#the evidence says you stole the purse man

[drama-glob]

Actually yeah, people will pretty much blame the monster for something going missing, but even more so when the evidence says you stole it. ;) XD

*I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, sassy Globby is something I’ll always enjoy. ^_^<3<3<3

[im-ovulating]

⚠️IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT⚠️

Hey, guys... so I've been writing on here for the last 2 years (almost 3) and while I have loved every second of it I can't do it anymore.

I can't....

...keep Pirate! Bakugo to myself any longer...

Imagine you're running, through shabby alleys and past the cess pools your town calls taverns, weaving through the crowded pathways; a couple of men are chasing you, their angry shouts getting mixed with the hustle of the busy streets. You turn your head to risk a glance at your pursuers- shit, they're closer than you thought.

Just as you turn your head back and go to put once last push into your gait, you slam into something big and solid. The sudden arm in your way clotheslines you and sends you scrambling for anything to keep you upright. Not that you need to- the same arm that sent you reeling now has the front of your shirt, hauling you upright.

"Oi!-" The arm's owner barks out, just to be interrupted by the men chasing you.

"Thank you! This little bitch stole our coin," the shorter of the pair turns his yellowed snarl to your form, still held in the strangers steel-like grip.

"I stole nothing!" You growl back, desperately trying to free yourself. Your nails dig into your captor's wrist, but he remains unfazed.

You finally see his face when he turns to you. His eyes bore into your own as he stares you down. "D'ja take their shit?"

His messy blonde hair casts a scary loom over the top half of his face, almost making his blood reds glow. "I didn't steal anything..." you grunt out, trying to yank yourself free.

"So, you're a thief AND a lia-" The taller accuser snarks.

"Enough," the man holding you says, deadly calm. "She said she didn't steal it, so go."

The men raise their voices, yelling their injustices. The second man makes a swipe at you, trying to tug you away from your newfound savior. In a flash, the man yanks you behind him and clocks him in the jaw, felling him.

The other evidently decides that there are more important things to squabble over because he leaves his companion in the dust, clutching his face.

"Leave." The blonde growls, towering over the guy's pathetic form.

Neither of you moves as he scrambles away, stumbling over himself as he rounds a corner.

Your eyes widen. "Wha-"

Once gone, he turns to look at you. "Where is it?"

"-Don't play games with me. Where is it?"

You huff as you reach into your bra and pull out to coin purse. "How'd you know?"

"Only the guilty run. Now hand it over."

Eyeing his outstretched hand, you contemplate how far you could get if you ran. When he cocks his eyebrow, you relent, handing the bag over. You've done enough running today to last you a lifetime.

"What are you? An undercover constable?"

His face twists into an ugly snarl, "Opposite end o' the spectrum, doll." You watch as he counts out the gold, pocketing a few coins and tossing the bag back to you.

"Don't look at me like that- Pirates don't work for free."

-

Now imagine that each time he comes to port, you end up running into each other. Sometimes figuratively, other times literally (you're very prone to be chased through the streets - it's definitely NEVER your fault, though...).

You've seen him beat people up for looking at him the wrong way, so the confusion never fades about why he decided to help you all those months ago. You've asked, of course, but all you get is a noncommittal grunt or a large palm pushing you away by the face as he trudges past you.

Eventually, the "coincidental" visits turn into gifts- nothing huge, just little trinkets that "I've no use for the damned thing, thought cha might, though..."

Dont ask. I've had this in my drafts for almost 3 years, so I figured I'd just post it, lmao. If there's any grammar mistakes/spelling errors, blame 17 year old me, I didn't proofread this - I just added that first bit🙃

[mlmxreader]

The Worst Days | Dewey Riley x m!reader

summary: Dewey can tell something's wrong, and he wants to at least try and make it a bit better

tws: swearing, insecurity

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Dewey noticed you were upset solely from the way that you didn't even ask to put your music on in his car; it was unlike you to let the radio play as it was, and he couldn't help but to frown as he watched you put your seatbelt on.

He swallowed thickly, wondering if it was something that he had done; maybe he accidentally took your lunch when he left in the morning, maybe he didn't leave one of his shirts out like he always did. But you were wearing one of his shirts, and he saw your name written on your lunchbox, so it couldn't have been something that he had done.

"Everything okay?"

You shook your head, sniffling as you licked your lips and let out a shaky breath; you had been crying, that much was evident from the way that your breaths seemed to get caught in your throat. "Y'know, some people are so fucking cruel."

Dewey furrowed his brows, but didn't think to press it further as he pursed his lips and leaned over to gently kiss your temple. He could see your colleagues leaving the building, and he hummed to himself. "Hey, how about we go get ice cream?"

You shook your head, sinking into your seat as he started the car. "I just wanna go home."

"We'll make a stop on the way," he told you gently, taking one hand off of the steering wheel to lay it on your thigh as he smiled a little. He didn't miss what was playing on the radio and cleared his throat. "Wasn't this the song that played when we first kissed? At Ben and Lewis' house party?"

You nodded. "The Ronettes."

Dewey thought it might make you smile, so he turned the radio up, and he pulled out onto the road, starting to sing in hopes that it would help with cheering you up a little.

"And if I had the chance I'd never let you go so won't you say you love me, I'll make you so proud of me. We'll make 'em turn their heads every place we go, so won't you, please, be my be my baby? Be my little. baby my one and only baby, say you'll be my darlin', be my be my baby, be my baby now, my one and only baby."

But when he looked at you, you still didn't dare to even look at him, staring blankly out of the window. He turned the radio down a little bit, putting his hand back on your thigh as he gently tapped along to the song; he didn't want to pressure you to talk, didn't want you to tell him what was wrong if it would make it worse, but he did want to make it clear that, if you needed him to listen, he would gladly do so.

"If you do need to talk, I'm here, y'know."

You nodded, putting your hand on his as you frowned and swallowed thickly. "Aren't you ashamed to be seen with me?"

"No," Dewey scoffed. "Why would I be?"

"You could've done so much better," you shrugged. "Instead of the guy who couldn't even finish secondary school with good grades."

He stole a quick look at you, shaking his head as he sighed. "That was years ago, why does it matter now?"

"Don't worry," you muttered.

"I'm gonna worry," he warned. "I'm gonna worry so bad that you'll see me cry."

You huffed, shaking your head. "Don't you think I'm stupid? That you could've been with someone smarter?"

"Not really," he laughed softly. "I'll tell you what I told my mum: you're the man I'm gonna marry. I love everything about you - even the way you drool on me when you fall asleep on the sofa."

You sniffled. "Really?"

"Yeah," Dewey hummed. "School grades don't matter, you're smart in other ways, and I love you - regardless of intelligence."

You nodded. "Promise?"

"I promise," he gently tapped your thigh. "So, we'll get ice cream, I'll park the car at the top of the hill, and we'll sit on the bonnet like we used to."

You nodded again. "That sounds nice…"

"You can even wear my hat," he told you, reaching into the backseat and grabbing it. "Maybe even my coat, if you get cold."

You nearly, very very nearly, cracked a smile. "You really care that much?"

"You're my boyfriend," Dewey told you softly. "Of course I care that much."

You fell silent, leaning forward and turning up the radio when you heard another familiar song that had played when you and Dewey kissed that fateful night all those years ago; '(What A) Wonderful World', by Sam Cooke.

It was one of Dewey's absolute favourite songs, and you loved the times when you had stayed over at the Riley household and he had been singing it while making you breakfast in the mornings, or when he sang it in the shower before bed; you would have given anything to hear him sing it again, and it seemed that you did get your wish.

"Don't know much about history, don't know much biology, don't know much about a science book, don't know much about the French I took but I do know that I love you and I know that if you love me, too, what a wonderful world this would be."

Dewey kept his promise, pulling into the car park of the ice cream shop and heading in to order before he brought it back and set off again; he had to go down a dirt track, but eventually he made it to the top of the hill, and stopped the car, leaving the radio on as he helped you get out and sit on the bonnet. You had finished your ice cream long before he did, and when you stole a quick lick, he couldn't help but to laugh.

"Feeling better?"

You nodded. "A little… nice view."

"It's the same spot we always used to come to," Dewey pointed out. "You carved our initials in the fence."

You hummed. "I'm sorry I'm in such a shit mood."

"It's okay," he told you, putting his arm around you and taking the last few bites of his ice cream, a little bit stuck to the corner of his mouth. "I love you on your worst days the same as I do on your best."

"You have something on your lip," you told him softly, and when he tried to get it but failed, you shook your head, and gently wiped it away with the pad of your thumb before you kissed him. "I really got lucky with you, didn't I?"

'I Want You Back' by the Jackson 5 started to play, and Dewey grinned as he slid off of the bonnet, offering you his hand. "C'mon."

Reluctantly, you took it. "I don't dance."

"Try it," he chuckled. "You might like it."

[pendragon1400]

Long post. Really nothing important just a theater script I made for creative writing class, than put in my university's art journal. Wanted to put it on here just for fun.

The Eternity of Hades

THE CHARACTERS

The Delivery Man Hades

Cerberus Zeus

Thanatos Aphrodite 

Alexander Oracle of Delphi

Hermes Persephone

Scene One

In a dark cavern-like location, a man stands nervously in front of a black archway surrounded by jagged rocks. The man is carrying a large bag and peers around the edges of the archway.

Hades jumps out from around the corner of the archway, dressed in ancient Greek robes.

Hades: Ah! There you are! A bit late, I must say. Did you lose your way? I told Hermes that we needed signs along the river.

The Deliverer: No, it’s literally too hell to gone. Here���s your pizza.

Hades smiled: Much obliged, do you take cash? Or would drachmas be preferred?

The Deliverer: Cash is fine.

Hades pulled money out of a pocket and handed it to the Deliverer.

Hades: Thank you!

The Deliverer holds the cash in hand, as he walks back towards the rocky pathway.

Hades enters an area that resembles a form of Grecian temple, with a large dark red velvet sofa in the corner, where a dog is sleeping.

Hades: Cerberus, down! Just because mommy is not home does not mean you get to ruin her sofa.

A long deep tolling bell sounds through the room. Hades retrieves his mobile device while balancing the pizza with one hand.

Zeus (Through text): Bit of an update, Miranda is heading your way. Hera found out about “certain” activities LOL. Anyway, could U send Thanatos after Ares? He has been a constant irritation lately, as usual. U coming to the party Tues?

Hades places the cell phone down with a long stare of suffering only known by those who are kin to Zeus.

Hades: Why did I not block his number?

Hades sits beside Cerberus taking a slice of olive pizza. A dark figure with black wings floats into the room and grabs a slice of the pizza.

Hades: (With a scoff) Thanatos, you could have asked.

Thanatos: When is Persephone returning?

Hades: Two weeks. (He sighed) 

Thanatos nods before he heads out of the room and back through the black archway.

Aphrodite: Hades! Hades!

Hades chokes on his pizza, as he stares off at the archway. Reluctantly he places the pizza down.

Aphrodite stood before the arch; she was wearing a new tight pink sports outfit.

Hades: Aphrodite, what can I-

Aphrodite holds up one hand with a sour expression. 

Aphrodite: I want you to return what you stole from me.

Hades: (Frowning slightly) I don’t have anything that belongs to you, I rarely go up to Olympus, for a reason.

Aphrodite: Oh, please!  I want Alexander back.

Hades hesitates before he retrieves his phone from the table. 

Aphrodite: What are you doing?

Hades: Talking to Thanatos, he is the person you should be speaking with as well. I do not take in the dead.

Aphrodite: (Waved her hand in dismissal, her bracelet jingling in the process) Alexander died, and I want him back.

Hades: No, I’m sorry.

Aphrodite: What do you mean no?!

Hades: Ever since Orpheus and Eurydice, I swore off returning the dead.

Aphrodite: (Crossing her arms, with pursed lips) “What if it was against his destiny to die?”

Hades: Well Destiny is shapeable Aphrodite. It can be changed by a single act. I will release him if you can find evidence he was taken too soon. 

Aphrodite: (Smiling with a smug look) I will. I get what I want.

Hades: What did I get myself into?

Scene Two

Hades is seen walking around a room, in a robe with a bowl of ice cream in his hand. Cerberus is laying on the sofa, while a mirror is displaying the image of talking people, who appear to be in distress.

Aphrodite: “Hades!” 

Hades turns the mirror off, then walks towards the door, he stops as Aphrodite comes inside, dragging a woman wearing a white dress behind her.

Aphrodite: This is the Oracle of Delphi; she will tell you Alexander’s fate.

Hades: Yes, I am aware who this is... How did you convince Apollo to let you-

Aphrodite releases the Oracle, shoving her forward a few steps.

Aphrodite: Tell him!

Oracle: Alexander’s fate, was to become the favored of Aphrodite before he gained eternal comfort and peace by her hand.

Aphrodite: See? He is supposed to be with me and in the comfort of Olympus.

The Oracle furtively slinks out through the archway.

Hades: No, I do not exactly see your point. He was destined to die. What did you do anyway? Please tell me it was not another Troy situation.

Aphrodite: What do you mean? Comfort? Peace? That is your idea of death.

Hades: Yes. I don’t exactly rip out peoples’ livers you know! I make sure that everyone who comes to my kingdom is as welcome as I can. Except for Pirithous.

Aphrodite: Life is so desolate then?

Hades: No, it’s not Aphrodite.

Aphrodite flounces off stage, while Hades sits down with his phone. A cell phone buzzes as a text message from Hermes is displayed.

Hermes (Through text): Update, we just got a new plant for the natural world courtesy of Apollo!

Hades paused as the phone buzzed again,

Persephone (Through text): See you in a few days <3.

Hades: (Smiling as he reads his texts) Life is not desolate at all.

End.

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse’s Rewatch Thoughts SPN 08x06 Southern Comfort

“That was fkn spicy. Jesus Christ” “I think he would have stopped screaming about halfway through that though” laughter

He’s my boyfriend, Sam

“Dude a pig with that much eyebrow must taste really good” “That was a weird conversation” “I was going to say something but I can’t remember what it is” “what the fuck” “Garth is so fkn weird man” laughter

“The hell was that face?” “that was a yes if I ever heard one” “that’s a shiny belt buckle” “Sam is wearing both the blue and the red this episode” “did she get possessed or something?” 🎶it was demons🎶

“We haven’t seen Crowley in a while” Purgatory is a gay bar in Miami

Laughter

Laughter

“Yeah man” “What the fuck. I forgot that shit” still laughing 

Rewinding the tooth fairy sequence

“Why is it so funny?” “What is this fkn bedazzled shit over here?” “Did he steal someone’s purse? It looks like he stole someone’s purse” “Oh we’ve got brain jizz from ghosts” “Ooo” “nice” “oh yeahhhhh” “Why’d they have to go and give it away?” “the word is awesome apparently” “oh my” laughter

“Green shag carpet” “oh my” “you’re not allowed to call yourself a hot mess. It can’t be a self-described thing” “Jesus Christ” “what’s this fkn pattern on the table? Maple leaves or stars? It matches the wallpaper though” “It’s an inverted pattern” “this whole scene is red white blue and green” “I’m with Dean on this one” You’re always with Dean on this one

“I’m just saying” “Even if there’s only one right choice, it’s still a choice” “oh yeah just break it” “note to self: if you ever vandalize a grave, make sure it involves arson” Laughter “what a fkn…” “How would he know that the inhaler is in evidence?” “not even a little hole in t he wall? That was a pretty close-ranged shot” “Maybe if it was bird shot or something” “He didn’t shoot no deputy” “Fkn dick” “this little place has a lot of lamps. Like a lot” “oh yeah it’s right here” “that must have hurt” laughter

“What the fuck” 

“That was good” “inflation” “oh sure the purse I guess” “almost like they had it all planned out” “this is one helluva an intervention” “how does garth know he’s ok?” “I mean he said it a little angrier so Garth was listening” “So Bobby was attached to the flask but not the hat?” “Third time’s the charm. There ya go” “the fuck is up with all these flashbacks?’

‘That’s one helluva peeping hole” “That’s some kick ass wallpaper dude” “Need whoever set up these sets to do our living room. Minus the dirt on the walls” “Let’s hear more about Don” “Idk why Dean feels he needs to keep a secret.” “are you jealous bitch?” “They say ice him but wouldn’t you want to burn him afterwards?”

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"ROBBED WIDOW OF SOLDIER WHO DIED IN DIEPPE RAID," Toronto Star. April 9, 1943. Page 2. ---- Thomas Brown Jailed Three Months for Stealing Pension Cheque ---- "MEAN THING TO DO" ---- "A" Police Court, City Hall; Magistrate Browne. "You know that this woman's husband was killed at Dieppe, and that the money you stole was a government pension cheque from Ottawa," said Magistrate Browne to Thomas Brown, up for sentence on charge of stealing $75 from Mrs. E. Griffin.

"It was a mean thing to do," added his worship imposing a term of three months. Evidence given at a previous hearing showed that the accused knew the complainant. having met her in a restaurant where she was employed. The court was told that she took him to her home to clean some floors. She said that the money was in her purse and the accused took it.

Accused admitted buying a wrist watch with part of the money. He had $37 when arrested.

"For a young man. you have a very bad record." remarked Magistrate Browne to Peter Leclair, a soldier, convicted of assaulting P.C. Tom Duffy and also stealing a pound of tea. He was sentenced to four months on each count, to run concurrently.

Miss A Mitchell, a waitress in a Queen S. W. restaurant, said she saw accused taking the tea and leave. "I told a waiter and he went looking for him." she said,

A. Evans stated that he missed accused awhile and then saw him, some distance from the restaurant.

P.C. Duffy told of seeing the accused being chased. "I caught him," said witness. "He tried to kick me in the stomach and failed. He kicked me in the shine. We tussled and he knocked my helmet off."

Leclair denied taking the tea, but had nothing to say regarding the assault.

For failing to notify the registrar of his change of address, William Kerr, subject for military call. was fined $25 and costs or 30 days. He pleaded guilty,

Constable Glanfield. R.C.M.P. fold Magistrate Browne the police had been trying to locate accused for some months. "He admitted moving often," said the officer.

Donald Davey pleaded guilty of stealing a case of cigarettes from a transport truck. "He took the cigarettes, valued at $150, and sold them for $80, related Detective George Elliott.

"You will go to jail for three months." ruled Magistrate Browne.

Thirty days and a fine of $200 or 30 additional days, was the penalty given Edward Eisen, after he pleaded guilty of keeping a betting house on Yonge St..

Police Constable Fred Paveling said that over a period of three weeks P.C. Lamont made 12 bets on horses with accused.

Defence Counsel H. L. Mendelson pleaded for a reduction of the jail term.

"He was convicted once before on a similar charge." replied his worship

Appearing for sentence for stealing four radiator caps from parked motor cars on Colborne St. James McNeil and Clayton Lovely, first offenders, were given suspended sentence and probation for one year. They were arrested by Constable Agnew at the scene. Both pleaded guilty.

HAD DRUGS, GETS YEAR --- "B" Police Court, at the City Hall, Magistrate Prentice. "You will be fined $200 and costs or six months and in addition you will be sentenced to serve 12 months, his worship told David Kerr when he appeared for sentence on a charge of unlawful possession of drugs. On a charge of theft and receiving he was sentenced to additional six months concurrent.

Remanded for judgment and investigation until today after appearance yesterday on a charge of trespassing on the premises of a munitions plant Joseph Harty, 22, was fined 510 or 10 days. Harty had a record, Crown Counsel Malone reported.

Pleading guilty of aggravated assault upon Alee Herasimenko, 63, Dmytro Kowbel, 21, was sentenced to 30 days in jail. Through interpreter Markowitz. complainant stated he had been struck by accused in the kitchen of their Draper St. rooming-house after a verbal argument.

"He called me a name and I struck him," admitted accused.

"A most brutal assault," said Crown Counsel Malone.

HIS FINES TOTAL $70 ---- "D" Police Court, at the City Hall. Magistrate Tinker. Convicted of careless driving, operating a car without a proper license and having liquor illegally, Bruno Maisonneuve was ordered to pay a total of $70 in fines and costs or serve one month in jail. On the first charge. he was fined $50 or 20 days. on the| second $10 and costs or 10 days and on the third charge $10 or one month, sentences concurrent.

Constable Art Hudson said he went to Avenue Ad.., near Heath St., to investigate an accident and found accused standing beside his car, which was up on the sidewalk. "He was in no condition to drive," the officer said, adding that he found 22 full pint bottles of beer in the car.

"He had a beginner's permit but was driving without a licensed driver." explained Constable Hudson.

William Metcalf, driver of the other car, said accused, going in the opposite direction, suddenly swerved and crashed into his car.

Pleading guilty of illegal purchase of beer, John Ribich was fined $25 and costs or 30 days. His Royce Ave. home was declared a public place.

Constable Gordon Deyman said he found 29 quart bottles and 12 pint bottles of beer in the home. Ribich said he purchased six quarts at a brewer's warehouse and the rest from a brewer's driver.

"When I came home from work, I saw the brewer's truck in front of my home. The driver told me he did not have an order to deliver beer in my house, but said that due to icy streets he was unable to make all deliveries and said he would sell me three cases of beer, which I bought."

[anki-of-beleriand]

Midnight meeting pt. 7

Summary: You have been under house arrest in the Avenger´s compound since arriving to that universe, then in a single night your world changes while meeting the newest addition to the team.

Pairing: WandaxFemale!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Nat/Reader. Female!ReaderxWanda Maximoff. Angst, drama, unrequited/requited love. Depression. Fluff. Jealousy. Suggestive themes. Mentions of sex. Top!Reader. Avenger!Reader. Just a love triangle that can have a surprising resolution. Magical!Reader. Swear words. Mentions of violence. Mentios of sex, light smut.

More warning will be added as the story progess.

Author's Note: So, this is my first try to a Wanda/Reader story and I'm nervous and this has not been betaed and English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise beforehand.

Woah, this is the longest chapter yet, and it's a closure for some of the characters, though i have to say is not really a good-bye.

I'm really happy by the way you guys have recevied the story, as I said this is my first time writing Reader any character and I just...I want it to be perfect, so...I'm glad you guys are enjoying it so far.

Words: 9,945

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Epilogue

Part 7 - The mission and the break-up

“You stole my car again.” Tony commented dryly as you sat down on the chair in his office.

“I did.”

You jiggled the keys in your hand smirking at the man, Pepper sat beside you smiling at the interaction knowing Tony had left the keys on purpose. Tony sat down leaning back, his eyes completely focused on you with a strange light that was making you squirm on the chair.

“I guess your visit has nothing to do with your work here, am I right?” Tony finally asked shooting a quick stare at Pepper then at you.

You squirmed on the chair pursing your lips from side to side, “I have a problem.”

“You have two problems.” Tony clarified while lifting two fingers, his smirk was almost infuriating and you would tell him so if it wasn’t because the man was right. “But let’s start with the first one.”

You straightened up fixing the chair so you were looking at Pepper and Tony at the same time, the older woman was just as interested as Tony in hearing what you were going to say. The affair you had with Natasha was not a mystery to anyone, you were not that subtle and Natasha had change. But in the last couple of months, it had become evident that Wanda Maximoff had come in between whatever was happening, and you were quite taken by the young woman.

You shifted on the chair trying to put some order to your thoughts; you knew there was tension between Natasha and Wanda. It was quite evident that instead of improving things were getting worse and the tension amongst them had a common ground and that was you. You were not an idiot; you knew this and you suspected the reason though you were still happy by being an inhabitant of denial land. You were not ready to admit to anything. Not until you were sure.

“Look I love Natasha.” Pepper gasped and Tony almost fell of his chair, you snorted rolling your eyes. “Not like that. I...I love her, I’m not in love with her.”

Tony made a noise at the back of his throat, scowling at you while pointing an accusing finger your way.

“You should never say something like that without a warning first.”

“Sorry the English language is so limited I can’t say ‘I love you’ without you guys thinking is my soulmate or something.” You rolled your eyes leaning back on the chair.

“Very well, you love Natasha...like a friend.” Pepper decided to interrupt, you nodded and Tony snorted.

“Does she know?” You and Pepper glared at him before you resumed your conversation.

“I know that something is going on between her and Wanda, and…gods, I know it has to do with me.” This time around you felt the blush growing in your face, you looked away squirming uncomfortably. “I have never had this kind of situations before. I---literally, I was lucky to get a girlfriend in my world, and we weren’t even official.”

Pepper softened at your comment, for the very first time seeing the young woman you really were. She could see who was hiding behind the easy smile and the extrovert personality you used to show around; this was part of what you hid from everyone else. Unsure of what was really happening, not used to people taken noticed of you…not wanting to hurt anyone because it was quite evident you loved easily.

“I would propose a threesome.” Tony winced when once again you and Pepper glared at him, the whisp of air pushing him back. “But you guys don’t like my idea so…”

“Y/N the important thing here is: what do you want?”

“Who do you want?” Tony intervened nodding. “I would be terrified of Romanoff since she could easily kill me in my sleep, but she seems to be a softy around you. Now, Maximoff is completely smitten and she seems to need someone to share her time with.”

Silence filled the office after Tony stopped talking, you started playing with your tongue inside your mouth. The only ring you had rolling around your fingers, you lifted your eyes and found those of Tony looking at you with kindness and understanding.

“I don’t want to lose Natasha, you know? I really…she was the first person I met in this world, and she really was the first one I trusted with everything.” You said with your smile reflecting your feelings for her. “I don’t want to mess up this with Natasha because…”

“You love her.” Pepper finished for you in understanding.

“Exactly. Don’t get me wrong, given the time I could totally imagine myself falling in love with her, but she has always put this barrier between us…” You made a gesture to show the invisible barrier. “I mean she knows everything about me, and I hardly know her.”

“And Wanda?”

“She is amazing, you know?” You perked up leaning in. “And she is kind, open and funny when she wants to. But also, I don’t want to hurt her, and I don’t want to lose her as a friend if…”

Tony, General Ross and Senator Stern are waiting for you.

Tony winced wrapping up his hands and leaning in, you offer a half smile knowing Tony would need to go.

“Look before I go to this meeting I really don’t want to go to,” he started locking his eyes with you, “I think Pepper is right on this one.”

“Only on this one?” Pepper chuckled when Tony ignored her waving his hand away.

“You should think about you, and what you want. What you need. Undoubtedly, someone is going to get hurt.” Tony shrugged. “It is bound to happen because you know they like you, a lot.”

This was the very first time someone faced you with the harsh reality of what had been happening back at the compound.

“You need to choose who is going to get hurt, fix it and then move on.” Tony stood up grabbing his things. “I know you will make the right choice, but don’t forget that you also deserve to be happy.”

“Thank you, Tony.” You stood up offering a sincere smile to the man, “I know having you as my first choice for this conversation was the best option.”

Tony beamed putting his glasses on, “a pleasure, Agent Y/N, now bring my car back to the compound in a single piece.”

You chuckled watching as Tony left, when you fixed you stare on Pepper the older woman was observing you critically.

“What is it?”

“Was he really your first option?” Pepper asked amused.

“Nah, but Cap was kinda busy and Sam didn’t want to get involve. I don’t know where Bruce is, and Thor and Clint are MIA.” You shrugged while Pepper chuckled at your honesty. “I knew Tony would propose the threesome, but I knew he would also listen to me.”

Pepper rolled her eyes; she too knew Tony would propose something as stupid as a threesome when it was evident you were asking for an emotional advice. The woman softened again understanding what you weren’t saying that you were looking for someone to listen to you and Natasha was obviously not an option.

“You know he is right,” Pepper commented standing up, “someone is going to get hurt, but you also have a right to think about yourself and what would make you happy.”

You swallowed down your fears, nodding to Pepper. “I know.”

“I will see you around, Y/N, don’t be a stranger now that you are an active agent.” You hugged pepper kissing her cheek before walking towards the door.

“I won’t Pepper, see you around.” You waved good-bye and go back home, ready to face the conversations you were dreading to have.

Whatever you had planned for the day it never happened.

As soon as you crossed the gates of the compound Clint, Natasha, Fury, and Coulson were waiting for you. They were wearing serious expressions, and the moment you enter the living room you had a feeling they stopped talking. All eyes were on you, you put the keys away furrowing your brows.

“Hello?” You spoke hesitantly, “good to have you here?”

Natasha pressed her lips together hiding her smile, Fury shot you an unimpressed stare.

“Where were you?” It was Coulson the first one who broke the silence, you looked surprised at the question pointing with your thumb the door behind you.

“Out. I was at Tony’s office, why? Did I miss something?” You blinked confusedly; Barton tried to cover his laughter when Fury growled annoyed.

“Your phone, for starters.” Natasha lifted the mobile you were given on the day of the debrief. You winced scratching the back of your head.

“Right, the phone.” You locked your eyes with those of Natasha, but the young woman didn’t even flinch.

“You have a mission.” Fury finally cut in, “the file was sent to your phone, and you were supposed to leave an hour ago, now you are late.”

“What? How come?” You went to Natasha grabbing your phone while opening the file, your hand trembled as you read into the mission.

Natasha couldn’t take her eyes off of you, her hand placing itself on your lower back as your jaw clenched reading into the details. Fury crossed his arms, while Coulson and Clint interchanged stares.

“You gotta be kidding me.” You finally mumbled standing up. “You’re sending me there?”

“Yes, there is some vital information we required, and you are the only one that knows the country.”

“It’s not my country.” You replied through gritted teeth.

Fury didn’t ease his stance, his sole eye pinning you to the spot, “you know enough. You will leave in 30 minutes, Barton and Romanoff are going with you.”

You opened your mouth ready to say something else but the hand wrapping around yours stopped you. Your eyes flickered towards Natasha who shook her head, the tension broke the same way it had built itself.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” You squeezed Natasha’s hand tenderly before letting go. “I’ll go for my stuff.”

Fury watched as you left, they waited for a moment before the man turned to Natasha.

“Are you sure this is wise?” He asked, Natasha nodded.

“I am, we do need the information, and she does know her way around there.” Natasha turned to the hall you had disappeared into. “Besides, I think she needs to go there, sooner or later she will do it. Better to do so with us watching her closely.”

Fury shot the woman a sceptical stare, but Natasha ignored him.

“That’s why you propose the girlfriend’s cover?” Clint asked with a knowing grin that was soon wiped away by a pillow hitting him on his face.

“Shut it, Barton.”

Wanda was surprised to see you standing right in front of her door, a backpack on your back and an apologetic smile on your lips.

“Hey, Y/N.” She smiled brightly at you, and you couldn’t help but returned the smile. “Laundry day?”

“What?” You glanced back to see your backpack. “Oh, no just…I got my first mission and, I can’t give any details but just…I came to tell you I’ll be out of the country for a while?”

The comment came as a question, you were frowning in confusion and uncertainty. When you first thought about this, it seemed like a good idea, but now that you were thinking it through and that you had spoken, well…you looked stupid.

Wanda’s smile dropped, her eyes flickering around before settling on you.

“Oh, I…that’s cool!” She tried to sound excited but her voice came wrong, and you realized she was just like you. Completely lost as to what to do, or how to do it.

“I…yeah, but….well…” You snorted shaking your head. “I just wanted to let you know, Natasha and I are not going to be around here for a little while, but I expected you to keep on your training.”

Wanda sighed looking away rather annoyed the moment she realized this mission was in the company of the Black Widow.

“Sure, I’ll keep doing all the exercises on my own. I’ll keep my training.” Wanda shifted from one foot to the other, you pressed your lips together locking your eyes with hers.

“I will miss you, Wanda. I’ll try to be back really soon.” You finally said leaning in until your lips touched her cheek. “Take care.”

Wanda watched your retreating form, a nice blush covering her cheeks as she bit her lower lip unable to say she would miss you too.

The jet was silent overflying the mountain chain leading to your final destination.

The ride had been silent so far, Natasha had been reading some reports while you were giving the task of creating an electronic signature of your supposedly vacations with Barton giving his insight from time to time.

While you tried to focus your attention on the mission, your mind decided to bring visions of Wanda every once in a while. Her smile, or her voice, her laughter, and that cute crunching of her nose; you would sigh whenever she sneaked inside your mind only to go back to your work without noticing the glances Natasha shoot your way or the way Clint observed you and Natasha from afar.

Whenever you weren't thinking about Wanda, you were thinking about Natasha and how strange she had behaved ever since the both of you left the States. She wasn't cold, but she wasn't welcoming either. There was something bothering her but so far it had been impossible for you to find out what it was. 

We are close to our destination. Get ready for landing. 

You straightened up looking out the window, your heart leaped at the familiar sight of the buildings you had seen several times in your own time. Your own universe.  A buzz of excitement went through your body, you were home. Almost. In a way this was a place you knew fairly well, and it was one of the reasons as to why you were sent here. 

"Everything is… the same." You mumbled putting your laptop and weapon in the bag. 

"Is it?" Natasha came closer to you, her eyes glancing out of the window with a critical eye. "Are you excited?" 

"I am." You replied almost immediately, "but I'm also… nostalgic? Perhaps, a little sad? I haven't been here in so long, and this isn't even my real home. It's just a place that looks like it."

"This is not your world, Y/N." Natasha struggled to get the right words while making sure she had your attention. "But it doesn't mean it cannot be your home."

Clint opened his eyes in surprised, but you just furrowed your brows at the comment. Natasha made her way to the cabin leaving you with Clint and Fitz, the two men were supposed to be the back up getting ready to land.

“You ready?” Clint asked placing a hand on your shoulder, you turned to him smiling nervously.

“I am. I just…” You trailed off making a gesture with your hand, Fitz was confused though Clint seemed to understand what you meant.

“You’ll do fine, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, Clint.” You mumbled watching as Natasha came to you, her eyes bright as they locked with yours.

"Hey, are you ready?" Natasha was back, her features hardened by the oncoming mission. 

"As ready as I can be, Nat." You stood up smiling shakily at you, it took her a moment but soon you found yourself breathless after the woman gave you a hard kiss before pulling away. 

"Let's go, then."

Clint, Fitz and you were left frozen in place as the other woman jumped right to the spot they were supposed to land in.

“Damn, Y/N you are one lucky bastard, you know that, right?” Fitz commented advancing and going right after Natasha.

Clint changed his whole demeanour; he locked his eyes with you and you knew the man was not happy with the show of affection Natasha had just done. This was far beyond the mission, and you and Clint knew that.

“Don’t hurt her.” You winced watching as Clint left.

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” You mumbled following them ready to face your first mission.

It felt strange to go back to your native language.

The words rolled out easily enough, without any effort you maintained the tone and the pace while flirting with the receptionist. The young woman was quite enchanted by your story about being there with your girlfriend to get to know the land you were born in.

“I surely hope you’re not flirting with the receptionist, Y/L/N.”

You ignored Barton while thanking the woman for her attention and her indications to get to your room, with a wink and a smile you turned to Natasha that was waiting for you torn between amusement and exasperation.

Natasha knew the moment you got there, you were going to be distracted by everything and everyone. She had enjoyed the ride from the southern part of the city to the location of your hotel in the northern part of the city; Natasha found herself quite enthralled by your talk about the weather and how changing it was going from a raining afternoon to a sunny one in less than a couple of minutes. Natasha couldn't help her amusement at your behaviour. It was like having a puppy on a walk to the park, you got distracted by the simplest of things mumbling to yourself whenever you saw a familiar sight or something was different. 

The moment you got to your room, you gasped turning to Natasha dragging her inside the room throwing your backpacks on the bed.

"Oh, my god!! And there is only one bed!! And we're pretending to be a couple!!" You all but squealed excitedly before breaking into a fit of giggles letting yourself fall on the bed.

“What are you talking about?”

“I got the reference.”

Natasha snorted throwing her bag aside shaking her head at your antics. You lifted the upper side if your body tilting your head at her. 

"You didn't get the reference, did you?" 

"Not really." 

You groaned lying on the bed again, "I need internet friends." 

"You really don't." Natasha went to lay beside you, "you're weird as it is, I can’t imagine you with more people encouraging you."

You chuckled glancing at the ceiling, the sudden change didn't go unnoticed by Natasha who turned her head to look at you. 

“I didn’t remember some of the streets, or some of the buildings.” You sat up glancing around the room before setting your stare on Natasha. “Shall we change and go downtown? Clint, are you coming with us or are you staying here with Fitz?”

“We’re staying, but you can keep this channel open to know you guys are fine.”

Natasha watched you get up and moving to the bathroom, the woman knew you were more affected by this mission that you let on. You might act excited and ready to work, but she knew you. And she had seen the broken stare in your eyes, you were deep in memories of what you didn’t have.

“Tasha?” You frowned glancing at the redhead, “are you alright?”

“Yes, why?”

“I was asking for my bag, but never mind.” You eyed the woman carefully before grabbing some shirts, “I’ll change and then we can go.”

“Take your time, is still early.”

You snorted shaking your head, “It’s 3pm, in an hour more or less is going to get dark. We need to hurry if we want to this today.”

The door of the bathroom closed behind you; Natasha huffed standing up getting ready for the first part of the mission.

Natasha thought this mission was the perfect moment for you and her to have a nice conversation about…your relationship.

The mission included surveillance and some espionage, nothing that might require engaging in dangerous situations. It was the perfect moment for her to be honest with you, and for you to look for the closing you hadn’t have as of yet.

That was the only reason why she requested to be a part of the mission. 

Of course, a part of her was regretting it as soon as you started making use of those social skills of yours, that charm that seemed to be part of you, and that smile and flirty nature that Natasha knew you were not even aware of.

Natasha was already glaring daggers at the receptionist that found whatever excuse she could to touch your arm, or leaned closer while pretending to show you a map of a city you already knew by heart. More laughter, you offered a dazzling smile and whatever it was you said had the other woman blushing. 

“Come on guys, Y/N you need to stop that…”

“You sound jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, I can do that.”

“Which part, the flirting, or the distracting?”

“Barton, Fitz, shut up.” Natasha whispered as she got closer to Y/N and the receptionist.

The young woman was moving closer, and her lips were moving in the form of an invitation. You were quite excited apparently, and the woman’s eyes gleam in triumph. This was Natasha's cue to intervene, because you were oblivious to the effect you had on the people surrounding you and Natasha simply couldn't pretend much longer she didn't care. 

"Hey, baby."

You almost jumped out of your skin when soft arms wrapped around your waist, Natasha put her chin on your shoulder pretending to see the same map the now flustered receptionist was showing you. 

"Hey, love." You congratulated yourself for not letting your voice falter at the closeness of the red-head or the way her fingertips were playing with your skin under the shirt. 

"Are you ready yet or are we waiting for something else?" Natasha was just acting her part, but the young woman made sure the receptionist knew her limits. 

You turned to the side, stealing a kiss before nodding. 

"Yep, Carolina here was telling me about some good places," you replied rather excitedly. "Can you believe they still have the biggest gay bar in all the region? We have to go!" 

"How nice of Carolina to tell you this." Natasha said dryly shooting a quick glare at the other woman. "Did she recommend where we can eat? Or she only mentioned gay bars and night entertainment in general?" 

Natasha could see the hinges inside your head working around her words, your eyes growing wide in understandings and soon you were grinning like an idiot. 

"Carolina here did recommend some good places for a night's entertainment, love." It took you sometime but in the end your turned the same dazzling smile to Carolina then back at Natasha who was acting her part of doting girlfriend while trying to hide her amusement. 

"I think there may be a form of entertainment we can share together with Carolina; don't you think Love?"  You were enjoying this interaction greatly; this was a side of yourself you had never explored.  

The receptionist couldn't help the gasp that left her mouth or the blush adorning her features but before anything else could be said you were being dragged away and other guests were requiring her attention. 

“Jesus, guys I hope you’re not offering a threesome or I may gag at that.”

“You really would gag at that, Barton?”

“They are like…my sisters of something, so yes. I will gag.”

The sun of mid-afternoon hit you straight in the face, your laughter filled the busy street with Natasha rolling her eyes at you and Barton’s words.

"Did you see her face?" You chuckled some more putting your hands on your pockets, "damn, what a dirty mind."

"Your innuendo was more than clear, Y/N." Natasha hit you on the arm to keep you still, you turned to her and soon your laughter died replaced by a more relaxed stare. 

"Were you jealous, Ms. Longbottom?"  Natasha snorted pocking your forehead with a single finger before moving past you. 

"You wish, Ms. Hoz."

You really wished Natasha was more honest with herself and in turn more honest with you. The both of you strolled down the streets of the city, you were watching around with eager eyes, the way a tourist did in their first trip. 

It was perfect. 

It took you two more than one hour to reach the destination. Downtown was not only the historic centred of the city, but it was also the political and economic beacon of the whole country. In here it was easier to see foreigners either as tourist or businesspeople running around a city that was just starting to be a part of the world. 

"Look!!" You grabbed Natasha's hand in yours dragging her towards a small building standing right in the middle if two modern ones. 

"This is a church!" 

Natasha furrowed her brows glancing at the old building, the doors as well as the windows were made of worn-out oak. The upfront was rather rusty breaking the charm of modernity around it. Before Natasha could do or say something she was being dragged inside. 

"I didn't know you were religious…" She started tensing when the warm of the day was replaced by the coldness of the building. 

"Of course, I am, I love it when you beg for me, love." You and Natasha laughed hearing the moan of exasperation from Clint. You winked at the woman behind you, ignoring the scandalized stares by some churchgoers. Natasha snorted letting go of your hand before leaning in. 

"You're an idiot." She all but whispered moving past you. 

"Oh, but I am your idiot… if you want to."

The last part was whispered and you could see as Natasha stiffened almost falling on her steps. Then she continued walking around without even looking back at you; you couldn’t hear them, but you were sure that Clint and Fitz were trying to pretend they just didn’t hear the conversation.

You let out a sigh shaking your head while going a different hall. Without a doubt you like Natasha, and you really loved spending time with her but more than that, you love her. You weren't in love with her, you hadn't had the chance to get there, but that was mainly because the woman kept on pushing you away whenever you get too personal. 

She knew about you. She knew your secrets. She even knew your real name, not the one you gave yourself the moment you arrived in this world. She was the first real friend you made, and that would always count for something. You lifted your eyes to the figure of a Jesus being helped down of the cross. 

Your hands in your pockets as, without any warning, you remembered Wanda. And you had to wonder what she was doing, and how she was doing. If perhaps she kept watching her sitcoms or was trying to get asleep while in the middle of a storm.

But you also wondered if perhaps she was thinking about you the way you thought of her. 

"What are you praying for?" An old lady came closer, she was wearing a tired smile but her eyes were kind and open. 

You smiled back glancing at the figure of Jesus, "love I guess."

The old woman chuckled shaking her head while putting a coin inside the candle box. A single candle ignited as the metal sound of the coin falling broke the silence. 

"Then you will get it, love that's it." the woman placed a hand on yours. "have a good day."

"You too ma'am."

Natasha was glancing at the interaction from afar, pressing her lips together she buried her emotions to get down to business. 

You lifted your eyes to see Natasha disappearing behind some columns, and you knew that was the signal that she had found the entrance. With a gesture born out of tradition more than anything else you pulled a coin from your pocket and put it in the box 

For a happy ending. 

The place was dark and wet. 

There was a putrid smell of stagnant water, mixed with rotten wood and flesh. You were sure to clean up the path before you, looking back to make sure Natasha was following your steps. 

"So can I ask for a raised after this?" 

"Does it look as if I get a raised after doing something like this?" Natasha asked arching a brow.

You pressed your lips together nodding sharply. Of course not. The ball of fire on your hand grew a little as you tried to locate the entrance to the building’s basement. 

"Why am I doing this again?" Natasha shook her head amused by your complains. 

"You said you wanted to be an agent like me"

"Oh." the ball of fire danced dangerously in your hand, you turned to Natasha with a serious expression. "That was stupid, I would never be like you in a million years, even if I tried."

"You're not that bad." 

"I didn't say I was bad, just not as good as you." You replied shaking your head. “I know I’m good.”

Natasha snorted spotting your smirk at the comment. 

"Gods, I really don't get a break from you guys." Natasha commented. "If it's not you I get the bratty attitude from Barton or Stark."

"Watch it, Romanoff, I'm not bratty." 

“I’m not bratty either, I resent that comment.” You knew Barton was pouting petulantly at the moment, Natasha huffed but decided to not push the matter any further.

The terrain changed abruptly, the murky water soon gave way to dry ground and then they were standing right in front of walls of concrete instead of stone and earth. You made the ball of fire in your hand grow, the yellowish light illuminating the dark tunnel. Natasha brushed her shoulder against yours, on her hand she had a device making readings on their position. 

"I think this is the place."

"It is, you think this is enough?" Natasha waited for you to speak, you stepped forward your free hand testing the stone under your fingertips. 

"I can do it," You pursed your lips clenching your left hand to make the fire disappear. "Can you give me light?" 

The flashlight from Natasha's phone pointed directly to spot you were feeling up. The spy pulled out the small device to check if the location was corrected, the red light on a spot in the map indicated they were. 

"How long have you known?" You finally asked stepping closer to the wall. "About the Hydra operatives?" 

In another circumstances, you wouldn't make such a question. The earpieces were not private, but you knew Clint and Fitz would never say anything or intervene in the conversation. Besides, you were already far too deep into the building for the communication gadgets to work properly. 

Natasha stepped closer, her eyes on the device on her hand. 

"A couple of months." 

You nodded, "how about the infiltration in Shield, the government and the other organizations?" 

Natasha snorted lifting her eyes to see your cheeky smile, your fingertips touching the perfect spot.

"Coulson told you not to read the files." Natasha sounded amused, and you knew she wouldn't tell on you. You knew she probably knew about the last task Coulson had for you, she was aware of all the jobs you were given by SHIELD and Fury. 

"He probably suspected something," you shrugged returning your attention back to the wall. "anyway, it was hard not to snoop some. I think I found it."

Natasha stood behind you glancing around then making the image in the device bigger and brighter for you to see 

"This is the only part of the building that doesn't have any cameras or sensors." She was back to business and you couldn't help the excitement running down your body. 

Everything needed to be perfect. 

"The room we are looking for is right to the left." Natasha nodded at you, "do you have it ready?" 

"Yep, it's in my pocket." 

"Then, this shouldn't be difficult, go in and then out."

You nodded smirking a little, "whatever you said, Agent Romanoff."

Natasha stepped back her eyes on you, you took a deep breath your hands back on the wall. The tingling in your body intensified as you tried to gather enough energy to get the wall out of the way. The red head was mesmerized watching as you pushed and a piece of wall with the perfect cuts and height slid out opening the entrance to the building and leaving the basement at yours and Natasha’s disposal.

With one last glance at Natasha, you smirked.

"Here comes nothing."

By the time Natasha left the bathroom you had dinner ready around the table. She stopped dead in her tracks, the smell of food reaching her nostrils and she could tell you had chosen some of her favourites. 

It was for things like this she felt drawn to you the first time. She had gotten from a mission late at night, no one was around and she was bleeding into the kitchen trying to get a drink or a bottle of vodka to pass out in her room. She wasn't alone, though. You were there and as soon as you saw her you spurred into action without overcrowding her or asking for an explanation. Just taking care of her with light conversation and a first aid kit they had in the kitchen. 

"You okay?" You took your eyes from the TV to look at Natasha, the other woman shook her head sitting by the table. 

"Just tired."

You narrowed your eyes at Natasha but decided to not comment on it. You pointed excitedly the food on the table 

"I ask for your favourites and some of mine. Spicy and salty." Your wink made Natasha snort pointing to the TV. 

Natasha shook her head and soon you were absorbed by whatever was on the TV. The both of you finished dinner discussing the reality show you just watched with excitement. 

"I didn't know you like that kind of shows."

"I don't but that one… well, it was a hit in my world." 

Natasha took a good look at you and she knew you were homesick. You had been nostalgic ever since the landing, the spy couldn't blame you and if anything, she wanted to encourage you to see this world, to see your former home. 

Perhaps it would help you out and made you think of staying permanently. 

"Have you found many differences between this country and the one in your world?" 

You shifted on the chair putting your legs up, the sound of a commercial resounding in the room. 

"Not many, then again we have been here for a day." You sighed thinking about downtown, the streets even the place you had chosen as your hotel. 

"I mean there are buildings that don't exist back home, then there are others that are the same." You smiled sadly, your heart crunching up at the thought of your family. 

"The church we were in today, that spot was reserved for three different churches." you draw an invisible line in the table showing Natasha the position they were in. "They have at least 400 years, and they are filled with history but… today there was only one. A forgotten one."

Natasha shifted on her chair leaning in, her hands firmly placed on her lap. She contained her need to go over you and comfort you. It wasn't fair that you made her feel so much, that you made her weak. 

"Even history went differently." The tv show was back on, people were fighting over while the host was trying to calm the participants. "They didn't live half the things we did. And yet, they are just as happy and nice and welcoming."

You trailed off all of a sudden, the memory of home overwhelming you in ways it hadn't since your first days in that world. You turned your face away to hide your tears, your arms around your legs putting them closer to your chest. 

"It was a cruel move to bring me here in my first mission," you finally stated. "I understand why you guys did it, still it was cruel."

Silence fell between the both of you, your thoughts dancing around what you had seen so far and what you wished you could see. Natasha from her part was holding back unless she ended up saying or doing something she would regret. The tension was broken by the sound of a beep and you straightened up all business like going towards your laptop. 

"We're in." You sat down in the bed; your eyes gleaming excitedly. Whatever sadness or anger was there forgotten in favour of the mission with Natasha sitting down beside you and Clint and Fritz joining in the conversation.

For more than a week the both of you had been doing surveillance work around the two buildings surrounding the small church while Barton and Fitz worked on other pieces of information with the files you had stolen the first night. It had been a hard work, and while you had gathered important information there was still pieces if the puzzle left to unveil. 

It hadn't been easy, but you were really quite smart and resourceful and Natasha had been there to lend a hand when necessary. In all this time you couldn't help but think there was something different, you knew you didn't know Natasha all too well but you were not that clueless the other woman had behaved strangely towards you. Perhaps it was due to the mission, or how slow everything seemed to be, perhaps it was the fact you were being watched over or perhaps was the receptionist that kept on flirting with you any chance she got. 

You really didn't know what was happening, but you wished things with Natasha were easier. More than a lover, you had always considered her a friend and at least you thought she considered you one as well. 

Whatever tension had built around the both of you, reached the breaking point on the last day you were supposed to visit the building with the excuse to go to the Skydeck. It was supposed to be a guide visit, but you never imagine the old lady you found on your first day was someone under Hydra’s payroll.

“NATASHA!” You screamed out watching as the woman fell down the stairs with two other agents fighting her over, your eyes gleamed dangerously as a bloodthirsty smile show on your face.

The three men pointing their weapons at you hesitated, and this was all you needed. You clenched your fists close, sliding your right leg up front while your left leg made a semi-circle, your left arm trusting forth with fire coming out of it. You lifted your right arm pointing it towards the man standing in front of you, another ball of fire and soon there was one man left that tried his hardest to shoot you without actually pointing his weapon to a target. For him you had a gust of cutting air, his last bullet went right through your arm leaving a painful scratch that you ignored as soon as the voice of Clint reached you.

“Y/N, where are you? Natasha needs your help!”

“Coming!” You jumped up helping yourself with the control you had over the wind, moving fast towards the building leaping on the walls down the stairs.

Natasha was engaged in a combat with two more operatives, the other two were on the ground blood around them. You jostled one of the attackers sending him all the way to the ceiling and then letting him fall to the ground; his partner hesitated and this was enough for Natasha to knock him out.

“So, I guess they discovered us?” You commented walking towards Natasha, the woman rolled her eyes grabbing your hand.

“Time to go.” She said dragging you down another hall, “can you make us a route of scape?”

The both of you are running down different halls, moving downstairs while hearing more men coming your way. Probably local men hired to protect whatever it was in the building, your eyes rolled down the walls and the stairs until you located the fire alarms right above your head.

“I can think of a distraction, yes.” Stopping dead on your tracks you trust a single punch in the air, fire coming out of your arm and closed fist shooting directly to the ceiling. As soon as the heated reach the alarms the whole building went into emergency mode and water started falling around you.

“So, your idea of us getting out of here is water and fire?” Natasha exclaimed; you shook your head grabbing the other woman by her waist putting her to you. “What are you…”

You didn’t notice the trembling on her voice, nor the way she just came at you with her arms wrapping around your back. You concentrated lifting a single leg and pushing down, the both of you fell to the lower floor, reaching the third floor in a second.

“Two more and we will be on the basement.” You whispered in Natasha’s ear, the woman holding onto you as you repeated your actions until you reached the basement.

On the upper floor everything was chaos with people trying to find the reason behind the hole in the middle of the hall, or the fire coming from the fourth and fifth floor. Natasha put her hands on your shoulders stepping back, you didn’t even take notice of her actions you were concentrated on creating enough distractions so no one would dare to look for you two.  You gather the water around you freezing the electric system before punching it and shattering the cables.

“See? Now, they don’t have time to go after us.” You smiled proudly; Natasha couldn’t help but laugh grabbing your hand.

“Stop doing that and let’s go! I’m pretty sure we won’t hear the end of this.”

Night had already fallen by the time Natasha and you had made it to the hotel. Clint and Fitz were out that night, their mission was to do damage control and see if there was something they were missing or if perhaps what had happened would leak out into the public.

You rolled your shoulders while the warm water washed away the dirt and smoke from your skin, you closed your eyes massaging the sore muscles on your arms and neck. The blood was still pumping inside your veins, you felt giddy and restless as if you should be doing something else but you weren’t quite sure what it was.

You were so distracted you never noticed the shadow entering the bathroom, nor the moment you were no longer alone in the shower.

“Wha…” You huffed in surprised but soon found your back against the wall and a pair of lips on yours.

It didn’t take too long for you to put your hands around the well-known body of Natasha, and it took you less to change positions until Natasha had her back to the wall, her head throw back as your lips and tongue taste the skin of her neck, your hands wrapping around her wrists lifting her arms above her head.

“You’re going to keep them there, baby, is that understood?” You growled in her ear; Natasha nodded whimpering when your knee spread her legs pressing against her core. “If you move them, or try to touch me, I will stop and nothing will make me change my mind, oaky?”

“Y-yes.” Natasha moaned when you pressed against her core again.

“What a naughty girl you are, Tasha.” You whispered finding yourself quite aroused at the moment, the fire of the battle still fresh in your mind and body. “Did you plan this?”

Natasha nodded again opening her eyes to lock them with yours, you found yourself lost in those eyes that had such a different shade of green. You furrowed your brows, the memory of Wanda making you feel bad. Guilty.

“No, please…just…” Natasha trembled wanting for you to just stop thinking for a moment. “Please, Y/N, fuck me.”

She all but begged, and you almost went undone at the sight of such a beautiful woman begging with her arms above her head, water rolling down her body, legs spread and a flush covering her body. You pressed forward, shaking the memory of Wanda while pressing your thigh against Natasha, the woman moaned arching her back while her hips thrust forward trying to get more friction.

“I will fuck you, Natasha, and you will scream my name into the night just like you like it.” You whispered in her ear, your hands dancing around her body before you claim her lips in yours.

Natasha melted right away, and for the rest of the night it was just the two of you giving in the passion that had defined your relationship from the very beginning.

The clock on the bedside showed a green three and two green zeros, you blinked a couple of times feeling tired and satisfied. For a moment you wondered why you had woken up, until you shivered under the teasing fingertips drawing patterns on the skin of your back and arm. You shifted turning around to see Natasha watching you with a strange glance in her eyes, you smiled sleepily at her, but you whole demeanour changed the moment you realized her smile was terse.

“Tasha, are you alright?” You asked lifting your hand to caress the woman’s face, you softened slightly thinking of the night before, the conversation you held with Tony and Pepper wondering if perhaps this was the chance you were waiting for.

“I think we need to talk.” Natasha spoke softly, her eyes locking with yours.

“Right now? Can’t it wait until…breakfast or for the sun to show up?” You replied teasingly, but Natasha didn’t smile just kept her eyes on you.

“I think we should stop doing this.” She finally said without any emotion behind her tone.

You stiffened at those words, anger raising inside you when you realized Natasha was speaking seriously.

“What do you mean?” You sat up letting the sheets fall, Natasha sighed sitting up as well though once she did she turned around placing her feet on the cold floor.

“I think this was fun, while it last. But there is no need for us to continue with this…affair.” The word came out wrong, cold and almost dirty, Natasha never turned to face you and thus she could not see the broken stare or the anger reflecting in your face.

“So, what? Last night was a goodbye fuck?” You spat out turning to the left and also placing your feet on the floor giving your back to her.

“If you want to call it that, then yes. A goodbye fuck.” Natasha prided herself of being emotionally detached of the situations she had to face on her everyday life as an Avenger, a spy and as a woman; never before she thought her emotions, her very heart would be as compromised as it was right now.

And yet, she thought this was the best decision she could make in regard to her relationship with you. Even if you were mad at the moment, that anger would pass and you would find relief and comfort in another’s arms. Probably Wanda’s.

“You are unbelievable.” You stood up circling the bed until you were standing right in front of Natasha, the woman wearing an expression you couldn’t even recognize. “You know there is something else going on in here, this stupid feud you have with Wanda, the way you always come to me, Natasha are you seriously denying there is something going on?”

You didn’t know why it bother you so much.

You had known Natasha for a long time, you had heard her excuses to never give in any kind of relationship. Emotions were weakness. You had never agreed but you respect her way of thinking, it was one of the things that always hang above your heads whenever you found yourselves sharing a bed. But right now, and after all this time, it was plain stupid.

“There is nothing else but sex, Y/N.” Natasha shrugged standing up looking for her clothes, “it was fun while it last, but we really need to face the fact that you are an Avenger now, and an active Agent. Soon you would get to see the world and you will realize what you have with me was juts for comfort and company.”

“How dare you…” You were trembling, your lips shivering as you tried to grasp the right words without exploding in hurtful comments. “Why do you insist on running away for something like this?”

“Like what?” Natasha scoffed putting on her shirt, you grabbed her hand turning her around until your face was right in front of hers.

“Like what could happen between you and me.” You whispered but Natasha made a face stepping back.

“Look, Y/N I just think this would be a good time to end this affair and go back to just being friends.” Natasha stepped back turning her back at you. “I really don’t fancy any drama, or complications, your friendship is more valuable that whatever romantic relationship we could harbour. It wouldn’t work in the end. I’m not into getting myself attached to a single person.”

It hurt.

It hurt more than you care to admit.

Natasha never turned to face you for fear of her resolution to falter and she would give in to you. She did wince when, after a while the door on the hotel room closed with a heavy bang and you left. Once she knew she was alone, Natasha sat back on the bed, her heart hammering hard against her chest, and warm tears rolling down her cheeks.

The sun was just breaking through the cloudy sky.

The placed was incomplete silence, with a group of trees creating a refreshing shade while the wind blew softly making the flowers and the leaves danced around creating multiple shadows on the ground.

You stood right in the middle of and angel, and a freshly brough crown of flowers.

Your eyes followed the patterns on the gravestone, your heart twitching painfully on your chest as you read the words the way you had done since you arrived at the graveyard. Time passed by, but you weren’t aware of how long you were there; you just stood there organizing your thoughts.

The sound of approaching footsteps made you tense.

You waited until you were sure you were no longer alone; it didn’t take too long for you to know who was right behind you. You shifted looking out of the corner of your eyes at Natasha Romanoff, the woman had a single flower on her hand. A chrysanthemum.

“I would ask you how you knew where to find me but, that would be a rhetoric question.” You turned to the other woman, “you’re Natasha Romanoff, of course you knew I would do this.”

Natasha didn’t react to your words, instead she knelt right in front of the gravestone placing the flower with reverence. Her fingertip outlining the black letters slowly, you gasped clenching your fists before letting go of the tension that had accumulated in your body.

“How did it happen?” Natasha finally asked, you gulped lowering your gaze.

“Car accident. School trip.” You sighed dropping your shoulders.

“You have a beautiful name, Y/N.” Natasha stood up using the name you had taken in her world but referring to the name you had in yours the one written in black letters on the gravestone.

“Thank you.” You whispered finally daring to face Natasha. “I guess this prove the theory Bruce have in regard to the multiverse. As long as there is no other me in this universe, my existence is not a paradox.”

Natasha could tell you were quite affected by the whole situation; it wasn’t easy to see your name on a grave you knew was not empty. It was even harder knowing you were dead, that at some point something changed, some decisions were different and while you got to live in one world you died in another.

“So, this was the reason you didn’t go looking for your family?”

You let out a humourless chuckled, “can you imagine their reaction at seeing someone that looks like their death daughter?”

Natasha winced painfully at those words; it was difficult to her knowing there was one version of you that was no longer in her world. She couldn’t imagine what would be like to lose you only to have a copy of you, someone that perhaps didn’t know her the way you did. Or that simply looked like you but was a complete opposite of how you were.

“No, I wasn’t about to come looking for them. Even if I can imagine I look different.” The wind around you twirled wildly before dispersing around the graves.

“Y/N, about last night…” Natasha started observing with care as you stiffened, you looked away lowering your head.

“I’m sorry I left the way I did. I should have said something.” You finally dared to look over at Natasha and for the very first time you noticed the signs of bags under her eyes and the glint of sadness in her light eyes. Natasha offered a half smile getting closer to you, her hand placing itself on your forearm.

“Don’t worry.” Silence fell between them, your eyes locked with hers.

“Natasha, I think you are right. We need to stop whatever it is we have going on.” You blurted out as tenderly as you could but without any hesitation. You felt her hand clenched tightly around you, her eyes flashing with pain before Natasha offered a shaky smile.

“I know.” She all but whispered. “I’m sorry you left thinking that…this meant nothing to me. It’s just…It didn’t mean what you thought it did.”

“That was confusing, but I understand.” This time around it was you the one that looked hurt, you cocked your head when Natasha let go of your hand stepping back a little so the both of you are facing one another.

Natasha broke her mask for a brief instant, and you could see this was not easy for her.

“You are no longer a prisoner, Y/N. You are free, and you should go out there and meet this world. Be the hero you want to be, meet the people you are meant to meet.”

You heart melted at those words; you broke into a gentle smile as Natasha snorted.

“You never heard this from me, or I hurt you.” You lifted your arms in a sign of defeat and Natasha chuckled. “I enjoyed greatly our time together, I enjoyed the sex.”

“The best you ever have, right?” You couldn’t help but ask, your eyes going big when all of a sudden Natasha looked away coyly with a flush adorning her features. “Really? The best you ever have?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to be serious here.” Natasha rolled her eyes, and the smack she gave you on the arm was enough to wipe away the grin on your face and wince in pain. “Really, is not the best but…”

“Liar.” You pouted and Natasha couldn’t help but laughed, after a few seconds you joined in and the tension broke and you decided it was time for you to speak.

“Natasha, I love you.” Your eyes went wide when you saw the myriad of emotions reflecting in the light green eyes of Natasha. There was fear, as well as relief and disbelief, soon you stepped forward placing your hands on her shoulders before Natasha could run away from the conversation.

“Woah, there Romanoff, hold your horses and let me explain.”

“Explain what?” Natasha exclaimed and you squeezed her shoulders.

“Look what I mean is that I love you, but I’m not in love with you.” You explained as tenderly as you could yet you could see the shattering of Natasha’s heart in the way she held your stare. But as soon as that light of vulnerability showed, it disappeared.

“Perhaps, with time and with you not running away from me all the time, we could get there.” You sighed knowing the answer to the following question. “Only if you want, only if you’re ready to do it…”

“Y/N, I can’t…” Natasha started shaking her head stepping back but you held onto her shoulders tightly.

“I know, and I would never force you to decide or to give me this chance.” You tried to be as clear as possible, the whole time this was all you could think about.  Natasha and…Wanda.

“Natasha, the thing is I love you as my friend, and I don’t want to lose you and I know if we continue playing with fire, we’re going to get burn.” You moved closer to Natasha. “I really don’t want to lose you.”

Natasha swallowed down her emotions, this was what she wanted, right? She knew she could not offer you what you wanted. She was already too afraid to give in, to try and let you inside more than she already had. A friendship she could do, even if it would break her heart, Natasha could do friendship. As long as you were with her, as long as she didn’t lose you.

“I don’t want to lose you either, I am your friend.” Natasha replied relaxing into your arms as you hugged her tightly.

“I would miss the great sex, though.” You commented lightly and your heart fluttered at her laughter.

“You are incorrigible.”

“I know.” You stepped back winking at her, “but you guys love me like this.”

Natasha rolled her eyes biting her tongue before she could that she did. She loved you.

“So, we’re good?” You finally asked and Natasha nodded, you hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “That means no more strange hate/love relationship with Wanda?”

Natasha opened her eyes in surprised at the question, then she nodded curtly again rolling her eyes.

“I think I can work on that.”

“Good because I can tell you right now Sam is making wages to see who kick’s whose ass on the next training session.”

“Of course, he is.” Natasha rolled her eyes falling easily into her banter with you.

The both of you returned your attention to the grave you had been guarding all morning, Natasha hooked her arm to yours offering a friendly squeezed.

“You change your birthday.”

“I did.” You shrugged. “It’s not important, you know? I guess…well, I prefer autumn to summer for my birthday but we will see how it goes next year.”

“You can have two birthdays, you know?” Natasha offered and you laughed.

“That sounds fair, I like that.”

The road back to the gates of the graveyard was done in silence, your heart felt lighter after the conversation you shared with Natasha and while there were things you still wished were different between the both of you, you knew there was one thing you would never sacrifice and that was your friendship with Natasha.

Once you were sitting in the jet, the land you called home getting further and further away, you knew there was another conversation you needed to have back home. You smiled. Home.

The same home Wanda was in waiting for you.

______________________________________________________________

Now for those of you who asked @dandelions4us @anxiousgoldengirl @dark-hunter16

[after-witch]

“Fyodor? Could you walk me home if it’s no problem? It’s just that…I think I’m being stalked. And I think they even do it when I’m s-sleeping…”

notes: yandere, stalking, manipulation

[please note requests are closed, this is a response to a request sent in when they were open]

His expression remains calm, which is a comfort--although you haven't known him all that long, his ability to remain unphased even by potentially dangerous situations is something you admire in him. Perhaps that's what draws you to him, his relaxed demeanor, his seemingly limitless confidence.

Especially right now, with your nerves rattled and your anxieties on edge, you can't help but wish you could cling to him for as long as possible.

"Have you called the police?" He asks, hands in his pockets, already walking along with you.

You slow your steps to his pace, looking up with a grim smile and hoping he reads your thankfulness in it.

"No." You scrap the edge of your lip with your teeth. "I don't have any evidence, I guess. They'll probably just tell me to come back when I do."

Fyodor hums, and you wonder if he had somewhere to be, something to do, and you've delayed him with your request. You'd hate to impose on someone who has given you so much of their time lately, especially a new friend--Lord knows you could use more of those, especially with your boyfriend constantly out of town for work.

"Maybe I'm just paranoid. Sorry to drag you into it."

"It's no trouble," he replies smoothly. "I hope it's simply someone trying to scare you." If he minds walking you home, he's good at hiding it.

As you get closer to your home, closer to less-than-savory parts of the city, your heart begins to pick up. This is where you've most often heard footsteps following you, felt the ghost of a presence out of the corner of your eye.

That familiar feeling of being watched prickles at the edge of your scalp and your arms twitch and you wish you could wrap them around Fyodor's. But the knowledge that your boyfriend might not like it, even though he seemed find with your friendship with Fyodor, keeps your hands clenched around your purse strap.

"Nervous?" He asks, and when you look up at him you could swear there's a glint of amusement in his eyes. But he's like that--a darker sense of amusement than others. And it might just be your imagination, anyway.

When you reach the door of your apartment building, Fyodor stops, and you feel so, so tempted to invite him in. To invite him to stay the night, even.

But you'll have to brave the steps to your third floor apartment alone, and you're already anticipating your neighbors yelling through the doors when they hear your hurried footsteps practically bolting up the metal stairs with heavy clunks.

Though it's not the stairwell that creeps you out the most; it's the prospect of another night spent anxiously trying to sleep as you jerk at very sound you hear--or think you hear. Then in the morning you're left wondering why things are out of place, why things appear to be missing. Once you swear, you swear, there were fingerprints on your bathroom mirror.

Yet there's no possible way your boyfriend will excuse "having another man stay the night at your apartment," and you're forced to give up the fanciful idea.

"Thanks for walking me home," you say, and if you were dating, this is where you could kiss and and part ways. But instead you stand on your toes and offer a quick, genuine hug to a new friend whose presence has quickly become a comforting mainstay in your frenetic life.

He shrugs. "Anytime. But please, if you should feel unsafe... call me."

You nod and usher out more murmurs of thanks as you swipe the keycard to your apartment and wave goodbye. The door closes loudly and you take a deep, stabilizing breath before starting your anxious dash up the stairs.

Behind the door, Fyodor fingers the keycard he stole from an lucky resident. He'll have to be more careful when entering your room in the future.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 21 - Nowhere to Run [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, blood, nightmares.

Word Count: 4300

Summary: Everyone needs a shelter.

For all your life, your sister had always said she hated watching horror movies with you because you would always criticize every character and their choices in the movie.

Who would even stay where they were when they knew there was danger outside, when they knew there was something coming for them?

You had never thought you’d learn the answer first hand;

Because there was nothing else to do, and because that was exactly what you were doing.

Spencer and the rest of his team had sent you away from that basement so that you could get some fresh air and at least attempt to get away from the greeting written on the wall with blood but you knew it was impossible.

There was no running away from that, you had seen it already.

You dangled your legs off the pier back and forth, keeping your gaze on the lake that looked so calm that it was almost like a painting. Funny, you hadn’t ever stopped to enjoy it when you were still a child, you had never actually sat there on the pier to take a breath, wrapped in the safety that would soon disappear.

The footsteps coming closer pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned you head as Spencer sat down next to you.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you croaked out and he ran his fingers through his curls.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

You shook your head, “I’m not sure what home is for me at this point, to be honest with you,” you murmured, “Besides I heard the other agents talking, you guys are going to be pretty busy the moment the rest of your team gets here.”

He heaved a sigh, biting inside his cheek but you kept your gaze on the lake.

“It makes it official right?” you asked, “All these murders…It’s not really about my father’s legacy. It’s about me.”

He stole a look at you, “Y/N…”

“It’s okay professor,” you said, “Trust me, I’m not going to run and scream.”

“The profile is changing constantly with every piece of evidence-“

“Spencer.”

He let out a breath, pursing his lips.

“It is pointing that way so far,” he muttered, “It doesn’t matter though. His legacy or an obsession with you, we’re still going to catch him.”

A silence fell upon you and you cleared your throat, pointing at the woods on the other side of the lake.

“Mina and I used to play the princess and the monster over there,” you said, “I mean… It was either me who was the princess or Mina and I were saving some imaginary princess because Mina wanted to be friends with her.” You used air quotes, “I don’t know whose shock was more fake when she came out, mine or mom’s.”

He let out a small laugh, “Yeah?”

“Mm hm, and right over there,” you pointed at the right, “Linc chased me with a worm in his hand to scare me off, and I ended up falling into the damn lake.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Then Mina pushed him into the lake too and we all got grounded for the whole weekend.” You let out a breath and pointed back at the cabin with your thumb, “And right there, dad showed me how to kill someone for the first time.”

His head shot up, “What?”

You scoffed, “He didn’t tell you that during those sessions?”

Spencer shook his head, frowning.

“He taught me…” you wetted your lips, “How to- how to hunt, that’s what he called it. Predator and prey. After teaching me how to analyze places to find a weapon, he taught me how to find my way in the woods. Just in case. He used to um-“ you cleared your throat, “I don’t really remember all of it, I don’t know how much of it are nightmares or memories, but I remember once he dragged me here in the middle of the night, and he opened the door and there was this man…”

“Petal honey, don’t get so close to him,” your father called out from the kitchen he sharpened the knife as you took a step closer to the man who was gagged and bleeding profusely, still whimpering on the floor. Even in the dim light you could see the look of terror on his face and your heart skipped a beat as you turned your head to look at your father.

“Daddy, he-“ you shifted your weight from one foot to other, “Maybe we can just leave him like this. He’d be dead by the morning.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked before getting closer to you, flipping the knife in his hand and the man started yelling through the gag, but it was muffled. Your father extended his hand, motioning at the huge teddy bear you were hugging closer to your chest and you bit on your lip, then handed him that.

“You can get the teddy back after you answer 3 questions right, you know the rules,” he told you, “Alright, if I wanted him to die quickly, where would I stab?”

“Jugular.”

“Where’s the jugular?”

You pointed at the man’s neck, “There.”

“Good. What if I wanted him to suffer for hours with just one stab wound?”

You paused and scrunched up your nose, forcing your mind for the information before you looked up at him.

“In the stomach,” you said, “Stomach acid hurts.”

He thought for a second, then handed you the teddy back.

“Good job honey,” he said and walked to the man with the knife in his hand.

“I couldn’t do anything,” you pressed your lips together, “For hours and hours he tortured him and when we got back home, I went to bed and the next morning I wouldn’t stop shivering, I kept throwing up and my mom thought I had the flu so we ended up not coming to the cabin that weekend. I know how he—” you clicked your tongue, “I know how he pretends to be a normal guy. During those interviews, that documentary, even in those sessions with you he keeps pretending like he’s normal, but I know him. I know the real monster and I…”  you sniffled and cleared your throat, “Profiler or not, you have no idea what he’s capable of. He put me through actual hell, Spencer. No wonder I can’t remember half of this shit, I think I’d lose my mind if I did.”

“Y/N…”

“I didn’t stop him.”

He frowned, “How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“You couldn’t have stopped him even if you wanted to,” Spencer told you, “You were a child.”

“I could’ve told someone,” you murmured, looking at the lake, “I could’ve done something.”

“You were a child,” he repeated, “Children trust their parents, okay? You know it as well as I do that he’s a master at manipulation. Whatever he has done, it’s not your fault.”

“I doubt those bodies in the basement would agree with you,” you managed to say and let out a humorless chuckle, “Besides, I’m my father’s daughter, remember? You told me so yourself.”

The impact of your words would’ve been surprising if you weren’t so distracted by your own misery. He pulled back as if you had just slapped him, his hazel eyes searching your face and he swallowed thickly, opening and closing his mouth like he was at loss for words.

“I didn’t mean—” he paused, shaking his head “Y/N, that wasn’t the truth.”

You grabbed the cigarette out of your purse and lit it, dangling your legs back and forth over the pier.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged your shoulders, “You’re not the first person to think that, and weirdly enough, you’re not the first ex to think that either-“

“That’s not what I think,” he insisted, “Nothing about you even suggests that you’re anything like him, behavior or psychological wise. I just wanted to—“ he hesitated for a moment, his jaw clenching, “Hurt you back.”

You tried to smile, still keeping your gaze on the lake as you exhaled the smoke.

“Congratulations professor, you’re pretty good at that.”

A silence fell upon you both as you twirled the cigarette between your fingers.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was so gentle that you turned your head to look at him, “I really am. I never should’ve hit below the belt, not like that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Y/N.”

“No really,” you insisted, “I don’t want to talk about that anymore, I’m just so—“ you closed your eyes for a moment “God, I’m just so tired Spencer. You have no idea how tired I am.”

“I know.”

“And it just doesn’t end,” you murmured and opened your eyes, “Right? I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months now, and everything is getting so out of my control.”

“It will end soon.”

“But we don’t know that,” you insisted as almost a hysterical laugh escaped from your lips, “Do you want to hear the worst part? I don’t think this feeling will ever go away. At this point, I don’t even remember how it feels like not to be afraid.”

He heaved a sigh, then looked over his shoulder when Luke approached you two.

“Sorry guys,” he said, shifting his weight, “But um- Reid, we need you in there.”

“Can’t someone else-“

“Don’t,” you shook your head as you stood up and dusted off your jeans, “Seriously. Besides, the sooner you catch this guy, the sooner…I don’t know, the sooner things go back to normal, whatever that means.”

“You can’t just drive home like this.”

“I’ll drive her,” Luke said, making you turn your head,

“Dude, aren’t you needed here too?”

“I’m going to go back to help out Rossi,” he said, “Not all of the team has to be here, I mean-“ he nodded at Spencer, “We’ve got our genius here, he’s got it covered. I can take the babysitting duty.”

“No pastries for you anymore.”

“I would like to rephrase my statement,” he said quickly, making you smile before you shrugged your shoulders.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

“Y/N-“ Spencer started but you shot him a look.

“I’m fine,” you said, “Go do your Sherlock stuff, professor. Solve the case so that I can start planning weddings again instead of hanging around creepy cabins. I’m just gonna go home and get drunk, so you’ll probably get a voicemail or two from me, just saying.”

“Can’t wait,” Spencer smiled softly and you followed Luke to your car, then handed him the keys and got in the passenger seat. He started the car and you slipped a little in the seat, leaning your knees on the dash.

“How are you holding up?” Luke asked you and you heaved a sigh.

“I feel like I’m in a horror movie to be honest with you,” you muttered, “Who the fuck writes on a wall with blood, I mean like who are you, Michael Myers?”

“I didn’t mean the case,” he stole a look at you and you raised your brows.

“Ah, that,” you said, “Well, I don’t have a bff that sets me up with people in night clubs, so there’s that.”

He hissed in a breath, “Garcia told you.”

“Mm hm,” you looked out of the window, “No hard feelings, don’t worry. I dated lots of frat boys back when I was in college, so I’m very familiar with the bro code.”

“You dated frat boys?” he made a face and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah I started from the bottom and worked my way up to the genius back there.”

He chuckled, “I take it you still haven’t told him you threatened a serial killer because he happened to threaten him?”

“I would’ve done the same for anyone.”

“Bullshit.”

Your jaw dropped, “I let you drive my car and this is the thanks I get, Alvez?”

“Okay trust fund baby, I’m driving you home, you’re not doing me a favor.”

You let out a small laugh, “Eh, I’m not that bad.”

“Your sister threatened a whole police department using lawyers.”

“They had it coming,” you said and he cleared his throat.

“If it makes you feel any better, it was an actual fiasco.”

Your head shot up and you turned to him, “Hm?”

“That whole thing with Reid. He’s not over you.”

“He will be,” you murmured, “Eventually.”

“Do you want to hear why it was a fiasco?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s an exaggeration-“

“He spent the whole night talking about you,” he cut you off and your jaw dropped, “Yeah. More like, she asked him about his job and he mentioned the case, then talked about you and how you couldn’t be the killer for hours. For a second, I thought he’d go up to the DJ booth and start broadcasting from there.”

You could feel the warmth spreading through you, but you nibbled on your lip, trying to ignore it.

“I really hurt him Luke.”

He stole a look at you from the corner of his eye.

“I know,” he said, “That’s pretty clear. I don’t know which one is worse, that you hurt him or that it doesn’t seem to change anything on his part.”

You could feel the burning in your eyes but you slipped a little in your seat and kept your eyes on the road.

“Yeah,” you murmured, “I don’t know which one is worse either.”

                                                   ***

The worst thing about nightmares?

There was no escape from them, and no amount of booze could make them go away.

You woke up to your own scream and leaped out of the bed so fast that you got caught in your sheets and fell on your face, your ears ringing. You could feel the bile burning your throat, so you covered your mouth and rushed to the bathroom to throw up into the toilet, barely aware of the sobs rocking your body. You wiped at your mouth and stood up on shaky legs, then brushed your teeth, still breathing hard.

You were there again, in that graveyard with your father, but this time you couldn’t brush it off as just a nightmare.

It was way too detailed, way too familiar to be a nightmare.

You wiped at your forehead and washed your face with ice cold water, desperate for some sort of a relief and leaned over the sink, closing your eyes for a moment.

“Fuck this shit,” you rasped out to yourself before turning the tap off and raised your glances to look in the mirror.

Well.

You looked exactly like how you felt.

You still didn’t trust your legs but still managed to leave the bathroom, Making your way to your bedroom was more than enough to give you goosebumps, but you snatched your phone off the bedside table. You almost dropped it because of how badly you were trembling with fear, but managed to hold it tighter, found his name in the contacts and took the phone to your ear.

He answered immediately.

“Hello?”

“Spencer, hi,” you said, still taking deep breaths, “I um… I had this- this nightmare and I- I need to talk to you. Can we meet somewhere?”

He hesitated for a moment, “Are you okay? Why are you breathing so fast?”

“Not a panic attack,” you wiped at your nose, “Not yet anyway.”

“Okay, I’m still coming over-“

“No!” you cut him off, then licked your lips, “No I can’t…. I can’t stay here right now, I need to get out of here. Can we please meet somewhere or-or-“

“How about my place?” he asked and you heard the unmistakable clinking of keys, “You can’t drive like that, I’ll come and pick you up, wait there-“

“No I’ll just take a taxi.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll take a taxi, just send me the location,” you told him and hung up, quickly got dressed, got into your coat, then went downstairs when your taxi arrived. You still felt like you could throw up again, but the cool air coming from the open car window helped as the driver started the car after you gave him the location.

There was a beauty in the city at night, especially in chilly nights like these. The small raindrops falling down your face offered some kind of a small comfort while you tried your hardest to ignore the images flashing through your mind, taking a deep breath, letting the cold air fill your lungs. You leaned your head to the open window, closing your eyes and letting the noise of the city drag you out of your own mind.

By the time the taxi pulled over, you were almost lost in your thoughts and only when the driver let you know that you were there you opened your eyes. You paid him, and looked up at the building before making your way inside.

It was almost strange how you hadn’t seen his apartment when you two were dating, but now here you were.

After the break up. At three in the morning.

You wiped at your nose and fixed your hair before you knocked on the door and tried to control your breathing, but that felt way too difficult. As soon as he opened the door, everything you had planned to tell him in your head disappeared and you looked up at him in complete silence for a couple of seconds, you had almost forgotten how he looked when he wasn’t in his work clothes. A warmth filled you, the urge to rush into his arms taking over you but you managed to fight the urge and stepped into the apartment, desperately searching for the right words.

“I had that nightmare, again.” You turned to him as soon as you entered the living room, stumbling over your words, “That graveyard nightmare, but Spencer I think it wasn’t just a dream, I think you were right and it was a memory and there was someone else but I can’t see a face and—“

“Y/N.”

“And I think we were there because of me because it all just connected, we were at that graveyard and he was actually digging a grave and I can remember the face of the victim but not—“

“Sweetheart, breathe.” he approached you in three long steps and his warm hands cupped your cheek so that he could look at you better, “I’m here, I’m listening, okay? Just breathe and tell me. Slowly.”

You swallowed thickly, looking up at him.

“I had that nightmare again,” you managed to say, “But I think that’s a memory.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “How?”

“Because at the graveyard, dad told me something,” you said, “He was- he was digging a grave, and he said, Remember, you’re not supposed to make them bleed if you can’t kill them. And I remembered when that happened, back at the cabin, during the training, I… I untied one of the victims and pretended like he got out of them somehow.”

His hand slipped a little so that he could brush his fingers over your neck, almost soothing you.

“It didn’t work,” you shook your head, “As soon as he got out of the cabin, dad hunted him down and dragged him back into the cabin, he had lost way too much blood to make a run for it. Spencer, that’s a memory, not just a nightmare.”

“There was another person with you? At the graveyard?”

“He took the victim to the graveyard later on, but yes. There was someone, I just…I can’t remember who,” you heaved a shaky breath, “You need to tell the team-“

“We’re already checking the graveyards within the driving distance to the cabin, I told them today.”

You blinked a couple of times, “Did you?”

“Yeah,” he said and his eyes searched your face, “You’re shaking.”

You tried to smile and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, running your thumb over his warm skin, “It’s cold out there.”

You were lying, he knew you were lying and you knew that he knew, but neither of you commented on that. He hesitated for a moment before he pulled you closer to him, letting you bury your face into his chest as he held you tight and you inhaled his scent, closing your eyes.

He was right earlier. This was an addiction.

“Were you sleeping?” you muttered into his chest before you pulled back to look up at him. He scoffed and shook his head.

“No,” he said, “I was working on the case.”

“You really need to sleep.”

“It’s ironic to hear that from you,” he pointed out and that made a smile warm your face.

“Ah but I did sleep,” you said, “I just woke up because of the nightmares. It still counts as sleep.”

“I doubt that,” he said and you turned your head before you started walking around the room.

Spencer’s apartment was more or less what you imagined, to be honest. Contrary to yours, it was darker and obviously older. The wooden desk was covered in papers and books, there was a library by the corner of the room almost stacked to the brim, and overall it reminded you so much of him that just being in his apartment made you feel-

Safer. Better. Calmer.

“Lovely place,” you commented as you approached the library to drag your fingertips over the cracked and old spines of the books and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shift his weight.

“Yeah it’s not- it’s not like yours but I like it.”

“Not like mine?” you looked over your shoulder and he cleared his throat.

“Mm hm.”

“I like it better than mine,” you said and he frowned,

“Why?”

“It looks like someone is actually living here,” you motioned around and he tilted his head.

“Is that a good thing?”

“It is,” you said, “I mean I can see….you in here. I can’t see any part of me in my apartment.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “My mom has this person who designs her houses, she designed my apartment too. It’s pretty but it’s just not me I guess. It’s kind of sad when you think about it.”

He hummed, his eyes watching your every move and you pulled a book from the shelf, holding it up so that he could see the title.

“You don’t strike me as a Petrarch guy,” you tilted your head, “Are you?”

He raised his brows and stole a look at the book in your hand.

“I do not pray, since there is no purpose, that my heart should ever burn less fiercely, but only that she might share part of the fire.” he recited and your jaw dropped before you pouted.

“I hate bluffing with you,” you commented, making him chuckle and you stifled a yawn while turning the book in your hands.

“You can’t work for the whole night if you have a guest.” you gestured at the wooden table and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I won’t if my guest promises she’ll try to sleep.”

“I don’t like this deal.”

“That’s the deal you’re getting,” he said and you clicked your tongue, then walked to the center of the room and sat down on the floor before you lied down.

“I have a bed, you know.”

“I don’t want to get comfortable and fall asleep yet. I want to enjoy this more.”

“Enjoy what? Lying on the floor?”

You shook your head and kept your gaze on the ceiling, the dim light of the apartment and lights from the outside creating shadows there.

“I don’t have that…mind numbing fear right now,” you managed to say “I want to make it last. It’ll come back when I wake up tomorrow, trust me.”

He looked like he wanted to argue with you, then heaved a sigh and sat down on the floor as well, leaning his back to the leather armchair. You tossed him the book and he caught it mid-air, shooting you a quizzical look.

“Read me your favorite,” you said and he smiled slightly.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’ll help me get out of my head, and it might help you….ignore the fact that your night club date was terrible, apparently.”

He raised his brows, “Luke told you?”

You tried to stop your smirk, but it was impossible,

“Yeah he did,” you said and bit inside your cheek for a moment, “Thank you though.”

“For what?”

“For believing in me.”

His gaze on you was gentle, “I wish you would believe in yourself too,” he told you, “You’re not what he tried to turn you into.”

You dragged the tip of your tongue over your lip.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think we should move on?”

He took a deep breath, his brows furrowed in thought.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “We probably should. But do I think we can move on? I don’t think so.”

You nodded slowly, that burning in your eyes getting even worse as he turned the pages until he found what he was looking for, then cleared his throat and started reading.

“I have offered you my heart a thousand times

O my sweet warrior, only to make peace

with your lovely eyes: but it does not please you

with your noble mind, to stoop so low.”

You smiled to yourself, painfully aware of why he picked that one, then closed your eyes, his voice washing over you.

“And if some other lady has hope of it,

she lives in powerless, deceiving hope:

and it can never be what it was to me,

since I too disdain what does not please you.”

Chapter 22

[anika-ann]

In the Strangest Place (We Just Might Find Love) - Pt.2

Type: two-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 2750

Summary: You’re hiding from your boss in a supply closet, minding your own business, when a stranger joins you unexpectedly.

Steve is not entirely a stranger anymore; he knows about your troubles and you know about his. And he’s determined to sort out yours this very moment.

Warnings: mention of sexual harassment, a bit of angst, language, something that might be close to a panic attack if you squint

A/N: There we go... hopefully I’ll make mid-week a bit sweeter for some of you ;)

Part 1

“Alright, kids. Let’s have a trip.”

And you just stared.

…what?

“W-what?” you stuttered, suddenly consumed by the familiar feeling of losing the firm ground under your feet at the idea of trying to confront Gregory head-on. Not even Steve at your side was helping at all as the four of you started walking towards the IT department.

“I-I don’t have any prove! I can’t-- he told me he would--- that he would-”

“That he’d twist it around, convince the HR that you were crushing on him and he turned you down, which turned you into a soulless bitch craving revenge?” the billionaire finished for you and you just uselessly opened you mouth, unable to let out a word to deny it. It seemed to amuse him, because he scoffed; and there was something very bitter in that sound too. “Kid, he’s not the first asshole to take advantage of his superior position. I’ve seen the types. Relax. If Cap here believes you, then so do I. Plus, I know a liar when I see one. And you ain’t lying.”

You breathed in shakily, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest. Could it really be so easy? That couldn’t be right…

“T-thank you, Mr. Stark. I-”

“Yeah, yeah, just name your first kid after me,” Mr. Stark uttered, waving it off.

The Falcon next to you chuckled and you shot Steve a confused gaze. Was that how Mr. Stark usually was? You had never met him in person; you had only ever heard him giving a speech on TV and you knew he had a certain reputation, but this was… different.

You were surprised to find Steve watching you; perhaps he worried about your reaction to such bluntness, since he had seen your outburst in the closet. Upon meeting your gaze – probably shy and undeniably surprised – he charmed a tiny smile for you.

“It’s gonna be okay, see?”

“What are you even worried about? You have three Avengers coming with you!” Mr. Wilson questioned lightly and you bit your lower lip as you thought of the source of anxiety indeed.

Yeah, I have three Avengers and they are all men. Sue me for not being sure which side they would take – not until now.

“You’re not a full-time Avenger, Wilson.”

Falcon gasped, clutching at his chest theatrically at Stark’s remark. “Ouch, Tony. My heart.”

You let out a breathy laugh at their banter and felt yourself relax despite your better judgement. You almost let yourself believe it truly would go alright. Well, as much as dealing with such shitty thing could.

“You’re all my heroes,” you whispered timidly, which earned you a bright smile from Sam Wilson.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Cruel, Birdboy. You stole the old man’s line,” Mr. Stark hummed, amused.

“Heh! Sorry, Cap. But I’m sure you have a whole set of other lines to use on her.”

You choked on your own spit as Steve faltered in his steps, his grip on you growing stronger. What the hell did the Falcon just say?

“Oh my God, Wilson, shut up before we get stuck with another harassment report.”

“I don’t think this a subject for joking,” Steve interjected, slightly irritated, and you shot him a grateful look, because he definitely had a point.

Except… once you weren’t in such a sticky situation, you totally wouldn’t mind Steve Rogers using a line on you. Not at all. And his hand around yours felt nice for multiple reasons, the wordless comfort and support only being one of them. It was warm and slightly calloused, a reminder of his physical work, and it was bigger than yours, so sweetly and distractingly enveloping yours…

But now it was so not the time.

Your peculiar group approached the office and you didn’t even have the time to brace yourself as Tony Stark simply threw the door open, not bothering to knock.

“Thomas Ian Gregory, you are fired this very second,” the billionaire exclaimed dramatically.

You would think he was just being a drama queen, except he sounded deadly serious, using your boss’ full name which he must have read out on the door, and his eyes were throwing daggers at the man sitting behind the desk, looking as if he was the fucking king of the world.

Your boss blinked in surprise and eyed all four of you; Falcon with his arms crossed on his chest, Ironman minus his suit with a murderous glare and a hand raised towards him as if he wanted to point a finger and then Gregory’s gaze fell on your hand connected with Steve’s; you wanted to retrieve it quickly, but Steve wouldn’t let you, his grip growing firm. Anger flashed through your boss’ eyes for a second, before he composed himself and rose from his chair with an innocently confused expression.

You wanted to puke and you felt your legs turning into a shaking mess of jello. This was it. Now he would use his slimy words to turn this situation around and you were about to get fired and humiliated so much that jumping under a bus would be the most likeable option for you.

“Mr. Stark, it’s an honour. Captain Rogers, Mr. Wilson. What do I owe the pleasure?”

You couldn’t believe this--- this pig. Seriously. Who the fuck did he think he was?! How could he--- just lie so easily, pretending that everything was perfectly fine?!

But Tony Stark was not fooled by the charade and you mentally sighed in relief, sure they must have heard the weight falling off of your shoulders even in Jersey.

“I’m sure you heard me, Mr. Gregory. You quit and you’ll be hearing from the HR soon. And you’ll be damn lucky if this young lady right here won’t sue you.”

You honestly wished you were invisible when Gregory’s gaze flickered to you, subtle anger with a promise of consequences in his irises – consequences that would come should you not cut this bullshit right now.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mr. Stark. If this is about the unfortunate feelings my assistant has for me-”

Tears of rage and baseless shame stung in your eyes at his words and you breathed in sharply to defend yourself; before you could, Gregory continued.

“Though I can see they weren’t very… honest. Obviously my inferior seems to be the ‘love them and leave them’ type, which I should warn you about, Capta-”

Breathless at his malicious made-out theories, you did not expect Steve to drop your hand in favour to tower over your boss, making him shut up with one single glare.

Alright, you could see why he had thought that simply appearing at your office would make Gregory tremble in fear. Your boss actually backed off and learnt onto a table, looking as if he was supporting himself under the weight of Steve’s judgement.

“I met this woman for the first time not half an hour ago, hiding from you, too scared of your dirty hands to return to her own workplace. Trust me, it left an impression, just like you are leaving one now,” Steve grunted menacingly, causing your heart to pound in your chest in fright even with his words not aimed on you. “If I can give an advice, you pack your things as fast as you can, apologize to her profusely, begging for her forgiveness and you don’t set a foot in this building or speak to her ever again. Do we have an understanding?”

You weren’t the only one affected. Your boss tried to reciprocate Captain America’s glare, but he failed miserably. He visibly gulped and circled his desk, still watching the soldier as if he was expecting to get hit; then his eyes just dropped to his desk and he frantically started picking random things from it.

You watched the scene in front of you, paralyzed. Your heart was beating its way out of your chest, pulsing in your temples, your breathing alternating between hitching and picking up. Your vision started to swim.

Holy. Shit.

“Cap, I think you broke her.”

Steve spun to you at instant, his eyes roaming your face; or you thought so. He looked worried now; or you thought so. Thinking and frankly evaluating the stimuli your senses were receiving was a bit difficult at the moment.

What the hell had just happened?

Gentle hands took yours, leading you out of the room. You blindly followed, unsure how to put one foot in front of the other, your body running on autopilot.

It was over. Thomas Gregory was no longer your boss and it had happened without you losing your job. And Steve Rogers had scolded him as if he was a five-year old kid – a very pervert one, but a kid nonetheless. Steve put a fucking fear of God into him. All of that happening within three minutes. And you just… couldn’t quite process all that.

You barely registered getting into and out of an elevator, being seated on a couch, having a blanket tossed over your shoulders and a cup of warm liquid pressed into your hands. You automatically brought it to your lips, only to be stopped by a tender fingers curling around your wrist.

“Careful. It might be too hot,” a pleasant voice warned you and you blinked, finally focusing your gaze, finding rather worried and very handsome face staring back.

You glanced at the cup, surprised to identify the drink as Steve’s hand let go of yours.

“Is that… is that hot chocolate?” you stuttered, bewildered. Well, more like… astonished.

“Yeah. You’re not allergic to milk or anything, are you?”

You looked up back to Steve’s face, only to find him with his brows furrowed in concern, lips thoughtfully pursed. It snapped you to action.

“No! No. It’s just… I didn’t have one in years. Thank— thank you.”

His expression cleared, as he was evidently pleased with himself. “Good. You’re welcome.”

The words fell off his lips so easily. As if he just hadn’t… hadn’t saved your career. Or your mental health, really.

You eyed the table by the couch, setting the cup down, only to fully turn to him. He seemed a bit confused at that; but God, you had something important to say and since you didn’t want to give up the blanket just yet, you decided to get rid of the mug at least to look less pathetic.

“No, Steve, I… thank you,” you whispered sincerely, feeling tears in your eyes for like a millionth time that day. His smile widened a little.

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry if I… if I scared you down there. It wasn’t meant for you.”

“You didn’t-” you blurted out in attempt to deny it and make him feel better, only to waver as his eyebrow rose, picture perfect of doubt. It made you chuckle at yourself self-deprecatingly. “It’s not your fault that I was… surprised by your little hulk-out. I guess I just didn’t see it coming.”

“Hulk-out, huh? How do you feel?”

You shrugged, exhaling slowly, thinking hard about your answer.

“Like I just watched my life take a way better turn that I would expect... and I’m still only watching,” you whispered honestly, which led to his face twisting in a grimace.

“Anything I can do?”

You couldn’t help it; you scanned your surroundings, realizing you were in something that looked fancy enough to belong to Tony Stark and was way too big to be part of an actual apartment. You ran your hand down the blanket covering your shoulders, reaching for the abandoned cup to blow on it softly and take a careful sip of chocolate. Steve’s questioning gaze observed you while you did so and you smiled blissfully into the cup as the delicious rich taste caressed your tongue.

“You mean besides comforting me despite being a complete stranger, getting my harassing boss fired and scaring the hell out of him, taking me to--- here, giving me a blanket and making the best cup of hot chocolate I had in years? Give me a second, I’m sure I’ll figure out something else,” you babbled and Steve’s smile grew, tense shoulders relaxing. “Seriously, Steve. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I owe you. I- I know you’re a hero and all that, but… yeah. I should be asking you what I could do for you in return.”

“That’s not-- I’m not--- ...you make a pleasant company,” he said in the end as if he realized he couldn't deny any of the things you had listed. You lowered your gaze to the chocolate as his eyes twinkled at the statement.

“Ditto.”

“Does that-” he blurted out and you tilted your head to side, watching him curiously when he stopped talking just as abruptly. “This is a terrible timing, but that’s apparently an infamous quality of mine, because usually I wait too long, and… uhm…”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suddenly embarrassed soldier scratching the back of his neck, peeking at your through his eyelashes. Was that--- was he trying to-? No, it couldn’t be.

“Yeah?” you softly encouraged him to continue.

He wetted his lips, causing your previously tight gut to warm up.

“I understand that it’s the last thing you’re thinking about right now, but… when you settle down again... and things are a bit calmer for you… would you- uhm,  like to… maybe spend some more time with--- with me?”

If he had blurted the sentence in one go, you would have dropped your mug in surprise despite suspecting this incredible thing when he had turned bashful. But he didn’t so your brain had enough time to process the words slowly leaving his lips, one after another, little shy, little hopeful. Your heart was speeding up with each of them, ready to burst when he finished with a tiny nervous smile.

Well. How could you possibly say no to that irresistible creature in front of you? You smiled into your drink.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

His face lit up. “Really?”

You wanted to chuckle at the pure surprise on his face, but it was just too endearing and so you had to fight the urge to make an embarrassing sound like an aww instead.

“Yeah, Steve. I’d really like that,” you repeated, hiding the teasing note in your voice. “But you’ve got to teach me how to make a chocolate that good, because seriously, it tastes amazing.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” you demanded, a bit hurt, rather surprised. “I don’t want you to give up your secret recipe right away! Just… in time.”

He grinned at you boyishly, leaning a bit closer to you. You held your breath in anticipating, a the change. “I could. But then I wouldn’t get to enjoy the process of preparing it for you and your smile in return.”

You stared at him for few moments, taking the statement in, wondering if he was teasing you or was being serious. The corners of his lips were quirked up as if he was indeed joking, but there was a certain spark of honesty in his eyes.

You decided to play along, whether it was a game or not. Perhaps it was the relief of newly found freedom from a sleazy man in your life that plucked up your courage and woke up your jovial side.

“Aww, Steve, that’s so sweet. Is that your way of telling me you’re planning on spoiling me? Because then I would need significantly less time to… settle down.”

His grin widened at your words. “Is that so?”

“Mm.”

“Well then…” he brought up lowly, torturing you with anticipation when he didn’t continue, only to watch you with a mischievous smile.

“...then?”

“What are your plans for Friday evening?”

Oh, you were so glad you were sitting, because otherwise the force of the moment in which Steve Rogers asked you out on Friday night would knock you down.

You tried to think of an answer that wouldn’t sound like an over-enthusiastic YES, but his blue eyes staring into yours made it very difficult for you.

Dammit, it was harder to talk to him when you could actually see--- you smiled smugly at the idea that popped up in your head and raised an eyebrow in silent challenge.

“I’m hiding in a supply closet. Why, you wanna join me?”

Steve burst out laughing, throwing his head back with that sound and the picture armed your heart so thoroughly it was unfair.

“Sure thing. Would you like me to bring muffins and coffee or do you prefer an actual dinner?”

You found yourself laughing too and you suddenly believed that your life would indeed get better. It already had, after all.

S.R. masterlist

Beautiful divider by @whimsicalrogers 

Thank you for the kind feedback on the first part and I hope you liked this one too :))

Thank you for reading!

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Hey, Little Songbird

Chapter 16 - Ao3

Felix could only hope his mother would pardon him for thinking such harsh words, but he felt as though the situation merited it. Because this? Was bullshit.

He could understand, to a degree, where Marinette was coming from. Felix wasn’t a good person; ergo, put Felix in situations where he would be forced to do good to make him confront the benefits of kindness and charity and hugging snot-nosed orphans or whatnot. He could understand becoming a force for good; his family had the money and the influence to improve the live of the less fortunate, and he’d understood that ever since his mother enlisted his help with choosing Graham Films annual donations. He could stand losing some of his own money just to hear Marinette gush about the charity he chose, and how that money would be used (all information he knew, of course; you don’t donate without knowing exactly where your money is going).

What he could not stand is having all his time with Marinette interrupted by Cesaire.

Marinette’s reasoning was that she wanted her two friends to get along, but Felix suspected she just liked to see him suffer. Sure, he did Cesaire a favor once, that doesn’t mean they like each other! In fact, he would go out on a limb and say that Cesaire definitely hated him. Why? …He wasn’t sure. If it had been a few weeks ago, he would have said she was jealous he had been Marinette’s friend while she had been led astray, but now that he’d gotten to—bleck—know Cesaire, he was certain it wasn’t in the girl’s character.

He took the opportunity to ask Cesaire the next time Marinette forced them to work together on a project—this time, cleaning up the content of the Ladyblog. Apparently Felix’s demeanor would help push the blog in a more professional direction.

Cesaire’s fingers paused on the keyboard at his question. Even Marinette, who had been working on a separate project, stopped to listen in. “I don’t hate you,” she lied.

“Yes, you do,” Felix corrected. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, before your near suspension and after. You hate me, and I’d like to know why.”

“Felix, she doesn’t hate you—” Marinette tried, but Cesaire stopped her.

“Marinette, I appreciate you trying to mediate, but you don’t have to right now”—She flashed a smile at Marinette—“Felix, I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you.”

“Okay. Why?”

She drew back, shock crossing her face before she shut the emotion down. “Felix, the first time we met, I was an akuma. An akuma you caused. I still don’t know why you impersonated Adrien, but since you supported Marinette when I didn’t, I’m willing to tolerate you despite that.”

Oh. “I had forgotten that,” he admitted, looking away.

“You… forgot?” She didn’t believe him, it was clear in her voice.

“Yes. I was having quite the bad day myself.”

Cesaire looked ready to say something, but Marinette placed a hand on her shoulder. “Felix, I’ve been meaning to ask you… Why did you impersonate Adrien that day? Knowing you now… it doesn’t seem like something you would do without a reason.”

Felix pursed his lips. True, what he did that day had been… poorly thought out. He would even say that he’d acted rashly, but to be honest, he had planned it from the beginning. The entire time his father was on his death bed, the entire time Felix watched him die, Adrien was calling and emailing him, talking about his friends and modeling and school like Felix hadn’t begged him and Uncle Gabriel to come over and visit, to support them in their time of need like his family had done when Aunt Emilie went missing. Perhaps it was cruel that he and Mother tried to take back their family rings on the anniversary of Aunt Emilie’s disappearance, but it was cruel that they didn’t come to his father’s funeral because… because of a fashion show!

So Felix told them. Despite himself, he told the girls about his father and how much he loved him, and how it broke his heart to see the strongest man he’d ever met waste away in front of his eyes. How his mother cried for months as she sat at his bedside. How their company suffered with the CEO dying and his mother beside herself with grief, how Felix was forced to delegate power to those loyal to his father and their family, trying to keep their business afloat and still in their name.

“Adrien… is very cruel in his ignorance,” Felix said. “He’s more than happy to ignore other people’s problems until they affect him, then he’ll do whatever he can to solve the problem. And I… wanted him to be affected.” He shook his head, picking at Marinette’s bedspread. “I thought that if I caused him to lose all his friends… Well, that plan backfired, so there’s no need to go into detail. I should feel lucky that I got at least one of the rings back.”

“Rings?”

Felix showed off the one he’d stolen from Gabriel, the silver band glinting in the sunlight. The metal seemed to hum against the warmth of his fingers. “The wedding bands of Gabriel and Emilie Agreste were originally family heirlooms of the Graham de Vanily estate. Originally, they were supposed to be used when the eldest child, my mother, got married. Unfortunately, that was impossible.”

“Wait, your mom is a Graham de Vanily?” Cesaire asked. “So, your dad married into the family?”

“That’s correct; Grandfather arranged it back when Father was a mere director in our company.” Felix shook his head. “Mother and Father were supposed to wear these on their wedding day. But Aunt Emilie stole them for her own marriage.”

Marinette gasped. “No! Why would she do that!?”

“I have no idea; if Aunt Emilie ever said why, Mother certainly has never mentioned it. My grandparents disowned her for the theft—though, to be honest, they were already on the edge because Aunt Emilie was marrying someone they didn’t approve of—and it was only Mother’s intervention that kept them from reporting her to the police.” He twisted the ring around his finger. “These rings mean a lot to my family, to my mother… I know it hurt her that she and Father never wore them, even if Father created near replicas for their 3rd anniversary. She never wore hers though… I think she thought that if she did, it would be acknowledging that the rings would never come home.”

“What’s so special about these rings, anyway?” Cesaire asked, moving closer to look at, but thankfully not touch, his ring. “It’s plain silver.”

“Honestly, I have no idea. They’ve been in the family for centuries, and Mother said that you could only understand how precious they are until you and your love both wear them, but…”

“It’s not the value of the rings,” Marinette finished. “It’s what they represent.”

“Precisely. Aunt Emilie stole them to begin with. Now that she’s gone—and honestly, I’m not entirely convinced she didn’t just leave Uncle Gabriel—the rings should come home, no matter how sentimental Uncle is about them. He has made it very clear that he doesn’t consider us family, so there’s no need to keep family heirlooms.” Felix clenched his fist. “I already stole one of the rings; I can steal the other one too.”

Marinette was shaken, but Cesaire immediately nodded her head in agreement. “Go for it.”

“Alya!”

“What? If they were stolen to begin with, then there’s no problem with him stealing them back. Besides, it’s not like Gabriel can report him to the police. There is evidence that the rings were originally your family’s, right? Like, pictures of your grandparents wearing them, or even official documentation?”

Huh. It seems Cesaire is more than she first appeared. “That’s correct, we have both.”

“Then he can’t do much. At worst, he can try to pass them off as a different set of jewelry since the ring is so generic, but that would just draw out the investigation and bring more evidence against him to light. Even claiming that you were the one to steal the ring could be difficult to prove unless he got it on camera.” She frowned. “Getting to the other ring will be difficult though, since Gabriel will likely protect it.”

“Plus, if he knows you stole it, he’s not going to let you into the house,” agreed Marinette. Both he and Cesaire exchanged at look at her abetting. “What? You act like I’ve never stolen anything before!”

“But you… haven’t?”

A cat-like grin stretched across Cesaire’s face. “Oh? She hasn’t told you that story yet?”

A groan. “Alya, no!”

A smirk twitched across his lips despite himself. Perhaps working with Cesaire wouldn’t be so bad after all…

Taglist: @graduatedmelon @novicevoice @dur55 @kris-pines04 @18-fandoms-unite-08 @moonlightstar64 @bee-a-garbage-shipper @sol-o-shade @kittyotakunoir666 @tinyterror333 @allieoftheenemy @marichat00 @xgxmxtx @two-faced-biatch @feliciakainzofspades @evil-cricket @emilytopaz @spicybelladonna @chocolateherringtacofan @user00000003 @wannajointhecrabcult @happymonster-pants @duquesapincarrasca @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen  @sxltinette @kittydemon9000 @thetrashypanda423

[joheun-saram]

The Back of Your Car (myg)

Summary- How would you deal if you were stuck in the trunk of your best friend’s car with your new crush?

word count- 3.3k

pairing- undergroundrapper!yoongi x recentgraduate!reader

rating- R

genre- fluff, smut(ish?), friends2lovers, collegeau

warnings- nothing too bad, just making out and dry humping to orgasm lol, oh and swearing.

a.n- my first Yoongi fic? Yes sirrrrrrr. I be simping for this man all day everyday. Also, yes the premise is dumb but also who doesn’t wanna be locked in a trunk with Yoongi. Just me? Okay. Coolcoolcool.

This was written for the ‘A Long Hot Summer’ project by @thebtswritersclub​. The member I picked was Yoongi and the sense I chose was touch, because when you can’t see you can only feel. 👀  Hope you like it!

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

gif is not mine! :)

----------

“Really guys? Really?” You sighed as you stared at the small trunk of Jin’s sedan. You were so done with your friends. The audacity of them to ask you to jump into the trunk for the two-hour-long ride. 

“What? We cleared all the junk for you! Plus it’s not like you’ll be alone.” Namjoon stated matter-of-factly, his hands on his hips.

Your friends had been planning this week-long trip to Jin’s cottage for the past month as the last hurrah before everyone really started working in the real world, and somehow everyone had missed the fact that two cars would not be enough for your group of ten and all your belongings.

You had been friends with most of them since at least the start of university, over five years ago, but you’d be lying if you said they still didn’t annoy you at times. Well, you had been friends with everyone except Min Yoongi, the person you were being forced to now share this tiny trunk with.

“Why can’t Jungkook and I share the trunk?” You looked pleadingly at your closest friend. Jungkook and you had been friends since childhood and his bunny smile was present in almost all your pictures. Although you had been introduced when he and your younger brother became friends in fifth grade, it soon became evident that he and you were a better friendship fit as after middle school his appearances at your house soon turned from gaming with your brother to watching movies and arguing over anime in your bedroom. He had seen you madly in love with your first boyfriend and then seen you ugly cry, wasted at 2 am after your first breakup. Whereas, you had been there to buy him a cake and blast Lonely Island in his dorm when he lost his virginity in his freshman year of university. Jungkook was comfortable, Jungkook was easy. Plus, your habit of platonic cuddles made you far more comfortable spooning him for two hours than the mysterious Yoongi, who you met four months ago and may or may not be harboring a massive crush on.

“Noona, I can barely fit in there alone! You and hyung are the smallest of the group. It just makes sense!” Jungkook looked proud of his logic, patting your head smugly as you glared at him. You hated that he was now the muscle-bound version of the scrawny kid you used to know but more so you hated that he was entirely justified in his logic.

“But what if we get rear-ended? I will die! Do you want me to die?!” You were exasperated as you stared at the group with wide eyes. This was not how you imagined the end of your summer before the real world to be - with Hosoek’s car filled with all your supplies, taking up most of the backseat, leading to your dilemma. Who had thought it was a good idea to bring an icebox that won’t fit in the trunk? Well, none other than the host, Jin, who insists his steaks needed ample room to breathe in the ice for the ride up to the woods.

“You can get in first, so if we get rear-ended my death will cushion you,” Yoongi spoke softly, looking at you as you blinked dumbfoundedly at him. Although you were sure this was part of his dark humor, you felt a flush creep up your neck at his attempt to dissuade your worries.

Yoongi was introduced to your friends through Namjoon. Your tightly knit group of friends barely talked to anyone else but Namjoon was the social butterfly, always at parties or networking for his Soundcloud growth. He was an amazing rapper, selling out most small clubs he performed at. That’s where he had met Yoongi, befriending him when they performed together, and slowly integrating him into your clan. At first, it didn’t seem like his quiet, introspective persona would fit in your group’s dynamic, what with Jimin and Taehyung’s constant platonic PDA, Hoseok and Namjoon’s rap battles, and Jin, Jungkook and your bickering, but he seemed to have found a groove, seamlessly integrating himself. His deadpan comments whenever Jimin and Taehyung got too much, his addition to the rap battles, and his role as a mediator over your arguments had slowly made Yoongi a solid part of your dynamic in a short amount of time. Even Namjoon and Jin’s girlfriends who had been a part of the crew for over one and two years, respectively, hadn’t gelled in this fast, still feeling like they were eight-wheeling a giant polyamorous group.

“Umm… thanks? But that’s not the point. We shouldn’t have to ride in the trunk because Jin’s precious icebox stole the seat!” You tried to play it cool, ignoring the amused smirk that Jungkook threw your way as he spied your face heating up. He was all too aware of your crush and would take every opportunity to make you feel awkward around Yoongi.

“Okay tell you what. If you guys ride in the back, we’ll give you guys the best room in the house. First pick and everything,” Jin negotiated, clearly annoyed at the situation and wanting to get on the road.

“Alright. One more condition though. You all are buying mine and Yoongi’s drinks for the whole trip.” You acquiesce, because to be honest the master bedroom at Jin’s cottage was the most coveted spot, usually not even up for discussion. It boasted a king bed with the softest mattress imaginable, not to mention the ensuite bathroom consisting of a jacuzzi. You were beyond excited to snag that baby to yourself for the week. Plus, with your alcohol tolerance being among the highest of the group, you were excited not to drop any money on alcohol.

With hums and cheers of agreement, the party started moving along. You climbed in Jin’s trunk first, opting to face Yoongi rather than spoon him awkwardly. He climbed in with much less resistance than you, curling up as far as he could. Space, however, was smaller than you had anticipated and in this position, even though you both crossed your arms, your knees and arm were touching. You were happy when Namjoon abruptly shut the top, engulfing you both in darkness since it hid how red your face had become at the proximity. Your skin felt like it was on fire where it touched his, your heart speeding. You wondered if he could hear it and if it was healthy if it kept this pace for the next two hours.

Surprisingly you could barely hear what was happening in the car, voices coming through in muffled and music barely audible, drowned by the hum of the engine that roared through as the car started moving, slowly jostling you.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked tentatively after a few minutes. “You seemed a bit nervous about getting in.”

“Yeah, it’s just a little claustrophobic.” You weren’t lying, although it felt more so because of your feelings for Yoongi. Although you routinely hang out with him and your friends, practically every day this summer, if you were really counting, you had never once hung out with him alone. Even when he requested to record your vocals for one of his songs, Namjoon had been there. Now just sitting with him alone you felt extremely awkward, unable to deal with your feelings.

“Here, let me turn my flashlight on,” he said as he dug around for his phone in his pocket, one of his calves now between yours. “I heard that light can help with that.”

You were suddenly blinded as he turned on his flashlight. As your eyes adjusted to the onslaught of photons, you saw Yoongi’s face, much closer than you had thought it’d be. Although you had found him attractive since the first time you met him, you had never seen him this close. His cheeks were squished by his shoulder, his long black bangs swept haphazardly across his forehead as his lips pursed in a little pout. You didn’t think you could find him more attractive but he took your breath away. You don’t know how long you just stared at him but your trance was broken as you saw his lips move, registering what he was saying far more slowly than usual.

“I’m sorry you’re in here with me. I’m not the best company, I know.” He averted his gaze opting to look above him.

“What? Why would you say that?”

“I don't know. You wanted to be in here with Jungkook. I understand though, he’s much nicer than I am.” Your heart fell at that. You didn’t think he would be bothered by your insistence to be with Jungkook and you were starting to feel guilty.

“I only said that because I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“You don’t have to say that. It’s fine I get it. You don’t really like me.” He looked into your eyes, trying to search for any dishonesty.

“Of course I like you. What?”

“Oh? It’s just that you never talk to me.” Oh if only he knew the reason why you never talked to him was that you were scared you were going to stumble over your words and make a fool out of yourself.

“I… You never talk to me either!” You tried to move further away from him so he couldn’t make out the flush that was creeping up with your neck, finding you had nowhere else to move to. 

“I always try to talk to you. You either answer in one word or just walk away.” Yoongi didn’t know why he was being so insistent but he needed to know. He had found you interesting the moment he met you. Every joke you made had made him laugh and he would be lying if he didn’t listen to the vocals you recorded for him almost daily. “It’s okay… I’m sorry. You just make me nervous.”

“Me? I make you nervous?” You tried to control the giggle that arose at his comment but were unsuccessful. Why would you make Yoongi of all people nervous? 

“You’re intimidating!” He laughed, smiling at you.

“Sure… Whatever you say Yoongi.”

Soon your conversation moved to a comfortable one, sharing anecdotes about your friends and laughing over their antics. You hadn’t realized how easy it would be to talk to him once you were over your nerves. You hadn’t even thought about the constant voice in your head that made you spaz every time you saw him. However, that was short-lived as suddenly, you were thrown into the darkness, the light from Yoongi’s phone cutting off.

“Ah. Sorry. I think my phone’s dead.” He reaches between you to tap his phone to no avail, his fingertips lightly brushing your skin, making your skin tingle and reminding you again why you were nervous.

“It’s okay.” You don’t know why you whispered, but somehow the dark changed the entire atmosphere - your nerves kicking into high gear again. You could feel the hum of the car, each little bump on the road overtly noticeable. If you didn’t know any better you’d say you could feel his breath on your face. Yoongi felt it too -  the comfort dissipating into tension, making his heart beat faster.

“Careful!” He hisses as the car hits an exceptionally big bump, his hand instinctively reaching out to hold your head to ensure you don’t hit it at the back, while his other goes to your waist to pull you closer. In the cramped space, there was nowhere to go and you could feel your skin heating up where he touched you, sending sparks down your spine.

The air seemed to have thickened between you - the jokes of earlier fading away to make room for whatever this tension was as your heart pounded in your chest, his breath now definitely on your face. Suddenly there’s another bump, and Yoongi takes the opportunity to pull you closer, his jean-clad leg moving further between your bare ones. You suddenly realize how close this leg is to your core, and a slight whimper escapes your lips. His eyes go wide. There’s no way that sound was for him, was it? Regardless of all the times he had dreamt of having you in his arms, surely his mind was playing tricks on him. There was no way you were actually into him like he was into you.

“Y/N…” he says softly as he tries to unsuccessfully make out your eyes in the dark. You feel your face flush as you realize that you didn’t imagine the whimper, you actually made that noise, out loud. Panicking you rack your brain for an excuse, but all you can do is say his name, speaking it breathlessly into the small space.

He feels his heart accelerate when he hears his name from your lips. If he didn’t know any better he would think it almost sounded like a plea. It’s taking all his willpower not to crash his lips against yours, to hear more of your whimpers. Before he can get too lost in his thoughts another bump on the road sends you forward, your hands fisting in his shirt, faces only a hair length apart.

You don’t know who leaned in first but soon your lips are against each other. He feels your soft lips on him and it’s like he’s in a trance. The dark seems to have heightened his senses and it's like he can feel every single movement tenfold. You move your hands from his shirt to the nape of his neck, wanting him closer and it seems that he wants the same as his hand moves from your waist to your hips, pulling you closer.

You feel his tongue on your lips and you oblige, feeling sparks of electricity flow through you as you taste him. He tastes like mint and coffee, a combination that you would have found abhorrent except right now it felt like the sweetest nectar. The kiss is desperate like if you stopped the other would disappear, and it leaves you panting. 

In between kisses, Yoongi grabs your ass, groping it and making you moan in his mouth. A smile makes its way across his face as he relishes your sounds. He can’t believe this is happening. He kisses down your jaw to your neck, wanting to taste every bit of you.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since I first saw you.” You pant in between moans as he sucks on the sensitive juncture where your neck meets your shoulders, the dark igniting a boldness in you. Hearing you say that makes him stop. He wishes he could see your face to see if you were joking, but before he can get too much in his head, he hears you whine his name.

“Me too. Fuck.” He says as he continues kissing your neck as he starts moving your hips, making you grind against him. Even through layers of clothing the friction from his thigh on your clit is palpable, making your breath hitch, your hand holding on to his sleeve at the shoulder. “Is this okay?” 

You can only moan in response as he abandons your hips now that you found a rhythm and moves his hand up towards your chest, moving it under the hem of your shirt. Your skin is deliciously soft as he strokes your stomach gently before he moves to your back in search of a clasp, only to find none. You weren’t wearing a bra and that only made him harder as he cupped your chest, feeling your nipples under his thumb as he grazed over them. The sensation was unbelievable, making you soak your panties, it was like his hands were barely there, making you arch your back, chasing his touch. You could feel your orgasm building as you felt the tension in your stomach build. He had barely even touched you and you felt like you were going to lose your mind. Each sensation felt new. You finally understood what Madonna was talking about in that song.

You pulled his face close to you mewling a “please” against his lips as you crashed your lips against them. You melt into him, the passionate kiss igniting more pleasure in both of you.

“Are you going to cum baby?” He asks, his breath mingling with your pants, the nickname warming your heart, as he pulls your head back gently by your hair, giving him more access to your neck, sucking and kissing, driving you closer to the edge. “Go ahead. Cum on my leg baby.”

The pressure inside you grows as you grind faster, the friction against your clit simultaneously too much and too little. He finally increases the pressure on your nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he ravishes your mouth with a deep kiss, making you come undone. Your legs shake, your hands grabbing at his shirt and hair, walls clenching around nothing as you cum. 

“Fuck. Yoongi” you whine as you come down from your high, his lips still on your neck, your panties sticking to you.

“God. You’re so hot.” Your moans are still ricocheting through his mind as he takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers and kissing the top of it. Even though he didn’t get any relief and his boner still painfully lies against his tight jeans, he doesn’t mind, enjoying your scent as he nuzzles your neck.

“Yoongi, I have to tell you something.” He wishes he could see you. The way you began your sentence makes his heart ache in anticipation as you pause longer. “I like you.”

“I’m glad you don’t kiss people you hate like this.” Yoongi is elated, pulling you in for another kiss, different this time. It’s gentle and he wants to put all the emotions he’s been feeling in it. He wants to show you he likes you just the same, if not more. You pull him closer as you return the kiss, mirroring his tenderness.

“No, I mean I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” It makes his heart race. He can’t believe how lucky he is.

“I’ve been dreaming about you since I met you, do you think I’m going to let you go now?” He chuckles as he kisses your forehead and here cramped in the back of Jin’s car you think you’ve found heaven. “We should really thank Jin and his obsession with steaks, eh?”

You laugh as you feel the car come to a stop, giddy with endorphins, your four-month crush finally coming to fruition. The sunlight is bright when the guys open the trunk, blinding you momentarily before your eyes focus to see Yoongi smile at you, wide with his gums on display. It makes you giggle like a lovestruck teenager when he tucks your hair behind your ear. To Yoongi at that moment, you’re the most beautiful person he’s met. He climbs out of the car, helping you out as well.

“What the fuck? Did you guys make out in the back of my car?” Jin yells as he looks at the two of you and both of you go red at being caught.

“Umm… no. Why would you say that?” You avert your gaze from the broad-shouldered man bashfully as he looks at the two of you wide-eyed.

“Noona, hyung has your lipstick all over his face.” Jungkook supplies, a cocky smirk on his face, and that’s when you register Yoongi’s lips and jaw painted your signature red, making you laugh uncontrollably.

“Whatever. It looks good on me.” Yoongi says with a drawl and an eye roll as he holds your hand in his. “Let’s just go to the cottage, okay?”

He leads the group, your fingers intertwined. That week you make sure to take advantage of the room you both won. The jacuzzi does wonders to heal your soreness from your adventures in the king-sized bed, much to the chagrin of Hoseok who had the unfortunate luck of sleeping in the room next door.

[jooniyah]

Poison Apple : The Second

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem Reader ; Min Yoongi x Fem Reader

AU: Yandere!au, Moneylender!Taehyung

Genre: Angst, Mature, Smut rated R

Warnings: NON CON, Hard Yandere behavior, kidnapping, implied forced pregnancy, emotional abuse, violence, blackmail, character death, voluntary starvation, degradation and physical abuse, slapping, cum play, manipulation, profanity, smut, blood, knives, guns, assassins, and murder.

Word count: 22.91 K

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions of the characters in this fiction. This is to be treated as pure fantasy, and should not be misconstrued to be demeaning the idols in any way. If any of the above warnings cause you discomfort, kindly refrain from reading.

This is a non-consensual setting, please proceed only if you are not triggered by the warnings. All warnings for Chapter 1 apply. I repeat, please be sure to read all the warnings carefully.

Author’s note:  This is the second chapter of the Poison Apple Trilogy. Please make sure to read Part 1 before proceeding. 

Chapter 1   |    Chapter 2 

The man clad in black adjusted the scope of his M107 rifle, making sure his reticle was in perfect position. As he waited for his target, he did a quick sweep of the terraces of the adjacent buildings. No one was about. A faint slippery sheen of dew covered the cracked floors of the terrace he was positioned on. Any time now. He looked at the neon digits glowing on his watch.

Overhead, his skilled ears could pick out the droning of an approaching airplane. His skin felt clammy, possibly due to the side effect of his beta-blockers. Well, he’d finish the job and go have a well-earned vacation. Cold hands weren’t a big side effect, not when his pills gave him razor-sharp precision at shooting. The gangway of the cruise liner was slowly opened to allow passengers on board. The time had come.

He carefully combed his eyes through the influx of passengers, seeking the one face he was looking for. He didn’t even need to take the photo out of his pocket. He had committed the face to memory. And no disguise could fool him, he was ready for everything the target might try to pull off.

Time ticked on. People were walking on the gangway, boarding the ship, waving to their loved ones. But the target was not to be found anywhere. The described person hadn’t arrived, and the sniper had assumed that he could catch the target on the gangway. But as his professional eyes raked through the humans on board, he knew he was wasting his time. He remained in position, watching on as the ship sounded the final horn before gliding smoothly out onto the sea. He dialed the only number on his burner phone.

“Yes?” The tone sounded shrill and eager.

“A no-show. I repeat, it was a no-show.”

“What? Are you sure you didn’t miss-“?

“I never miss a target.”

There was a deep frustrated sigh.

“Fine. Abort and return.”

The sniper proceeded to pack up his gear and prepared to leave.

On the other end of the line, the figure exhaled sharply, muttering curses and bemoaning the failure. Just then, a dark outline materialized in the doorway, causing the figure to jump up, body numb with defeat.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I won’t repeat my question again, Mrs.Min.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Then, answer me.”

You remained motionless, staring at the hard-grey table, fingers interweaved.

“Well?” The officer raised his voice, rapping on the table.

“I told you the truth.”

The man scoffed, leaning back in his chair.

“Listen, lady. You know your story sounds shit stupid, right?”

Your voice broke into a whisper.

“But it is true.”

He rolled his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“Mr. Kim killed your husband? For you? He’s obsessed with you?”

“Yes.”

“You are giving yourself way too much credit, lady.”

You gritted your teeth, refusing to look at him. He clicked his tongue.

“Well, if your absurd story is true, where is your husband’s body?”

“I don’t know.”

He tsked under his breath. “So what proof do you have to tie Mr.Kim to this alleged murder?”

“None.”

He got up abruptly, shaking his head in irritation. He pointed a finger at you.

“You’re wasting my time. And for the record, Mr.Kim has been nothing but helpful in this investigation.”

You slowly raised your head. “What? What did he say?”

“Do you good to hear it and weave another absurd story, wouldn’t it?”

You watched him hesitate at the door, his hand resting on the handle. “If you are so innocent, Mrs. Min, why didn’t you report your husband missing?”

An angry fuse went off in your brain.

“Why would I report him missing, if he was already dead?”

“Can you afford an attorney, Mrs.Min?”

“I-What?”

The officer stared at you, pursed his lips, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The court-appointed attorney was a tall, curvy woman in her early thirties. She looked calm and had an air of high maintenance about her. You wondered how she could have accepted to defend you. Maybe the woman did pro-bono work. She probably had rich clients. Rich. You were once rich. When Yoongi was alive. Yoongi. A bitter feeling coursed through your heart.

Another detective accompanied the officer who had previously interrogated you. They settled across you and the attorney, scraping chairs on the floor as they took their seats.

“Well, Mrs. Min,” the officer began, “we understand you have mortgaged all your property.”

“Yes.”

“So, what happened to the money?” The officer flicked through papers on a clipboard. “50 million dollars, wasn’t it?”

The second detective pushed himself forward. “More importantly, where is your husband?”

A dull throb started in your temples and seared across your skull. You could shout yourself hoarse that Yoongi was dead, but none of these people would believe you.

When he received no reply, the detective persisted.

“You got rid of him because you wanted the money to yourself, didn’t you?”

The attorney interjected in a harsh tone.

“My client will not answer that.”

“You hid the money someplace, so you could go and retrieve it later.”

“Officer, you will not harass my client like this.”

“I won’t, if she agrees to speak the truth.”

The woman turned to you; harsh impatience evident on the curl of her lips.

“Not a word, Y/N.”

You nodded weakly. You had told everything to the cops already. No one believed in you, not one soul believed that Kim Taehyung murdered Min Yoongi to obtain you. It was nightmarish to go on a walk, people threw such malicious looks your way. What had you ever done to deserve this?

The officers poked and prodded for some more time, and finally packed their papers and left. While you walked out of the interrogation room, your attorney asked you to join her for lunch. You attempted to decline; you weren’t in the mood for lunch. Or anything for that matter.

But you had nowhere to return to, except straight into Taehyung’s world. It was better to prolong the journey back. Besides, the attorney told you that she wanted to discuss a few case details with you over lunch. Automatically, your feet started following her.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The minute you sat down to lunch, you understood that it was a ruse. She neither ordered food for herself nor did she suggest you to. As soon as the waiter turned, she dipped her head low and spoke rapidly:

“I hear that they are bringing in a solid witness to testify against you.”

The surprise caught you off-guard.

“But I didn’t do anything. What is the person going to testify about?”

“That you knew Yoongi was mortgaging your property and you jumped on the opportunity to get the money.”

“But that’s insane! I never-“

There was a haughty roll of her eyes that sparked bitter anger in you. She looked at you as if you were kidding.

“Oh, come on, doll. You can tell me the truth. I’m the only person you can trust.”

Her judging gaze made you want to punch her in the face.

“You think I – I am guilty? You don’t trust me?” Your tone grew louder and a few people turned to glance at you. “Why the hell did you agree to defend me then?”

“Pipe down,” she hissed, looking around herself self-consciously. “They have a witness and a story that sounds better than yours.”

“And that means I’m guilty? Because my story sounds ridiculous?”

She shrugged as if she didn’t care. She took her phone out, swiping on it mindlessly. There was nothing except for the clink of glasses and cutlery around you before she spoke again.

“I want you to consider a plea deal.”

“And why would I, when I’m clearly not guilty?” You folded your hands defiantly, surveying her with a hard stare.

“This is not a simple Missing Person search. You are a person of interest in this case as a possible murderer.”

“They haven’t yet found the body.” Your tongue had a metallic taste when you uttered the word.

“Yet.” She let the words sink in. “But they have proof that you stole the money.”

“Stole? That’s my husband’s money! I was taking it to save him.”

“You know what, Y/N? This story is so silly. You are going overboard with the obsession angle.” She leaned back and lit a cigarette. “You know what really happened?”

She paused and exhaled smoke in your direction, tilting her head to look at you more closely.

“You knew your husband owed Kim Taehyung money. You urged him to mortgage your property. He was probably unwilling. So, you pledged all your property and got the money. The money was in your house. It was easy cash. Min Yoongi was anyway going to be penniless after that, so-“

“Stop it!” Your scream turned a lot of heads.

“Allow me to finish.”

“No, stop it! Stop it right now!”

She smirked lazily. “-So why lose the cash and end up with him? It’s easy, you killed him and took off with the money. You stashed the money and never intended to show up again. Not before someone reported Yoongi missing, that is.”

“It wasn’t like that! You are fucking wrong!”

She blew a smoke ring, not minding your distress in the least. “But that is what the prosecution is bringing to court. And they have a witness who saw you lugging all the money and fleeing the house in your nightclothes.” She paused to laugh. “Couldn’t wait to even get properly dressed?”

Her phone chimed, and she looked down. Just as quickly, she grabbed her coat and briefcase, making haste to get out. You stood up to follow, but she laid a hand on your shoulder and sat you down again.

“He’ll be coming now. Remember what I said, the prosecutor’s going to have a field day with your story.”

She was out of earshot even before you could frame the words: “He? Who?”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You knew who was walking towards you before you even saw his face. Him. The man who had killed your husband. The man who you were trying to prolong going back to. Kim Taehyung.

He weaved his way through the tables at the restaurant, reaching your side like a piece of metal drawn to a magnet. He took his Aviators off, mussing his dark bangs out of his eyes as he sat down opposite you.

You got up to leave, and his hand shot through the air to grip your forearm.

“Sit down, honey.” His face was open and pleasant, but his eyes were unreadable. “You haven’t had lunch yet.”

The grip tightened, and you settled back down, a scowl on your face as you did so. You never dulled your scorching glare while he called the waiter and ordered food. After the waiter left, he turned to you.

“It’s been two weeks since it happened, Y/N. How much longer do you want me to wait?”

Tears pricked your eyes. Two weeks before, you had kissed Yoongi in Taehyung’s basement for what you hadn’t known would be the last time ever. You had been taken to another cottage of Taehyung’s after it happened. You had refused to eat or talk; you had been consumed in grief. Suddenly, a day ago, Wo Bin had tossed you in a car, and he had dropped you off at a hotel room. That same afternoon, the cops had found you and taken you in for questioning.

“Y/N?” Taehyung’s deep voice broke into your thoughts. “I’m talking to you.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you.”

“I’d rather go to prison; I’ll at least be free from your clutches.”

He snickered, flashing a boxy smile at you. If you didn’t know better, you’d call that an innocent grin. He leaned towards you, the smile still turning up the corners of his mouth.

“You? In prison? Oh , baby, that’s not a place for a princess like you.” His gaze dropped down before he looked into your eyes again. “Especially a pregnant princess.”

He watched the way your face twisted. The waiter brought the food, laying down the plates swiftly before you. Taehyung smiled at him in amiable politeness, waited for him to leave and resumed without missing a beat:

“You will have to give birth in prison, you’ll lose your baby after 18 months anyway. You don’t have relatives, so your baby will most definitely go into the system for foster care. Do you want that?”

You had no answer. You hadn’t thought of it ever happening, to be honest.

“It’s also possible you’ll be sentenced to many long years in prison. By the time you get out, your baby would be an adult.”

He saw the way your lips trembled as you digested the facts he was presenting. He bent down and sipped a spoonful of his soup. You looked at his bent head, weighing your options.

“It’s better than-“

Before you could say any further, he cut you short, raising his hand.

“I must say I look forward to adopting your baby.”

He grinned smoothly as he saw you sputter in dismay. God, you were so cute.

“What? Why would you? You don’t care about Yoongi’s baby.”

“Well, true, but the baby is part bastard and part angel. I like to focus on the fact that half of you will be with me as I await your return.”

He slurped the noodles in his soup with a flourish. “I can pull some strings to get the baby assigned to me.” He wiped his mouth with a tissue delicately, watching you the entire time.

“Don’t make me hate you even more, Kim Taehyung.”

He reached over the table, trying to take your hand, but you flicked it away. He sighed and shook his head.

“Eat up, Y/N. That attorney of yours kept you waiting without even offering food.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. She was probably working for him. He seemed to have a lot of people wound around his little finger. Except you. You fell silent, eating without looking up once.

The table was silent until he cleared his throat.

“I want you to think all this through and decide if you want me to help you.”

You scoffed at him. “Help me? How? Do you own the Justice Department too?”

He looked unfazed. A tiny smile played on his lips. “Eat and we’ll talk at the hotel.”

You fell silent again, but the question wormed its way out of your mouth despite your control.

“Why am I staying in that hotel? You didn’t take me to your house.”

“Because you mortgaged your house, you ran away with the money, and I don’t know you apart from the occasional meetings in the elite parties. In the past, when poor Mr. Min was alive, of course.”

“You don’t know me? Are you fucking kidding me, Taehyung?”

His boxy smile returned. Though these were not exactly favorable circumstances, the fact that you were so prettily angry made his heart warm. You were mad at him because he said he didn’t know you? A small jealous part of his heart sang in joy. Even if those words were uttered with hate, he was certain you would love him if you got to know him better. Until then, the subtle undercurrent would have to suffice.

“Like I said, we’ll talk about this at the hotel, Y/N.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

When you reached the hotel room, Taehyung opened the door, motioning for you to go in.

“After you, my darling.”

Once you were inside, he took off your coat, brushing his fingers against your bare arms, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. You could hear him sigh heavily behind you, and you spun around to face him.

“Get on with it.”

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You mean, get on with making love to you?”

You swatted the hand that was ghosting your shoulder, your tone drenched in spite.

“You know what I meant, Taehyung. What the hell were you talking about at the restaurant?”

He pouted his lips and his face fell. “Oh. That.” He sighed again, walking over to the bed.

He sat down, patting the bed to indicate that you were supposed to sit down too. When you didn’t comply, he yanked you by the arm, making you sit in his lap. A hand reached to your side to pinch you in case you squirmed. By then, you knew better than to resist. He rested the side of his head on your shoulder, whistling softly.

“Baby, you’re going to be sent away for a long time.”

“For what? Don’t play your games with me, Kim Taehyung.”

He turned you so you were facing him. There was animation in his eyes, so unlike the usual blank stare. It looked almost as if he were sad.

“You’re going to be tried for the murder of your husband.”

You tried to jump up, and a sharp pinch stilled you into position. “But I didn’t kill him.”

He used his free hand to brush away the tears, his touch feathery light and exceptionally gentle.

“Even if they don’t find the body, there’s a lot of evidence for reasonable doubt, and that’s enough for the jury.”

A sudden tic made your lips tremble. He held you patiently, waiting for it to subside.

“What evidence?”

His eyes softened.

“Some blood. DNA.” He watched your expression as he added: “The fact that you mortgaged the property, got the money, and fled.”

“But I didn’t-” Your brows furrowed for a second before it struck you. “Bong Ju.”

He nodded without answering. He watched you work things out in your mind. He always admired your smartness. But after Yoongi died, you had become kind of slow at thinking through stuff. He wished you would get better quickly so he could pounce on you.

“So, what happens next? You kill my husband, put me in prison, and then take my child?”

He didn’t say anything, quietly looking at the beaded tears on the corners of your eyes.

“I can help you. I can make it all go away.”

Something made you squirm on his lap. To your utter horror, you discovered what it was. You hit his jaw, making him gasp. Pushing yourself off of his lap, you screamed, boiling with rage.

“You’re hard? This is making you hard? What kind of sick bastard are you?”

The scream didn’t have any effect on him. He kept staring at you, eyes burning with primal hunger. Watching you stand before him, face red in anger and nose flaring, made him feel things.

His voice was soft, almost inaudible. “You do that to me.” He reached out to grasp your hand again, and pulled you down so you were almost straddling him.

“Listen Y/N. You have made me wait long enough. I will say this only once, so you better pay attention.”

You struggled in his arms, trying to get away from him. But a hand firmly cupped your jaw and pulled you close to his face.

“Fucking. Listen.”

You nodded wordlessly, and he relaxed his hold on your jaw.

“Two scenarios. One, plead guilty and go to prison. They’ll try you for the murder too. Two, plead innocent and still go to prison. I’ve planted enough evidence to support both scenarios. And you’ll lose the baby in both cases.”

He looked at you chastely, eyes wide and sincere.

“I have both the prosecutor and the defense attorney ready to handle it either way. Any proof of your innocence turns up, your attorney will quash it down. She is very thorough. Your friend Jung Hoseok is already being watched.”

“You bought both the prosecutor and the attorney?”

“Money, baby. It’s what drives them all.”

“And? You want me to dance to your tune, don’t you? What is it?”

He smiled again, and the smile reached his eyes.

“Three, you walk away from all this. Innocent. Your baby lives.”

“In exchange for what?”

His eyes sparkled, and his hands softly squeezed the side of your hips.

“Marry me.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“What do you want, Se Jong?”

The man perched on the hood of the car didn’t flinch.

Wo Bin exhaled in irritation. He had other pressing matters to deal with. He had errands to run for his boss. The white folded paper was still in his pocket, making his mind itch to get on with it. The boss had given him the paper and asked him to find the man matching what was written on it. Strange order, but his boss probably had his reasons. He shook the thoughts away and focused on the man who was eating his time.

“Unlike you, I have work to do, Se Jong. Spit it out.”

The man addressed as Se Jong shrugged his shoulders, leaning back lazily on the car’s windshield.

“I don’t know man.”

Wo Bin ground his teeth.

“Why did you ask to meet me then?”

“I want more.”

“You already get more than enough.”

“Not as much as you do.”

Wo Bin’s nose flared. Having served in the military, it always hurt his pride to be compared to a civilian goon.

“I am not a bank robber like you, Se Jong. You’re not even a good shot. It’s a mystery why the boss still has you around.”

It was already a known fact that Kim Taehyung only employed the best of the best.  Wo Bin often wondered what a dimwit like Se Jong was doing in his Taehyung’s fleet.

“Banker. How do you think the boss stashes his money if he doesn’t have people in the bank pulling strings for him?”

“Get to the point, Jong.”

“I said it already I want more. I want you to talk to the boss for me.”

“Consider it never done.”

Wo Bin turned his back and stormed away, leaving the man on the car seething in anger. Little did he know that Se Jong wasn’t as harmless as he seemed.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The courtroom was jam-packed. Your attorney had told you that the first sitting was just to warm the jury up to the facts of the case. But the sheer number of people in the gallery made you feel intimidated. Well, it was a case concerning the Min family. More importantly, Min Yoongi’s wife was on trial.

The prosecutor, Kang Minsook, made his opening statements, addressing the jury and accusing you of grand larceny. You watched on, neurons firing in your brain, as the prosecutor spun a splendidly woven tale of how you married Yoongi for money, felt cheated when he fell into debt, decided it was time to take the money for yourself, and fled.

Kim Taehyung was seated in the spectator area, dressed in his best of blacks, watching on as the prosecutor piled wrong information, wrapping up the lies smoothly with a few bits of truth so that it looked dirty, but believably so.

Your attorney made her opening statements, but they fell flat in front of the prosecutor’s powerful story of lies. One glance at the jury told you that none of them were buying the version of the case that the defense was presenting.

The judge turned to you.

“Mrs. Min, in this accusation of grand larceny, how do you plead?”

Your eyes swept over the jury. No soft glances were aimed towards you. You then looked at Taehyung, sitting with an air of regality as if he were presiding over the courtroom. Stretching yourself to your full height, you replied quietly:

“Not guilty, your Honor.”

A smile slowly spread across Taehyung’s lips.

The prosecutor was on his feet as soon as he got permission to start.

“I’d like to call the prosecution’s first witness, your Honor.”

You strained to see who was the witness. A tall man you knew only too well rose from the bench and took the witness stand. It was surely not the bald man you were expecting to see.

“Mr. Kim, please state your name and occupation for the sake of the court.”

The man looked straight ahead, flexing the muscles in his jaw. It made him look arrogant, giving off vibes of a man not to be messed with.

“I am Kim Namjoon. I’m the Executive Director of Park and Kim Motors Inc.”

“And how were you related to Mr. Min?”

“We were family friends.”

“Please elaborate on the nature of your relationship, Mr. Kim.”

The witness gazed at Minsook, and suddenly his eyes wore a brooding look.

“Min Yoongi and I were friends through our parents’ societal ties. I used to play Chess every evening with Yoongi before he got engaged.”

“So, your friendship with Mr. Min goes long back.” The prosecutor stopped to wipe his spectacles, leaving you wondering what he was up to.

“May I ask, Mr. Kim, as to why you stopped playing Chess with Mr. Min after his engagement?”

Your counsel shot to her feet.

“Objection, your Honor. The prosecutor is wasting the court’s time with irrelevant questions.”

Minsook looked at the judge with surprised eyes.

“But it is a relevant question, your Honor.”

“Overruled.”

Smiling broadly in a way that made your insides turn, the man turned again to his witness.

“Well, Mr. Kim?”

Kim Namjoon stared at you, so much malice concentrated in his eyes.

“His fiancée didn’t want me spending too much time with Yoongi.”

There was a pause. And then with a condescending tone, the next question was thrown:

“Maybe there was an innocent reason, Mr. Kim? Maybe the defendant wanted all the attention to herself?”

Once again, your counsel stood up with a loud “Objection, speculation, your Honor.”

“Sustained.”

With a wicked grin, the prosecutor threw a careless apology to the judge, looking at the witness expectantly.

“I don’t know. But now I know she wasn’t as innocent as she seemed.”

“Why exactly do you say that, Mr. Kim?”

Namjoon glared at you again.

“She didn’t even bother to search for Yoongi. She ran away.”

The prosecutor took a sealed evidence bag in his hand, turning so he was facing both the witness and the jury.

“And who filed the Missing Person report about Mr. Min?”

“I did. She didn’t. Because she was too busy counting the money.”

“Objection!”

“The prosecution will advise their witness not to make assumptive statements.”

But the damage had already been done.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You sat and listened as your husband’s best friend told the court how Yoongi had been increasingly agitated in the months prior to his disappearance.

“He was in so much trouble, it was clear as day,” he said.

“And did he tell you what was bothering him, Mr. Kim?”

Namjoon clenched his jaw again. “He was missing his mother very badly.”

The wicked gleam in Minsook’s eyes returned.

“What happened to his mother, Mr. Kim?”

“His mother had been institutionalized. His wife and mother were not on good terms. It broke Yoongi’s heart to part with his mother like that.”

“So, Mr. Min’s wife sent her mother-in-law away?”

The jury watched Namjoon affirm that with a curt “Yes.” Your attorney made no attempt to object. Things were beginning to look dark for you.

“Why do you think the elder Mrs. Min was sent away, Mr. Kim?”

The judge waited for your counsel to object citing speculation. But she made no move. With a withering glance, the judge advised the defense to not indulge in speculation.

The question was rephrased with a sly grin.

“What did Mr. Min tell you about his mother being sent away?”

Namjoon looked at the jury with sincere eyes.

“He said that his wife was in danger because of his mother. Mrs. Min accused her mother-in-law of trying to stab her with a knife.”

“Did Mr. Min say that the accusation was correct?”

“He only arrived in time to separate them. So, there’s no proof of who instigated the fight.”

Your palms started sweating. A delicate web of lies was being spun around you, and the spider at the center of it all sat watching with quiet enthusiasm.

“Did you know that Mr. Min was in huge financial debt?”

Taehyung watched the witness shake his head, followed by a curt “No.” He slid his hand to his pocket where his phone buzzed. There was a single message on the notification shade.

“Done.”

He looked back at the man who was talking, turning his phone’s display off and allowing himself a smile.

The prosecutor was going on.

“Why didn’t Mr. Min confide in you, if you were such close friends? He could have even borrowed from you.”

Namjoon shifted in his seat, his thick brows crumpling slightly as he processed the question.

“I don’t remember exactly, but I heard in passing that his wife shopped extravagantly. I assume it was his wife who wrung him dry. So, he was probably unable to confide in me about his wife.”

The prosecutor beamed.

“Naturally.”

Your attorney interrupted with an objection citing speculation, which was sustained.

At that, the prosecutor produced another plastic bag of evidence.

“These are the receipts that prove Mrs. Min purchased exquisite jewels, your Honor.” He flourished the bag at the jury, eyes bright with emotion. “Each purchase cost more than the previous one, amounting to millions of dollars.”

Wearing a proud smile, the prosecutor thanked the witness and gave your attorney the nod to cross-examine the witness. The woman slowly got up, adjusting her robes as she approached the witness box.

“Let me start with the easiest question, Mr. Kim.” Her face took on an innocent expression. “Wasn’t Mr. Min already very rich? Why would he ever get into debt? He already owned the Min Group.”

Namjoon looked at her in confusion. “He didn’t own the Min Group. His father did.”

“The late Mr. Min?”

“Yes. Yoongi was only the executive director of the Min Group until his father died.”

You watched your attorney look suddenly uncomfortable. You didn’t understand the need for this line of questioning. The jury looked confused too. Until the next question tore through the silence.

“How did the late Mr. Min die, Mr. Kim?”

“He was involved in a car accident. He died of multiple organ failure.”

“So, both of Mr. Min’s parents were out of the picture shortly after he married the defendant?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Was your own attorney suggesting that-?

“Yes.” Namjoon’s voice interrupted the thoughts racing through your mind.

The judge looked sharply at your counsel. Was she out of her mind, to hand such an insinuating lead to the prosecution?

“Are you going anywhere with this, counsel?”

Your attorney nervously bit her lip.

“No, your honor.”

She turned to Namjoon.

“Couldn’t the defendant have purchased the jewels even when the elder Mr. Min was alive?”

Namjoon wondered if this woman had even researched her case properly. What kind of attorney gave away their client like this in court? He looked at you, weighing his words.

“Mr. Min handled all the finance of the Min family. Yoongi could have bought her the jewels, yes, but his father had to okay any big expenses he made.”

“I see. Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

Namjoon was excused from the witness stand. You were in utter disbelief. You were being framed. By your own attorney. Taehyung was right. You were going to prison.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

 You couldn’t bring yourself to munch the sandwich that was before you. It was court recess, and your attorney was by your side, eating busily. She was completely oblivious of your apparent resentment towards her.

“How could you give me away like that?”

She looked up; eyebrows raised.

“Like what?”

You had to control yourself from shouting at the top of your lungs. Clutching the table hard, you rocked yourself, trying to be calm.

“You almost accused me of killing my father-in-law.”

She rolled her eyes with a blank “Eh.” On seeing you intensify the burning stare; she grumblingly munched the last bit of her steak.

“You’re already on your way to prison, dearie. Nothing I say or don’t is gonna help you.”

“You are my fucking lawyer!”

A few lawyers seated on the adjacent table murmured in disapproval in your general direction.

“Mind your fucking business!” You shouted at them, eyes blazing in anger. The woman clucked her tongue in disapproval.

“That temper won’t help. Don’t incriminate yourself even more. I did tell you to accept a plea deal, Y/N.”

Three tables away from yours, Kang Minsook was seated with his associates, deep in discussion.

“Something about this case makes me feel weird,” an associate was saying. “Why would the defense point out the senior Mr. Min’s accident? It only makes sense if we do. What is that attorney up to?”

Far back in the cafeteria, Taehyung sipped a cold strawberry milkshake as he watched you. Ugh. He had to endure the disgusting milkshake just for you. For you. Yes, he would do anything for you. But the obvious artificial strawberry flavoring was almost too much. You would pay later for making him drink such cheap stuff.

As his juniors droned on about the case, Minsook glanced over at your gloomy figure staring down at the table. It made him wonder how you were going to handle what was coming next.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You were sure you were going to be called up for cross-examination as soon as the court was in session. Bunching the hem of your skirt tight, you bent your head in apprehension. They were going to call out your name. They were going to prove that you killed Yoongi. They were going to send you to prison. Your knuckles tightened around the fabric, the dampness of your palm transferring onto it.

“The prosecution summons Mr. Kim Taehyung, your Honor.”

All the fear in the world rolled into one tight ball that got caught in your throat. Taehyung was going to testify?

The black-haired man took confident strides as he made his way to the witness stand. Everything about him suggested a successful, genuine, and well-respected man. The ladies in the gallery murmured about how rare it was to see not one but two families in the elite circle pitted against each other. The thumping of your heart was so loud and deafening. Taehyung composed himself with a sincere look in his dark eyes.

“Please state your name and occupation for the sake of the court.”

He raked his eyes through the jury. “I am Kim Taehyung. I am the CEO of Kim Automotive LLC.”

Minsook considered the witness carefully.

“What kind of relationship do you have with the Min family?”

“We were both rich families.” Taehyung masked the bitterness in his voice. “We met at social gatherings.”

“Do you know the defendant?”

“Yes.” The answer was abrupt, leaving unsaid words hanging in the air. The prosecutor pressed on.

“How do you know her?”

Taehyung batted his thick eyelashes innocently, looking square into the eyes of Minsook.

“She came to me trying to pledge the Min estate.”

There was a sharp gasp from the spectators and the low murmuring started to grow louder before the judge pounded his gavel.

The prosecutor waited for all the hushed voices to completely dribble down into sharp silence before asking the burning question:

“The defendant sought you out by herself?”

You closed your eyes lest someone see the beaded drops that were threatening to fall. All the memories of what happened half an hour ago flashed in your mind in full throttle.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You had been walking back to the benches outside the courtroom, when a man bumped into you, causing you to gasp out loud. As you clutched your shoulder and glared crossly at the retreating figure, you noticed chewing gum on your suit. Wincing in disgust, you tried to peel it off when you noticed a small neatly folded bit of paper sticking to it. You opened it, only to find four words written on the slip.

‘Barristers’ chambers No. 3. -KTH’

Turning just in time, your eyes caught Taehyung as he slowly watched you and walked ahead, leading the way.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

“Well, sugar? Ready to change your mind yet?” were the words that greeted you upon entering the chambers.

The blinds were drawn, lending a dark ambiance to the room. Taehyung was half-leaning on the table, supporting the weight of his body on both his arms. He watched you, fascinated by the pencil skirt and the tailored suit jacket that fit you so well. It was a shame that you had to go through all the court drama. The worry on your forehead made him want to reach over and kiss all the tension away. Only if you let him. He sighed.

He pushed himself off the table, reaching you in determined strides, his face alight with emotion. With an arrogant flick of his wrist, he crooned in his deep voice:

“20 more minutes before the court is in session, darling.”

His long fingers gripped your jacket, pulling you into his chest. The fingers roamed on your person, finding purchase at the nape of your neck. The heat of his body accompanied by the firm grip of his fingers left you frozen in place.

Taehyung rang his tongue over his upper lip, curling his mouth in a suggestive smirk.

“So, yes or no?”

“I- How can you make it all go away?” your voice came in a bare whisper.

“Baby, I always get my way. Do you still doubt what I’m capable of?”

He nuzzled his forehead against yours, sighing deeply in content. His eyes fluttered closed, the steady rise and fall of his chest falling in rhythm with yours.

“So? What is it? Endure me, or spend a lifetime in prison wondering what I did with your child?”

“Plea-“

His finger shushed your lips, stopping you from saying anything he didn’t want to hear. His eyes were still closed, but there was a soft smile kindling in the corners of his lips.

“18 minutes left, Y/N. Say it. Yes or No?”

Your mind was a maze of emotions. Say yes and live with Taehyung? The man who killed your husband? You’d have to be insane to do that. Say no and go to prison? What would you do without your baby? Why did all of this happen? Where exactly did you go wrong? Why were you trapped in a room with your husband’s killer draped all over your bosom?

“15 minutes.”

A giant sob rocked your body, tears streaming down your face as you spat it out:

“Yes.”

His eyes opened slowly, a euphoric smile making his face glow in radiance. You could have sworn there was a glossy film on his eyes that suspiciously resembled tears.

“Oh Y/N. I love you.”

He peppered soft kisses on your cheeks and nose, leaning back reflexively at the wetness of your cheeks.

“Why the tears, my sweet?” He brushed the trickling tears with the tip of his thumb. “Anyone would think you hate the idea of marrying me.”

When he didn’t get a reply, his eyes went from soft to dangerous in one quick flash. He leaned over you so that you were arching yourself backward, his hand supporting the small of your back securely. He made as if to kiss your jaw, but flicked his tongue out instead. His hot tongue swept over the trail left by the tears, licking your face from jaw to cheekbone in one long stroke.

His other hand gripped your squirming hips hard, the dangerous glint was fixated on your pupils as he continued his stroke above your eyes, stopping only momentarily when your eyes fluttered at the wet feeling of your lashes. He finished the trail at your eyebrow, landing a soft kiss on the arch of your eyebrow.

“No makeup,” he observed, looking deep into your eyes. “And just as beautiful as always. Delicious too. Pity you didn’t wear lipstick; I’d have loved to have your lip prints on my cock.”

His grip of your waist loosened, and you pushed yourself upright, shuddering all over. You tried to wipe off his saliva with the sleeve of your jacket, but his hand stopped you with a harsh jolt.

“Never, remember, never wipe off anything I give you.”

You glared at him, the sticky wetness still bothering you.

“You disgust me, Kim Taehyung.”

His eyes crinkled in delight. “Aw, I love you too, darling.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung considered the question, ruminating on his thoughts.

“Yes.”

Minsook chose his words carefully.

“Can you tell the court what Mrs. Min said, Mr. Kim?”

“She said ‘My husband is in debt and I want to mortgage our property. He doesn’t want anyone to know, so I came to you instead of going to his friends.’ She looked very upset. “

“And you didn’t talk to Mr. Min about this before agreeing to the request?”

Taehyung looked annoyed.

“I trusted Mrs. Min’s words.” It looked like referring to you by that title made him sick. “I didn’t want her husband to feel uncomfortable, especially because she said that he wanted it to be discreet.”

You felt bile rising to your chest as you watched the bastard stack lie upon lie as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Minsook considered the witness closely before asking his next question.

“Do you have witnesses to corroborate your story, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung simply smiled, his eyes briefly flitting over to you. He ran his tongue over his lips as if your taste was still on them.

“At least twenty of my staff were present when she arrived at my mansion.”

Wrong. There were more than 50 guys that day when you went to him, dragging a suitcase in your pajamas. Of course, they would testify against you. The case was going to be a nightmare to get out of.

Taehyung was excused in haste. Turning to the judge, Minsook spoke so fast that you almost couldn’t keep up with his flow.

“Your Honor, the state pleads more time to prove that the accused mortgaged the Min property, took the money- “he glanced at the jury with emotion “-and killed her husband to get rid of liabilities. We have enough evidence for reasonable doubt.”

He appealed to the jury with strong words, trying to rock them in his favor.

“An innocent man loses all his money, his wife flees, she never reports him missing, his house is a bloody mess, with blood matching his DNA all over the place. The police found one airplane ticket in the defendant’s personal effects. Just one. Not two, if she is to be believed.”

He let the magnitude of his allusion sink in before throwing the next bombshell.

“As the defense uncovered, the elder Mr. and Mrs. Min were conveniently removed from the defendant’s life. The defense also confirmed that the defendant alleged that her mother-in-law was a threat to her life and sent her away. This raises doubt into the elder Mr. Min’s tragic accident.”

You were shocked into silence; the pain was overwhelming. You felt like you were floating above your body, detached and dead from all the pain and hurt.

Minsook was going on.

“While we can’t definitively prove that the defendant was involved in it, we do have the responsibility of looking keenly into the case at hand to make sure that justice is served.”

There was a brief interruption as the side doors opened, and a man walked in, making straight to your attorney. He handed her a package, whispering into her ear. She immediately stood up and asked for permission to speak. All eyes were on her, and no one noticed the brief looks exchanged between Taehyung and the mysterious messenger. Except you, of course.

“Your Honor, the defense wishes to continue this hearing in camera.”

The judge peered over his glasses at the counsel.

“What is the necessity for it, please?”

You saw the defense attorney wave the package at the jury, addressing the judge and jury at the same time.

“We have proof that Min Yoongi is alive.”

What? You gasped in shock, the news bringing you back to reality and grounding you. The brief respite was replaced with deep hurt when you looked at Taehyung. His single raised eyebrow uttered the unsaid. He had gotten his way. Just like he had said he would.

A loud babble of voices broke out in the spectators’ area, the droning of voices so loud that the judge pounded the gavel furiously.

“And what proof is there to confirm this news?”

Your attorney passed a few pieces of paper over to the clerk.

“These are Min Yoongi’s shell company records that prove that he is in possession of the 50 million dollars, your Honor.” She passed on more papers. “This flight manifest shows that a passenger named Soo Yeongguk was on board, carrying a passport with the same name.”

“And?”

“These surveillance camera pictures show that it was Mr. Min who used a fake passport in the name of Soo Yeongguk to flee the country.”

Minsook sputtered, “But Your Honor, the blood and DNA,” he was wringing his hands, “He couldn’t have flown with those injuries.”

It was explained away by the defense as non-conclusive.

“Mr. Min could have easily planted his blood just like he did everything else to frame his wife, your Honor. There is no hard evidence that he bled to death. Or even died, for that matter.”

“Why has the defense wasted the court’s valuable time when all these facts were already known?”

“We only got confirmation of the false identity a few minutes ago, your Honor.”

The judge rose up to stand, and immediately the whole courtroom followed suit.

“This will be further discussed in camera.”

The judge turned and left, and both the prosecution and defense scurried to fetch their documents and hastened to the judge’s chambers. The bailiff escorted the jury and left.

There was pandemonium and confusion after they left. People were restless, talking in hushed tones about all the drama that had just happened. As for you, it was pure shock that kept you standing on your feet. Shock at how easily justice has been swayed.

It felt like you were treading clouds when you were taken into the judge’s chambers. How could they have cooked up all the proof? You saw your husband’s death with your own eyes. Was there not an inkling of sunshine at the end of the tunnel? Not a drop of justice in the universe?

You felt numb and empty as you stood watching the judge reprimand your counsel for wasting the court’s time and resources. He also fined the defense. You weren’t listening. You didn’t care. Because you were declared innocent. And condemned to marry Taehyung.

You didn’t stay back to see Taehyung and the judge shake hands in solidarity. Nor did you hear Taehyung whisper:

“Good show. Expect the money in one hour.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The cold water pricking your skin did nothing to assuage the hurt eating away at your heart. The incessant flashes of the cameras as you exited the courtrooms, the reporters calling your name out, the overpowering smell of sweat and stale coffee, everything came back with such force that you squatted in the shower, hugging yourself.

You had come back to the hotel alone. No Taehyung. Because he apparently ‘didn’t know you that much.’ Snake. And you couldn’t find a way to escape him. He had kept his side of the bargain. You had to keep yours. The cold water was a far better company than the man outside your door.

“Y/N!” The knocks on the bathroom door were growing impatient. “Come on out already.”

You looked at the flimsy contraption that was dividing you and him. You had to go out. He couldn’t be avoided forever.

“Want me to break the damn door?” The deep voice hollered in irritation.

Taehyung couldn’t wait to see you. You were now his. No force on Earth could take you away from him. Not on his watch. He had already received a text from Wo Bin. So that matter had been taken care of. He was in a jubilant mood.

The lock clicked, and you emerged, wrapped in the hotel’s complimentary white bathrobe. Taehyung thought that he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Wet hair clumped in loose coils around your shoulders, slowly dripping water on the robe. His heart sang, believing that you had been cleansed of Min Yoongi and his touches. You looked angelic; damp body covered in nothing but a robe. A strange feeling raged up from his gut, catching in his throat and smothering him in emotion.

His hand reached you as if it had a mind of its own. The fabric was rough. Wouldn’t it chafe your delicate skin? He balled his fist to contain his annoyance. His slender fingers bunched around the sash, pulling you into his arms. He gasped at how cold you were.

“You’re so cold, Y/N.”

Your face was blank. He got no response. Tracing his steps backward, he landed on the bed, pulling you into his lap.

“So cold,” he repeated again, gently nudging the robe away from your shoulder blades to press soft kisses. You squirmed, and he didn’t like it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped, cupping your jaw.

The hurt was too much and you broke.

“It’s- I – Yoongi.”

He held you in his arms, waiting for the violent sobs to subside, gently shushing you. He didn’t like that you were still thinking of Yoongi. But he had foreseen this. And he had already made arrangements.

“What about Yoongi, baby?”

You sniffed, unsure if you were supposed to tell him. Hell, what else did you have to lose?

“He- I- “More sobs and hiccups before you continued: “-I want to see him.”

He blew out his cheeks softly.

“And what good will that do?”

He attempted to wipe your tears, but you slapped his hand away.

“I’m his wife.”

“Not anymore. He’s dead.”

The words twisted into your heart like a cold iron dagger. The fighter in you returned with a vengeance.

“But Yoongi is alive. At least legally. You just proved that in court.”

He chuckled, the vibrations of his chest transferring onto your own body, sweeping you into the reverberation too.

“Yes. And unfortunately, he died an hour ago.”

You tried to push yourself off him in vain. The hold grew tight, and his eyes became harder. Your voice broke again.

“What do you mean?”

He cradled your head into the crook of his neck, and you revolted angrily by hitting his jaw and pulling back.

“Tell me, you fucking prick!”

He grinned, his irises dark, the danger swimming in them climbing out and coloring his features with malice.

“You’ll find out yourself.”

He sat motionless, looking into your eyes, as you hurled cuss words at him, shaking his shoulders, demanding an answer. You grew tired eventually, and stopped your tirade, choosing to go silent instead.

It was all quiet in the room, with Taehyung holding you in his lap, sniffing your wet hair, when the ringing of a cell phone screeched and cut the silence. The sound was coming from his pocket.

“Take it,” he urged, his voice dark and mysterious. “It’s for you.”

Grimacing, you dug your fingers into his pockets, scowling when he moaned at your touch. Upon finding the phone, you accepted the call and breathed out a shaky “Hello?”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I don’t have the faintest idea why Yoongi did this,” Mrs. Park said, dabbing her eyes as she patted your hand. “He was such a good boy.” She shook her head sadly. “Maybe I didn’t know him that well after all.”

To say that her words amplified your hurt would be an understatement. You were surrounded by people who were willing to believe that Yoongi had deserted you, ending up dead by a twist of fate. Your Yoongi would never do that. Never.  Yet, the groups of people clustered in the hall seemed to think otherwise.

You looked around at the familiar yet strange faces. Did any of them even care? You thought not. And yet again, the man who destroyed your husband made his appearance, weaving his way through the flood of faces.

“My heartfelt condolences, Mrs. Min.”

You shook your hand free from his clasp. The venomous anger bubbling inside you made you choke on your words as you bit out a forced “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

“Talk about Karma,” he went on, unmindful of your hostile countenance. “He left you desolate and Karma caught up with him.”

Before you could snap, Mrs. Park nodded her head, acknowledging his words.

“Mr. Kim is right, child. Yoongi got into trouble because he left you. No decent man fakes his death and pins the blame on his wife.”

She became agitated, the sorrow of losing her best friend’s son hitting her hard.

“I wish he hadn’t gotten involved with the mafia, though. He might have come back to you. Alas.”

More tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to Mrs. Park. How you wished you could scream that Yoongi was dead only because of Taehyung!

“I’ll call on Sung-Hee at the Klammer when I leave.” She patted your shoulder delicately.

You nodded with a soft whisper: “Please give her my love.”

Kim Namjoon had come to bid his friend farewell. He was silent as he surveyed the closed coffin, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he controlled his choked emotions. He paused to hiss in your ear when he was leaving:

“You killed him, bitch.”

The funeral was very difficult to get through. People kept walking up to you, expressing their disappointment at the way your husband had met his death. And all the while the killer stood at a corner of the hall, not caring in the least about the gross injustice Min Yoongi was being subjected to, even in his death.

When everyone left, you were standing alone in the hall, working up the heart to bid goodbye to the love of your life. Taehyung had left long ago, playing his part of an innocent visitor.

Your fingers traced the wood, feeling the ridges and following the embossed floral patterns. It was going to be very hard. Biting your lip to contain the trembling, you slid a finger under the coffin lid.

“I would advise against that.”

You looked up with a start. It was him again. You glared at him as your fingers pried under the lid again. He stepped forward with an urgent whisper.

“Y/N, don’t.”

You had already seen the worst happen right before your eyes. What more would frighten you?

Taehyung wasn’t fast enough, and you had already screamed and leaped back when he arrived at your side.

“I told you not to.” His arms embraced you, holding you tight while you continued screaming your heart out. You turned on him with vengeful fury, hitting his chest, throwing a volley of punches with your balled fists. He let you punch him, not even trying to shield himself.

When you were spent from all the screaming and punching, he hugged you as softly as he could.

“I hired the best mortician. But-” he sighed heavily “-yeah; Min still looks bad.”

He was met with no response. He continued hugging you, rubbing soft circles on your back.

“But-”

He bent down to look at your red eyes. “Hm?”

“Where’s his…” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “… his wedding ring?”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know.”

It didn’t matter. You knew that the man inside the coffin was Yoongi. You would recognize those fingers from anywhere. Those long beautiful fingers that had traced lines of love on your skin ever so often. He was indeed gone.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung was silent as he watched the numbers on the elevator as it climbed up to his penthouse office. It had been three days since he had last seen you. You were at his mansion, alright, but you had locked yourself in a room and had refused to come out. He hadn’t seen you ever since the funeral. He idly wondered if you were still wearing the black dress from that evening. A small conscious cough interrupted his thought train.

So Na Yeon, his personal secretary, nervously fished in her pocket for a kerchief. “Please excuse me.”

He didn’t react. The top two buttons of her blouse were undone. Her lipstick was a shade too bright for his taste. She was interesting to look at. But no one could ever match to you. And thus, he found himself thinking of you yet again.

When the elevator dinged and opened, she followed Taehyung briskly, sailing into his office right behind him. She waited for him to be seated, and then got on with briefing him about his appointments for the day. But when Taehyung waved her away, she remained in place, biting her lip anxiously.  

“Well?”

She creased her forehead, deciding if she should tell him.

“Mr. Wo Bin reported that one of the men is rebelling, sir.”

“In what way?”

“It appears that he asked for a raise and Mr. Bin turned him down.”

“What did Bin say about it?”

She shook her head.

“He said that the man isn’t good enough and that he’s already a waste of your money.”

Taehyung lost interest. He wanted to get his work done with so he could think of you more.

“If Bin said so, I don’t doubt his opinion. Tell him to handle the guy in whichever way he sees fit.”

“Yes, sir.”

She turned and left. And Taehyung noticed her short business skirt for the first time. She seemed really proud of her figure. And then she faded out and his mind wandered to you once again.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You could hear him fiddling with the doorknob. You knew he had a master key. You had expected to see him break into the room angrily as soon as you had slammed yourself in. But Taehyung did nothing of that sort.

Every morning, before he left, he would try the doorknob. Every evening, as soon as he arrived, he would do it again. There would be heavy sighs outside the door and he’d leave. It was like a ritual, and it went on for six days since the funeral.

On the seventh day, however, he lost his patience. He had waited and given you time to come back to him. He wanted you to walk into his arms willingly. But his patience was wearing thin.

“Open the door.”

He was pressing his forehead against the wood, gritting his teeth in suppressed anger. When there was no sound of movement, his voice rose to a high growl.

“I said open! Now!”

His large palms made contact with the wood as he pounded on the door. Suddenly, the door gave way and opened, the darkness inside the room making it hard for him to see you. It didn’t help that you were wearing black too. At last, he made out your outline.

He reached over to flick the light on, and gasped as soon as the light hit you. There were deep dark circles under your eyes. The straps of the dress were loose and ready to fall from your shoulders.

“God, Y/N, you look like Death.”

He cautiously approached forward, running his eyes over the clavicles that were jutting out sharply.

“It’s been six days. Seven, almost.” He took your hand, pressing it gently. “Come out.”

“No.”

Your voice was so low that he tilted his head to catch the words.

“You need to eat.”

“No.”

He tugged on your hand hard, anger rising in his chest.

“It’s not good for- ” he eyed your belly, “-that thing inside you.”

Hatred lit a spark in your blank eyes.

“It’s a baby,” you hissed, pushing against his chest with all your might. “It’s Min Yoongi’s baby.”

“Yeah, whatever. Do you want it to die? Come out and fucking eat.”

The glaring eyes were better than the blank ones, he noted. He liked you better when you were all animated and furious.

“I wasn’t starving myself. The mini-fridge…“

“I don’t think fruit would nourish your bastard enough. Stop arguing and come out.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung knew the answer before he even asked the question out loud.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You were dressed in a soft cashmere sweater and jeans. Yoongi used to love that sweater. He would always comment on how it made you look like a fairy cloud.

Taehyung knew the clothes only too well. He had seen you wear the sweater on multiple dates with Yoongi while he was following you around. It made him mad to see you still dressing up for him.

You didn’t even turn his way, throwing the answer at him sullenly:

“My husband’s grave.”

Taehyung leaned back on the sofa, propping his legs up on the coffee table.

“And who exactly is buried there?”

You turned and stared at him, confused.

“Min Yoongi?”

Taehyung chuckled heartily, crossing his arms and gazing fondly at you.

“Oh honey, how naïve you are!”

“What do you mean?” Anxiety pooled in your chest as he continued chuckling without answering.

He took his sweet time to answer, leaving you standing puzzled.

“Do you honestly think I’d let you visit that bastard in his grave, Y/N? Just so you can make him a martyr? Do you think I’m a fool?”

“What- what do you mean?” you repeated again, feeling your chest tighten.

“He isn’t buried there. There’s another dead guy matching his description buried in his stead.”

“But- the coffin-“

“Oh, yeah it was him in the coffin, all right.” He yawned lazily. “Switched bodies on the way to the cemetery.”

He watched all the emotions flashing on your face, the quiver of your lips, the unblinking eyes as you grasped all the information he had just stated. Finally, a cold blank stare replaced the myriad of emotions that had lit up your face. Slowly, you walked back into the bedroom, locking yourself shut. Taehyung sighed deeply. You were finally his.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

It was obvious to Taehyung that you were suffering him just for the sake of your baby. It was bittersweet to him that the only reason you would stay alive was Yoongi’s child growing inside you. He wished fervently to get rid of that tiny Min seed, but he knew the aftermath would be disastrous.

You talked to him in barbed tones only if it was absolutely necessary. The rest of the time, it was as if he was invisible to you. He had forced you to sleep in the master bedroom with him. But it hurt him to see the wide gap in the sheets between him and you every night.

Sometimes, he would turn in his sleep and a finger would brush against you. And he’d stay wide awake watching you huddle on the corner of the bed, sobbing quietly. It became increasingly apparent that you weren’t sleeping at all. If he so much as shifted in his side of the bed, you would immediately flinch.

Part of him wanted to understand, to hold you, and say that he loved you and wouldn’t hurt you. Another part of him was fueled by jealousy, that even in death, Min Yoongi was winning your attention. It was frustrating to him that his enemy wasn’t alive. Who could fight a dead man’s memory?

It was that part of him that broke loose, when he saw you crawl on your side of the bed, wearing an oversized hoodie that reeked of another man. Not letting him touch you was already a sore point. And the hoodie just made him go ballistic.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

“Huh?” You looked down at Yoongi’s hoodie. “I am cold.”

“Wear something else or strip naked for all I care.” His nose was flaring with the exertion it took to control himself.

You glared at him for a hot second.

“Fuck yourself.”

Without another word, you turned your back to him.

There was a sudden jolt as he pranced to your side, pulling you so you were lying on your back. His whole countenance was flashing with murderous rage. His knees were on either side of you, his arms pinning your shoulders to the bed. Hot breath fanned your face as he dipped his head down.

“Throw everything away. Everything that belonged to Min.”

You stared at him in defiance.

“What about me? I belong to him.”

His lips twitched ominously.

“He is dead.”

You didn’t back down in the slightest.

“Yes. You killed him.”

You could see the internal struggle he was going through to stop himself from hitting you.

He took a deep ragged breath and dipped his head even closer to your face.

“Listen, Y/N. Everything I did, I did because I love you.” He gripped your jaw hard when you rolled your eyes. “I went through a lot to get you. And I will not let you screw this up for me.” He paused with a haunted look in his eyes.

“Why is it so hard to love me?”

He looked at your lips as if they were curling around the words that would be his lifeline.

“Because you are not Yoongi. You killed him.”

His hot sigh fell on your lips, the heat sucking all the moisture from the soft flesh. You were scared that he was going to kiss you.

He leaned back a bit, catching hold of the hem of the hoodie.

“Are you going to remove this, or should I?”

He got off you, turning his back to you as he rummaged in his closet. Without looking back, he tossed his grey oversized sweater at you. He didn’t wait before adding:

“Wear that or sleep naked. Your choice.”

It gave him wicked joy to see you dressed in his clothes. His scent would be all over you, washing away that bastard’s. He made a note to throw away everything you owned and buy you new ones. Nothing should remind you of Min. Even the most inconsequential thing would have to go. He looked at your back wistfully. Everything but that thing inside your belly.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Two weeks passed uneventfully. Taehyung had given you a restricted phone. You could only call Taehyung with it. Calls to Hoseok and others never went through. You felt like your world had suddenly shrunk to one individual.

There was nothing to do in that big house. You weren’t allowed to work, because, apparently you were ‘not ready yet.’ Sometimes, it crossed your mind that you hadn’t received any letters or calls from your clients and friends. But it was probably because Taehyung screened everything. You were sure he’d filter the air you breathed if he had a way to.

You wondered how your mother-in-law was. Why was it that she went crazy but you didn’t? Had your love for Yoongi not been strong enough? Were you not anchored deeply with Yoongi as Sung-Hee had been with her husband?

Would you end up in a room next to your Yoongi’s mother? But you were sure they would take away your child if you went to the Klammer Institute. No, you shivered in disgust. You would never let Taehyung destroy the little piece of Yoongi left in the world.

The next morning, you emerged from the bathroom, body drained in exhaustion. Nothing you ate seemed to stay in your tummy. Wearily, you padded over to the full-length mirror in the dressing table.

You were pulling the shirt up and gazing at your belly when there was a click behind you. Taehyung stood immobile at the doorway, mouth agape.

His eyes were fixed on the mirror, looking at the tiny flab on your erstwhile flat belly. You had been only a couple months pregnant when Yoongi died, so the bump hadn’t shown. But nature was going her way, and soon you would be heavily pregnant, belly rich and round with child.

Taehyung gazed silently, not uttering a word. It was as if he were on mute. When he opened his mouth, at last, the words that shot out were:

“Time to marry.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Your plea to wait longer fell on deaf ears. Taehyung didn’t want to delay marrying you. He wanted to protect his ego. He would marry you before your pregnancy showed.

You pointed out that people would call you an unscrupulous woman who remarried even before flowers took root on her husband’s grave.

“Do you want everyone to hate me?”

He didn’t even flinch.

“Everyone already hates me. At least you’ll be on my side.”

No matter how you pleaded, he refused to listen. He reminded you of the jail time he had saved you and your baby from.

“It wouldn’t take me a minute to get you arrested again, you know.”

He looked at your midsection. “Want me to sign up for foster care?”

There was no way out. You slumped your shoulders in resignation. It was part of the deal, after all.

“Nothing lavish.” You licked your lips nervously. “Just take me to the fucking courthouse and get it over with.

Taehyung smiled, eyes dancing. The sunny smile lit his face aglow, a strange softness shading his sharp features.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Y/N, you really are a mystery. So soon?”

Mrs. Kim didn’t care to lower her voice.

“Leave her alone, Mrs. Kim.”

Hoseok’s tone was clipped, annoyance evident on his face.

Bo Na was holding your hand, patting it slowly, her eyes assuring you that she understood why you had to do what you did.

Taehyung smiled, finger grazing the rim of the champagne glass. He was wearing the tux he had bought months before you married Yoongi. He had spent countless nights running his fingers over the dreamy satin, his mind dreaming up heady concoctions of how sparkling you would look as you walked down the aisle, on his arm. He had woven all his dreams into the very fabric of that tuxedo, and the fact that he had, at last, attained what he wanted, made his heart warm.

“To tell you the truth, Mrs. Kim,” he sipped some champagne, waiting until all the attention was on him, “Y/N is pregnant with Min Yoongi’s child.”

Bo Na gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to contain the shock.

Mrs. Kim looked just as shocked. She couldn’t stop lowering her eyes to your belly.

Taehyung continued:

“She needs a person by her side, especially after losing Yoongi so tragically. I was Yoongi’s friend, and I can’t let Y/N suffer by herself.”

You wished the champagne were laced with poison. When had you become so weak? How was it that you let him puppeteer you into silence? Should you have tried and killed him before things got so complicated?

“Lost in thought, lamb?”

Taehyung grinned. No water on Earth would have doused the fiery glare you threw his way. Mrs. Kim called out to her son who was passing by.

“Namjoon!”

Yoongi’s best friend clenched his jaw and exhaled loudly before making his way to his mother.

“Yes, mom.”

“You were wrong about Y/N, boy. The poor girl is pregnant.”

His thick eyebrows arched at you in surprise.

His mother went on.

“And Taehyung only wanted to help, poor darling. Such a good man, he is.”

Namjoon’s eyes locked onto Taehyung’s. The air felt electric as they stared each other down. Namjoon deflated eventually.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is. Excuse me, please.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

There were no words to describe how embarrassed you were by the whole wedding affair. Everything was the opposite of nothing lavish. The decorations were all extravagant, sophisticated, and gaudy in the face of the fact that you had been widowed only months ago.

Taehyung had invited every person who had attended your first wedding with Yoongi. It was almost as if he wanted to flaunt you and brag about how he had fooled them all right under their noses. He was everywhere, flitting from one guest to the other, flashing his boxy smile, playing his part of the perfect host.

The guests were confused if they had to offer their condolences or wishes. It was very awkward for you, the little rip in your heart deepening with each guest’s flustered greeting.

Wow. Everyone pretended as if Yoongi never existed. As if he had never been killed. Killed by the man who danced through the halls as if he were the epitome of innocence.

Hoseok took your hand, leaning in to whisper.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I wish I could kill Taehyung.”

You blinked away the tears.

“Yeah, so do I.”

The sound of a spoon tapping a wine glass cut through the chatter.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please!”

Everyone stopped chatting and looked expectantly at Taehyung’s uncle, who was all smiles.

“I’d like to say what a fine boy Taehyung is, deciding to take Y/N under his wing, after the terrible misfortune that befell her.” He raised his voice to a higher note. “Especially because he didn’t want her child to be fatherless.”

If you ever had the power to vanish, you would have loved to use it at that moment. There were several gasps and turned heads that looked your way.

“Congratulations, to the new couple!”

Taehyung’s uncle raised his glass, and scattered applause sounded, and grew louder as people digested the news.

Taehyung stood with his head bent, a shy smile painting his cheeks pink.

That devil.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Going through the whole ordeal of the wedding was emotionally taxing. Every little thing about the ceremony reminded you of the gummy-smiled beautiful man you had married with so much love. When Taehyung slid the ring on your finger, you felt a wave of nausea that certainly wasn’t related to your pregnancy. He lowered his head to kiss your knuckles, loving the way the beautiful cushion-cut diamond adorned your pretty hand.

As you were walking out, trying not to cringe at Taehyung’s grasp on the small of your hip, a woman stumbled and dropped her glass, splashing wine all over the front of your dress.

“Oh! I am so sorry!”

Your brain couldn’t get irritated enough to lose your temper. Not when a man had already forcibly married you and assassinated your darling Yoongi’s character just before your eyes.

“It’s alright, Na Yeon.”

Taehyung waved her away, not angry in the least. He then leaned in to whisper in your ear:

“I’m going to rip that dress off your body anyway.”

The ride to his mansion was the longest. You had been living there, yes, but as Mrs. Min. You had hidden behind that name as if it were a consecrated circle. But this time, you were going as Taehyung’s bride. Nothing was going to stop him from claiming you.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Kim,” Taehyung sang to you as the car pulled into the driveway.

“Taehyung-“

He laid his slim finger on your lip, shushing you.

“Call me Tae.”

You scoffed in disbelief.

“You really think I’d call you that? What, do you think I love you?”

He grinned happily.

“You do. You just don’t accept it yet.”

There was a battle of stares and you turned on your heel, stomping away to change out of the stupid wine-soaked wedding dress.

It was confusing when you stopped outside the bedroom door. Because the knob wouldn’t turn. You were fiddling with it for a good five minutes when Taehyung’s chuckle fell in your ears.

He was leaning against the banister, a set of shiny keys in his hand.

“It’s customary to give the lady of the house all the keys,” he drawled, twirling the silvery loop that jangled in his hand. “Our bedroom is upstairs, Mrs. Kim. Newly decorated just for us.”

Irritated, you plucked the keys out of his fingers, huffing your way up to the damned bedroom. When you threw the door open, you understood that he was telling the truth.

The whole room was painted in pastel cream colors, books and music stacked neatly on the glass shelves. There was a huge closet, with mirrors for doors. The closet directly overlooked the giant white bed. Rose petals were strewn across the bed to make a big flower heart.

You knew he was behind you when you heard the brisk step of his shoe.

“Like it?”

You could almost hear his smile in those words.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The petals stuck onto your thighs as you rolled out of bed. Taehyung was sleeping, his chest pressing against the bed, his arm strewn over a pillow. His rhythmic breathing confirmed that he was asleep.

You shuddered at the shrunken petals, crushed under the weight of your bodies. Taehyung’s dark hair fanned over his arm, and you could see his veins bulging underneath his skin. So strong. Yet, he hadn’t thrown himself at you as you had feared.

In fact, he had gone straight to shower upon entering the new bedroom. You had changed into shorts. Strangely, all your long night pants were missing from the new closet.

Taehyung hadn’t made any sudden moves. He had emerged from the bathroom, stood before the closet-mirrors, tightened the cords of his pajamas, and turned to you.

You had been absolutely sure that you were going to be claimed harshly. But he had simply knelt down, both hands on either side of you, and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. Accompanied by the distinct sniff of his habitual smelling of your hair. And then he had risen up and gone to his side of the bed.

Sneaking a look at the man sleeping across the bed, you couldn’t understand why he hadn’t thrown himself at you forcibly. Had he not done it in the glass room?

The bedside clock ticked on, and you decided to pay your parents a visit. You hadn’t been to see them in a long time, ever since Yoongi had started having money troubles. The last time you had visited them, you were Mrs. Min. Something inside you just wanted to get away from the sudden overload of being married to your husband’s killer. Your mind craved something to keep you from going insane. Something that was a constant in the troubled times of uncertainty.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Months ago

Yoongi was at home, all alone. An empty whiskey bottle was lying on the table, rolling to the sides a teeny bit every now and then. He couldn’t believe he had gotten into so much trouble. All those years of hard work his parents and grandparents had put into the Min Group, all the effort, it was all falling apart. Because of him. The heir who wrecked the family. He could almost see the headlines in the newspaper.

His breath was probably smelling like whiskey. You would find out. He sighed.

You. Beautiful, gorgeous, wonderful you. Why had things gone so bad? Why did he ever trust Wo Bin, that bastard?  A thousand questions raced in his mind, the drunken haze making them even louder. How could he ever tell you that he had let you down? That he had let his entire family down?

He glanced at the digital clock on the counter. 3 pm. You would be home soon. Good gosh, was it Wednesday already? Kim Taehyung had threatened to show up at the Min house if he didn’t pay up by Friday. What was he going to do in such little time?

A clang of the doorbell startled him. You carried your own key. Who else was at the door?

Yoongi stood up and the headrush made him stumble around a bit. When he finally opened the door, a delivery girl was standing outside. She was carrying a bouquet of lilies. Lilies. They were your favorite. He was confused. Who sent you lilies at your home?

“Delivery for Mrs. Kim?”

Yoongi stood stunned. What the hell?

“You’ve got the wrong address.”

He tried to shut the door, but the girl persisted in a shrill voice.

“A person called Y/N? Does she live here?”

“Yeah- why…?”

The girl thrust the bouquet in his hands, grinning cheerfully.

“Then these are for her.”

She hopped away, leaving him standing at the porch, wondering what in the world just happened.

When Yoongi went back in, his gaze fell on the little card attached to the bow on the stems. It read:

‘To the future Mrs. Kim.

All the love, KTH.’

The words made Yoongi so angry that his fingers started shaking alarmingly. There was a band of sweat under his collar, even though the AC was on full blast. Anger coursing through his veins, Yoongi clawed at the card and tore it to pieces. He had never been so insulted in his life.

Outside, the delivery girl dialed a number and waited for the man to pick up.

“I delivered the flowers to him, Mr. Bin.”

She paused to listen.

“Yeah, he was alone.”

Yoongi was on his way to dump the flowers in the trash can when his phone rang. Swearing under his breath, he threw the bouquet on the counter and picked up.

“Min Yooooongiii…”

The deep booming voice drawled in his ear. Yoongi felt his cheeks heat up. Sweat was beginning to trickle down his forehead.

“Quit playing your games with me, Taehyung.”

There was a throaty chuckle on the other end of the line.

“Do you think your wife will like the lilies?”

“I swear I’ll-“

“I am sure she received another delivery at her studio.”

Yoongi went mute. What did the card on that one say? He started panicking.

“I’ll fucking kill you, Kim Taehyung.”

The caller laughed in a way designed to specifically irritate Yoongi.

“We’ll see. Remember you only have till Friday to pay up.”

The line disconnected and Yoongi was left fuming, unable to collect his thoughts. He needed alcohol. Something. Anything. Just to douse the white-hot fire burning in his chest.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

“Mrs. Min?”

You had moved into the new studio only a couple months back. You primarily operated from home, but the studio was needed when you met other clients. Yoongi had set you up with a beautiful studio complete with hand-picked designers who assisted you.

“Yes?”

“Miss Yung is requesting to meet you tomorrow, for lunch.”

You looked at the calendar. Thursday was when you always went to see your parents. But Yung Min-Ji was a wonderful client, and you did have a lot to discuss with her about the styling of her new condo.

“Tell her I’m available.”

“But your usual schedule-“

You smiled lightly.

“I’ll go today instead. No worries.”

It wasn’t a sentiment to go only on Thursdays. It just happened to be that your schedules were light on that day of the week. You glanced at the time. 2 pm. You could use some fresh air.

There was a cool breeze when you stopped by the florist to get your mom’s flowers- carnations. You were walking absent-mindedly, coming to a stop in front of the headstone. You looked at the grave, confusion creasing your eyebrows.

There was a beautiful bouquet of white carnations laid neatly on each of your parents’ graves. The flowers were fresh as if someone had just laid them out. But no one was around. You were the only living person in the cemetery. You knelt down, finding a pool of molten wax. It was hard to the touch. Someone had come by earlier. Further inspection showed that both graves had indeed had carnations and one small lit candle on them. But, they were left by whom?

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

The sound of gravel crunching under the tires of your car woke Yoongi up. His head was throbbing. He held his head, steadying himself before getting up.

“Baby, I’m home!” your melodic voice chirped at the door.

Before he even got to hug you, he was met with your screeches, as you were hollering in excitement. You were jumping up and down in his arms, eyes shining in delight.

“Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongiii-yaahhhh,” you crooned, grinning eagerly, “The flowers- was that you?”

There was a catch in his throat while Yoongi racked his brain.

“Uh- yes. Liked them?”

You swung yourself on his arms, giggling.

“Like? I loved them!”

Oh shit. He remembered the forgotten lilies on the counter. He had meant to throw them away. Damn. How would he explain them?

“Y/N,” he whispered, catching hold of you. “Go on and shower, I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, suddenly transported back to reality.

“Yoongi- you smell of whiskey.”

He turned his back to you, advancing in swift steps to grab the cursed lilies.

“I’ll be back.”

You made your way to the bedroom, mind still buzzing in happiness. You hadn’t even looked at the lilies.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Present day

The soil was wet under your shoes, from all the dew. The guards had shut up and let you leave on foot, without insisting on approval from their boss. Fucking privilege of being Mrs. Kim, ugh.

The faint smell of cut grass kissed your nostrils as you walked absently. It was still early in the morning, and the cool air helped ease your feverish tension. A man was raking leaves near your parents’ graves.

You walked faster, reaching his side just in time to see a bouquet of shrunken white carnations, withered and sad. There was molten wax on the cold marble, just like there had been before. The man sank to his knees, scraping off the wax gently. He didn’t even look your way.

But the flowers and candles? Who was it?

“Excuse me, um, sir?”

He raised his head, one good eye looking expectantly at you, while the other was clouded with cataract.

“Yes, miss?”

You gestured towards the graves.

“Those flowers… do you know who-“

“Aye, them flowers,” he shook his head, “I don’t know nothin’ about who leaves them.”

You crinkled your forehead.

“But you were cleaning the wax, so I-“

“Aye, miss. I been paid to keep these two graves clean. Good money for an odd job.”

Your heart started fluttering wildly.

“Paid? By whom?”

He made a stern face as if he were concentrating.

“Dunno. I been paid to take care of the graves as long as I live.”

He resumed scraping the wax, talking slowly.

“Man paid five grand, one time. Said ‘em graves should be kept spick and span.” He paused to turn around self-consciously. “He said he be checking on me, makin’ sure I ain’t skipped town with them money.”

You didn’t know what to think. It was a weird piece of information to process.

“How long since he paid you, sir?”

He closed his eyes, maybe he was thinking.

“Four years? Maybe five-ish,” he said when he finally opened them.

“Miss, tell him I be doing the work all right!”

The man hollered at your retreating back, nervous that you were spying on him.

You nodded, walking rapidly away. It was incomprehensible. It was a dream. Yes. You had probably dreamt it up. You would wake soon and find your husband’s killer draped all over you.

When you returned gloomily to the mansion, Taehyung was lounging on the sofa, flicking through the pages of a business magazine. You ignored him and made straight for the bedroom. It was only when you hit the shower that you remembered what day it was. Thursday.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I’m going back to work.”

Taehyung lowered his glass, eyelashes almost dusting the rim of the glass.

“Doing what?”

You folded your hands, staring him down.

“Designing homes and offices.”

He grinned, sipping juice innocently as you tapped your foot in impatience.

“And who do you think wants Mrs. Kim to design for them?”

You hadn’t forgotten that the title alienated you from the rest of the elite. But hadn’t you a uniqueness of your own? You were sure they wouldn’t discriminate you. They were all your friends and Yoongi’s, weren’t they?

“I have friends.”

He took another long sip, smacking his lips just to annoy you.

“No, baby, you don’t. To them, you’re nothing but a traitor.”

“I’m not.” You were sure that he was just manipulating you into his twisted theories.

He tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“Don’t believe me?” He thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, extending it to you. “Go on, try calling someone.”

Your instinct was to dial Hoseok’s number. But you knew he would stay by your side forever. Calling him would be like mistrusting his friendship. You thought hard. Maybe you could call Mrs. Park.

You dialed her number feverishly, hoping she would pick up. You didn’t know you were holding your breath until the line clicked and a voice spoke out:

“Yes? Mrs. Park here.”

“Oh hello, Mrs. Park, I’m Y/N, how ar-“

She cut you off swiftly.

“Y/N? What is it, child?”

You nervously looked at Taehyung out of the corner of your eyes. He was leaning back, a bored look on his face as he blew raspberries. Twisting the hem of your tee, you chuckled consciously.

“I was wondering if you knew anyone who’s looking to-,” you licked your dry lips, “You know, to redo their apartments and stuff.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Ah Y/N, I wish I could help you. But you know, Jaewon found a new designer who specializes in Earth tones and my daughter says it’s the craze right now, so-“

“I see.”

Mrs. Park heaved a deep sigh.

“So, yeah, everyone is more interested in following that trend, naturally,” She was rambling to neutralize the awkwardness, “Besides, you’re pregnant and… I hope you don’t mind, dearie.”

“No, Mrs. Park, it’s fine.”

“Call me if you want anything, Y/N.” More like ‘Don’t disturb me again, Y/N.’

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You couldn’t bear to look at the gloating face that smirked at you. He was right. Everyone loved you only when you had been a Min. But as soon as Yoongi died, their allegiance had crumbled to dust.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to hate them, though. You had married Taehyung just months after Yoongi died. Married Kim Taehyung, of all people. It was a wonder that Mrs. Park had even picked the call.  

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Every morning, you stood before the mirror, gazing at your belly. There was no significant bump, but you could just feel the little piece of Yoongi stir inside you. It made your heart sing. How happy Yoongi would have been! How wonderful life would have been with him! Raising your child together, loving each other, looking into each other’s eyes, watching your skin sag and wrinkle; growing old, but your love never lessening.

It was ironic that every day felt like an eon with Taehyung. You were in constant tension around him, like an elastic band stretched to its maximum limit. Even his slightest moves made you nervous. If he reached over for salt, you were left trembling. If he walked out of the shower in his boxers, your heart raced. Everything about him kept you on edge, scared that he would pounce on you without a moment’s notice.

Things came to a head the next Tuesday. You were getting ready to go out for your doctor’s appointment. Taehyung emerged from the shower, rubbing the towel against his wet hair as he walked to the closet mirrors, standing next to you.

His studied your yellow floral dress, only the slightest hint of belly was proof that another human was growing inside you. A tight thread of jealousy snapped inside Taehyung. Yoongi had made love to you, cummed in you, leaving you pregnant. He fumed in jealousy, getting into his pants and picking out his shirt.

He was adjusting his tie when he saw you swirl the tube of lip balm. The same brand you had used for years, lending that delicious glossy sheen on your lips that kept haunting him in his dreams. His tie was left forgotten, and he reached his hand out to gently pull you closer. The sudden rigidity of your body reminded him of a startled kitten.

“What, babe?” He crooned, drawing you nearer. “Go on, wear it.”

When you didn’t comply, he plucked the tube out of your fingers, smearing a glossy coat of lip balm on your lips. He could see the visible heaving of your chest as you struggled to maintain your composure.

Pinning you with your back against the closet mirror, he dipped his head to ghost his breath over your lips. The fruity smell made him go crazy.

Without warning, his tongue licked a hot trail over your upper lip, following the natural curve of your cupid’s bow. He smacked his lips, groaning in lust, and went in to savor your lower lip too.

“Your lips look better with my saliva, baby,” he murmured, gently nibbling on your lips and sucking on the plump soft flesh.

He was heady with need, nibbling harder and pushing himself closer against you. When you tried pushing against his chest, he got mad.

“How long do you think I’ll wait? Huh?” His voice was thick in a mix of anger and want. “Think I’d just fuck my hand forever?”

Your throat felt hollow and itchy when you voiced out:

“I don’t want to-“

His face crumpled in anger.

“Well, too bad, because I want to.”

Still in his pants, he thrust his clothed crotch into your pelvis, the floral skirt allowing him to feel the mound between your legs. He used his knee to keep your legs spread, while he went on thrusting against you. The friction made him curse out loud. One of his hands sneaked to catch hold of your throat, and he nestled his forehead against your shoulder blade, never stopping his thrusts.

His moans grew louder, quicker, and more intense. He bit the soft skin on your shoulder as he reached his climax. He panted in your ear, deep breaths reverberating through his body. With a heavy moan, he licked the bite mark and straightened his back, watching you warily.

Your eyes were closed, face frozen and impassive.

He hadn’t been able to control himself. When he thought about it, he hadn’t even touched his dick once, and yet his seed was all over his underwear. That was how much you affected him.

When he pushed off of you, you still hadn’t opened your eyes.

“Thought I’d change,” he drawled lazily, biting his lip. “But on second thought, I’ll go to work in my creamed pants. It’ll remind me of you all day.”

A drop of salty water rolled down your closed lid.

There were only sounds of him moving around, grabbing his phone, keys and stuff, and then silence.

He hadn’t even touched a button on your dress. But you had never felt so open and vulnerable in your entire life.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung was in a serious discussion with his board when the intercom rang. He threw an angry glance at Na Yeon, who bowed so deep he could see her cleavage clear as day.

She hurried to answer, looking at him beseechingly.

Taehyung did not like his meetings interrupted. Calls were always screened while he was in discussion. Only an important person or an important matter could bypass the screening.

“What?”

“I am to put it on speakerphone,” Na Yeon replied meekly.

“Do it then.” He was losing his patience.

“Kim Taehyung, you fucking son of a bitch!”

Everyone in the boardroom was startled, looking at each other in panic.

“How dare you take advantage of me like that? You insufferable, disgusting prick!”

Taehyung leaned back in his chair, playing with his pen.

“You miserable bag of shit, I swear I’ll cut your balls off!”

Taehyung drummed his knuckles on the desk, waiting for the tirade to stop.

“You are the vilest asshole on earth!”

The line went dead, and a stunned silence prevailed in the room. Taehyung rose again, going back to the whiteboard. He huffed at the mute people staring at him. He didn’t lose an ounce of his cool.

“So, let’s pick up where we left off…”

After everyone left, Na Yeon stayed back to apologize. Taehyung noticed that there was a beauty mark on her chest, right near the button of her blouse. Well, it wouldn’t have been visible if she had buttoned up her blouse. Maybe she felt sexy. Whatever. He didn’t really care.

“I’m sorry about the phone call, Mr. Kim.”

“It was nothing.” He shrugged it off, he wasn’t very bothered.

She continued unmindful of his disinterest.

“I should have tried to cut the call, I shall screen her next-“

His features suddenly flashed with annoyance.

“She is my wife. She should never be screened. Besides, she has every right to yell at me.” He sneered at Na Yeon as he bit out his words. “You don’t have any right to cut my wife’s call.”

With that, he stormed out of the boardroom, leaving his secretary shocked into silence.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

That evening, when Taehyung returned home, you were in the sitting room, legs crossed. Your mouth was set in a straight line. You were giving off a stubborn aura, and Taehyung fought the smile that threatened to curl his lips up.

“Aren’t you gonna kiss your husband, Mrs. Kim?”

The hot glare didn’t alarm him in the least.

He loosened his tie, sighing in that deep voice of his. It made the hair on your arms stand up. He settled down on the couch, just next to you.

“I enjoyed the telephonic love note today,” he said, fiddling with his cufflinks. He proceeded to unbuckle his belt.

“Especially because my pants were crusted with cum.” He threw his belt on the floor. “Thanks to you.”

You jumped to your feet, wagging a finger at him, screeching in mutiny.

“Don’t ever do that again, you scumbag.”

“Why not?” Mock surprise danced on his face. “Didn’t you agree to marry me?”

“I didn’t agree to be violated, Kim Taehyung.”

He puffed out his cheeks, disinterested.

“You didn’t leave me any other choice.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Did he expect you to jump on his lap and love him? After he snatched everything you loved away from you? Was he insane?

You threw your arms up, scoffing incredulously.

“How on Earth do you think I’ll ever love you?” The very idea made you gag. “After you killed my husband? Do you have no regret?”

He scanned his fingernails, pouting his lips in mock hurt. His voice was soft.

“I didn’t kill him on my own.”

“What?” The tic on your mouth made your face twitch. “What the fuck are you saying?”

He lifted his eyes to meet yours.

“Everything I did was because I loved you. For you.”

You stared at him, no words coming to mind. You had been sure that you were only the spoils of the war between his family and Yoongi’s. You didn’t believe for one second that Taehyung loved you.

“When you think about it, the reason I killed him was you.”

Your jaw dropped. The sputtering of your mouth made it impossible to frame comprehensible words.

“Me?”

“Mmhmm. In a sense, you killed Yoongi.”

No, no. this wasn’t happening. You had never done anything to hurt Yoongi. He was your love, your precious baby. No, Taehyung was babbling nonsense.

“Shut up,” you whispered, voice shaking.

He smirked at you.

“Think, baby. He wouldn’t have died if you had said ‘Yes’ when I asked you nicely.”

Memories of that fateful day at his office, clad in pajamas and feeling his bulge pressing against you came tumbling back.

It was a struggle to find your voice. “No.”

“Accept that you killed him, Y/N.”

Your vision blurred with tears and you repeated again, “No.”

A shit-eating grin spread on his face. He unzipped himself, sliding into a more comfortable position.

“Would you rather say you killed him or suck my cock?”

The first drop rolled down your cheek, and he repeated his question, voice darker and laced with lust.

You grasped for words. “Don’t do this to me.”

Your plea made him impatient. He wanted the cold war to end already. How long were you going to mourn Yoongi? He didn’t really want to fuck you when you were heavy with that man’s child.

“Either suck my cock or admit that Min died because of you.”

He waited with bated breath, observing the whirlpool of emotions flashing on your face. And then, to his utter delight, you wordlessly sank to your knees.

He unzipped his pants, giddy with excitement. Your face was devoid of emotion. The tears had stopped, leaving stains on both your cheeks. He waited for you to reach and touch him. When it didn’t happen, he lifted his hips off the couch, annoyed.

“My cock isn’t gonna pop into your mouth on its own, babygirl.”

Nothing.

He reached out and grabbed your head, pulling you in so your nose was against his clothed dick. He felt like he would burst at the feeling. He moaned out as he rubbed your face against him, the groans coming out harsh and strained.

He couldn’t wait for you to take him out, so he fished himself out of his boxers, grazing the tip against your lips. The blunt disgust on your face only made him even hornier, and he coated all his pre-cum onto your lips.

“Fuck, Y/N, my cum looks better on you than my saliva does.”

He pressed the sides of your jaw to pucker your mouth open, placing himself inside your warm mouth.

“Go on, baby. Suck.”

He caught your eyes and added in a dangerous tone, “Don’t you dare bite, I’ll fucking kick that bastard to death.” He looked ominously at your belly. He knew your sore point.

Swallowing your pride, you let his muscle glide in and out of your mouth.

“That’s not sucking, babygirl.”

Your spat at him in fury. “Fucking suck yourself.”

He made as if to kick your midsection, and you screamed in alarm. The tips of his toes made slight contact with your ribs and you yelled for him to stop.

“Stop it, stop it, don’t,” you never wanted to sob in front of him, but it just happened out of your control.

“Well, suck it then. And don’t close your eyes.”

You worked on him robotically, trying to trample down the sick guilt that rose up in your chest with each bob.

He groaned and growled, cursing at the sensation of your velvety tongue. He wouldn’t mind if he died and went to heaven. Before he even knew it, he was close to his release. He panted out, cumming hard into your mouth.

You remained in position, not attempting to swallow. He knew you were going to spit it out as soon as you humanly could. His fingers closed around your neck.

“Swallow. Now.”

The pressure slowly increased, threatening to choke you. Your delirious brain conjured a coroner’s report. Cause of death: Choking on cum.

Reflexively, your body fought by opening and closing your pharynx, effectively making you swallow his slimy essence.

Taehyung felt the bob of your throat, his chest puffing up with pride. He lifted you up gently, holding onto the nape of your neck. He gazed at your glistening cupid’s bow, and slowly pressed his lips on yours.

He had never seen your naked breasts, but that could wait. He was already swimming in rabid delight.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Thank you for agreeing to do this interview, Mr. Kim,” the man said, setting up his notepad and pen.

Taehyung grunted in answer. His mind was somewhere else. He had been in a fight with you over names. He had wanted you to officially change your family name. But you had refused. He hated the Min that rang along with your name. It made him want to puke when someone ever addressed you that way.

“I will not change my name,” you had said, stubbornly set in defiance.

He adored your stubborn trait, but when it came to matters involving that damned Min Yoongi, he hated your obstinacy.

“You fucking will.”

“Make me.” You had folded your hands, indicating that you would not be swayed.

Taehyung was at his office, thinking of ways to coerce you into taking his name. That was when the reporter arrived for a quick interview.

The man started off with questions about Taehyung’s business, his financial turn over and assorted boring stuff, which he answered robotically.

Out of nowhere, the question popped up, making him raise his eyebrows mildly.

“Is it true that Mr. Min and you were friends?”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

“Of course, we were.”

“But, Mr. Kim, a lot of people expressed surprise at your claim of being friends with him.”

“People like who?”

“People who thought you married Mrs. Min a bit too soon.”

Taehyung snapped in annoyance: “She’s Mrs. Kim now.”

“Exactly my point, Mr. Kim.”

Maybe you would consider changing your name if he compromised. But how?

“Well, Mr. Kim?”

“Huh?” Taehyung had a hard time not thinking of you. “I wanted to help her out, especially after he deserted her, while she was pregnant.”

“How did you know she was pregnant? You testified in court that you didn’t know her too well.” The man leaned forward eagerly. “How did she consent to marry you so soon?”

Taehyung could smell a bait from a mile away. The man wasn’t interested in him after all. He was scoping out facts about you.

“What is it that you want?”

His tone made it clear that he knew what was going on. The man cut to the chase abruptly.

“Did you kill Mr. Min?”

Taehyung swiveled on his chair, taking his sweet time.

“Yes. I killed him.”

The abrupt admittance started his opponent, making him open and close his mouth like a goldfish. When he saw how flustered the man was, Taehyung continued:

“You got your answer, what more do you want to know?”

“But- but why did you –” the man was bewildered. “Mrs. Min, she was on trial, you testified against her.”

“Yes, I did.”

“She could have gone to prison.”

“Right again. Don’t beat around the bush.”

“Was it-” the man swallowed, “-an affair? Did you both plot to kill Mr. Min?”

Taehyung laughed. How he wished that had been the case. He would have been spared a lot of trouble if that were true.

The man wiped his forehead nervously.

“What are you laughing about?”

“Nothing, I’m just imagining how your head would look like on a stake.” Taehyung smiled fondly. “You know, my children would happily play with it.”

Children. Name. Maybe he could compromise on that bastard child’s name? Would that make you think again?

Taehyung’s attention snapped back to watch the man gulp several times, obviously shaken.

“So, did you get the answers you wanted?” He exhaled lightly, adding, “My secretary has your name and contact details, my men would pay you a friendly visit if you blabbered anything anywhere.”

“I- yes, I understand.” The man got up in a hurry. “Please excuse me.”

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

When the reporter left the building, his phone vibrated with a message.

‘Any news?’

He called the sender.

“There’s nothing to report. I’m pretty sure neither Mr. Kim nor Y/N had anything to do with Mr. Min’s disappearance.”

The call ended, and Namjoon sighed. He knew something had happened. Something had gone wrong.

But the reporter couldn’t glean anything from Taehyung. The seeds of doubt took root in his mind. Was it possible that he had imagined the conspiracy? What if there had been no conspiracy and Yoongi really had fled?

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I have a proposal.”

You looked up from your curled kitten position on the deckchair, overlooking the pool. You were cross that Taehyung had interrupted your attempt at sketching Yoongi.

“Not interested.”

He pranced forward, plucking the sketchbook and tossing it away. The splash of it hitting the water sent droplets flying up and raining on your feet.

“What the hell d’you do that for?”

The reflection of the sun in the ripples of the pool made his face light up and sparkle. He placed both his hands on the armrests, trapping you.

“You will take my name.”

“Forget it.”

“In return,” he whispered softly, “You get to name your baby whatever the fuck you want.”

“I am the mother and I don’t need you to offer me what’s already my right.”

He butted your forehead with his own, clucking his tongue in impatience.

“You really don’t want your baby to see the light of day, do you?”

The scowl on your face was reflexive. It was a bother that he always used your baby as an excuse to get his way.

“Fuck off, Taehyung.”

He threw himself bodily on you, willing a strangled gasp to escape your lips. He spread your arms and upper body to align them with the chair, opening your torso up to him. He was already panting, cursing out as he spread your legs with his knee.

“C’mon now, babygirl, stop being so stubborn.”

He sunk his whole weight onto you, crushing your body underneath him.

The graphite pencil you had been using to sketch was still in your fingers. Mustering up all your strength, you dove it into the back of his neck.

He hissed in pain, jerking involuntarily and pulling the pencil off your grasp. When you struggled to let it go, he placed a well-aimed slap on your cheek, making you freeze in shock.

“You little brat,” he spat out, still pissed about his neck. His palms made contact with your cheeks twice more, sending your face jerking left and right.

“I’ll teach you to stab me, you little-“

He bunched both your hands by the wrist, holding them up above your head. His other hand sneaked between your legs, pushing your thighs apart.  When you tried to wriggle and throw him off, his knee dug into your midsection.

“Want to destroy what we have?” He sunk his knee a little deeper. “Huh, sugar?”

His finger was rubbing circles on your core, making you bite your lips from moaning out.

“Fuck, I’m permanently hard around you.”

His hard length was obvious in the tent of his pants. But as before, he humped against you, not unzipping himself. The friction was making him go wild. He thrust his hips into yours, the knee remaining ominously on your navel.

“Ah ssibal,” he cursed, throwing his head back, consequently making his long dark hair flip and reveal his glistening forehead.

“Oh… Oh.. I’m cumming,” he breathed out, spasming violently all over you, digging himself out of you and spilling his cum all over your clothed belly.

“Ew, Taehyung, you bitch, you’re fucking disgusting,” you screamed, pushing against his chest even as he shuddered in the aftermath of his orgasm. He smiled dumbly, panting out in ragged breaths. He placed his mouth near your ear, tickling your earlobe with his hot breath.

“I want to cum inside you.”

He sighed deeply as if he was thinking quietly about it, before adding:

“Soon.”

He pushed off you, grinning as he ruffled his hair back into place. Whistling softly, he walked away, leaving you trembling in a mix of shock and anger, looking down at your ruined dress.

He had cummed exactly on your belly, like he had carefully meant to.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The annual costume ball invitations reached your house, one addressed to Mr. Kim and one addressed to Mrs. Min. Taehyung had torn the envelope into pieces before handing you the card. It was probably a snide attempt to snub Taehyung and you knew that it had worked, judging from the annoyance on his face. You wondered if the hosts had intended to send you late invitations, because the ball was slated to happen that night.

You threw it on the coffee table, not caring in the least about some stupid party. But Taehyung had other ideas.

“We’re going tonight. Get ready.”

If the stuck-up Min empaths thought they had made a statement by sending two fucking invitations, they would have to think again. He would show them what fools they were. You were his Mrs. Kim.

The burgundy dress had a cowl neckline, which he absolutely loved. He had picked it out carefully, mind giddy with excitement on how perfect it would look on you. Finally, a day had come for the glamorous dress to do you justice, flattering your body, much to the envy of those losers.

“Wear the burgundy dress I bought you. And the studded heels.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He opened his closet, apparently searching for something. When he turned, a classic Tiffany box was nestled in his palm. He opened it, and a sparkling silvery bracelet was reflected in your eyes, lending them a beautiful twinkle that made his heart sing.

Delicately, he placed it on the dresser.

“This will compliment you.”

He stood silent for a second, thinking if you would wear it on your own. Something told him you would just leave it sitting on the dresser forever.

“Here,” he took your hand in his, gently placing the bracelet on your wrist. He clasped it and admired the way it looked even more beautiful on you. To him, each fiber of your being was infinitely more precious than the rarest diamonds in the world.

He had never seen anyone more beautiful, and he wished not to. When you descended the porch steps, he felt like a footman taking out a princess on her ride. He was mesmerized by the simple yet graceful features that taunted him, inviting him in.

Taehyung had Wo Bin drive you both to the ball. Taehyung handed you a sparkling rhinestone mask, the wings around the eyes rising gracefully in showers of gemstones. The costume ball was essentially a masquerade, and he had gotten the best masks he could lay his hands on.

“Take my hand, remember, no silly behavior.” He briefly glanced at your belly, driving home his point.

“Stop fucking threatening me all the time, bitch,” you hissed, scowling when he responded with a lazy grin.

The entire ballroom was abuzz with people clad in their best clothes, complete with masks of every color, style, and material. Taehyung’s chest was stretched to the max with pride as he waltzed through the floors with the most beautiful woman that night on his arm.

A couple hours later, you were weary to the bone. “I’m tired, I wanna throw up.”

He rolled his masked eyes. “Right. Stay here, I’ll get you water.”

He turned around as an afterthought. “Want me to walk you to a bathroom?”

You shook your head, indicating you were fine enough to just sit.

“ ’Kay.”

He went off, leaving you seated in a comfortable chair.

He was, however, interrupted mid-way by a woman dressed in a jade green dress with a deep neckline that left almost nothing to the imagination. The Venetian mask lent an air of mystery to her ombre eyes.

“Mr. Kim,” her voice was hauntingly thick with desire.

She placed her index finger delicately against his tux, poking him. “I’ve been fantasizing about you for years.”

He couldn’t form a coherent comeback. He was a man who prided on never being tongue-tied while facing a woman. But the simple statement had such force that it knocked his thoughts out like bowling pins.

“Uh, excuse me, I have to-“

She traced her fingers on his arm, patting him slowly, whispering:

“Please stay.”

He couldn’t believe how tongue-tied he was. He flashed his left hand at her, declaring in a harsh tone:

“I’m sorry but I’m married. Very happily so.”

“Is that true, though?” Her voice dropped even lower. “You are married, yes, but have you been loved back? Why pine after a hopeless fruit while another aches for you?”

He shook his hand free, annoyed. Very much annoyed that she was stating the bitter truth that his heart refused to believe.

“Excuse me, I have to go back to my wife.”

“Maybe you could at least dance with me once?”

His jaw tightened.

“No, thank you.”

She pouted her crimson lips, sadness clouding her eyes.

“I thought so.” She touched his elbow with a smooth “At least a peck on the cheek for your admirer?”

He bent his neck, intrigued by the strange woman, but she took him by surprise, going instead for his lips.

Her tongue snuck out and outlined the curve of his upper lip before her mouth pressed against his. Startled, he took a step back and his gaze dropped to the cleavage she was generously offering. She giggled naughtily, winking at him. Damn the woman.

The hot feeling in his cheeks didn’t go away for a good five minutes, and he was still pink when he returned with the glass of water he had set out to get.

He frowned when he saw a tall man talking to you, bending in half to address you.

“You, you are just a gold-digging bitch, you whore,” the masked man was saying, just as Taehyung materialized behind him.

“Excuse the fuck, did you just fucking insult my wife?”

The man straightened up, turning to glare at Taehyung. His mask did nothing to hide who he was. The hooded eyes, the tall lithe frame, the rich timbre of voice, all screamed Kim Namjoon.

He dug his hands into his pockets, staring at Taehyung with menace.

“Yes, I called her out for jumping on another dick as soon as she could.” He focused his most hostile leer at Taehyung before adding “The dick being attached to you of all people.” He didn’t stop, spewing more hate as he addressed you:

“Are you sure the baby is Yoongi’s, Y/N? Did he ever know what a cunt you are?”

The anger was so hot that Taehyung felt like his brain would short circuit. He balled his fists, ready to shatter the mouth that had spoken so ill of you.

Before he could do any damage though, you grabbed hold of his hand, tugging at him harshly.

“Take me home, I feel sick.”

He sent Namjoon one withering glance and exhaled angrily. Namjoon would pay later. He would make sure of it. He guided you out, practically shaking in fury. He texted Wo Bin to meet both of you on the porch. He was zoned out, and you asked something that just flew out his ear. When you slapped his elbow, he caught your words just in time.

“Is that lipstick on your mouth?”

Taehyung creased his eyebrows, turning back to consider something. The masked woman, she had licked his mouth before kissing. It was a kink of his to lick your lips. How did she know that he loved doing that to you?

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The way Namjoon had spoken to you felt like a cold slap to the face. If that was what he thought, was that what everyone else thought of you too? The whole social circle of which you and Taehyung were a small intersecting arc, did it think you were a gold-digger too?

The shame enveloped and consumed you, the flames of hatred licking at your heart. Your entire life was ruined by Taehyung. Only he was responsible for all the mess. Everyone seemed to focus only on you. He was in the background like an innocent bystander; but all the while, he was the puppeteer who pulled all the strings, bending everything to his will.

A bitter cold war was brewing between you and him, growing in intensity by the second. You had avoided him for days, slipping like an eel whenever his footsteps sounded. Every night, you slept on the couch, only to wake up on your side of the bed in the morning.

It was hard to sleep. Because you were constantly worried that he would violate you while you were sleeping.

You didn’t know that Taehyung spent three-quarters of the night perched on the steps of the staircase, waiting for you to drift to sleep. He silently swooped in and carried you to bed each night, making sure to tuck you in comfortably.

A few weeks later, you dressed up in a loose black hoodie and attempted to sneak out for a walk. But just as always, he caught you. He had casually blocked you with an outstretched hand, looking at you oddly.

“What the heck are you wearing?”

You tried to force your way out, but man was he strong.

“Get out of my way, Taehyung.”

He blew out his cheeks, shaking his head in disapproval.

“That hoodie is the opposite of flattering on you, honey.”

Curling your fists, you hit him on his arm, trying to make him move.

“I don’t care, so let me go,” you hissed at him.

“I care about my wife’s fashion choices,” he replied, reaching out to grab the hoodie. But just as quickly, he drew his hand back in shock.

“What the…” he whispered, horrified, reaching his hand out again.

His fingers gingerly pressed against your belly, feeling the small bump that was evident to the touch. He started back in horror. It really was growing. The reality hit him like a harsh slap. Min’s child was really growing inside you.

In one swift motion, he gathered you up in his arms, deciding that he couldn’t waste any more time. He couldn’t wait forever.

Dragging you upstairs to the bedroom, he led you to stand by the bed. His face was ablaze with hot emotion, his dark eyes gleaming with fiery hunger. He shrugged his suit off in haste. Long slender fingers gripped your hoodie, lifting it up to reveal the soft protrusion he had touched earlier. He looked panicked, like a guy who had missed the last airplane bound home.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he breathed, gently trying to undress you. “Forgive me, I am out of time.”

He pressed kisses on the side of your neck, lifting the hoodie up inch by inch until the cups of your bra were visible.

“Oh, Y/N, I-“ his voice was strangled, “- I can’t,” his hands found purchase at the small of your back. “I can’t take you when you are ripe with his child, I can’t wait that long.”

He eased you out of the hoodie, holding your hands to prevent you from covering your bra-clad breasts. He had only entered you once, he hadn’t forced himself into you since the day Yoongi died.

It had been his desire to wait for you to want him. But nature always liked complicating things. He couldn’t bear to think that you would be heavy with child in a few months, and would be busily occupied with the baby for months after that. No, he had no choice.

He was sliding your pants off when you half-choked out: “You could just… let me go.”

The wetness of your cheeks broke his heart. But your words had hurt him more.

“No. No, I can’t. You are all I have.”

“You know that’s not true,” you whispered.

The pained look returned to his face.

“No. It should have been me.” He gestured to your belly. “That should have been mine.” A tear rolled down his cheek, and he sniffed. “It should have always been me.”

“Taehyung- “

His lashes were moist and he shook his head, not wanting to listen.

“You were meant to be mine. Don’t you see?” His haunted eyes were tender, his raw feelings on display just for you.

“Do you- do you even like me?”

You remained silent, nothing but underwear bridging the gap between you and nakedness. His face contorted in pain.

He shuddered and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling both your hands above your head and pinning them in position. His other hand gingerly traced the outline of your bra. He licked his lips, looking into your eyes as he dipped a finger between your breasts, running it along the elastic strap and leaving your skin riddled with goosebumps.

His finger continued running down your midriff, stopping at your belly button. He closed his eyes and pretended that the bump didn’t exist, hurrying to slip his hand into your undies. It fanned his ego to feel your wet folds.

“See, your body likes it, hm? Why do you rebel so much?”

He leaned down to sniff your hair, greedily inhaling the scent like a man dying of thirst. He removed the hand pinning yours with a warning squeeze. Just as quickly, his hands flew to your breasts. His touch was ever so tender. He gently kneaded the soft flesh, moaning out as a little bit of areola peeked out of your bra. The self-control snapped, and he pulled the cups down, exposing your squished breasts.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he sounded so raspy, “Fuck, you’re so goddamn beautiful.”

Like a man in a trance, he dipped his head in the valley of your chest, nestling there, letting out the weakest of whimpers. His fingers worked feverishly to get the damn bra off you. He threw it across the room, burying his head in your bosom with a contented sigh.

There was a stark contrast between you and him. He was fully clothed, and you were in only your undies, entire chest open to his view. It led you to feel even more weak and vulnerable. When your hand tried to shield your breast though, he caught it, his voice came out from between your soft mounds in a muffled whisper:

“Don’t.”

He gathered both your breasts in his hands, moaning thickly as he rubbed his face against them. His tongue found your nipple, giving tentative licks before full-on sucking on the nub. He was a passionate man, and your breasts were glistening with saliva by the time he was done worshipping them. His mouth let go of the nipple with a soft plop, the dark eyes focused on your own the whole time.

His tongue drew a line from the middle of your ribs down to your navel. He paused at the elastic band of your undies, working on tugging it down. But impatience got the better of him, and he cursed, ripping the fabric easily as if it were the weakest of paper. He touched the wet patch on the crotch and looked at you, dangling the ruined fabric above your forehead.

“See. Y/N? See how wet you are for me?”

You didn’t reply. He gripped your chin, yanking it so his breath fell directly on your mouth.

“Kiss me, Y/N.”

When you didn’t attempt to kiss him, he straddled your hips, crashing his mouth down on yours. But the kiss wasn’t passionate, nor was it anywhere near romantic. You just wouldn’t open your mouth and let his tongue in. He could have kissed a pole and gotten a better reaction than yours.

It kindled the embers of rage in his heart, and he undid his tie, tying it around your neck like a noose. His shirt and pants were still on, and he rolled the long end of the tie until the fabric started tightening around your neck.

“Up,” he said, tugging the tie and making your head rise from the bed a bit. Holding onto it like a leash, he pulled your upper body was hovering precariously above the bed, both your hands holding onto his shoulders lest you fall and snap your neck.

“Now,” he hissed, “Lick my tongue”

The tie-noose tightened around your neck, threatening to cut off your airflow. You hoisted yourself up, shaking as your sight started to blur.

“Can’t” you heaved, “breathe.”

The fabric didn’t relax one bit.

“Hurry up and lick my tongue then.”

You blindly slashed at the air to find his mouth. Right on the verge of blacking out, you thrust yourself at him, begging entry into his mouth with desperate licks. Once you felt the hot muscle, you lapped at it, and just as quickly, the tightness eased, making you gulp mouthfuls of him, your body struggling to get your respiration back to normal.

“You bast-“

He thrust himself at you again, muttering:

“Shh. Lick me again,” and dipping his tongue into your mouth.

He moaned, chest vibrating against yours with the intensity of his strangled groans. When he broke the kiss, a string of saliva connected your mouth to his, a big bead hanging in the middle, the weight making it drop and splotch on your thigh.

He leaned back working on his shirt buttons. They didn’t open fast enough, and he started ripping the buttons off, eyes locked on your nipples. When he tore the fabric away from his body, his whole wide chest was naked, save for a thin chain around his neck. It had what looked like a silver key for a pendant, you weren’t sure as it kept dangling with his every move.

He remained in his pants, gathering your body and pressing you against his chest. A strained moan escaped his lips, and he trailed kisses down your neck, past your shoulder blade. His tongue flicked out to reach places his lips couldn’t.

One hand cupped the slight hint of your bump, prodding gently but also warning you against doing anything stupid. He pulled your hand towards his crotch, placing it on his clothed bulge.

“See,” he moaned, “See what you do to me?”

He stroked his bulge with your hand, fighting the urge to close his eyelids and lose himself in bliss. He had been hard for so long. Too fucking long.

“Take me out.”

His whisper sent a shiver up your spine. But you didn’t move. You didn’t have a choice to stop it. But you had the choice to not comply.

He cursed, too impatient to reprimand you. He unzipped his pants, leading your hand to his hard dick. He closed his hand over yours, effectively jerking himself off with your hand.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” he threw his head back, snapping his eyes open just as quickly when you gripped his dick too tight. Intentionally, of course.

“What the fuck?” He pushed you onto your back, dragging you by the legs into position. All the tenderness had evaporated from his countenance.

“You really want to screw this?” He hovered his body over yours, menace evident in the curl of his lips. The squirming pissed him, and a swift slap landed on your cheek, accompanied by an angry “Fucking behave, Y/N.”

“Get off me,” you bit out, aware of the drool sliding down your chin.

“No,” he said, humping his dick against your pelvis. “You are mine. Don’t fight this. He’s not coming back. He’s dead.”

He saw the tears kindling, and added cruelly:

“Because of you.”

“Stop saying that,” you screamed, trying to knee him in the groin. But he only laughed.

“You always complicate things, Y/N. I only want to make love to you.” He sighed innocently. “But you just make it so difficult.”

His forearm dug into your neck, preventing your head from moving. His other hand snaked down to your soaked clit, rubbing circles on your sensitive pearl.

“Who was always a bitch in heat for Min’s dick, huh?”

The question left you speechless. He smirked.

“Who loved to ride his thigh and get her ass spanked?”

“Shut up, shut up.” you couldn’t think of any other reply. How did he know all of that?

He simply shrugged.

“Okay, sure. I’d rather fuck you than talk about your dead man.”

He really wanted to eat you out. But he knew you would kick him in the face if he tried to. Maybe he should get restraints before trying that. Besides, his dick was already aching with being hard for so long. He slid his pants off completely, getting in position, aligning himself with your entrance.

He placed his forearm against your belly, deciding it gave him better leverage that way. Looking down, he inched himself forward, watching in fascination as he disappeared into you, your bodies becoming one. Just like they had always been meant to be.

The silky walls were tight around him, and he held on for dear life. You were going to be the death of him.

“Fuck, ah, fuck,” his breath constricted, the finality of actually being inside your velvety folds driving him crazy in exhilaration. He set a fast pace, snapping his hips into yours as if his life depended on it.

“Tell me how it feels, baby,” he cooed, “to know you killed Yoongi for this cock.”

Your whole face burned in rage.

“No, you tell me, how it feels to know you killed a good man for a piece of pussy.”

He chortled, not slowing down in the least.

“Awesome, really,” he panted out, licking his lips as he kept thrusting. “I can kill a whole army for this pussy.” He was not ready yet to say ‘It’s not just your body, it’s you I want. The whole you.’

He pulled the tie around your neck, telling you to get on all fours.

“I can’t dumbfuck, I’m pregnant,” you spat out.

He simply flipped you over, crossing both your hands over your chest so you were kneeling on the bed, with his hands pressing your wrists against your breasts.

“Shit, baby, how are you so tight? Guess he never filled you like I do, huh?”

His tongue licked the back of your ears as he kept thrusting. You were doing your best to not make any sound. You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction.

“Tell me,” he panted, driving himself deeper, “Tell me I’m bigger than him.”

His finger slipped into the tie-noose, twisting the knot.

“Say it.”

You were sure he wouldn’t stop. Panic flooded your body, jumping into escape mode.

“Fine, you’re bigger.”

A dark chuckle rang throughout his chest, making your breasts bounce as aftermath.

“Be more specific, baby. Describe it.”

There was another tight twist, and you gave up.

“Your dick, it’ bigger, it’s- Fuck, I can’t breathe- It’s thicker, it’s longer, okay?”

He smiled into your skin. Gently loosening the tie, he kissed the light welts around your neck.

“Let me hear it again.”

“You’re bigger than him,” you repeated in defeat.

“Fuck yeah, that’s my girl. Cum around me, baby.”

His groans were loud and animalistic, like those of a man possessed. His pounding got frantic, rattling the headboard and eliciting curses from your parched throat.

God, how he wanted to fuck Min’s spawn out of you and fuck his seed into you instead! The thought sent him spinning into his climax, releasing hot ropes of cum into your tight walls. The growls from his chest chilled your blood. He held you incredibly tight against him, riding his wave out, clutching onto your ribs in passion.

The shivering sigh blew against your ears, and he gently pulled out, kissing down your shoulders and back as he did so. Your knees gave out, sending you collapsing down, but his hands caught you just in time.

When he had finished prodding and poking his fingers in your clit to feel his cum, he uttered in a ghost of a whisper:

“You cummed for me, baby.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Were you ready to kill Taehyung? To be frank, you didn’t really know. It was an idea that had crossed your mind millions of times. But taking another life was too horrible to even comprehend. On the other hand, it was a fact that he would continue to make your life hell.

It was a difficult decision, but one you had to face. Were you doomed to live forever with him? Take all his obsessed declarations of love for you? Live in constant fear that he would hurt your child?

Was it worth killing a human for peace? You looked down at your baby bump. He was going to be a terrible father to your baby. The orange canister by the lawn was just alluring. Was all the solution you ever needed in a can of garden pesticide?

The throbbing of your heart was so loud you were sure the guard could hear it. But now you were not just any woman. You were his boss’s wife. Hell, every guard in the fucking house addressed you respectfully.

“Mrs. Kim?” The man stepped towards you with a question on his eyebrows.

“I want the lawn to myself for some time.”

Usually, there were no guards by the pool. Taehyung would pluck their eyes out if any of them snuck up on you while swimming. But the lawn was a different story. There were a lot of guys walking around with guns. It surprised you to see them file out of the lawn like a bunch of disciplined kids.

But you knew their focus would be on you anyway. They didn’t serve you, they served Taehyung.

Making an elaborate show of tending to flowers and picking weeds, you loudly muttered at the gardener’s apparent failure to keep the flower beds weeded out. Kneeling down near the orange can, you unscrewed the lid with an air of ignorance.

“Foul smelling shit, what the hell is it?”

The can toppled over your dress, soaking the cotton. Just like you had expected, a man shot out of nowhere, hurrying to your side.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Kim?”

You batted your eyelashes inoocently at him.

“I- yes, I need to change. I think gardening and I don’t mix.”

He accompanied you inside, turning back to leave. Once upstairs, you nervously wrung out the poison from your soaked skirt.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“What’s that?”

Taehyung had asked sooner than you had expected. You feigned surprise at the question, looking over to where his eyes pointed.

“Oh, nothing.”

Much to your chagrin, he nodded and went back to tapping on his phone. What if he didn’t ask again? Well, you could try again later. Patience. You couldn’t get caught.

Getting up slowly, you danced your way to the fridge. You peeked at the contents, closing it with a sigh. Turning to look at the counter, you absently reached for the cup. You were cradling it in your hands, and just as you let your lips touch the rim, he raised his head.

“Coffee?”

You shook your head. “Protein shake.”

He placed his phone on the coffee table, gazing intently at you.

“Well, aren’t you going to drink it?”

“Oh, yes.”

You sipped from the cup, not minding his stare boring into your face. He leaned back, spreading his arms on the sofa. His face was unreadable. When your throat bobbed after the last bit of drink, he raised his eyebrows mildly.

“Done?”

You shrugged your shoulders, without answering. He considered your face for quite some time, before his curiosity got the better of him.

“So, should I call the ambulance?”

You bit back a grin.

“What for? I’m not in labor yet.”

He watched you suspiciously before giving up.

“I know about the pesticide.”

You stifled a yawn. “Of course you do. And?”

He knew you were smart. You were a fighter. There was no way you would drink a cup of poison to get away from him. The poison surely had been intended for him. But he had just watched you down the cup without flinching.

“And,” he said, face serious, “Why don’t you get on with it?”

“What exactly do you mean?”

His passive demeanor broke, leaving his face twisted in vulnerability.

“You want to kill me.” You flinched at the word ‘kill’.

“So, go on and kill me, Y/N.”

Your eyes met, and you reached for a cup wordlessly.

“Not a fresh cup. I want to drink from yours.” He pressed his fingertips together, watching you as you poured out milk. He hated coffee. And you knew. He saw you drop one sugar cube in, just like he liked. The warm flutter in his heart died just as quickly when he saw you reach into the spice cupboard, extracting a pill bottle.

You tipped the bottle and liquid fell out of it, rippling and disappearing in the small white whirlpool of milk. Without a word, your fingers reached for a spoon and stirred the cup. His stare was burning into your skin. Your own heart felt like lead, so heavy and drenched with guilt.

His fingers had a subtle tremor when he reached to accept the cup. Placing it on the coffee table, he smiled at you.

“I love you, Y/N.”

It was a lie, you were sure. He only wanted to ruin Yoongi. He never loved you.

There was nothing to say. You didn’t believe him.

He drew a sharp breath, meditating if he wanted to speak his mind.

“If I die in your hands, your baby and you will be left alone, Y/N. Penniless. But you will get your independence, yes.” He paused, a suspicious watery film glinting under his lashes. “You can be happy and raise your child on your own. But you will return to me in the end.”

The arch of your eyebrows creased your forehead, asking the question your lips failed to.

The smile reached his eyes, a manic shadow casting a fearsome look on his face.

“Whenever, wherever you die, you will be interred in the Kim crypt, just next to me. We will be together even in death.”

The entire breathing mechanism of your body stopped working.

“What? But that’s –“

He flowed on, seemingly uninterrupted.

“And Y/N, the place where Min Yoongi is buried, the secret, it will die with me.”

Without hesitating, he grabbed the handle and drew the cup to his lips. The warm milk touched his lips, the fumes from the poison overwhelming his nose.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Wavelength

Prompt: “I heard a rumour.” -- @challengingwords​ prompt #39

Pairing: Rowoon x female reader

Genre: office au / suggestive

Warnings: a bit of enemies to lovers except the relationship is not fully established.

Word count: 1492

“I heard a rumour,” Taeyang murmured to you as he sat down with haste. His eyes darted around to ensure it was safe enough to elaborate, soon scooting his chair closer to yours. “Apparently, we’re getting a new manager.”

“Nonsense,” you breathed, rolling your eyes in response. “I got told if there was ever a need for new management that I would be offered the role.”

“That’s what we all thought, but Penelope was just telling Jaeyoon that-”

“Rumours are just that,” you interjected firmly, your eyes travelling back to the computer screen in front of you. “Unless it’s based on factual evidence, there’s no point to buying into uncredited information.”

However, you were stunned when your boss Marion introduced a tall man to you all as your new manager the following Monday.

Your mind was reeling. As a senior member of staff, you had been priming for a promotion now for over two years. You had the skillset to become the manager of the department. You knew every person’s weaknesses and strengths to keep the working environment at its best.

You had been convinced it was just a stupid rumour.

So, when the introduction of Kim Rowoon was over, instead of watching the man head to his desk with Penelope and the other females fluttering about, you stormed into your boss’ office and placed your hands onto your hips.

“What’s this?”

“What’s what, Y/N?”

“You told me I would become manager. In fact, you told my entire team to consider me as that. Now they, and I, have to answer to someone else?”

Marion steepled her fingers together and let out a sigh. “I too answer to higher-ups, Y/N. My hands are tied. When the Chairman’s favourite nephew returned from-”

“Does he have the qualifications?”

“He seems adequate on paper.”

“This is ridiculous!” you whined, and Marion shrugged.

“What do you want me to do? Tell the Chairman that I have someone more capable for the job and that his favourite nephew shouldn’t be placed in charge of the department? I have three kids I need to feed, Y/N. Welcome to the corporate world. The good news is, Rowoon isn’t in charge entirely. On paper, yes, but I’d like you both to work together as a team. You’ll be getting a pay raise too. So essentially, it is the promotion you were aiming for.”

You snorted. “Except not one that allows me to rule on merits alone. I’m not angry at you, just the situation.”

“It might be something amazing. Give Rowoon a chance before you instantly pit him in the other corner of a boxing match, Y/N.”

It was hard to accept the dual leadership with Rowoon. For one, he had been overseas for the past five years, and the way he led the way was not how it worked here. It clashed with your approach to everything. Therefore, you were always tense in his company.

It only got worse when the new manager’s office was allocated, and you both had to share the space.

“Have you got the report on the Atticus account?” Rowoon asked from his desk, and you looked up at the man and frowned.

“You’re in charge of that account.”

“Yes, but your team cross-checked the numbers for me and were meant to run it past you.”

“My team? Aren’t we meant to be one whole unit? Stop assigning work to me that I’m not a part of from the beginning. If you got someone to run-”

“Okay! Thanks for the pep-talk, Y/N. It’s always a pleasure working with you,” he shot sarcastically as he walked out of the office, and you threw yourself back in your chair, seething at the interaction.

It wasn’t ever going to work between you with this tension.

You did try, the following week, to be less at his throat, but it was a hard pill to swallow answering to Rowoon’s commands. You had established too many well-oiled systems that were foreign to the man, and subsequently, he was relying on you to teach him everything from the ground up.

This meant a lot more overtime than you signed up for.

“Our Chinese is here,” Rowoon announced as he walked back into the office and placed the food delivery down on the small meeting table in the middle of the room.

Getting up from your desk and discarding your blazer, you smiled brightly. “Thank you!”

“Do you know you only seem to appreciate me when food is around?” he mentioned wryly, loosening off the tie around his neck before unbuttoning his shirt’s cuffs.

“Well, you do have good taste in food. I’ll give you that.”

“I’ll take whatever compliment you’ll give me, Y/N.”

You were midway in dishing out the food when you noticed the way Rowoon rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing his forearms. He seemed unaware of how stuck you were on his arms as he sat down across from you until you still hadn’t moved.

“Y/N?”

“Huh? Oh. Sorry, lost in thought.”

“About my arms?” he mused, and you snapped your gaze up to his eyes.

So, he was aware after all.

“What? No.”

“It’s okay. I found it difficult to speak on the phone earlier to Clare Neutronics with you twirling your hair around your finger absent-mindedly. We’re even.”

“You did? Even with what?”

Rowoon took his eyes off the food momentarily, his brows dipping before he smirked. “The tension between us is evident, Y/N.”

“I agree to a point. I don’t like the tension, but I think you’re construing it as a different type of friction than I view it as.”

“Really? I was certain there was mutual attraction between us.”

You laughed loudly and then paused, your eyes narrowing on the man before you.

Rowoon was undeniably attractive. He was a classic type of handsome, very gentlemanly in appearance. Had you not met as opponents, you probably would have spent more time admiring him than the little you had.

Staring back at you, Rowoon then smiled meekly. “I guess it’s just me then.”

“You’re attracted to me?”

“Do you want to really get into this with me, Y/N? Think about the position we’re in before you ask for further information. If you’re not already aware of it, this could complicate our working environment.”

“We’re fighting for the same role.”

“No, we’re not.”

You gaped at him. “We are! I was going to be promoted to manager, but you came along, the Chairman’s favourite nephew who stole the show!”

“So that’s why you’re bitter towards me. I’ll have you know I’ve worked my way up from the ground to get to here.”

“I know,” you agreed bitterly, sighing heavily. “I’m aware you have some skill.”

Rowoon pursed his lips together. “Some.”

“I admit, we’re slowly getting there together. This wasn’t how I imagined my promotion, though.”

“I guess we just don’t match the same wavelength in multiple areas.”

“You’re throwing out breadcrumbs for me to pick up intentionally now,” you accused, and the way Rowoon gazed at you confirmed it. You huffed with annoyance at your growing curiosity. “Fine, I’ll bite. Tell me the answer to my previous question.”

“It’s hard working with you.”

“I’m intolerable, I can agree.”

Rowoon shook his head. “Not like that, well… I’m not going to go there right now. You asked me to elaborate on attraction. There’s a whole lot of it for you coming from me.”

“Really?”

“I was convinced you felt the same way, which was why we were butting heads. Eventually, we would have had to address that so our working partnership could improve. I guess we avoided that.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Quite. I’ll have to figure other outlets for the images of workplace misconduct that I’ve thought of.”

Laughing, you watched the man before you as he ate. He had a few mouthfuls before giving up and capturing your gaze with his own. “Are you trying to figure me out?”

“A little.”

“I shouldn’t be satisfied with that,” he replied, lowering his eyes back to his meal. He grew smug. “But I am.”

“I never said I liked you.”

“You’re considering it.”

“I’m trying to figure how you came to that being the answer to our tension.”

“Jaeyoon mentioned…”

“What? What did he say?!”

“Well, he thought that might be the reason for your intolerable ways.”

“So, you admit I’m intolerable.”

Rowoon groaned before chuckling. “There’s no way out of this deep hole, is there?”

“This is the longest conversation we’ve had, you know.”

“I’m aware. I’m enjoying it.”

“I have to admit I am too.”

Sharing a smile, you wondered what this new information would lend to your relationship with Rowoon. On a professional level, you hoped it would break down the barriers between your work ethics.

Though, the idea of figuring out what Rowoon had been imagining had ignited further interest within you.

Maybe you’d find yourselves on the same wavelength eventually.

_________________

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[Various Idols/Soloists Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]  

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Found Out.”

I took inspiration from the ONE question on the discord server that has caused me no little amount  of annoyance. I have had it asked so many times that now there is an auto response to anyone who asks me the question. Those of you who are on the server know what I am talking about. Those of you who don’t. I will answer at the end of this post.

Simon had to see what was going on.

Granted, the admiral’s business was the Admiral’s business, but there was something strange going on here, and she felt that it was her job to figure out what that was going on. As it occurred to her, generally when something was going on with the Admiral, oftentimes it was something strange and dangerous.

The odd behavior that Corporal Ramirez was now exhibiting might be evidence of some sort of strange contagious mind control alien that…. Well she didn’t know, but it probably infected other people through like…. Spores or something.

She never knew with the Admiral. 

She made her way up onto the command deck and passed the vacant offices. Most of the officers had already clocked off for the day and gone to eat dinner or to bed. Even she should have been off by then, but the strange behavior of the corporal and reports from Yeb (the strange little Tricar with the Green mohawk who now worked with the mess hall staff) that the marine had been stealing large amounts of fruit from the walk in fridge.

Whatever was going on, she had to get down to the bottom of it even if no one else was interested in helping.

She had tried to go to Krill, the only rational person ironically not even a person, to talk to him, but he had been too busy with a relatively routine, but still emergency, surgery and had been unable to speak with her. Dr Katie had been assisting him, and she considered Dr. Katie to be the second most rational person on the ship, and super sweet, but just her luck both of them were too busy.

So it was up to her to figure out what was going on.

She made it up to the Admiral’s door and waited.

She could hear nothing overt just yet, and so she pressed her ear up against the doo hoping that she might be able to hear something, but of course there was nothing. She went to step back contemplating what might be best to do, but as she did, her hand pressed against the opening pad on the door and it slid suddenly open with the soft familiar hiss. She was a bit surprised at first, having expected the door to be locked, and so she stood there blinking owlishly.

The room was dark mostly, light spilled in from the window on the right, bathing the room in the delicate pink of a nearby nebulae.

It wasn’t the only light source though, overhead, on the ceiling a strip of blue neon rested over the bed shedding light downwards on all of his strange and nerdy possessions, movie posters, moon lander replicas, and some other weird stuff that she couldn’t identify.

She saw some movement, and looked down to see the captain’s dog waffles resting in her bed. Her tail thumped once or twice upon seeing Simon.

Simon pursed her lips, she liked Waffles well enough, but was more of a cat person, and was glad the dog didn’t get up,

However, the good things about the animal was mostly to do with her being a good indication of what was going on in the room. As far as Simon could tell, the dog didn’t seem upset in any way, or even distrubed. In fact, she lay her head back down and closed her eyes barely even bothered that Simon had intruded on her master’s room without calling.

Her eyes scanned ver the room as her eyes adjusted, the dull neon light showed more and more of the room.

And the two men lying prone on the bed.

She froze not entirely sure what to think.

Crew fraternization was CLEARLY against the UNSC rules, and a marine with the admiral had some implications that she didn’t even want to think about.

She stood there confused in the doorway for a long moment not sure what to do.

By all rights she should turn the two of them in according to the UNSC guidelines, but… but could see do that? She didn’t know? The rest of the crew would be pissed at her if she did, and she could lose her job. Was this really something she wanted to get herself involved with? Was this really something she COULD get herself involved with.

She stood there racked with indecision for the longest moment until one of the figures began to move, likely allerted. She went to turn around, to run away or something, but just then the Admiral sat up and looked over at her.

He tilted his head as if confused and then his eyes went wide.

She held up her hands, “Admiral I…”

Before she could do anything, the admiral leaped forward off the bed ran over and grabbed her arm, dragging her inside and forcing the door shut. Corporal Ramirez was sitting up now looking groggy and confused.

The Admiral had a hand clamped over her mouth.

Her eyes were wide and wild.

She tried to pull away but he gripped her tighter, “Simon, don’t freak out.”

Ramirez sat up rubbing his head.

“Promise not to freak out, and I will let you go.”

She paused and then nodded, not entirely sure she was going to do what he wanted but she relaxed anyway.

He let her go and held out his hands eying her as if he was ready to jump forward.

Simon didn’t try to run away, but she did cross her arms, “This is unacceptable, Admiral. Absolutely unacceptable.”

He frowned at her seeming oddly confused for someone who had been caught.

“But you haven’t even-”

“Fraternizing with members of the crew!” She announced, she pointed at Ramirez, “And you with your commanding officer.”

The two of them looked at each other for a second confused again before it seemed to dawn on them.

Even in the Dim neon light she saw the Admiral turn red, and Ramirez raised his hands defensively

“Woah woah hold on.”

“We are not , we were’t….”

“Never in my life.:”

“He’s not even my type.”

“This looks weird, but I promise I can explain everything.”

Simon frowned and crossed her arms, “Oh I think it is pretty obvious. You all are acting weird, and then I find you in bed together. That seems pretty clear to me.”

Admiral Vir raised a hand, “I mean I'll admit it does LOOK shady, but we fell asleep kind of on accident, but I would never, not with him.”

Ramirez frowned, “ouch, insulted, but seriously. We weren’t doing anything. And you know me, if we were I would definitely make some inappropriate joke right about now for sure.”

Simon huffed angrily.

“Then what WERE you doing.”

“Well…”

At that moment a dark snakelike shape rose up from the center of the bed, turned towards her and opened it’s mouth.

Simon screamed and tried leaping away, but the Admiral grabbed her again and clamped a hand over her mouth. She tried to fight out of his grip, but he was far too strong. The THING on the bed lifted up higher it’s mouth still open. What was that! Some kind of mind control creature! An alien brain sucker! 

She continued to struggle.

The Admiral Pushed her up against the door hand over her mouth.

“SImon, SIMON!, stop. Stop struggling and we can explain! But I swear if you scream I…. I’lll….. Well I don’t know what Ill do right now, but it will be….. Very unpleasant.” He paused and frowned, “Mindly unpleasant…… well it might be a little unpleasant, definitely a good scolding.”

She frowned in confusion and stopped struggling, and the man, once again, removed his hand from her mouth.

The thing on the bed closed its mouth and blinked one slimy yellow green eye at her.

“What. the. Fuck. is. That.”

Admiral Vir rubbed the back of his head, “Well that is…. That is Jeffery.”

“Jeffery…?”

The snake-thing unwound itself from it’s curled position and slithered onto the floor. Waffles was standing up drawn out of her bed by all the commotion, and as she stood the snake slithered over, reared up and slipped over the dog’s back, wrapping around her belly once and then once around her neck, until it was wrapped around her like some strange looking scarf, head raised into the air like some knd of demented parascope. The dog leaned her head down to lick the snake once before looking back up at Simon.

“Where…. Where did you get it.”

“Huh…. um…. So funny story, we were down on this planet you see-”

She groaned, “You stole and alien from an alien planet!.”

“I mean…. Yes and no, you se Jeffery wanted to come.”

She glowered at him, “Did Jeffery SAY that.”

“Well, no, but I did try to put him back, honestly I did, but then I went to leave. He followed after me and he just looked so sad that I couldn’t leave him.” The man’s eye was wide like that of a child asking to keep a  kitten he had found on the side of the road. 

Waffles took a few steps forward, and now the snake was nearly at chest height looking at her.

She eyed it warily.

“Go on.” The admiral urged, “he likes chin scratches.”

She turned to look at him, “No I am NOT going to pet the snake.”

From the other side of the room Ramirez whispered, “Do it.”

The Admiral nodded encouragingly, and the two of them together frustrated her enough that she finally reached forward and hesitantly rubbed the soft skin under the strange alien’s chin. To her surprise the snake thing learned its head back as if it was enjoying the experience. Before she knew what was happening, it suddenly began curling around her arm and slithering up around her shoulders until it was resting with it’s head on top of hers.

It was…. Strange, and kind of…. nice .

Simon didn’t generally like hugs, or being touched by people period, but there was something about this that felt like…. All the good parts of a hug without any of the bad parts.

She knew pretty immediately that she had been dragged right into this with them.

She frowned.

“Do the two of you even know how to take care of a snake?”

They paused and turned to look at each other. Adam shook his head and Ramirez shrugged.

“Well he isn’t exactly a snake now is he?”

They did have a point.

“Besides, we’ve figured out what he can eat. He likes blueberries, strawberries. And he really loves Pineapple.”

“Pineapple, are you serious?”

“Yeah we were kind of skeptical at first, but he really just went for it, and you know we have been monitoring his health to make sure that he is ok, and it seems to be working rather well.”

Adam nodded, seeming pleased with himself, “Yeah, I seem to recall those berries having a pretty acidic smell, so maybe that’s sort of just the kind of thing that he eats.”

Simon frowned, clearly the two of them had no idea what they were doing. They were definitely going to need her help to be more organized and to take care of this guy way better. She absently reached up to rub Jeffery’s chin.

Don’t worry, she thought, I am going to take good care of you

That question is, “Can Drev eat Pineapple.”  The answer is NO, but Jeffery can!

[nillial]

ok pick your fave: "why are you whispering" or "you don't see me" with kravitz and lup and maybe also taako? :0

Kravitz’s shift is almost over.

Almost. 

Until a woman runs into the Fantasy Hot Topic, her hair out of place, her arms full of what he can only assume is stolen goods, and shouts over the towers of folded clothes, “You don’t see me!” Then she throws her merchandise into the bowl of pins, pulls up her hood, and pretends to browse the hats.

Two seconds later, security skids onto the carpeted floor. After scanning the room, he asks, “Hey, you seen a lady come in here? Elf, long undercut, bad dye job? She stole some candles from Bath and Body Works. And then makeup from Sephora. And jeans from American Eagle.”

He glances at her. She bristles as the ‘bad dye job’ comment.

Kravitz returns his attention to the mall cop at the entrance. “She didn’t come by here,” he says. “How’d she hit three different stores without anyone stopping her?”

He furrows his brow. “I’m losin’ her, gotta go,” he says, running off in order to avoid the hit to his ego.

The moment the coast is clear, she tugs her hood off her head and grabs her stuff from where she’d tossed it. “Bad dye job,” she mutters under her breath. “Fuckin’ wannabe Tom Selleck, ugly mustache, power-tripping piece of shit. Bad dye job. My hair is impeccable, thank you.” 

Kravitz leans onto the cashier counter. “Candles?”

-

She turns towards him. “They smelled good,” she tells him. “Here. Sniff.”

She shoves one of her candles in his face and Kravitz, who doesn’t know how to say no, complies and takes a sniff. It really does smell good— it’s some kind of fruity pineapple scent, but, in Kravitz’s opinion, it’s not worth running from the security guard to get. 

He holds out a hand and lowers the candle away from his face. “Uh huh.”

As she’s rummaging through the rest of her things, she asks, “Hey, can I have a bag, bud? My purse is too small for all this shit.”

He’s already covered for her and agreed to smell some candle she stole, so why the fuck not? He produces a plastic bag from behind the counter and hands it to her. She starts piling her stuff inside. “Oh, yeah,” she says, sticking a hand out for him to shake. “I’m Lup. Thanks for covering my ass.”

He takes it. “Kravitz. My shift ends in two minutes and I don’t wanna have to deal with a shoplifter.”

“I promise I don’t usually get caught. I’m good at this.”

“But not at dying your hair?”

She presses a hand to her chest, offended. “Ouch, Krav. Ouch.”

“Krav?”

“Like— like Kravitz. I mean, it says Dan on your nametag.”

“Yeah, I don’t know who Dan is.” He peers over the counter and into her bag. “What’d you need all this stuff for, anyway?”

“I didn’t need it, per se. But I do have a date with my boyfriend later, so…” She pulls a red off-shoulder crop top out of her bag. “What do you think of this? Too much?”

Kravitz is saved from having to answer by a man who looks almost identical to Lup striding into the store and yelling, “There you are, you fuckin’ backstabber!”

He is, admittedly, pretty handsome. Kravitz ignores this fact and instead focuses on how to slip out without either of them noticing. He wants to go home.

Lup swivels around to face him. “I’m not a backstabber! I was shopping, Taako! I almost got arrested!”

“Seems to me like your chattin’ it up with some guy who never left his goth phase.” The man, who, evidently, is called Taako, saunters up to the counter and leans against it. “No offense, my dude.”

He glances down at his attire. “I don’t— I— I just like dark colors.”

“Uh huh.” Taako turns back to Lup, who Kravitz assumes must be a sister of his. “Hey, you’ll be happy to know I wasn’t kidnapped and killed at the food court where you left me to die.”

She holds up her bag once again. “Shopping!”

“Stealing,” Kravitz corrects her.

Lup shoots a glare at him. “Shh.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Taako snatches the bag from her, shuffling things around inside until he finally finds one of the candles she took. “This is mine now. Penance for abandoning me. Hey, guy, who are you?”

Before Kravtiz can say anything, Lup cuts in with, “My best friend who got the mall cop off my ass. The mall cop who told me I had a bad dye job. Can you fuckin’ believe that, Taako? If you saw him and his stupid goddamn cheap toupee— God, what an asshole.”

“Best friend?” he asks. “I just now met you.”

She glances over at him. “What, you have another bestie?”

He stays silent. She’s got him there.

Lup tugs her bag over her shoulder. “Well, if you ever wanna hang, me and Taako stop by the food court for lunch, like, all the time. We’re easy to find. And, uh, I promise I won’t hide out in Hot Topic next time Paul Blart comes after me.” She digs around in her bag one last time and sets down the fruity candle she showed him earlier. “Here. For your trouble.”

Taako removes his elbows from the counter. “See you, um…” He glances down at his nametag. “Dan.”

“Kravitz,” he tells him, stepping out from behind the counter. “And my shift is officially over. See you at the food court some day, I guess.”

The two of them wave him goodbye and make their way out of the store, talking in low voices about “How did you get caught, you dingus?” and “It’s not my fault, it’s this lady who…”

Kravitz stares at the Bath and Body Works candle on the counter. It stares back at him.

What the fuck just happened?