.

“This case is wrong, all wrong!” he exclaimed in frustration. “But I haven’t enough evidence just yet to get the man convicted. But I shall find it, I shall.” And with that, he marched up to bed. I waited to follow him up. On nights like this, I give Remus space to mull over his thoughts about the case alone before going to bed. He has never asked me to but I know he wants the time to think.

“Hello,” said I, upon entering the room later that night. Remus seemed to have been lost in thought; upon my entrance, his head turned sharply towards me. “Would you like me to leave?” I asked hesitantly.

“No, of course not, darling,” he said, his expression softening, revealing the man I know behind the great detective. “As a matter of fact, perhaps I should let my mind become distracted by other matters and return to the case in the morning. I sometimes find it easier to approach the facts at a different angle when doing that.”

“I could think of a few ways to keep your mind distracted,” I said, grinning at him.

“Can you now?” he smirked.

---------

The next day, Remus decided to go back up to the Wright house and search Mary Wright’s room, the place where the crime was committed, for evidence of his new theory. He came back with a triumphant look on his face that indicated success. That night, after a small supper, Remus asked if I wished to accompany him.

“Where would we be going?” I asked curiously.

“To bring this case to justice,” he replied simply. “Bring your revolver,” he added; even though I had not yet consented to join him, he knew I could not refuse an offer such as the one before me. Not only because of my all-consuming love for him, but because of my curiosity as well.

When we arrived at the Wright house – which was, apparently, our destination – the door was opened by Dr Wright himself.

“Mr Lupin,” he said in surprise. Without waiting for a reply, Remus stepped over the threshold and into the house; I was on his heel as always.

“I must insist that you leave,” said Dr Wright in rage. “What is this hour at which you call upon me? Surely what you want can wait until tomorrow?”

“As a matter of fact, it cannot,” said Remus. His amber eyes bore straight into the brown ones of Dr Wright as though seeing right through him. “I don’t often carry out the commands of murderers.”

“I—what—h–how dare you—?” spluttered the doctor but he had turned significantly paler.

“Would you like to tell the story or shall I tell it for you?” said Remus.

“You know everything?” asked Dr Wright, sinking into a chair.

“I do.”

“Then I may as well come out and say that I had no intention for it to go this far. I suppose it began with my wife. I loved her dearly and I wanted a son terribly. When Mary was born and my wife passed away, I was in agony. I felt as though I had lost everything that I held dear. Mary was the spitting image of my late wife; she was a constant reminder of my lost love which was both excruciatingly painful and necessary for my survival. I hadn’t the heart to kill the girl but the pain drove me to near insanity sometimes and in those moments I would drag Mary into the shack on the outskirts of this property and whip her with my riding crop. I treated her terribly though nobody knew, not even the servants.”

My hands began to shake at that. Memories of my own childhood filled my head. The whipping, the beating, the screaming. I clenched my hands into fists to mask the shaking but Remus noticed. He noticed everything. His hand twitched towards mine but I met his eyes and shook my head ever so slightly. Not now. And certainly not here. Only one arrest would be made tonight and it wouldn’t be either of us.

I forced myself back into the present, feeling a surge of anger towards the man sitting before me but I did nothing more than continue to glare at him. All these years working alongside Remus had taught me to control my temper if only a little. This man would get what he deserved. Hitting him now wouldn’t solve anything. It would make me feel a whole lot better, though. The thought crossed my mind but Remus met my eye again. He knew what I was thinking. His eyes flashed, reminding me that acting now would be unwise and reckless.

Dr Wright must have noticed the disgust and fury with which Remus and I were glaring at him, for he added defensively, “I’m not proud of it; these were certainly my lowest moments save when I… well I’ll get to that later. Anyhow, the villagers heard Mary’s sobs and started the rumour that there were ghosts living in the old shack. I encouraged the rumours, or at least I didn’t discourage them.

“Then, all of a sudden, my little Mary was announcing that she was engaged, that she was to be taken away from me; my last living link to my wife. You must understand my position gentlemen.” Dr Wright’s eyes were wide; he looked like he was pleading with Remus and me to put ourselves in his position. “On Wednesday night, I left the house at 6:30 that evening, telling everyone that I was staying the night at a hotel as I had an early conference meeting the next morning. I wasn’t lying but I wasn’t telling the full truth either. I intended to go to Charles’ house and confront him, to tell him to call off the marriage and threaten him with everything within my power. I went to Mary’s room to bid her farewell and left for Charles’. I knocked on the door but there was no reply. The door was left unlocked so I entered. I called for the man but without success. Then I saw a letter lying on the table.

“‘Dearest Charles,’ it read, ‘Father is leaving town tonight for a conference. Perhaps you would like to stay at our house for the night? All my love, Mary.’ I was infuriated. I rushed back to the house but rather than entering through the door, I climbed into Mary’s room through the window and found Charles sitting at her desk, a mischievous smile dancing on his smug face. Anger surged through me and, without thinking, I grabbed the knife I had brought with me, for caution’s sake, and stabbed him in the heart. He gave a strangled sort of scream; it was not loud enough to wake the servants but it was loud enough to cause Mary considerable alarm.

‘Charles?’ she called from the hall. ‘Is everything alright?’ And that was when my world fell apart. Mary entered the room and I stood up so violently that I pulled the knife right out. So many emotions flooded me at once and it was too much for me to handle. I pulled out my gun and shot her. I stood frozen for what felt like eternities, watching my only child fall dead to the floor from a bullet I had shot. The servant’s yelps of concern from downstairs caused me to snap out of my reverie. When I realized what I had done, I dropped the gun, pocketed the knife and scrambled back out the window. I left for L'Hôtel D'Affaires and spent the night there. The rest of the story, you already know gentlemen.” Remus’ look of disgust had not yet faded off his face. My hands had not yet stopped shaking.

“I have alerted the authorities,” said Remus, “and they are waiting for us outside. You will accompany them back to the station and await your trial in jail. If you do not come peacefully, I will use force.” Dr Wright said nothing else but followed Remus and me outside where he was arrested by the county police.

---------

“I believe I owe you an explanation, Sirius,” says Remus once we were seated once more in the comfort of our armchairs in 221B Baker Street. “And an apology. I shouldn’t have suggested that you accompany me on this specific case. Not when the details of it could… resurface unwanted memories.” I shake my head.

“It’s quite alright,” I say.

“No, it’s not,” says Remus, taking my hand in his own. “I forced you to relive your worst memories without so much as a warning, all for my peace of mind. All because I wanted you by my side. It was horribly selfish of me.”

“I would have insisted on accompanying you anyway,” I say. “I want to be by your side, my love. Now, pray tell me about your thought process. How did you solve the case?” This, perhaps, is what I enjoy most about working on cases with Remus. The moment when the case has been solved, the victims avenged, the villains confronted and punished appropriately, and only Remus and I remain, in the living room of our flat, our limbs tangled together as I watch the excitement and passion that radiates from Remus as he explains to me how his extraordinary mind saw what only he could.

“Firstly,” he begins, and already I can hear the shift in his voice. He loves his work. And he shares it with me. It is one of the things I love most about him. (I do say that quite a lot. Perhaps it is simply because I love everything about him.) “I will admit that I entered the case thinking that Williams was very likely the culprit. I consented to conduct the investigation in the case that my client’s instincts proved to be correct but I was almost entirely convinced that the investigation would be worthless. My suspicion first fell upon Dr Wright when I was interrogating him. I asked him what he thought of the match between his daughter and Charles; he said he was looking forward to their marriage. I found this most abnormal as nearly all fathers feel some sadness when their daughters leave their houses for that of another man especially when their wives have passed on. Why should this man be glad to lose his daughter? My immediate response was that he wasn’t, he was merely pretending to avoid suspicion. This, however, was hardly evidence, it was nothing more than a gut feeling.

“So we went to the town pub and learnt about the shack. I followed this by visiting L'Hôtel D'Affaires and inquiring as to the hour at which Dr Wright checked in. As you may recall, he told us that he had checked in at 7:30, an hour after his departure. But at L'Hôtel D'Affaires I was informed that Dr Wright only checked in at 10:30 on Wednesday night. By this point, my theory was formed and I was certain of its accuracy but I still needed proof. Therefore, the following morning I went to the scene of the crime and, after some rummaging about, found Mary Wright’s diary which included Charles’ reply to her letter that invited him over on that fateful night. The diary told me everything I needed to know. Then you and I went to confront Dr Wright, he was rightfully arrested and here we are now.” Remus concludes his explanation with a grim smile.

“Wonderful!” I say, applauding him for his achievement. Remus shrugs but I can see that he is attempting to hide a smile. If I could only shower him with compliments for the rest of my days to see his beautiful smile, I would do so. “You know, detective, one might find it very attractive when you make all these deductions,” I add.

“Oh?” he says, eyebrows raised. “And would this ‘one’ be you, by any chance?”

“Is that another deduction?” I tease.

“That wasn’t something I needed to deduce, love, it’s written all over your gorgeous face,” he says. Then I kiss him slowly, bringing my hand into his hair when I feel his on my waist.

“I do love you, you know,” he says, his lips still lingering on mine, refusing to pull away. “I don’t say it as often as I should but I do. The world can continue to hate it but I will never cease to love you, Sirius.”

“I know,” I reply, allowing my hand to fall and gently brush his cheek. “I love you too.” Remus blushes and I can see the man I fell in love with. Where the rest of the world sees only his brilliant mind and his icy exterior, I see beyond. I see the goodness in his heart, the emotion in his voice, the passion in his eyes, softness of his lips. I see it all and more. He shows it to me and only to me. He lets me have him. And I give him all there is of me in return. It is of this that I think when I lean in to kiss Remus again. And it is of this that I think when he kisses me back.

[cali-holland]

Forever and Ever, Ch. 1: The Proposal

Tom Holland X Osterfield!Reader, Wedding Series

With the help of Harrison and Charlotte, Tom picks out the perfect ring for you, and now the time’s come for the perfect proposal.

Warnings: sexual themes, swearing, a lil bit of blood/violence and kind of an abusive ex? (it’s a flashback though)

Word Count: 4100

Series Masterlist

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

“We keep this love in a photograph

We made these memories for ourselves

Where our eyes are never closing

Hearts are never broken

And time's forever frozen still

So you can keep me inside the pocket of your ripped jeans

Holding me closer 'til our eyes meet

You won't ever be alone, wait for me to come home”

Photograph, Ed Sheeran

~~~

“How’s the online shopping coming?” Harrison asked, strolling into the living room when he knew you were away at work the next day. Tom let out a frustrated groan, throwing his head back on the couch.

“There’s too many choices! I don’t understand how there can be so many shapes.” Tom stated and Harrison sat beside him to look at the engagement ring website on Tom’s laptop.

“I believe they’re called cuts.” He laughed, looking over the categories and images. “God, you’re right. How are there so many options?”

“This makes no sense.” He sighed, “How do I know which one Y/N would like the most?”

“Might sound cheesy, but I think she’d say yes even if you gave her the shittiest ring.”

“Well, that’s helpful.” Tom rolled his eyes at his friend.

“Why not go in person tomorrow? Y/N will be at work anyway.” Harrison suggested, standing from the couch.

“I don’t really want paparazzi to find out, but I guess I have no choice.” He paused, “Do you think you could come with me?”

Harrison laughed, turning back to his friend. “You’re talking to the wrong sibling. I’ll call Charlotte and see if she can go with you.”

By the time you got home from work, Tom had cleared out his search history to make sure there was no evidence of his ring shopping. You had no clue anything was up, even when you saw that your younger sister texted him while you two got ready for bed that evening.

Spotting his phone light up on the bedside table just as you were about to get into bed, you asked, “Why did Charlotte text you?”

“Probably just asking if I’m back home. I think Harrison said something about your mum inviting me over for dinner this week.” He lied with a shrug as he climbed into bed on the opposite side. While his room (which was actually your room as well) was big, it still only had one night stand on your side of the bed. Any other night, Tom wouldn’t care about it, trusting you completely with his phone, but now he was worried you’d get curious and check Charlotte’s texts. It wasn’t that strange for Charlotte to text him when he got back into town, but he got lucky by remembering Harrison’s mention of family dinner plans, something he’s gotten accustomed to at the Osterfield household.

“Oh yeah, she did tell me that. Friday, right? I just assumed you’d be free.” You laughed, making yourself comfortable under the covers by snuggling into Tom’s warm embrace. “If you don’t want to-“

“No, of course I’d love to. Your family’s my family.” He reached up and knocked on the wall behind him, just for Harrison, whose bed was on the other side of the wall, to hit the wall back. “See?”

Through your fit of laughter, you managed to say, “God, he’s going to think we’re going at it.”

“Hm, well, why don’t we?” Tom winked at you, his trailing down your waist.

“As much as I missed you, I’ll pass. One of us actually went to work today.” You teased, nuzzling your face into his neck and pressing a chaste kiss to his sweet spot. “Besides, I’m still sore from last night.”

“That good, huh?” He smirked and you leaned up to kiss him.

“Watch it, Holland.” You joked, and he couldn’t help but think that one day you’d have that last name too. Tom pulled you closer to him, intertwining your left hand with his, as you laid down with your head on his chest. As you drifted off to sleep, he mindlessly traced over your ring finger, mind racing with what the perfect ring would look like right in that very spot.

The next day, you went away to work as usual, and Tom put on his most incognito outfit- dark hoodie, dark jeans, sunglasses (though it wasn’t actually too bright out), dark baseball cap. He was completely unrecognizable for the paparazzi.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Harrison asked as he and Tom got in the car because, while Harrison still felt that Charlotte was the better sibling to ask for help, he wanted to go as moral support for his best friend. You know, best man duties and all that. In his casual white t-shirt and jeans, he looked the exact opposite of Tom.

“I’m not having anyone recognize. Not today.” Tom insisted.

“Whatever you say.” He laughed.

The two of them met Charlotte at the ring shop, after they parked a little ways away (because Tom didn’t want his car to be parked right in front of the store- that’s too “obvious”, according to him). Charlotte, just as Harrison had, commented on his rather dull outfit, but yet again, he always wore black in some form. Despite their fashion remarks, Tom was glad to have your siblings with him, or rather his future in-laws, you just didn’t know that yet.

“What about this one?” Charlotte asked, pointing to yet another ring. She’d shown Tom nearly a dozen rings that she thought you’d like, meanwhile Tom was overwhelmed by the choices. They lost Harrison to the men’s section shortly after walking inside because he wanted more.

“I don’t know. This is all so much.” Tom sighed, looking at the pretty engagement ring in the glass case. It was delicate and beautiful, but he still didn’t know. He had been told that the ring will “speak” to him, that he’ll just know when he sees it. He wished it was as easy as knowing you were the one for him; all it took was one glance at you and he knew he wanted to be with you forever. You were his forever.

After what must have been the twentieth “what do you think of this one?” from Charlotte (which he did deeply appreciate her help), Tom was ready to give up hope on this store. Maybe this store didn’t have the perfect ring. Shoving his hands in his hoodie’s pocket, he scanned over the rings again, the shiny silver beginning to blur together.

“Check this out.” Harrison called to them from across the store.

“Haz, mate, I don’t want to look at one of your rings.” Tom answered, running a hand over his face.

“No, you div. I like this ring for Y/N.” He replied, and both Tom and Charlotte immediately came over to him. Sitting in front of Harrison, in the back corner of the case, was the most perfect ring Tom had ever seen. He was speechless, and he knew it was the one.

“Can we see that one please?” Charlotte asked the worker, reading Tom’s slacked jaw expression as one of pure amazement. The worker pulled out the ring from behind the glass, and Harrison and Charlotte both exchanged a look of ‘that’s it’ while Tom examined it.

“Yes. That’s the one.” Tom nodded, and the two siblings let out their bated breaths in relief. As Tom and the worker settled out the measurements and price, Harrison waited with his sister by the door.

“And now he just needs to propose.” Charlotte laughed.

“I bet he’s going to faint before he even gets the words out. Y/N will just have to piece it together.” Harrison joked.

“Do you know how he’s doing it?” She asked.

“Oh yeah, she’s so going to cry.” Harrison watched the cashier slide the pink ring box over to Tom, finalizing the deal, and he felt a wave of pride overcome him. His two favorite people in the world were getting married; he wasn’t sure if he’d make it through this without shedding a few happy tears himself.

~~~

Tom let out a sigh, taking a step back to examine his bedroom. From the Christmas lights strung around the room to the bed sheet hanging on the wall across from the projector, everything was perfect. There were even a few rose petals scattered on the floor. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, his other hand slipping into his pocket to fish out the little pink box. Opening the box, his heart started to beat impossibly faster. It had only been two days since he bought it, but he felt like he could stare at it forever, and, well, if you said yes, then he’d gladly stare at it forever.

“Y/N,” He mumbled under his breath, beginning to pace a little. Another deep breath escaped his lips as he continued quietly rehearsing, “Y/N Osterfield, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

Tom had never jumped so high in his life, but he eased up immediately when he realized it was just Harrison in the doorway, arms crossed as he took in the new look to Tom’s room.

“So? How does it look?” Tom asked, closing the box and pocketing it once more. His hand remained in his pocket, thumbing over the object, like he was worried the box would vanish into thin air. He felt his hands start to shake a little at the unimpressed look on Harrison’s face.

“Like you’re going to be engaged by the end of the night.” He said encouragingly, unable to hide his happy smile any longer. “Now, come on, lover boy, she’ll be here any minute.”

“Do you think she’ll be able to tell? I want to surprise her.”

Harrison looked at the room again and then at his nervous friend, who was a little too nicely dressed for a casual movie night in; yet again maybe Harrison just wasn’t used to Tom wearing anything but sweats and a hoodie around the house. It seemed obvious, but maybe you would be too tired from a day at work to notice. Before he could reply, Harry shouted from downstairs.

“She’s here!”

Quickly, Tom and Harrison rushed out of the room, closing the door softly behind them. They went to the kitchen, where Harry and Tuwaine also stood, all four of them trying to act casual as they waited for you to come inside.

“Ed Sheeran? Are you sure?” Tuwaine asked, questioning Tom’s choice of music for the night.

“Yes. What’s wrong with Ed Sheeran?” Tom refuted.

“It’s a little unoriginal.” Harry added, and his brother narrowed his eyes at him.

“Unoriginal?”

“I brought dinner!” You announced, walking into the house. Tom sent his brother and friends a quick look of “don’t say anything” before he went to greet you at the door. His smile widened as he saw you, kicking off your shoes beside the shoe bin, balancing two bags of takeout.

“How was work?” Tom asked as he took the bags from you.

“Boring. Wish I could’ve been here with you.” You replied with a smile, your arms wrapping around his neck to bring him in for a kiss. His hands found your waist, the takeout bags hanging from his wrist, as you kissed him like you hadn’t seen him in weeks, not that he was complaining though because there was plenty of lost time to make up for.

Just as your tongue brushed over his lips, making him smile into the kiss, Harrison walked in the room, scoffing, “Get a room.”

“Don’t worry. We will.” You stated, not stepping out of Tom’s embrace as you looked at your brother. Harrison just rolled his eyes at you. You let go of Tom to make your way to the kitchen with both boys following behind you.

“Remember when you hated Tom?” Harrison teased, his normal playful smile on his face as he eyed you cuddled up to his best friend across the dinner table.

You rolled your eyes at his attempt at a joke, “Hate is an overstatement. Besides, I obviously got over that ruined dress a long time ago.”

“What happened to change that?” Tuwaine asked innocently. All eyes fell on you and Tom, and you remained uncharacteristically quiet, opting to drink some water instead of responding.

“Just time, I guess.” Tom shrugged, doing his best to save you from the topic.

While you did spend the first year of knowing Tom completely ignoring his attempts at being nice to you (which ranged from him offering to help you with groceries when you and Harrison still lived at home together to him greeting you when you walked in a room), your hostility seemed to change over night for the bystanders that were your siblings, his brothers, and your mutual friends.

It was sometime in the fall of 2014; Tom didn’t really remember the day exactly, or rather the night. He just remembered that he wasn’t in the mood to go clubbing with Harrison in some no-name London nightclub, but he went nonetheless. He soon lost his friend to some girl in the crowd, and Tom found himself perched on a barstool, nursing a beer. He checked his phone with a sigh; it’d been only half an hour since he walked through the door. He scanned the crowd in front of him, looking for any sign of Harrison, when his eyes caught sight of you.

Out on the dancefloor with a carefree smile on your face, you still managed to take his breath away. It had been over a year since the incident, and you hadn’t backed down from your grudge against him. Meanwhile, for Tom, he wanted to keep trying because, maybe one day, you’d tolerate him enough that he could actually talk to you. All he heard from your mutual friends (not Harrison because he’d never speak highly of you to another guy, especially one that he already knew was crushing on you, even if Tom refused to admit it) was that you were incredibly sweet and kind and funny and smart and basically everything Tom was looking for. Sighing again, he took another drink of his beer and returned to his previous task of seeking out Harrison.

When he still came up empty handed looking for his friend, Tom’s eyes managed to find their way back to you, but this time that same smile wasn’t on your face. No, you actually looked pissed off, an expression that Tom was very used to seeing. It was then that Tom spotted a seemingly very drunk Richard beside you, Richard from the party, Richard who had been your boyfriend for the past few months, Richard who Tom absolutely loathed. He hadn’t heard much about your relationship, except for the fact that Harrison thought Richard was a “conceited, manipulative asshole” who wasn’t good for you at all. Curiously, Tom watched you interact with him as you crossed your arms, saying something that made Richard roll his eyes at you and grab your elbow forcefully. As Richard dragged you out to a hallway of the club, Tom immediately shot up to follow you two.

“Let me go. I told you, Richard, we’re done.” You said, trying to get out of his painful grip.

“No, we’re done when I say we’re done.” He barked back. Tom took that as his cue to step in, standing a bit taller as he did so.

“Hey, leave her alone.” Tom interjected, and you looked at him, surprised by his appearance.

“Tom, what the hell are you doing here?” You asked. It was Tom’s turn to be surprised; you’d spoken to him, and you’d used his name- up until this moment, he thought you didn’t even know that.

“Pool boy?” Richard scoffed, and you and Tom simultaneously rolled your eyes, “Run along. This is between me and my girlfriend.”

“Sounds like she isn’t your girlfriend anymore.” He hardly got his taunting comment out before Richard let go of you just to punch Tom square in the nose. Tom stumbled backwards a little and regained his footing to punch him right back. Richard staggered in surprise by the force of the blow, and you took the opportunity to grab Tom’s hand and run from the hallway back into the crowded club. He didn’t protest as he followed you through the swarm of people, allowing you to take him out of the club.

“Why did you do that?” You said quietly, once the two of you were outside in the cold night air. You let go of his hand and didn’t even turn to look at him, opting to pace the sidewalk a little while he leaned against the wall, clutching his nose.

“He was harassing you.” Tom stated. When you heard the slight nasaliness to his voice, you turned to look at him and your eyes grew wide as you realized his nose was bleeding.

“Oh god,” You winced.

“Dick packs a punch.” He tried to laugh, but the humor was lost from his grimace in pain.

“Come on, my place is around the corner.” At your offer, Tom furrowed his eyebrows at you in confusion. Playfully, you added, “I can’t leave my knight in shining armor to bleed out on the side of the road.”

“I doubt I’d bleed out from this.” Tom mused, and the two of you began to walk back to your apartment. 

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you until there was a particularly brisk gust of autumn wind, making you instinctively shiver. Your sleeveless dress did nothing to shield you from the chilly air, and Tom noticed. Ever so awkwardly, he started to try to shimmy out of his jacket, mindful of his bloody hand. You paused, looking over at him in confusion, “Are you trying to give me your jacket?”

“Shut up.” He mumbled, embarrassed but still trying to take off his jacket to offer it to you. Biting your lip to keep yourself from laughing at the humor of it all, you helped him.

“What is it with you and jackets?” You joked, slipping it on over your shoulders. Seeing as he was in a long sleeve shirt and jeans, and that your apartment was just ahead, you weren’t going to decline his offer.

“I don’t know.” Tom shrugged, laughing a little at the memory, “I’m just trying to be chivalrous.”

“Very chivalrous, indeed.” You nodded as a laugh escaped your lips.

“Maybe one day, I’ll get it right.”

Tom felt that maybe this lighthearted air between the two of you was a step in the right direction for the two of you, even if he was clutching his bloody nose the whole time. Back at your apartment, he propped himself up on the bathroom counter and you got a few rags together to clean him up. With his legs spread, you stood in between them, wiping the blood on his nose off with a wet rag.

“Thank you, by the way.” You mumbled, concentrated on your work.

“Anytime.” He answered, his eyes studying you closely, memorizing every detail of your face. This was the first, and hopefully not the last, time that you had been this close to him and, damn, did he enjoy it.

“Let’s not make this a regular thing.” You teased. “And can you, um, can you not tell Harrison? He tends to get overprotective.”

“Shit.” Tom groaned and you immediately stopped your actions, thinking you’d somehow managed to hurt him. “I forget Harrison.”

“At the club?” You asked, a small smile coming over your face, and he nodded sheepishly.

“He was off dancing with some girl.”

“So he forgot about you.” You joked, before seriously adding, “You should probably let him know you left, but-”

“I won’t tell him. This is our secret, I promise.”

And Tom still fully intended to keep that promise. Years down the road, Harrison still had no clue that your ex was the one who almost broke Tom’s nose, but it’s not like your brother remembered that night anyway. All he knew was that the very next day, when you came over for drinks with him and the boys, you and Tom spoke to each other. And, well, Harrison couldn’t help the small flicker of happiness that filled him to see his best friend and his twin sister getting along... finally.

“Yep, just time.” You nodded, sending Tom a small, grateful smile.

Dinner seemed to last forever for Tom; you just did not eat fast enough for him. He even started doing the dishes while you sat at the table and talked to Harry just to distract himself from the itching nerve to just drop down on one knee right in front of you. It didn’t help that Tom knew Harry, Harrison, and Tuwaine were all anxiously wanting you to leave; they didn’t want to contain the secret any longer either. After nearly an hour of self-restraint on his part, he finally suggested you change out of your work clothes.

“So what movie tonight?” You asked as you made your way down the hall with Tom.

“I was thinking we could do something a little different tonight.” He said, a small smile playing on his lips. You eyed him skeptically before turning to open the bedroom door. You felt yourself choke up at the scene before you. Taking in the roses and lights as well as the room’s overall new romantic atmosphere, you were speechless.

“C’mon.” Tom slid past you in the doorway, holding out a hand for you. When you took it, he led you all the way inside the room, closing the door behind you.

“You did all of this for me?” You breathed out in disbelief, still processing the dramatic transformation.

“Of course.”

As you sat down beside him at the foot of the bed, in the perfect position to view the projected image, Tom quickly got out his phone to play the slideshow. Hearing the familiar tune of Ed Sheeran’s “Photograph”, you smiled, snuggling into Tom’s side. You watched in admiration as various pictures floated across the screen.

The very, very ugly first picture of the two of you together at 17 (with Dick cropped out and Harrison’s face replaced with a heart emoji). One of the many pictures the two of you took together when you went to Paris for your three year anniversary a few months ago. Goofy selfies you’ve taken together that should never be seen by anyone else. One taken by Harrison when Monty and Tessa’s leashes got tangled, trapping you and Tom together, before you were even actually together. A photo of you two in the world’s worst matching Christmas sweaters two years ago because Tom thought it’d be funny (and it was). Another photograph taken straight from a gossip magazine of the two of you at the Far From Home premiere (it was your favorite picture from the red carpet but also you couldn’t find it without the watermark); immediately following that one was Tom helping you remove your make up after the after party, make up wipe in hand (you two weren’t 100% sober when that was taken).

All of them were pictures of the happiest, most memorable days in your life, all moments that happened with the love of your life. As the song came to its bridge, Tom shifted out of your embrace to stand up, his hand deep in his pocket. When he turned to face you, his face dropped, realizing you were very teary-eyed.

“Darling, no, you’re not supposed to cry.” Worry was flowing through him now. What if you didn’t want this? What if you said no?

“Tom, yes.” You nodded, biting your lip to refrain from full on crying.

“Yes?” He repeated, suddenly confused.

“Are you going to ask me to marry you or not?” You teased. With a laugh, Tom got down on one knee in front of you, pulling out the ring box and opening it to present you with the most beautiful ring you could’ve imagined.

“Y/N Osterfield, the first time we met, you called me a dumbass, and I still am, but now I’m your dumbass that doesn’t know how to write one of those cheesy proposal speeches. You’re my best friend and my soulmate, and you know me better than anyone else. There’s no one else that I’d rather spend forever with, so will you spend forever with me and marry me?” Tom asked, hands shaking a little due to the nerves. Smiling and nodding, you leaned in to kiss him, despite the awkward angle from you still being on the bed and him still kneeling.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You mumbled happily between kisses. 

Laughing, Tom pulled away from you, “Don’t forget about the ring.” He took the ring out of the box and you held your left hand out to him for him to slide it onto your ring finger. You looked at the ring in awe for a moment.

“I love you, fiancé.” You said, eyes trailing for your ring to Tom.

“I love you, too, fiancée.” He replied and leaned in to kiss you. With his lips moving with yours, he brought himself up off the ground, blindly climbing onto the bed as you laid down on the blankets. Murmuring into your lips, Tom repeated his words happily, “My fiancée.”

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-hollands @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorrillaglue23 @petersoftboyparker @musicalkeys @duskholland @biebsmylife95 @dummiesshort @perspectiveparker​ 

Tom Holland Tag List: @quaksonhehe @tomkindholland

Series Tag List: @thefallenbibliophilequote @wassup-peoples @thevelvetseries @greatpizzascissorstaco @tomhollandsotherpinkytoe

[hwallout]

quatervois - ljy

summary: “Listen up pretty boy, we’re both murderers. We carry the souls of hundreds on our weapons. It doesn’t fucking matter who our targets are. We’re the exact same; except, I’m honest and I only do this because it pays good fucking money, and what is it you’re striving for? With your ass always covered? Pitiful peace and justice? That’s pathetic. There’s no such thing in this job.”

words: 21,7k (this was 38 pages on word im,,,i birthed a monster im so sorry)

genre: assassin!juyeon, assassin!reader, angst, drama, fluff, crack if u use a microscope

warnings: (not explicit) violence, murder, language

early an: holy shit it’s here

The way you got introduced and became a part of such a job wasn’t exactly how one would imagine.

Becoming an assassin hasn’t been a direct wish of yours. As expected, in the beginning, this exact possibility had never crossed your mind. Growing up in an ordinary, middle-class household, it was expected of you to follow the footsteps of many. Never the smartest kid in class, but with a knack for logic and solving thought experiments, you’ve imagined becoming a philosopher of some type. Nothing too spectacular, but interesting enough and different than a usual 9-5 job.

So then, how exactly have you come to holding a knife against a random man’s throat almost daily?

Of course, while young, a person is prone to the effect of the outside world and people surrounding them. Some pupils are lucky enough to live in the best surroundings and are given amazing opportunities; therefore, they grow up into kind, successful people. Then, there are those who thanks to certain circumstances end up walking a different path, all of them hoping for the best possible outcome.

In today’s society, the importance of money was huge. It was expected that every family, containing at least one adult person, was able to deal with constant fluctuation of cash and sudden, unanticipated expenses. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case in many households and those kids had to experience helpless life without enough money, while their parents fought for every coin.

It was incredibly unfortunate that it affected you as well, even so in the worst possible moment – right before university.  

Thanks to stupid reasons that could’ve easily been prevented, your family fell into dept, causing both of your parents to find second jobs. Not having enough money to continue with a rather expensive education, you felt obliged to find a job.

And of course, being so young and ambitious, but mostly misfortune driven, you thought that the future of the household was in your hands. It was a must to find something that pays good, fast.

Consequently, the first night was spent scrolling down the endless pages of Google. You searched for something that didn’t require any special education (because of obvious reasons), but would generously help your situation. Seconds extended into minutes, those into hours, days even. Finding a good job with no degree was pretty hard, yet what else could’ve you expected?  

The issue had you visiting most irrelevant sites, clicking on shady ads (and installing a thousand viruses, probably), asking strangers in online chatrooms. Lost and unexperienced, you struggled and almost accepted the proposal of being a stripper in a famous strip club downtown.  

Almost.  

The job you were suddenly introduced to was something seen in movies and video games only. For whichever reason, it appeared in a dream one night. The dream had you play the main character, dressed in all black, doing all the terrifying, dirty work with random weapons, but being paid a huge sum afterwards. It was scandalous enough to have you hesitating for a little while upon waking up, disgusted at the thought of doing it.

Still, remembering the money filled suitcase, you’ve overcome the initial revulsion fast. Unexpectedly intrigued by the idea, you thought a little research couldn’t hurt anyone. Finding a reliable site that offered information on paid assassins only took a couple of minutes. The author of the article was an ex-FBI agent, therefore you thought there couldn’t be data more reliable than this. Upon a quick look, you’ve come to the conclusion that the study was most definitely written with intent of educating people on this topic, rather than motivating them to apply for it. Oh well.

From an objective point of view, it was exactly what you were looking for. It didn’t require any special degree from any university and it paid horrendously well, with small variations on the amount due to different employers. Reading further though, you realized that not just anyone can become an assassin, or hitman, as people liked to call it.

It demanded years of training, hard work and terrifying change. The author described it as “...complete mutation of one’s mind and personality, utter desensitization to almost everything. Those people become machines...”. You didn’t doubt their words, on the contrary, you believed them completely. It was only logical that a person has to get used to blood, extreme violence, emotionless murder, which were no ordinary or acceptable sights and actions. Of course, you were in denial, about to laugh at yourself for even reading the article seriously.

But then your eyes landed on the pay again. The numbers were huge. It would definitely help. Your family needed this. Sacrifices had to be made.

The next day, you bought a burner phone with the last bits of your savings. Entering an empty alley, you immediately dialed a phone number you’ve found at 3am. You didn’t know what was the worst that could happen, seeing as you were dialing a shady number from a shady website with shady intentions. Maybe the phone would blow up – in which case thankfully, it was a burner. But that then meant you wasted money with no reason.  

Thankfully, the other side picked up and scheduled a meeting for the next day.

Everything about it was suspicious, from the first to the last moment. From the first meeting with a tall, fat man, wearing an expensive suit and a shiny Rolex on his wrist, to the moment that exact man patted you on the back for good luck on your first mission.

The training was all you’ve expected and more. Tears, sweat and especially blood were shed during that tough period. You were put through complete torture – whether it be emotional or physical. In the beginning, they had you watch videos containing mild abuse of random people, only to progress to horrible violence as time passed by. In times where you wanted to look away, a stern and strong man would yell at you, ordering to stay focused on the task – one that would make you used and nonchalant to seeing such monstrosities.

You were trained to take words, threats and even hits with a straight face, only to return ten times harder. Sometimes you thought that self-defense classes you were offered but never took in the past, would’ve definitely helped with the current situation. Simple pistols were immediately introduced to you, strange looking men always pressuring you into improving the mediocre aim. More complicated guns and snipers were thrown in your direction upon noticeable improvement.

Surprisingly, they began “paying” you from the start. The big boss said it was because he noticed your potential and incredibly fast progress, therefore used the money as constant motivation for further improvement. Unfortunately, the trainees you’ve encountered weren’t so positive about it, saying it was the boss’ way of making sure no one ditches out once they enter (“you’ll have to pay the complete sum back, he basically indebted you”). The money you received wasn’t a lot, but it was definitely a good starting position.

In a relatively short period of time, a huge change happened. You’ve transformed from someone whose eyes watered at harsh words, body flinched at sudden movement and hands shook while holding a knife, to a person who had no trouble taking a hit to the face, only to counterattack by slitting throats.

Your knack for logic and solving thought experiments and predicting outcomes came in handy, for they’ve worked on further developing that as well. They created a thousand puzzles, testing possible situations (“you have to run away, which route do you take?", "two witnesses saw you; how do you deal with them without anyone else noticing?”), always questioning your answers (“but then wouldn’t that make you more exposed?”, “what if suddenly your target chose to change their usual route?”) and having you argument them thoroughly.

You were trained to notice even the smallest of similarities between two situations, perceive possible danger/risks, predict where a target would appear next based on their recent roundabouts and analyze certain types of behavior. Basically, they tried recreating situations that would slowly introduce you to the harder part of your future job – the planning, unnoticed execution and escape from the crime scene.

The boss had personally hired personnel to train your selective attention. Everything a normal person would pass by and dismiss, you’d notice. The unusual movement of leaves in the corner of your eyes, a black bird in a flock of dark grey ones, the inconsiderable change in a person’s demeanor, a reoccurring but overlooked detail in everyday situations.

Friends weren't particularly made in such a setting; therefore, like many others, you've been alone through it all. Evidently, you've noticed other people around, mostly teenagers who were just introduced to the whole thing – yet never really bothered or had enough time to go and meet them. Everybody was just as scared and hesitant as you were when it all started. In the end, who knew who you'd have to fight against in the future. “Save yourself a heartbreak”.

Interestingly enough though, there was a boy who caught your eye. You weren’t sure when he was recruited, for he never seemed lost or inexperienced. The boy would walk confidently around the training site, shoot exceedingly well at the shooting range and progress through his endurance training perfectly.

Silently, you watched and admired the handsome boy with attentive eyes. Everything about him was as captivating as ever, further piquing your interest with every passing day. His form and skill were envious, while his mature behavior and breathtaking looks stole your breath away.

Eventually though, the boy disappeared.

Your parents were a sensitive topic. At first, they were told the job you found didn't have fixed hours, which sounded like the only logical explanation for why you never came home at the same time.

When the training became more serious and the changes in your personality and looks became obvious, you stopped seeing them. The place of stay was a motel a couple of miles away from the training site (or the supposed store you lied working at). Despite their constant messages and phone calls, pleads to come back home and stop “overworking” yourself, you stood your ground. The money you were paid was still linked back to them, and after a while you were informed that the debt was no more.  

Unfortunately, though, you've come to the point where you didn't want to back out from this horrendous job. And a couple months later, the boss forced you to cut contact with your parents.

Maybe it was for the better, because it wasn't possible to predict if they'd even recognize you. Their daughter built muscle, had a scarred body and went through a drastic change of personality. The desensitization did wonders to young minds. It came to the point where you were able to firstly watch and then execute a certain violent act (on a specialized, human-like doll), without having to look away. The two elders definitely wouldn't want such a person in their household.  

Although there really should've been, there was no shame or regret once the trainee period was finished and your feet set out on the first ever mission and first real kill.

Fast forward a few years after the first mission, and you were considered a high valued assassin.  

There really was no proper reason, but the flow of the river happened to direct you towards the more infamous customers. Drug dealers, wanted criminals, corrupted politicians, all sorts of people involved with illegality hired you. Over time, you've gotten used to it. Already familiarized with customers, type of targets and forms of execution, switching to work for a different type of people simply stopped crossing your mind.

Your prices weren't low at all. Actually, they were one of the highest for the job, yet with a great reason. Despite the victim count passing hundred, there hasn't been a single case that was ever (properly) solved, the employers always getting away with their work. Not even once have you been suspected or connected to any of the assassinations either, and it was all thanks to your tactics.

One could argue that there weren’t many ways a person could be murdered, but you managed to prove such a statement wrong. Not a lot of executions you've done followed the same path – which only showed how creative but also knowledgeable your mind was.

Because of one simple hair strand, whose color faded a long time ago, they called you Red. The nickname stuck with you ever since those torturous, trainee days, and nowadays, it helped avoid using your real name. You doubted anyone even knew what it was.

An interesting period began during your sixth year. Numerous politicians, usually the ones that heavily opposed the new government, would be found dead around the city. Not just them, but gang and mafia leaders who became too powerful and prominent in the public eye as well – many of those who hired you in the past.

Much like always, this government experienced the lack of trust and satisfaction from citizens. Rightfully so though, the public demanded change after supposed rigged elections, finally having enough of the fake democracy. Heavy and frequent protests blew up the nation, huge crowds of people led by a few brave individuals. Unfortunately, though, a few weeks in, the leaders of those would be found dead after announcing the protest scheme.

The terrifying amount of sudden assassinations were never solved or explained. At least to the public. The huge leap in numbers shouldn’t have been thrown under the mat so easily, yet it just happened. People began living in anger and fear. All the officials had to say about it was a simple “we're looking into it, but it’s not our main priority”, words that only intensified the rage felt by the citizens. That topic would always be dismissed with the same exact answer, occasionally adding that those assassinated already had “worrisome and problematic backgrounds”.

“It was only a matter of time when something as tragic as death would happen to them”

The situations greatly benefitted them; they wouldn't make an effort to explain whatever happened even if they weren't involved. All of those people worked against them, one way or another anyway. Still, the murders weren't spontaneous, and just like many others, you caught onto their sly play.

For a little while, you tried getting some insight and information on the cases. Your intentions weren’t to solve them and serve justice, but rather find whoever was the one hired by the government. It was pure curiosity to know who was the infamous colleague.

The information given to the public (obviously) wasn't much, and you were left connecting all the different cases using simple wide shots and shitty descriptions. The best source of information appeared to be freelancing journalists, who published the most details. Unsurprisingly though, those weren't enough for a proper open case either, for someone evidently prohibited them from posting more.

One thing that had you frowning was the fact that everything was way too clean, perfect and similar to your own way of work.

Closing the laptop after reading yet another empty article, you looked around the dark room. Sighing out in frustration and cracking fingers one by one, you wondered if you're supposed to consider those people your actual colleagues or rather enemies.

The clock ticked eleven and fifteen; just forty-five minutes before midnight. The atmosphere in the tiny apartment was calm, no sound other than your quiet breathing heard. Darkness filling your bedroom was only interrupted by the big moon that greeted you through an open window. Yet, much like any other Friday, the outside world seemed to be bustling with life, getting ready for what's yet to come.  

Standing up, you stretched fast and walked towards the entrance door. Picking up a black coat from the hanger, keys and phone from the little table next to it, you headed outside. Tomorrow was yet another mission, this time a man by the name of Lee Baekgon. The reason was usual, another member of a gang who had involved himself with the government, becoming an unfortunate mole.  

Thanks to the extensive week-long watch and study you've done on the man you had gotten used to his ethics and everyday habits. The experience you had and the surprisingly uninteresting and bland life of Lee Baekgon allowed you to do so in such little time – which always brought more money. The faster the execution is, the more expensive it is, and of course, you cared about the amount in your pocket.

Now, having everything planned out and prepared, you went out for a relaxing walk – as per usual on the night before. The streets were filled with people, hurrying in all directions, either coming back from their late shifts or going out with their friends.

Setting a regular pace, you camouflaged into the crowd and breathed in heavily. Colorful lights from nearby stores lit up the street in a thousand shades, creating a unique palette out of the usually dull path. Your eyes skimmed over people, not really staying locked on anyone's head or scalp. All of them were plain shapes to you, only looking similar to those who you've had the job of executing. Either way, it was pleasurable to hear the overall sound of people. The voices, laughs, gasps.

Suddenly and surprisingly, as if trained, your eyes locked onto a tall, lean, dark blue haired man walking in the opposite direction. It could’ve been because of his height or hair, but he stuck out of the dense crowd like a sore thumb. The stranger wasn't looking at you, rather ahead of himself, but you immediately scanned his profile. An unfamiliar feeling spread through your body, sending shivers down your spine.

The man carried himself with a certain kind of confidence, his steps calm and collected. He held his head high, looking forward as if staring at an invisible dot, walking towards an unknown destination. His eyes, although dark and hooded, were sharp and focused. The nose bridge of his created a slight shadow over the side of his handsome face.

Unexpectedly, as if sensing your eyes, the man looked back for a short second. Immediately, a familiar image of a teenage boy who exceeded in all training fields flashed before your eyes. Alas, before you knew it the man was taking a sharp turn and straying away from view.

The organ inside of your chest performed one incredibly hard beat, before going back to normal. Someone bumped your shoulder, apologizing right away and breaking the short-lived daze. For another moment, you stood motionless, looking in the direction of the other, the blue strands now long gone.

Shaking your head quickly and picking the pace up again, you tried processing what has just happened.

You'd see the man quite often after laying eyes on him for the first time. He even had a nickname. Blue.

Blue's fashion was quite predictable now, for the man seemed not to prefer colorful clothes. During the day, his wardrobe consisted of simple t-shirts, black jeans and occasional black leather jacket. One thing that changed almost daily though, was the bag that he'd carry. Nonetheless, Blue would always walk as nonchalantly and confidently as ever.

Each time you'd encounter him, the man would remind you of that certain boy. Weirdly enough, Blue never once looked back, no matter how many times or how close you'd pass by. No matter what though, you'd notice the same pair of sharp eyes peeking through thick blue bangs – a feature you very well remember.

The second thing that would have anyone's interest piqued, was that you'd see the man at the shooting field as well. On the days when you decided on visiting and practicing your (already impressive) aim, he would already be there. You'd watch from afar, the last couple of shots he'd take before turning around to leave. The male never once stayed any longer. Blue wouldn't even check on his hits - he'd shoot thrice and leave immediately.

A thing that many would fail to notice, would be the fast movement of his arms as he pushed the gun back into his rucksack.

Over time, you've realized that the number of encounters with Blue was too great for a stranger. The possibility of it not being an accident started bugging you. Eventually, it became worrying.

In the dead time of the night, while walking through forgotten alleyways no one really passes through, you'd see him. On rainy nights, while everyone else ran or hid away as to not get soaked, Blue would walk calmly.  

And maybe he had always been there, yet you simply never cared or gave it enough attention up until recently. Or maybe, it was something more serious.

His sight would often be locked onto his feet, hands shoved deep into jean pockets. During the night, Blue would wear all black, a mask and hood frequently covering up his face, yet the dark blue strands never failed to peek out. He'd also wear the same black worn out backpack, the one he never brought out in the daylight.

Although you've met and dealt with many different kinds of people, never once had someone managed to make you feel so curious but anxious at the same time. Neither of those feelings felt good.

Despite your initial pleasant surprise, Blue became someone who you disliked pretty fast. It bugged you how the two worlds happened to overlap at the most unconventional of times. Whether it was when you were spying on someone, following them or coming back to the base with blood on your hands, the man would make his appearance. You suddenly felt as if this stranger had a whole insight of your life and knew all of your secrets. As if he was aware of your job and worked as a spy whose target was you.

Feeling apprehensive was something you never expected to experience, especially while out of work. For the first time ever though, you thought about executing someone who you weren't ordered to take out.  

Thanks to instances such as those stated earlier, you've developed a side mission over time. As if in you were in a game and suddenly had to unlock another small part of the main story to progress. There was an undying need to find out if your suspicions were correct and what exactly was so off-putting, upsetting about this man (who seemingly did no real harm to you). And of course, if there was a way to fix it before jumping to the last, desperate solution.

Truthfully, you never got any thrill from the pure act of execution. Taking someone's life was as emotional as raw poetry, but those emotions were never felt by the heart, much less the brain. Sometimes you wondered what your thoughts on everything would've been if you hadn't changed so much.

Taking another deep breath, you grit your teeth and backed the scared man against a wall. With a knife held close to his Adam's apple, the man gulped and winced for the last time. Fat beads of sweat raced each other against his neck. There was no remorse for the other – neither him or the rest of his happy family.

You didn't hear the pleads and wishes of the victim, as the cotton gag filling his mouth prevented any noise from escaping. The thin blade sliced through skin and flesh in a delicate manner, effectively damaging his windpipe. The man gasped for air, but only coughed back blood. White cotton soon changed color. Watching the white material turning red didn't make you feel any different, just like the eyes of the man who struggled in pure agony.

Only when it looked like the blood was about to create a puddle on the ground, did you remove the cotton. The other gasped two, three more times, too exhausted and lightheaded to take any action. With much force, you pulled the body towards an open manhole and dumped it inside, listening to the way it heavily fell into the water.

That's what drug debt does to you.

Closing the manhole up, you stuffed the bloody cotton inside your coat and hid the knife inside of your boot. Taking off black gloves and mask, you pushed them beside the cotton and walked in the opposing direction than the one you came from.

The connected alleyways seemed to go on forever, but they were no unfamiliar place to you. To say that you used them often wasn't a lie, but there was rarely anyone else doing the same. Light steps echoed shortly; the fog that unusually filled the tight space became thicker as you delved deeper. Suddenly, there was yet another echo coming from the other direction. The person was seemingly walking towards you. Unconsciously, you prepared to reach down for the knife.

Through the fog you could faintly make out a silhouette of a man approaching. Every step you took allowed a clearer view of the other, and eventually the full sight of his figure. With an exaggerated eye roll and in pure disbelief, you silently cursed your absolute luck. It once again proved to be just who you expected.  

Blue walked with hurried steps, something you haven't seen before. Upon coming close enough to you, he looked up from the ground, pace slowing down and eyes meeting for the first time in a long while. Time seemed to slow down as well for both, one short moment extending to unexpected lengths.  

Both were dressed in similar, dark attire, carrying a fake expression of innocence. Yet, the moment their irises met, a certain feeling spread throughout their bodies, as if they quietly confirmed it wasn't a coincidence that they met here at this time.  

No words were exchanged, the moment finally ending as you passed by each other. There was a strong urge to look back after the other, but an inner voice whispered quietly, saying it was smarter not to do so. Not even when the man's steps promptly stopped echoing and you felt eyes on your back.  

A couple of steps later, you picked up on a sudden, but barely noticeable smell of human blood. For a moment, you were tricked into thinking it was the cotton or knife that were stuffed inside your coat. Still, the closer you got to a certain container leaning against a building wall, you realized it couldn't be it.

Once a foot away from the huge object, you stopped. The smell wasn't at all strong, but still noticeable enough. You didn’t want to interfere with whatever took place, but it didn’t take long to realize someone laid dead in there. In the end, it was the smell you were surrounded with pretty much daily.

Dots were beginning to connect slowly, but you were once again forced into moving. The feeling of being watched was making you feel uneasy, but this time you were tempted enough to turn around.  

There was no one standing where you expected them to. He was gone.

Sighing out loud, you turned around, took a quick left and finally walked out of the alleyway. There were almost no people on the streets, and the weird feeling was finally gone. The walk back to the base was just enough time to analyze all the different possibilities that unexpectedly plagued your mind.

It shouldn’t have surprised you that it happened so soon.  

A few rather peaceful days have passed since your last encounter with him. Time seemingly fled by, but unlike many other, these days were calm. The missions have come to a stale; therefore, you effectively used your free time to do chores and visit the market. In the end, the fridge wouldn't fill itself up.

The thin paper bag swung side to side as you walked. Cans and bottles made an unrecognizable but even melody as they clashed against each other. Lost in thought, you aimlessly walked forwards, enjoying the cool gust of wind hitting your face.  

But then, in the corner of an eye, you picked up on a man running towards you.

He was in his forties, a body of short, strong and somewhat fat build covered by a formal, grey suit. There was little to no hair in the middle of his head, while two thick patches spread on the sides. He wore a panicked expression, eyebrows furrowed and eyes all but screaming for help. It took him only a few seconds to reach you.

“Miss?” The man panted, immediately bending down to place his hands on his shaking knees. “Miss, I beg for your help”.

Glancing at his face again, you recognized the other as Mr. White - a man who has been barking against the government quite a lot recently. The propaganda he preached was slowly but surely gaining more supporters, and it suddenly clicked for you. This little rat probably had a sudden reason to feel unsafe and afraid of experiencing the same end as many others. What a shame he was brave only on the TV.

For a moment, you were hesitant, unsure if accepting to help was a right thing to do. Especially when such a person was in question. You waited a minute, while the other gathered his thoughts and managed to form coherent words. He must’ve sensed your reluctance, for not another second was wasted before he began explaining.

“I’m sorry, I feel exposed and like I’m being followed and...” Mr. White went on, blabbering something you only hummed along to, while scanning the surroundings. The park he came from wasn’t that crowded, unlike the last time you’ve passed by. There were only a few families playing with their kids and people walking their dogs.  

Nothing out of the ordinary, yet a certain man walking a tall Doberman managed to have you interested.

“...that hooded man...”

Lips moving to form a smirk, you almost patted yourself on the back for suspecting the right person. The stranger was rather tall, wearing black fitting jeans and an oversized cherry red hoodie. Despite it being warm outside, a big hood was pulled over his head, and his face was somewhat covered by a cap he wore underneath. A strong hand gripped the chain leash that held a dauntingly big, black Doberman on a trained distance, walking in a calm pace. The dog was huge, with ears pointed up and forwards, steps elegant but threatening. One could swear that it could rip a man’s head off with one bite.

“Why didn’t you take a taxi?” You asked back, cutting off the current ongoing speech.

“I tried... I tried calling for one but... none... none stopped, please help me... stay with me, wait with me” He practically begged, knees bent and hands pressing together as if praying. Passerby watched the scene unfold with surprised expressions, some even mocking the way the male behaved. Frowning at the current situation, you pulled the man up by his bicep, not in the mood for any unnecessary drama. He looked way too pathetic.  

Nodding as a reply, you started walking towards the pedestrian crossing not so far away. On the other side, at the designated spot, you’d be able to call for a taxi.

The whole time, you ordered Mr. White to walk in front - as if your smaller form would be any coverage for him. Despite not being strong, the wind was still powerful enough to carry the quiet echo of footsteps behind you. The person walked with the same pace, keeping suspicious distance.

Once at the traffic light, you stopped. The panicked politician didn’t dare move, his limbs stiff and frozen like a paused frame. At the given moment, you weren’t sure if the man was even breathing – his chest wasn’t at all moving. Unfortunately, the wait for the light to turn green was quite long. The steps that used to echo behind you came to a halt as the suspicious man finally caught up. It was then that you turned around to look at him – eyes meeting with a pair that held no emotion inside of them.

Blue looked even more handsome up close and in broad daylight. With fierce eyes and dominant aura, he seemed quite intimidating. While his facial features now resembled a grown man, they once again reminded you of that certain young boy. It was a sudden flash of clear memory, something you’ve only experienced while crossing paths the blue haired man.

Blue attentively caught onto your interested gaze, for his eyebrow rose and lips formed a smirk. Slowly, as if you were supposed to notice, he glanced behind at the motionless politician and then back at you, this time with a wider smirk. Such a bold move.

And of course, it shouldn’t have surprised you that it was him. Coincidence no more; your doubts were crumbling down like a house of cards thanks to the sudden stimuli.

The black dog watched you like prey, hungry eyes tracking every move. Thankfully, it was properly held in its place by the stronger man.

As soon as the light turned green, Blue took off, not sparing any more attention to neither of the two. The Doberman trailed in suit, walking graciously beside its owner, following the exact pace. You let him a few steps ahead, before crossing the street with Mr. White who seemed more relaxed now.

Paying the last bit of attention to the young man, your eyes unconsciously trailed down his leg. Immediately, you noticed the outline of a certain object that strained against the material of his fitting jeans. With a quick analysis, you recognized the weird shape – it was a knife.

That was it; exactly all the additional information you needed. The young boy grew up to be someone you now worked against.

Work, work, work. That’s all your mind was filled with for the past few weeks, and with a good reason. Being an undiscovered assassin often demanded immense amounts of creativity (which really proved to be hard when unmotivated) to avoid similarities between cases. Sometimes, you even had to choose the riskier and more public approach, much like today.

The current mission demanded a month-long preparation and as crazy as it might sound, obtaining explosive was the easiest part of it. You were lucky to have a couple of acquaintances who somehow had the exact stuff you needed, and at a great price as well.

For exactly four weeks, you’ve watched over a certain man, a tall, strong and well-known drug dealer called K. Besides actively selling all sorts of opium and illegal substances, the man led a powerful gang named The Vipers. You’ve never been hired by that gang, but you’ve heard a lot about them through numerous connections and accidental eavesdropping. Sometimes, you thought that assassins were the biggest threat to their employers, thanks to the amount of insider knowledge they pick up on over time.

The Vipers heavily depended on their leaders, brothers K and B. The older sibling, K, as the stronger leader, took most control over their big bites, while B did the other, sporadic and less serious work. Still, they cooperated perfectly, working in sync to create a big, illegal underground market, that the government never spoke about.

Unfortunately, they got themselves into a big fuss with another powerful gang, Weiro, the details never once directly explained to you. There were a couple of things that you could’ve suspected went down, but really, it wasn’t your job and interest. Anyhow, Weiro employed you, with a strict order to kill K in an extravagant way that will have his gang warned properly. Their request had your eyes rolling back; music wishes were never a favorite.

For a whole month, you studied the man, all of his whereabouts and paid attention to the people he interacted with from an unassuming distance. While K probably lived a very stressful and interesting life behind the closed doors of his hideouts and warehouses, his everyday ethics were pretty bland and easy to predict. Of course, you weren’t the one to complain, for it made your job easier.

During that time, you’ve also thought of an extravagant but careful enough way to finish the mission. Thankfully, creativity wasn’t a skill you lacked most of the time.  

The plan was simple when broken down. Every third day, at 4pm, K. drives from his home to The Vipers’ main warehouse. He takes the exact same route to reach that destination in the shortest period of time, driving either his black Porsche or B’s red Dodge. Both cars were one of a kind in the area. There are exactly 6 traffic lights he has to stop at before advancing to the highway and leaving the city. With some advanced work, you managed to interfere with them through a tiny device that was set up and connected to a phone. It still didn’t work at command (which you wish it did), but it bought some time by prolonging the red light.

Thankfully, your city had a wide chain of sewers that spread under every single street, numerous manholes leading in and out.  

The public town cameras positioned at almost every corner were connected to your phone as well, allowing a great view of the street you’ll be operating on – or underneath, for a better narration. Navigating through the sewers should be relatively easy, thanks to the map you’ve studied numerous times. After interrupting the traffic light, K’s car will (presumably) stop right above a manhole, through which you’d be able to set up a 30-second explosive. The car should explode a street away, killing K.

Surprisingly enough, the plan worked out perfectly. With hurried steps you’ve walked into one of the empty alleyways, immediately running towards an already open manhole. There was a bright yellow warning that indicated a hole in the ground – one that no one closed even after a whole year of the sign just standing there. Looking around for the last time, you slipped in, sprinting away the moment your feet touched the ground.

Steps echoed through the empty tunnel, contact with wet surface only creating loud splashing noises. Currently, the screen of your phone was split, half showing the camera display of the street and half exhibiting a blue button and a frozen counter. A few minutes of fast navigation through the sewers, you looked up, realizing the designated place was there. A quick look up granted proof that the plate was there. K was then taking a turn, only a few hundred meters away from you.  

With a quick and forceful tap of the blue circle, you watched the light turn red.

The powerful vehicle driving closer appeared even louder down there. When K stopped and the noisy engine came to a halt, the cameras were there to confirm his perfect position. Hurriedly, you climbed up, working the plate open with a miniature crowbar (that you carried in a backpack, along with the explosive). Then, with calculated and calm movements, the metal cover was carefully moved and the car was right there.

Huge amount of smoke entered through the opening, making you cough. Much like always, time was precious and there were only twenty more seconds. Skillfully, you securely tied the tiny bomb to the underside of K’s vehicle, closing the manhole up and setting the timer off immediately after.

The light turned green and the mighty engine roared for its last time.

Taking a clean jump down, you ran back the same way. Somewhere in the middle, you heard a huge bang, followed by strong vibrations of the ground. Smirking, you nodded in satisfaction because of yet another case well done.

Outside, on the main street, while many panicked about the car currently on fire and a dead man inside, the familiar blue-haired stranger watched with calm in his irises. He was leaned on one of the walls, laughing at the scared pedestrians and their clumsiness. Then, as if programmed, the moment you came out of the alleyway, he turned to face you.

Caught like a deer in headlights, you stopped in tracks. Blue smirked boldly, nodding slightly with a raised eyebrow – as if giving props for the finished job. Once again, an anxious feeling overtook your body, slight goosebumps appearing on soft skin. Gulping, you took a deep breath and walked right past, trying not to look intimidated by his sharp gaze.

Despite the familiarity you felt, Blue never once showed any signs of knowing who you once were or where you came from. Yet, it looked as if he knew exactly who you were and who you worked for currently, which was a worse situation to be in.

Once again, you aimlessly walked through lit up, bustling streets. Unnecessarily, you felt like a part of the normal community during these times. The chilly wind was somewhat relaxing against warm skin, serving as a distraction from overthinking. There were a thousand things that could go wrong every time, and thinking about them wouldn’t make anything easier. In the end, your skill and instincts never failed you, every move already memorized as muscle reflex.

About twenty minutes in, you caught onto a familiar person a few meters ahead. There was a small group of people separating the two of you, therefore they allowed short glimpses. Still, the tall, lean physique and dark blue hair that gleamed under the street light, gave their identity away. It was him.

The man’s posture was something you were already used to – relaxed, with steps long but calculated. His head was bent down lifting up for a second only, before falling down again. With the way his arms were positioned, you supposed the male held a phone or some sort of device in his hands.  Not daring to approach, you chose to follow his movements from a safe distance.  

A tall, strong man took a quick right turn into one of the side streets, effectively distancing away from the crowd. You wouldn’t have paid any special attention to him, if it weren’t for Blue’s gradual stop as well. Choosing not to blow the cover off, you continued with the same pace for a little while, ignoring the other as you passed right by. After about thirty more steps, you sat on one of the free benches that allowed a clear view of the blue haired man.

He stood on the same place, now leaning against one of the street lamps, phone still in hands. The device lit up Blue’s beautiful features, his stern eyes occasionally looking up and at the direction that man disappeared in. From his actions, you presumed he was the next target, and the assassin was only studying his behavior and roundabouts.

Although you couldn’t see, Blue watched the man enter one of the buildings, then waited for the lights on the 3rd floor to turn on and a window to be opened, much like always. When that happened, he pushed the phone into his jacket and turned around, happy with the final observation. You sneakily watched from afar, admiring the relaxation and carefreeness.

Then unexpectedly, Blue turned his head slowly, eyes meeting with yours. They found you so easily and that’s when you realized there was no cover to begin with. The uneasiness once again itched your skin. It was clear that he was aware of your positioning, hell, he probably even knew when you were behind him. The man’s eyebrow rose in an amused manner, before he looked the other way and walked away.

Something told you to go and follow.  

Taking careful and light steps between people, you tried to stay as low-key as possible, although the other probably expected – scratch that, knew – you were behind. His phone rang, an annoying ringtone interrupting the previous atmosphere. Blue picked up quick, talking quietly but laughing loudly at whatever the person on the other end said. Quickening the pace, you were able to get close enough to hear pieces of their conversation – unfortunately it wasn’t anything interesting, rather a casual talk between two friends. You suspected the man used this as a foolish cover.

Suddenly, he turned a corner, disappearing right behind. The phone call was still ongoing, his strong voice echoing through the alleyway for just a short period of time before getting lost in silence. You waited a couple of seconds before advancing.

It was your shadow that first made it around, but it made no effort of warning you about what’s to come. A silent scream left your lips, as the man you’ve been stalking for the past twenty minutes stood right ahead. His body was so incredibly close, minty breath fanning against your face. The corner of his lips formed a teasing smirk.  

“Hello, Red” He spoke, voice low, but with a pinch of playfulness in it. His big hand lifted up and reached behind your ear, taking a hold of a certain strand of hair. Noticing the expected color was no more, Blue frowned lightly. “Oh? It’s not red anymore?”

His act evidently surprised you, eyes wide open and lips parted slightly. The fact that he called you Red had only increased the bewilderment. A battle of foreign emotions started inside of your mind and chest. A foreign, bubbly feeling was fueled by pure hope that the other somehow remembered you, while the rational mind suspected the man’s real intentions and knowledge. In the end, Blue had never once interacted with you directly, how would he know about a hidden strand? Who did he hear it from?

“Hello, Blue” You replied, looking him right in the eyes and choosing to ignore his previous question. There was a slight tinge of dominance in your words, something that the other wasn’t quite expecting. “Nice to finally meet you”

“Haven’t you a long time ago, though?” He questioned, the smirk now turning into a light-hearted smile. Something about it had you wanting to wipe it off immediately. Nevertheless, his words once again had a double meaning. They echoed in your mind, replaying like a never-ending mantra. Technically, the two of you were no strangers, but what reason should you give him? Was it thanks to the faith that intertwined your paths or was it the history you’ve indirectly shared?

“Let’s just say I like to make things formal like this” The more you observed the man’s features, the more you grew intrigued. He was just so perfectly sculpted, and it made no sense that someone as breathtaking as him busied himself with such dirty work. Yet, God only knew what had forced the young boy to choose such a path.

“Well then, my name is Juyeon” Blue extended his hand for a handshake, once again showcasing just how big his hands were. Not bothering to take the gloves off, you accepted his greeting, somehow managing to feel the roughness of his palm over the black leather. A quick mutter of your own name was seemingly enough for Juyeon, for he hummed along and repeated it with the same tone. You didn’t miss the smooth flow of the vowels off his tongue.

Tranquility enveloped the small alleyway. Wind blew through it in strong waves, messing up your hair. Two frames stood just a step away, never once breaking eye contact, but prolonging the silence that swallowed every other sound. It was becoming awkward, yet neither knew how to bring up topics that obviously interested both.

“So, want to grab coffee, or?” Juyeon asked, breaking the suffocating atmosphere. His words served as a splash of cold water that brought you back into Reliaty, eyes averting their gaze for the first time. You watched a rat run from one trash can to the other, disappearing behind it in a matter of seconds.

“No, I actually have something more important to do” The truth was, you wanted to go with him out of pure curiosity, but a lot was holding you back. Even after imagining this exact moment a thousand times, you weren’t sure you were ready for it. Apart from that, there was yet another more impulsive reason for the refusal. You’ve been taught that everyone was an enemy when looked at from the right angle, especially in this job. Therefore, you were to deny as a precaution to not allow just anyone to use any information against you.

And what’s the most unfortunate was that Juyeon wasn’t just anyone. He was exactly your type. Which meant that he was both the most dangerous and safest of them all. The worst combination.

“But less important than following me for about...” The male looked down at his watch, an expensive device tightly secured around his wrist, “20 minutes?”. Blue's expression was one of curiosity, probably anticipating the reply to his remark.

“I had time to kill” It wasn’t at all believable, but the other let it slide with a slight chuckle. He glanced at you with an amused look, before speaking.

“Kill huh? Working so late?” Juyeon teased, the chuckle from before now growing into an audible laugh. Truthfully, this exact reply had caught you off guard pretty well and the silence that suddenly spread was a solid proof of it. Fortunately, though, the other allowed time to think of an answer properly, all while having the cheekiest smile spread on his lips.

“Why so surprised? Weren’t you doing the same a little while ago?” Juyeon nodded at your question, shoulders shrugging fast as if to nonchalantly approve of it. You were quite surprised with his quick confirmation that didn’t hold a pinch of hesitance. It felt as if he was perfectly fine with verifying all of your suspicious and letting you know about the trivial things. Logically speaking, it was only fair, considering how much he apparently knew about you.

“Well then... I can’t do anything about your time” Tsking to show fake disappointment, the male pushed his hands into tight jean pockets and gazed down. It was surprising that he wasn’t pushing the proposal, rather accepting the denial. For whichever reason, your pride accepted a decent hit. With one foot, he carelessly kicked a rock on the ground with a heel, making something underneath his shoe cling. The sound didn’t go unnoticed.

“I guess I’ll see you around then” Juyeon added, before turning in the other direction and slipping away. Before you could react, the man was already ten steps ahead, carrying himself in the same relaxed fashion as before. His steps echoed, the soles of his shoes way too hard on the ground. Upon a quick accidental look, you noticed a piece of shiny metal on his heels, reflecting off the light that happened to hit them directly. Huffing was your only reaction to it.

The whole way back, your thoughts were a hectic mess, one that couldn’t be calmed down, for they always wandered towards the blue haired assassin.

You never really liked warehouses, for they were way too open. Thankfully though, the one you were working in today wasn’t empty – crates and boxes filled with unknown substances and materials were scattered all around, as well as machinery that’s used to move them around. Overall, all of those objects allowed much cover and plenty of room to comfortably work around the broad place. Moreover, your steps weren’t going to echo too much in such a setting.

Today’s target was a man named Captain Lee, a case similar to about a hundred others previously assigned – work with government officials. You never cared how many people did what, but you supposed the most died because they hadn't paid their part of the deal or smuggled with the government. Either way, they happened often and you will never run out of work just because of that.  

Hidden and on a great distance, you watched Lee and another man (assumed government official) enter the warehouse. Unfortunately, both had a generous number of bodyguards, but luckily, none were allowed inside. The huge door was the only easy entrance option, but since that would immediately ruin the mission, you decided to infiltrate some other way. Working fast and precise, you climbed up set of drainpipes and entered through an open window on the roof. Done in less than three minutes – record time. Dropping down was a more challenging move, but nothing too bad, for you entered far enough from the two men to remain unnoticed.

Your shoes that were two sizes bigger, proved to be a bigger hassle today than ever before. The metal railing was very hard to move over without making any unnecessary sound. The mask on your face helped you breathe properly, the air being way too stale for anyone’s liking. Thankfully, there were no major light sources that would interfere with your cover. Full black attire matched perfectly with the semi-dark surroundings.  

The voices of the two males weren’t loud, but in an empty space like this, the echo was immense. It helped you navigate around or between the crates and gigantic shelves in the most accurate manner. The pistol in your hand was already equipped with a silencer, your hand reaching up to stabilize it for the last time. Slowly, you sneaked closer, back pressed against a set of boxes.

Then, unpredictably, something moved in the corner of your eye.

Stopping dead in tracks, your full attention moved to the staircase not so far away. It was protected by one of the huge machines – those you supposed organized all of these crates. Your mind promptly wandered off to the worst scenario – it must’ve been a guard you failed to notice. Gripping the pistol with more force, you aimed at the suspicious area, holding the bullet in, but ready to fire if needed.

Despite the darkness, you noticed a puff of blue hair. Lowering the gun with an inaudible sigh, your eyes rolled back, jaw clenching in frustration. The boy peeked out carefully, irises finding yours in an instant. He nodded in your direction, hand moving slightly in a low wave.  

Looks like the day has come when the two sides get to work together.

Juyeon seemed to realize that as well, for he moved closer to the edge of his cover, evidently willing to make a plan of action. For a moment, ego and pride made you think about ditching the offer, why would you ever need help? But on a second thought, he would definitely make everything easier, and who in their right mind would deny that? Shuffling closer, you accepted the silent proposal with a nod.

Although far away, the two succeeded in communicating through short signals, functionally organizing a proper scheme. You’ve got to know the male was equipped with a knife only – which really didn’t make things easier, but it was possible to work around it.

Juyeon got moving quick after ending the discussion, making his way around the warehouse. You watched his steps until he disappeared, readying yourself to fire at Lee and disappear if anything goes wrong. In the end, you weren’t going to risk getting caught because of someone else’s mistake all while already being so close to completing your part of the job.

Once in position, the other assassin threw a coin in another direction, the tiny object immediately serving as a distraction. Exactly then, both of you jumped out of cover, not giving the two men any reaction time before It was too late.

Juyeon grabbed the official from the back and covered his mouth with one hand, the other coming up to slit his throat, while you fired two rounds at Lee’s head. The pistol, although suppressed, made two sets of noises that still sounded through the warehouses.

Experienced, you knew that if the bodyguards had trained ears, they’d pick up on the sound. Therefore, in a hurry and with a wish to get out of there asap, you grabbed Juyeon’s unoccupied hand and took off running. Hurried steps probably made more sound than the shots you were worried about, but thankfully there was still no one that could hear them.

Juyeon diligently followed behind, holding onto the thin blade and occasionally looking back at the entrance door. Fortunately, both of you were able to reach the exit in a matter of few minutes. Just a moment before slipping out, he picked up on a glimpse of two bulky silhouettes entering the warehouse. Pay people to protect you, only to be murdered without witnesses. Bodyguards my ass, Juyeon thought.

Neither spoke until far away from the mission location. Walking through the woods, both tried making as little noise as possible, gripping their weapons tight just in case there was any more danger. In the natural setting, black clothes greatly contrasted the greens, yellows and browns. Nonetheless, the two figures silently walked through with determination.

Only when in complete clear, did the both stuff their weapons inside their attire, taking the hoods and masks off before anyone could notice. More relaxed and less covered up, you’d look like a normal couple taking a walk in the nature. The road you took led towards the center of the city, but it was a long, long walk.  

After scanning your emotionless face for a few minutes, Juyeon was the first to break the silence.

“Don’t you feel the smallest bit of remorse? He had a sick wife and year-old twins waiting for him at home” The question was a pure shocker. Instantly stopping in place, you looked the other in the eye with the most baffled expression. Out of everything he could’ve asked, that’s what he chose to say? Was he judging you? Was he expecting you to actually care?  

You weren't sure where he was coming from.

“Excuse me? Do you? Are you any better than I am?” You bit back, hoping the pure annoyance that dripped from your words reached the other. Juyeon’s face didn’t change at all though, it remained blank, as if your passive attack hadn’t even touched him. As if you were getting worked up for no reason.

“He didn’t have a family; I don’t sign such things; therefore, I don’t feel that way” The male replied, in a matter of fact tone. His attention wasn’t on you, but an invisible dot in the distance, somewhere between all of the trees and bushes. Still, he could clearly feel you looking at him with a suspicious expression.

“Don’t look at me with those eyes. I have a choice and I choose not to do it, simple as that. Not everyone works for the same people and has the same goals as you”

You wondered how can someone make your blood boil in such a short period of time. Much like you, Juyeon trained for years; it was a fact that he had no empathy for any of his victims – such thing was inevitable. Every assassin in training had to go through the desensitization program, and no one was different than the other when it came to feelings of this kind. So, what exactly was he trying to do with his questions?

Why did it matter if you cared or not? Why did it matter if someone had a family or not? What was the difference? Just because he worked for ‘the good guys’, he got to be the morally right one? What even was it they fought for? Peace, order, harmony in the community as a whole? Or satisfaction, more power of the hungry ones on top by murdering individuals? You had to laugh.

All these years of work and you’ve never once stopped to think about someone’s family or friends, for it simply wouldn’t have changed anything about the final decision. ���No hard feelings” was one of the few rules of the whole ordeal. Killing people was your job, the execution of someone didn’t have anything to do with their sick wives or young children.  

You stepped forward, pressing a finger into Juyeon’s chest.

“Listen up pretty boy, we’re both murderers. We carry the souls of hundreds on our weapons. It doesn’t fucking matter who our targets are. We’re the exact same; except, I’m honest and I only do this because it pays good fucking money, and what is it you’re striving for? With your ass always covered? Pitiful peace and justice? That’s pathetic. There’s no such thing in this job.”

At this point, you were fuming, jaw clenched and eyes boring holes into the other’s forehead. Although your voice was hushed, it was quite authoritative. The boiling blood that flowed through veins quick only fueled your irritated brain. Truthfully, the boy did feel slightly intimidated, but more so intrigued.

“Get your head out of that utopia mindset. “Oh I’m killing because that helps keep our community peaceful”, no! You’re killing to make the rats on the top happy and get paid a fortune! You’re taking a life whoever you’re working for. It does not matter if they have ten starving children, or a sugar baby waiting for them at home. There’s a reason they should be dead and you’re not the one to question it! Much less using family as an argument! That’s pointless!”

Juyeon didn’t try and oppose your thoughts, only watched your annoyed being work itself up with every sentence spoken. The smirk on his lips slowly grew wider, eventually turning into an honest smile. Although not in ideal conditions, you managed to captivate him so much, and the man wanted to know and hear more from you, even if that meant you had to yell at his reasoning.

It was interesting how the tables have turned though. Juyeon suddenly wanted to continue observing and listening to you, admire this smaller being that held so much power and determination. It was only now that the male realized the appeal of doing so, after so many years of wondering just what had you looking at him from a distance for so long. The two of you were so different now, despite being so similar back then. Yet the one thing that hadn't changed, was the beauty of the young girl that had evidently followed her into adulthood.

He’d hardly admit it, but he was glad that faith had done its job at setting the two of you up again.

Thanks to your state, the next fifteen minutes went by without any more words. Juyeon kept a safe distance, a couple of steps behind you, unsure of what to do. The tension was beginning to make him uncomfortable. At one point, the thin blade placed inside of his hoodie moved, and the boy let out a fast yelp. The knife managed to shift in such a way that fortunately didn’t harm, but warned the other of its position.

Juyeon crouched down and pushed one arm underneath his hoodie, moving the weapon and trying to push it deeper into the hidden fluffy pocket. For whatever reason, worried about the lack of presence behind, you turned around and noticed the man crouching down, an uncomfortable expression on his face. Approaching out of pure curiosity, you lowered to be on eye level – not quite expecting Blue’s next move. Just to break the unbearable tension, he thought.

With a quick grasp of your arm, Juyeon pulled you towards him, falling back into the soft grass. The two figures fell down, one of which was smirking wide with hooded eyes and the other wore an astonished expression.

“You see Red, you’re some type of enemy for the regime as well, working for sketchy people and killing unnoticed... Be more careful, otherwise I can make some money off you too” The boy joked, voice calm but low. His sudden change of demeanor had you pleasantly surprised and without much thought, you joined in on the play. Situated on top of him, you lowered yourself down, just a few inches away from his face.

“Oh, you can, but you won’t” You replied back, a smirk of your own bidding its hello.

“What makes you think I won’t?” Juyeon answered, suddenly pressing something sharp against your stomach. In any other instance, the action would have immediately set off your self-defense mechanism, but right now, the man was allowed to have his harmless fun. Somehow, you felt the other wasn’t a threat, and your senses never lied to you.

“Because it’s against your morals, pretty boy. You wouldn’t dare. You kill only when ordered and I highly doubt I was ever on your list” With that, you managed to take home a doubtless checkmate. The man tried ignoring the way you called him for the second time that day. Slowly but surely, you took a hold of Juyeon’s big hand that held the weapon and moved it away to a much safer distance. The other let you, without any protest or fight back.

“Plus... I don’t think I’m working against you; I don’t touch anyone else but the bad guys, remember?”

At such close proximity, it was possible to predict what were the thoughts of both. Unexpectedly though, beside a moment-driven need to press your lips together, there was a hidden feeling of understanding and content. Both remained in the exact position for a little while, breathing the same air and enjoying this unique situation.

Without any special reason, you lifted up and touched Juyeon's nose with a soft finger. The act changed the atmosphere quick and caused both to giggle, pleasantly surprised to experience it recklessly Mindfully, you then hoisted yourself up and off the boy, helping him get on his feet as well.

An imperceptible crack formed inside of your soul, something that was just a beginning of a storm.

The next two weeks passed by without any encounters. You took time off to regain energy before moving onto the next scheduled and fixed mission, while Juyeon busied himself with the usual, easy executions. He’d run around the city, hang about in underground passages throughout the day and sneak through alleyways during the night. His victims weren’t big bites at all, for he had gotten used to simple cases of unprotected individuals.  

Juyeon has always been covered by the government, which was to be expected since he did work for them. Every single life the assassin had taken, was never recorded in his dossier, for it remained as clean as ever. The cases he and a few other colleagues worked on were never investigated properly, always thrown under the mat or closed by the court after a few days. It often happened that innocent people were forced to take blame, just so the families of victims felt ‘content’ and ‘justice’ - despite it being far away from that.

The boy had a proper reason for why he chose the path of paid assassination. It's not rare to hear that people who’re born in a violent environment grow up to be violent as well – and unfortunately that was exactly what happened to the blue haired assassin.

Juyeon was only seven when he had lost a dear parent. On an unfortunate night, his father had come home shitface drunk and proceeded to beat up his mother. It was sad to say, but the boy, as well as his younger brother, were used to violence, as it occurred almost daily. Their mother would always usher the two youngsters into their rooms, before she strongly took all of the anger of the older so her kids wouldn’t have to. The man had rarely ever come home sober, and the number of times they listened to the pitiful gasps and cries downstairs was way too great to count.

Still, one night, Juyeon noticed his mother laying on the ground in a pool of red liquid and her mouth parted with eyes fixed on an invisible dot. The father, enraged and unable to process the situation properly, lunged towards him. With extreme amount of luck, Juyeon managed to shield his younger brother for a second, immediately grabbing him by the hand and running out into the open.

Even so young, Juyeon was aware of everything. Raindrops fell in an even, calm rhythm on the pavement while the sky flashed every now and then. He ran almost barefoot, the socks on his feet soaked by the wet pavement. All the time, he held tight onto the younger’s hand, encouraging him to continue running despite everything else. The teddybear his brother carried was dragged along the ground, plastic nose creating a strange noise over asphalt ground.

It took a long time until they were able to find someone on the streets in such weather. One young and reliable looking woman stood under a shop shade, seemingly waiting for the pour to stop. Mindfully though, she ran out of cover to help the same moment they came into view. The woman was shocked and distressed, listening to the heartbreaking story of two young souls who spoke through never-ending tears, their voices breaking with every sob.

Juyeon and his brother were taken into custody quick, and their father was arrested in a matter of one day. Sadly, the siblings were soon separated, both going into different families due to unknown circumstances. They never saw each other again.

Juyeon grew up into a teenager with a never dying urge to get revenge on his father. The picture of his mother lying dead on the ground replayed behind his eyelids every time they closed, it only fueling the hidden fury. He couldn’t fall asleep easily and when it somehow happened, he wouldn’t sleep for long as the image would haunt his young mind even then. Juyeon was unwillingly updated on the state of his father, who he visited not even once.

Either way, Juyeon silently plotted how to get back on the remaining parent, not letting anyone know anything about those plans – which fell apart in the end. The elder died in prison two years later – cause unknown. Juyeon hadn’t bothered to go to the funeral.

The teen ended up without a revenge, nor the justice he thought his mother deserved. Juyeon turned towards bad habits and streets fights, often falling victim to toxic relationships. Everything he did was to ease off the horrible feeling of guilt and anger he simultaneously felt. Secretly, everyone feared him, his sharp words and skills, despite the boy never doing any intentional harm to others without a proper reason. The fights Juyeon got into were only when he felt immoraly wronged, or when someone really pissed him off.  

Eventually, the boy was introduced to the job he’d later become a professional at. Young Juyeon thoroughly thought this tough decision over many times, especially when standing before the big, bossy man who immediately offered him a contract. The older said that people like him tend to be perfect for the job, particularly when driven by a certain emotion – something that would drive them on. At first, Juyeon wasn’t sure where he would end up with a “degree” in assassination, therefore hesitance was a reasonable reaction.  

Sly as a fox though, the boss used unfortunate history against the rookie. Juyeon was told that if he did well enough, there’s a chance he’d be accepted into the government guard – and it fought for justice and peace.  

It was surprising how kids of different backgrounds happen to receive the same treatment and training, only to end up on different places again. One could think that since everyone experienced identical programs, they were meant to work together – when it was the exact opposite. The minor differences in performance and work ethics that could easily be overlooked, were the ones that labeled you a certain position. And unfortunately, it often depended on just what kind of person they turned you into.

Juyeon thought about his time there often. Short pieces of memory flying by and disappearing in an instant. The six years he spent watching different clips of torture and learning how to flawlessly execute a silent murder. All the days his mobility was challenged – running the same course, climbing different heights and crawling through miniature gaps while carrying different weapons.

He thought about all the different people there, all of the kids that he watched get beat up and heard scream – many of those giving up after only days of training.  

But she never did.

The little girl that always observed his practices and paid attention to his every move, as if she was trying to remember them as well. He remembered the younger taking everything thrown at her like a complete champion, determination and will for success written over her face in bold letters. Juyeon always wondered just what it was that made her so persistent.

Shivers ran down his spine as the face of the little girl in his head took on familiar lines. They formed a mature and stoic, yet beautiful as ever face. Juyeon sighed loudly, still not processing the fact that faith made it be so their paths crossed again.

How exactly the two of you managed to find each other so fast in a club full of people, was unexplainable. It could’ve been a sixth sense that you’ve developed, for the two pairs of eyes immediately locked the moment you walked in. Thanks to previous experiences and an uninteresting game of guessing, you’ve come to the realization that once again, the playing field was same for both.

Slowly creeping up to the man, you threw your hands around his neck, attempting to dance to whatever song the DJ was remixing. It was an easy way to get blended into the crowd and communicate with the other without raising suspicion. Flashing colorful lights along with the excessive amount of fake mist and sweaty people once again reminded of the reason why you didn’t like clubs. But alas, work had to be done.  

Juyeon had caught onto your plan, but the smirk and hooded eyes clearly showed that he was quite amused with your boldness. Carefully, his big hands creeped up to your hips, bringing close to his and swaying them to the beat of the song. With a gasp of surprise, you giggled, turning around in Juyeon’s hold, back pressed flush against his strong chest. The male’s head moved closer, lips lingering just above your ear. Out of pure curiosity, with a swift move, your ass ground against Juyeon’s crotch, eliciting the sweetest gasp in return. Before any remark could be made, you glanced back, speaking in such a volume that no one else heard.

“Who is it tonight?”  

“One of the sisters, Yuri” Juyeon replied, voice low and rough, soft lips finally touching your ear. The grip on your hips tightened, as a precaution to not dare pull the same trick twice. Although the colorful tints of flashing lights turned the whole room into hectic mess, Juyeon was thankful for it hid the flush that unknowingly overtook his features.

“Oh, how exciting!” You replied in a sarcastic tone. “I’m here because of Aria!” The answer received a hum of understanding in return.  

The two sisters, Aria and Yuri, while not the most influential on the streets, had managed to get themselves involved in quite a few problems with the big ones, for a short period of time. To know that the fall of both happened due to one’s mistakes was slightly disappointing. It was one of those rare cases you were disclosed all details, and simply put, it had your eyes rolling back. Everything could’ve been easily sorted out.

Despite being twins, they were complete opposites. Aria was always the calm, calculated and careful sibling, while Yuri ran around, causing problems, concerning herself with illegal jobs and getting away with it thanks to her connections. Those associates often asked for something in return, and more often than not, it was someone with some type of political power. You guessed that’s why Juyeon was here tonight. Can’t say it wasn’t to be expected.

Aria, although the more mature twin, got dragged into everything thanks to Yuri. Surprisingly enough, she managed to find a place in the community fast. At first, Aria often did the dirty and hard work of finding new druggie customers for her bosses. Eventually, she progressed and ranked up significantly (no one really knows how she did it so fast), finally allowed to deal crack and heroine by herself – while of course having to pay a percentage back to the leader. The semi-autonomy was there in theory.  

It all went smooth and well until Yuri found out. To her irrational brain, it only meant free shots of fun every time she needed it. Therefore, like a fool, Yuri started using the drugs her sister had to sell, without giving a coin back. Whatever the reason was, Aria let her.

Debt happened fast, as Aria couldn’t pay back enough money, nor make up a good enough excuse as to where the drugs went. The siblings tried prolonging their (Aria’s) payment date and buying just a tad bit more time to get everything sorted out. Empty promises were spoken through disposable phones as Aria pledged the money will be ready soon.  

And as if they were suddenly blind and deaf to the fact of being in debt, the sisters decided to open a nightclub. Apparently, the earnings (they hoped would happen fast) would be used to pay back thousands of dollars they owed.

Unfortunately, being too hopeful was never a good thing. And that’s why you were there on the exact day of the grand opening.

“Well then, can I ask you to be my partner in crime, Miss?” Juyeon whispered, nudging your temple with his nose. Although in the mood to play with the other for a little while longer, you had to get to work first. Once again turning in his hold, you nodded and began bopping along to the new beat that vibrated off the walls. With foreheads pressed together, you tried ignoring Juyeon’ sharp gaze and focusing on discussing a plan of action.

°•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° 

It was unusually easy to get inside of the security room, turn the cameras off and delete all footage of the current night. With a bit of secretive work, two assassins found a blueprint of the whole floor, familiarizing themselves with all important points of the nightclub – first and foremost the security room. Immediately, both got to work.

Thanks to your moderately revealing outfit and Oscar-worthy acting (no sarcasm intended), you worked as a distraction in the first part of the plan. Accidentally walking into a male bathroom, you managed to gain attention of drunk and drugged men. As expected, they followed out like hungry dogs.  

In the meantime, Juyeon slipped in and out of the bathroom through an open window. The drain pipes, weird infrastructure and façade of the whole building, allowed him to make his way around and towards the security room. The window was barely open, but with a bit of force, it was lifted up higher and Juyeon jumped in without much sound.  

With quick work of skilled fingers, the footage was deleted and all cameras were disabled for the night. Following the same path, the male left, making sure to lower the window into its previous position before returning to the bathroom. Luckily, your charm and flirty words worked well enough to keep other men outside the room until Juyeon came back.

He felt wronged seeing everyone looking you up and down as if you were some type of provocative art piece, hoping to get a feeling with their nasty fingers. Immediately, Juyeon approached the little group and wrapped a protective arm around your shoulder, leading you away. Sounds of disapproval were heard from the rest, but neither paid no mind, already focused on the next piece of the plan.

°•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° 

Keeping up the cover often required creative and interesting measures. You’ve been there, done that many times, yet never once have you made out with someone in public because of it.

At one point of the night, while progressing towards the next point, you’ve noticed a couple of guards paying a little bit more attention than usual. The amount of security surrounding one piece of the corridor was enough information to understand that the sisters (or at least one of them) were in one of those rooms. Trying to play drunk and drugged was so far the best shot at being left alone, but it seemingly didn’t work this time, as one bulky man walked towards you. The sound of his voice was almost silenced by the deafening music playing in the background.

“I’m sorry this is a-”  

Suddenly, Juyeon pushed you against a wall. Big hands cupped your face, holding it so delicately, carefully, as if you were a rose made out of glass. Yet, his lips moved against yours with a hungry and lustful feeling, only breaking apart to catch a breath before continuing where interrupted. One of his hands trailed lower, hitching one of your thighs over his hips, earning a rather surprised and breathless gasp in return. Unfortunately, the guard wasn’t willing to cooperate.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to leave this area” He yelled, voice unexpectedly high for a man his built. Juyeon chose to ignore the other, kisses now trailing underneath your jaw and over the tender skin of your neck, nipping but not strong enough to leave any marks.

Growing impatient and with an obvious pressure from his colleagues that bore holes into his back, the guard grabbed and  Juyeon’s bicep, effectively breaking the two apart. It took all of Juyeon’s mind strength not to turn around and break the man’s arm – that much was obvious from the sudden fire in his eyes.

“Leave” The bigger said, pointing back towards the direction you’ve came from. With glassy and hooded eyes, you watched the intimidating man, giving him a wide, forced smile. Pointing between the two guys, you started laughing, occasionally looking away and trying to suppress more giggles from spilling out. Juyeon caught onto the tactic and followed it, his shoulders rising and falling in a fast rhythm.

“I’m sorry~ we’ll goooo” Not wanting to create any unnecessary drama, you grasped Juyeon’s hand, leading the way while fake stumbling and force laughing the whole time. The male tried supporting you, and for a more authentic look, his own steps shortened and uneven.

“Drunk kids... I can’t bel..” Was all you’ve heard from the guard, before his voice blended in and disappeared in great noise that was an EDM beat.

°•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° 

Around one in the morning, when the night was reaching its peak, the two targets came out of their room. Despite other distractions, Juyeon and you spectated from a safe distance, dancing against each other for the nth time that night. As per usual, Yuri appeared high and out of her mind, while Aria dragged her towards a small terrace that overlooked the dance floor. There was a guard that followed behind.

“I guess it’s true that they’re giving a speech tonight... how eventful” With a sarcastic tone, Juyeon whispered in your ear. You looked up towards the terrace and hummed along to signal his words have been heard.

“There’s only one guard following, there must be more up there” He continued, head dipping low and lips caressing the exposed skin of your neck. Following the beat of the song, Juyeon moved one of his legs between yours, interested to see the reaction he’d get. His bold touches and moves intensified the unusual tension and sudden heat you already felt. The mission had to be done fast, since you weren’t sure how much more of this new, pleasurable torture you could take. Both were being pretty unprofessional, evidently forgetting about their main focus at times.This wasn’t at all like either of them.

“Taking them out up there is too risky anyway” You began, leaning your head back into the juncture of Juyeon’s shoulder, before speaking again, this time with a more teasing tone “Can’t guarantee that my idea is safe either, though. Are you up for the challenge?”

“Oh woah, don’t get too cocky on me now, baby” Blue replied, smirking when your head shot up to look him in the eyes. It faded fast, an eyebrow raising in a questionable manner, as if his words weren’t special and deserving of such a reaction. “Tell me. I get to hear the offer first before taking it, right?”

“You’re acting way too unprofessional. We’re here with a reason” You whined, suddenly wanting to distance away from the other, but a tight hold on your hips didn’t allow that.

“Me? Unprofessional? Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t the one grinding down on my thigh” Juyeon bit back with a generous amount of confidence, the one that people carried themselves with when they were aware of being right. The colorful lights hid the immediate flush that overtook your features. A quick look to the right proved the man that his words definitely had an effect.  

“So? Are you going to tell me or let a chance slip away?”

°•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° 

Aria and Yuri laid dead inside a big closet, their necks snapped and heads hanging in an unnatural way. Juyeon and you once again happened to be the most compatible teammates, getting the job done and leaving the club before anyone suspected a thing.  

The time between leaving and present passed by in a blur and way too fast. Or maybe it didn’t, maybe it was just the power of Juyeon’s soft touches and hungry kisses that made you forget all about it.

Currently pressed against a cold brick wall a few streets away from the nightclub, you enjoyed the attention the man was offering. It all felt unusual and new, but not in a bad way. The wall temperature greatly contrasted the one of the body pressed against you, creating an unusual but pleasant combination. Juyeon’s lips rarely stayed on yours, often wandering down to your jaw and juncture of shoulder. This time though, he didn’t care about the marks, pink bruises now decorating the expanse of your neck. With hands in his dark blue strands, you pulled Juyeon closer, moving in just the right ways to allow more access to the soft and undamaged skin.

It wasn’t clear why both assassins gave in to the sudden want for each other. There were no evident emotions to back up their actions, just a strong need that had to be fulfilled with no one else but the other. Some could suppose it was the consequence of their blunt actions from before, while others may argue that it was something much more meaningful. A relatively new, exciting state of mind and experience that obviously didn’t have to happen, yet it did. A slipup so to say - or at least both hoped that it was.

“How can you be this hot after just murdering someone?” The man asked breathlessly, a quiet chuckle leaving his lips that formed a slight smile. His sharp eyes looked at yours with a new kind of emotion, something you weren’t able to pinpoint just yet. Juyeon’s deep but quick breaths matched yours, both trying to take in as much air as possible in a short period of time.

“What can I say, I’m a natural at keeping people around my finger” You raised a pinky up, playing along, voice low and seductive. Truly, there were missions that required acting flirty and playing dirty, therefore your charm has developed quite a lot. Still, what you tried implicating at was the situation from earlier that night, when all those men gathered around you. There was no reason to expect a reaction from the other. Juyeon’s expression quickly changed into something that resembled a frown, but it disappeared just as fast, not allowing any time to make any remarks about it.

Suddenly, the thigh that was once again positioned between your legs flexed, making you flinch and unwillingly whine. The man smirked, closing in the distance again, but not enough for yet another kiss.

“Should I be scared to become one of those people, then?” He whispered, irises playing between your eyes and lips that were just a breath away. The intimate proximity that went on for way too long happened to have a negative effect on you. Gradually, a pinch of doubt and hesitance began clouding your mind, scolding it for being too carefree next to the other. They reminded of just who the man was, and that the game currently played was a dangerous one. Without much thought, like a reflex, your hand moved quick, retrieving a pocket knife and pointing the tip at Juyeon’s barely covered stomach.

A gasp of sincere shock left the man’s lips, eyes opening wide, as he scanned your face. With an indifferent voice, but a slightly different mind, you spoke.

“I don’t know, should you?”

It was impressive to see how much effect people had on each other. Despite being busy with constant planning and thinking, there was always space in both heads to think about each other. Occasional pondering about his lips on hers, or her hands in his hair – all intensifying the anticipation for the next time.

Juyeon often found himself rushing missions because he knew the female wasn’t busy at the moment. Whenever passing by the familiar building and a certain room had even the slightest bit of light in it, the boy would invite himself over. It appeared that Juyeon risked much more than the other, and definitely much more than he should’ve.

Just out of pure skepticism that underlined every action, you never directly planned any of the meetings, rather letting the other barge in or set time and date. It was easy to catch onto his habits and when to expect a knock at your entrance door. For added security, weapons were kept in secretive places for quick use if the man ever decided to turn on you. And although fighting a never-ending battle inside of your mind, you grew to anticipate the hidden meetings. His kisses were spreading fire throughout your body, words messing with your mind and touches offering pure euphoria.

There were occasions when the two of you would meet at the rooftop, one always back from a mission while the other waited patiently. Sometimes, Juyeon’s hands still dripped fresh blood, the male not willing to waste any time on cleaning them before rushing towards you. It was a special feeling knowing that the fingers that used to do such horrifying things caressed your skin so delicately.

Slowly but surely, some type of understanding was established between the two. Then, the whole relationship wasn’t purely based on physical connection, and it meant much more than a way to satisfy hormonal human needs. Periodic talks about present worries and bothers, as well as thoughts on current events, allowed them to get to know each other better. Alas, the connection never reached its highest level, as numerous obstacles stopped them from reaching it – biggest being the female's constant hesitation.

Objectively speaking, Juyeon let himself open much more than the other did, always easy on bringing up topics to discuss about and contemplate on. He also shared much more information about himself, many of them being trivial and harmless things, but still something you stoically held back on. Of course, that didn’t mean you were silent during two-way conversations, just pickier about what you wanted to share.

Juyeon understood that, and he appreciated everything you’ve told him. That compassion was the foundation that will slowly build a more trusting and open relationship in the future. You valued his way of acting, enjoying harmless discussions and gradually getting used to having a companion who became a part of your almost daily life.

With a little bit of effort from both sides, everything was going to work, or at least you hoped. You encouraged every passing meeting, every second together, to hit the wall of reluctance with as much force as possible – still, unfortunately, it stood strong.

Blue and Red created purple during their nights together, merging with the beautiful melody of the storm that only grew bigger the closer it got.

Thanks to the impeccable weather, it was slightly challenging to get to the roof this time. However, with master level acting, fake politeness and a little bit of luck, you were able to avoid suspicion from the residents you passed by. Most definitely, and fortunately, not a single soul knew that there was a sniper rifle packed in a rather sizeable guitar bag you carried. Along with its components such as silencer, optical sight, bipod, additional ammunition...

Once on top of the building, you immediately unpacked the bag’s contents. First of was an expensive, albeit small door jammer that was installed straight away, effectively sealing the entrance you just walked through. Trying it a couple of times just to make sure, you deemed it impossible to open. Next was the sniper.

Having done such a thing countless times before, it didn’t take you long to properly set and load the weapon with a set of new bullets. The fresh smell of metal filled the small space around. Hiding behind a pile of rubbish, you set the bipod behind the cornice, muzzle and barrel pointing towards the road your target was supposed to appear on soon.  

Then, like a lightning, you immediately withdrew back, sniper pulled way behind and body pressing flush against the ground. There was a sudden feeling of being noticed and even watched, to which you were always quick to react. Keeping low for as long as time allowed, you dismounted the bipod as it only made advancing more difficult. Slowly but surely, you moved around, setting everything up on another corner with tall plants and flowers. The aim wasn’t as clear as before, but it wasn’t too big of a problem. Yet, despite the natural cover doing its job relatively well, the dangerous feeling was still present.

Taking a quick risk, you took off the current optical sight and mounted another, angled one, that allowed you to look around without being too exposed. Since you were on the 11th floor, on the tallest building in the area, there was no way someone could’ve noticed you from the roads down below. Glancing over them quickly just to make sure, the theory was deemed correct – no pedestrians had their heads raised up and looking in this exact direction.

Looking at the sky, you searched for drones or any other objects that could be supervising the area (as that unfortunately, did happen before and they had to be destroyed manually, via a gun). Thankfully, there were none, but instead of making you feel relieved, it only intensified the anxiety previously felt. Where was it coming from?

All you needed to get the desired answer, was an accidental glance over the roof of the building right across from yours. There, behind a pile of wooden planks, metal bars and all other unnecessary trash, you noticed a barely noticeable, but suspicious movement. Locking eyes on the exact spot and rolling the plastic on the sight, you zoomed in, getting a clearer image.  

Shockingly enough, there was a barrel peeking right between the two wooden planks, and it was pointed right at you.  

And then it quietly fired.

The bullet would’ve missed anyway, but thankfully, you moved down just in time, watching it penetrate the wall behind. Your heart leaped, pumping blood faster and kicking against your chest, almost as if it tried jumping out. Strange type of fear enveloped your body. It wasn’t fright for own life, rather unpleasant surprise that fueled thoughts of being outplayed. At this stage, you knew very little. Was it only one person? Were there more people? Were you cornered?

For whatever reason, the person on the other building continued firing, twice to be exact – yet both bullets hit the exact same spot as the first one. It didn’t make sense at all, but at least ir allowed keeping track of the opponent.

In a quick act, you moved, peeking just enough to expect to be fired at, but it never happened. Moving once again and receiving nothing in return, you positioned the sniper and looked through the sight for the nth time, trying to confirm if they were still on the same location. And that’s when you noticed.

A blue haired man peeking out, head cocked to the side, his sharp eyes and smirk offering a teasing, harmless expression.

Rage, disappointment and distrust overtook your body fast, blood boiling on a temperature higher than before. All emotions served as a strong reality check, a shot through the heart and mind, reminding of just who you were. They helped strengthen the invisible wall you were so desperately trying to weaken, ruining almost all of the progress made. Still, their consequences that will definitely leave a mark were your own fault and no one else’s.  

A drastic switch happened. While following Juyeon’s movements through the sight, you unconsciously aligned his head with the red dot in the middle. That person was suddenly someone who made you feel threatened, anxious, alarmed, and not the one who was supposed to help achieve change. You expected so much from him, yet all you currently felt was pure let down and anger. The inner battle was as hectic and loud as ever. A finger creeped up to the trigger, trembling as it came in contact with cold metal.  

Before the pull happened, your phone vibrated almost unnoticeably. It apparently did the right, desired trick, as it effectively broke the dangerous, fury-driven daze. With an audible sigh, you remembered who the actual target of the day was, aim moving downwards in a quick motion. Just as predicted and on time, a big black jeep turned the corner, driving into the street underneath you. Getting into a more comfortable position, you trailed the movement of the black vehicle.

First and only to come out of the car was the exact target. His appearance was immediately followed by two quick, (thanks to the silencers, somewhat) muffled gunshots, the bullets hitting just right. With two holes in his big shiny head, the man was sent falling down, momentarily holding onto the open door before faceplanting the cold concrete. Blood seeped out, painting the previously grey ground in a dark red, almost black color.

But the thing was, you only shot once.

Albeit caught off guard with the shocking realization, there was way too little time to get lost, every second more precious than the last one. Hurriedly, you deconstructed the sniper, pushing everything inside the guitar bag in a careless manner. When done, you moved towards the door and took the jammer off in record time before storing it inside the carriage as well.  

A quick glance was thrown in Juyeon’s direction, but unfortunately there was no sight of said man. For whatever reason, you were somewhat glad.

In a slow and relaxed manner, with calculated steps, you took the stairs again, making sure to appear just as natural and neutral as before. Thankfully, almost no one occupied the hallways. On the 5th floor, there were two elderly women happily boasting about their children, beside who you passed with a polite bow. You even smiled at them, but the expression was deemed unseen thanks to the black mask that covered your face.

Luckily, another semi-smooth mission was done with. You were out of the building and away from the scene in a couple of minutes, with no doubts about being seen or suspected. The only bothersome thing was the sudden change of feelings towards the blue haired man. A dangerous and slightly embarrassing switch could’ve had a very tragic outcome.

And of course, it wasn't worth missing out on the fact that for the first time, both had the same target.

You agreed on further meetings, although they were much different than those in the past. A drastic change in atmosphere was present from the first second, yet neither really wanted to comment on it. Despite being close physically, Juyeon didn’t feel warmth coming from you anymore, or at least not in the same amount as before. The male felt your body shiver under a cold gust of wind, but your skin didn’t feel any colder underneath his fingertips. When he tried offering you a jacket to cover up, you denied with a half-hearted smile.

It was unreasonably late, around three in the morning, which meant the city was at its calmest. There were less people on the streets than fingers on both hands and almost no apartments had their lights on. The moon was the most trustful source of light, its soft hues illuminating everything and making it more beautiful.

Nowadays, fewer words were exchanged as well. Silence was common, both bodies quietly cherishing what was left of a cracked relationship rather than trying to fix (or ruin?) it with meaningless talk. Leaned against the male’s shoulder, you tried forcefully letting go of tension to feel a piece of that carelessness that once existed between you. Truthfully, there was a willpower to continue fighting and experiencing the strange kind of joy, but there were so, so many obstacles. And most of them were created by you.

Neither had the explanation as to why this was still an ongoing thing, why neither gave up despite the little flame burning its last few seconds. No matter how long you searched for the answer, it just didn’t appear. A deep sigh resonated in a small bubble of space.

The biggest and constant bother was that invisible wall, still standing proud. Apparently, it grew taller and stronger every time you remembered the unfortunate event from two weeks ago. As time passed by, you became more skeptical, giving time and attention to thoughts you weren’t fond of. They whispered and laughed at a poor being for daring to experience something it wasn’t supposed to in the first place.

You didn’t even look Juyeon in the eyes anymore, always finding a nearby rock or wall crack a more attractive sight. Why? The fear of looking up and seeing no emotion in the man’s eyes was a fearful thought, mighty enough to forbid you from even trying. And why was it affecting you so much, why were you still holding onto it? You didn’t know.

Hell, your fucked-up mind was daring you to kill the man and he didn’t even know about it.

Juyeon, much like always, put more evident effort into the whole thing. It looked as if the male was aware of the trigger for this sudden stumble (not fall!), and was ready to give it his all to fix everything. Immense guilt was evident on his face, and if you looked up just once, you’d be able to read it off his beautiful features.

Despite your mental distancing and defiance, he never gave up transparently trying. You being there with him every night was all the hope Juyeon needed to continue. Even if you weren’t as willing to see him the next day, Juyeon would knock on your door. Even if you weren’t in the mood to talk, he’d ask a question about one of your favorite topics. The assassin wasn’t religious (and truthfully, how could he be?), but every night he’d pray for this tough period to end already. If for nothing else, then to have your eyes lock with his one last time.

Overall, these last few nights were a weird type of battlefield. Juyeon’s hand moved up to your shoulder, occasionally rubbing down your arm, hoping to feel just a bit of warmth there. You’d allow it, sighing and leaning into his hold, trying to, for the nth time, force a bit of feeling back.  

Either way, the two waited for a beautiful sunrise before disappearing in two different directions.

You should’ve believed the tension that thickened with each word the other said. You should’ve refused and backed out from this exact job when not even one person in the room appeared familiar. But it didn’t happen.

For the first time in an incredibly long time, the employers weren’t a part of a mafia or drug dealing gang. That much was disclosed, with a rude comment that it wasn’t your job to know anything more about them, anyway. It had your blood boiling and eyes squinting suspiciously, irises locking down every of the five men present.

Their detailing about the job that had to be done was just as, if not more, brief. Not believing that someone expected you to work properly with just three sentences of information, you asked a couple of times to have them repeated. Every time, the leader of the group sighed louder, eyes rolling back in an over-exaggerated manner, before turning around and giving a knowing look to the man beside. Were they joking around with you?

When asked about the basis behind this assassination, in hope of getting at least a little bit of early lead on who you’re dealing with, the man offered nothing useful in return. Instead of giving a proper reason, or at least putting effort into making a believable story up, he threw something senseless right at your face. Upon asking how you’re supposed to work without knowing how the target looks like, they replied with:

“They’ll be the only ones there, guaranteed. It's just a little game of hide and seek... with a twist. Isn’t that exciting?”

You were spared the detail that the target was just as (if not more,) experienced than you at these “murder plays”, and they demanded huge amounts of caution. Three main points were specified, the address, time and the fact that this was an extremely dangerous mission. The legitimacy of that information remained unknown, as they once again failed to give a coherent explanation. Despite the last point serving as a warning, you suddenly weren’t given a chance to back out.  

“Excuse me?” You said, disbelief all but dripping from those two simple words. “You’re sending me against another assassin, did I connect the dots correctly?”

“You’re a smart one”

“I don’t want to work on this case” You denied, getting ready to leave, when the other cleared his throat.

“We want this person taken out at any cost, and we particularly chose you for it. In the end, we did hear quite a lot of positive reviews... therefore you seem to be the right person, no?” The man tried flattering you, but his voice was laced with venom, lips moving slowly to form an unnatural, wicked grin. He wasn’t looking at you with fake friendliness anymore, rather an emotion that could soon turn dangerous.

“That doesn’t matter to me, I have the right to not accept the job. My signature is not yet written on the papers” A small pile of documents resting on the table was pointed at, endless rows of black text only missing a simple name written in ballpoint pen. The other chuckled lightly, gaze turning threatening in a blink time as he lifted a blue pen and spun it around his thick fingers.

“That’s easily dealt with” The weight of his words hit immediately, a shocking situation that you’re dealing with for the first time. There was no training for this and lack of experience was making you a nervous mess.  

Shuffling body mass from one leg to the other, your eyes remained on the ground, hands anxiously intertwining. There was nothing that came to mind that would help the current position, and you wondered what all of this was about. No one has ever forced you into working for them, much less threatened to sign the contract in your name.

The man chuckled once again, saying nothing but thinking a lot. This was it, they had you.

“Don’t you want this?” Another male spoke, his frame moving from the doorway and opening a black suitcase on the table. The carriage itself probably cost a fortune, as it was made of expensive leather, and the mouth-watering amount of money inside was as alluring as ever. It would probably be the best paid work ever. Still, you managed to look up from the bills and into the leader’s eyes with strong confidence.

“Does it even matter? You’re forcing me to do it anyway” The words barely made it past your tongue, their weight way too heavy. The freedom you had while working was something greatly cherished (for a lack of better words), and it was suddenly taken away. It almost felt as if nothing was in your power anymore. Fearful shivers ran down your spine.

“Well then, glad we got that behind ourselves. Sign here”

The whole process of sealing the deal was done in a matter of seconds. Your signature was scribbled in the ugliest way possible, and the pen was thrown to the other side of the room as a form of protest. The weak plastic broke due to the force of impact, the ink painting a patch of white wall blue. Turning around to leave, you stomped with heavy steps, glaring at each and every male in the room for the last time. Then, one step away from the doorway, you heard it.

Your name. Your real name.

The one no one ever used.

“Good luck, you’ll need it”

The door closed behind in a loud thud, not allowing you enough time to properly react. Just once your face hit the fresh air, did the heaviness of the decision fall upon your body. What have you done? Who were those people and why did they refuse to introduce themselves?  

Doubts filled your head – were your employers suddenly against you? Were they suddenly hyperaware of your knowledge, or scared that you’ll turn to the other side, become their enemy? Was this actually a ploy made to get you out of the game? The thought made you gulp audibly; wondering if but knowing that it was too late to turn around and tear the contract paper into thousands of pieces.

There’s also no way ditching the mission came into discussion. With the way they acted, god only knew if each and every step of yours was watched on. Holy shit.

The walk home was a long one, not particularly because time passed by slow, but because you purposely chose the longer path. Eyes filling with tears, your reaction was one of pity. Reaching up to brush the watery substance away from the corner of your eyes, you looked at the shiny finger. This was the first time in a long while that something managed to bribe out the emotion of grief. And for the first time ever, it was for no one else but yourself.

Tiny rocks sounded under your shoes just quietly enough to not ruin the perfect sneak up. The sky was grey, thin but overlapping clouds blocking sun from coming your way. Luckily, it meant you could move with more freedom, not having to worry about unnecessary shadows and their power to ruin cover.

The first abandoned building you were heading towards was huge, with main walls almost completely ruined. Chunks of concrete, bricks and other unnecessary trash created stable cover that you’d usually be thankful for, yet now dreaded.  

This was the exact address you were given, but the trick was that it happened to be a whole wide field with two abandoned buildings. On top of that, the opponent’s identity was still unknown, therefore you had no knowledge of who to look for and where. For all you knew, they could already be in position and aiming right at your head. “It’s just a little game of hide and seek, with a twist”. Instinctively, you ducked behind the nearest tree, feeling the heart strengthen its beats. Carefully and in calculated pace, the advance towards the entrance was continued.

There was a huge hole in the ceiling of every floor. It reached all the way up to the destroyed rooftop, almost as if something heavy fell from above and demolished the concrete surface. With back pressed flush against a piece of wall that still stood strong, you took a deep breath and reached down for a favorite of weapons, your trusted knife.

Suddenly, there was a strange type of noise coming from an unknown direction, resonating throughout the whole building. In the midst of a less careful and more panicked moment, while trying to retrieve the blade, it sliced through the delicate flesh of your calf. A quietly yelp of pain escaped your lips, hand immediately stretching to press on the wound. The feeling of blood running down your leg was accompanied by burning pain, and you tried ignoring it while climbing up the stairs.

Thanks to the special soft soles of the boots, your steps weren’t heard over the hard ground. They also didn’t put much force on your calf, therefore the advance to the 1st and 2nd floor went by almost without a problem. Occasionally, due to a bad step, the wound would reopen, another flow of blood quick to rush out along with a thousand silent curses.

The doorways on both floors were as demolished as the rest of the building, preventing anyone from walking through and forcing you to move up to the 3rd. Dodging and crouching down at places where you’d be exposed to the outside, you all but crawled up.

The third floor seemed different; way less disintegrated than the rest. Once there, you looked around and through the now available doorway. The corridor was very long, filled with wooden planks that once resembled doors leading to empty rooms. On the other side, about fifty meters away, there was another stairway, much like the one you took just now.

Alas, despite the burn in your calf, there was suddenly that alarming feeling of being watched.

Immediately ducking behind cover, you gripped the knife tight and took a few deep but quick breaths, planning the next move. Someone was definitely in there, and the rapid heartbeat was making sure you were constantly aware of it.

The feeling gradually subdued the more time passed by. You looked around attentively, once again taking notice of the still gaping hole on the ceiling. There was no one watching you through it though, so the trigger must’ve been from either outside or down the hallway. Remembering the noise from earlier, you completely crossed out the possibility of them being outside.

Which of course, wasn’t in your favor at all.

Peeking out just so the top of the head showed, you tried bribing out shots or any kind of attack from the other – something that would indicate where they were located. Receiving nothing in return was slightly confusing, but it also offered a pinch of hope. Maybe they moved, which meant you had a chance to sneak up behind them, or maybe they’re just hiding, which meant it could all go down very fast.

With a hurt leg that was slowly growing numb, there wasn’t a lot of time you had left before retreat was necessary. And never once did that happen. Therefore, trying to protect pride and get this done just to never see those nasty men again, you tried winging it. Pressing the wound one last time, you whispered a prayer before taking off through the open doorway.

There was just enough cover to move around in semi-safety, back turned towards one of the walls. Your eyes perceptively scanned every corner, every pile of rocks which could offer any type of protection. Occasionally, ignoring the pain, you’d jump inside one of the rooms to your right, hoping to catch the other off guard. The knife in your hands was gripped tight, leather handle shining slightly due to a thin layer of sweat coating it.

Tension was as high as ever, air becoming thick to an almost suffocating degree. For the first time, you felt undoubtedly scared. Your mind was clouded with a thousand racing thoughts, all of which only intensified the sensation of panic. The more time passed, the more your eyes aimlessly wandered around empty spaces, growing more tired and unable to notice possibly important details.

The amount of blood you lost was probably in the red zone, moving around becoming more challenging with every step. Still, doing the best possible job was always a requirement, therefore you used last spurts of strength to enter the 2nd to last room in the long hallway.

Once again met with a different terrain, you immediately noticed a demolished doorway, connecting the room to the one right beside. Upon quickly deeming the current room safe, you crouched down, sneaking towards the linking point. As if sensing danger, you patiently waited a couple of moments, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. If not for the protective leather handle, the blade would’ve sliced through your hand due to the impossibly strong grip.

Someone on the other side coughed. A curse followed right after.  

Both moved rapidly, reaching out for the other through the doorway.

You were held at gunpoint, jaw feeling the pressure of a cold muzzle on it, while a strong hand grabbed your hair, pulling it back. Your own hands grabbed the other’s collar, tugging down while holding the thin, sharp blade against their most sensitive point, Adam’s apple.

Neither moved.

Blue watched Red with surprised eyes, irises playing inside the broad space of dark brown. Your gaze tried locking the man down, scanning those beautiful features while still avoiding his sharp eyes. Unexpectedly, a weak wave of emotion hit, bringing back a piece of what you wanted for a very long time. There was a slight urge to reach out and caringly caress his sharp cheeks, cup his jaw and kiss his lips.

But there was a gun pressed against your skin, and a knife against his.

And neither moved.

The war started. Horrid battles began and ripped your heart piece by piece. Everything was on the line and an indecisive mind was as dangerous as ever. The realization that this man, despite everything that happened, was the last person you wanted to harm, hurt the most. It was the quick moment of reminisce about the old times, when everything was just starting. He was the only one who gauged new, thrilling, pleasant emotions and made them feel like they’re exactly what you needed. And it was the truth.

But the weight of the weapon on your jaw reminded of the not-so-bright moments as well. A flashback of the day you were teasingly shot at sent shivers down your spine, feelings of pure anxiety and fear coming back in an instant. Rightfully so, they were strong and rivaled the positive ones, trying to outweigh them and take control over your next actions. The man was still someone who dared pull the trigger on you, dared taking that type of unpredictable risk.  

If he dared pull it again, you dared slit his flawless, soft skin. But embarrassingly enough, you’d never have enough strength to be the first one, no matter how impulse-driven. Harming him definitely was your last wish. The thought of it even being a possibility made your eyes water, tears welling up and falling like never before, straining your soft cheeks.

Juyeon’s heart ached as well. Sadly, it opposed two separate and strong thunders. The first one hit hard, touching the intimate topic of his feelings towards you. It wasn’t a secret that you’ve changed him as well. In a word of gloom, blood and violence, you made everything disappear and instead of war, brought peace to his mind. Most of the time, it was enough for Juyeon to know that you were there, and every worry would fade away. The mutual understanding was then something he grew accustomed to and happy for. The male didn’t feel like he didn’t deserve attention anymore.

But what hit even harder was the fact that Juyeon was aware of your current thought process, and the guilt once again ate him away, bite by bite.

Carefully, the grip on your hair was released, gloved hand reaching up, thumb wiping a falling tear. Rough material nearly scraped your skin, a frown appearing on the other’s face almost immediately. Juyeon bit down on the glove, taking it off before placing his hand back on your warm cheek. The act made your eyes water even more, lips trembling and throat constricting to stop loud whimpers from escaping.

Still, the weapons didn’t move.

“Juyeon” You suddenly whined, finally finding strength to say his name. Lightheadedness was slowly overtaking your whole body, vision blurring fast. The pain in your leg although still present was long forgotten. Every letter carried huge weight, every taken breath felt like the last and you wondered if taking that bullet hurt any less. Unconsciously, your hand began shaking, resulting in the thin blade moving against the man’s delicate skin. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but Juyeon visibly and audibly gulped under the metal.

“They... they set us up to kill each other, Juyeon” The realization hurt like a sudden kick to the gut. It was supposed to happen sooner or later. All suspicions you weren’t willing to think about came out to be true and the terror spread through your body in a strong wave. Everything made sense – why those men weren’t willing to introduce themselves, why refusal wasn't an option and why no proper explanation was given to you. They were aware that if you knew even one of those things, you wouldn’t have dared to show up in the first place.

Or would you? Would they be able to push just the right buttons and play with your mind as they were right now?

You were set to break apart.

Do it. Don’t do it. Do. Don’t. Past and present were clashing together, habits and new found emotions. For the first time in a while, you felt somewhat disgusted with your job. Yet, the wheels were turning, reminding that you’ve been doing this for years and now was no time to give up under the pressure. It was so, so easy to end this all, much like hundred times before. Swallow down the hard feeling and contractions of your heart, cut through like you’re used to. Emotions were just an accident, an error in the system of a machine.

All this time though, Juyeon’s hand remained on your cheek, and only now was it only noticeable that he wasn’t holding you in place. The muzzle of the gun wasn’t as strong on your jaw as it was before. Juyeon wasn’t going to actively fight or harm you either, that much was clear. This had to end somehow, and the male was about to use his last possible chance.

“Look at me” The voice he said it with was soft, but underlined with a certain type of authority. For whatever reason, as if under a spell, your eyelids opened, irises immediately locking on his.

And then it all crashed down.

All the doubts and hesitation were immediately gone. Your hand moved, putting pressure on the weapon for just a quick moment before letting go completely. Heavy blade fell onto the ground with a loud and high-pitched noise, one that echoed throughout the whole building. The invisible wall was no more.

At the same time, Juyeon released the gun, hefty metal hitting concrete with just as loud of a thud. When the pressure disappeared and the current situation processed properly, your body went numb. Legs giving out, you almost collapsed on the ground. Luckily, Juyeon managed to catch you just in time. The male lowered the smaller body onto the ground, holding it carefully.

Your head hung low; eyes wandering all around the room, but not focusing on one spot. This was the first mission you’ve ever failed and the fear of possible consequences was scary.

Juyeon’s hands enveloped your face, just holding it firmly. Neither had an obvious cheerful expression, but there was a lack of certain something that made both seem more at ease. He caressed the soft skin, examining your face that was blank of any emotion. It was the moment of complete calm.

Upon focusing on the man, you noticed a clear red line just underneath his Adam’s apple. Instinctively, you reached out, running a smooth finger over it and listening to Juyeon’s strained hiss. A new wave of tears welled up in your eyes, yet the other was quick to wipe it away.

“Can you listen to me?” He questioned, with a gaze that suddenly turned more serious, albeit none the less caring. The breathing rhythm was slow and deep, almost as if he was trying to calm down in the fastest way possible. With a slight nod, you replied, hoping to keep enough consciousness to listen until the end.

“Let’s escape this hell” You would’ve definitely reacted greatly to the proposition, if it weren’t for the lack of energy in your body. Instead, the reply was a simple, perplexed look, a result of not quite processing what was talked about.

“Escape, disappear, perish, they’ll never know. They’ll never find us because... because they’ll think we’re dead. Isn’t that what they wanted? To wipe us off the list?” The tone Juyeon used was a hopeful one, as if the man already had everything planned and was ready to go right this second. And maybe, just maybe, that was the case.

“We’ll move countries and get new identities – I have a couple of friends that could and will help us with that. We’ll start a new life away from... away from all of this, because we can’t stay” Gradually, his words became more rushed, too many thoughts and too little time to wrap them up. “We can’t go back. They’ll kill us themselves, you know that, right?”

Juyeon was right. In the planned scenario, one of you was supposed to die today, while the other would’ve been finished off upon reporting the case. You’ve thought about it many times, making up scenarios and trying to find a way to get out of them. No one has ever trained you in that field or shown any ways of dealing with it, and there was an exact, fucked-up reason for it.

“Or we could just...” His eyes wandered off to the two weapons lying on the ground, tears welling up fast. There’s no way that was the only other option, yet...

For a moment, you glanced at the objects as well, not out of interest, but pure disgust. Just a mere thought of what could happen made your stomach twirl and heart hurt. Turning around to look at the other, you noticed a teardrop that made it down his jaw. Wiping it off gently, you smiled, speaking in a low and calm whisper.

“No... no. Let’s... let’s go. Let’s disappear together, wherever that takes us, Juyeon” The mind finally accepted the sudden feelings that were no longer confined and hidden. The imaginary, but nonetheless strong, cage and restrictions were no more. You finally felt proper euphoria of freedom.

Speechless, but immensely happy, that’s what Juyeon was in that exact moment. His chest abruptly wasn’t enough space for the organ that beat at an incredible pace, with new-found strength. Tightening his hold, the male pulled you towards his chest, into a first, proper hug. Your hands sneaked around his body, trying to squeeze as hard as possible and relish the beautiful moment. In such an intimate position, it was possible to feel that exact excited heartbeat of the male.

After a long period of comfortable silence, you quietly spoke into his chest, “Please piggyback me... wherever... I don’t think I can walk”  

“Oh my god, you’re hurt?!” Juyeon noted in an alarming tone, eyes immediately scanning your body and finally noticing a streak of red liquid on the concrete underneath your leg. He loudly cursed at himself for not seeing it earlier, hand reaching down to press on the wound. Although not fresh, it still gushed out more blood, earning another hiss from you.

“Yeah, no shit mister... fuck be careful! I wouldn’t go all baby... and soft on you if I... I didn’t feel like fainting. You were lucky today” You bit back jokingly, trying to keep the light atmosphere that was slowly coming down its high. Juyeon’s head shook at that, a quiet ‘you’re not in position to speak like that’ passing through his barely parted lips. A pair of hands worked fast on tying a thin jacket around your calf to stop further bleeding.  

“How?” He asked, confused but curious at the same time.

“I’d rather not talk about it” Your head turned away from the other, irises locking onto one of many holes on the wall. The male chuckled at that, checking the knot before standing up with knees half bent. He helped you stand up and climb up on his back, strong arms instantly gripping the back of your thighs.

“Bet you hurt yourself, clumsy”

“Yeah, bet”  

With a loud, content sigh, your head lowered onto Juyeon’s back, eyes closing as you finally drifted off to sleep. There, on the closed, but broad battlefield, the two warriors accepted their faith. They made up their minds for a different future, something neither were sure how to approach, but were more than ready to experience together. A future that didn’t revolve around blood, murder and secrecy, one that would allow both to heal and live their lives breathing properly.

Quatervois, a heavy change no one expected. A decision made fast, but a result of long, aimless thought and experience. And some may say this was deemed to happen sooner or later, but was it? If things were just slightly different...  

Guess we would never know.

AN: well... here it is? truthfully speaking, i’m very satisfied with this work, and i love every piece of it, but it has been giving me so much stress oh my god... writing has taken me so much time because i tried so hard to make it perfect and i really hope reading almost 22k of this was worth it, and that you’ve enjoyed it. at some parts, i’ve maybe focused on the main female character too much, but i think that to understand her character, it’s important to have an in-depth point of view. i’d really appreciate it (to the moon and back) if you guys could leave feedback for this one. thank you so so so much for reading, have a good day <3

[jj-ktae]

·41/45· Intoxicated - Prompt Game -

Title : Intoxicated Pairing : Park Jinyoung x Fem!reader Genre : Angst, Fluff, romance Words : 2060 Summary : Breaking up with Jinyoung was already complicated, yet he came, drunk and desperate, at 4 in the morning. Prompts : N° 41 : “Do you remember our first kiss?” N° 45 : “I don’t want you to stop.”

Prompt Game - Masterlist - 

Intoxicated

Your sofa is not comfortable. You never noticed how hard it feels against your back as you try to find a better position while watching questionable videos at 4 in the morning. 

It doesn’t matter, rest is for people who can turn shut their brain off. You can’t. It’s been a month. A whole thirty-one days of going back to a life made of instant noodles and drooling on your favourite fluffy pillow. 

Today is Friday and after numerous rejections, your friends gave up and stopped forcing you to join them into some fancy bar. It doesn’t feel right to be partying like this, especially when you feel like rolling yourself into your blanket like a burrito. 

Which is already done. 

It’s not like you’re depressed; you’re the one who broke up with your boyfriend because of event you were not sure you could get out of. 

Jinyoung is a man of high standards. He was raised in a wealthy family where everyone has their own role and future traced from the crib. He followed his parents’ choices without rebelling once. 

Except one time, two months ago. 

You had been dating for almost a year when his parents found him a spouse. She was the daughter of a man everyone wanted on their side and his family couldn’t say no when the promise of a profitable alliance appeared in their household. 

Only then you saw how unflappable Jinyoung could be. He would reject day after day, not bothered when his parents used the word disown as a weapon. Jinyoung didn’t even flinch and was ready to pack and move in with you. 

Poor boy would hate spending all his evenings on your sofa.

It became too big for you to handle. There was nothing you could do except break up with him so before he could run away from his luxury you left, lying about not loving him, using the word mistake like it meant nothing. 

Jinyoung had told you though. Trust me, he always said.

There was nothing to trust. Jinyoung would have never been able to find another job if these two companies were to team against him. It is true that he is a simple man, but you couldn’t live with the idea of being what destroyed his life. 

So you walked away, isolating yourself and ruining your health at work. It’s been a month and you feel as empty, the feeling of being the one responsible for your own misery distilling hate into your whole existence. 

There is no turning back now. Jinyoung must get married and become what he is destined to be.

You’re clicking on this documentary about salmon trout and their reproduction cycle when heavy knocking on your door startles you. 

Your neighbours are probably going to complain about non-existent noises because that’s what they do.

You check your pyjamas - shrugging when you notice a stain a ketchup from your precious fries session. 

But it’s not the old neighbour you find behind the door. 

“You opened the door…” Jinyoung’s smug smile makes you take a step back. He is leaning against the doorway, head restless. “I thought you wouldn’t…”

“What are you doing here? Why are you drunk?” You inquire before checking the hall. 

Jinyoung laughs, his head raising in evident distress. “I am not drunk! Come on!” His voice dies when you pull on his arm to force him inside. 

Damn him for showing up completely drunk. 

“Oh so I can come in” Jinyoung mumbles, letting his plastic bag fall on the floor with a loud thud before attempting to untie his shoes. 

“It’s just until you sober up.” You scold, blaming your soft side for giving in so quickly. You didn’t have a choice; your building is filled with people who abuse the police’s phone number daily.

Jinyoung snorts, grabbing his bag again and aiming for your sofa where he lets himself fall. “I brought wine. You love wine.” His voice becomes sad as unwraps the bottle.

You sigh, reaching his side and taking the bottle. “Thank you. Now rest and leave when you feel better. You know where everything is.”

It’s too much work. Dealing with a drunk Jinyoung is usually funny; he becomes a mess of clumsy and cute and oh god he becomes so luscious as soon as music starts.

“I didn’t come all the way here to sleep on a sofa!” He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why did you come then?” You turn around to put the bottle on the dining table before gasping. “Holy shit Jinyoung, this is a Domaine de la Romanée Conti! Take it with you, it’s expensive!”

Jinyoung snickers, his lazy hand brushing your words off. “Do I look like I care about this…” 

“Listen,” You walk back to the sofa, stopping when Jinyoung leans over his knees to bury his head into his hands. “I’ll put the bottle back into the bag. Rest for now and you can leave whenever you want. “

“How is it so easy for you?” His question breaks you out of your monologue. “How is it so easy to speak like this?”

“Jinyoung, I don’t think it’s a good-”

“A good idea?” He asks, raising his head and revealing moist eyes. “All of this was a very bad idea, right? Because it was a mistake?” His head seems clearer suddenly. “Do you even think I believed you for one second?” 

You raise a hand and shake your head. “No Jinyoung. You won’t make me say what you want to hear. You’re drunk, stop this.”

“Of course I am drunk!” He speaks louder, annoyance tainting his vocal cords. “I am wasted because it’s all I can do! Breaking news: not everyone is as heartless as you.”

It stings. No matter how this is what you wanted, hearing his pain can only make you regret. 

“It’s better this way. Look around you! How would you have lived? Jobless? Disowned?” He doesn’t understand. Life is not a soap opera; love is not always the answer to everything.

“I told you to trust me! I told you I would sort this out! You didn’t listen, you freaked out and left, even though I told you to stay with me, no matter how I begged! How cruel is that?” Jinyoung gets up, ignoring his spinning head and contracting stomach. Rage is blurring his vision and the memories haunting.

You don’t know what to answer. As much as you want to think you are right, it is cruel. Jinyoung didn’t go against his parents to get dumped. 

“I don’t know what to say...all I did was for your happiness. You can’t risk everything for me.” You explain, eyes now equally watery. 

Jinyoung nods, eyes closing painfully. He goes to the windows; the place he loves the most in your whole flat. “Do you remember our first kiss?” he asks, not even turning around. “It was right here.”

You smile, that night still printed into your brain. Jinyoung confessed a day after you both met. 

His smile was wide and hopeful that day; nothing seemed to stop him as he explained his attraction to you and how he loved the way you dismissed him when he showed up at your desk and explained he had to see your boss for and important matter. 

He had left his number on his way back with a wink while your boss yelled at you for not letting the son of an important business man see him. 

Stupid, you thought, as you still dialled his number to complain. 

He asked you out and a day later you were kissing, his hands on your hips and yours in his hair. 

Now he looks pitiful, abandoned and disturbed. 

“I remember.”

He finally turns around, his last attempt at making you come back to him hanging on his lips. 

“I made it clear that no one else but you are going to be in my heart.” He raises said hand, a single tear falling on his cheeks and he must be pretty drunk to openly cry like that in front of you. “Did you really think I was going to get married to someone else but you? This is ridiculous, you don’t marry people you don’t love.” he walks away, pacing weirdly and even bumping into your lamp. 

“What have you been telling your parents?” Jinyoung is stubborn, you don’t know why but he cannot let things go. “What are you going to do if they ever-”

“If they can’t understand something as simple as their only son’s well-being, there is nothing I can do.” Jinyoung concludes, looking hurt both because of your rejection and his parents’ inability to let him do what he wants. “I will not stay around people who want me miserable, but I can stick to those who make me feel loved and understood.”

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad to get married to a rich and pretty girl.”

Jinyoung stops walking, looking dumbfounded. “Do you even hear yourself? It can’t be that bad?” 

“I mean, your career is your future. Your family is important, too! What is so special about me that you’re willing to risk everything even after I broke up with you?!” You yell, hating both yourself and him for being in such a situation. 

“I don’t know, you tell me. Why are you wearing stained pyjamas on a Friday night while watching stupid videos? Why aren’t you enjoying your single life as you should?” Jinyoung hits jackpot as easy as he used to. He knows you; you’re not the type of person who watches questionable videos, anyways.

“I was tired.” Is all you say, your drained face giving away your current mind-set.

“Please,” Jinyoung rubs his forehead, completely done with your behaviour. “You’re not happy. You think you made the right decision but you didn’t. You’re fooling yourself and trying to be an altruist by ‘saving my life’ yet you’re stomping on me again and again. So what if I have to work shitty jobs and sleep here? Are you scared that you might not take advantage of my bank account? Is me being poor so bad that you want me out of your life?” 

It triggers you, it triggers you so much that you start crying. “Stop!” You shake your head, your heart clenching. “I’m warning you, never imply, ever again, that I was after your money.” you want to sound threatening but you must look ridiculous. “Do you think it’s easy for me? Do you think I can spit venom and feel nothing? I didn’t want you to suffer because of me, I want you to be happy and live the life you should be living. I’m literally forcing myself to stop loving you, Jinyoung.”

“You don’t understand, I don’t want you to stop.” Jinyoung breathes, his feet aiming for your trembling figure. His tone softens when he sees you crying. He doesn’t think he will ever be able to handle such a view. “What I’m trying to say is that no matter the amount of wealth and the number of connections, you make me happy and you’re the life I should be living. If you take that away from me, I’m done for.”

You sob harder, his words buzzing and more comforting than ever. 

He brushes your arm silently, his head dipping to take a good look at your bloodshot eyes. “Can you please stop trying to take all the decisions and believe me? It’s been a month and now I need you to come back to me.”

He doesn’t give you a choice; but you don’t need to ponder. 

“Are you really not going to regret this?” You try one last time, your eyes searching for his but his drunk face shows no concern, no sign of doubt, no hint of hesitation. 

“All I’m regretting is that I didn’t come sooner.” He concludes, his arms spreading to signal he needs a hug.

You carefully envelop him, his scent hinting he has been drinking a lot of liquor. “Promise me you’ll try to convince your parents some more.”

You hear him chuckle, his arms rubbing your back. “I promise.”

“I actually missed you a lot.”

Jinyoung can only inhale, his arms tightening and head finding shelter in the crook of your neck. 

“Welcome back, baby.”

[thestarwrites]

All Right, All Might Ch. 10!

After all of the counseling with class 1-A, All Might and Patho finally get to go on their first date, but hero work always just has to get in the way, doesn't it?

Word Count: 4,308

Rating: PG

———————————— CHAPTER TEN: A NIGHT JUST FOR US: part 1

Keri walked into her office as Izuku was leaving and she smiled, “Have a good rest of the day, Izuku — why is my couch overturned!?” 

Toshinori bulked up momentarily to right it, “S-sorry! Look no harm done! Say bye to Keri now, Midoriya!” He blushed and deflated, taking off his suit jacket and throwing it over the arm of the sofa. 

Izuku blushed and then smiled, “See you soon Miss Chairo! Have a great day!” The boy always tried so hard not to seem like he was worried. Not only worried about the upcoming Sports Festival, but All Might was his mentor as well as his favorite hero, he cared about him, so of course he was worried about him too. She could tell because she shared the same worries. Though, she hadn’t really counseled him as of yet, leaving it to All Might for now. 

Shutting the door and locking it she let out a deep sigh, closing her eyes, she finally let herself realize how tired she was, how drained. It felt almost as bad as the blowback of long crowd control. Before she realized it, she was being picked up and her eyes opened, “Toshi-!” 

“Relax,” The lithe form of Toshinori was still strong enough to pick her up, “You need to let me be the one to take care of you for once.” 

“Y-you shouldn’t be straining yourself! I’m - I’m much too heavy!” Her cheeks burned red and her forehead glowed. She was mortified to have her boyfriend pick her up to see how much she weighed. She was so self conscious about her body, it was why she dressed in baggy UA sweatshirts. Not that she’d ever let him know that about her.

“Nonsense. You barely weigh anything.” He smiled at her- trying not to let her know he could feel her shame. She was beautiful- she had nothing to be ashamed of.

“That’s not true Toshinori- I know I’m big okay? You don’t have to pretend I’m not…”

“Stop right there.” He said as he sat on the sofa, her in his lap. She tried to squirm to get off of him but he held her firm, “I’m not pretending anything. You’re no stick figure. But I think you’re perfect. I adore every curve and every inch of you. You’re beautiful in every way.”

She was too tired to stop the tears from falling as she covered her face, it burned with embarrassment. Her body glowed and Toshinori could feel every negative feeling she felt thinking about her own body. It was something she hadn’t thought about in a long while, a man really seeing her. 

Toshinori hugged her closer, gingerly wiping tears from her chin, “Oh, Keri... you carry the same burden on your shoulders as I do about my body... don’t you?” She only whimpered in response and he continued, “You always tell me you love the way I look- well I love the way you look. I promise. And I’m not made of glass, you can sit on my lap, I’m not completely weak I can still hold you... I need you to trust me- you trust me don’t you, sunflower?”

Keri let her hands slip down a little so he could see her watery blue eyes, “Y-yeah, of course I do.” 

“Then believe me when I tell you that you are the most beautiful woman in the world. No one could ever outshine you.” He gingerly took her hands from her face, “Here, sit on the sofa and I’ll get a cool cloth to pat your face and some Kleenex and water. And then you and I will settle in for a nice nap.”

She moved to the other cushion and watched as All Might busied himself with taking care of her, not that he hadn’t ever before but - this was so much more intimate, and he told her her body was perfect as it was. She didn’t really believe him but- maybe in time she could. Coming back he sat beside her and whispered, “Eyes closed, sunflower.” 

“Sunflower, hm?” She whispered softly. Doing as she was told, the older man gingerly patted her face with the damp, cool cloth, ridding it of any residual tears. He smiled, tucking the long half of her hair back as he continued his ministrations.

Once the cloth was set aside, he pressed tender kisses to her forehead, nose and both cheeks, “There now, all better.” 

Looking up at him, she cupped just cheeks and pressed a soft kiss onto his lips, “My hero…” 

His heart swelled to hear her say that to him in this form, when he was just being a caretaker. He felt a surge of pride as he leaned back in for another kiss, holding his large hand on the back of her neck. Slowly Toshinori lay back on the couch, pulling his girlfriend on top of him as they made out, he had never been so intimate with a woman. Gingerly he licked his tongue over her lip, asking silently for entrance, and she of course complied. The kisses were slow, needy, full of emotion. Pulling back from the kiss he grinned down at her, “You’re so lovely…” 

Giggling gently she nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck, letting out a sigh, “You’re so wonderful, Toshi… I don’t know how I managed to get you into my life, but I never want to let you go. You’re… everything to me.” 

He smiled, gently raking his fingers in her hair, “Let me take you out tonight, on that date?” 

She looked up at him, “Yeah?”

He nodded again, “No hero work today. Just us. Just a night for you and me.” 

“You and me,” she sighed dreamily. She so badly wished to say she loved him - but she couldn’t, not yet, “I’d love nothing more.”

“Excellent. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

Giggling she nodded, “Okay honey.” 

He sat up, gingerly urging her to do so as well, and he reached for the large suit jacket now on the floor. After a moment he leaned back down, spreading the jacket over her back, “Here we are- make sure you’re nice and cozy.” 

She was drowning in the smell of his cologne and she let out a soft contented sigh, “Oh Toshi.” 

Kissing the top of her head he smiled, “Go to sleep now, we both could use some rest.” 

Nodding she leaned up and kissed the side of his jaw, “Sweet dreams, my Small Might.” Yawning she tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder and sighed. 

His cheeks turned bright red and he swallowed thickly, small might? He would ask later. 

 -----------------

The rest of the day passed by with little incident, Keri counseled the rest of class 1-A, ending with Enji Todoroki’s son. He was another boy that was adult enough too have a real conversation about the events at the USJ.

“How are you feeling Shoto?” 

He shrugged, “Fine. Just trying to turn my attention to staying vigilant and start strategizing about the sports festival. But to be frank I wish I could skip it.” 

“Why do you wish you could skip it?” 

Sighing he looked out the window. 

Hurt, anger, frustration, pride — all emotions bubbling under the surface of the teen before her and she tapped the table gently, “Because your father will be there?” He looked up, a little surprised, “I’ve only seen you fight and spar a few times Shoto, but there is one thing I have noticed; you don’t use your fire. You didn’t at the entry exam, the first day of school, or any time since.” 

“No. I won’t use it.” 

“Because of your father?” 

He grit his teeth, “He’s a monster and I won't use his quirk. You don’t understand.” 

“No, you’re right Shoto, I don’t understand. But what I do know is I have worked with your father on many occasions, he has never once spoken to me. So I can see at the surface level how cold he is.” 

The boy nodded, “He’s cold all right.” 

“I will never force you to talk about things you don’t wish to discuss, Shoto, but I will urge you to think about this; you can not separate the quirk from yourself. It is part of you, as much as you wish it wasn’t. You should try to strive to make it your own, to make it feel untarnished.” After a few moments of silence the woman smiled, “But you are sure to do well in the sports festival, Shoto, so just keep strategizing and working hard, hm?” 

He nodded, “I will, Miss Chairo.” 

“Okay, off you go then, I don’t want to keep you from getting on home.” 

Nodding again the quiet boy stood and picked up his backpack, leaving her office. Keri hummed softly as she watched the door close, thinking that he would probably be even tougher to crack than Katsuki. Katsuki at least came from a loving home, and from what she knew of Enji alone; there had to be abuse in that household. One of the Todoroki children had already died because of their father’s quirk. Maybe Shoto was afraid of that? She would have to talk to Toshinori about Enji to understand him more. They did go to school together.

--------

“Hi, baby,” The voice of All Might came through the door, his body big and bulky. 

Smiling she looked up, “Hi honey, done for the day?” 

Nodding he came to her and kissed her softly, “Come on, I’m gonna take you home and then I’ll be back later to pick you up for our date."

“Why don’t you just want to hang out at home and relax before we go out?” She laughed a little. 

“Well,” he started, blushing, “I want to rest and shower and get dressed… I just want it to be like, you know, a romantic first date. I mean I know we go out all the time but - this is the first time we get to go out as boyfriend and girlfriend.” 

Her heart melted as she moved forward to hug his waist, “You’re too sweet, Toshi. I understand, that will be perfectly acceptable. I’ll have to make sure I dress up too.” 

Cupping her cheek he smiled down at her and then remembered something, “Hey— earlier when you were falling asleep… you called me Small Might?” 

Blushing she bit her lip, “Is that… bad? Did…. You not like that? I hope I didn’t make you feel bad.” 

“N-no no… it was just… interesting.” 

Looking down she blushed, “Well… you’re still All Might no matter what form you’re in you know? You’re still my hero… but… when you’re in your small form… I dunno I refer to you in my head as my Small Might… my personal hero.” 

He couldn’t help the sincere smile that spread over his face, “Keri… that’s adorable. I love it. For you, I will always be your Small Might.” Leaning over he kissed her forehead, “Just… don’t tell anyone else that name okay? I don’t want to be Small Might on TV.”

“Deal,” she giggled. 

Throwing his arm around her shoulders he grinned and boomed in his All Might voice, “COME ALONG LITTLE LADY, LET ME PERSONALLY ENSURE YOU GET HOME SAFELY.” 

Laughing she leaned into him, “Toshi!” 

“WHAT’S THE MATTER? EMBARRASSED TO BE WITH YOUR FAVORITE HERO? UNDERSTANDABLE MISS - BUT LET ME ASSURE YOU I AM JUST AN ORDINARY MAN!” She started laughing harder as he continued, “WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING! DO I HAVE SOMETHING IN MY TEETH?” 

“Toshinori you’re such a goon!” She held onto him as she laughed. 

 He stopped once they were outside and he scooped her up into his arms, “There’s something I want to show you.” 

“Wh-what do you mean?” He took off into the air and Keri screamed softly as she held onto him, in all their months and months of being friends, this had never occurred before, “T-TOSHINORI!!!” 

He laughed, “Relax, sunflower! I’ve got you.” 

“Y-You’re wasting hero time!” She blushed and gripped the front of his suit. 

He laughed softly and landed on top of a tall building, pulling her close and kissing her. The breeze moved his bunny-ear style hair to and fro, “I wanted to show you how I have been seeing the city all these years… I want to show you how it feels to float through the air… while I still can show you.” 

She looked up at him, and the realization finally hit her. Even though she always scolded him about using his hero time - she never really considered it in her head as the reality. That her hero, All Might - Japan’s number one, the man she’d admired for most of her life - wouldn’t be a hero any more one day, and most likely one day very soon, “Toshi…” 

He motioned, “Look look how beautiful the city is… up here, just you and me.” 

Keri sniffled and wiped tears from her eyes as she smiled and whispered, “Knowing you is a gift. The most beautiful gift I’ve ever gotten.”

He took off in the air once more as she giggled and held on, and he headed toward her apartment building, in the air he quickly stole kisses as the girl laughed and squirmed a bit in his arms. They were free in this moment. Just a man and a woman. 

Landing on the roof of her apartment building to avoid being seen. He smiled and kissed her softly, “How did you like that?” 

“That was incredible!” She giggled, trembling softly. 

He laughed and pulled off his black suit jacket, wrapping it around her with a small smile, “Here we are, miss. Now, why don’t you get inside, you’re safe now. Because I am here!” He beamed, feeling happy about his little heroic act. It was entertaining, and it was also sweet to see the look on her face. 

Hugging the large jacket around herself she smiled, cheeks red, “Sometimes… I really can’t believe you’re in my life, All Might. You… you’re one of the people who have meant the most to me in my entire life. You helped me to never give up.” 

All Might smiled and cupped her cheek, “Keri, you have made my life so much fuller. I have been so alone in my life, and… you mean the most to me, you know.”

She leaned into him and sighed, “You’re wonderful Toshinori.” 

He smiled and kissed her gently, “I’ll see you later, hm?”

“I can’t wait,” she beamed, going to remove his blazer from her shoulders. 

He winked, “Keep the jacket.” And with that he took off into the sky with his booming laugh. 

Keri laughed and sighed, turning to go into her apartment building to go down the stairs and head to her apartment to prepare for their date.

She showered, fixed her hair, put on light makeup and fussed about what she felt comfortable in for about an hour before she just pulled on some leggings and a fuzzy sweater. Moving into the living room she put his suit jacket over her, snuggling into her sofa to watch some TV, there was a while to wait before he came to pick her up. 

 ----------

Keri had apparently fallen asleep at some point because she was being woken by a loud knock on her door and a worried baritone voice calling out, “Keri?” 

Pushing her hair out of herr face she blinked, calling out, “Sorry! I’ll be right there!” She got up, the suit jacket sitting on the sofa as she gingerly rubbed her eyes, then smoothing down her sweater. 

Taking a deep breath she put her hand on the doorknob, whispering softly, “It’s Toshi. Relax.”

“YOUR DATE HAS ARRIVED!” All Might called out as Keri opened the door. She blinked a few times and this made the pro start to sweat, “Keri..? You... do remember I asked you on a date... right? I mean — we — just, I just saw you this afternoon… Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“No... Toshinori Yagi asked me on a date. You’re All Might. And you also shouldn’t waste hero time on me.”

He frowned and slowly deflated, “I thought- since it was a date, I would show off.” 

Keri smiled and stepped closer, gently kissing his cheek, “This is the man I said yes to.”

Toshinori blushed feverishly, “You’re... the only woman I think who would say yes to me like this.” 

“More for me then,” she smirked, teasing. Her long hair hang on one side in a braid. 

He smiled and held out his hand for her, “I was thinking we could go to a fancier restaurant tonight- maybe somewhere there’s dancing?” 

“That sounds amazing, Toshi,” she beamed and took his hand, closing her door behind her.

“Keri- you look so beautiful.” 

Her cheeks flushed bright red, “Thank you, you look handsome as always.”

He let out a chuckle, “I look like a skeleton, as always.” 

She put her hands on her hips, taking her hand from his grip, “Toshi! Honestly. First of all, if we go out and you’re in your hero form, you’re wasting your energy. Number two, we’ll be mobbed by fans, and number three, you are not skin and bones you’re all muscles - you’re just lean. And you look EXTRA lean because you’re so damn tall.” 

“Uuuuuggghhh I hate lectures,” he smirked down at her. 

She punched his arm, “You are SO annoying!” 

“But what if people see you with me? They know you’re with All Might?” 

Keri blinked, “Who saw us? Just the kids at school, we’re going out dancing. Besides, we started dating today. We’re trying, we don’t have to declare anything, we don’t have to force anything. It’s just us, remember?” 

Toshinori reached out and took her hand again, “Right. Just us. You and me.” He grinned his million dollar smile and kissed her cheek. 

“Right,” she smiled and stroked his cheek gently, “I’m the luckiest girl in the world right now, so, I’m ready when you are!” 

He leaned in to kiss her lips gently and sighed, his hand sliding down to take hers, “I’ll call a car.”

“Yes, dear.” 

  Once at the venue, they were seated in a more private dining area. Keri looked around, seemingly in wonder at every single thing around her. All Might smiled tenderly as he watched her, she was so full of life, so free. He let out a sigh, “You’re so cute right now.” 

Turning her head to look back at the older man she blushed and smiled, “I- I’ve never been in a place like this before Toshi… it’s so fancy.” 

“Do you not like it?”

She shook her head, “It’s not that! Its beautiful! I just don’t want you to think you have to take me places like this all the time cause we’re dating. Its not the money, its just… not as us as the corner ramen shops we go to all the time,” she giggled and slid closer to him in their large booth, so he could snake his arm around her shoulders, “But I’m with you, and we’re in this beautiful place, and I’m so happy.” 

He smiled and kissed the crown of her head, “Of course not all the time, sunflower, but this is a special occasion.” 

“Yes… and what a special day. I got to kiss you, I got to hold hands with you… we took a nap and you flew me above the city… you’re spoiling me.” 

Laughing gently he shook his head, “Oh no, you don’t even know the meaning of the word yet. This is basic dating stuff, Ree. But trust me,” he dipped his head down to whisper in her ear, “I will spoil you rotten.”

She gently shivered at the thick low baritone voice in her ear and she leaned into him, squeezing his thigh gently, “Toshi…”

A voice cleared, “And have we decided what we will be eating tonight?” 

Blushing the two of them separated a little and Toshinori went ahead and ordered for them both, mostly food they could share, as he knew he wouldn’t be eating much as always. The waiter nodded and went off, “Sorry, baby,” he laughed, “You’re right it is a little uptight in here, huh?” 

She laughed and leaned into him, “I feel like our students getting caught making out in an empty classroom.” 

He laughed harder and nodded, “You’re right, we definitely need to go somewhere more our speed for desert, hm?” Eagerly she nodded as music struck up again - some more glamorous couples heading to the dance floor, looking posh. Toshinori watched as her eyes lit up, “Do you know how to waltz?” 

“Of course I do, I used to be in the ballroom dancing club in high school, do you?” 

He smiled, “I know enough,” he stood and held out his hand, “Miss Keri Chairo, would you do me the pleasure of this dance?” 

Holding her hand to her chest she mock-gasped, “Why Mister Yagi! I thought you would never ask!” 

Laughing he pulled her up gently, “Please for god’s sake never call me that again, I don’t need to make this body feel any older.”

She stuck out her tongue and walked hand in hand with him to the floor, blushing as he took the familiar stance and began to glide her across the polished wood. Keri looked at him with amazement, “Toshi - you’re an excellent dancer!” 

“Don’t sound so surprised!” He laughed and leaned in to pull her closer by the lower back, resting his cheek against her head, “I am a multi-faceted individual.”

Keri sighed and smiled, leaning in to kiss his jaw, “Oh, I know you are,” she purred into his ear, “You are… incredible, in every facet.” He led her around the dance floor with ease as the band played another waltz. Moving he dipped her with a smile, Keri giggling, staring into his eyes, “Oh Toshinori.” 

He smirked and pulled her up, looking at the table briefly, “Oh- it seems our food has arrived- shall we, my darling?” Nodding she pulled from him and went back toward their table, hand in hand, “Keri, you’re a wonderful dancer, by the way.” 

“Well I did have a terrific lead,” she smiled warmly. 

 --------------

 After dinner they walked through the streets of the city, watching the bustling life around them, families and couples, groups of friends and coworkers. Keri looked up to All Might as he watched the passers by with a smile. She smiled wider, “You love them all, don’t you?” 

He snapped to her, out of her trance, “Huh?” 

“People. You love people.” 

Blushing he bit his lip, “I mean, yeah, I suppose I do.”

Hugging his arm she smiled, “You wouldn’t have given them everything if you didn’t.” 

He moved his other hand to rest over hers on his arm, “You don’t miss anything, Ree.”

“Well, that’s my job, isn't it? As a therapist, and also as your girlfriend?” She chuckled, “You also have to remember that you have been my hero all my life. I have noticed things about you while watching you speak and act.” 

“Oh? Enlighten me, dearest.” Laughing gently she moved to get them some ice cream from a street vendor first, handing him a small cone of chocolate ice cream, getting one for herself, “Ooh, I get ice cream today?” 

Smiling she nodded, “Its a special occasion.” 

“So, go on then, Sunflower, what have you noticed about me?” 

Pulling her arm around his once more, they continued their stroll, “You are very often uncomfortable in your interviews. You were less uncomfortable back in the day, but then again, you didn’t interview much when you came home. But as you entered your bronze age, and more magazines covered you - the more you sank into your persona.” 

“You could tell that…?” 

Smiling she nodded, “You didn’t used to do the laugh like you started doing it. It used to be genuine.” 

His face fell, “You… don’t think its genuine?” 

“It is sometimes,” she ran her thumb over his small bicep, “But a lot of the time it's forced, especially now. Not at school - I mean with reporters. With the kids, you’re much more yourself. I love seeing that side of you, you’d make a great father, I think.” 

A smile tugged at his lips and he was about to respond, when suddenly they heard it from the alley beside them — “BLOOD…. BLOOD…. NEED TO EAT…. NEED TO…. SO MANY PEOPLE…. SO MUCH FLESH.” 

“Toshi…” She trembled softly, “I can feel him, he’s… hungry,” she looked up, “You’re gonna need to break your hero work rule.” 

Nodding he pulled her to the side, into another alley where no one could see, “Ree. Go into the first shop you can, call the police.” Slowly he bulked up into his hero form and looked back at her, “Go.” 

 She nodded and started to run down the road as the villain burst through the crowded street, people screaming as his - metal teeth - ripped through carts, awnings, goods, a few people. Panic started to break out. Keri stopped running. She turned and grabbed the arm of a teenage boy, “Call the police - go into that shop, stay there.” People began to scream and run, tripping and stumbling over each other in the crowd, “PLEASE! EVERYONE REMAIN CALM!” 

Keri’s body began to glow, she extended her hands toward the people on the street as pink waves of calming energy was sent out of her, “HELP IS ON THE WAY. STAY CALM, GO INTO THE NEAREST ALLEY OR STORE!” 

 “DETROIT SMASH!!!!” The villain was met with an uppercut to the jaw, “FEAR NOT CITIZENS! FOR I AM HERE!” 

[obxparadise]

Rebel Love Song

JJ Maybank x Female Reader 

Word count: 3,836

~JJ’s had enough of his abusive father and life on the Cut, so he tries to convince you to run away with him~

Song: Rebel Love Song by Black Veil Brides 

A/N: Leave a comment please :) 

*GIF is not mine, but found on Google. Creds to the owner!*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I cannot hide what’s on my mind

I feel it burning deep inside

A passion crime to take what’s mine

Let us start living for today

“You are a worthless piece of shit.”

“Shut up!”

“Your mama knew!”

“Shut up!”

JJ’s fist strikes his bedroom door, although he wishes it were his father’s face. It probably wouldn’t be as painful, and he’d feel good about it. But his dad would retaliate like he always did, and JJ’s face couldn’t handle another black eye or split lip. Luke had already done a number on his face twenty minutes prior.

Luke turns up the volume of whatever rock song is playing throughout the house, and JJ clutches the sides of his head, digging his palms into his temples, the thoughts in his head drowning out the song. What the hell was he listening to anyway? Judas Priest? Black Sabbath? He had no fucking clue.

He should be used to it all by now. The loud music. The constant drinking. The verbal violence. The physical abuse. The mental manipulation. It’s been going on for years. And there’s no way to stop it.

The cut on JJ’s lip burns as a salty tear mixes with the dried blood. He drags his fingers across the bottom of his lip, wincing. Thirty grand in restitution for a boat he didn’t even sink. He should’ve seen the punch coming, anticipated it as soon as he slid in the passenger’s seat of the beat up pick up truck. But it happened so fast, over and over, until Luke’s knuckles were painted red with blood.

He doesn’t regret taking the blame, though. Even if he now has to scramble to come up with thirty thousand dollars, JJ’s glad that he did the right thing for once in his life. Pope was a good kid, had too much to lose. But JJ? He had nothing.

The music dies down in the living room and JJ peers toward the door, heart hammering against his chest as he waits for Luke to bust into his room. His fists are balled by his sides, ready to attack if necessary, but the door never opens.

JJ takes it upon himself to crack open the door, just enough for him to peer out into the living room and see Luke passed out on the sofa. Empty beer bottles are scattered along the coffee table and a pill bottle is just barely sitting in Luke’s hand that dangles off the couch. Just another typical Tuesday in the Maybank household.

It’s times like these JJ wishes he wasn’t an only child. Although he’s glad no one else is subjected to Luke’s abuse, the house gets lonely. Talking to his father is impossible. His mother is nowhere to be found, and he resents her for leaving him to live with a monster, to fend for his life.

He could always talk to his friends, though.

Ah, scratch that. They’re all busy tending to their own lives.

Pope’s in and out of scholarship interviews.

Kiara’s working overtime at the Wreck.

John B is glued to Sarah Cameron’s hip.

But there’s one more person left. One person that would always make time for him. One person he could confide in no matter the circumstances.

JJ retrieves his phone from the back pocket of his shorts, typing out a quick message.

Can you meet me at the dock?

He smiles as your name pops up on the screen, promising to meet him in ten minutes.

~

You watch from afar as JJ stands at the edge of the dock throwing rocks into the bay. The sun has begun to set, the sky now painted a light orange and pink, and there’s a slight chill in the air thanks to the open water. Tugging the sleeves of your hoodie down to cover your hands, you shuffle quietly along the wooden boards.

JJ’s body instantly relaxes when your arms circle his middle, forehead resting against his back. The cologne on his body mixed with his natural scent is what keeps you still against him until he turns around to hold you. He needs this hug. You can just tell.

“I owe thirty grand for sinking Topper’s boat.” His voice is defeated, arms limp around your body.

Wherever trouble was, JJ found it. He was always getting into scuffles with the teenagers on the other side of the island, parents turned their noses down at him, and the cops had no problem blaming JJ for crimes he didn’t commit. The boy was an easy target.

You shake your head, refusing to believe his story, but asking the question anyway. “Why’d you do it?”

JJ pulls away, stuffing his hands in his pockets, eyes downcast on the dock. He doesn’t want to tell you the truth, but you have a guess as to who he’s protecting. “Just sick of everyone treating us differently because we live on the poor side of the island. Money isn’t everything, but it’s all these people on Figure Eight know.”

He’s not wrong. The rich kids on Figure Eight can’t separate fantasy from reality. They’ve never known struggle. They’ve always had designer clothes, food on the table, a roof over their heads, plus the perks. Motorcycles. Boats. Cars. Status. Friends. Opportunities. So much more than the average person could afford, or wish for.

And you were one of them.

It’s a wonder how you and JJ became friends. You knew of his hatred for rich kids before you’d even met him. But JJ saw something in you. You weren’t like the rest of them. You had a pure heart, kind soul. Being rich wasn’t a personality trait for you.

“I just,” Dragging a hand through his hair, JJ gazes at you sadly. His frown tugs at your heart. “I just want to get away, you know? I can’t hide it, but I’ve had thoughts about leaving the Cut, the OBX in general.”

Now that’s something you never would of thought would come out of JJ’s mouth. He lived and breathed the Outerbanks. He didn’t know anything else.

“Where would you go?”

He takes a seat on the end of the dock, feet dangling just above the water. You join him, sitting close, head on his shoulder, toes skimming the cool water.  “Paris. England. The Yucatan,” JJ chuckles, nudging you. “That’s long term.”

“What about now?”

JJ exhales, thinking hard. “Maybe Florida. Or Texas. California, possibly. I want to go somewhere warm, like OBX, with a beach and some palm trees,” JJ looks down at the top of your head, resting his cheek on your hair. Your presence calms him. “And I’d take you with me.”

He knocks the breath out of you. You were never one to plan for the future, but the future is all JJ can think about it. And he sees you in his future, wherever he decides to be. How could you possibly tell him that the life that was destined for you would always be in the Outerbanks, breaking his heart in the process?

“Don’t you want to start living? The way we want to?” JJ asks softly, fingertips grazing your leg. Goosebumps rise on your skin at his intimate touch.

“I already am,” you say, considering his words. “My life is here, JJ. I can’t leave it behind.”

“No, it’s not,” JJ retorts instantaneously, voice unwavering. “This life you’re living? It’s not yours. It’s your parents’.”

Bringing your knees to your chin, you reposition yourself to look at JJ, whose staring out at the bay, blue eyes scanning the water, tuffs of blonde hair dancing in the breeze. It’s the first time that night you really took notice of his face. Dried blood dots the corner of his mouth, and a purple bruise rings around his eye. There’s a tick in his jaw and his fingers drum quickly on his leg. He’s tense. “How so?”

He’s never been anything other than blunt. He hides nothing, letting you know how he thinks, what he feels. “Because you don’t stand up to them. They drag you to yacht parties on the weekend because you’ve never told them who your real friends are. They think Susie Milligan and Delia Pratton are your best friends, except they have no idea that you can’t stand them and would rather be surfing with Kie and John B. They make you stay in and study your dad’s old college textbooks, convinced you’re going to be the world’s greatest attorney, but you complain to Pope that the material is dry and you’ll never be happy working as a prosecutor.” Pulling a cigarette from his pocket and then lighting it, JJ takes a drag, puffing out the smoke before turning to face you. “You let them dictate what should be your life. What is it that youwant to do? You never talk about the future, but one day it’ll be here, and it’s sooner than you think.”

His eyes are focused as he waits for you to consider his question. The truth is, you know what you want, but you’ve never said it aloud. No one ever cared to ask, except for now. Except for JJ.

“I want to be a marine biologist,” you’re confident in your answer, and it leads you to spill more. A weight lifts off your shoulders. “I want to go to school in Hawaii or Australia and learn about animals, nature, sea life. I want to surf, fish, and wear flowers in my hair, embrace my free spirit.”

JJ’s smile encourages you. Opening up to him is so easy because he understands. He listens. And he wants the same freedom as you do. The only difference is, JJ will chase after his dreams.

“I want to learn how to play guitar, climb a mountain, run a marathon, learn Chinese, ride in a hot air balloon,” you take a second to catch your breath, feel the chill of the breeze on your legs. “I want to find love. Maybe get married, have a kid or two. Adopt five kittens. Build my own home with a pool that has a waterfall. I want to try escargot, visit a rainforest, and see the Northern Lights. I want so many things, JJ.”

“Then let’s do it,” JJ says, standing and pulling you to your feet. A smile lights up his face as he grabs your hands in his. It’s the happiest you’ve seen him in the last hour, but it contrasts with what you feel inside. “Let’s start living.”

~

Never gonna change my mind

We can leave it all behind

Nothin’s gonna stop us

No not this time

“Hawaii, huh?”

You look up from your soup. Kiara leans against the bar top, watching you curiously. JJ has gone off to the bathroom, the perfect opportunity for Kiara to grill you with questions.

“He seems pretty adamant,” she remarks, flipping hair over her shoulder. “What’d you say?”

The spoon clinks against the metal bowl as you set it down, dabbing your lips with a napkin. “I didn’t answer.”

“Don’t you think you should?” Kiara asks, playing with the beads on her bracelet. “From what JJ said, he seems pretty sure that wherever he goes, you’re following.”

“Oh, he’s set on us moving to the west coast, but I can’t just leave the OBX,” you counter, shoulders slumping. “My life is here.”

“Then why did you tell him all the things you wanted to do if you don’t ever plan on doing them with him?”

The million-dollar question.

“Because I knew he’d listen,” you say quietly. “I didn’t think he was serious about us leaving together, though. We’re sixteen, Kie. What sixteen year olds do you know drop everything and leave their home behind? And besides,” your laugh comes out strangled, “My parents would never let me leave. You know how they are. They don’t even like that I’m friends with JJ. They think he’s trouble, a bad influence. How do you think they’d react if I just up and left with him?”

Kiara leans in close, whispering, “That’s why you don’t tell them.”

You roll your eyes as Kie laughs. “I’m not going to change my mind on this, Kiara.”

Her face turns serious as she chews on the corner of her lip. The gears turn in her head as she contemplates. “Would it matter if I said JJ’s in love with you?”

Your eyes roam her face, waiting for a laugh, a smile, a teasing wink, but her composure is kept intact as she stares at you. Your face falters. “He—what?”

She nods. “What boy asks a girl to travel the world with him if he’s not in love with her?”

Color creeps up your neck, mouth dry, heart beating irregularly. Your body is jelly, almost sliding off the bar stool, but you slink back further into the chair, hands gripping the arm rests. “Are you sure?”

“If I was a gambler, I’d bet it all. That’s how sure I am.”

“I—no,” you dig in your purse for some cash, slapping the bills down in haste. “I’m either going to disappoint JJ or my parents, and I can’t disappoint my family. So, no, JJ being in love with me doesn’t change anything,” you say, exhaling a breath. “I’m not going with him.”

“Well, that’s good to know.”

Kiara’s eyes expand, and you freeze. JJ’s boots pad against the floor as he pushes through the front door, angrily stomping into the night. You thank Kiara for the dinner before rushing outside to chase a visibly irritated JJ.

“JJ, wait!” Your hand clamps down on his shoulder, spinning him around. The look on his face is disheartening. You try to cradle his cheeks, something you normally did to comfort him, but he pushes your hands away. “Please, stop.”

“You were never planning to come with me, were you?” JJ questions, twirling a few of the rings on his fingers. “You were just…what? Entertaining me?”

“JJ, my life is here, in the OBX!” The words that use to flow perfectly off your tongue don’t even sound right anymore. Part of you doesn’t believe them. “I can’t just leave it all behind. And my parents…God, JJ, they’d never let me go with you. I mean, we’re so young.”

JJ nods, although he doesn’t understand. He knows you. He knows your heart. He knows where you really stand. But he can’t persuade you anymore than he’s tried. “I’m taking my dad’s boat and I am leaving tomorrow. I’m getting out of here because I know what I want and nothing is going to stop me.”

JJ turns, and your heart squeezes as you watch him leave. Your fingers twitch, begging to reach out to him. This can’t be it. He can’t be leaving you. “Is it true?”

He stops in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder.  “Is what true?”

You choke back a soft cry, voice croaking. “Are you in love with me?”

JJ faces you, staring absentmindedly. He wants nothing more than to hold you in his arms, kiss your breath away. But he keeps his distance, shoving his hands back into his pockets, whispering, “It doesn’t matter, because it wouldn’t be enough, anyway.”

~

Back home, you’re surprised to see your parents still awake, chatting softly at the island in the kitchen. You hastily wipe away any leftover tears before they can hound you with questions.

“You’re home late,” says your father, giving you a look. He’s the stricter parent of the two. “I assume you have a good reason?”

You keep the conversation short. “I got caught up talking to JJ. I lost track of time.”

Your mother wrinkles her nose, wine sloshing in her glass as she takes a sip. “How many times have we told you to stay away from that boy, Y/N? He’s trouble.”

“He’s not trouble,” you fire back, wishing you had come up with a lie instead of telling them the truth. “You’re just judgmental.”

“That’s enough,” your father snaps. He runs a hand over his tired face. Being an attorney has aged him ten years. And to think he wanted to send you down the same dreadful path. “I’m having lunch tomorrow with DA Lance Nicholas. I figured you could come along, ask him some questions--.”

“No.”

Your mother stares at you quizzically. “No?”

“Is tomorrow a bad time?” asks your father, loosening his tie. “I’m supposed to meet with him next week as well, if that’s better for you.”

You feel the rage building up inside of you as you remember JJ’s words. You let them dictate what should be your life. What is it that you want to do? “No, dad, there will never be a time that’s good for me to meet the DA, because I don’t want to meet him. I don’t want to be a lawyer.”

You’re sure they’ll yell, give you a hard time, but the laughs that come out of their mouths are surprising. You don’t understand why they’re laughing, but you’re determine to stand your ground, speak up.

“You’ve never once asked me what I wanted to do with my life.”

“Well, yes, because—.”

“Because you planned it for me.”

Your mom glances at your dad, unsure of how to continue the conversation. “Sweetie--.”

“I’m not going to law school,” The light dims in your father’s eyes, face growing red as your tone grows serious. He’s silent, but it doesn’t scare you. “Because I want to be a marine biologist.”

“Honey, listen,--.”

“I want to travel, see what the world has to offer me. I’m tired of being your puppet. I’m tired of pretending to like Susie and Delia. I’m tired of going to stupid yacht parties with out of touch rich people. I’m tired of reading college textbooks about a career I don’t even want while I’m still in high school. This is my life, and you don’t get to choose how I live it.”

Your mom speaks up after what feels like an hour of silence. Her eyes are full of sorrow, voice low, disapproving. “What happened to you? You’re so…outspoken.”

“It’s that damn Maybank kid,” your dad’s forceful voice cuts right through you. He slams his fist on the counter, startling your mom. You stand your ground, unflinching. “I always knew he’d corrupt you sooner or later.”

“Corrupt me?” A laugh escapes you. He can’t be serious. “He helped me, dad. He taught me to stand up for myself, which is what I’m doing right now. He taught me that there’s a life outside of our world in Figure Eight. JJ helped me realize that I don’t belong here,” your mother’s face drops. Guilt briefly flickers across your face. “I belong with him, wherever he goes. Whether it be California or Texas or Hawaii. I belong with him.”

“You are sixteen years old,” your father reminds, looking at you in disgust. “You have no clue what you’re talking about or what you are doing. Go on, get out of my sight.”

You shake your head, turning your back on your parents. It didn’t matter what they said. They wouldn’t be able to stop you from chasing your dreams, from living your life the way you wanted to. They could say you were too young, too naïve, until they were blue in the face. But you know what you want, and no one, especially not your parents, would stop you.

~

So take your hand in mine

It’s ours tonight

This is our rebel love song

Staring down at the note in your hand, you exhale a sigh before dropping it on the kitchen counter. You sign it with a kiss, letting your family know you love them, before venturing outside, quietly closing the door behind you.

The last night in your house was spent packing, constantly checking that your bedroom door was locked to keep the helicopter parents away. There wasn’t much you could fit into the duffel bag, but you squeezed as much as you could, the contents varying from clothing to toiletries to small mementos you didn’t want to leave behind.

The plan was to surprise JJ at the dock. Tugging your duffel higher onto your shoulder, you walk with a content smile.

When you reach the dock, your heart rises to your throat. JJ stands with his back to you, one foot on the dock, the other in the boat. He’s ready to take off, and your legs break out into a sprint, daring him to leave you behind. “JJ!”

The voice makes his ears perk up. He turns, wide-eyed, smile brighter than the gleaming Carolina sun. JJ’s heart swells as he watches the girl he loves run after him, one hand waving frantically in the air, the other tugging the bag higher on her arm.

“JJ, wait!”

But he’s not going anywhere. He’d never go anywhere without you.

You drop the bag onto the dock, launching yourself into JJ’s body. He wobbles slightly, arms coming around your middle, pulling you as far into his chest as you’ll go. You fit perfectly.

“You came,” JJ breathes into your hair, kissing your forehead. The soft pecks are quick, friendly.

It’s not enough for you, though.

You grab his cheeks, pressing your mouth to his, hard. Your heart reacts, beating wildly. The feeling in your body, the sensation you get from kissing JJ, it feels like sunshine. Warm. Blissful. Happy.

There’s no hesitation as JJ kisses you back. His hand creeps up your spine, pressing you impossibly closer to him, almost as if he’s testing to see if you’re real.

It’s all real. You, the kiss, the moment.

He pulls away, slightly breathless. His eyes flicker to the dandelion lying on his drawstring bag, and a smile tugs at his parted lips. He’d picked it for you on his way to the dock, just in case.

“It’s true,” JJ says, reaching down to tenderly pick the flower. Doe-eyed, you watch as he tucks the dandelion behind your ear, shielding the stem with a few strands of your hair. “I am so deeply in love with you.”

“And you were going to leave without ever letting me know.”

“A part of me hoped you wouldn’t let me leave without you,” JJ answers, helping you settle into the boat.

“You’re right,” you smile. “I couldn’t let you leave without knowing I’m in love with you, too.”

The kiss that follows is better than the first. It’s softer, more intimate, and it feels like a rainbow.  

It completes him.

It completes you.

After grabbing your bag from the dock, you help JJ untie the boat before joining him at the wheel. The boat rumbles to life, sailing slowly across the open bay. A new life is just in the distance.

“You ready?” JJ asks. There’s nothing in his eyes other than hope, nothing in his grin other than happiness.

Taking his hand, you smile. “I am now.”

[kerikaaria]

If I Never Met You: Chapter 36

(??? X Reader) Idol!AU, Manager!Reader

Genre: (PG13) Angst and fluff

WC: 3.4k

Warnings: None

Series Masterlist

Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37

MANAGER OF K-POP GROUP RESCUES IDOL, SEVERELY INJURRED ON MV SET

K-pop group BTS is currently celebrating their first ever music show win tonight with their captivating performance of ‘I Need U.’ But while the idols are basking in the joy of their first win, one of their managers who has been with them since the beginning is not in quite so good of shape.

An anonymous source has provided us with an exclusive behind the scenes look at some of the chaos which occurred during the shooting for the music video for the track ‘I Need U.’ We have photo proof of the incident, captured from a video which our anonymous source provided for us.

In the music video, each member has their own stories to portray. One such story is portrayed by the member V, whose character appears to live in an abusive household. The video shows him having a scuffle with who we assume to be the character’s father. This is where things didn’t go exactly according to plan during filming, according to the source.

“The scene was originally supposed to have some back and forth between V and the actor,” our source explained. “In the music video, you can see that next to where the fight happens there is a piece of furniture, like a shelving unit. During the first filming attempts when the actor pushed V away from him, he had accidentally pushed him into the furniture a few times.

[Picture of the set described above]

“I honestly have no idea how she even saw it. It happened so quickly that no one else could react, but she reacted so fast. The last time V had bumped into the furniture, it had rocked it enough that it started to tip over. Before anyone even knew what was happening, the manager had pulled V out of the way, but the furniture ended up falling on her instead.”

[Picture of the scene, furniture mid-fall]

“It was so shocking and happened so suddenly. After I was able to process what had happened, I couldn’t help but feel amazed that she was able to act so quickly.”

The manager in question is L/n Y/n, who has been working with the group since 2012. She was taken to the hospital, where she was treated for two broken legs. She left the facility a few days later in a wheelchair and we assume she will be unable to work until she can walk on her own again.

To long-time fans of BTS, her name may sound familiar. Not too long after the group debuted in 2013, pictures of her with the idols had been leaked online.

[Picture of Y/n with Seokjin and Namjoon in 2013]

Fans’ immediate reactions to the pictures were very critical, wondering who this mystery woman was and why she seemed so close to the group. It didn’t take long for their company, BigHit Entertainment, to post an official statement saying another employee of the company had gotten into her phone and released the pictures. That employee was promptly fired, and after a post on the group’s twitter introducing her, fans relented on their criticisms.

[Namjoon’s tweet from that day]

“It is really obvious, seeing her interactions with the group that they are rather close,” our anonymous source confirmed. “They seem to be as close as family.”

Not much is known about where she is right now, but we expect she’s probably resting at home, recovering from the injury. Depending on how bad the injury was, she could take anywhere from two to six months to recover…

Bang PD was sitting in your living room, making you feel incredibly anxious. He didn’t want you to come down to the company since there was not really any discreet way for you to enter the building. After the article from yesterday, there were reporters waiting outside, hoping to run into someone they could squeeze information out of.

You really appreciated his thoughtfulness, but at the same time him being in your house was somewhat intimidating.

“I swear, I didn’t have anything to do with that article, PD-nim,” you said.

“Don’t worry, Y/n,” he responded. “I know it wasn’t you. You couldn’t have had access to the video footage they were supplied with. You’re not in trouble. I’m merely here to discuss with you how we are going to proceed from here.”

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“So far, there’s a very positive reaction to the article,” Bang said. “Fans are praising you for being so quick and attentive, and for keeping Taehyung from getting hurt. I really don’t see this article causing us any trouble so I don’t think we’ll need to do damage control.”

You felt a lot of the nervous tension you had building up leave you at that. You had seen a lot of comments left on the article yourself and it did appear to be positive, but you were scared to check Twitter or anywhere else so you weren’t sure if the response was similar elsewhere.

“As for what we are going to do, we have a few options,” PD-nim continued. “Now, you are not one of our celebrities. You didn’t sign up to be in the spotlight at all. So I can’t force you to do this, but I think it would be good if you would be willing to provide some kind of statement for the fans. We could do it internally, just have some basic questions written up which you can respond to and then we could then publish in an official statement from us, or send it to different news outlets to write articles about. What do you think, Y/n?”

You took a moment to think about it, but felt really unsure of yourself. “What would you want me to say?” you asked.

“Basically just whatever you want about the incident, as long as PR and I approve it. We’d come up with a list of questions to guide it, and see if there’s anything the fans are curious about that you could answer as well.”

That didn’t sound too bad, to be honest. Especially if it would just be done internally, rather than having to speak to some random reporter or interviewer. “I think I could do that,” you decided. “So you’re doing this to help promote the album even more I’m assuming? Since it’s something getting good PR.”

Bang spluttered for a moment before clearing his throat. “Well, when you put it bluntly like that…”

You laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it as something bad. I just clarified more so that I just understood why you were hoping for me to do this. And if you need me to talk about the album or anything like that.”

“Oh, that you don’t need to do. It’ll be a little too straightforward that way. Just mentioning the music video, which will be easy to do when you’re talking about the fact that it happened on the set, and saying the name of the track is good enough. Only what you’d need to in order to tell the story. Any more than that and it’ll be a bit too much.”

You nodded in understanding. “Okay. Can I just write my answers to the questions though? I think that will be easier for me than talking to someone.”

“No problem. I’ll have PR come up with questions to cover all of our bases, and then if there would be anything else you want to add outside of those answers, feel free. I’ll try to get those sent to you either today or tomorrow, and if you could answer and send them back as quickly as you can, but without rushing it?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you smiled.

It was a lot easier than you expected to talk about the accident, and once your statement was finalized and sent out to the various news outlets, the articles were written surprisingly fast.

It had even gone viral to an extent. Even though BTS was still working their way up, stories like this in the K-pop world weren’t very common. The one thing that you weren’t prepared for was how supportive Army suddenly was of you.

You weren’t unknown to them—of course you were frequently seen with the boys, plus the pictures of you that had been leaked two years ago still circulated every now and then. And there were those who would say nice things about you here and there. But this was a whole new level you had never seen before, at least not for yourself.

They were sending so much support to BTS' Twitter, saying how thankful they were that the boys had you with them and praising you for protecting Taehyung. You felt that some things that they said were a little over the top, though. Some of them were idolizing you, making it sound like you were some kind of hero and that other managers needed to strive to be you. Those things were maybe just a little too much.

No, they were definitely way too much. And it was a surprise to you that the positive reactions weren’t really helping you feel better at all. In fact, they only did when you were actively reading comments. Otherwise, the realization of being further in the spotlight than ever weighed on you so much more than you could have ever expected.

And of course, the promotions for BTS’ album continued to go well, their fanbase seeming to increase faster than ever before. Needless to say, with the increase of promotional activities the boys were busier than ever.

It felt silly that being separate from them so often lately bothered you as much as it did. It was selfish, really, wanting to always be around them. You knew that was unrealistic, not even because of your current situation, but because they had their own lives. You couldn’t expect them to always spend time with you, and probably sooner rather than later they would find friends who they’d rather spend their free time with.

Which wouldn’t be a bad thing, not at all. It was natural. Being stuck here while they were off working and too busy to see you most days now made you realize that you’d gotten unhealthily attached to BTS. You should really have been thinking of a way to fix that, but all it did right now was make you feel worse.

They were currently in Malaysia, and even for a few days before that only one of them was barely able to trudge into your apartment at night to help you into bed. You wished you could just spend all day in bed and not get up, but the nurse would never allow you to. You remembered one morning when you told her you just wanted to stay in bed, but she gave you a mini lecture on why that was really unhealthy and that she highly encouraged you to get into your chair.

You spent too long just staring at your phone screen, which was currently showing the group chat. You had gotten a few texts from one or two of them when they first arrived in Malaysia, a few pretty pictures and a “Wish you were here with us.” But they’d been too busy since to text.

So many times you hovered your fingers over the keyboard, itching to talk to them. But you couldn’t. You knew they were busy. And when they weren’t busy, they were tired and needed to rest. And these were things that you constantly reminded yourself of, things that you repeatedly told yourself to get these stupid incessant thoughts in your head to just shut up.

But logic didn’t work with anxiety. It didn’t matter that you knew that. This thing in your head would still whisper in your ear.

‘But they could find time to text you if they wanted. It only takes a moment to send it. If they really wanted to talk to you, they’d be trying. But they’re not. They don’t care about you as much as they say they do.’

Anxiety was pure evil.

And unfortunately for you right now, you were falling deep into its grimy clutches. Trying to think about Army’s support just made you feel so much pressure and added weight onto your shoulders you didn’t need. Thinking about the boys made your anxiety’s claws dig in even further into your skin.  But maybe, if you just focused on just him that would be okay, right? It had helped you many times before.

As you felt your breath starting to become shallower, you closed your eyes and tried to fill your mind with just thoughts of him. But images of memories that usually warmed your heart were soon overpowered by that voice in your head.

‘You know he doesn’t feel the same. You’re just plain old Y/n. His manager, his friend. He’s an artist, a celebrity. He has both girls and boys falling at his feet every day. Why would he ever want you?’

You shook your head as the tears started to fall from your eyes. You couldn’t even begin to try to reason with it on this one. It was right. You should have figured out a way to put a stop to the way you were feeling when you first realized it. But instead you let it grow and fester and now you were in way too deep to just push it aside. You were such an idiot.

With nothing to stop it, you let the dam break. All the emotions you’d been trying so hard to keep under control just flowed out through your tears. At least when you stopped fighting it, the anxiety seemed to shut up and let you just feel everything in peace.

Your mind gone blank, you lost track of time while you sat there, glad you were at home and alone so no one could see you looking like an emotional wreck. As your tears were slowing down, your phone began to ring.

It was the ringtone you had set for him.

And he was requesting a video call. You cleared your throat and warmed your voice up for a moment, hoping it was enough to hide the fact that you had just been crying for who knows how long and answered with voice only.

Yoongi and Taehyung must have been sharing a room since both of them were on the screen, sitting on a hotel bed.

“Noona!” Tae greeted excitedly, but his expression quickly mellowed almost into a frown. “Why do you have your video off?”

“Ah, sorry,” you replied, clearing your throat again when your voice came out a little too nasally, and to buy you a moment to think up a lie. “I haven’t gotten to shower today so I look gross.”

“We’ve seen it before,” Yoongi said. “Nothing new there.”

“But, you can’t look gross, noona,” Tae said, throwing his hyung a look. “We don’t care, we just want to see you! We miss you.”

“Sorry,” you repeated, sniffling a little. “Maybe next time.”

Yoongi’s brows furrowed, and he exchanged a glance with Taehyung who was beginning to look concerned as well.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asked. “You sound…”

“Like you’ve been crying,” Taehyung finished.

Darn, you were hoping they wouldn’t have noticed. “I’m fine,” you tried, smiling in hopes that would make your tone sound lighter. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Would you turn on your camera then?” Yoongi asked. “So we can see that you’re fine?”

Curse Yoongi and his deceivingly high EQ. You sighed, not able to come up with a response quickly enough to cover yourself. When they didn’t say anything more and just continued to look concerned, you caved in and turned on the camera.

“I actually do probably look really gross right now, sorry,” you said.

“Oh my-. Noona, what happened?” Taehyung asked.

“Fans weren’t being jerks again were they?” Yoongi checked. “Last I saw, they were saying nice thing about you.”

“No, it’s not that,” you said. “I just… my anxiety has been getting to me a lot lately and I guess it just got to be too much today.”

The two on the phone exchanged another look. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Taehyung gently asked. “You were doing well, weren’t you? At least last you mentioned it to us, you were.”

“I was,” you confirmed. “I don’t really quite understand what’s causing it sometimes lately. Sometimes I do, but… it’s something I need to handle on my own.”

“What do you mean you need to handle it on your own?” Yoongi asked. “We promised to be here for you whenever you need us, and we stick by that. We want to help. If it’s this bad then, not to sound rude but maybe it’s something too tough for you to handle on your own right now. And that’s okay, that’s what we’re here for.”

You really had no idea how you could possibly tell them the root of the problem without making them feel bad. It wasn’t their fault they were busy and you were hurt. Not to mention, if you told Taehyung of all people, he would only feel infinitely worse since he never stopped blaming himself for you being hurt.

You must have taken too long to reply since Taehyung offered in a quiet voice, “Is it because you’re alone? That you’re sitting at home by yourself most of the time with no one there to keep you company?”

You were so shocked he hit the nail straight on the head that you just stared at the screen with your mouth open, not able to reply.

“That’s what it is, isn’t it?” Taehyung looked at you through the phone, gaze imploring.

“I-,” you really needed to work on your lying capabilities. With that earnest look in his eyes, how could you dare lie to him? You nodded carefully. “But, I don’t blame you guys,” you quickly clarified. “You guys are busy, it’s your job. I absolutely do not think you guys are ignoring me or that you don’t care. I know that you just don’t have the time, and my only other friends are singers too. I don’t or can’t expect any of you to just drop your jobs for me.”

“No, we can’t,” Yoongi said. “But we could definitely put more effort into contacting you.”

Taehyung vigorously nodded. “Yes! Would that help? If we texted and called more often? Remind you that you’re important to us no matter what? And make sure you know we are always missing you and thinking about you? Because I do. I miss you like crazy without you with us. Even when we’re still in Seoul.”

Taehyung spoke really fast, making you take a second to absorb everything that he said before you could reply. “I think that would help, yes,” you admitted. “If I’m honest, I’m always wanting to text the group chat. But I don’t want to bother you when you’re so busy, and-”

“You could never be a bother to us, noona,” Yoongi firmly responded. “If you want to text the group chat, do it. It doesn’t matter if it’s just one text, or if the next time we have time to look you’ve written us an entire novel. We’ve been curious why you’ve seemed so quiet recently, actually.”

Taehyung nodded. “Yeah, we’d love to get texts from you whenever. Even if we can’t read them right when you send them, I’m sure everyone would feel happy to see them. We all really miss you, especially right now while we’re so far away. Getting done with work just to see you’ve texted us? It’ll be like a birthday present.” His smile was so sweet, you could feel his honesty through the screen.

And it made you smile in return. It was amazing how easily these boys were able to dispel your worries and make you feel worlds better.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll start texting you guys whenever I feel like it.”

“Promise?” Yoongi asked.

“Promise.”

“You know all of us love you, right?” Taehyung asked.

“Of course I do,” you said.

“Good,” Yoongi replied. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to tell her about, Tae?”

“Oh yeah!” Taehyung bounced a little in excitement.

It wasn’t lost on you how Yoongi had suddenly changed the topic to make sure your mind was no longer on what was bothering you. As you listened to Taehyung animatedly tell a story about something that happened today, the smile sitting on your face was genuine.

You’ve wondered before, but you didn’t know if you’d ever get an answer as to how you were so lucky to get such amazing friends in your life.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope @misohime @netflix-batman-sleep @smallbaby-cat @leitholdwithlove @ramyagovindraj @rjsmochii​ @overtherainbow35​ @leesalts​

Send me a message or ask if you want tagged! And also feel free to leave comments or send asks to just talk to me!

[nonbinaryemonugget]

Good Kid: Part 2- Roman

I wasn’t planning to do a squeal, but this was all my brain would let me think about for awhile and than my ADHD hyperfixated so..  *le shrug*

Part 2 to this

Summary: Roman just wants to give this kid another chance.

One more chance is all Virgil needs.

Ships: Pre-Established Romantic Anxceitmus, Pre-Established Romantic Logince

Characters: Virgil, Remus, Janus, Roman, Logan, Some  OCs.

Warnings: Foster care/homes, bullying, fight mention, self-deprecation,  implied neglect/abuse/emotional abuse maybe? Transphobia. Homophobia, Polyphobia? Is that a thing? She doesn’t like that they’re poly, if you catch my drift.  If you find any more please tell me.

Listen I added a ton of Virgil angst bc I was bored so I you think the characters are in fact, out of character: You’re probably right, congrats, I don’t care. ALSO I did not research foster care/homes at all because my brain decided not to vibe with the info.

“Virgil, hun, someone wants to see you.” Miss Walker, Ms. Turner’s assistant, gave a shy knock before opening the door. At least she listened to his comments about not be called by his last name.

“Me, specifically?” He raised his head from it’s place on Remus’s lap, where he had been scrolling through Tumblr. Remus’s hands fell from Virgil’s hair, and Janus looked up from where he had been rubbing circles on Virgil’s hand.

“W-Well, he specified he wanted to see our most... ah how did he word it-? Right! ‘Any and all kids who have run out of hope! They need it back, and my quest is to give it to them!’“ She added a flourish of her arms, grinning at Virgil. “He’s rather... excited.”

“Excited? To see me?” Virgil snorted, looking at the torn up remains of his folder in the trash, “I doubt it.”

“Quest?” Remus piped up, “What is he, a knight?”

“His name is Roman Prince-Berry, and he really does want to see you. Ms. Turner’s out today, she left after she returned you Virgil, and it would be lovely if I could have an easy day for once.” Miss Walker looked at him, trying to be stern and lovably failing. 

Virgil raised a brow, sighing. Miss Walker was so much nicer than Ms. T. Sure Ms. T was nice, and she wasn’t homophobic, which was always a plus, but she was a bit wary of polyamorous partners, and often kicked Janus out of  Remus and Virgil’s shared bedroom. Miss Walker, on the other hand, was very accepting.

She also believed there was hope for Virgil.

He disagreed. 

“Go tell Mr. Princey I won’t see him without my boyfriends. I’m not going back to another homophobic or polyphobic or whatever household.” Virgil grabbed Janus’s hand and set his head back in Remus’s lap. 

He heard the sound of Miss Walker leaving, and let out a soft hum as Remus ran a hand through his hair. “You aren’t exactly making it easy for her, Spiderbite.” 

“I agreed to come at least. Besides, what are the odds he actually wants me?” Virgil scoffed, and Janus pressed a small kiss to his hand.

“He’d be lucky to have the opportunity to raise you, darling.” Janus mumbles, and Virgil lets out at little laugh at the absolutely true sincerity in his voice.  

“We’re being serious, Jumping Spider!” Remus sat up suddenly, hitting his head on the bottom bunk. He rubs his head.

“I know. I just can’t imagine anyone thinking that way.” Virgil admits.

Almost as if summoned by his self-deprecating, Miss Walker comes in, followed by a man who must be Roman Prince-Berry. Virgil’s hand instinctively went up to fiddle with one of his ear piercings. His earrings themselves had been taken out (”Impressions, Virgil!” Ms. T would chime every time she caught him wearing them.) but he still fidgeted nervously with the pierced hole. 

Miss Walker gave Virgil an encouraging smile before quickly leaving at the sound of one of the younger kid’s cries. Virgil sits up, eyeing Roman suspiciously. 

Roman had been planning a, rather loud, declaration of caring and hope for the young boy, but he could already see it wasn’t going to work for this Virgil Ann Storm. So instead he took a seat on the carpeted floor, setting the (newly printed) copy of Virgil’s file beside. 

“Hello, my name is Roman Prince-Berry. It’s a pleasure to meet the three of you. What are your names?” The three boys glanced at one another. It was Virgil who spoke first.

“Isn’t that in the file?” He glanced at the thing before quickly looking away. Didn’t matter, Virgil was sure that guilt still flashed across his face. Whatever. Roman had wanted the most troubled, here he was. 

“Sure it is, but I think your story is better told by you than by the people who threw together every bit of paper dictating who you were.” Roman was smiling, not too wide, but enough to encourage Virgil. 

“I’m Virgil. These are my boyfriends, Janus and Remus.” They each waved at their name, but otherwise kept silent. They were here to support Virgil when he needed it, and he was doing okay right now. 

“And how old are you?”

“They’re both older than me. Both 17. I’m 16, but I skipped a grade a while back.” Both of Virgil’s boyfriends were holding his hands, but he was staring at Roman with interest, mirrored by the man. 

“Listen Virgil, you’re a good kid. I don’t believe anyone who tells me otherwise, so I don’t want you to either. But I am going to read your file, okay? I’m going to read it aloud, and you can tell me about it, if you’re comfortable, or not. But my opinion isn’t going to change after I read this. You’re still a good kid.”

Roman hadn’t liked the anxious look that passed over Virgil’s face as he mentioned his file (The poor boy must hate what that awful file said.) but Virgil still nodded, biting his lip and tapping Janus’s hand in a repetitive pattern.

“Alright. It says here that your second fight was a year after you got put into the system? Are you comfortable telling me what happened?” Roman looked up at him, eyes flickering between Janus’s expression and Virgil’s eyes. 

“They were bullying Jan.” He whispered, staring down at his lap.

“And what a Night in Shining Amour you were!” Virgil had to do a double-take. Roman had not only called him a knight, but he had said it with something like... pride.

“How old were you Virgil? When you got put in the- when you met Janus?” 

“Eight.” 

Roman swallowed, trying to push down his anger. Not everyone could be as patient with children as him, he knew that. But Virgil was hurt. Defeated. Virgil was absolutely certain that he was nothing of worth. Roman planned to change Virgil’s mind.  “And when did you meet Remus?”

“I was ten.” 

“So you’ve been here longer than the two of them?”

Virgil nodded.

“Alright. Let’s see... for someone who is very smart, Virgil, who skipped a grade and passed all your tests with A’s... you seem to have dips in your grades. Here you got F’s for two weeks straight.” He looked up the boy, who’s hands wouldn’t sit still. He had removed them from his boyfriends’ grips and was now fidgeting with the end of his hoodie. “Do you feel comfortable explaining?”

Virgil nodded slowly, hesitating before he spoke. 

“I just... They were hurting a girl. Because she was trans. And when I stood up for her, they gave me a choice. Either they could find her everyday and I could keeping getting in trouble for fighting or...” 

“Or?” Roman stares up at Virgil, at the way he avoids Roman’s gaze, at the fidgets, and at the dejected look in his eyes. Virgil truly believed he was a hopeless case. Roman was certain his heart would break. 

“Or they would meet me behind the school and... beat me up. And then when they found out I was smart they’d dump their homework on me so that they’d start getting A’s. And I know that I shouldn’t have let them do that, but it was so much easier to just let them.” He stares at his hands, flexing them a couple times.

“It’s alright, Virgil. I understand. Listen you don’t have to keep talking to me if you don’t want to.” Roman looks up at Virgil, who won’t meet his eyes. He turns to Remus and Janus, who both are looking at him blankly. But, they aren’t glaring, which is nice. 

“No, it’s alright.” Virgil’s voice is quiet. “I just, didn’t really have time for my own work after that. So my grades started dipping.” Roman nodded, biting his lip and reading over the file. 

“Your first fight. Do you feel comfortable talking abou-”

“No.” Virgil cut him off, staring at Roman, an apologetic look in his eyes. “I don’t.” 

Roman nodded, “And that’s alright Virgil. I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me everything. Because it’s my job as a guardian to support you. Not bring you down because of your past.”

Virgil stares at Roman, before ducking his head down and looking away. “Thank you.” He whispers. Janus nodded slowly, grabbing Virgil’s hand. Remus ran a hand through Virgil’s hair, giving Roman a grateful look. 

Roman stared a the file for a second before setting it aside. “Listen Virgil. I really want to help. I won’t judge you based on your past. There.. are some things that we have to work on... Like fighting. I want you to understand that you can trust me. You don’t have to come with me at all. I just want to help.”

There was a silence, in which Virgil picked at his lips. He mind was bouncing between this and that and finally he asked. 

“Can I- Can I visit Jan and Rem?”

“Of course you can!”

“Then I’d like to go with you.”

[magpiemorality]

Seeking: Family, Foster Twins 5

Enter Picani, Therapist Extraordinaire!

Warnings: referenced child abuse throughout, panic attack, implied separation anxiety.

First | Previous | AO3

***

Movie night went… well, actually. Roman was quiet, cuddling into Remus's side as they shared one of the couches, but they both laughed and muttered along to the kids movie they'd picked, and Patton had heard them chatting comfortably in the kitchen while they supervised the popcorn process.

The next morning he heard back from Emile about the voicemail he'd left. There was an appointment available during Emile's lunch, that he usually left in case of emergencies like this one. He had time to fit both twins individually if Remus wanted to come along too, and Patton could call in for an appointment of his own when the boys went to Remy's for their end of the week assessment.

Patton wasn't sure how to approach Remus. The boy was clearly starving for every drop of affection and kind parenting he gave him, thriving on the praise and thanks after a job well done. He'd damn near whimpered when Patton had thanked him again for swapping chores so the adult could talk to his twin, and had even tried to take on the hoovering, craving the validation.

He'd been kind but firm then, letting Remus know that this was a deal and it was meant to be kept to, because Patton was an equal member of the household and had his own share of the responsibilities. Remus didn't understand yet but he didn't have to do chores to earn affection, and it needed to be made clear from the start.

But how to broach the subject of the therapist? Children were unpredictable, he knew that. He'd seen the dissociation Roman had exhibited and he wasn't so sure Remus, even with all of his desperation to please, would be particularly positive either.

"Boys, you all done there?" He asked, poking his head into the laundry room to see them actually folding the clothes. "Oh wonderful! I've got some news for you both, if you're free?"

Remus waited for Roman as always, and when Roman nodded he did too, following Patton out to the kitchen table where Patton can push some small info booklets from Emile's practice over to them to browse through. "So I talked to Dr Picani, like I said I would to you, Roman. He has some time today at lunch. And we haven't had a chance to chat about it yet Remus, but he's offered you a spot too, if you're ready to join us today? It's just an informal meeting, so you can ask him questions and see if you'll get along with him. We'd need to go in about an hour, what do you boys think?"

There was a long silence as the twins both stared at their pamphlets. Patton waited with unending patience, before clearing his throat when the silence dragged on. "Would you prefer to have a chat about it together without me?" He suggested softly, and Roman's quick nod confirmed his suspicions.

They were a united front against the world. It didn't surprise him that this perceived threat warranted a discussion.

Patton left them to it and absolutely did not eavesdrop. He felt the temptation to, of course he did. He was human and he was trying to parent two hurt boys that were fresh out of an incredibly toxic home environment. Eavesdropping could provide valuable information that could help him understand and look after them better.

But it wasn't worth it to betray their trust like that. He made sure they could hear him move into the kitchen to set the kettle on, texting Emile with an update and catching up on some news on twitter before Remus appeared in the doorway to fetch him. The boy shifted from foot to foot, rubbing the back of his head, and mumbled that they'd talked it over, if he'd like to hear what they had to say.

"Of course," Patton replied, patting Remus's shoulder on the way into the room.

"We'll go," Roman said immediately, before Patton had even had a chance to sit down. "But we might not like it."

"Understandable."

"And we just want to ask questions. We don't want to answer anything today."

"There may be intake forms, but that's absolutely something for you to discuss with Dr Picani. I won't be involved in the process apart from as your lift either way."

"... You won't ask?" Roman checked, narrowing his eyes with what looked like a mix of suspicion and genuine confusion. "You won't get him to tell you?"

Patton had to fight not to gasp at the idea. "No!" He said firmly instead. "That would be not only disrespectful to both of you, but also breaching the confidentiality of therapy. If you boys stay and you want to we can discuss a group session for all three of us together. It can help to improve communication between family, but apart from that your sessions would be your own."

He wanted to ask so badly, if their parents had done that, but he had to leave that to Emile. Patton knew the value of trust and he knew the value of keeping things separate, and trying to pry into their lives now would never work. If they chose to say something, to come to him then it would be amazing and beautiful and precious, but to force it would be to tell them he was just there to fix them. Not to be the parent they truly required.

Not that Patton didn't hope that would happen one day; he was an excellent and enthusiastic giver of hugs. And he missed his hugs sessions with Thomas a lot.

The twins shared a glance and Remus shrugged, leg bouncing under the table, fingers picking at his lip. "So we'll go in an hour and talk to this doctor, and then...?"

"Whatever you like. I'm thinking we could go out for the day tomorrow, so if you wanted to just go to the park or hang out around here this afternoon that's cool. What were you two thinking?"

"P-"

"I want to stay here," Roman spoke over his brother. Remus didn't even react apart from to stop talking and immediately close his mouth, looking at his brother. Patton breathed deeply.

"Okay. And you, Remus?" He asked softly, keeping the tone as even as possible so Roman didn't interpret it as a jab.

Remus shrugged. "Here is fine," he said, casting a small glance and a smile at his twin.

"Alrighty then. Maybe we can grab some lunch on the way back first then. Alright guys, I'm going to go and do some office time, be ready in an hour, if you can. Don't worry about bringing anything with you but yourselves now!"

Dr Emile Picani was, in Patton's humble opinion, one of the best child- and indeed adult- therapists in the state, if not the country. He smiled that same relaxed, slightly sheepish smile when he saw the three of them walk in, greeting Patton with a hug and asking the boys for their names without trying to force any contact. Patton could see him analysing quickly in his head as he gathered insignificant bits of information, like age and school year, putting them at ease and probably running through the list of observations Patton had sent ahead.

"Well I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to go in! Who wants to go first?" He said, while Patton filled out their forms with the receptionist. "No takers? Okay, why don't we go by alphabetical order, so that's you then Remus. Is that okay?"

Remus nodded, but Patton caught the faint gulp out of the corner of his eyes and offered the boy a reassuring smile when wide eyes found his, before the pair headed into Emile's room. Roman sloped off to the waiting area chairs and pointedly ignored Patton when he sat nearby, playing something on his phone.

"Do you think he's okay?" He asked abruptly about five minutes in. "He's not good with questions, or like, direct stuff. Maybe you should check on him."

Patton glanced up. "I'm sure he's fine. Em- Dr Picani is a professional, and if Remus was uncomfortable he would end the meeting and bring him out."

"Yeah but what if he can't tell, you know? What if he thinks Remus is just being super quiet or something?"

"Roman, it's alright, can you try and take a few deep breaths for me?"

"Because he's super quiet around new people, you're like, a weird anomaly, and he gets panicked real easy and what if Dr Picani says the wrong thing-"

"Roman,"

"Cause it's easy to do that, I do that sometimes and I should know! I know what he's like but Dr Picani doesn't I-"

"Roman, I'm going to hold your hand okay?"

Roman looked at him with wide eyes. "Okay," he gasped, squeezing tight when Patton grasped his fingers.

Patton shuffled closer and waited for Roman to look at him again. "I'm going to put your hand on my chest so you can feel my breathing, alright? I'd like you to try and copy my breathing. There's no rush, just try and copy along. There you go."

They breathed and breathed together. The receptionist gave Patton a glanced but he shook his head, wary of trying to introduce anyone else in to help with Roman's panic attack. The boy stared almost without blinking at his face, until his chest didn't heave anymore but rose and fell in a more reasonable rhythm.

He whined very quietly under his breath, and Patton smiled at him. "That was awesome, well done. Thank you for letting me help, Roman." The teenager nodded at him quickly, and yanked his hand back when the door to Emile's room opened and the doctor led Remus out.

"Oh, Ro..." Remus whispered, hurrying to his twins side to hug him while the adults shared a long glance. "It's okay, it's not really scary at all! Dr P was really nice, and I felt okay, and I'll be waiting here the whole time, right?" He looked to Patton for a nod of confirmation, quickly supplied. "See?"

Roman was still shaky but he let Remus help him up and over to the door, glancing back just before Emile closed it on them.

Remus wasn't a whole lot better, being kept from his brother, but perhaps the knowledge of what was going on behind the door helped because he mostly sat and played with the kid's block toy that seemed to be in every waiting room ever, occasionally asking Patton questions like,

"How long will he be?"

"Probably a few more minutes, if it's much like yours."

And,

"Is Dr Picani really like that, or is it just, y'know, to make you feel better?"

"Might be a bit of both kiddo. He's a real softie, but he is a professional and he is there to make you feel comfortable, right?"

"Right, right."

And lastly,

"Patton?"

"Mm?"

"Do you go to therapy too?"

Patton closed his book and sat forwards to answer Remus's innocuous question properly, feeling the weight of the attention Remus was pretending wasn't trained directly on his answer. "I do, Remus. I try to see Dr Picani when I can, and when I had Thomas we used to go to him together as well. I sometimes go extra, if I need the support once in a while. In fact, while you guys have your meeting with Remy this Friday I think I'll give Dr P a visit, so I can talk to him about what's going on in my life too."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

Remus blanched. "No I mean, I just thought you were... like, not like us."

Oh dear. Patton raked his fingers through his hair. "What do you mean by that one, kiddo?"

But Remus wouldn't answer, just shrugging and turning back to discovering and rediscovering the path of the orange block from one end of the wire to the other.

Roman wasn't exactly smiling when he came out, but nor did he have the same edge of panic to him as when he'd entered. He kept glancing at Emile with the same slightly puzzled expression Remus was, while Emile happily ignored the attention and evenly explained the next steps, bidding them all a good afternoon.

"So, who wants to grab food on the way home?" Patton asked, breaking the awkward silence that followed Emile's departure.

The boys lit up, and although they were subdued on the way back they seemed mostly to be lost in thought. Patton would take it as a win for now, and hope that when he asked later they both gave him positive answers to going back again.

If they stayed, of course.

He really hoped they stayed. He was already so attached...

--

Next

[hollypastl]

the disappearance of [REDACTED] ch.2

miya atsumu/reader

Summary: "MISSING: MIYA Y/N" It reads. Underneath is a picture of yourself. Age, height, weight. Everything important is listed. How embarrassing.

Genre: angst/mystery

Warnings: missing persons, time skip spoilers

Notes: crossposted on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726002/chapters/70468146#workskin

chapter two: you will live and die for them because that’s your way

Osamu is still as a statue as he processes what his brother’s just told him.

It doesn’t seem real.

“That doesn’t make any— No. I know you’re you and she’s her, but you two are…” He trails off and starts wiping down the bar again. It’s a nervous habit Osamu picked up sometime when he wasn’t watching. “I mean... last week she didn’t act like anything was—”

Atsumu is busy reeling from his brother almost(?) complimenting his relationship that he almost misses it. “Last week?”

He nods. “Yeah, the stall was packed at the Friday game… She jumped in and manned the register so the rest of us could work on finishing orders.”

“Last week, though? You’re positive?”

He nodded.

“You saw her?”

From your usual court side seats, you could hear shoes squeaking and players panting. The thirty second row just wasn’t the same. At the same time, watching the game from a birds eye view gave you a new perspective and appreciation.

You leaned forward and locked on to Sakusa for the serve that would start the set. Your cheek sunk into your hand as his serve shot almost straight into the floor if not for a quick save by Komori that he bounced with only a single arm.

Someone across the way whooped and your eyes darted side to side as the ball hopped in the air and the setter shot a quick toss through the air. Your eyes landed on the spiker it was hurtling towards. From this far away, it was impossible to see, but you knew Suna well enough. Right now he was probably thinking something like, ‘There’s a three man block in front of me, is there really any use in jumping? I’m not gonna land a point anyway, so I might as well conserve my energy.” Still, he leaped for all he was worth and dinked it with his freakishly long fingers at the last second.

“Woohoo!” You screeched. Ignoring the fans who turned around to frown at you. Understandable. Why were you sitting in the MSBY Black Jackals section and dressed in black and gold merch if you were gonna cheer for the other damn team? You glare right back at them and slurp on your empty drink. The action only reminds you that you’re kind of hungry.

Inunaki bumps it back up all the same. Not surprising considering how slow and weak dinks are, but you gasp and groan aloud with the rest of the fans when Atsumu immediately tries to dump the ball back over the net. The play is messy and his hands are easy to read. Suna springs back up and spikes it down before the two even have a chance to tussle over it.

The buzzer rings and the EJP Raijin are awarded the point.

“Now that’s a failure of a setter dump if I ever saw one. Not what you usually expect from a player like Miya.”

“He does seem to be off his game today— oh, and there it is. Coach Foster is subbing in another player.”

“It’s only the second set, and the Jackals did take the first. There’s plenty of time for him to cool off and get back on the court to show us some of his monster serves.”

The commentators switch to talking about the serving skills of the various players at today’s game, which you don’t bother to stick around for. You did come to see Atsumu, after all. No point in staying if he’s not on the court.

You gather your hair in a low ponytail and tie it back, put your jacket back on, and make sure you have your wallet and phone still. All secure.

The stadium isn’t one you’re used to, so you refer to the map in the concrete hallway. The exit closest to the station is the north one and you’re at the southeast. It’s only when you turn to go that you realize you don’t know whether to go left or right.

“Well, it is just a giant circle,” You mutter. “Doesn’t really matter which way.”

From further inside, you can hear the buzzer go off one, two three times, signaling the end of the set. “That was quick.” The halls flood immediately and you’re forced to slow down and trudge through, rather than hyperwalk like you usually would. This whole trip is turning out to be one inconvenience after another. Atsumu is off his game. You’re hungry. People in this crowd keep bumping into you.

“Hey lady, get in line like the rest of us.” One asshole grunts and you reflexively scowl at him and the five brats he’s with. It drops from your face. If you had to deal with five kids under the age of ten all by yourself, you’d be grumpy too.

“Sorry, m’bad.” Curious, (and still hungry) you check what it is they’re in line for. Immediately, you’re in a better mood. Skirting the line, you hop over the gate and swipe some onigiri right out of the display box.

“Oi! What the hell are you— Oh, [y/n].”

“Hey there, stranger! Fancy meeting you here.” In two massive, disgusting, and arguably impressive bites, you swallow the onigiri (which is in no way, bite sized) and pluck the baseball cap off his head.

“Hiii, welcome to Onigiri Miya, what can I get for you today?” You ask, pulling your ponytail through the hat and bumping your hip with Osamu’s. The old man isn’t all that disturbed by the abrupt change in cashier and prattles on a list of items long enough to feed a battalion. You’re quick to click it into the POS and nod your head to the order printer that’s situated further back in their makeshift workstation. “I’ve got this. Go do your thing.” He rubs his hat hair sheepishly. He wasn’t planning on taking it off today. "Here's your receipt, sir. Please pick up your order at the station to your left. Good afternoon, it’s lovely to have ya here at Onigiri Miya, whatcha cravin’?”

“That’s it? What else did she say? Where’d she go after? When did she leave?” Atsumu’s hands buried themselves in his hair, practically pulling it out by the roots.

“I don’t know! Um… The rush came after the second set, I think? N’she left right after. I assumed she just went back in ta watch the game!”

“But she didn’t say anything weird?”

“No! We were so busy I barely said two words to ‘er!” Osamu had never seen his brother look so frantic.

“I’m going back to the police.” He rasped out.

— — —

At the station, Detective Kano looks over your file.

CASE: Missing Persons

FULL NAME: Miya [y/n]

BIRTHPLACE: Sapporo

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Osaka

Looking at it plainly, the answer is clear. As much as his subordinate and your husband don’t want to believe it, you’ve left. Nobody took you or forced you. The reason could be anything. You got bored or felt stifled in your marriage, (it did say you two had gotten married at twenty. That’s awfully young to make a lifelong commitment) you met another man, (always a possibility) or it could be that you were running for your life from an abusive piece of shit. Your case wouldn’t be the first like that and nor would it be the last. He didn’t care how ‘worried’ your husband appeared to be. For all he knew, the bastard could just be worried about people finding out and it ending his career.

"Oi, Tanigashi.” He barked. The rookie’s head shot up. “We find any bodies in the past couple days?”

“Time frame?” She asked, already typing away.

“Last seen on Tuesday, the fourteenth”

“Male? Female? What else, ya gotta help me out here.”

“Twenty two year old female.”

She hummed. “Tourist?”

He shook his head.

“Is she a short emo meets Harajuku model typa person?” She sighed, turned the monitor in his direction.

He sighed. “Nope. Sorry fer wastin’ your time. Get back to work.”

“Detective?” The office secretary popped his head in the door. “The statements you ordered just came in. Should I print them out for you?”

“Yeah, thanks kid.” Kano heaved himself out of his seat and cracked his bones. Years on the force and keeping up with full contact Karate were starting to get to him. Maybe he should take his daughters advice and take up Tai Chi or Yoga.

He crinkles open a wrapper and pops the gum in his mouth, reading the evidence as it’s freshly warm off the machine.

The bank statements aren’t anything out of the ordinary. You’ve withdrawn everything from your personal account. The joint account has been left alone. He jots down a note. ‘Set financial alert for suspicious activity.’

This way he’ll know if one of you tries to remove the other from the account. Again, he noted that you hadn’t withdrawn anything from the joint. As his spouse, you were legally entitled to it. And with Atsumu’s fat check from three seasons of pro sports under his belt, it wasn’t like he would miss a little bit all that much.

If anything, it told the detective that you didn’t hate him. Had you wanted him to suffer, it would be easy to empty the accounts and leave him broke.

“Rule’s out abuse.” He mumbles. Unless you were afraid of retribution should he find you. Though with how thorough you were being, (phone left behind. bank account empty. social media untouched) something told him you didn’t have any plans to be found.

Kano sighs, flipping through more pages and organizing them as he goes.

“This just gets more and more complicated.” He stops. “Hey, kid. Where’s the health report?”

He paled, worried he had missed something. “Ummmmmmmmm.” His fingers click across his email. “Looks like the hospital needs a formal report before releasing any information. Sorry, I’ll get right on that.”

— — —

Tucked away behind more wealthy and more flashy neighborhoods, hidden and huddled by a ring of trees, the only way you could ever know the Miya household was there was if you had been there before.

Which you had.

Ducked below a hill off the main road, it’s a modest split level house which seemed a lot smaller when you were younger. Then again, it had been inhabited by both the boys, their mom, and all the people they attracted. Which happened to be a lot. Despite being more than a little rude, Atsumu and Osamu were always surrounded by people wanting to be their friend.

You park in the driveway and enter through the back door on the porch, which has been unlocked since you first started visiting when you were fifteen.

“Toyo! It’s [y/n]. You here?” You called, walking through the door. No answer.

You walked through the kitchen and down the six steps to the main level.

“Toyo? You in there?” Politely soft, but loud enough to be heard, you knocked on her door. Still nothing.

You swung the door open.

“To—” Surrounded by tissues, old bowls of food, and shivering, was Miya Toyo in all her glory. “Gosh.” You whispered. “I knew you were sick, but this is ridiculous.”

Quietly, you grabbed the heating pad in her nightstand drawer and plugged it in, setting it next to her on the bed. Then, gently pulling the covers up and smoothing them out. Not that it mattered. The woman slept like a rock. You wondered if she had always dealt with being sick like this: alone, with no one to care for her.

Then you were headed back towards the kitchen. The door to Toyo’s room was carefully shut. You didn’t want your noise to wake her up. On the way back, you shuddered. No wonder she was sick, she kept the house colder than an icebox.

You made a pit stop at the boy’s room, sliding open a closet door, grabbing a hoodie, and smelling it.

“Hmm… Yeah, that’s Atsumu.” You recognized and quickly pulled it on. The man threw a fit anytime you wore Osamu’s clothes, so you had learned to differentiate the two. You chuckled. That was one of the ways you had figured out he had a thing for you.

A second pair of socks was also stolen. Yours were much too thin to keep your toes from falling off. “Hmm hmmm. Hmm hm, hmmm hm.” You hummed absentmindedly as you switched on the kettle and searched through the pantry and fridge for ideas on what to make.