#that you left town and had someone else deliver him a statement | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xxsmokeyy · 4 years ago

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Levi x Drug Dealer! Reader (F) The Lunatic And Her Dog

genre: smut, canonverse — Levi’s early recruitment

summary: being a former thug, the new soldier is given a task to ingratiate himself, finding an old associate from his past along the way.

tw: vices (drugs, cigarettes), rough sex

wc: 12,039 holy fuck (smut is only latter half)

“Coderoin. A strong, sweet, and highly addictive drug that’s been circulating in Stohess District for about four years or so,” the Commander says, voice gruff as he explains the content of the unwrapped paper filled with azure tablets.

Coderoin. Levi thinks he’s heard of that thing not long before. He just can’t quite put his finger on it.

“The Military Police Brigade failed to capture the primary smuggler of this substance multiple times, and it’s only recently come to their notice that it’s gotten reformulated to a liquid solution,” he continues, pinching one of them in his fingers, rolling it back and forth to study its appearance.

Levi can only stand back in ennui, the lack of interest reverberating from his aura. What the fuck is he supposed to do with that information?

Erwin places the tablet back to the paper, propping his palms on the tabletop, and stares deep into Levi’s unamused eyes.

“You’ll have to hunt this drug dealer down.” The curt order comes. Levi cocks a brow in confusion, wondering why the blond would make him do such thing.

“That’s the MP’s job. I thought I joined here to kill those filthy titans, what are you going on about?” he quizzes in confusion.

Erwin sighs, lids shutting close before he massages his temples. “The higher-ups are still not exactly in favor of your recruitment in the army, and as much as you hate buttering people up, you’ll have to deal with this case to secure your postion,” he makes intelligible, getting into the details so to clarify things out.

The raven haired man before him listens intently with a permanent scowl on his face, arms crossed over each other. He’s most definitely not liking the idea of seeking those damn swines’ goodwill. Just when he decided to trust the guy.

“You’ll earn Darius Zackly’s approval once you catch the little felon,” Erwin speaks truthfully. Of course, the Supreme Commander who so hates him, of all people. “It’s just this once. Trust me, you’ll have no more problems with your stay if you solve this case,” he even adds to convince the man. Not that there’s any way around this matter. Levi has to do this to prevent further threats in his position and to clear his reputation as well, by hook or by crook.

“You basically want me to suck up their asses,” he concludes, not a question, more of a full decisive statement. The Commander grunts his affirmative response, still getting used of his soldier’s sharp tongue.

“Tch. To hell with that.”

—

The afternoon later, he’s walking on the stony pavements of Stohess District, left with no choice but to follow the Commander’s orders.

Ever since the death of his last friends, Farlan and Isabel, just a few weeks back, things have gotten ridiculously out of hand regarding his enlistment. It almost arrived to a point where he’s wanted in court for seniors to debate whether he can stay up top or should be sent back to the Underground, considering his heavy crimes.

Holding a poster in hand, he studies the illustration keenly. It says the words WANTED: Notorious Drug Lord in big, thick, and bold letters. In the sketched picture is a person wearing a hood. From what he’s told, the wanted criminal has been in the hide for years now, but never once left the district.

“That man never shows himself. That portrait is from a witness in a pub near a shanty town. Some say he often appears wearing a cloak.” That’s what a Military Police officer said to him when he asked for the dealer’s whereabouts.

A man? He squints a little to see the image better.

It’s a bit difficult to determine since it’s only a roughly sketched side profile with a hood worn, blocking the hair, but he’s sure as hell those are certainly not eyes of a man, looking ultimately feminine and provocative. He doesn’t know, but those eyes are somewhat achingly familiar. And those plump lips that held a suggestive smile? He’s fully convinced that it’s a woman.

“A woman? That’s in no way a fair lady. Women here in Stohess stay at home and polish their husbands’ boots.” That’s what the Military Police officer said as well when he told it’s a woman.

Fucking sexists. Not that he cares, though.

Levi stops by the said pub, pushing on the saloon doors before walking to a table of three men, boisterously laughing like crazy. It’s dark and warm inside, the trademark ambience of local bars eating up the whole place. “Any of you seen this guy?” he lazily asks, showing the piece of paper to their faces.

Their eyes dart on the illustration before all of them fall silent, throwing looks at each other, and Levi can swear he could hear the rusty gears in their pea sized brain turn.

When they keep quiet, he almost surmises they turned mute upon seeing him and is about to leave them alone, finding them completely useless. He just wants to finish this task, and quick.

“Heard ya were a nasty criminal in the Underground,” the guy on his left comments and drinks the beer at hand, briefly pausing, “ya can’t seriously be turnin’ y’er back on that kinda past,” he smugly continues.

Levi’s brows twitch in irritation. How is that relevant to what he asked?

“Just answer the damn question,” he orders assertively and slams the paper onto their tabletop. The guys exchange gazes once again like it’s some sort of stupid inside code.

“What makes ya think ya can fool us? We know you’ll arrest us off the bat if we answer, young’un,” the man continues, his company still speechless. What, is he the leader of their pack or something?

The way they stare him down with the most condescending eyes is ticking him off to ridiculous measures, he could’ve knocked them out cold one by one already if not for the fact that they obviously know something, and nobody else is in the pub other than them and the staff.

“I don’t give two shits about your work. I’m not asking for you, I’m looking for this guy right here,” he jabs a finger into the poster, causing every one of them to look at it once more.

“I ain’t convinced—”

Levi has had enough of their refusal and decides to pull out his knife, kick the very chair the garrulous man is sitting on to drop him on the ground, beer spilling everywhere, before using the dirty sole of his boot to shove the man’s cheeks against the wooden floor.

He kneels down on his right knee, his other foot still stepping on the man’s face, and points the tip of his freshly sharpened knife just a few centimeters from his eyeball, which earns him a whimper of surprise.

“Gonna stop yakking any minute now?” Levi asks. It’s a bit surprising to him that the bartender of the pub didn’t meddle the whole time for pressing on his customers, oddly similar to the lukewarm nature of his hometown.

The two men freeze in fear, afraid that if they do anything to counter the soldier’s menace, their good friend might suffer and go blind. How worthless.

After a couple more seconds, the old geezer eventually gives in and speaks. “That’s our dealer,” he admits, voice weak and shaky. Levi cocks a brow and listens, finally getting the information he‘s aiming for.

“Guy’s been selling drugs that originated from the Underground,” he adds.

“Coderoin?”

“Yeah. He never shows up to us buyers, only sends brokers to deliver.”

“That’s not a man,” Levi corrects again, slowly getting convinced it’s someone he knows from way back. The descriptions about the wanted dealer and the way she arranges things precisely match, not to mention the poster looking exactly like her.

“I told you I won’t end up in brothels, Levi. I created something, and it’s doing great,” she says with a proud smile painted on her colored lips.

“What is it?”

“Coderoin.”

But the soldier only sounds out of his tree in the listeners’ ears, and they immediately speak to nullify his scarcely credible conspiracy theory. “There’s no way. Women here in Stohess—”

Yeah, he gets it. If they don’t believe it then let it be. See, this is why they haven’t caught the culprit for the past years, because they’re looking for a damn male.

“Where was she last seen?” Levi asks, completely dismissing their words, but the guy tries to oppose the small detail once again. “That’s a man—“

“Where was she last seen?” he repeats, cutting off his hostage’s words while he flattens with his boot the man’s cheeks in such a way as to crush his skull, emphasizing what really is important here and what he’s actually asking for. Levi ignores how the poor guy yelps in pain, waiting for intel he can benefit from.

“I don’t know!” he truthfully says, face already deforming from the forceful contact, having difficulty breathing.

“She lives at the skid row,” the bartender chimes in as he wipes on a glass, turning Levi’s head his way. Someone who knows her real identity, huh?

“How do you know?” he keeps his foot down and quizzes, looking for the authenticity in his words. The runt might be fooling him for all he knows, a trap to lure him in.

“I live there,” he simply says. “I don’t have business with her so it won’t be bad if I rat out on her,” he shrugs and turns his back to return to working. The guys listen, puzzled about what they’re talking about.

The ravenhead thinks for a moment, then rising to this heels, kicking away the head he was previously pulverizing before heading out the bar to make off.

In the end, none of them was substantial but the barkeep. And in Levi’s humblest opinion, the guy whom he mostly talked to should drop his so-called friends who didn’t even have the guts to drag their pal out of his plight, being one who gets rid of ineffective people himself.

He looks up at the gloomy afternoon skies once he exits, the clouds moving as he thinks about a variety of stuffs from his past. Envisioning and etching into his brain the familiar silky locks, rose red lips, and a pair of sultry eyes, he then starts walking.

Now, to find you.

—

With the help of the villagers’ directions, he’s arrived at the said skid row by foot. It surprises Levi a lot, having not expected to see a number of resemblances between the Underground and the surface. The visible corruption is no different from down there, with certain rundown areas openly exposed, just a couple blocks away from extravagant neighborhoods. That just goes to show that people’s amoral natures don’t change wherever they go.

He scans his eyes around, studying the dark and uninviting alleyways, the narrow paths, and the compressed townhouses. It’s almost as if the sun refuses to shine here.

This place isn’t any less than a junkyard, he thinks, coming from someone who has just escaped from one.

He takes a step forward to head to the flat where you apparently reside, only to get stopped by a bunch of gangsters, another guy putting his hands on Levi’s shoulders. An animal touching him with filthy fingers, something he hates the most.

“Where do you think you’re going, kid?” the insect says as he looks down on the soldier’s short stature, showing not a droplet of respect. “What’s a scout soldier doing here? There ain’t no titans here, boy!” There’s nothing they love to ridicule more than suicidal people under the disguise of a uniform.

He immediately uses his clean hands that would unfortunately be dirtied as he removes the assaulter’s arm away from him, squeezing it with great force before twisting the whole limb around with full intentions to dislocate it.

The man screeching in pain, Levi gives him a good kick in the face, causing him to fall to the ground, unconscious. Of course, there’s three more left standing. Even if they’re rendered speechless and horrified, he still can’t let bothersome runts on the loose.

One of the delinquents attempts to swing a fist at him, a sorry excuse for a punch by the way, only to get hit right in the guts, disgusting spit flying everywhere. The other tries to slash a knife, which he only snatches away with nimble fingers before hitting a nerve on the neck to knock the guy out cold.

The last one, hairline already receding and looking grey, tries to hit him with a bat. It’s a pitiful sight to look at, really, how they all think they could give him a good beating when they approached him. He crouches down to dodge the weapon, dragging his dominant leg on the floor to kick sweep the old fart off of his toes, head falling against the solid concrete.

Dusting his hands to rid himself of the muck he gained from fighting them, Levi stands upright in vexation and observes as they either squirm or doze off on their own. A flock of vagrants that has got to learn how to keep their hands to themselves.

The thing is, he has had enough of drunkards trying to get on his way. He just wants to get his job done, bring you to those impotent MP’s and get this reputation Erwin kept saying to secure his position for a lifetime.

When finally sets foot on your alleged doorstep, he tries for three knocks, waiting for a response. As much as he wants to finish this task, he doesn’t want to barge in your suite, if possible, because he’d also hate it if it’s done to him. He tries again, focusing to catch with his ears any faint sound.

Minutes pass by and he turns the knob open to find out it’s unlocked the whole time, all his deliberations of keeping still and going down the drain.

It’s quiet and empty.

Levi freely enters, keeping an eye out for attackers, if there are. It’s small, but enough for one person.

He goes with the assumption that you live alone, and maybe don’t have any flings. He still remembers how you latch onto different guys back in the day to have them arrange deals for you. Yeah, you had a way with your words, especially towards men. The epitome of a social butterfly.

But maybe it’s not like that anymore, now that you’re in a city like this with rich people out and about.

How did you wind up here in the first place?

He keenly observes as he goes further in. To your credit, the place is relatively clean. No scattered trash, no messy clothing, and the furniture are well organized. Well, that’d be essential to make an innocent front and hide your junk evidence. But still, impressive.

Nothing really seems malicious at first glance. So far, no one’s coming out, and there are no drugs to be found.

He stumbles upon two more closed doors. He finds that one of them is a bathroom, and the other your bedroom. Aside from those, there’s nowhere else to go. He enters your personal space, looking for something peculiar.

Your bed is fixed, sheets folded nicely. You had a study desk, and a bookshelf. Based from the covers’ titles, they’re all about science. Tch. It’s a dead giveaway. No matter how much you tried to make an oh-so normal living space, those books would be a suspicious lead.

Now what? You’re nowhere to be seen.

Is she home?

He looks around the room looking for an ashtray or even a fire because somehow, it reeks of burning cigarettes, like it’s being consumed at the moment.

Something finally clicks inside of him. Of course, you’re a damn drug lord. An infamous one, at that. You’ll need someplace to hide once all hell breaks loose, and someplace to hide your stuff.

Levi uses his boot to lift the carpet he’s currently stepping on, and finds, just what he expects, a trapdoor. Clever, but not too much.

He then vigorously kicks the door open, which nearly bursts it off of its hinges, if not already. It swings down loosely, losing its assistive joints. He ignores the wooden ladder provided and instead jumps down, dropping on his knees.

“Now you gotta fix that,” says a soft and seductive voice that is definitely no stranger the young man.

Levi raises his gaze and finally finds you, sitting on a chair in the opposite end of a long presidential table, smoking a mint cigarette, and the stench reaches his nostrils. That’s where the ashy pong was coming from.

The secret chambers appear almost pit black from the lack of natural light if not for the candle sconces built on the walls all around, and the lone lantern situated on the table.

He scrutinizes you for a moment, meeting your luscious, glowing eyes. Your hair is styled just the way he remembers, luxuriant, untied, and flowing in sync with your movements. Your plump lips shaded red, fierce like how you want it. Your figure voluptuous by your feminine puff sleeved dress, black front laced corset over top hugging at your curves. For a dress so dainty, you ultimately still looked provocative.

Actually, he kind of understands how it’s unbelievable for such a lady to be a criminal of ill repute. Although nothing much has changed with you external-wise, your youthful attributes have only matured beautifully, and you’ve indeed grown up to be an enchanting woman.

“It’s me. You’ve found me,” you claim, feeling his strong stare burning into your skin. What, does he not recognize you now?

It’s totally the other way round. Every single one of your physical features under the warm candlelight’s reflection keeps rekindling memories inside his head, some just flat out inappropriate.

“So you are the goddamn drug dealer,” he states, not any less than a confirmation.

“Drug dealer is a bit brusque, don’t you think?” you comment with a smile. Anything but to be called a drug dealer. How cheap.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I prefer to go with narco hustler, rolls off the tongue just right,” you suggest. It sounds plain dumb to Levi’s ears, you had zero taste. “Okay, maybe it doesn’t,” you take back upon seeing his seriously bored expression. He has always been one so hard to read, but now he just looks evidently repulsed.

Levi stays standing across of you, resting his arm on top of the other, and leans back against the ladder. Maintaining respective distance, he decides to linger for a bit, intrigued by what stories you must got.

“Rumor has it you’re one of them now. Guess it’s true,” you posite as you observe his physique, wearing a uniform jacket with the wings of “freedom”. Couldn’t he have joined the MP’s out of the three? Lame.

The young man watches back as you lift your wrist up and bring the stick to your delicate lips, inhaling a lungful before blowing the smoke upwards, and he could easily feel how you held yourself up with superiority. Nothing new with the headstrong woman that you are.

“What the fuck are you doing up here?” he inquires right away, genuinely curious of your sudden disappearance years ago. He knew full well you weren’t dead, but he never got his hands on news about you.

“Huh? What the fuck are you doing up here, too? You surely downgraded from being a crime boss to a pongo’s dog. Seriously?” you retort cheekily. Last time you checked, he was doing well with his gang, couldn’t he have stayed that way?

He massages the temples of his forehead with closed eyes. Your words are making him think back to his decisions, but not too deeply. He reluctantly contemplates if it’s alright telling you things, but chooses to do so. You had a spot in his life, too, no matter how small. And he’s going to arrest you anyway.

“Lot of complications. It was all supposed to be a job to kill the Section Commander then we’d get granted citizenship…” he trails off, unsure of whether to go on or stop there, “but things took a turn.”

“Hmm?” you hum, waiting for his continuation.

He stays silent and refuses to say a word.

“Alright then. Well what about… who was it? Farlan and Isabel?” you ask cluelessly, thinking if you got their names right.

He sighs. It was exactly what he was trying to avoid. “They’re in the Survey Corps now as well?” you quiz, partially interested. You already know the answer. Who would leave their beloved boss? You just know for sure it won’t be them.

“They’re gone,” he averts his gaze, expertly hiding his emotions away with thick pride.

Your eyes largen a little in realization. “Oh. Sorry.” He catches you put out your cigarette by prodding its cherry into the glass ashtray. There’s still about half left but you paid no extra mind, and it says a lot about your well heeled state.

Enough about him. “What exactly happened to you?” Levi questions, and you prop your elbows on the tabletop, interlacing your fingers together before resting your chin on them.

“Bought citizenship,” you start off, never taking your glance off him. He‘s hot all right, still a sight for sore eyes. Heavily improved, even. It has been five years, after all. You admit, he aged like the finest wine there is.

“A pain in the pockets, yes. But worth it.” You pucker your lips and furrow your brows together upon remembering your old situations.

“Underground folks were becoming cheapskates day by day! Can you believe it? They’re trying to buy two-fifty for, what, five bronze coins? My stuff are as expensive as your maneuvering gear, you know!” you complain, memories of being wrongly paid years ago flashing through your brain.

That’s life. At least you’re well off now. That’s what’s important.

He rakes his eyes around the room and finds stacks and stacks of packaged tablets, same ones as those Erwin showed him.

“Coderoin, huh?” he comments, testing the word on his tongue. Nothing special with the name, probably came from the scientific components. He doesn’t give a rat’s ass.

The warm temperature from the window restricted room urges him to remove his jacket, and so he eventually does. You try not to raise both your eyebrows in captivation as you see the outlines of his muscular torso tracing through his clothes, his veiny forearms exposed by his cuffed shirt.

“I haven’t released it yet, but I just finished formulating a liquified version to easily shoot it up the veins for a more elongated and ecstatic experience,” you proudly brag to divert your attention as well, and Levi cocks a brow in confusion. Haven’t released it yet?

“The MP’s already know there’s a new formula,” he informs, recalling what the Commander said when he was educating him about it earlier.

“What? Already?” you ask, gasping in surprise. It’s a given that word spreads around here fast, but you’re doing your best to work in confidentiality. Some big-mouthed brokers of yours must be babbling.

“Yeah.”

“See how famous I am?” You giggle, letting the issue slide.

“Everyone thinks you’re a man.”

“What?” you ask again, completely scandalized, eyes widening in repulsion. They cannot be serious. You never knew that! Not even your associates told you!

It’s a bit amusing to him how that almost looks like it matters to you the most. Do you even know why he’s here? You don’t seem to be questioning his out of nowhere presence.

“You’re a drug abuser. It’s natural for people to think that way,” he says, eyeing your reactions.

“That’s mean! I’m not an addict. In fact, I don’t even do those often,” you oppose a matter-of-factly. It’s not half a lie, you probably had one the past week, but aside from that, you never took it recently. This stuff is for the customers to abuse. You don’t really have an avid addiction to it.

Honestly speaking, being one for dirty felonies ending just a couple months back, he couldn’t care less what kind of profession you had, as long as people find their own way to live, he’d immediately—but only mentally—give kudos to them. It’s hard enough trying to survive in a corrupt system.

You lived all by yourself back then. You were a tough and independent one, he’d give you that. You helped him with particular deals. Important ones.

In actuality, it’s solely because of you that he got his hands on certain armaments like the ODMG. It was hard to obtain those, seeing as it’s a highly illegal trade and costs an arm and a leg. Though on the plus side, it made his stealings more convenient and less a pain in the ass.

But he wouldn’t say you’re good friends, nor are you on the same gang. Associates, he would say. At times, something even more than associates. Oh, it’s not anything close to romantic. Just something beneficial on both sides.

“I mean at least I’m not a squaddie now, playing soldier like you,” you add, playfully mocking him. Levi throws you a glare of the same energy. It’s not like he wanted this. He’s got no choice, it’s better than going back to that sunken town, alone at that matter.

“You don’t show up to people here,” he surmises from what he learned. As you rise to your feet and walk to the piles of boxes, you fail to notice how he gives your form a runover, from head to toe, his eyes involuntarily staying on some shapely areas.

“This is where I bring my brokers. I’m not going face-to-face with my dear buyers now. What if they sell out on me? Can’t trust people nowadays.” It��s true, because back there, everyone was a criminal in their own ways. You grab a small bag of the tablets and turn around to show him, dangling it mid-air.

“But I’m telling you, people here are as generous as lords. It’s basically easy money everyday,” you say and throw him the drawstring bag, which he catches with one hand in maximum proficiency, the action causing his arms to flex a little. Oh, those muscles. Suave.

“You’re living in a dumpster.”

“It’s called a sentimental value,” you dismiss.

Levi pours some out and takes a moment to observe the packed drugs on his palm, the blue color even and smooth. He’s never found himself drawn to this kind of thing, but he understands the usage. Something to escape from reality for a short period of time.

“I never expected you to turn on your past, of all people,” you mindlessly comment, causing him to look at you with furrowed brows. Though you never meant that the bad way and just wanted to speak your mind, your choice of words still strike a nerve from within him.

Why the fuck are people on the surface keep acting like angels as if they’re any better? At this point, he’d prefer his hometown people over some half assed drug addicts.

This should be enough for today. He carelessly chitchatted for long, almost forgetting his true purpose of being here. It’s too bad he has to ruin your oh-so perfect life. Well, there’s not much he can do about that as it’s how the cookie crumbles. Dragging people down to rise up the ranks is part of the norm in this wretched society, it’s just unfortunate he has to do it to you.

“Say, what if you join me? Leave the Corps and let’s team up. You can run the errands, and I stay here to formulate,” you continue to propose, fully unaware that you ticked him off just a second ago, bringing him back to earth.

“I can’t. Apparently, I’m a soldier now,” he straight up rejects and starts to walk up to you, handcuffs ready by his belt.

Taken aback by his deadpan refusal, you tilt your head in an attempt to understand. “Well then, if that’s what you want.”

“What I want is for you to come with me,” the soldier finally admits, showing the restraining shackles he has at hand.

Realization dawns upon you, and you feel a bit dense. Oh, right. He did welcome himself into your home, completely unannounced.

A dry and bitter chuckle leaves your throat continuously, dissolving into a long thread of laughter that echoes around the spacious room, resembling those of a mentally deranged woman. Levi’s forehead knots in a mix of puzzlement and irritation as he waits for you to calm down.

Your fit of entertainment starts to boil down, tears of satiric bliss filling your ducts. You wipe them off timidly, building up the manner of being a prim and proper lady. “Sorry… that was funnier than I expected,” you apologize, and he couldn’t quite understand what you want to come across with. He waits for your explanation.

“Buzz off, will you?” you ask of him once you finish composing yourself.

“What?” the man quizzes.

Your face turns dead serious as you fish a tiny pouch from your dress’ pockets, throwing it lazily to the table, contents spilling mid air due to the loosened tie. An abundance of golden coins shower all over the place and fall suspendedly to the ground.

“I’m telling you to fuck off. Now,” you don’t flash him even the smallest of smiles as you curtly give him the order.

You’re bribing him.

And fuck, did you drive him round the twist, he has never felt so insulted his whole life.

Is it because you’re doing well than him now despite the honorability of occupation? Is it because it’s coming from someone he knows from the past? Is it because of your tone so ludicrously condescending it’s making every single drop of blood in his body boil?

“Need more? Why don’t we negotiate upstairs with the amount that will send you away?” you carry on with casting aspersions on him.

What a jackass. After all you’ve done for him? There’s nothing you hate more than shameless traitors, and this guy in front of you doesn’t bat an eye about being one.

Meanwhile, you were rubbing to his face the looming difference between his stability and yours. And of course, it doesn’t matter whose reputation is better, because both of you were miscreants at one point in life. The only distinction is: you gladly kept on with that line of work, and he was forced with his.

Levi takes big strides to reach your form, dropping both the jacket and the drugs he was holding. He’s furious, but he refuses to show. All he wants now is for you to shut your filthy mouth.

He lunges at you and slams you against the wall, wrapping his fingers around your neck. An involuntary whimper slips past your lips, and it certainly feeds his ego to see you so helpless. “Shut your damn mouth,” he bellows, tone imposing the dangers you could get from rubbing him up the wrong way.

You’re not about to give him what he wants. He’s barking up the wrong tree here, treating you so indiferrently for what? For letting him in and being hospitable? For offering him a generous partnership? Can you believe this guy? He’d throw your acquaintance off the window for his own sake. Selfish crab.

“Hate to see your ally so successful?” you attempt to breathe out, one hand trying to unclasp his fingers, one hand aiming to claw your nails at his face. He slaps it away before you can make contact and increases pressure.

Your eyes well up from the suffocating pain as he robs you of air supply, choking you tightly and pressing roughly. Crap!

“That’s—all you got?” you struggle to challenge him, same time trying to pull the slightest amount of oxygen into your lungs you can catch on.

Your dare does absolutely nothing but piss him off. Wow, you’re a bitch to try and control. Levi has the means to tighten his grip. It doesn’t even matter to the MP’s if he brings you dead as long as he can hand over the evidence. But he won’t go that far, because that far would be killing you off.

Staying that way for a moment longer, he examines your facial expression, still brave and never surrendering. He then lets go of you, but only by throwing you to the hard ground. Your back hits the flooring and you squint your eyes in sharp ache, all the while desperately breathing for any available air.

“Rot in hell,” you curse at him in great detestation. Lying back, you gently caress your neck as if to heal the reddened skin from the harsh force he applied.

Levi sighs, collecting himself, and kneels down in level with your weakened body. Maybe he went too hard on you. He has got to keep his temper at bay.

“Sorry,” he genuinely says. It’s not everyday he says that word, but when he does, he accepts that he’s mistaken. A bit surprised, you peer at him with a bleary vision, finding a scowl on his face as he admits his wrongdoing.

You swear you were ready to laugh it all out and forgive him, if not for the fact that he’s currently grabbing the handcuffs, still determined to arrest you. How sincere of him. What exactly was he apologizing for again?

You wait for him to scoot over, discreetly regaining steady breath as you stay laying down. You’re not the best at countering someone combat wise, but growing up a female in the Underground has taught you a couple moves enough to stall you some time to escape.

As he finally crouches beside you, you jolt up to sit and sling two of your arms around his nape and under his armpit, pulling him towards you before throwing him beside with the strength you can manage to utilize.

When did you learn that move? It baffles Levi a little, but he won’t let you have your way. His weight isn’t something you could overlook, that you’re dragged along with and on top of him. The moment you try to quickly prop yourself up and make a run, he grabs your waist and rolls over to bring you back down, straddling on top of you.

“I’ll kill you!” you spit to his face, once again feeling betrayed. You never once thought he’d drive you into a corner do this to you.

“That’s cute of you,” he says in graceful sarcasm. You fight him back with a piercing glare, but he only looks back at you with those apathetic, steel grey eyes. Nothing has changed within them, they’re still cold and indecipherable. It matches his personality well.

Apathetic? He can’t be all that bad, he’s just human. He has needs, one way or another.

You stick a hand out to pull his dark locks, and for once, you actually succeed. He hisses in irritation. He should have expected you’d put up a fight, but he doesn’t get why he’s just straight up pissed. Talk about annoying.

He doesn’t expect it when you forcefully yank him in for a deep kiss, the sudden motion causing your lips to crash together, freezing him in place. It’s all just to take him by surprise and then you’d gab the chance to run away in haste. Cheap trick, but worth a shot. If this will work, that is.

Earlier than he can try to push you away, you kick your knee into his abdomen and hurl him aside with all your might, doing your best to head to the ladder leading up to the trapdoor. But Levi is quick on his feet and kicks your leg to make you lose balance. Tripping over yourself, you fall toward the table, your stomach plowing into its side frames. He will never let you escape.

You inwardly curse him for being such a headache. Before you know it, your left arm is rashly held behind your back and you shriek in pain, your cheek shoved down onto the tabletop. Shit. He got you there.

“Can’t you be any gentler?” you ask, voice soft and of forged innocence, which is patently just an attempt to con him. He ignores you and instead starts wearing one part of the handcuffs around your wrist from behind. You think of anything to get yourself out of this. Chuckling dryly, “Hey… I told you already. Let’s talk things out,” you woo, but to no avail. Levi twists your arm a bit, not too much, but enough to shut you up. He sure is enraged.

A lock clicks from one of the shackles and you feel the cold steel wrap your frail wrist. It’s happening, the most humiliating moment for a criminal. You’re all tapped out of ideas—

with your limited field of vision, you scan your eyes around what you can see, finding a trail of drugs scattered on the ground. It must be from when he launched at you and tried to strangle you to death. Although you still don’t know why he did that, you bury the thought to the back of your head to come up with a plan.

—except one.

A smile creeps up your lips, one that appears when you just figured out something clever. Alright, then. Let’s see what else is enraged.

Not giving him the chance to lock both your hands together, from your held up position, you perk your bum up a little to make a feel for his crotch. Your thick cheeks hit something poking and you giggle in festivity. It so turns out your hunch is right, his bulge is, indeed, straining from inside his pants.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he stops dead in his tracks and questions, more like an order for a valid answer.

With your bended over form being perfectly convenient, you wiggle your ass and stick it up against his obviously aching groin, teasing it even more. It’s a shame you’re both wearing clothes, your titillating movements ending up just mere friction.

“My, my. How long has it been like that?” you jest, voice about half an octave high and femininely suggestive. His brows knit in pique and flips you over to make you face him and to put a halt to your indecent measures. You click your tongue in mock, elbow propped against the table to look up at him.

“What a naughty soldier,” you whisper with a satisfied smirk, and reach a hand out to pull his cravat, yanking him down and in for another kiss. This time, it’s you who won’t let him escape, with nothing else but a nice trick for women to prevail over men.

It makes his hackles raise how you try to enter his mouth with your probing tongue like you’re the one in foremost control. As if he’ll let that happen.

He pushes your tongue back and bites your lower lip, earning him entrance along with a quiet mewl. He then travels your wet cavern with his own, forcefully exploring every inch to show you who’s in charge, like always. There and then, he instantly distinguishes the mint flavored nicotine evenly mixed in with your sweet saliva. It interests him how five years have already passed, and yet you consistently taste the same. Up until here, you never dropped the habit of smoking.

You try to fight back and earn your place, hooking both your heels into his hips to draw him closer. Even if it’s utterly inappropriate and misplaced, you quickly feel your pussy drip with excitement. Everything feels so nostalgic.

Amidst the kiss, his palm begins to roam around your body, from your neck to your chest. Levi finds the corset a hindrance, and he takes note to go back to it later, maybe rip it apart as well.

He resumes exploring your body, from your tummy, to your clothed womanhood. It starts to rile you up and turn you on as he slips his hand under your dress, not bothering to lift it up, just blindly cupping for your sex. When he finally feels your panties, you know for certain he smirked.

“You’re not so frigid yourself,” he comments upon the discovery that your growing wetness is soaking the fabric. He slides one finger against your slit, your undergarment still in between. He gently rubs on it as he sucks on your soft lips, earning him quiet moans in return. What a nasty tease.

When you both pull away for air, you open your eyes to look daringly straight into his grey ones, and while you exchange stares, you also let go of his cravat and grab his hand as if to guide them deeper and further in. He finds that you’re more than just eager when you put his hand inside, now in touch with your intimate skin. He gladly takes your offer and tears your panties away, his vigor making you laugh breathily.

Levi plunges two fingers in without delay, and you yield in defeat, letting him do as he likes. He has no intentions of lurking around the corner. You let your head hang back as he does you with his slick fingers, moaning to your will when he hits your good spots.

He lets his unreasonable hate and anger dissipate into nothingness, allowing himself to be indulgent in giving you pleasure. It’s been so long that this almost serves as your reunion. He doesn’t mind that. Just as long as he keeps in mind his sole purpose of breaking in to take him with you.

The ravenhead watches you spread your legs wider, visibly aching for more as you surrender to him and give him full control over your body. He moves his dexterous fingers in and out, the rhythm exquisite like how you prefer it. It’s like he still memorized you the same. Your responsive hums are tempting and fervid, your bodily movements a subtle indication of a longing. He increases his speed, looking for an angle to rub you up good, and he knows he hit it right when you shudder a little, back falling to the table and grip losing.

He lets on with working his hand, your juices coating his fingertips as he jabs them in deep repeatedly. It’s a flattering sight to see you so lost and vulnerable singlehandedly by his mere touch, and he would be lying if he says it doesn’t turn him on.

Your sweet, melodious moans resonate inside the whole of the chambers, music to Levi’s ears. Your mouth partly hanging open, eyes in but a permanent daze as you struggle to crack them open. The way he has you going crazy is beautiful. You’re beautiful. Not half-bad-looking for a woman about to approach her thirties.

Out of nowhere, a mood ruining thought crosses his mind. He recalls you saying this place is where you bring your brokers. And since your neighbors haven’t found out your true identity and racket yet, having a clump of men visit your apartment could entirely be misleading.

It’s only natural that they think you’re some kind of courtesan selling your body. Knowing you, you don’t give a flying fuck if people think that, but with him, it doesn’t sit right. Who knows? Maybe you actually humor the same men every once in a while. Just look at what you’re doing now.

A grim expression materializes on his face. No, he’s not jealous. But in all honesty, he wants what’s his to stay his.

You couldn’t think of anything as he harshly thrusts his fingers into you, your body’s consciousness focusing only on the uprising pleasure, but when you’re this close to coming, all of a sudden, he pulls them out at once, grabs your hands and finally locks both your wrists together with the handcuffs before pinning them on top of your head.

Cruelly left hanging, a wave of disappointment rushes over your veins. “You’ve got to be fucking joking me,” you whine, genuinely annoyed as you’re already fully installed and waiting for your explosion. Did he do that on purpose? Yes. But to your surprise, he doesn’t do anything to lift you up or bring you with him to jail.

Brows furrowed and eyes dark, Levi unties your corset’s lacing in a rapaciously eager manner, harshly pulling down the garter of your neckline to let your boobs bounce free. Your eyes widen a little when he pulls your skirt up to gain thorough access of your fruity folds. You didn’t expect him to continue on, with you restrained, even.

“Just like the good old days, huh?” you tease, voice awash with prurience. Although this reminds you of those days, this is surely going to be a new experience. While handcuffed? You love it, and just thinking about him pounding you out as you’re unable to lay your hands on him makes your neck hairs straighten in great arousal. You’re totally into this!

He’s suddenly reminded of years ago when you’d come over to catch up with the latest trades, or simply just bring with you your babbling of the day. Oftentimes, the visit ends up in the bedroom, the couch, the kitchen.

You were both young, both helping fill each other’s primitive needs and desires, not the thinnest string left attached. You handled the whole thing casually, the whole thing being just lustful sex every once in a while. Fuck buddies. That’s what they call it.

Memories of your heated body rubbing up against his, lips messy on one another’s skin, hands everywhere, nude and naked—sometimes still completely clothed, fucking you against the wall, fucking you on the counter, and finally, you kneeling on the floor as you eat him up hungrily. All of those, just five years ago.

He’s only proven you haven’t changed despite the time difference when you kick your kitten heels away like you disregard its price, stretch your right leg out to reach his crotch, your foot making a feel for his huge bulge.

He looks down to his pants, your toes stroking his covered length invitingly as if to provoke it. “You’re one fucking dirty bitch,” he points out upon your indecorous actions, meeting your catlike eyes illuminating nothing but indiscriminate salacity.

“We’re not all that different, see?” you tell, never tearing your gaze off him as you continue moving your foot up and down. He’s straining so bad, almost making you giggle. Come on, Levi. You’re just as aching as me. We could use a quickie.

He sternly grabs your ankle to stop your lewd ways and keeps quiet until you speak. Does he really think he can stop you from acting so dirty? You then bring your chained wrists to your chest, gently massaging your exposed breasts with what space you can manage, giving him a little show you know he can’t resist.

“I mean, just look at you, wearing a cheesy cravat like it’s gonna make you look dignified,” you poke fun at him and laugh, flashing him a grin before seductively licking your lips. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, but is still unable to take his eyes off of your body as you continue to play with your very own mounds.

“Shut up,” he orders, stripping the authority in his tone. Oh… you know him perfectly well. It’ll only take one last trigger for him to fire away and spring into action.

“You shut up and just fuck me,” you demand candidly, the smile in your face disappearing in the blink of an eye.

You like to think he’s one hell of a dog as he listens to your whim, undoes his trousers, only dropping them so far because of his difficult, complicated, and inhibiting harnesses. What a costume. He glares at you when you raise a sly brow at him, cocky expression conveying the words: still wanna be a soldier?

Levi just wants you to shut up for real, and he victoriously does that by pulling your body closer to the end of the table, then practically ramming his huge dick inside you, his massiveness able to cover your whole depth when he mercilessly buries it in. A long and sonorous moan leaves your throat in the utmost pleasure. Shit, he’s so big! Your tight walls are forced to adjust, desperately stretching to adapt to his size.

“Oh, fuck!” you exclaim, throwing your head back to release your emotions, eyes clenching shut in nauseating pain. Overwhelming! Can a man in his age still grow? You didn’t expect this in any way. It sure hurts like a bitch, but that’s just one of the reasons why you love it.

The cadet starts moving in a pace that tells you he won’t be beating around the bush, quick and rough. The only thing you’re worrying about is the soreness that you’ll get once this is finished, because right now—you’ve said it two times—you love it.

His anger seeping as he forces his dick in and out of your fuckhole, Levi finds it an entertaining cabaret as he watches you, your makeshift play consisting of you opening your mouth wide to moan in fervor, whipping your head side to side, eyelids falling while he quickly drives you to the brink of insanity. One bewitching whore, he thinks.

He bucks his hips even faster and spreads your legs wider apart to let you have what you want, violent and aggressive. Like an obedient lady’s man, Levi spoils your carnality by licking his middle and forefinger to rub your engorged clit, his spit helping him circle the most sensitive spot in ease.

You arch your back up in surprise, your nerves receptive in alerting you of the littlest motions. He’s so good. So good that your brain is going blank, unknowing of what to do. When you squirm under him, try to shoot up and search something to hold on for dear life, only to fall back against the table, your manacled hands suddenly add up to the gratifying thrill stirred with powerlessness. It makes Levi smirk for a fleeting second.

Not so free now, are you?

Simultaneously, Levi deepens his thrusts and starts to rubbing your clit directly to intensify the sensation, back and forth, up and down. With fervent eyes, he feasts on your body as it loses control, tits bouncing from his relentless humps, pussy unendingly leaking. Out of reflex, you try to wriggle away, but to no avail. You’re losing your mind by his marvelous stimulation, and you remember just how he feels like before.

The humidity is starting to take over your bodies, and you both feel hotter. The dark room, the rattling of the lantern on the table, sweat beginning to break through your skins, his stifled grunts, your loud wails, both your heads full of lustful desire. Who knew an apprehension would end up like this? Purely lewd. Seems normal to you, though.

The telltale signs of your upcoming orgasm appear. Your walls envelop around him tightly, your moans longer and hitching, your breaths shaky as you catch it and whatnot. The immense pleasure that keeps gradually stacking up inside your veins finally snaps free, and you come with unruly convulsions. Eyeballs rolling to the back of your skull, your cunt contracting around him, he doesn’t stop, and fuck is it overbearing.

His dick reaching the end of you, his merciless thrusts unwavering when you’re obviously trembling uncontrollably, he’s a damn ruthless lad. The amount of spasms you receive is livid, you so wanted to applaud yourself for choosing the perfect guy. Exceptional taste.

Your high eventually tones down and you’re back to awareness. The demon stops moving soon as well, deciding maybe you’ve had enough.

You gasp for breath after losing your grip from the mind boggling experience. It’s been so long since you’ve had amazing sex, and when you say so long, you mean excruciatingly long years. You study him as he looks back at you. Still so dominant, isn’t he? Refusing to get off the same time you do.

Alright. You’ve had enough mindless nooky. Now it’s time to break free from his clutches. From your lied down position, you then proceed to distract him with some ramblings.

“You better not be fucking your comrades like this,” you quip, collecting yourself.

“I’m not like you,” Levi answers and pulls out, thinking about how much men you’ve entertained your whole life. You cock a brow upon hearing his smart assed reply and mock him again, a giggle escaping your mouth, “Gonna keep acting so clean?” He should know not to continue wanting to look like a saint. He’s not any different than you, for shit’s sake.

“You have a screwed up background, Levi. You can’t seriously be thinking your superiors will be in favor of you just because you lick their boots,” you honestly advise. Disgusting. One moment he’s leading his people, then being ordered around the next.

It’s this again. You shamming like you’re so immaculate. He’d prefer it if you get off your high horse.

“I’m giving you a chance, just quit and—“

“If you keep running your damn mouth, I’m going to make use of it,” he cuts you off before you can continue offering him a deal. It’s not that you genuinely believe he’ll go with it, you just want to stall him because you’re only playing by ear. One wrong move and he’ll stop you dead in your tracks.

His words pique your interest. Does he mean that in the sense that you think it is? “Oh yeah? And how?” you push his buttons to give it a shot.

Levi shows you what he means through grabbing you by the nape to yank you up, then dropping you to the floor, pretty face nearly shoved to the concrete. It hurts a tad, your knees hitting the ground roughly, but your eyes almost immediately dart on the bunch of azure tablets scattered everywhere, three of them within your reach. Perfect!

Quickly, you snatch them with both your hands in one fell swoop, and Levi miraculously misses out on your sneaky motions. You hiss a little in pain and close your palms together tightly when he pulls a fistful of your hair to hoist your head up. Forced to make eye contact with him from below, you momentarily meet his gaze brimming of disrespect before he dicks your mouth down with his length.

He pushes your head to his groin and pounds, so deep and so rash that you literally feel him hit the back of your throat. Tears pool from your ducts as you’re forced to take him inside your mouth. But he doesn’t get it wrong, because he knows you like it, of course.

With full intentions to reach his own end and cum on your pretty tongue, he shoves his erection into your warm cavern and tightens his hold on your now messy locks. He eyes you with resounding authority as you’re down on your knees with fettered hands on your lap, dress still on but tits bare and pouching outward from your neckline, looking up at him with glistening eyes like a good, well-behaved girl. It madly turns him on seeing you like that, what a view.

His fierce stale eyes prod you to bravely blink the tears away and independently move to your own will, proceeding to suck him with stupendous obedience. Fine then, you’ll go along with him. Nothing wrong about taking your time.

Levi throws his head back a little from your sudden motion, bobbing your head back and forth in harmony with his pumps, but quickly returns his gaze to you. You gladly eat his whole size without hesitation and keep your body still, nipples fully peaked in eagerness.

You’re always so damn good, just as he remembers. Never going without a challenge, the same lecherous emotions brewing within your orbs, listening to what you’re told. His grunts start to become audible.

“Look at you, sucking like a little slut,” he groans, slowly becoming unable to process things by your turn on serving him gratification. You give him a hum in response, the muffled sound creating a vibration as you continually hollow your mouth wide open against his thickness, sending chills up and down his spine. He inwardly curses, fuck.

Levi untangles his fingers from your strands, rests them on top of your head instead, and stops giving guidance, allowing you to perform well. You know just what to do and how to please him anyway.

You pull away, a loud and satisfying pop ringing inside the enclosed space upon losing connection. Panting, you inhale the air you could to prep yourself, temperate breath ghosting over his dampened skin. Time to take matter into your own devices. You glimpse at your interlaced fingers, clinking of metals reaching your ears. You can work this without using your hands. Let’s give him a show.

Pausing, you adore his intimidating thickness, the glowing pearls of precum impressively still there on its tip. You playfully swathe it with the edge of your tongue and look straight at him with a childlike gaze, the salty taste staining your buds. The sensitive area causes him shudder and shut his eyes closed inadvertently. And it’s rewarding to see him so affected, because this play is more about you controlling his pleasure, less about him being invulnerable. You feel your pussy trickle with desire.

Without any beating around the bush, you angle your neck a little to the right before gingerly taking him inside your mouth once again, closing in inch by inch. When you dauntlessly push forward until you’re on the verge of gagging, his size filled your throat the way you like it. Then, you go back to pumping in and out in a regular pace, sucking the tip harshly every once in a while.

Levi could feel himself approaching, his guttural groans set free and detectable. Fuck, you wanted to stroke him with your hands to add up to his growing euphoria, but you can’t.

This time round Levi is only able to peer at you from his drooping lids, following your every movements, and he finds winsome the way your cheeks lose its original shape due to his cock being inside, your lips lush and full around his shaft, tongue dancing in a way that mirrors the lantern’s fire. Moving in a very devious pace, you run a lick on the underside of his hot, veiny penis, lapping him up like a thirsty bitch. God, you are coy, and it’s taking him every last ounce of his resolve for his body not to react something close to pitiful submission.

It takes him one last blow for him to finally explode, a powerful rush spreading all throughout the ends of his limbs, his balls clenching as he shoots his cum deep inside your chops, to which you willingly gulp down, a satisfied ahh leaving your lungs like your quench for his seed has been solved.

The soldier mindlessly pats your head, and you give him a quiet purr before rising to your feet. We’re not finished yet.

As if your lips are magnetized into his own, you lean in and let them crash together. He answers back just the same, indicating he’s still up for some more. But you shouldn’t put your guard down, you might not know it if he knocks you out all of a sudden.

“You’re still the same nasty whore I know,” he vehemently growls in between the lip locking, intense flame starting to devour his system. “Shut up,” you talkback. You ache to touch him but these irksome shackles are on the way. You choose not to mind it anymore since it’s only a matter of minutes before you leave.

You push him back down to the chair and he sits down in force. “Pull my skirt up,” you order on a whim, and he does as he’s told, holding your skirt for you. You help yourself into the same chair and truss your knees beside his thighs, settling for a convenient position until you’re straddling his front, wrists on the chest’s top rail, then sitting on his fully stiff and awaiting cock. As you spread your laps apart to aim and sink down, you swear you almost went insane.

A lengthy, strenuous hum slips out your lips upon letting your tight cunt engulf his big dick. “Fuck,” you mutter, whipping your head back in zeal. You should try not to lose your mind or else.

Your stretched out neck grants him the opportunity to nibble at the delicate skin, sucking intensely to create a mark of ownership, the tangy flavor due to the thin film of sweat covering your skin. It stings a little when he nips, but almost tickling at the same time. You mewl and let Levi finish his job and lower your forehead to meet his glance.

It doesn’t take you long before returning to crashing into him, his distinct taste amusingly addictive to you. The kisses sloppy and unorganized, you begin to roll your hips up and down, and he thrusts upward to meet you like an animal in heat. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” he breathes out low.

You pull away to gasp for wind, chest stuttering and ragged from your unfaltering humps. “I know,” you brag and pause. The near to none distance between you two allows you to study his facial features and point out what changed by the years.

Hmm, not a lot really. He still looks twenty-four with his superbly chiseled jaw, slightly parted inviting lips, narrow nose, and the slim lining of his brows. Flawless and without fault, except for the darkening bags under his silver pools, which you dig by the way. He is, in fact, the godly embodiment of sexy, you bet women in his rank swoon for him only to be pushed aside. Lucky of you, you have a one of a kind charisma that drags this real life devil to his feet.

You look into each other’s face for a couple briefing moments, both of you discovering similar pairs of fiery eyes filled with lust in an overflowing amount. Meanwhile, his gaze dawdles on your red lips, color smudged by his doing, and he likes it. The longer he stares up at you, the more he’s convinced you’re nothing but a licentious woman hiding under your little renaissance dresses. Just thinking about it makes him want to fuck you so bad.

Levi refuses to stay still and dives into your breasts, causing your back to arch, unexpectedly hitting the perfect spot. He isn’t content and squeezes your butt, then letting his hands sit just at the top of your ass’ globes. “Levi—ah!” Shit! You desperately hold back your uprising orgasm. You have to stay in tact.

With that in mind and while he suckles on your twin mounds, you grab the chance to wring your clasped hands to your mouth, letting three of your dear coderoin melt and simmer under your tongue. This will have to do.

It’s thrilling, you’re about to drug a person who’s currently eating your boobs out hungrily in an alternating manner. What an odd situation. You wish you could continue fucking, but let’s not forget that Levi is very objective, and he’ll still eventually do his task no matter how much fun you spent with him. Before he can do that, you’ll just beat him to it.

You wait for the sweet, pungent tang to unravel, and when he lifts his chin to kiss you, the drugs are already diluted by your spittle. You skillfully transfer it into his mouth in a sparse method so he won’t notice right away.

Completely unaware, Levi gets to sparring with your tongue in a battle of ascendancy, his hands groping everywhere, and you don’t stop riding him gracefully like you didn’t do anything malicious at all.

With every grind being slick, an endless seduction, you continue enjoying yourself for the last lingering junctures. The constant sheathing into your impossibly close-fitting fuckhole extracts husky groans from his throat, ending up subdued against your mouth. He bites on your lower lip, earning himself a delightful whimper.

Two minutes pass by, something snaps, the brisk effectiveness all thanks to you. He doesn’t know why kissing you feels so dizzying, and… intoxicating. He slowly stops moving his lips and pulls away, cracking both his eyes open, only to be greeted by a cunning look. Then and there, overwhelming peak hits him like a freight train.

He feels less aware, a heavy weight being pressed against his body, colors around him becoming vibrant and he bets his whole life he could feel his own blood stream moving from inside his veins, synchronized with his heartbeats. His peripheral vision seems artificially sluggish yet accelerating.

Your lips quirk upward, discovering the befuddled expression plastered on his handsome face. You notice how his muscles strain in distress, but he can’t move even a single inch, indicating your success.

Levi’s brows furrow in cluelessness, eyes later widening upon realizing what kind of dirty stunt you pulled on him from up your sleeve.

You fix your posture upright before removing your body from his, heaving out a sigh of relief. Standing up, you look at him. Frozen and unable to do a single thing to restrain you. Down and obedient like a mere, small pet. At long last! He’s out of your hair.

“You’re too high to walk straight right now, aren’t you?” you jest, voice laced with the most graceful condescension. Of course, you know perfectly well first times can be extremely stupefying, especially with the dosage you just used for a rookie like him. Instead of it being euphoric, it’s entirely going to be the opposite. Nothing close to good.

“What the fuck did you just do?” poor Levi seethes in anger, but even his tone sounds tenfold more groggy compared to when he first arrived.

“Gave you a heavenly experience?” you giggle and repeatedly pull your wrists away from each other in an effortless attempt to break them apart, the hindrance of a shackle limiting your movements. Bothersome.

What part of weariness and intense jet lag is the heavenly experience? In a trice, Levi blames himself for being careless and taking you for granted. He should’ve done better than forget you’re from the same garbage dump he’s from. You’re one fucking crazy bitch.

Helpless, he watches you walk to the part of the table where you left the cigarette pack, shaking it all out just to get one and clip it between your lips. Some roll off to the ground, but you pay it no heed. His blood is boiling hard and tries to stand. You let him squirm around, confident that he can’t do anything, and struggle on your own to fish your lighter from your dress’ pockets.

You take your precious time lighting your stick, butane triggering the fresh burn of tobacco. You don’t mind that you look ridiculous with both hands on your face, or that your hair is a mess, or that your breasts are popped out. As you suck for smoke and briefly fill your lungs to then blow it upwards, you think, it’s just you and a spiked guy in here anyway.

Letting the nicotine rush take over your senses, you sit on the edge of the table and examine the dark haired soldier. What gives, he’s more impotent than you now. It’s ever so rare to see Levi so open to attack. “Mint goes well with coderoin, you know?” you inform just to piss him off.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” Though you can hear his fury, the threat only sounds so void, the usual venom lacking from his pitch.

He sits back as you pull in smoke into your chest, exhale it out, menthol aroma reaching his nose. You chuckle heartily that among every tip and corner of his body feels like burning from rage.

Time is ticking and slipping away from Levi’s grasp. He stays silent, the pounding of his heart loud enough to ring in his ears. He can’t accept he got deceived. Did you plan this from the very start? When? The moment he told you his intentions? The second he asked about your life here? Or maybe when he kicked the trapdoor open? That can’t be. Five years, and you’re quicker on your feet than you once were.

“That’s cute of you,” you copy what he said when you barked the same phrase. You admit, earlier was a close call, but thanks to your sharp mind and the past you shared, you won him over. Barely.

As always, men are most vulnerable when driven by libido. What fools.

With one last hit of the cigarette, achieving the lightheaded state you’re aiming for, you drop it to the floor, not bothering to extinguish it. Burn this house down, for all you care. You’ll have to move places from now, knowing he might start tailing behind you for vengeance.

Now, you can’t stay longer. The drugs won’t last on him from such a method. It’s not the right way to take it—through kissing.

It was a good time, but unfortunately, you have to part ways with him. The guy wants to arrest you, and that’s the last thing you want to happen. You’d rather settle in and have five kids with an old geezer than spend the rest of your life in a prison. You’re not dense, you know how heavy your crimes are, having circulated in both the Underground and the surface for plenty years. Impressive of you, right? Makes it all the more fun to carry on.

That’s why they should just dream of catching you, because you’ll never let that happen.

You walk toward his immobilized body, movements slinky as you bend over to reach his face and deliciously run your tongue over his lips, tasting the seemingly nectar. As much as he wants to just grab you by the hair and kick your annoying face, he’s only able to lift his arms up a few inches before falling back down again.

It doesn’t escape your field of vision, reminding you to leave immediately. “Sweet, isn’t it?” you ask once you pull away, a sly smile on your lips.

“Why don’t we call it a truce, shall we?” you lastly negotiate. His lips are firmly pressed into a thin line and refuses to say anything. Steel grey eyes look back at you in annoyance. You tilt your head in curiosity. You know he has a lot going in his brain. This might be the last time you see each other, will he choose to keep those in?

Well, he does want you out of his sight right now before he regains his strength and kill you on the spot. He clicks his tongue in impatience.

“Just fucking leave, you lunatic,” he spits. You sure will.

“Gladly. Until next time, Levi,” you drawl and blow him a kiss goodbye, then strutting away in triumph, smile never leaving your face even if you’ve fully turned your back on him.

When you finally disappear, he lets out an exasperated sigh, contemplating his defeat. Nape resting on the chair’s rail, he looks up to the dark ceiling. A droplet of sweat slides from his forehead, which he manages to wipe away in no time, resilience overcoming the delirium.

Actually pondering about it, you’re a real witty one. Of course he was still going to take you with him eventually, he just hasn’t planned it ahead. Seriously though, a sneaky tactic. He massages his nose bridge, shaking his head.

What a crazy brat.

In the end, he decides to just pass on the work to Erwin about getting on the good side of the monarch and politicians, knowing full well he was in for some major explaining—maybe leave out the obscene details.

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echo-three-one · 3 years ago

Text

1 - A new Start

A new beginning.

Belinda smiled at the thought of her fresh start as she rolled over her bed and pulled her sheets, getting up as soon as she realized that it smelled different, almost like a masculine perfume.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she got up and realized that she was on the sofa, stark naked and there's a bare man's ass lying on the carpet.

"Shit." she muttered as her head started to pound and memories of last night quickly assaulted her still fragile mind.

She could remember going to the bar as soon as she unpacked one box and met someone there. She did her best to recall a name, but nothing rang. It seemed like she managed to sleep with this person without the effort of knowing his name, and that only happens when she's drunk and lets her guard down.

The man in question grunted and rolled as Belinda quickly tossed his shirt to cover his crotch, saving her from the view that she was almost about to see.

"Hey there, Jane Doe." he greeted with a cocky smirk as he slowly reached for his other clothes.

"Yeah. You got to go, now. I have work in an hour." She quickly shuffled and helped him leave her apartment.

"Really? Just like that? We gave each other an unforgettable night and I can't even get your name? Or a cup of coffee?" he joked as he pulled his pants up and buttoned it, his face looking like he was waiting for her answer.

Belinda just shot her an annoyed look.

"My name won't matter anymore. What happened last night was the old me saying goodbye to old habits. And that person who slept with you is no longer me." She explained as she slowly pushed him to the door.

"Well, I'm Russell. And don't worry Jane Doe, this is a small town. It'll only take me a few hours to get your name. See you around!" He winked as he closed the door and left Belinda staring at it for a few seconds.

He was right. This was a relatively small town and if he's a local, they're bound to cross paths anytime soon. And she admittedly enjoyed his company last night, but just as she told herself, that was the last time that she's going to do that. A new life meant that she must be careful with anyone she sleeps with.

With a self nod of approval and agreement to herself, she proceeded to prepare herself for her first day on her new job.

Ever since she was young, teaching was always her passion and she went all out to pursue her dream of sharing knowledge to the next generation. And after quitting her previous teaching job back at her hometown, she was glad that she got accepted in this new university as an English professor.

"Good Morning Ms. Belinda Ivanov and welcome to the university. Thank you for responding to our job vacancy on such short notice. You're like, the school's heavensent." The Dean, Helen Park, greeted, offering her a seat as she started to orient her about the university. Her British accent was distracting Belinda in a good way, as she dictated each word in a very convincing and understandable manner.

"Yes. I should also thank you for accepting my uh- application despite the previous records." Belinda shyly replied as Helen smiled at her reassuringly.

"Well, Miss Ivanov, those kinds of events rarely happen here as we cater to a more mature demographic and this school seeks talent more than attitude, so you are more than fit to be here. I'm pretty sure you have learned your lesson from your suspension and turned a new leaf, right?" She asked as she read her application.

"Yeah. A fresh start…" Belinda muttered as Helen nodded, her head turned quickly as soon as she noticed someone walk behind Belinda.

"Alex!" She called, causing the floor to squeak as the person's shoe made a complete halt.

"Yes, Miss Park?" Belinda turned to the person whom the dean called. A charming man, around his late 20s peeked through the ajar door and smiled at them.

"I'd like you to meet our new English Professor, Belinda Ivanov." Belinda shyly greeted the fine man as he was dressed in a brown sweater vest which was embracing his body nicely. Belinda shook off her thoughts as she followed Alex to the rest of the school grounds, trailing behind him as he ventured across the university halls.

Of course the first two men he'd meet would be extremely attractive, she thought to herself as she never bothered to pay attention to what Alex was muttering about and just admired his physical appearance. Old habits die hard, she added to her thoughts.

"The previous English teacher is on maternity leave. She used to sit here and you'll be taking this empty seat next to Russ." He explained as her head quickly turned to Alex as soon as he said that name.

"What's wrong? You know Russell?" Alex raised an inquisitive look at Belinda.

"Oh.. uh.. nothing. It's just a name that brings back memories." She lied as she sat down and set her stuff on her new desk.

She still had an hour left before her first class, so she started studying about her lesson plan. She did go over her introductory topic a thousand times over, but she was never too confident on delivering it. And while she was murmuring her lessons, she noticed something move to her left. She veered her eyes towards it and noticed that cheek scar and blonde hair. Who would've guessed that Russell from last night and Russell from the History Department would be one and the same.

Belinda quickly bowed her face down and covered it with her lesson plan trying to hide her from his prying eyes. Teachers slowly came inside the faculty room and all Belinda wished was for the bell to ring and let them all leave.

While she's thinking of her move to exit the area without getting Russell's attention, she felt a hand on her shoulders and let out a surprised shriek. Everyone else looked at her as her fellow female professor tapped her shoulder and wanted to give her a pen that fell on the ground.

The awkward silence was almost deafening as she met with everyone in the most embarrassing way ever. The staring stopped as soon as Alex introduced her to the whole teaching staff and most of the teachers greeted her a warm welcome.

While she shook hands and smiled with everyone in the room, she couldn't help but notice Russell looking at her almost mischievously. Remembering his statement about this place being a small town and he'll know it eventually.

Belinda couldn't remember most of their names and as soon as the last person shook hands with her, Russell quickly turned his chair to face hers.

"Hello, Ms. Belinda. Nice to meet you." He extended a hand and Belinda gulped. She quickly shook it as she felt his grip tighten around her hand, just like last night.

"You too, Mr. Adler." she said, peeking at his nameplate on his desk. Their eyes met for a second before Belinda quickly averted her gaze on the intercom system as it chimed in the first bell.

"That's one of my classes." She said, quickly getting up and leaving the faculty room. Behind her, Alex Mason quickly followed and walked her to her class.

"You look confident for someone who's new to this school. Do you know where you're going?" he asked as soon as he caught up with her.

"No." She hummed confidently, making the math professor chuckle.

"I could just ask a student, or look up a directory." She added, hinting that she didn't need any help.

"Well, that works too. But if you're also new in town, here's my number. I could… like, give you a tour or something." he said, reaching out a business card from his pocket. Belinda took the card and looked at it just before she took a left turn.

"Your class is this way." Alex pointed in the opposite direction and Belinda shyly thanked him before entering her first subject.

Belinda felt fine with the new setup, the new students and the new environment. The students were engaging about the idea of a new teacher and so far, her only problem was Russell Adler, the main person she's trying to get away from. And while she's thinking of ways to not talk to her seatmate, a sign just showed up in front of her on her way back to the teacher's lounge.

"Hey. Have you had lunch yet?" The fresh minty breath of the Math Professor, Alex Mason, wafted across her nose, a scent that felt good as his presence radiated too close in front of her. Belinda wasn't oblivious, Alex was extremely attractive, with his freshly shaved face, his neatly combed hair and his masculine scent, but she promised herself to focus on her career in this new town. Then another sign in the form of Russell Adler passed behind Alex and she was sure as hell that their eyes met before heading straight to the teacher's lounge.

"Sure… I don't know any good places to eat here. I appreciate the friendly gesture." Belinda shyly replied as Alex's grin spread from ear to ear.

"Great! Follow me. It's not too far from here and the food is great!" he cheered as they both walked to the exit, Belinda checking behind her to see if Russell saw the whole scenario or not.

The events were so quick she wasn't really sure if she's doing the right thing, but as long as she doesn't have to talk to the blonde man, she'll be fine. She could avoid him forever if she needed to.

"So, How'd you get to know Russell Adler?" Alex started off as he started to chew off his steak.

Belinda quickly twisted her fork around her salad, wondering if she should tell him the truth and get this over with. But seeing as Alex was sending him signals of admiration, she quickly dismissed that idea and proceeded to lie. Change was hard for Belinda, but it was what she saw best.

"He helped me out on my move, by accident of course." She replied as she took a bite of a slice of tomato.

"Ohh. Then why aren't you two that close? Did something happen?" He asked. He was getting curious and Belinda was starting to create a chain of lies which was not good.

"Well, it's just a chance meeting, there's nothing more to discuss after the move. So yeah… back to normal." She replied as she saw Alex's shoulders relax. Was he jealous? Belinda thought to herself.

"So, how was the first day?" He changed the topic as quick as that and Belinda started to feel eased. She could talk to him all day as long as it was not about her buried past.

"It was fine. I'm honestly glad that I felt comfortable in my first four classes. Usually the students take time to adjust to a new teacher." She explained as Alex chuckled.

"Mine's the same as always, blank expressions on everyone's faces. I mean it's numbers! Their faces are telling me like, The numbers Mr. Mason? What do they mean?" he laughed. Admittedly, being a math teacher feels hard, everyone hates you and wishes you don't exist.

"I tried teaching math once. They really hated every fiber of my being. And we also have supplemental classes every Saturday taking away my life." Belinda groaned as Alex nodded in agreement.

"I'll be in one of those after the first exams. That's why I'm making the most of these weeks." He smiled as he fished out something from his pocket.

"If you want, I have 2 tickets for a live band in the next town. It's on a Saturday evening and I could drive us there if you want." He reached out for one of the two tickets, sending Belinda on another tough decision. Now it's really clear that this wasn't just a friendly date.

Belinda carefully looked at the ticket and gulped as the pressure set it. The longer she leaves him hanging, the more awkward this situation gets. And honestly, she was totally free on a Saturday evening. Plus Alex looked like a good guy. So without further thinking, she took his tickets and nodded, making the man grin in excitement and probably doing an internal happy dance in his mind.

"Great! I'll pick you up at 7. I know it's still five days from now but I just want you to know that I'm happy you joined me." He says gratefulls as the two of them finished their meal and went back to the school to finish the rest of the day.

#Bell #Alex Mason #Russell Adler #codbocw au #horRAYfic

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kookoosbunnynose · 5 years ago

Text

Pairing -> Officer!Reader x BadBoy!Jungkook (ft. Reader x Yoongi)

Genre -> Angst | Smut | Fluff

Rating -> Mature (18+)

Word Count -> 14.5k

Playlist -> Looks Red, Tastes Blue

Summary -> You meet an old friend under uncomfortable circumstances, he brings with him memories you’ve tried to forget for years. Your past becomes your future before you can catch your breath.

Excerpt -> “But where the paradox lies is, if you stop thinking, the smile you hold when you’re with him is the simplest thing you’ve ever done.”

—————

“We have a 10-51 at The Red Eye on Main.” Your radio suddenly booms in your otherwise quiet vehicle, snapping you out of your trance-like state caused by watching a mostly empty intersection run through light cycles for the better part of an hour.

“10-4, I’m 76.” You answered, pausing briefly to assess your location in relation to the hole-in-the-wall bar. “10-77, three minutes.” You finish, setting down your mic and flipping your lights on.

When you first started this job, getting a call for a drunk and disorderly would send your heart into overdrive, cause your breathing to shallow and your hands to shake. Mind filling with possibilities of having to contain a violent man twice your size. But after learning the patterns of the locals in town, and learning your own capabilities, you barely batted an eye. You’d probably just have to give the crotchety town drunk a ride back home and scold him for making you do this for the upteenth time. No biggie.

You sped down the empty street with ease, you could drive this town with your eyes closed since you were fourteen. The street lights around you against the night sky making everything appear untouched and serene, only amplifying your obnoxious siren.

Three minutes, nearly on the dot, when you pull up to Red Eye, and much to your surprise you see a young man sitting on the curb with his forearms resting lazily on his knees waiting for your arrival. The less than impressed security guard stops glaring at him in favor of filling you in on what happened.

“Hi y/n.” the guard greets, making the man pick his head up to confirm his suspicions.

“Well, fancy seeing you on that side of the law.” He says making you take in a stiff breath at the familiar voice, one you haven’t heard in years.

“I could say the same to you, Mr. Jeon.” you say with a steady breath, being very well versed in not appearing as shaken as you are. And you are. But you fight the way your throat wants to close because you’re wearing your badge, and you’re not here to dive nose first into your past. You’re here to take statements and do an assload of paperwork.

“The kid has been pretty cooperative,” the guard continues when you turn your attention back towards him. “didn’t put up a fight when I escorted him out. He’s had one too many drinks and threw a punch at a guy, who has decided not to press charges. But I got his information before he left to tend to his busted lip, if you need to contact him.” he informs, handing you a napkin with the bar’s logo and shaky ink etched into it.

“Thank you, I’ll take him off your hands.” you say glancing at the man in question, he’s still watching you with the kind of smirk only alcohol can provide. “I’ll take him to the station to sober up and get his story.” he nods, stepping back but staying close just in case.

“Are you gonna get in the car quietly or do I have to use these?” you question, holding your cuffs up with a hooked finger.

“Don’t make me any promises you won’t keep, sweetheart.” he winks lamely. You roll your eyes, and open the back door of your car.

“Get in Jeon, I won’t ask twice.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he says, raising his hands in defense and standing to climb in your backseat.

You shut the door behind him and make your way around the vehicle, giving the guard a wave goodbye. If he had been anyone else making a remark like that would’ve landed them a pair of cuffs, but in all your years of knowing him, Jungkook has never given you a reason to feel unsafe with him.

He was pretty quiet on your drive back to the station allowing your mind to wander to the time you two last spoke.

That day the air was heavy and unforgiving on your lungs, that no matter how hard you tried never felt full. You were both dressed in black, heads hung low in mourning. Before you departed you gave each other a long hug, whispering ‘I’m sorry’s and sniffling together. Giving each other as much comfort as you could muster even though neither one of you believed it would be okay yourselves. The hug was meant to be one of condolence but shortly after you would come to learn that, unbeknownst to either of you, it was a goodbye as well.

You don’t know if it was because you were pulling up to the station or if it was because he could sense your thoughts but he decided to break the silence.

“The asshole had it coming.” He spoke bluntly, as you opened his door and walked him inside.

“What did he do that warranted a busted lip?” you asked, slightly exasperated but mostly curious.

“He was making a girl at the bar uncomfortable, she asked him to stop and he didn’t. I stepped in, he swung, I dodged, I clocked him in the mouth, and he fell down.” He recounted simply, almost bored. He hasn’t changed, still ready to throw a punch for anyone in need. Just like-

Your stern look softens. “Why didn’t you tell security he threw the first punch?”

“Would he have believed me? I’m sure I haven’t been gone long enough for half the town to forget my reputation.” He says sitting in the chair next to your desk and crossing his tattooed arms across his chest. Those are new. Well, most of them.

“I suppose not, but at least I could have it on record that you tried.”

“I told you, didn’t I?” he raises his brows.

“Yes, you did.” you relent, grabbing a breathalyzer from your drawer. “Blow.”

He takes the device from you and does as instructed, presumably choosing to keep some sexual comment to himself.

“A .05?” You blink. “I thought he said you drank too much.”

“Probably assumed since I decked a guy in a bar.” He shrugs.

“I suppose, but how annoying.” you say slightly bothered by the fact that he had to tell you everything, and security didn’t even bother to ask people who started it. He chuckles at you.

You start typing away on your report, his story, his blood alcohol level, etc.

“Do you wanna press charges? He did try to assault you.” you question, pausing your fingers.

“No, but I think that woman should.” you smile.

“Okay, I have all the info I need. You have two options.” you turn to him. “I can drive you home now, or I could get you some coffee and you wait here until you blow a .02 then I’ll take you back to your car.”

“I take option B.” he says, tapping the corner of your desk as if to lock in his answer. “I don’t want to have to go get it tomorrow.”

“I’ll go get your coffee.” you go to get the two of you some much needed liquid energy. Normally, you wouldn’t just leave someone who was brought in for assault without cuffing them to your desk or asking someone to watch them, but you know him, and normally people wouldn’t voluntarily choose to hang out in a police station for any longer than they needed to. Tonight is full of many things outside the norm.

As you sit back down back down with your drinks, Taehyung returns from patrol duty, and beelines for Seokjin’s desk.

“Tag you’re it.” he says, patting Jin’s back, making him flinch.

“Officer Kim, don’t sneak up on me.” He says puffing out his chest.

“My apologies, Officer Kim.” they laugh.

You miss the way Tae looks over at you, and his smile drops when he sees who is at your desk.

You and Jungkook sip your coffee with a comfortable silence, neither of you wanting or needing to address his long absence yet, not while you’re filling out a report with his name on it.

A couple hours pass like this, with you doing various paperwork, and him scrolling on his phone or staring into space. Yep, definitely hasn’t changed.

“Alright Jeon, once more.” you say handing him the breathalyzer again.

He does.

.01, good.

“Let’s get you to your car.” you stand, and walk out into the crisp dawn air.

The ride back doesn’t leave your mind swimming as much as the first time. There’s still a sizable elephant in the room, but the tension isn’t as unbearable as you’d imagined it would be.

You pull your car next to his, allowing him to return home. “Thank you.” He half smiles, unsure if he should say ‘see ya later’ or not, but you had a feeling you would soon. — You awoke later that same day, when the peachy light of the sunset was flowing through your windows. Your shift at the station usually ran from midnight to ten in the morning, meaning you usually slept through most of the day. Though you didn’t mind, you’ve always been a night owl, nothing a little vitamin D supplements can’t fix.

Groaning as you roll over in your mess of blankets to check your phone, you find exactly what you were expecting.

Jimin (7:48pm): In need of stress relief, Doll? ;)

You (8:13pm): God, yes. When you couldn’t meet up last week I thought I was gonna implode :(

Jimin (8:15pm): Aw, you missed me? Cute

You (8:16pm): Don’t flatter yourself Park. I missed your dick

Jimin (8:17pm): I’m hurt :(

You (8:19pm): I’ll be over in 40. Be ready, handsome ;)

Jimin (8:19pm): :)

You toss your phone on your bed and get up to take a shower, a little hop in your step at the prospect of receiving an orgasm by someone else’s hand. And Jimin always delivered.

You wash your hair quickly, more concerned about shaving your legs for the first time in two weeks. After you’ve dried off, you lotion and perfume like normal. You slip on a tank top and leggings, knowing that he is a big fan of your ass. You take your uniform with you as well so you can head straight to work after your weekly dick transaction.

When you’re making your short drive to Jimin’s you find your mind wandering to Jungkook. How your heart skipped a beat when you saw him sitting on that curb. How he’s lost all the baby fat he used to hold in his cheeks, but his eyes still crinkle when he smiles. How having him stand in front of you for the first time in five years confirmed your adolescence wasn’t in fact a pipe dream your mind had fabricated after you decided to change everything you could. How though he’s jaded and may not know it himself, he’s the same boy you’ve always known. And how he still reminded you of-

But now wasn’t time to dwell, you’ve done enough of that. Tonight is supposed to be about the exact opposite. Free of stress. Free of thoughts. Only a couple hours of animalistic need. Then you could go back to reality.

“Hello y/n.” Jimin greets with a smile after your knuckles rap against his door. “Do you wanna talk? Before we…”

“Not really.” you answer a little too fast, crossing the threshold of his apartment.

“Works for me.” he says, noticing that you’re seeking more of the benefits than the friends side of this deal.

Without another word his hands are on your hips and his lips are on your neck, walking you backwards until your back is flush with the door. Noticing that you’re not in the mood for as much foreplay as normal, he immediately grazes his teeth against that spot on your neck that makes you sigh into his ear.

He’s always been very good at reading you, perhaps that’s why you agreed to this little arrangement. You’re not sure exactly how the two of you ended up fucking in the first place. Definitely had something to do with your collective blood alcohol level at the time. But when all was said and done that first time he told you he’d be more than willing to make it a regular thing. To make your shoulders relax every so often and it’s not as if he didn’t get anything out of it. Neither of you were in the headspace for a relationship, so the easy access to orgasms, with no strings attached was ideal for all parties involved.

Not that you weren’t friends outside his bedroom as well. You guys would hangout pretty often just as friends. You were fortunate that the line between your regular dose of stress relief and the platonic love you had for one another never blurred. Jimin was special in that regard.

Your hands find the hem of his shirt and he takes the hint quickly pulling it over his head. You do the same, and his hands eagerly cup your breasts. He reattaches his lips to the sweet spot on your neck biting down harder this time causing a small whine to fall from your lips. He smirks against your skin and runs his tongue along your reddened skin to sooth it.

Not wanting to waste anymore time than necessary you grab his hand and walk him to his bedroom. Once inside you put your hands on his chest and give him a firm push until his knees meet the edge of his mattress and he falls against it with a small bounce. When he falls back you remove your leggings and underwear, he does the same matching your urgency.

You climb over him planting your knees on either side of his hips, grinding your increasingly wet slit up his stiff length.

“You got hard pretty fast.” you say breath tickling his cheek and he slides his palms up your thighs to your ass, gently kneading the flesh in his hands.

“You said be ready.” he says smoothly, pushing his hips up to add to the friction on your clit. The extra contact catching you off guard making you place your hands on his shoulders for extra balance.

You feel his breath hitch beneath you when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock to guide him to your entrance. You sit down a little slower than you want to due you being a little less wet than usual.

It was your doing, he would’ve been glad to work you up properly, but you were seeking a quick release. Caught somewhere between wanting to take your time so your escape will last longer and needing to reach the cloudy peak as quickly as possible, putting as much distance as you can between you and the thoughts that lay in the valley of your metaphorical mountain. Though it seems your body was choosing the latter for you.

You rock your hips against his, enjoying the way his cock drags against your g-spot, sending heat from your core to your toes. You pick up your pace a little allowing yourself to let go as much as you can, jaw going slack and eyes closing tightly. Jimin groans at the sight, reaching up to toy with your pert nipples.

A light layer of sweat forms over both of your bodies, heating the room like a makeshift furnace. A furnace made of hot skin and moans instead of fire.

You increase the speed of your hips on his until your thighs start to burn, the dull ache in your limbs only adding to the fiery one in your pelvis. Your pants grow louder as your end is nearly in sight.

“Jimin,” you gasp with a mouth like cotton. “I need more.”

Your request straight to the point, he moves his hands to your hips, rubbing your clit one thumb and using his other hand to keep you in place while he thrusts up to meet yours roughly.

“Umph- fuck!” your voice cracks as you fall onto his chest, curling your fingers into his hair and pulling to keep you grounded as your orgasm rips through you.

Jimin groans deeply in your ear, you can tell how your fists in his hair and your walls clenching around him brought him to his end by how desperate his thrusts became. You can feel his cock pulsing as he coats your core with his cum.

You both lay like that for a few moments, his softening dick still tucked safely within you and labored breaths creating a fog around your heads.

“Can I use your shower? I don’t wanna go to work smelling of sex.” you ask and he chuckles against your shoulder.

“By all means.”

“Thank you.” you say, for both the shower and the sex.

He grabs your hand when you go to stand from the damp fabric of his bed. “Are you alright?” he decides to pry for the first time tonight. “You haven’t been that down to business since that fight with your mom a few months ago.” he says, concern laced in his features.

“Yeah.” you begin unsure. “Just, something happened last night that brought up some memories.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he treads lightly, knowing what that statement could mean.

“I’ll be okay. You let me turn off my brain for a minute.” you smile and kiss his cheek.

“Happy to help. I’m here if you need anything.” he says with a stupid wink. Though you know he doesn’t just mean sex. Jimin has been a shoulder for you to cry on as long as you’ve known each other. You’ve always been there for him as well. A mutual understanding that you can come to each other for anything.

“I know, thank you Minie.” — You take a deep breath and run your hands through your hair, cursing the clock above the captain’s doorway that ticks just too loud for you to think. You blink a few times, your eyes struggling to focus on the text on your computer screen. You’re relieved when the phone on your desk starts to ring.

“Hello this is Officer l/n.” you say putting the phone to your ear, unfortunately excited about someone being in distress, but you’re about five minutes of screen time away from getting a migraine.

“Hello Miss l/n, this is Mrs. Choi,” here we go again. “I was wondering if you could send an officer to the house across the street? I think I saw some hoodlums trespassing.” and there it is.

“Of course Mrs. Choi,” you hold back a lengthy exhale. “I’ll go check it out, myself. Did you happen to see anything that could provide a description?”

“I’m afraid not dear, I only saw some trees rustling.” ah yes, the wind. Nature’s trespasser.

“Okay, I’ll take a look. Anything to help you sleep better at night, ma’am.” you smile as sweetly as you can despite her not being able to see you.

“Thank you Miss l/n.” she says promptly ending the call.

You let your breath out fully for the first time since the interaction began. And try your best to ignore how tense it makes you when she always calls you ‘Miss’ but calls all your male coworkers ‘Officer.’ You once put Jin in a choke-hold over a granola bar, you’re more than capable of holding your own, but that’s neither here nor there. Really.

“Mrs. Choi again?” Tae asks peering around the filing cabinet between your desks.

“The one and only.” you state. “She ordered the usual; someone to check the old abandoned house across from hers.”

“Well maybe if someone didn’t break into that place all the time in high school.” he says looking anywhere but at you.

“And now I’m the one who has to get rid of them. The world goes round, balance is restored. Hooray.“ you say feigning awe, he chuckles.

“Hey, I know how you are about that old place, do you want me to check it out for you?” Tae asks his expression morphing into worry.

“I got it, I’m okay. I need to stretch my legs anyway. But thank you Tae, really.” for the first few months you were a cop, you couldn’t even take the patrol route the old house was on without crying. He was always really nice about taking care of it for you. Officer Kim, always ready to jump in at a sign of distress, perhaps why he’s so good at his job.

“Okay, just let me know if you change your mind.” you hum an affirmative as you exit the building.

Though the bubble of anxiety in your stomach grows as you approach the run down house, it doesn’t spill out as tears anymore. You’ve come to accept this is as healed as your wounds will get.

You unlock the chain on the gate and make your way to the front door, knocking harshly before opening it.

“Police! Come out now and I won’t tell your moms what you’ve been doing!” you shout into the empty house. You’re sure the house is empty because every time there has been a few teens in here you can hear them run before you can even shout ‘police!’ but, you still need to do a walk through just in case.

Your cautious steps make the floorboards creak below you, the smell alone flooding your mind with memories.

There’s a sliding glass door in the back, that’s long since been shattered, where you used to sit and get a perfect view of the stars for hours with your first, and thus far only, love.

Your mind wanders to when you used to play music off your phones and slow dance in the living room, skillfully avoiding the gaps in the old wood floor. It’s truly a wonder this place hasn’t been torn down yet, but you’re thankful, you don’t know if you could bear to see it go.

As you make your way down the dark hallway you get a small craving for a cigarette, having quit years ago now, but you can almost feel the dry paper on your lips as you make your way to the last bedroom in the house. You pause at the door.

Your eyes scan until they reach the corner of the room, pausing at the small carving in the wall. Your breath catches for the briefest of seconds when step close to it, tracing the heart with your fingers, careful to not get any splinters. Your fingers continue their journey, tracing the initials at its center with care.

Y/I + YG

“Babe! Angel! C’mere!” Yoongi’s smile beamed, gums and all.

“What?! What did you need to interrupt my sandwich eating to show me?” you follow his voice slightly annoyed, though you wondered why he disappeared for a few minutes, leaving you to munch in solitude. You had met here for a picnic, not uncommon for the two of you during the summer. He brought a blanket and you brought the burgers. You set up the picnic in the living room, with summer sun’s rays spilling through the old cracked windows, it’s a lot more beautiful than sitting in the middle of an abandoned house sounds.

“Look!” he says gesturing to the freshly carved wood on the wall, tucking his trusty knife back in his pocket.

“God, you’re so lame.” you smile and walk over to him. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in close to admire his handy work.

“If I’m lame it’s your fault.” me chuckles running his hand through your hair. “I suppose, loving you makes me this way.” he hums jokingly.

“I never said it was a bad thing.” you look up at him, admiring the way the sun makes his bleached hair glow.

“You know I do right?” his tone drops a bit and his eyes search yours. “I love you.”

“Of course I know.” he only tells you everyday, yet you never tire of hearing it. You study his face, the slope of his nose and the little mole right next to it. His pink petal lips, that despite his reputation, you don’t know how anyone could be weary of a man with such beautifully delicate features. And his dark eyes that lighten only when he looks at you.

His gums return. He tilts your chin up to gently connect your lips. He tastes of the chocolate milkshake he drank not long ago, and you hum against his mouth.

“I love you too.”

The memory shifts, to one five months later.

“I love you too, angel.” his chilled lips peck yours, as he starts to climb out your bedroom window. The winter air makes you shiver when a gust of wind blows against your skin, with only your pajamas to keep you warm. Sometimes you’d sneak him overnight but with the first day back to school being tomorrow, it was too risky. If your mom caught him here again she’d have some choice words for the two of you, but she is a heavy sleeper, so as long as he left at a decent hour, nothing to worry about.

He hops down, his boots packing the snow beneath them when he lands. His head now a bit below yours as you lean out your first story window.

“Text me when you get home!” you remind him as he starts the small trek back to his car.

“Always!” he whisper-shouts back before disappearing around the side of your house.

You gaze up at the moon and take in a deep breath, trying to decide if the frozen air is refreshing or sharp on your lungs. You don’t take the time to figure it out before your window is shut and the air in your room feels hot against your cheeks.

You curl up in bed, and decide to scroll your various socials until your eyes get heavy.

You blink to help your eyes focus on the text on your screen, and decide to call it a night. You flick your eyes over to check the time.

2:30 am? Yoongi left at 2:00 and still no text? He’s always really good about telling you he got home, though he has forgotten a few times, no one is perfect.

“I’ll wait til he texts, he probably stopped for gas.” you mumble to no one.

2:45 am. You decide to text him.

You (2:46am): Love, did you make it home alright?

You (3:15am): I’m sure you just fell asleep.

You hit send trying to convince the panic knotting your stomach.

“He’s forgotten before, why am I freaking out so much?” you mumble to yourself rubbing your eyes. “I’ll just call him.”

My Love missed your call (3:23am)

My Love missed your call (3:35am)

My Love missed your call (3:42am)

“It’s Yoongi, leave your message after the beep.”

“Hi, I know that you’re probably just sleeping, and you’re gonna tell me that you’re fine in the morning.” you push out a laugh trying not to cry. “But I just can’t shake this feeling, so please please call me as soon as you wake up. I love you.”

My Love missed your call (4:01am)

You sit there staring at your phone in your hands, for a few minutes watching the clock on your screen change. Still nothing.

“Alright, fuck it.” you huff and grab your boots, shoving your feet in them and throwing on your jacket. You grab your keys and get in your car, you dial his number again while you start the engine, the route to his house flashing through your mind.

The dial tone in your ear stops ringing. “Thank fuck Yoongi!” the tears you’ve been holding back start to spill in relief. “You scared the-”

“This is Officer Jung.” a deep voice rings in your ear and your blood runs cold.

“What’s going on? What happened?” you ask frantic, the panic in your lungs turning into fire, the air feeling too thick to swallow.

“Ma’am, Min Yoongi was involved in an incident.” he says attempting to make his voice resemble something close to comfort. “The snow caught his tire and hi-”

“Is he okay?” you try to yell but your throat is closing.

“His car was pulled into a ditch, he-.”

“Is he fucking okay?!” your voice cracks and so does the dam holding back your tears.

“He didn’t make it.”

Your heart skips in a way you didn’t know it could, your body instantly too weak to hold itself or anything else. Your phone falls to the floor and your body falls against your steering wheel. You think you’re screaming but who can be sure with the ringing in your ears echoing in your skull. Your vision is blurred and your cheeks are wet. You were shivering when you climbed in your car but your skin has gone numb.

You don’t know how long you were crying in your car but by the time you were able to collect yourself enough to walk back to your bed your phone had no charge, and the sun had begun to rise.

When you finally turned your phone back on, you were flooded with people asking if you were okay, most of them you didn’t even know. After scrolling through your list of unopened texts, you answered only the one from his little brother.

Gukkie (7:38am): You okay?

You (8:44am): No

Gukkie (8:45am): Yeah, me either.

Now the ache is dull and the memories are faded. The anger and hurt that used to filter them turns more rosy as time goes on. And as with most wounds, there are scars. Love runs deep and Min Yoongi was your deepest river and your deepest cut.

You finish tracing the divots in the wood and smile bittersweetly. You place a kiss on the tips of your first and second fingers, you touch them to his initials and take a deep breath.

You let that breath go slowly as you walk out of the house, careful not to step on any of the less stable floor panels. Your lungs finally empty when you reach the gate where you can not-so-metaphorically lock up your past. — “Did you really need to cuff me?” you hear a familiar voice huff from behind you.

“Yes I did.” Tae grunts, you turn to see him holding Jungkook by the elbow before he plops him down in the seat next to his desk.

“Alright, you’re the boss.” he says somewhere between sarcasm and defeat. He attempts to shift into a comfortable position, his cuffs against the metal chair hitting your ears in a less than pleasant way.

Jungkook glances your way and gives you a small nod when you catch eyes, and you do your best to pretend you meant to be staring at him. Though you’re sure he’s probably just as tense as you are. Police stations aren’t exactly the best place for a reunion. Especially twice.

“Name.” Taehyung states in a business-like tone.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“Date of birth.” September first, 1997.

“September first, 1997.”

“Address.” 5235 west- shit I’m eavesdropping.

You shift in your seat and refocus on what you were doing before they came in. You try to at least.

Seokjin returns from his patrol route, entering the room the same as he always does, as loud as possible. “Tag you’re it!” he says with a childlike smile as he pats Tae on the shoulder.

“I’m kinda busy.” he gestures to Jungkook and his computer screen.

“I can take care of the report for you.” you butt in before you can think about the fact that you’re speaking. Tae slides his chair to your desk to get out of the other’s ear shot. “Do you really wanna deal with him? I know you’re not a big fan.” you lower your voice.

“Yeah, you have a point.” He thinks for a second, looking over at the man in question and grimacing slightly. “You sure?”

“Of course, I took care of him last week.” you say matter of factly. “And years before that.” you add after a beat. He nods in agreement, and grabs his jacket. “Change in plans Guk,” he smiles at the nickname he hasn’t heard from you in a long time. “You’re with me, Officer Kim has other business he needs to attend to.”

“Oh does he?” Jungkook mutters under his breath and you hold back a chuckle. He gets up from Tae’s desk and shuffles over to yours, his shoulders releasing slightly.

Without saying anything you unlock his wrists and set the cuffs on your desk, he rubs his skin a little too dramatically and you smile when he sits back in the chair looking more relaxed.

“Thank you.” Jungkook smiles. You miss the way Tae scowls at your gesture as he walks out of the building.

You start filing out the basics without question, as you know all the answers. He sits there tracing the walls with his eyes, far less entertaining than last week having already memorized the lack luster wallpaper.

“Alright Guk, what happened this time?” you say after a couple minutes.

“I didn’t fucking do anything.” he says widening his eyes clearly frustrated but not at you.

“It appears you did.” you say accusing him playfully.

“Seriously.” he relaxes a little. “I went to Red Eye again, I was minding my own business.” he points his finger at you in preemptive defense. “The same guy from last week-”

“The one whose face you busted?” you quip.

He stops, mouth slightly agape. “Yes, that one.”

“Continue.” you smirk and he glares at you slightly.

“I was sitting at the bar, he came up and started saying he could kick my ass for what I did. I told him to forget about it cause I wasn’t gonna fight him. He said I may look tough now but I’m still the same sixteen year old I was before everything. I got in his face, no fists mind you, and told him to fuck off. The security saw us yelling and told us we needed to leave, and I refused because I had done nothing wrong. He told me he would call the cops and the other guy left, but I sat my ass back down, cause The Man has never stopped me before. And bingo bango, Officer Pretty Boy cuffs me and I’m here.”

“You just can’t get rid of that rep of yours, can you?” you soften.

“I’m used to it, and it’s nothing I didn’t do to myself.” he shrugs. “Besides, I’d rather be feared than pitied.” his voice lowers, and your heart twinges.

“I don’t fear or pity you.” he smiles, not one of those smiles that’s big and all teeth, but one that’s small and warm. Jungkook had this way of saying everything he needed without speaking a word.

Silence falls over you while you finish writing the report. He didn’t do anything other than disturb the peace for a moment, no need for punishment harsher than a slap on the wrist.

“Ow!” he rubs his arm. “What the fuck was that for?” he questions, his brows furrow.

“It was a slap on the wrist.” you shrug. “You didn’t do anything that requires a fine or jail time, so you get a warning.”

“Aren’t you taking that a tad too literal?” he chuckles.

“I don’t think so.” you fight a smile. “I don’t wanna see you with flashing lights near you again unless you catch fire. Am I understood?”

“Yes ma’am.” he playfully salutes, but he knows you’re serious.

“Would you like a ride back to your car?”

“I can walk, that’s not necessary.” he says standing up and waving you off.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, the air will do me good.” his feet stutter. “Would you maybe want to get coffee on Wednesday? I didn’t imagine our reunion going quite like this.” he lets out a breathy laugh.

“I’d love that.” your eagerness to accept surprises you, and given the way he lights up, you surprise him too. — You mindlessly push the noodles you’ve been eating around on your plate letting the sound of other tables’ utensils clinking and your mother ramble on about her book club’s latest ventures buzz lowly in your head as you hum vague responses.

“… Jeon Jungkook moved back to town.” the mention of the name snaps you back into reality.

“What about Jungkook?” you ask, now at full attention.

“Have you heard he moved back to town?” she looks at you expectantly.

“I- um. I thought I saw him in the grocery store the other day, but I assumed I was seeing things.” you say keeping your voice as steady as possible.

“His mother is absolutely over the moon about it.” she says, wholly missing your lie as she was too excited at the prospect of telling you the latest gossip. Small town doesn’t leave one with much else to do.

“I’m sure she is.” you say and your chest can’t help but warm at the thought of Mrs. Jeon being so excited to see her son after he’s been gone for three years.

“She’s so happy he finally gave up on that god awful garage band.” she says, relief filling her face, and you roll your eyes. You had nearly forgotten he went to the city to make it big, you hadn’t ever doubted them, his voice alone was label worthy. “What were they called again? Red appendix?”

You blink. “Crimson Heart?” you offer her, knowing full well you’re correct.

“Ah right! That’s the one.” she says laughing at the, admittedly edgy, name. “I’m so glad he’s cleaning up his act, I expected better of him.” she adds, shaking her head. Your shoulders tense at her statement.

“Did you hear Jeon Jungkook got busted for spray painting the movie theater?” your mom questions as she leans on your door frame. Your face buried in some book you didn’t know the name of, as long as it had words in it. Mind numbing words.

“Um, no mom. I didn’t.” you mumble clearly uncomfortable with the subject. It was summer now, about six months since that night. The cold unforgiving weather that changed your world in an instant long since melted away, and as free as summer used to make you feel, it just feels hot and bitter against your skin.

“It just makes me sad, I expected better for him.” her voice solemn, clearly not ready to let the topic go.

You couldn’t muster a response that wasn’t yelling or trying to reason with her, which would get you nowhere.

“I never understood why you couldn’t have chosen the good brother.”

Your fingers clench around your book wrinkling the pages. She’d said that for years but sting you felt this time was far deeper.

“He was so studious and stayed out of trouble, but it looks like I was wrong.” she says, appearing more upset that her judgment was off, rather than the obvious issue at hand.

“Can we please not talk about them.” you plead softly, fighting your closing throat and watering eyes.

“Honey, I know you miss him, but look how much better you’re doing now! You’re reading for pleasure.” I’m reading so I can’t think. “You raised your GPA up almost a whole point before the year ended.” My test scores are the same, I just did my homework. “And I haven’t found cigarettes under your bed in months!” She seems most excited about that one. I’ll give her the smoking, they don’t fill my lungs the same way they used to. How can they when I can’t catch my breath?

Her attempt at comfort doing nothing but reminding you that you can’t be who you want to be anymore. You’d become someone who does any trivial task they can as not to spend too much time alone with their thoughts. Instead of someone who didn’t give a shit, did what they wanted to do, and most importantly had their love by their side. “Yeah, I guess not smoking anymore is good.”

“You know I always rooted for you two.” your mom says, her smile mischievous.

“I know, you always told me he was the ‘good brother’.” you try to conceal your eye roll at the same conversation you’ve had with her a million times.

“Before you and Yoongi got together, too.” she adds.

“What?” now this surprised you.

“His mom and I used to talk about how cute you’d be when you were all in elementary.” she remembers fondly.

You try to respond but you’re too shocked that her infatuation with Jungkook went past him being ‘so close yet so far.’

“Anywho, I just hope he can find the boy he used to be.” she hums.

You agree, but for largely different reasons. Your chest blooms at the thought of a smiling Jungkook.

“So do I, mom.” — Jimin (6:37pm): Hey Doll, in need of extra McLovin after lunch with The Wicked Witch of the West?

You (6:45pm): Actually, I feel okay Minie, but thank you

You (6:46pm): I’m doing better

Jimin (6:53pm): I’m proud of you, beautiful

You (7:04pm): Me too — When you walk into the coffee shop a few minutes before you were supposed to meet you’re surprised to see Jungkook already sitting at a small table by the wall of large windows with two cups of coffee placed in front of him.

“Hey Guk.” you sit down, shoulders relaxing.

“I got your old order, I hope that’s okay.” he smiles nervously.

“How the hell did you remember that?” you gasp, taking a long sip from your cup.

“You’ve had a caffeine addiction since you were like fourteen, and you practically lived at my house.” he chuckled.

“I suppose you’re right.” you nod in agreement and take another sip, the drink making your taste buds dance.

“Listen,” Jungkook begins, rubbing the back of his neck. “I want to apologize for the whole you arresting me twice thing.” he hesitates.

“Technically, I didn’t arrest you the second time.” you correct with a smile, trying to ease his obvious guilt.

“Still.” his voice insistent, almost stern. “That isn’t exactly how I wanted us to meet again after five years. It didn’t feel right to not fix it.” his face seeking the approval that his apology did, in fact, fix it.

“There was nothing to fix really, Guk. But thank you.” you soften. “I don’t think of you any different. How could I, given my past?” he chuckles at that. “And you got the shit end of the stick in both situations. I still know you’d never do anything truly bad, you’re all bark and no bite.”

“Oh, you don’t think I can bite?” he tongues the inside of his cheek smugly.

“Would you shut up?” his face shifts immediately, his eyes crinkling. “I’m serious.” you groan, but the heat threatening your cheeks and ears contradicts you. Well, that’s odd. Anyway.

“Okay.” he says after a beat. “C’mon y/n, I know you’re dying to know why I came back. Just ask.” he states, less than smoothly steering the conversation.

“Why would I wonder about you inexplicably reappearing after three years of nearly zero contact with anyone? It hasn’t crossed my mind at all.” your mouth laced with sarcasm.

“You think you’re so funny.” he squints. “I am.” you wave him off. “Alright, spill Rockstar, since you want to so bad. Why’d you give up living it up in the city to come back to all this?”

“Actually.” he laughs. “They kicked me out of the band like two years ago.”

You blink. “What? Why would they kick out their only talent?” you say screwing your brow in offense.

He nearly chokes on his coffee. He sputters trying to catch his breath, wiping his mouth on this arm. “Thank you.” he clears his throat. “But they were definitely better off without me.”

“How do you figure?”

“I wasn’t in the best place when the guys and I moved over there, for obvious reasons.” you nod. “I was getting black out drunk every other night. And writing songs that were just, not good. The kind of sad that isn’t relatable anymore, it was just painful and would make the crowds go silent.”

You grab his hand wishing you could’ve been there when he really needed it, but now will have to do. He smiles.

“The last straw though, was one night I got absurdly drunk right before a gig, and I thought I could handle it because I had been tipsy on stage before. They told me not to but I didn’t listen, and when I got to the song that I wrote about Yoongi, I just broke down sobbing on stage. I was embarrassed so I just fucked off out of the venue and kept running until I didn’t recognize where I was anymore.”

“Guk, I’m so sorry.” you squeeze his hand, and he rubs his inked thumb over you knuckles to tell you not to worry.

“No it’s okay, the guys found me the next morning, passed out in a Denny’s.” he chuckles stiffly. “They brought me home and told me that I needed to get help, they didn’t want to watch me self-destruct anymore, and at the time I was hurt but I’m grateful. It still took me a fucking while to work up the courage to come home, but if I didn’t have anyone tell me to try, I don’t think I’d be home now.” his expression turned from bitter to sweet as he recounted his story.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too.” he smiles, the stars in his eyes multiplying when he looks at you. “My dumbass fifteen year old self thought if I went dark side I could fill the hole he left, but I didn’t know what dark side really looked like until it was too late. Then it just became something I told myself so I didn’t have to face the fact that I was doing shitty shit.”

“You sound like you’ve taken a lot of time to reflect.” you say impressed.

“Limiting your alcohol intake to a normal human level will do that to you.” he chuckles.

“My dumbass sixteen year old self wasn’t much better, arguably worse.” you counter. “I thought if I got rid of everything in my life that reminded me of him, I could force myself to forget.” your face falls slightly. “Which is worse? Diving in head first or turning your back entirely?” you push out a sound that’s supposed to be laugh.

“I think both are pretty fucking miserable.” you both laugh, he gives you reassuring look. “But, tragic backstory aside. I wanted to come home to face the music and make amends with my mom.”

“My mom told me she’s very happy you’re home.” you can’t help but feel her relief.

“Yeah, I really put her through hell.” his guilt present in his expression.

“But you’re here now, aren’t you?” he relaxes, his gaze fixed on yours for a moment. There’s those stars again.

He blinks, snapping his attention to his coffee. “I’m gonna get a refill” he says, disconnecting your hands, that you had forgotten you were holding, to tap his empty cup on the table. “Do you want another?”

“Yes please.” you say turning to rummage in your bag for a few dollars to give him, but when you turn around he’s already in line. You deflate setting the cash in front of you.

Your eyes wander around the cafe, inspecting the comforting eclectic vibe it produced. Your gaze stops on Jungkook standing in line, studying how his features have changed, how he has grown a few inches, his shoulders have broadened and how you can see the way his bicep flexes ever so slightly when he takes the coffee from the barista. What the fuck? Did I just check him out?

You inhale sharply, turning your focus on anything happening on the street outside the window.

When he’s seated back in front of you, you slide the small bills in his direction. He promptly slides them back towards you and you glare at him.

“When did you get so hell-bent on being nice?” he smiles.

You scrunch your brows and drop your jaw. “What do you mean? I’ve always been nice?” you question in defense and he laughs.

“You used to make fun of me all the time.” he states, crossing his arms.

“I mean yeah, but like in a sibling banter type way.” you frown. “Did you really think I was trying to bully you?”

“No!” he reassures. “I mean it kinda sucked because…” he trails off and takes a sip of his coffee in an attempt to abandon his sentence.

“Because?” You’re not getting away that easy.

“You know it’s funny.” he breathes. “I used to have a huge crush on you.” he admits nervously.

“And?” you blink.

“And?” he echos. “No reaction? Not even a slight inhale?”

“I knew, Gukkie.” you break as softly as you can.

Now it’s his turn to be surprised. “You did?” his furrows his brows in offense.

“We both did.” you laugh lightly. “Why do you think Yoongi left an obnoxious amount of hickies on my neck?” you can’t help but cringe a little at the memory.

“That asshole!” Jungkook’s jaw drops, and you snort. “I just thought you were normal slutty teenagers.”

“I didn’t say we weren’t.” you add trying to contain your laughter at the attention his outburst brought you.

He throws you an accusatory squint. “You guys suck.” — “You didn’t need to walk me back to work.” you beam at Jungkook as you walk through the doors of the station. “I don’t need protection.”

“I know you don’t.” he defends. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.” you laugh.

“What did he do this time?” Taehyung chimes in loudly from his desk.

You turn to face him. “Nothing, we just got coffee and caught up.”

His expression remains bitter and unconvinced. You opt for brushing him off.

“Thank you, Gukkie.” you smile when you turn back to Jungkook.

“No, you.” he says, patting your hair affectionately before he exits.

You stand at your desk, shifting various papers to pick up where you left off when you see Taehyung approaching you out of the corner of your eye.

“What the fuck, y/n?” he asks angrily, and you widen your eyes in confusion.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

“Listen, I get it.” he ignores you. “You let him off easy a couple times because you have history together or whatever. But now you’re going on a date with him?” he accuses.

“Tae, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” he scoffs, and your jaw tenses. “I would never slack on my job. And that most definitely was not a date.” your words sharp, hoping you’ll get him to drop whatever bullshit this is.

“Then why would you let him go both times?” he crosses his arms waiting impatiently for a response.

“I didn’t ‘let him go,’ because we had no reason to keep him. It’s not illegal to defend yourself or to be a bit of a stubborn ass.” you defend, raising your voice. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sure okay.” Tae says, clearly annoyed averting his gaze from you.

“I trust him, and you should trust me Taehyung. Why are you being like this?” your voice falling slightly. “Because, I care about you, and the kid is bad news. Do you not remember all that shit he pulled at the end of high school before he took off for several years? He can just show up and everything is heart eyes and open arms?” he says trying to convince you but all it does is make your blood boil.

“I appreciate your concern,” you bite. “But you don’t know him.” He shakes his head letting out a stiff laugh. “Figures you wouldn’t be able to read him, you always did know how to pick ‘em.” “What the fuck, is that supposed to mean?” you say all but seeing red, trying but failing not to yell.

He tongues his cheek and turns to walk back to his desk, very much done with the subject, but you were far from it.

“No!” you say following him. “You can’t just say that and then walk away. Explain yourself.” “I don’t know what the fuck is going on out here but it’s going to end right now.” Captain Kim Namjoon says sternly from his office doorway, arms crossed tight on his chest. “Our apologies, Sir.” you say, both of you bowing at him.

“Y/n, you look frazzled, go home and walk it off.” he offers pointing at the door. “Captain, we’ll drop it. I-” “It wasn’t a suggestion, Officer y/l.” he interrupts. “I expect you’ll be better tomorrow.” his voice a little softer now.

“Yes, Sir.” you bow again, and turn on your heals quickly, avoiding Tae entering your line of vision.

You white knuckle your steering wheel your whole drive home, you’re probably speeding but you can’t be bothered to check. What are you gonna do? Get pulled over?

When your car is parked, you fish your phone out of your pocket. You pull up Jungkook’s contact and your finger hovers over the call button for a second, but you can’t bring yourself to press it with him having been so happy when you two parted less than an hour ago. You opt for seeking comfort from someone else.

You (3:32pm): I need you

Jimin (3:35pm): I’m off in an hour <3 — Your chest rises and falls rapidly while you stare at Jimin’s ceiling, waiting for the normal relief that settles after you two have sex.

But even after you’ve caught your breath you still don’t feel it, the sweat covering your body starting to feel less like afterglow and more like guilt. Why won’t my chest unknot? We’ve hate-fucked countless times. What’s different?

You brush it off shaking your head in the hopes you can trick yourself into feeling normal, before you stand up to gather your clothes. You shudder at how sticky your skin feels against itself as you button up your shirt.

You decide some fresh air would do you good, and you open his bedroom window and take a breath and let the flowers outside fill your nose.

“You okay, beautiful?” Jimin’s voice sounds from behind you. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” you say before you can fully register what you’re saying. You turn to him, his towel hanging lowly on his hips and the hand tousling his damp hair stops in its tracks, his eyes widen. “Is the sex not good anymore? I thought you liked it when I bit your ass.” he chuckles through his worry. His joke makes you soften a little. “No, it’s not anything you did.” you say walking over to hold his hands. “Remember how I said I was doing better?” he nods, his worry fades into a smile. “Turns out that’s more true than I thought it was.” you say and as the words leave your mouth, your body finds that relief it was looking for. Feeling like, for the first time in forever you don’t need to escape your own mind for a minute to function. “Is there a guy?” he quirks a mischievous brow. “Are you ready to be monogamous?” he gasps dramatically. You shove his shoulder while he giggles. “No guy, I just…” you think for a moment. “Don’t need to forget anymore.” you breathe, lungs feeling lighter, and he smiles brightly.

He hugs you tightly. “I really am proud of you, y/n.” he says into your hair. You smile against his shoulder. “Me too.”

You break the hug and he frowns slightly. “Guess it’s you and me for a while now bud.” he says looking at his palm.

“Jimin, I just had an emotional epiphany, and it only took you two seconds to be gross again?” “That’s why you love me.” he laughs trying to give you another hug. You laugh, pushing him by the shoulders. “Fuck off, Park.” — The sun hits your skin warming it despite the cool breeze, music playing your ears as your feet keep a steady rhythm against the pavement below you. Your late morning jog becoming more of a nature walk with the changing seasons. The greenery returning and the sweet smell it provides makes your limbs feel a bit lighter. You nearly throw a punch when someone starts jogging next to you. You stumble slightly after you nearly run into a sign. When you pull your ear buds out he’s laughing at you.

“Careful there.” Jungkook laughs, continuing to match your pace. “You scared the fuck out of me.” you huff steadying yourself. “What are you doing?” “Um-” He looks at you and then his feet. “Jogging?”

“Astute observation,” you smile in spite of yourself. “I mean why are you following me, creep?” you laugh. “I was jogging on the other side of the street and when I saw you I thought I’d join.” he shrugs. “I guess that’s allowed.” Neither of you talks for a few minutes, nothing but your shoes fitting the sidewalk and your heavy breaths filling your ears.

Normally with a silence like this your mind would shuffle through the files of your mind, bringing a similar memory to the forefront, good or bad. But you come up blank. You inhale deeply deciding to file this under ‘Something New.’

“Are you getting tired?” He asks. “No?”

“Good.” he smiles and tries to wink before he picks up his pace, pulling ahead of you. “A race? What are you, twelve?” you laugh running faster.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over me winning!” he calls over his shoulder, and you groan at the considerable distance he’s put between you.

“You’re an asshole!” you pick up your speed fully running ahead of him.

You laugh and chase each other halfway across town, if you could see how you look you would probably be embarrassed, but you can’t be bothered to think about anything but the wind hitting your face and the idiot you’re running with.

He stops in front of a small market, and contrary to how you struggle to catch your breath, your lungs feel fuller than they have in years.

“Do you wanna get ice cream?” he questions, eyeing the banner in the store window.

“Won’t that negate all the exercise we just did?” you breathe, wiping sweat off your forehead. “And?” “You make a strong argument.” you say pushing the door to the corner store open and sighing when the air condition hits you like a refreshing wall. You walk straight to the large freezer to pick out your respective flavors.

You wordlessly decide to walk home in favor of more running, talking about nothing between bites of your cold treats, and you can’t help but think the flowers smell a little sweeter. — You have more work to catch up on than you normally do, you opt for having lunch at your desk so you can work through your break. You have your lunch to your side as your fingers click away on your keyboard.

Something being placed gently on your desk draws your attention away from your screen. You look over too a coffee cup with ‘I’m sorry’ written on it and with a sheepish looking Tae with his hand still wrapped around it. “I’m sorry.” he says looking guilty. “Tae-”

“I acted like a complete ass the other day.” he interrupts before you can even fully think of a response. “Well I won’t argue with that.” you soften and he looks the slightest bit relieved. “I just care about you, and I don’t trust him.” he reiterates his statement from a few days prior.

“This apology was going so well.” you half laugh.

“But!” he adds quickly. “But, I trust you. And if you trust him, then that’s good enough for me.” he says with large eyes, nudging the coffee toward you in the hopes you’ll accept his regret. “Thank you, Tae.” you say taking a sip of the bittersweet drink, appreciating his sincerity. Truth be told, you had already begun to forgive him, he just wants you to be happy. If he expresses his concerns in a less assholistic way next time, you’d be happy to listen. “And I won’t stand in your way if you want to date him.” he smiles. “Like you could, I can kick your ass Kim.” you laugh. “And what is it with you and us dating? I promise you, it’s not like that.”

“Awfully defensive for someone who has no reason to be.” he eyes you with a stupid smirk.

“I just forgave you, don’t push it.” you point a finger and he raises his hands in defense though he doesn’t drop the taunting smirk on his face. He walks backwards to his desk and sits in his chair giving you a nod as one last confirmation that you’ve forgiven him. You continue your work, the air feeling light in the station for the first time since your fight. So focused on your pile of tasks you don’t even notice it’s dark out until the phone rings and makes you look up from your computer.

“Hello, this is Officer y/l.”

“Hello dear, this is Mrs. Choi.” she says sweetly. It’s like clockwork with this fucking lady. “Could you possibly send an officer to this side of town? I saw a young man in a black hoodie hop the fence to the old place.” Well that is far more description than usual.

“Of course, I’ll go make sure everything is okay.” you reassure.

“It’s appreciated as always, Miss y/n.” she says before she hangs up.

“Mrs. Choi?” Tae asks lazily, not even lifting his eyes from his computer.

“Yep.” you say tossing your jacket on.

“Do you want me to check on it?” now he’s looking at you, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“No, I’ll be fine.” you smile. More than fine this time.

Your drive to the old house feels way more like a normal patrol than it ever has, the air feeling like a fog has been cleared. Or perhaps you’re just getting a little too used to Mrs. Choi’s usual request.

You walk down the familiar dirt driveway and your eyebrows furrow when you see a light in the window. Incredible, the old woman who cried wolf is actually right.

“Police!” you shout before you turn the doorknob, your guard not too high as you’re expecting a harmless teenager. Though you’re surprised when you find Jungkook sitting against the wall at the edge of the tattered living room, his legs bent with his forearms resting on them and a bottle of whiskey by his hip. “I’m not here to damage any property.” he says calmly, raising his hands above his head in a lazy surrender. “What are you doing here?” you ask and point your flashlight at the ceiling to better light the space, the light on his phone not doing very much by itself.

“It was something of a quiet place for me. I guess old habits die hard.” he said patting the dusty wall he’s leaning against.

“It was for me too.” you breathe, you look around the room taking in how it’s become even more run down and not quite as beautiful as you remember but breathtaking even without the fantastical dream cloud your memories have become muddled with. “Did he bring you here too?” he looks at you through his messy hair, much more practiced than you at bringing Yoongi up in conversation.

“Yeah he did.” you smile fondly. “We used to have picnics here all the time during the summer.”

“Sounds romantic.” he says, with a comedic scoff.

“Hey, for a sixteen year old? Peak romance.” you retort and he chuckles, letting his head fall against the wall. “He never told me he brought you here too.” you furrow your brows. “Makes sense though, it was his favorite place.” “Yeah, he brought me here a few times when he could ‘remove the stick from my ass.’” he laughs at the memory. “I never understood, there’s about three inches of dust on everything and all the windows are cracked.” he shakes his head. “But after he was gone, it was the most peaceful place I could find. There’s no place as serene as these four shitty walls.” he smiles looking up at you. “It was far less peaceful for me after the accident. The silence coming from this place was deafening for a long time.” you take a seat next to him. “But it’s not so bad anymore.” you hum, eyes scanning the room. You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes letting the sound of the crickets fill your ears, doing your best to not disrupt the stillness around you.

“I want to thank you.” your mouth making the decisions for you once again. “I missed you a lot and spending time with you has been really nice. I’ve been able to face things again that I didn’t think I ever would.” you steady your breath. “So, thank you.”

“I should thank you too.” he begins, and you turn to watch the way his profile moves when he speaks. “I can’t recall a time I smiled when thinking of him. It feels nice to reminisce, not just remember and wish he was still here.”

“God, he wouldn’t recognize either of us.” you say looking down at your uniform and Jungkook’s dirtied jeans.

“He’d kick both our asses.” you laugh.

“You know for a long time,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I was upset because I lost the boy I was in love with.” he shifts a bit. “But somewhere along the way, it became less about being in love and more that someone I cared for so deeply was gone. I don’t know when or where I fell out of love, but it took me a long time to realize that I had.” “I don’t think falling in or out of love can be pinned to a single moment. You just kinda have to take a step back every so often to assess how fucked you currently are.” he laughs, leaning his head on yours. “How vulgar yet profound.” you smile and lace your fingers together. Your mind is running at a dull roar. You had never actually said you weren’t in love with Yoongi out loud before, not even to yourself. You suppose on some level you’ve known for years but saying it made you aware of just how true it was, like you’d been standing on a diving board for ages and finally took the leap that wasn’t so scary after all. You’d still give your left arm to have him there with you now, whether you were still just as in love or maybe just a friend. You still loved him but maybe… I’m not in love anymore. Before you have a chance to explore that thought further you feel Jungkook’s lips on yours, you gasp slightly and move your mouth with his, humming at how soft his lips are.

Despite your realization, when you close your eyes you’re overwhelmed with how familiar this feels. The stale smell of the wood around you and images of Yoongi kissing you right where you’re sitting flashing through your mind. Suddenly your heart is beating in your ears and just as quickly as it began you break the kiss.

“Fuck, y/n I’m so sorry.” he says when his eyes meet yours again. “No don’t be, it’s okay.” you say, trying but failing to keep your voice steady as you stand. He gets up to follow you but his feet seem to be stuck. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t worry about it.” you force a smile. “I should get back to work, I’ll see you Guk.” You say trying to ignore how your throat wants to close. He doesn’t answer, just watches as you close the door behind you, leaving him alone in the empty house. The sense of serenity he found within these walls fades as the light of your flashlight gets further away.

You pull out of the driveway, and remember why you were here in the first place when you see Mrs. Choi’s house across the street. You decide to say fuck it and drive back to the station and hope that she just went to bed. — You (2:30am): Sorry I left. I just need to think

Jungkook (2:37am): No I’m sorry, take your time

You read the same two texts over for what has to be the three hundredth time in the last few days. For a long time you stared at it unsure if you should respond, and then too much time had passed.

Not even texting could be simple with Jungkook.

But where the paradox lies is, if you stop thinking, the smile you hold when you’re with him is the simplest thing you’ve ever done.

Just like the texts you play the kiss in your mind on a loop, your lips tingling at the memory. The old house under your feet and Jungkook’s arms around you crosses too many wires in your brain for anything to make sense.

All you know is… when he kissed your lips you felt like you could breathe again. — You’re sitting on your couch when you hear a frantic knocking at your door. You jump at the sound and check the time. 11:30? What the hell? Your training kicks in and you approach your door and open it slowly.

“Okay listen, I’m so fucking sorry.” Jungkook rambles frantically pushing past you beginning to pace around your living room. “It was fucked up to kiss you, but I just- your eyes looked so beautiful and- shit that’s not the point.” he runs a hand through his hair trying to collect his thoughts. “Guk, it’s okay. You don’t need to-”

“I know what I did was shitty but we haven’t talked in days, and I can’t bear to not have you in my life again.” he’s on the verge of yelling at this point. “This time since I’ve been home with you is the most alive I’ve felt since I was fucking fifteen.”

“I’m not upset with y-”

“I know, I wouldn’t forgive me either, but I needed to try and-”

“Oh for fucks sake.” you mumble as he continues to ramble. You take in a breath. “I wanted you to kiss me!”

“I-” he finally stops, nearly out of breath. “You what?” “I wanted you to kiss me, that’s what scared me.” you clarify now that he’s listening.

He just blinks unsure of what to say. He imagined this going far differently, something more along the mine of you slamming the door in his face, but you didn’t and his heart swells as he takes in your words. “I want it too.” you continue though you’re unsure where you’re going. “I love you, Jungkook, and I can’t get your stupid pretty smile out of my head and-”

“You love me?” the words falling from his mouth softly, and his gaze fixes on your face.

“Yes.” you breathe realizing what you just said. “And it scares the shit out of me.”

“How do you think I feel? I’m in love with my deceased brother’s ex.” he counters, laughing at how ridiculous your situation is, and your heart can’t help but race at his bittersweet words. “But you’re the first time I’ve felt home in forever.” he says, his eyes hiding behind messy bangs.

“Me too.” you admit, and the air in your lungs feels lighter. “I know he would want us to follow our hearts but… like this?” you ask sheepishly, maintaining the distance between you as if neither of you are allowed to cross the invisible threshold.

“I think that even if you guys got the opportunity to break up like two normal ass teenagers…” he begins, his face full of concern but his eyes filled with the hope that you’ll agree. “He always wanted everyone he cared about to be happy, and fuck y/n, you make me so happy. You always have.” There’s those stars again.

“But I feel guilty.” your eyes threatening to water for the first time in a long time, and your lips tingle at the memory of Jungkook’s lips on yours. “Me too.” he takes a step closer to you. “But we don’t have to. We can-” “No, you don’t understand.” you interrupt and he deflates. “I feel guilty because even though we’re talking about him… I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want you to kiss me again.” “Fuck, okay.” he says as if you had just stolen the air from his lungs. He quickly closes the gap between you and reconnects your lips. You put your arms around his neck and attempt to pull him as close as you can, his hands are warm on your jaw and the dream cloud in your mind feels as if it’s been wrapped around the two of you. A blanket of home that you didn’t know had been missing until you had it again.

You run your fingers through his hair and savor how it feels in your hands. He licks into your mouth and his heavy breaths feel hot between kisses. He feels almost frantic as you feel his nails gently dig into the sides of your neck, as though you’d slip out of his grasp if he doesn’t tighten his grip, the dull pressure making you moan into his mouth.

You put your hands on his and he relaxes his fingers. You pull his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging it lightly and he groans at the sensation, your thighs rub together at how you’re affecting him.

You wordlessly guide him to the couch and nudge him gently until his shoulders are flush with the back of the couch. You straddle him and his thighs flex underneath your ass, you resist the urge to grind down onto him in favor of kissing along his jaw.

His tense shoulders release under your hands as your lips continue their path to his neck. Your teeth graze his skin and his breath catches in your ear, you smirk and bite down harder. His hands quickly grab onto your hips squeezing them in tandem with your mouth, you run your tongue along his reddened skin and your sounds create the most beautiful harmony you’ve ever heard.

Your hips give into temptation and grind down on his hardened dick, the layers between you not doing much in the way of friction but the way his hands tighten around your waist send heat through you melting you from the inside out.

Your hand snakes between you to palm him through his jeans and you move your head up to face him, to see how sweet he looks with his eyes squeezed shut and lips parted from your touch. He reconnects your mouths and the kiss is messy as neither of you can properly think.

You break the kiss and quickly slip to your knees between his thighs. You tuck your fingers into his waistband and pause your movement, eyes searching for his. “Is this okay?” you ask with a slight tug to his pants, he answers by smirking lazily and helping you slide them down his hips.

You pull his boxers down and your mouth waters when you see his dick, the tip a frustrated shade of red. You run your tongue along the thick vein on the underside of this length, wrapping your lips around it when you reach the tip. He groans as if he’s relieved to finally have your lips wrapped around him. He grips your hair tightly, fingers flexing against your scalp as he fights the urge to push your head down to his base.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good, sweetheart.” he says out of breath, working against his flexing abdomen to keep his voice steady. You hum around him in response making his hips stutter against your mouth, and arousal pools at your core.

You sink your mouth as far down as you can and he moans deeply holding your head in place beginning to thrust into your mouth to test the waters. You grip his thighs to ground yourself and do your best to ignore the way your lungs are beginning to burn. He picks up his pace and you take his cock in your throat until tears prick in your eyes. You tap his thigh and he takes the hint releasing your head so you can breath again.

“You like having your pretty mouth fucked, don’t you?” he questions as he wipes a tear from your eye with his thumb. You nod eagerly and move to take his cock back in your mouth but his grip on your hair stops you. “Patience beautiful,” his eyes darken looking at your swollen lips. “Open.” he says, his voice low. You oblige, flatting your tongue for good measure, he spits in your mouth and his cock twitches at the sight. He lowers your lips back on his dick, the extra wetness making him groan at how messy you look, and you try to keep your throat as relaxed as you can, doing your best to ignore the growing arousal between your legs.

He breaks his assault on your mouth, pulling your head up with a wet pop and you gasp. “Can I taste you too, sweetheart?” he asks sweetly despite how ready he looks to devour you.

“Yes Sir.” you answer and his pupils twitch at the name.

“You’re gonna ruin me.” he laughs stiffly, releasing your hair and you realize how sore your scalp is.

You stand on shaky legs, he sheds his shirt and you follow suit before laying on the couch in front of him. You tuck your fingers in your waistband but he stops you. “Let me.” He says his eyes softening and you relent.

He puts his large palm on your waist and kisses your lips slowly contradicting his previous actions. He leaves hot open mouthed kisses on your neck and down your chest, the wet trail he leaves behind feeling cold when the air hits it. He wraps his mouth around one of your hardened nipples, swirling his tongue and teasing his teeth on the sensitive skin.

Your moan catches in your throat as he bites down and your hand tangles in his hair trying to pull him closer. His free hand runs up your arm removing it from his head and pinning against the cushion gently, you lace your fingers together and you can feel him smile against your chest.

His mouth doing little to relieve the real fire you’re feeling growing deep in your abdomen. You give into the urge to move your hips against his waist and he chuckles deeply taking the hint and continuing his path down your stomach, nipping at your skin when he reaches the hem of your pants.

His breathing picks up again as he slips your pants down your legs and the wet spot on your underwear is exposed to his gaze. He takes his time removing your panties, reveling in the string of your slick that follows. “Such a pretty pussy.” he breathes quietly just to himself.

He tosses them on the floor and eagerly puts your thighs on his shoulders placing gentle pecks anywhere but where you need his mouth. You roll your hips to meet his face and he smirks darkly at your frustration. After properly enjoying your wordless plea he gives you what you want, licking a long flat stripe from your entrance to your clit and you whine at the small bit of relief he’s giving you.

“Did you get this wet just from sucking my cock, sweetheart?” you deflate slightly at his teasing and nod, clenching around nothing at his words. He swallows a groan at the sight in front of him.

He wastes no time wrapping his lips around your clit, swirling tongue in delicious circles. A moan rips out of your throat at the sudden stimulation and he groans wrapping his arms tighter around your thighs.

You move your hips against his face and he shifts his mouth to collect your juices on his tongue before moving back up to your clit. You fight how your thighs want to close around his head but he only presses himself further into you at the shaking against his ears.

You feel him at your entrance, stretching you slowly with two fingers as he continues his work on your clit. He curls his digits into you and your hips buck at the sensation.

“That’s my good girl, fuck yourself on my tongue.” he moans into your folds, flattening his tongue for you to use. He picks up the pace of his hand and you rut against his mouth. The sounds you’ve been swallowing down flowing out of your lips before you can stop them.

“Jungkook, fuck!” you whine and he scissors his fingers faster to bring you to your rapidly approaching peak. Your walls clench and your rhythm falters, he wraps his lips around your clit sucking as he does. Your orgasm rips through you and onto his fingers with a loud moan.

“You’re so beautiful.” he says breathless, he almost sounds amazed that someone can look so beautiful when they cum.

He quickly climbs over you, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand and reconnecting your lips as soon as he reaches your face, he can’t get enough of your lips and you moan at your taste on his mouth.

He slips his pants down his legs, and lines himself up with your entrance, gasping at your wetness on his painfully hard cock. His eyes widen “I didn’t bring a-”

“I’m on the pill.” you reassure, grinding up against his dick.

“Thank fuck.” he sighs, pushing his cock in as he does. Your eyes close at the stretch he’s providing. He pushes in rather slowly savoring every small clench and twitch your walls give him.

He’s quick to pick up the pace seeing as you were more than happy when he was rough earlier. You moan at how well he fucks into you, you hold onto his arms as you’re afraid you’ll float away if you don’t anchor yourself. He smacks his hips against you harder and you gasp at how deep he is, trying your best not to yelp.

He wraps his arm around your back and takes a handful of your hair, yanking against your sore scalp until your chin is pointing at the ceiling, and you can’t contain your moans with your neck so open. “Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Give me all those beautiful sounds.” he says into your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck.

With your new position you’re a moaning mess underneath him and you feel him smirk against your skin as he delivers particularly hard thrusts, the sound of your moans and slapping skin filling the room..

He continues his relentless pace, watching you in awe. “Such a pretty slut.” he groans. “Look at you falling apart on my cock.” you can only whimper in response. He rubs your clit so he can watch your eyes roll back, doing his best to ignore his approaching orgasm so he can feel you cum again on his cock.

“I’m- fucking- I’m gonna-.” you try to warn doing your best to keep your voice steady.

“Good girl, cum for me, beautiful.” he soothes, lacing his finger with yours, mumbling praises into your ear as you clench around him, his hips work hard to keep their pace through your orgasm.

With his not far behind, he thrusts faster finally letting go. He reconnects your lips, the kiss hot and messy as his end is finally in sight.

His hips stutter. “I love you.” He breathes as he releases into you, falling against you shortly after and you laugh, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes while he catches his breath.

“I love you, too.” you whisper and he hums holding you tightly.

“I could get used to hearing that.” he smiles brightly, before he kisses you slowly. — “So…” you begin after the two of you are showered. Jungkook is sitting on the end of your bed ruffling his damp hair. “So?” he perks up, taking your hands in his. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you say squeezing his hands, still a little nervous despite the several ‘I love you’s and how your heart pounds when you look in eyes. Still a little nervous that if you hold on too tight he’ll slip through your fingers. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” he says leaning into your touch, and his words calm your racing heart.

“Okay.” you smile brightly, and he can’t help but mirror you.

“Hey.” he says, making sure you’re giving him your full attention, and you meet his gaze. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” — You stand next to Jungkook, fingers laced tightly together, as you stare down the familiar dirt driveway.

“You ready?” he asks, still looking straight ahead at the chicken wire fence.

“No.”

“Yeah, me either.”

He squeezes your hand in his as you walk through the dirt and into the old house, same as you left it. You walk past the living room into the furthest bedroom where Yoongi’s mark is most prominent in the house. You stop at the corner where he carved that heart in the wall that, besides some dust, looks just like the day he put it there.

“Hi Hyung,” Jungkook begins. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to talk to you in a long time.” he looks a tad nervous as if he’ll be reprimanded, he squeezes your hand and you rub your thumb over his knuckles. “I found her,” he says, sounding more sure of himself. “And I wanted you to meet her. Are you surprised?”

“We are too.” you breathe out a laugh. “Hey Yoongs,” your voice is a little shaky. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, I just didn’t know how.” you breathe. “I miss you, and I want you to know that I’m happy.” you reassure, remembering how he always checked. “We’re happy.” you put your other hand on Jungkook’s.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.” He adds, placing a kiss on your temple.

“And I’ll take care of him.” you say, and you both put your hand on the heart gently. That final breath that was taken from you those years ago returns and your lungs finally feel full again, and you open your mouth to speak.

“I love you, angel.”

————————

A/N -> Hello! I hope you liked it!!! I’m really proud of this one, feel more than free to send me an ask with your thoughts, I’d love to know what you thought. <3

Tag List -> @ancailinaerach @kpopfanfictionhoes @bunnyboyenthusiast @singularity-mp3

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witchcraft-in-wonderland · 4 years ago

Text

Ships and Shells (Pt.1)

-------------------------

There were a great many things that Virgil didnt know, how to solve complex math equations, how to balance a book on his head, how the ocean could be so close to him yet so obscenely far. Really that was what confused him, a title of 'Prince of the Seas' and yet he hadnt set foot near one once in his life.

For a kingdom based so heavily around aquaculture, it was rather odd that his parents seemed to fear water more than they feared the idea of poison in their goblets.

Of course, that didnt mean they'd halted the economy all together, oh no, it was perfectly alright for other people to do the dirty work of the oceans, so long as the nobility stayed away from it.

But that's the thing about keeping an eighteen year old boy trapped in an expansive palace with windows pointing out to a place he wasnt allowed to go. It never worked.

In the case of this particular rebellion, Virgil had strayed off nearly every day at night to watch the tides, to feel the water on his feet, to call out to the distant shore that seemed oh so welcoming when he wasnt allowed to accept its invitations.

And if he couldnt sneak out, he watched ships dock and leave from the harbor as often as he could, his mind swimming with ideas of what it might be like.

"But mother I dont want to go to my classes! The instructor is all boring and- creepy-" Virgil complained, dragging his nails along the table and pouting slightly.

"Well if you didnt want extra classes than maybe you shouldve paid more attention the first time," the queen responded coldly.

"Well how can I! You've placed the classroom right next to the ocean! If you wanted me to pay attention so badly why would you give me a view like that!" Virgil responded, throwing his arms up.

"Well I'd expect you to have a little more self control than that!" And that settled it, if Virgil's mother was mad, there would be no further questions. Virgil mumbled a bit before he stormed off to his classes, fidgeting with his hoodie strings as he walked.

Of course, he still didnt pay a single lick of attention, simply stared out of the window and cringed at his professor's comments until it was over.

And then it happened, he'd walked out of the study, and heard a loud crash from outside. He raced to a farther window, pressing his face against the glass.

A large black ship was docked in the harbor, and the harbor itself, was on fire.

Virgil had to duck as something hit the window, a quick look allowed him to recognize it as a grappling hook. So Virgil began to run as fast as he could, watching pirates was one thing, getting taken by them was another.

Unfortunately for Virgil, he was fast, but pirates with ropes were much faster. Virgil froze as he heard boots land on the floor in front of him, and attempted to turn back in the other direction, only to run into another pirate.

"Aaawwweee, poor thing, he thinks we're gonna hurt him doesnt he!" Said one of the pirates, cackling. Virgil looked up and spat in his face. The man blinked, pouting slightly.

"Well fine, since you want to be so rude about it, Janus? Roman?" The man looked over Virgil's shoulder, Virgil attempted to break into a run again, only for his arm to get caught by someone else. He swilling around and attempted to bite his captor, only to feel someone else press against his neck, his vision went spotty, and then faded entirely.

He woke up in a cell, the smell of salt water filled his nostrils, he had cloth wrapped around his mouth, wrists, and ankles.

"Terribly sorry for the lackluster greeting, we're not used to skittering mice," Virgil glared at the man standing outside of his cell.

"Gee, you could kill a man with those eyes," the man cackled. Virgil let out a low snarl.

"Oooohhh, I'm shaking in my boots!" The man leaned against the cell, lifting on leg up and propping it on a barrel behind him.

"Tell me, what exactly do you think you'll be able to do to me when you're stuck in there, and even if you were out, pompous prince like you couldnt even throw a proper punch," the pirate said with a grin, Virgil noticed silver fangs glinting at the front of his mouth. Virgil lunged at him slightly, only to end up falling on his face. The silver-fanged man let out another sickening cackle.

"And dont get any ideas about escaping, you're on Captain Remus Duke-Prince Kingsley's ship now, and you'll abide by my rules, or you'll find yourself hanging from a fish hook off the hull," the Captain's voice took on a sudden threatening tone that sent chills down Virgil's spine. Virgil watched as Remus turned on his heel and strode out of the room, wishing ever so intensely that he couldve broken his bonds and strangled the man before he even set foot outside the door.

It felt as though Virgil had been alone in that cell for hours before someone showed up, he was short, with messy auburn hair and bright green eyes. He looked guilty, sad even.

"Here's your food, I'll uh- get that cloth off now-" he stammered, slipping the tray through a slot in the cell, Virgil turned his back to the man, waiting patiently as he felt the man's fingers working through the cloth bindings. Almost as soon as he felt the last piece of cloth fall from his body he bolted upright and tried to push his way through the cage bars. The man who'd delivered his food gave him a pitying look, but didnt stop him. It wasnt until Virgil had managed to tire himself put and collapse onto the floor that he spoke.

"Well, I suppose if you're quite finished, youd like to ask questions, then?" He said, raising an eyebrow. His face was soft, even the mildly annoyed look spread across it now didnt take away from the rosy flush of his cheeks, nor the faint glimmer of his irises.

"Yeah, question one, what the hell do you think you're playing at," Virgil said, slamming his arm against the cage bars again, ignoring the vibration it sent through his body.

"Ok, dont get mad, which is probably a redundant statement since you already look like you're going to explode, but, I cant answer that particular question yet," he said, the guilty expression quickly resurfacing.

"Ok, sure, fine, can you at least tell me what you need me for? Because it clearly isnt a ransom or I'd already be dead," Virgil grumbled, smirking slightly at the worry this seemed to cause the man.

"Well uh, I dont have all of the details, but uh- well- Remus says- I think- we need your help with something? Like- finding something, he says we cant do it unless you're with us," the man stuttered, shifting his feet on the ground.

"Oh really? So if I were to- say, remove myself from the equation, you'd be at a loss hm?" Virgil said, the man let out a terrified squeak. Virgil gave a merciless laugh, for a pirate, whoever this man was, he was nowhere near as threatening as his captain.

"Well uh- yes- that's, how I assume it would work- but uh- I dont think it would be very beneficial to you either-" the man continued, his boots now tapping more frequently on the ground.

"You and I have very different ideas of beneficial," Virgil replied.

"Roman? Is everything alright my darling?" Virgil paused as he heard another voice, this one deeper, almost silky in tone.

"I'm alright Janus-" Roman replied, Virgil heard shuffling.

"Are you going to eat? I dont think it wise to starve yourself, after all, a prince of the seas die in the middle of the ocean? There are far less ironic alternatives, and with much more bravado than that," Janus said, Virgil muttered a bit before he turned to the tray, which was, by some odd miracle, still hot. He glanced in the direction of his co-captors to get a better look at the second figure. Janus was tall, with wavy brown hair that was parted to the right, the left side was shaved, there was a very prominent yellow snake skull drawn on the right side of his face as well, and he, to, had metallic fangs, though his were gold, and were visible even with his mouth closed, Roman, it seemed, had no such additions. Virgil eyed them both carefully before he started eating, and he hadnt realized how hungry he was till that exact second.

"And dont worry about excercise, you'll only be trapped here until we're in the next town, of course you wont be getting off the ship, so dont get any ideas," Janus said calmly.

"And what makes you think you can stop me?" Virgil said, glaring up at him.

"Who exactly do you think incapacitated you upon our arrival at the castle?" Janus said plainly, flexing his hands, upon which were gold accents that seemed to trace it like a skeleton.

"Well, enjoy your meal, and dont sit still for to long, it gets dreadfully uncomfortable for your joints to get that stiff," and with that, the pair were gone, Janus fixing his hat, and Roman clinging to Janus' arm like a lovestruck puppy.

And there was Virgil, alone, and very much unhappy.

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#cori writes #long post #ships and shells #ts remus #ts virgil #ts sides #ts janus #ts roman #tw kidnapping #tw drowning mention #tw suicide mention #roceit #romantic roceit #dukexiety #future dukexiety #romantic dukexiety #tw blood

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tomtenadia · 4 years ago

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Island Dreams - Chapter 3

Hi all and welcome to chapter 3.

So, thing are starting to happen and, alas, angst has decided to come and pay a visit. I used HoF for a bit of inspiration.

Some Gaelic for you: suidh sìos - sit down

The light issue at the very beginning: Yes, in Scotland, in the summer, it can get quite difficult to sleep. Day are super long and it's easy to have light until late and back again at 3am.

I have read it twice before posting. But I had a very long day at work and if I have left some typos I apologise.

Happy reading!

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Aelin had woken up early that morning. She had forgotten to close the curtains the previous night. She had gotten home quite late from her trip and she was grateful that the supermarket stayed open until late because she still had to buy food for the house. She had whipped up a quick dinner, a shower and then she had tucked herself on the chair in her room. It was so bright outside that she could not force herself to go to bed. Eventually tiredness caught up with her and she gave up. Because she forgot to close the curtains, now it was broad daylight even if it was just 4am. She rolled on the other side and tucked her head under the pillow and went back to sleep. She awoke again two hours later. Apparently the adrenaline of being in a new place was too much. So she got up and decided she could go for a run. She donned her running clothes and she left the house. She had spotted a place called Lews castle and from the map it seemed the perfect place for a run in a park. Aelin followed the marina cut through the town centre, passed Rowan’s shop and ended up near the river. Then crossed the small bridge to reach Lews’ castle grounds. Quickly she took a mental note of the fact that the place was a museum and added it to the list of places to visit, which by the way was getting longer by the minute and kept running a good hour until her body started to protest. The day was gorgeous again and they were blessed with a stunning blue sky. Aelin ran found her way back to a road that took her on a pier along the sea. Finally decided to sit at the bench and relaxed a bit, taking a full mouthful from her water bottle. In London she had little chance of running in parks so she had to use a gym but here… she could run in the nature and it made all the difference.

A few elderly people greeted her as they passed the bench and that was something else that stunned her. Complete strangers greeting her. She removed the headphones from her ears and decided to listen to the sounds of the place around her. She had always considered herself a die-hard city girl. Someone who could never leave the hustle and bustle of the big city. Her soul craved the frenetic life that London gave her. And now, in her early thirties, with her life completely upside down and on pause she was starting to realise that things had changed so much from when she was young. All of sudden her priorities had turned and a quiet life was all she wanted. She needed to slow down. Her ambition had helped her to secure a position quite high in her job. But that ambition had not helped her to reach the top. She had literally given her life to her job. She had sacrificed so much and it had been all for nothing and came to the realisation that she felt lost. For the first time in her life she could not see the path ahead. And that was why she had left. To try and live day by day for a while and learn to enjoy life again hoping that life in a quiet place like Stornoway would give her purpose again. “Oh Aelin, stop maudlin.” She told herself, getting fed up with the dark twist her thoughts had taken. She sighed and stood and started running again, tracing her path back to the town centre. Eventually went back to the house, took a shower and an hour later she was ready to head off to Maeve’s for breakfast. She was quite eager to taste her cakes. The woman had given her a slice of a chocolate cake the day before and Aelin had admitted it was of the best cakes she had ever tasted.

Twenty minutes later she reached the coffee shop and was happy to see that it was open. It was just about 9am and wasn’t not sure yet when life on the islands actually started. “Madainn mhath” she said, feeling like an idiot for her horrendous pronunciation. Once she noticed the shop was empty she felt better. At least she did not embarrassed herself in front of an audience. “Oh, Madainn mhath, a Aelin.” Said the woman from behind the counter “Are you here for breakfast?” Aelin took a seat at a table near the counter “Yes, but not Scottish breakfast this morning. I don’t think I can survive it tow mornings in a row.” Maeve laughed “I made some lovely apple turnovers, fancy one?” Aelin’s mouth began watering. If they were as good as the cake… “Make it two. I went for a run and I am starving.” Maeve disappeared through the back and came back a bit later with a tray with a mug of coffee and the apple turnovers. “I am going to get so fat.” She said out loud and then began tackling her breakfast and listened to the music in the background. It was a female singer and she sang in what Aelin was positive was Gaelic. Rowan was right. It was such a beautiful language and sung was even better. “Who is the singer?” “She is Julie Fowlis. She is from North Uist and sings mostly in Gaelic. She is a great singer.” The tune was slow and it seemed quite sad. “This song is called Mo Dhòmhnallan Fhèin, and it means My own Donald. It’s a sad love story.” “It’s beautiful.” She commented and corrected herself quickly “The language, I mean, not the sad love story.” “Ask Rowan and he will give you plenty of suggestions of bands you can discover if you want to listen to locals or Gaelic singers.” The woman explained and took a seat in front of her sipping her own cup of coffee. Aelin had such good vibes from the woman. She was very maternal to her and towards Rowan as well. She was curious to know more about their relationship. Something told her that it was deeper than it seemed. “And if you are still here in July you cannot miss Heb Celt. It’s a wonderful festival of Scottish music. It’s a three day event but it brings people from across all of Scotland and oversea as well. “It sounds wonderful.” “You just have to stay a bit longer.” Aelin sighed “I have been here only a day and I already feel as my soul has been stolen by these islands. I…” she paused, she felt like she could talk to Maeve. “I left my life in London for now. I needed a break before crumpling down for good.” Maeve put a hand on Aelin’s arm “As I told you yesterday, this is the perfect life. Island life here is a cure for the soul.” Said the woman squeezing the arm gently “Want to talk about it?” Aelin took a sip of coffee to gather her thoughts “Big job delusion and a bad divorce.” She did not have the mental strength to go into too much detail. It still hurt too much and Lysandra was the only person with whom she could fully talk about her life. “I feel lost and stuck.” A flicker of deep tenderness appeared in Maeve’s eyes “Sounds like you and Rowan could help each other.” Aelin whipped her head in the direction of the woman and stared at her. “He is stuck too.” That’s all Maeve volunteered. The woman stood as soon as a customer entered the shop. She greeted the man and they began a conversation in Gaelic. Aelin was staring at her empty plate and was still pondering about the comment that Maeve made about her nephew. What did she mean by they could help each other? And why was he stuck? She wanted to know more but could not ask him. He seemed like the very reserved type and she had no intention to pry. Once her plate was clear and breakfast over, she stood and was about to leave when Maeve reached her and gave her a take away cup “Could you please bring this to Rowan? He should be opening his shop now.” “Of course.” Aelin said her goodbyes to the woman and left, taking the path to Rowan’s shop. She had to buy the next books in the series anyway so she was just catching two birds with one stone. Once she got to the shop she noticed it was open. She entered and Rowan was at the counter working on the computer. “Madainn mhath.” She tried again. He looked up and noticed her and a brief and quick smile appeared on his lips but not genuine enough to reach his beautiful green eyes. “Morning to you.” He replied almost annoyed. “I bring coffee. Courtesy of your aunt.” Aelin offered him the cup but the reaction she got from him was unexpected. He glared at her “What did you say?” “Coffee from your aunt?” “How do you know Maeve is my aunt?” His tone was now tinged with anger. “She told me.” He ignored the cup of coffee and continued working as if Aelin was not even in the shop “She shouldn’t have.” “Is that a secret?” “It was not her place. And it’s definitely none of your business.” Rowan was mad. It was clear from his facial expression, but she could not understand why such a statement would make him so mad. Aelin placed the cup on the counter with a bit too much force “Don’t worry she did not reveal any big secret. Your fucking perfect life is safe.” He slammed the pen on the desk at her tone “What do you want? You delivered the coffee, your job is done.” Aelin was now fuming.”What do I want?” Her tone dripped vitriol. If he wanted a fight, she was giving him one. “I was being nice.” She put the backpack on her shoulder, ready to leave “I was here to buy the next books in the series I got yesterday. I came here to thank you as well for the suggestions you gave me yesterday because I loved every place you recommended." she took a deep breath and tried to calm her fury "And while I am here how do you say asshole in Gaelic?” She noted his reaction and she knew she had gone too far. That was her bloody problem, she had no filters and sometimes she struggled to connect brain and mouth before speaking. Something she had become pretty good at doing during her many fights with Chaol. Not her proudest moment. He left the counter and went to the shelf where she got the book the day before. He came back a moment later with three books in his hands “I don’t have the last one. I can order it.” “Leave it. I’ll order it on Amazon just to piss you off.” She really had to learn control herself. She took another deep breath “Fine, order it.” He didn’t comment and started typing on the computer. “It should be here in a week. I’ll let Maeve know. You are best chums now.” There was irritation in his voice. He was actually mad at her. “You should expect to see us skipping arm in arm around Stornoway singing bawdy songs pretty soon.” He did not like the joke. Definitely the wrong crowd. “Try and get laid. It helps the mood.” She added and hated herself seconds after it once she remembered what Maeve said. He was stuck too. “I am sorry…” Apologising right away for her horrible comment. She was a bloody idiot. “It’s £21.50” he said flatly and with no emotion in his voice. His eyes were cold and it looked like he could kill her with a stare. He kept the bag with the books for a moment and leaned forward on the counter “Don’t you dare to comment on my life ever again. You are a customer. Nothing more. You are nothing to me.” Aelin felt like crying. Yes, she had been nasty but Rowan was being cruel to her on purpose “There is nothing I can give. Nothing I want to give you.” He added when he noted her hurt expression. Then Rowan finally passed her the bag with the books “Now get out of my sight.” Aelin took the bag in silence and left the store. She walked away and left her feet to lead her. She did not notice she was back at the marina. She found a quite spot on the pier and sat down, her feet dangling. And then the tears came. And she cried. And the tears turned into heavy sobs. She took the phone and called Lysandra, but when the woman did not answered she hugged her legs to her chest and dropped her head on the knees as if to try and hold the pieces together. She was tired. And for a moment she just wanted to disappear.

Rowan was fuming. How dare she? She didn’t know anything about his life. How dare she make such a comment? He closed the store and walked quite angrily to his aunt’s coffee shop. She loved to gossip a bit too much and wondered what she had told Aelin. When he reached the shop he was glad it was not busy, that conversation did not need and audience. “Good morning, darling.” Maeve said in a cheery voice, unaware what was about to hit her. “What did you tell her?” His aunt looked at him with a confused expression. “Aelin. The new girl. You told her you are my aunt. What else did you tell her about my miserable life, eh?” “Rowan, suidh sìos.” Her tone had a hint of command. Her face lost the loving and caring side and Rowan knew he was in trouble. So he obeyed her and sat down at the table like she commanded. “I did not tell her anything. I just told her that you are my nephew. I did not know that was a secret.” She was definitely not happy about him. Maeve sat down in front of him “What did you do?” He looked away, shying away from the conversation. Maeve sighed “Rowan, she is going through a tough moment in her life. Be nice to her. Be nice to each other. She seems like a lovely woman. Why don’t give yourself a second chance?” He still did not answer. “She is just as lost as you are. If you only stopped being mad at the world all the time, she might be the person to show you the way back, both of you.” He was stunned by his aunt’s words. It sounded like Aelin and Maeve really had become good friends already and that his aunt already knew a good deal about the woman. But there was no way he was letting anyone else in again. Not after… he pushed the name away. Even after almost a year it still hurt too much to talk about her. No, he was going to live the rest of his life on his own and on his own terms. “Don’t interfere.” He finally managed “It’s my life. I’ll decide what is best for me. And if my destiny is to become a lonely, grumpy old man, so be it.” He gritted his teeth and fisted his hands cooling down his anger. “I know you still hurt because of what Lyria did. But it has been almost a year…” “Don’t…” he hissed “Don’t ever say her name in front of me. Ever again.” “Rowan…” Maeve put a hand on his arm but he pushed her away. Maeve stood and looked at her nephew stone faced “Mrs MacIver asked me if you can order these for her grandson. It’s his birthday quite soon.” And she passed a note to him. “Fine.” He took the note and stood. “Find the way back, my darling.” Maeve said to him once he was at the door. He ignored the comment and left without a reply.

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aedion x lysandra #lysandra #fluff #angst #throne of glass series

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babybatscreationsv2 · 4 years ago

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A King on a Leash ch10

Marvel | Starker

Tony Stark is a powerful man with a beautiful husband and a loyal crime family, but it looks like he didn’t keep his husband on a short enough leash. After turning Peter lose on a Cuban gang leader, Peter’s life is in danger. The real trouble is that Tony now realizes that Peter is the only thing in this world that he cares about and he never meant for that to happen.

Sequel to A Doll on a String

Rating: Explicit

Full Fic

A Doll on a String

Warnings under the cut*

Warnings: violence and guns

Peter’s POV

Peter sat in front of the mirror, hooking the clasp of his necklace around his neck. He admired the diamonds on his neck as they caught the morning light. If he closed his eyes, he could just remember Tony's lips on his, his back crushed against the wall, the sound of chatter in the next room, all while Tony finally claimed him out in the hall after his performance. One would think having a necklace like that, one clearly meant to represent a collar, would be constricting and scary. But that was the day Peter came alive.

His wedding ring was pretty. It was a daily reminder, a symbol to all who saw it, that Peter was taken. But the diamond necklace, few men could afford anything like it. When you saw it around Peter's neck, you know who he belonged to as sure as having his name tattooed on his throat.

Peter admired the gems with pride. He rubbed a bit of moisturizer into his face. Then he brushed off the white fur of his coat. No suit today. Today, he was Tony's prized possession more than his partner and to be clear Peter didn't mind the sort of reduction in status. Not when they were meeting with Wilson Fisk. Fisk understood Peter's value. He understood his power, his cruelty, his loyalty. Though, he couldn't deny that Fisk looked at him as he would any Boss's wife. A look that was a tad misogynistic. He perceived Peter as feminine and therefore Peter was delicate and to be protected. If nothing else, it served Tony in his endeavor to keep Peter safe from Toomes.

So today's ensemble was one of Peter's first gifts from Tony, the fur coat. He'd replaced the white ankle boots with something new he picked practically straight off the runway. Or at least, Tony did. Tony was the one who kept up with fashion. Peter was fine wearing last year's boots, but Tony would never have his husband be so disrespected by his own clothes. Leather pants and a silk shirt turned the looked into something that was either a fabric nightmare or a visionary statement. Peter was never sure. But he was wealthy enough and high profile enough these days that anything he wore ended up on someone's Pinterest board after a day spent in the gossip mags. A trophy husband if there ever was one.

He met Tony downstairs, enjoying the way his husband eyed him up. "You ready, angel?"

"Ready and willing," he winked. Tony kissed his lips. Then he walked around him to grab his jacket. Peter took it from his hands and helped him into it. He noticed that his arms felt bigger than last he'd noticed. He'd must have been working out more often. He wanted to roll his eyes. Obviously, he was still feeling insecure. Despite their talk, it would probably take time for him to shake the feeling. It would be easier for Peter to just get rid of Harry and be done with it, but staying friends with him would be more likely to help Tony in the end. Let him see that there's nothing to worry about when nothing ever happens.

Happy drove them today. He and Tony went back and forth going over security details. Peter hoped they were just being paranoid. Wilson was unlikely to be a threat, but dining at a restaurant came with risks. Though Peter wondered how well tattooed Latino gangsters would blend in anywhere that Wilson saw fit to dine. They would stick out like a sore thumb. Not that it wasn't possible that they had friends.

The security team went in first. Then someone came to escort each of them from the car and into the building.

The restaurant was full of the same upper class snobs Peter sucked up to at donor events. Well, not now that he knew who was actually keeping the lights on. They were the sort of people who wouldn't be able to describe their waiter after leaving their table because they wouldn't look twice at someone in the service industry. Then again, Tony probably wasn't that different and people probably assumed that Peter was the same. Not that it bothered him. His fur coat was worth as much as a New York penthouse so people could think whatever they liked.

They found Wilson sitting alone near the back. A half wall separated him from the rest of the diners. He stood as they entered, greeting Peter with a kiss on his hand.

"Good to see you again, Wilson." Peter offered his prettiest smile. The man smiled fondly in return.

"Nice to see you in good health," he said. Peter could sense the implication that he knew about the situation with Los Tiburones.

"How are you this morning, Wilson?" Tony asked. They all sat down and a waiter took their drink orders. Peter looked too closely at his face, anxious that he might recognize it.

"Wondering why you're the talk of the town yet again."

"I'm a popular guy."

The waiter brought drinks and took food orders. Peter caught the way everyone at the table and the guards standing around all stiffened in preparation, but nothing happened and the waiter left again.

"Toomes says you're affecting his business."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Toomes let his boys wander around where they shouldn't have been. They're lucky they walked out alive. I'm sure they'll be out of the hospital and back in business in no time."

Wilson chuckled, helping himself to one of the rolls on the table. "They have this honey butter here," he said to Peter. "It's house made and always just right. Not too sweet." He passed the rolls to Peter who took one for himself. He didn't eat a lot of bread, but he wouldn't be rude to Wilson Fisk either.

"I'm sure you're right," he said now to Tony. "Still, let's be cautious about stirring up trouble at a time like this."

"Sure, sure. What about you pissing off that cop?"

Wilson waved his hand. "A pig is a pig. And what do we do with pigs?" He winked at Peter. "We make bacon." He laughed raucously at his own joke. Peter smiled politely.

Plates of food were delivered and conversation slowed as they ate. Half way through his meal Wilson chimed in again. "How is the wedding proceeding between Pepper and your Capo?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Just waiting for your approval I'm sure."

Wilson laughed. "One thing you aren't meant to do is marry within your own family."

"They're a good match," he reasoned.

"You would know what Ms. Potts needs I'm sure." He gave Tony an amused, but no less suggestive look.

"You and Pepper?" Peter raised an eyebrow at his husband.

Tony waved the thought away. "It was more something to get out of our systems than it was a relationship. Pepper and Happy have been dancing around for formalities' sake for too long. So I told them to go for it."

Peter snorted. "You handed me two giant glasses of vodka and sent me after them. They were so sloshed they forgot they weren't the only two people in the room. It took Bucky to separate them before any more clothes came off."

Wilson laughed again, head tossed back. "Young love, eh? No, I'm happy for them. One weakness deserves another."

"Love can be more than weakness, Wilson," Peter said.

Wilson gave him a fond smile. "For you, I'm sure it's every bit strength." He took a bite of sausage. He turned back to Tony. "So, what will you do without your underboss?"

"She hasn't decided yet that she's retiring." Peter couldn't help but notice how guarded his body language was. Still and drawn in. Was it the conversation or had he noticed something in the room?

"She will," he nodded. "She'll want children, a real home, something quiet and away from the trouble."

"If that's what she decides, then I'll make sure she has it."

"And who will take up the mantle?" Wilson spared a glance at Peter.

"That hasn't been decided yet, either."

"Hm."

"Do you have a suggestion?"

Wilson cleared his throat. "I mean no offense by it, but I think it would be unwise to promote your husband to such a role."

Tony's eyes narrowed, but only for the slightest second. "And why is that?"

"Not because he isn't capable, but because it won't lead anywhere good. An underboss is meant to do the work your hands are too busy for. And the two of you live up each others asses. You'll be juggling the workload for both, not because he cannot handle his own, but because you won't be willing to let him. Sending him out to play with this lowlife gangster was risky enough."

"You wanted your diamonds and you got them."

Wilson shrugged. "I'm not unappreciative. You gave me back Vanessa's diamonds and I handled that business at the precinct. It all ended well. Save for this problem that you are having."

"It'll be over soon."

Peter saw the ambush coming at the same moment Wilson did. All three of them whipped out their guns. Peter and Tony fired on the pair in front of them. A bullet whizzed past Peter's ear nearly close enough to put a hole in him. He turned, looking around the room. Four bodies on the floor. Four men standing. He grabbed Tony's arm at the same moment Tony reached for him, but they were both okay.

"Time to go," Wilson declared.

The rest of the room stared in shock and awe as they fled the room. One of Wilson's men met them at the door and escorted them out. There was more shooting behind them. Tony wrapped his arm around Peter and pushed his head down, pulling him into his side. Peter could have killed him for it. He couldn't protect him tucked into his side like a duckling.

Tony shot a man before he could fully remove the shotgun from his coat, but otherwise the violence remained behind them. Then the door to the restaurant closed and the screams and gunfire went away.

The three of them got into Fisk's limo. The inside was decorated as extravagantly as a grand theater. The lights were shaped like diamonds and hung down the side walls. The floor was carpeted in burgundy, the seats a rich, bloody, red. To one side was a lighted display of liquors and champagnes. It was a hotel suite more than a vehicle. Not that Tony's own limo was so different, but it was understated in comparison.

"So, not your men I presume," Fisk said. One of his giant fists held a cigar while he lit it up.

Tony looked out through the back windshield. "Not mine and no one I recognize. I need to call Happy." He put his phone to his ear. Fisk turned his attention to Peter with an amused smile.

"It's almost a shame. Your man is skilled enough to run the whole city if he wanted to."

"What about you, sir?" Peter asked.

Fisk laughed. "Not these days. I'm showing signs of wear. My weakness has already been exploited and I've been slowly cracking ever since." He pressed a hand to his heart in a seemingly unconscious movement.

"I'm sorry about your wife, sir."

He smiled softly. "Vanessa will always be my heart. The only part of me that was ever any good. You would think I would have killed her for it. I never have appreciated goodness." He huffed a laugh. "I threatened to every now and then and she'd just give me this look. Stern, unafraid. And you would think that would have pissed me off, but never when it was her."

Wilson reached under his shirt and pulled out a small ring on a chain. The band was plain with one large diamond in the center. "This was her mother's. Vanessa killed her and took it off her finger. And she proposed to me with it. And of course I was bewildered and amazed by her. Blood still on the band. I put it on her finger and promised I would marry her when the time was right. Took another three years for me to give in, but she never asked again. She just waited. I supposed she knew she had my heart no matter how hard I tried to break hers."

He glanced at Tony, shouting on the phone with Happy, ignoring them both. "He's not so different. Afraid to have the things, the one, that makes him happy. Because something will always come along and threaten to take it from you. And like me, losing that person will destroy him. If you love him and you want to protect him, you'll do whatever it takes to protect yourself first.

"Vanessa," he sighed. "I failed her. I never liked the idea of a woman fighting, holding a gun. Oh, she was a killer. Real blood thirsty, no different from me, but I pushed her away from getting her hands dirty. Never be afraid to pick up a gun. But of course I hear that you don't hesitate to put a hole in a man. That's good. Don't make the mistake of hesitation."

They were quiet for a moment. "Why does there have to be five bosses? Couldn't you and Tony do it alone?"

Wilson laughed. "Eager to get rid of the others? That's smart, considering they don't like you. No, New York is a big city. It takes a lot of money and a lot of elbow grease to keep what we have from being damaged by police and politicians. Plenty of them don't like me or Tony."

"Is that why you picked Harry? He has connections with those kinds of people."

Wilson nodded. "Norman had a great deal of political friends who kept the secrets of his company quiet. They'll do the same for Harry or else I'll assist him in applying the right pressure."

Tony got off the phone. He slid it into his pocket. Peter caught his hand and tangled their fingers together. It was so natural that Tony hardly seemed to notice.

"My men are clearing the building. They'll grab anyone they find." He looked Peter over, dusting off his shoulders with his free hand.

"I'm sure the perpetrators are long gone," Wilson said. "Or long dead. Do you believe this was that Tiburones boy?"

"Most likely." Tony tisked, likely finding dirt or possibly blood on his coat. Peter knew it would be replaced by morning.

Wilson nodded. "Then I ought to assume he's brave enough to push himself into my territory. I'll have the boys on high alert, but Tony, if any of his men appear on my streets they will be killed on sight. I won't take prisoners for you."

"Noted." How disappointed they would both be if Wilson got to the guy first.

#marvel #starker #mafia au #au fic #violence #murder mention #misogyny #a king on a leash

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write-like-you-mean-it · 4 years ago

Text

A Perfect View: Haikyuu Coffee Shop AU

This is a Choose Your Own Character. This is part 2 to Oikawa’s story. Go to part 1 to read the beginning of the story.

My hands fidgeted with my phone which caused my lock screen to pop up more times than not. Even with all the games, I hadn’t traveled to this part of town in awhile. A few of the sports fans were pushing each other to see one of the games.

I felt like a miniature version of myself as I stood outside the grand area. I checked my phone once again to see the same message. “Make sure to talk to the front gate. See you after the game~.” Even the messages he sends are cute.

A sigh escapes my lips as I walk to the front gate. Was I really going through with this? Could I really go through with this?

“Ticket please?” called the ticket taker. I shook away my thoughts.

“Oh, uh, I am here for Toru,” I say. The fast beat deep within my chest wasn’t going away. I must’ve seemed like a scared puppy to this person. The gate manager radioed over the intercom “Did Oikawa leave any tickets?”

A small female voice echoed a “yes. Tell them to go to the information desk.” The burly man turned to look at me. “It’s down the main hall and to the left.” I nod my head before following his directions.

Cheering shook the foundation of the room. The game must’ve already started. I race to counter before sensibility takes over my mind. “I have a ticket from Toru Oikawa,” I state the person standing behind the desk. I’ve said his name so many times at this point; however, it felt like I was saying his name for the first time. The shimmering wink permeated my mind every time I said it.

“Here is your ticket,” said the lady. She must’ve been the one that was over the radio earlier. Her voice was the same. She handed me my ticket with a typical customer service smile. “Your seat will be through those doors, up about mid-way, and in the middle. “

“Thank you,” I call. I stare back at my ticket. I, now, had another fidget in my hand. I turned the ticket over to see a note written on the back. ‘I’ll find you afterwards.’ I shake my head while entering the door. He could’ve texted me that; yet, his action was sweet.

The seats were cramped pull down ones that always seemed to have too little space to place one’s arms. What was even more awkward was my placement in relation to the game. I was on the opposite side as Oikawa’s team where I could face him. The arena was pretty full as many more people were climbing up the stairs.

I’d never gone to a volleyball game before. I had no clue what was happening the majority of the match. I did, however, watch the most powerful serves I’d ever seen. The sound of the ball hitting the arms of each player gave me chills that coursed throughout my body.

Soon, it was Oikawa’s time to serve. I may have dreamed it but he and I locked eyes for a split second. A smirk crosses his face before bouncing the ball a few more times. His face was blown up on the jumbo screen.

The cocky grin sends butterflies straight to my stomach. The flutter deep within only made my heart race. It was the same smirk he’d given me when asking for my number. If he wasn’t so pretty, it wouldn’t have worked. Lucky for him that he was graced with good genes.

After a while, I became enthralled with the game. It helped that a parent was explaining to their child what was happening in the game near me. Otherwise, I may have never known what had happened until the final blow of the whistle. Oikawa’s team must’ve won. The cheers and shouting from the stands shook the poor stadium.

I watched his team celebrate the win. Even in professional games, there was a drive to be the winner. It was a calling only a few star teams ever got to claim. His team must’ve moved up in the ranking.

Some of the spectators started to get out of their seats. The two teams escaped back to their locker room. I was left with two choices: leave my seat or stay put and wait. One left a hint of mystery while baited eagerness. I decided for the latter.

I find myself messing with my phone in the hopes of getting a message about his location. People were leaving all around me. Crowds started to gather at the exit of the court. Some of the players had come out of the locker room and were signing shirts and posters. I stuck to my lifeline of the phone.

Only a few minutes had passed. It felt like an eternity as I scrolled through the endless nothingness behind my screen. 5 minutes turned into 10 which turned into 15. At the 20, minute mark, I was going to leave.

Suddenly, a “hey, I’m glad you came,” said a higher pitched, cocky voice. “I thought you might not show when the game started.”

I look up to see he’d changed from his uniform and into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt. His hair was still a little wet from a shower that must’ve been taken in the time I’d seen him last. “Work ran a little late,” I say. “Congratulations on winning. I can’t say that I knew a lot of what was going on but I knew that you won.”

I locked my eyes on his, and my feet suddenly felt like I hadn’t stood in years; I was an unsteady mess. If Toru had noticed, he didn’t mention it. “I know of a bar close to here,” he said while turning to look at the emptying place. “Unless you’d rather do something else. I didn’t think I’d make it this far with my barista when I asked for your number earlier today.”

“Oh,” I said while following the brunette towards the stairs. “The bar is fine. I haven’t gotten a drink out in awhile.”

Toru scoffs. “I thought guys would try to pick you up every day. Who wouldn’t want to fall for the coffee shop girl?” His typical smirk came back. It was his calling card for knowing that he made your insides melt. I could feel my own face warming up.

“I doubt you’d want some middle-aged men hitting on you. You’re just lucky enough to be attractive.”

“So you’re saying I’m attractive,” he called back before racing down the stairs.

My breath caught in my throat. “T-that’s not,” I stutter.

Toru gets to the bottom of the stairs first before turning back and reaching out his hand to help me. “It’s alright. You can just say it. You find me irresistibly attractive.”

I grab onto his hand as he leads me down the last few steps. My eyes rolled before landing back on his own. “Now you’re not going to hear me say it.” He let go of my hands which felt cold without his touch.

The volleyball player shrugs his shoulders before escorting me out of the arena. “We all have our fatal flaw. Hubris is mine. I’ll gladly wait until I find yours.”

“Even if it takes a hundred years,” I smirk.

“Even if it takes a hundred years,” Oikawa promises. “You’ll have to keep me around until then.”

Our conversation turns to one of silence as we walk down the street. Each of our thoughts swim to find the correct words to string together. “Thank you for the ticket. The seat was a great view.”

“You’re welcome,” he commented. “I picked that seat just for you.”

“Oh why?”

“I wanted someone good-looking to be in my view while I served.” Again, his voice held the same cocky tone. The butterflies reoccurred deep within my stomach as I turned to look away from him.

“So you were looking at me?” I ask .

“Of course. How could anyone not?” Toru’s tone changed. This time, his teasing was mixed with hint sincerity I had yet to know. He was being serious in every compliment and cocky statement he had said before; however, this one was different.

Before I could respond, Oikawa pointed his finger towards a sign across the street. “There it is,” he called. “Let’s get inside before it gets too chilly.” He takes my hand once again to cross the bustling street. His hand was calloused from all the extra practice he’d put into his sport. All the hard work and dedication could be found all over his body. Each muscle was born from a drive to be the best.

Once inside, we grabbed one of the open tables. “Should we start off with ‘tell me about yourself’ or get into the deep stuff?” the brunette asked. “Or would you rather order a drink to start off the night? This is all my treat, of course.”

“How about you tell me about yourself, Toru?” I said while picking up the drink menu. I decided to use it as a camping mechanism instead of my phone. I already knew what drink I’d want. It was the same I’d always get at the bar. “What made you choose volleyball?”

“Now that’s a long story,” Oikawa says. “Hope you don’t have to work tomorrow, darling because I want you to have the best first date of your life.” His promise was a bold one; yet, I knew he would deliver.

A waitress took our drink orders before Toru starts on his story and the beginning of the best date of my life. "If I’m being honest, Volleyball was all I ever wanted to do my entire life…”

Haikyuu Masterlist

(This series is a choose your own adventure. Pick your favorite man or all of them. I will try to make as many of them as possible with continuations. So far, there is Oikawa, Sugawara, Tuskishima, Kageyama, and Hinata. If you have a suggestion or comment, please message me!!)

#oikawa #oikawa x reader #hq oikawa #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #COFFEE SHOP AU #no doze cafe

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razorblade180 · 4 years ago

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Nothing to worry about

After many, many attempts to decode the data to find Sora, Riku was spent. A thought came to him that maybe if he messed with data with the difficulties all the way up, then something might change. It had to be his third day screwing up on the same attacks over and over again. He didn’t remember fighting the organization to be this hard! Riku was a prideful guy that managed to beat most of them but enough was enough! He had been stuck on one obstacle for far too long and his hands hurt from hitting the wall the one time he rage quit. It was time to bring in backup, and he knew just the people…

Xion:You want me to want?

Riku:Beat data Xion for me. You’re too strong.

Roxas:It’s a computer…

Axel:Dude, you don’t get to say that when you smash computers instead of pressing keys.

Saix:You What?

Riku:Focus!!! I called you specifically because you’ve fought Xion, fought Sora, and some of you have done both while technically being connected to Sora; so you know how to play him well.

Axel:I feel like you’re missing people.

Riku:People are busy. You are the only ones that are still around a lot.

Xion:Am I really that tough?

Riku:Painfully.

Xion:Hmmm. I’m not sure how I feel about fighting myself. Something about it feels...depressing.

Axel:I’ll do it. I’m great at games! Plus we’ve fought a bunch of times! I know your moves.

Xion:But you lost…

Axel:Still learned them! *sits down* Watch the master!

That was the statement he made. It’s been three hours since Axel had that confidence. Now he was face down on the bed in the committee room along with Riku. If he heard “why do you fight” one more time, he’d lose his mind.

Axel:Since when do you bounce around like a ball of light!?

Roxas:Why are you surprised? I do it all the time.

Axel:I don’t even understand how you do it!!!

Saix:I can’t believe you didn’t even get half health.

Axel:Think you can do better!?

Saix:Nope, but I won’t act like I can to look cool. Xion, I’ve never seen you do half of the things that program does. Is it an exaggeration or…?

Xion:No, it’s possible. Doing all of that just makes me tired.

Saix:...(I never stood a chance in that graveyard. Then again I try not to go full berserk for the same reason.)

Roxas:My turn! I’m not exactly thrilled about fighting any version of you but helping Sora is the goal here. I just hope Cid didn’t program all of your armors. Not a big fan of the second one or you being the size of the central station tower.

Xion:*red* Hehehe...yeah that was pretty wild.

RAS:You can do what…?”

The change of players was getting better results. Roxas was in his third attempt when he started getting a good rhythm. Watching Axel helped, but there was something else. A weird six sense. Riku was right about him controlling Sora, it felt natural. Battling data Xion was the same. The way he predicted her movements were scarily good.

Axel:Wow, look at you go.

Roxas:Sssshhh, I need focus. I wanna do this as fast as possible. It might be data but hurting Xion feels wrong.

Xion:*red* Roxas…

The man makes it to the desperation move. It’s the second time he’s made it here and he wished data Xion had the armors instead! He didn’t last long before another game over screen. Everyone groaned while Roxas rested his head on the wooden desk.

Roxas:Gah! I can’t even begin to understand those patterns. Your columns of light move way too wildly!

Riku:I hate the fact that if you recover from a strike raid then the next one is delayed to change your rhythm! Why are you so smart Xion?

Xion:Sora does that too. It’s how to survive relentless attacks sometimes. I’ve told you all the timing so-

Roxas:Xion, I really don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but you might as well grab the controller. The only person who knows you, is you.

Xion:And Ven, and Namine, you, Sora, Kai- fine I’ll give it a try!

Riku:Thank you.

Xion died immediately going into the fight. All eyes looked at her in disbelief as her face got red.

Xion:I wasn’t ready! Let me get a few warm up rounds in! I have never done anything like this. Roxas, can you go back to Twilight Town and get a small white bag in the usual spot?

Roxas:Okay.

A few warm up rounds turned into a dozen. Riku even saw her scroll through the settings once or twice. Then she wouldn’t do the fight right away. Instead she’d press bottoms to see how Sora reacted and fast. He didn’t want to be antsy but a piece of him wanted to try again. Riku went over to ask when Roxas came through the door to hand her the bag. Xion ran the program again. She reached in the bag as it loaded and pulled out something Riku didn’t know she still had. Her organization gloves.

Riku:You kept those?

Xion:Gripping a keyblade barehanded feels weird. So does messing with computers…

Data Xion:Why do you f-

Xion:Yeah we know the line…

Riku never considered himself good at things like video games or computers, but he didn’t think he was bad either. That was until he watched Xion start moving her fingers faster than he could keep track off. The whole room was silent except for the sound of clicking. Data Sora was moving at speeds and performing tricks Riku and the others didn’t even know about. He wasn’t getting hit at all!!! Axel could quietly hear Xion mumble numbers. A set amount when she attacked, and then a different set when the data version did. The sets kept resting and ending differently depending on what weapon she used or magic. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

Axel:H-How?

Xion:How what?

Roxas:How are you doing this!?

Xion:Like you and Riku said. I know me, as well as Sora. I’m only gonna get hit so many times before I find a chance to counter. Also, there’s only so many moves you can program. It’s still just code!

She made it sound so easy, yet Riku. Can only think about how many times late last night he couldn’t figure out a single time to appropriately heal or attack. Yet here Xion is, perfect blocking and interrupting the desperation move. She even found time to take a picture before delivering the final blow!

Xion:Boom! Easy!

Riku:FINALLY!

Saix:You really should’ve gone first.

Xion:But it was thanks to you guys that I was able to watch and learn without stressing out. It was a group effort. I guess we’re done here. Thanks Riku, that was kinda fun. *stands up*

Riku:Ummm haven’t beaten master Xehanort either. Do you think maybe….

Xion:*Sits down* You owe one for this.

Riku:I know a good spot to find the best seashells.

Xion:Deal!

The crew let her get to work on the baldy while they occupied their time. Half an hour passed before they sat around a table eating. Riku looked over to see Xion learning how to deal with every move possible. It looked impossible. Most of the organization did. Another game over screen appeared and Riku sighed.

Axel:You alright champ?

Riku:It might be data, but seeing Sora lose is depressing. I hope he’s alright.

Roxas:Why wouldn’t he be?

Riku:He’s not the luckiest guy. Danger might as well be a spell when it comes to Sora. All of these data fights made me realize just how dangerous the organization really was. The thought of him running into something or someone as dangerous as that alone doesn’t sit well with me.

Everyone:......

Roxas:You know Riku, you can be pretty dumb sometimes.

Riku:Huh!?

Xion:Roxas!

Roxas:What!? All I’m saying is you would think after seeing a program based off of him successfully beat crazy strong people like Xion that you’d have the most faith in his skills. I mean who else do you know has enough different moves to handle so many kinds of fighters?

Riku:....Heh, thanks Roxas.

Roxas:*red* Yeah whatever. Just stating the obvious.

Axel:Yeah! Sora’s alright. I mean he was able to beat me after all.

Saix: If that’s the bar then maybe we should worry.

Axel:Hey!

Xion:I mean we did tie when I was tired.

Roxas:I beat you with amnesia.

Riku:Sora did too.

Axel:Who’s side are you on! This is the thanks I get for trying to cheer you up? Cut me some slack.

The friends shared a good laugh teasing Axel. Even he couldn’t help but join in on it. Riku should know better than anybody just how capable Sora is.

(Wherever you are, I’m sure you’re just fine.)

xxxx

Fine was the appropriate word to describe it. If a Riku or the others used anything more positive then they surely would’ve bit their tongue. If only they could see their friend right now, dodging and struggling on a rooftop under a starry sky dome. A swarm of gigas closed in on our young hero to overwhelm him, but to avail. Sora whipped out a storm flag and slammed it on the ground to summon the watery beast of the seven seas. It’s tentacles whacked away and crushed the gigas flat. Now wasn’t a time to rest though. Yozora, his opponent, wasn’t done yet. Sora saw rapid flashes of red lock in on him and switched to the counter shield.

He hyped himself “Come on!” Spurs shouted. The first attack came from the left, then right. Four more were dead on before another six ferocious slashes came from the left. Collision after collision conjured sparks that lit up the impacts of each attack. Yozora finally thought he had an opening to stab from behind but was sorely mistaken when Sora had already pivoted already and unleashed a barrage of fists that knocked Yazora in the air. Sora leaped up to follow up with a change into the second form. “Get back here!” He pulled his opponent back in with a magnet burst then went right into an ars arcanum. Blades clashed faster than anyone could keep up with before Sora’s ferocity gave him an edge that turned into full blown hits that ended with him spiking Yozora to the ground. As he fell, Sora was shot in the back by a laser that sent him to the metal floor behind. He had no time to dodge the cross slash that connected against his chest. He watched Yozora vanish and switched right into ultimate form to do the same.

This disappearing and reappearing act made their sparks seem more like fireworks. Crackles and pops

Danced up and down the battlefield as each person kept attempting to warp for both offense and defense until Yozora got the better of Sora by trapping in an exploding prism that launched Sora sky high. Yozora finally had room to breath and could plant fis feet long enough to charge his blade. He watched his target recover mid air and unless a salvo of fireballs with double arrow guns. A good idea if it wasn’t so far away that is. “Sorry but-huh!?” A blue light washed over Sora and propelled him directly at Yozora with his attack. Yozora was quick enough to slash Sora away but decided to pull back by backflipping the fireballs; a big mistake. He had underestimated Sora’s speed. Before he could even reach the ground, Sora was already in front of him again. This time with a massive rocket propelled hammer that hit him in the direction of the fireballs. The magic projectiles curved midair to hope in on his location and blasted him right in the chin. This was bad, really bad. To think he’d have this much trouble with someone who looked so clueless moments ago. He had to switch things up and vanished again.

Sora switched to nano arms and stood perfectly still. “Three….four….” he pulled a barrier right as a glimmer of red formed into Yazora that blasted some strange wide shots from his crossbow before vanishing again. Sora turned the machines into yo-yos next and swung straight. “There!” Yozora appeared right as expected and hit dead on. Sora pulled himself to wards and shifted to his frozen blades for additional slashes.

“You’re Just full of surprises aren’t you!?” Yozora grimaced.

“Don’t Give me that look! I didn’t want to fight!” Sora went for a kick but was too slow. Yozora managed to warp behind Sora and summoned a massive red orb that started pulling everything into it.

“Let’s see how you dodge this one.” Yozora turned up the pressure and started warping as fast as possible at Sora again and again, cutting and slashing him cleanly to knock him off balance until Yozora delivered one more powerful slash across his body that sent Sora flying into the orb. He quickly up to it and glided his blade along it to trigger a massive explosion that made Sora scream. Smoke and fire filled the air for a moment. That was a move not even Yozora himself was too good at avoiding. Nobody was gonna get it right from the jump.

Finally, the battle was over. It was longer than expected but the end result was the same. “Sorry, but I don’t lose-” Another shockwave from the explosion accorded suddenly and dispersed the smoke. That’s never happened before. Yozora shielded his eyes and scanned the ground, no Sora. Just black puddles. He dared not walk closer to them when they started to increase in size until a bigger one formed near his feet and Sora hopped out with glowing eyes and drenched in darkness. “This guy…” Yozora mistakenly readied a block for the keyblade as was then punched by Sora’s free hand, throwing him off and into a world of rageful attacks he had no choice but to receive. Sora was fast, too fast. The patterns seemed random. It was impossible to know what to look out for with the addition of kicks thrown in as Sora instinctively warp in numerous spots to bat Yazora around. Any attempt to escape the loop was met with a primal roar that kept the loop going until one final monstrous attack came. Sora went right through Yozora and into the ground. Strange black orbs rose up from bigger pools of black from earlier and detonated repeatedly, leaving Yozora no room to escape.

What was once a dark night turned into blinding light as Sora once again appeared above Yozora’s falling body in a new form; and with two blades. It was hard for him to understand what happened next. All he could see was light and feel the pain it inflicted everywhere as pillars of them struck down around Sora, who remained airborne and glowing. A look of pure grit on his face as he shouted.

“I guess...my power isn’t needed after all.”

xxxx

Xion:I beat him! But...I don’t think there’s anything here that might help. Sorry Riku. I know you wanna find him as soon as possible.

Riku:Hmmm, that’s alright. *smiles* Wherever he is...I’m sure he’s doing just fine.

#kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts remind #xion #axel kh #roxas #saix/isa #axel/lea #kingdom hearts 3 #sora kh #yazora

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imnotcameraready · 5 years ago

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don’t tread on me

A/N: wow, i’m updating ANOTHER story? that’s not chivalry? amazing!!!

anyway, this has been a very, very long time coming! i’m procrastinating on packing, but i’m super excited that you guys finally get to meet janus and remus in this au! they’re a real pair!

WARNINGS: death/murder mention, alcohol mention, blackmailing, swearing/cursing, panicking, Logan Is A Serial Killer, blood mention (in a more medical sense) — if i forgot any, please let me know!

Pairings: Logince, Demus/Dukeceit | mentions of: Moxiety, past Analogical

Words: 3366

AO3 link!

masterpost to the serial killer logan au!

here we go! (fitting that the next side to get his own actual readmore cut off photo is logan, i love the nerd)

This couldn’t be real.

Logan’s hands nursed the mug in front of him, watching the steam roll off in plentitudes. He had the offending letter in his breast pocket, inside his coat, and he could feel the sleekly folded pages press against his chest when he inhaled.

It was a curious situation he’d found himself in. The first person to catch on to what he’s been doing wasn’t his boyfriend, wasn’t his ex-boyfriend detective, wasn’t even his ex-boyfriend detective’s new semi-boyfriend partner. And he could tell because, instead of being taken out in handcuffs, Logan had just received a personalized letter to his place of work with details about the latest killing, the statement that the sender knew that Logan was the culprit, and a meeting time and location. The letter was typewritten and then scanned again, to make it nigh impossible to find fingerprints or individualities in the writing, but he could definitely read it. Signed off by someone who called themselves “Deceit.”

And they were blackmailing him.

Logan took a sip of his coffee. No one he knew personally had the lack of morality to blackmail. Heck, even he didn’t, and he was a murderer. Talk about rudeness.

At least the meeting was to be quick. He checked his watch again — he’d arrived about half an hour before his meeting with the blackmailer for another meeting, with some journalist interviewing him about a research award. Roman’s brother was moving into town, was throwing a house warming party that they’d been invited to, and Logan didn’t want to miss getting to finally meet Roman’s only other living relative.

He always had quite the weirdest of stories to tell about this brother, Remus, and Roman seemed so ecstatic about him moving closer that Logan didn’t want to let him down. They had been going fairly steady for the past year and a half, with Roman somehow still unaware that Logan had committed ten murders.

It would do well to continue laying low, after the most recent murder. Logan was a little sloppier, in a rush, trying to dispose of the body in a manner almost too crass for him. That was about four weeks ago. Of course, in Logan’s mind it was a messy endeavour, but even that would be too detailed for Virgil or Patton to trace. He was safe from them.

Perhaps Roman would question the blood on his shirt, but he could always write it off with a story of how things broke in the lab. Those are some of Roman’s favorite stories. He was so interested in Logan’s work that it was easy enough to distract him from Logan’s other extracurriculars.

“Excuse me,” he overhears someone talking to the barista, while he sips his coffee, “Have you seen Doctor Logan Webster?”

“Janus Daniels?” he calls out to the man at the register.

They spin around, and grin upon locking eyes with Logan. This must be the journalist, then. They slink forward, a thick mustard scarf wrapped around their shoulders and atop their black trenchcoat. They’re wearing a bowler hat, too, which may fit with the weather, though not with the decade.

Logan also notices the skin discoloration around this person’s left eye. Vitiligo, by the looks of it, all along the left side of their face. It’s juxtaposed by their dark hair and punctuated by the difference in color between their two eyes, one amber and one near white.

They offer out a yellow-gloved hand, which Logan takes, both shaking firmly and heartily. When they pull their hand back, they’re smiling. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Dr. Webster,” they say, taking out a recorder from their jacket, “Hope the coffee’s not too cold.”

“It hasn’t been very long. And I’ve been examining notes, grading papers,” Logan tries to dissuade the journalist’s concerns, smiling back himself, maintaining a perfect, unreadable composure. He shouldn’t let his two worlds bleed into each other, after all.

Janus smiles back, and taps a pen into their notebook. They flip to another page, glance over something written, and then nod to the recorder. “May I record this interview?” they ask.

Logan waves his hand. Standard procedure for a dual-consent state. “Yes.”

They press a button on the little box, and ask again. “Once more, on recording, may I record this interview?”

“Yes.”

It goes fairly quick after that. Logan had recently been part of a team of eight researchers, sending information back and forth regarding the clotting abilities of platelets. The end result had included information on how to use certain enzymes to signal to the platelets to clot over certain wounds. If these enzymes could be delivered outside of the bloodstream, then it may lead to a faster and cheaper way to produce certain medical products, even close wounds that would bleed out into fatalities. This would also have a higher success rate, considering the process relied heavily on the natural healing process.

The interview lasts roughly forty minutes. It’s a perfect length, too, since Logan has to run from this immediately to wherever the blackmailer says to meet him. In the letter, he’d been told to await further instructions, but this journalist couldn’t have met him another time in the day. Of course, he could have turned Janus away, but there was no one else on the team that they’d gotten the chance to speak to. Ignoring them would have been setting them up for failure.

“Blood clotting,” Janus murmurs, “Can you think of any other practical applications to that?”

Logan shrugs. It’s a mundane question, too trivial for someone who had so narrowly missed a Nobel prize, but almost too large for an article meant for the general public. He knew the drill; he’d spoken to many reporters before. “Oh, if something like this were to be commercialized, then military-grade medical supplies could begin entering the consumer market. That would drastically change the household medical landscape as we know it.”

He checks his watch again, and sighs. If he leaves now, he might be able to make it back to his office to await further instructions. Janus must notice his discomfort, because they sign off on the recording, and then stow the device away.

Logan gives them a grateful look while he packs his notes back into his bag. “This has been a lovely interview, but I have a prior engagement for 2 p.m.,” he tries to explain.

Janus just watches him with a wry smile. They shrug, taking a sip of their coffee silently.

That’s when Logan’s blood begins to, no pun intended, run cold. What kind of expression is that?

“I don’t think you have to go anywhere, Doctor,” Janus’s voice is light as they take out a piece of paper from their other pocket, “We can have our little meeting here.”

They open the paper up before Logan, only to show the same letter he’d gotten in the mail days ago, only the original form.

Logan scans it for a few seconds before slumping back into the chair. He’d been had.

“....So. Janus. How did you figure it out?” he’s moved beyond these theatrics. So Janus, Deceit, had set up this whole interview. Was the article even real? Logan had indeed vetted the reporter, was sure that they were a journalist. That’s all any of their social medias focused on, anyway.

Janus shrugs, still smiling a little. “I can’t speak for all of my sources, but once I got the details, it wasn’t too hard,” they say, “Roman’s far too dramatic to be committing such a quiet act and the similarities are far too uncanny to be him. But someone with access to the equipment necessary to drain a body of blood, someone with experience in the field, well….”

This was infuriating. Logan hadn’t even assessed Janus thoroughly during the interview. They were just so unassuming.

Was that how this a success? Logan had simply underestimated them? What else was he possibly overlooking, then.

What was the purpose of all of this, too? Logan hadn’t done anything to Janus, not to his knowledge. Maybe they had a relation to one of Logan’s victims? That would be an incredible oversight on his part. But that still wouldn’t explain why they were resorting to blackmail above letting the authorities know.

“Don’t worry too hard. I’m certain your ex hasn’t figured out heads nor tails of the case yet,” Janus leans back and sets their gloved hands on the table, “And I don’t intend on letting him know. Virgil’s not stupid but he doesn’t have the evidence that I do.”

“How do you know about Virgil?” Logan’s mouth runs dry.

No one knew about Virgil. It had been so long since they’d broken up—that was all old news.

But Janus just laughs, a soft, tinkling sound. “He’s the head detective on the case, anyone in the police department could have told you,” they wave their hand, as though this were a simple matter, something not worth scrutinizing.

They don’t seem to think that them knowing Virgil is Logan’s ex is weird. That’s not on Logan’s social media, nor is it on Virgil’s, as few as he has. How the fuck did Janus figure that out?

For the first time in a long while, Logan has no idea what to do. His chest was clutching his heart so tight that it was difficult to breathe.

There were so many questions. And Janus’s gaze, once amicable, now seemed to look deeper into Logan than any of his microscopes at his lab. What did Janus know? How much did he know? The letter was so vague, just a time and place and knowledge that Logan was the killer. This probably wasn’t even a confrontation, they probably just wanted to confirm that Logan was afraid, and he’d walked right into their trap.

How stupid! He needed to be much more careful if individuals like this Deceit were figuring out who he was and what he was doing.

But time to cut to the chase. “Well, you know the facts. When are you planning to tell him?” Logan asks, prepared for the worst.

At that notion, though, Janus’s face scrunches up. “Me? Tell Virgil? God, no, you misunderstand,” Janus waves their hand, “Let me explain myself. I have a personal stake in your activities, Logan, and I simply wanted some reassurance that I and those around me will stay safe.”

That was. Very.

Once again, Logan was thrown for another loop. What the hell? Janus just wanted protection? “I assure you, I won’t target you or anyone you present to me,” Logan says, fighting to keep the anger out of his voice, “That’s an incredibly petty reason to be going to these lengths, though. If you know this much about me, as much as you’ve been alluding to, then you would know that I likely wouldn’t target you in the first place.”

Janus shrugs once again and that blank smile. This was a thick mystery.

Logan leans forward, to ask another question, when someone’s loud voice entering the cafe makes him jump. Agh, he’s getting so paranoid now. He had to take a step back.

“AYO!” the person shouts, “SNAKEY!”

And then the person bodyslams Janus. Logan jumps back in surprise, but Janus laughs warmly, reaching up and hugging the newcomer with one arm.

“Hello, sweetheart,” they purr.

“What’s up, babe dot net,” the newcomer kisses Janus’s temple before pulling a chair from the empty table beside them and sitting right between Janus and Logan.

And then he looks at Logan, finally. He had shaggy brown hair with a few grey streaks through the front. His eyes were a glittering green, just like Roman. In fact, the person’s entire demeanor seemed uncannily like Roman’s, despite how he was clothed in a patched leather jacket and a green fishnet shirt. He also had a nose piercing, a lip piercing, an eyebrow piercing, and, from what Logan could see, six earrings. There was a curled mustache across his face, too, which added to Logan’s assessment that this man was, well. What was the best word. Weird?

He holds out a hand to Logan, grinning ear to ear. “Heya, Specs. You must be the Doc’. How’s the blood?”

Oh my God. Logan blinks, biting his tongue for a second as he takes the person’s hand and shakes. “Yes. My name is Logan. Nice to meet you.”

“Remus! A pleasure,” Remus sticks his tongue out and winks as they shake hands, “So you’re my lil’ brother’s bitch, eh?”

Holy fuck. There was absolutely no way. This wasn’t on any of Janus’s social medias, either. Logan had done as much of a background check as he could on the reporter, there weren’t—there wasn’t any indication—Roman hadn’t mentioned that his brother had a partner—

The cogs in Logan’s head were stopping. This was a ridiculous series of events, there was no way that this was happening. “Remus...Del Sol?” Logan asks.

Remus giggles. Janus reaches an arm around his waist, pulling him closer to them, and Remus abides by snuggling his face into Janus’s neck and literally licking him.

“Remus is my partner,” Janus says, and Logan can see, is absolutely infuriated by the level of shit-eating that Janus’s grin holds, “He was too excited to meet you, so he wanted to drop in on our interview.”

Oh my god, they had interviewed earlier. Yes. That was correct. Logan nods, though he can’t find his voice to say anything. Interview. Remus doesn’t know, then?

It seems that Remus doesn’t mind or doesn’t notice, which is good, at least. “I was just so excited to get to know my baby brother’s boytoy, you know? Though you’re definitely the braincell he’s missing, sheesh!” Remus cackles, and Janus chuckles warmly along with the joke, “You’re coming to tonight’s party, right? I’m buyin’ extra tequila for the drama queen.”

Logan nods. And that’s enough for Remus, it seems, because he laughs heartily and slaps Logan’s shoulder.

But Logan still can’t get over the fact that his boyfriend’s twin brother’s partner is blackmailing him. I’m sorry, he really can’t.

“Remus, darling, I’m going to leave you here for a second so I can take this,” Janus stares at their wrist, seemingly infatuated with their Apple watch.

Remus patted Janus’ ass as they stand up and step out of the cafe. And then it’s just Remus and Logan.

That’s more acceptable. Janus is such a wildcard, Logan doesn’t know what to do. Is he worried that Logan would kill Remus? What for?

“So,” Logan blinks, focusing back on Remus, who watches him with a much harsher look, “You’re Logan.”

“....Yes,” is all he can say. There’s only so much Logan can take in a day.

“You think you’re good enough for my little baby prince.”

Ah. Was he getting the big brother talk? He thought they were twins. “Aren’t you and Roman the same age?” he asks.

Remus leans forward, placing both of his hands on the table, squinting at Logan’s face. Up close, Logan can definitely smell the sweat wafting off of Remus. Good lord, did he bathe? His mustache was held up by some sort of grease, so it was clear that the man kept his appearance in check. His face, too, up close, was populated by a multitude of small scars. Remus points up at Logan with one finger, only a few inches from his actual face.

��You hurt my little brother and I’ll have to kill you,” he says.

Now that was laughable. Remus didn’t seem to be joking, considering how rigid his facial expression was, but Logan couldn’t really think about the possibility of someone killing him. He wasn’t worth killing, in any case. Up front, he was doing good by the world, researching ways to make life easier for those who needed it. And behind the scenes, he was keeping the city ever more clear of those who would break the safety of others. It wasn’t like he murdered just anyone, you know.

Remus didn’t seem to be targeting him, too, over the whole murderer thing. He squints more at Logan—likely awaiting a response.

“I don’t intend on hurting him,” Logan keeps his voice as level as possible, “In fact, I love your brother very much. This past year and a half has been the best in my life.”

Remus squints even more. There’s no way that wasn’t an acceptable answer, though. Maybe he’s off-put by the rigidity that Logan himself is holding his person. He’s a little shaken still, but he manages a smile.

At that, Remus raises an eyebrow, but he slowly sinks back down into his chair, slouching his back and throwing one arm over Janus’ vacant seat. He drums one hand’s fingers against the table, slow, in some sort of thought.

“It better be. My brother’s a catch. The best boyfriend life coulda thrown at you,” he declares, and then he slaps his hand on the table, “I guess I’ll see how good of a boyfriend you are tonight then.”

Logan chuckles. “If you would like to gauge my abilities as a partner, then tonight is likely the best time,” he says.

Going home will be nice. Roman has likely picked out an outfit already, maybe had moved on to an acceptable make up routine.

“We’re gonna have to get you a keg stand, Doc Oc,” Remus snickers, hiding his mouth behind his hand.

Logan doesn’t necessarily drink that much. He definitely doesn’t drink beer. A keg stand sounds quite out of the ordinary, too, for a house party. “Oh?”

“I gotta see how well you can suck!” Remus lets out a laugh, harsh and biting, and Logan deflates just a little.

Ah. Roman had warned that Remus was a little more outlandish. Perhaps this was simply an exposé. Good to be shocked now than in front of an audience, he supposed.

Logan was saved from having to respond by Janus, who returned quickly. Remus lifts his arm for Janus to sit, but instead, Janus grabs him by the shoulder and tugs him up.

“Logan,” they say, and Logan’s taken aback by how serious their tone is, in contrast to how controlled they sounded earlier. You know, during the blackmail.

“Yes?”

“You haven’t seen the university’s campus yet today, right?”

What an odd question. Logan shakes his head; no reason to lie about something so easily provable. “No. Roman and I were together all day before I arrived here for our appointment,” buying housewarming gifts. Roman’s quite excited about the throw pillows and framed photos he arranged.

Janus gives him a hard look, motioning for all of them to leave, and Logan doesn’t think twice. He picks up his bag, sets down some cash as a tip, and follows Remus out. The sudden movement and the urgency of such felt like it deserved explanation, though. “Why?”

Janus looks back at him, over their shoulder, and sets their hat back atop their head. “You should go home and check in with the university’s administration,” they say, and Logan notes how that doesn’t answer the question in the fucking slightest.

“Work?” Remus asks.

It sounds like he might know a little more than Logan. Remus wraps an arm around Janus’ waist and kisses their cheek quickly. “I’ll see you later tonight, babe, you be safe! There’s a killer on the loose!” he shoots Logan and Janus both finger guns, and then flips them both off.

While Remus grabs a motorcycle—of course he rides a motorcycle, he seems the type, how are he and Roman related?!—Janus turns back to Logan. Their jaw is set and, for the first time during this whole visit, Logan can sense a bit of fear.

“You weren’t at the university. Right?” they ask.

Logan shakes his head. “I wasn’t. The last time I was on campus was yesterday,” he says.

The repetition of the question is worrying. He doesn’t know what might have happened. Was there an accident?

Janus exhales, looking around to make sure no one’s near them, before leaning in just a little more. “A body was found in the chemistry building. Poisoned.”

taglists!

General: @jemthebookworm @okay-finne

Serial Killer Logan AU: @theunoriginaldaisy

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