#this has been happening inside my head for the past. 72 hours or so. its just become too much to Sit On

[cosmik-homo]

I AM GOING TO THROW UP. I AM GOING TO THROW UP.

[deepdarkdelights]

Solar Eclipse (Hoseok x Reader)

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 16.9k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Stalking, Obsession, Forced Relationships, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Devious Intentions, Talks about Mental Health, Mentions of Suicide, Dub Con, Forced Implants, Death, The Afterlife, Heights, Jumping from Heights

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview:  His smile drifted away, it was like watching the moon slip over the sun into a solar eclipse. The Hoseok you were left with was one that had a cold, stricken expression that bled disbelief.

This look on his face, although more genuine than anything else you had seen, was capable of sending your entire body into a panicked frenzy. Something in the back of your mind was telling you, no, begging you to run. The instincts that had been fostered in you from generations before were telling you this man was dangerous, and you were better off fleeing than sticking around to see what would happen. 

“I dare you, say that to me one more time baby and you won’t like what happens next.”

A/N: This was supposed to be 10k...how did we get here. This story was heavily inspired by Beautiful Accident and Wonderful Nightmare! Both amazing movies I recommend that never fail to get me in my feels. I hope you enjoy this wild ride! See you in the comments! 💜💜💜

Your hands were hurting again.

The light from your computer screen was blaringly bright, causing you to momentarily cease your endless scrolling and remove your glasses from the bridge of your nose. You pressed your cool fingers against the warm flesh of your eyelids and tilted your head back against your seat, giving yourself a moment to relax. 

The once cacophonous tapping of another keyboard suddenly halted as your assistant leaned forward in her seat, sliding her laptop shut. 

“You okay, boss?” She asked, her brows pinched together in concern. “Is it a migraine again?”

You exhaled deeply through your nose as you flexed your fingers in an attempt to dispel the ache from them. You were far too young to already be experiencing so many aches and pains. 

“No, I’m just tired.” You admitted as you folded your glasses up and pushed them aside. 

“That’s because you work too much, honestly do you ever sleep? When was the last time you went home?” She chuckled in amusement.

“Ha ha ha, very funny. I’ll have you know I’m faithful to my sleep number, I come home to him every night.” 

“Him? You refer to your mattress as him? Somebody hasn’t gotten laid in a while.” She snorted. 

“I could have you fired for that, that’s sexual harassment you know.” You shot back, amused yet annoyed she had hit a little too close to home. 

“Please, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you fired me.” She laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Before you could shoot back your response, an abrupt knock on the door stopped the both of you in your tracks. Without saying anything, she rose from her seat and began to cross the room. Knowing she would be able to handle it for you, you reclined deeper into your office chair and slipped your phone out of your desk drawer to sort through your endless amount of notifications. 

You didn’t look up as you heard the door click shut, two sets of footsteps approaching your mahogany desk. 

You could hear somebody clear their throat, their breaths coming out rapidly as if they were anxious. “Y-your coffee, miss.”

Without looking up you merely held out your hand, the warm cup slotting itself into your waiting fingers. You mumbled out a rough thanks as you continued to scroll through your phone, rolling your eyes at the amount of missed calls you had from your mother who, despite knowing your work schedule, persisted in calling you during your office hours. 

You could faintly hear your assistant walking the man to the door, whispering a soft, “Thank you, sweetie,” as the door clicked shut. 

“Really?!” She hissed, once she was sure the man was gone. “You didn’t even look at him!”

“Who? The coffee boy? I didn’t think it mattered.” You said with a shrug, taking a sip from your coffee.

“That wasn’t a coffee boy! That was your intern, jackass!”

“He’s just an intern, Jenny, he won’t be here for long. None of them last around here anyways.” 

Jenny sighed, flopping down into the seat across from you with a pout. “The poor thing was so nervous, you really should be nicer to him. He has such a sweet smile…”

“Oh no, don’t you start one of your schemes again. I don’t have time for men and the last thing I need is for you to start playing cupid. And didn’t I tell you to stop hiring people just because they're attractive?”

“Sweetie, I don’t know if you’re aware, but you're not as young as you think you are. When are you going to settle down, huh? Find a husband, have some cute kids for me to dote on.” 

“Jesus, you’re starting to sound like my mother. I don’t have the time for marriage or for kids, not when I’m busy with this place.” You replied with a stiff tone, this was not the first time the two of you had this conversation. 

“I’m just saying you’re hot, rich, and a CEO, you could literally have any man you want.” She pointed out, the tips of her fingers pressing together in the shape of an arrow. 

“You literally just called me a Sugar Momma.” 

“I mean, they do have websites if you're interested…”

“Okay, you win, I’m leaving early. I can’t deal with your obnoxious ass anymore.” You said, standing up so quickly your chair shot back and turned on its wheels. 

“Jenny: 72, You: None.” Your assistant laughed, adding a point to her imaginary scoreboard.

“I was going to say call me if you need anything, but please don’t.” You chuckled, grabbing your blazer from the coat rack and sliding it around your shoulders before picking up your purse. 

“Don’t worry boss, I’ll hold down the fort.” She said, giving you a quick salute as she stood and began to gather her things. “Don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.”

You pressed your lips together tightly in an attempt to hide the hint of a smile on your mouth as she exited your office. She was the only person you talked to like that, you were a rather antisocial boss. You tended to come off as cold and callous to your employees, but in reality you just really didn’t like talking to others when it wasn’t necessary. It had taken four years for you and Jenny to become as close as you did, in fact she was the only person you could truly call your friend. 

You had grown up in an isolated world, one filled with tutors and home schooling as you were groomed to take over one of the branches of your family's business. You had siblings, but you rarely ever saw them. They too were consumed by their work and their families, in fact you were the youngest of them and couldn’t remember a time where all of you lived together in one household. There were four of you in total, you only saw each other at holidays and your parents annual Christmas gala. You were by no means close.

You had grown comfortable being alone and frigid. It was safe and it was efficient. 

Your entire life had been one of isolation, the only amount of warmth bleeding into the bleak monotone schemes of your world was Jenny. And the amount you had let in was minimal. 

It was better being alone, you told yourself. 

You adjusted your purse on your shoulder as your office door swung shut behind you. The building was still fairly active, everyone was in a rush to complete their work before the sun completely dipped below the horizon. That was something you enjoyed about your building. The walls were littered with floor to ceiling windows allowing the ochre tones of sunlight to bleed into the bright white and concrete interior, soft dappled light dancing over hard edges. 

You paused for a moment by the windows, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt the warmth of the sun caress your face, its fleeting light still permeable through your closed eyelids creating a golden halo in your vision. You gave yourself two breaths worth of silence and stillness before your eyes snapped open once more and you hastily made your way to the elevator that would send you to your floor of the parking garage. 

You waited patiently for the elevator, one of your legs extended in front of you as you rolled your foot from side to side on the precarious talon of your red bottom heels. Once you heard the doors sliding open and the familiar ding of the elevator you raised your chin slowly, your eyes half lidded in boredom as you met the expressions of your employees. There were two of them inside the metal contraption, their eyes wide in alarm at the sight of you. You tilted your head slightly to the side, and like you had cracked a whip they scuttled out of the elevator and hurried past you without a word. 

You huffed in annoyance to yourself as you headed inside, you had no idea what their problem was and you pondered if there was any reason to write them up for their bizarre behavior. Perhaps not. 

The elevator hummed as it steadily dropped floors, the soft music effectively worsening your mood. You hated elevator music. 

As soon as the doors slid open you jetted out of them, your heels tapping noisily in the quiet garage. You slid your bag from your shoulder and busied yourself by trying to find your keys. You hissed to yourself as you tripped and almost went flying, multitasking and heels did not go together. You stopped for a moment, opening your bag wider as you tried to find the little ring of keys buried in the depths of your purse. 

The second your fingers brushed the cool metal you released an annoyed breath, throwing your purse back over your shoulder as you flicked through your key ring, grasping the fob that went to your car.

Despite having what you had previously been looking for, you did not move. Instead, you looked around warily, pivoting on your heels as you scanned the area around you.

You could have sworn you heard footsteps.

You waited silently for a few more moments, listening for signs that another person was there with you. 

You heard no other breaths, nor the sounds of approaching or retreating footsteps.

You weren’t going to wait around any longer just to find out you were wrong. 

You swiftly made your way to your VIP parking spot, unlocked the doors, and threw yourself into the car while making sure to lock the doors as soon as you were seated. 

Your mother had begged you for months to get a bodyguard. You were a young woman with lots of money and the heir to a massive enterprise. You should not be walking around as if you were a normal person. It was only now that you were beginning to think that your mother was right. 

Not wanting to dwell on dark thoughts any longer, you pushed your key into the ignition, and peeled out of the parking garage a little faster than normal. 

As your anxiety slowly drained from your body, you began to feel the effects of lack of sleep. Jenny was not wrong, you were considering the fact that maybe you had a touch of insomnia. Either that or you were simply a workaholic. Honestly, it could be both. 

You switched the radio on, picking a classic rock station and dialing the volume up to the point you could feel your leather seats vibrating beneath you with each clash of the drums emanating from the speakers. 

But even that was just barely doing its job. Your eyes were still stinging like they had been moments before at your desk. You were undeniably as exhausted as you were a safety hazard. You clenched the steering wheel harder, the flesh of your skin pulling tightly over your knuckles as you attempted to stay awake. It wasn’t that far of a ride, you could make it home. 

But that thought didn’t stop your eyelids from drooping shut, it was nearly impossible to keep them open, they were so heavy you were struggling to reopen them every time you blinked. 

Your eyes stayed closed much longer now than they had before, and upon opening them again a scream of shock bubbled up your throat. 

A flash of black fur shot across your narrow vision as you frantically spun the steering wheel and slammed on your breaks. A band of horns beeped behind and beside you as you swerved dramatically into the next lane.

Your car had been mere inches from swerving right in front of an eighteen wheeler. 

Your hand fluttered frantically against your chest, your heart pounding back against it in shock. 

You had almost died. 

You gathered yourself up before stomping down on the accelerator and speeding away, dodging the massive vehicle you had almost hit in the opposite lane. The shock of adrenaline you were experiencing from that frightening event was more than enough to keep you awake now. You only had one goal in mind and that was to make it home in one piece. 

The minute you slid back into your regular parking spot you allowed yourself to slump back into the driver's seat, blinking wildly as you recalled the sight of the headlights and the cacophony of car horns from moments prior. You really need to get your shit together. 

~~~~~~~

By the time you made it up to your apartment the exhaustion had returned full force. You toed off your shoes tiredly, stumbling over them with an annoyed grunt as you threw your purse down to the floor. You could really do without your sudden lack of coordination. 

Far too tired to even care, you immediately began stripping your clothes off at the front door. You carelessly threw your blazer aside and shimmied off your skirt as you began to walk, leaving a trail of clothes behind you as you headed for your bedroom. The housekeeper would deal with it in the morning anyways, it didn’t matter where they ended up. 

Your pajamas from the previous night were waiting for you at the foot of your bed, folded up into a neat little pile contrasting greatly from your current care for your clothing. You happily sighed as you pulled the creamy, cashmere sweater over your head and stepped into a pair of silk sleep shorts. This was what you had been waiting for all day. 

That, and the bottle of Cheval Blanc tucked away in your liquor cabinet. 

You ran your fingers through your hair tiredly as you made your way to the kitchen, the sound of your bare feet patting against the floor echoed down the long, empty hallway. 

You wasted no time, eagerly pulling open your cabinet and retrieving the expensive bottle of wine along with a crystal glass. You eased the cork free from the bottle, allowing it to roll over your granite counter as you poured the wine into your glass, the liquor bubbling as you filled it to the very top. You were a guilty self medicator, that was for damn sure. 

You hurried back into your living room, wine glass in one hand and a small tray of macarons in the other. There was one thing you were certain of, you were definitely going to drink your fatigue away and indulge in your favorite cookies until you passed out on your couch. You deserved it, after all you were a CEO, an overworked one at that. 

So, there you sat, taking languid sips from your glass and delicate bites from your cookies as you began to catch up on a show you hadn’t had the time to watch in weeks. It was incredibly relaxing, the soft hum of the TV, the feeling of your favorite blanket wrapped around your bare legs, and the soft tapping of rain against your windows. You were set on not moving for the rest of the night. That was of course, until you had to pee.

You groaned in frustration at the thought of having to move, but the call of nature was much stronger than your will to remain sedentary. You leaned forward, setting your food and drink on the coffee table before you violently kicked your legs, fighting your blanket as you attempted to untangle yourself from it. 

The second your toes touched the lush carpet beneath you, a shock of lightning suddenly splintered it’s way through the sky, shards of light refracting through your windows and lighting up the dim room. The soft rumble of thunder followed soon after. 

You froze at the sight, the light rain still tapped against your windows, a dull contrast to the sudden shock of light you had witnessed.

But, what was even more unexpected, was the sight of dark fur and glowing jade eyes staring back at you. There was a cat sitting on your balcony. That should have been impossible, there was no possible way that cat could have made its way there, your building was pet free. 

The sight of its slick coat of black fur tugged at your heart strings. He must be so cold, stuck out in the rain like that. In fact, he looked almost exactly like your childhood cat you had loved to dearly growing up. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to let him in, let him get dry and warm and fill his belly. 

With a new goal in mind you carefully made your way to your sliding glass door, not wanting to spook him too badly lest he jump. The drop would not be a survivable one. 

Despite your valiant efforts, the minute the door clicked and slid open he jumped up onto the fencing and rails that surrounded your balcony. 

“Hey, no, no, no, just stay right there, kitty.” You cooed gently, taking slow and careful steps in his direction. 

The cat fixed you with a penetrating gaze, his bright jade eyes trained on you, watching every step you made as his tail flicked from side to side behind him. 

“That’s a good boy, just stay right there.” You hummed, your hands held up in a show of no malintent as you carefully approached him. “Come on, I just want to help you.”

Just as you were within grabbing reach, your fingers mere inches from touching his silken fur, he lept away, settling on the ledge against the building. He was dangerously close to falling off, the distance from the ledge to the ground far enough to make your toes and fingers tingle. 

“Fuck.” You hissed. 

The cat remained there, his gaze still trained on you. Those bright eyes seemed to be beckoning for you to come and join him, to meet him up on the ledge. 

You quickly shook out your hands and feet as you stared back, your vision tunneling in on him. You could feel the cold air nipping at your bare flesh, goosebumps raising on the skin of your thighs. You could do it. 

You wiped your palms against the fabric of your shorts before grasping the metal railing and carefully lowering yourself over to the other side. You could feel the wind stronger now as it swirled around you, a flash of light overtaking the sky once more as a steady rumble of thunder bounced off of the surrounding buildings. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You mumbled to yourself, taking in a sharp breath through your nose as you attempted to calm yourself. Just don’t look down, for the love of all that is holy do not look down.

You steadily rose up on to your toes, shimming your way over as you held on tightly to the railing. The sliver of stone beneath your toes was slick from rainfall, as was the metal of the railing beneath your tense fingers. The closer you got to the cat, the further away it seemed to be, either that was the truth or the reality of how high up you were was messing with your head.

The thought you had from earlier suddenly came rushing back to you, the drop wouldn’t be survivable. What a sobering thought. 

You had come to a point now where you wouldn’t be able to hold onto the railing anymore, not if you needed to be able to reach the cat. So, with a shaky breath you released your grip from the railing one hand at a time and quickly latched onto the stone architecture surrounding the windows. The only thing keeping you from falling was the tiny inches of stone beneath your arched feet, and the architecture you were desperately clinging to. 

You slowly turned your head, your gaze meeting the cat’s once more. It’s eyes were almost mesmerizing, there was something about it that was telling you that you needed to get him, that you just needed to pick him up and stay with him. You had no choice but to retrieve him, you felt like you would die if you had to leave him all alone on this ledge. His eyes were drawing you in, causing you to spiral downwards into their hypnotic depths. You needed him. 

He was not moving anymore, he was settled down on his back legs, his tail flicking out dangerously over the edge of the building. You were certain that you could reach him if you tried. 

You slowly lowered yourself into a crouch, releasing your one hand from the side of the building as you reached out, the other hand still holding onto the stone of the window. You leaned forward as calmly as you could, your arm burning from the stretch as you slid over slightly to grab the cat. 

This time the cat did not move away, it remained still, waiting for your touch. 

Both of your arms were completely spread out, your fingers just barely holding onto the building as you finally made it within grabbing distance. And then, it all fell apart.

As soon as your fingers brushed his midnight fur, he jerked away from your touch causing your feet to slip out from underneath you, and your weak hold to completely detach from the wall. 

And then you were falling.

A violent scream ripped its way free from your throat as you went airborne, the last thing you could see was the penetrating emerald glare of the midnight black cat as you plummeted towards the ground. 

No one would know that you had never intended to end your life when you stepped out onto that ledge.

Unwillingly, you had. 

~~~~~~~

You never felt the impact of the ground, and when you opened your eyes you did not find your body mangled or feel any pain. In fact you were no longer even in the city. 

You were already standing, and you were all alone. You turned frantically, spinning as you tried to find out where you were. There was nothing all around you, just cloudy skies, stretching fields of tall grass, old dilapidated fences, and a dusty road of dirt and rocks beneath your feet.

And then of course, there was the bus stop sign beside you. 

You approached the sign in curiosity. The closer you got the more you noticed how strange everything was. Despite there being stones beneath your feet you didn’t feel pain, and the environment wasn’t cold or hot, it was just neutral. And, it was extremely silent. Not a gust of wind blew, no crickets hummed, and there wasn’t a single chirp from a songbird. There was nothing. 

You leaned your upper body forward, looking from side to side for any signs of life. Both ways you could barely see anything, the field seemed to disappear into thick clouds of fog that were impermeable to your sight. 

You decided in that moment you were better off looking for signs of life than you were waiting for them to come find you. But, to your surprise, the second your foot touched down onto the dirt road a bus came rumbling down the road and screeched to a stop in front of you. 

The doors slid open and light flooded the space around you. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the exposure, your hand creating a visor on your forehead. 

“You getting on or what?” A voice called from inside the bus. 

“Me?” You asked pointing to yourself.

“Of course you, does it look like I’m talking to anyone else?” The voice huffed in annoyance. “I’m already running late. I'd prefer if you didn’t hold us up any longer.”

“Running late?” You whispered to yourself. “And where will you be taking me?” 

There was silence for a moment and then suddenly a raucous laughter that made you jump. “Where am I taking you?! That’s a good one. Come on, let's go.”

You blinked slowly in irritation, the last thing you needed was to be laughed at and dismissed like a child when you had serious questions that you needed answered. 

“Come on newbie! Today!” He yelled, causing you to jump in fright before scurrying onto the bus. 

Upon entering you were met face to face with the bus driver. He had fair skin and pitch black hair with an amused, gummy smile on his face. Apparently, he thought you were hilarious. He said nothing to you this time, he just merely jerked his head in the direction behind him, signaling for you to find a seat. 

Once you turned to face the passengers of the bus you realized it was far longer than it appeared from the outside, in fact it looked like it stretched farther beyond what you could see with copious amounts of passengers. 

The passengers themselves were of all sizes, races, and ages. You could see mothers holding infants and elderly couples cuddled up to one another. Some people seemed to know one another, others looked sad and lonely like the little boy a few seats back. 

You were incredibly confused. 

Unsure as to where you should sit, you finally decided on sitting next to the little boy. 

The second you sat down, you felt his gaze train on you and his little body shift closer to you. 

“Hi,” He whispered, his fingers curling around the fabric of your cashmere sweater and tugging, “My name is Minho.”

You have him a soft smile in return with a gentle whisper of your name. 

“Where’s your mommy, Minho?” You asked, curious as to why this little boy was all alone. 

“I’m going to meet her now.” He replied, with an excited smile, his legs kicking out energetically before he suddenly calmed down. “I wish daddy came with me.”

“Why didn’t your daddy come with you?” You asked, your eyebrows pinching together in confusion. 

“He said I had to go alone, he can’t come with me for a while. He said I’ll be happy with mommy, that I’ll feel better with her.” He said sadly, his lower lip pouting as he rubbed at his teary eyes. 

“You’ll feel better?”

“Mhm, I was sick for a long time. Daddy said it was time for me to see Mommy, he told me it was okay to go to sleep.”

Oh, oh no. Everything was suddenly starting to make sense. You quickly looked over your shoulder and caught sight of the elderly couple you had seen earlier. 

“Hey! You two! What were you doing before you got here?!”

The older man looked up at you with a kind smile as he continued to rub his wife’s shoulder. “We were driving down to visit our son, he was never too good about coming up to see us. Some bad weather hit, we couldn’t see out of the windshield very well. Next thing you know we’re rolling over the guard rail and down the side of the hill!”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

“You! Where were you?!” You yelled at the woman seated across from you. 

“Hm? I went in for surgery, what’s it to you?” She asked with an annoyed grimace on her face. 

“What’s it to me?!” You echoed with a hysterical laugh. You were fucking dead that’s what it was! All of you were!

Your thoughts were racing a hundred miles a minute as you tried to gather yourself, your heart beating frantically as a sick feeling settled in your stomach. You needed to get off the bus, you needed to get far away from all of these people. 

Without thinking you lurched to your feet and gripped the cord above your window, yanking it harshly to signal the bus to stop. 

The bus halted immediately, sending you stumbling forward into the back of the driver’s seat. The bus driver met your panicked face through the reflection of the mirror, a curious light to his pitch black irises. 

“So, we’ve got a challenger? I knew you’d be a stubborn one.” He sighed, hitting the button that sent the doors swishing open. “The guy in charge is out there, you can voice your complaints to him.”

You were far too shocked to vocalize anything, your feet just blindly leading you to the doors. You stopped for a moment, looking over your shoulder to get one quick look at Minho. His little legs were still kicking out in front of him.

“Bye miss!” He called with a little wave and a smile, spurring you off the bus with a quick wave in his direction.

Upon stepping foot off of the bus, you were faced with a dimly lit four way intersection that looked like it had been abandoned for years. You quickly headed towards the center of the road as you caught sight of a tall man waiting for you. 

His face was relaxed, a neutral expression taking over his features. He was dressed fairly well for a man standing in the middle of nowhere. You took notice of his crisp three piece suit and the high shine of his shoes. He was obviously someone who was important, if the bus driver had indicated anything by his statements.  

You didn’t waste any time to hurl your questions at him. “I’m dead aren’t I?! Who are you?! What is this place?!”

“Relax.” He commanded, his voice immediately sending a wave of calmness crashing down over you. 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, before reopening them and waiting in silence for his response. 

“My name is Namjoon, this is the crossroads.” He said, gesturing to the four intersecting roads surrounding you. 

“That is Life,” He said, pointing to the road behind you, “That is Punishment,” the road to his right, “That is Reward,” the road behind him, “And that is Retrial.” The road to his left. 

“Right, that’s fantastic, how do I go back down that road.” You blurted out, pointing to the road behind you.

“Normally, you don’t. But luckily for you, or not so luckily, there was an error made.”

“An error?” You asked. 

“Yes, one of our reapers made a mistake. You aren’t scheduled for processing for quite some time, someone by the same name, sixty years of age, was scheduled for processing today.”

A reaper? What reaper? You hadn’t exactly seen the classic skeletal face cloaked all in black with a scythe in hand had you? Your face screwed up in irritation as you flicked backwards through your memories from earlier that day, trying to remember if you had seen anything that remotely resembled a reaper. 

And then it hit you. 

“That fucking cat!” You screeched, spinning around as you dramatically yelled into the void around you. 

Namjoon winced his posture slightly wilting at your realization. “Yes, that was one of our newer reapers, Taehyung.”

“What kind of operation are you running here? Do I look like I’m sixty years old to you?” You yelled, the panic quelling up in your chest. “You’re going to fix this aren’t you?!”

“Of course! I take my job very seriously!” He shot back. “The only issue is, I can’t send you back to your life just yet.”

“And why not?!”

“Time is a very sensitive and precious thing, as a woman of business I am sure you understand. The other woman still needs to pass and be processed, the events that lead to her demise must be tailored perfectly and set up with the correct timing. Only then can you return, once she is passed with the correct timing the two of you will switch. You can live again and she can be sent down the proper road.” 

“And how long will that take?”

“A few weeks.” He replied vaguely, his body tensed as he waited for your response.

“Weeks?! And what will I do during that time? Do you expect me to follow you around everywhere?”

“Thankfully, no. In the time being, I will have to put you somewhere else, some other place and time. Are you willing to do that?”

“Yes, I’m more than willing. As long as I get my old life back, I don’t care what it takes. Just make it happen.”

“You will, in due time. But listen to me very carefully, you have to follow every aspect of this other life perfectly. You cannot act out of character, you have to act exactly as everyone expects you to. You cannot have contact with anyone from your previous life as well. Understand? If you can’t do that, then you can’t go back.”

You swallowed harshly, a sense of anxiety creeping up inside of you. You had no choice but to accept, your life and had been wrongfully ended far too soon. If that meant doing whatever Namjoon asked of you, you would do it. 

You gave him a swift nod, your hand clenching up into fists.

“Perfect, I’ll have Taehyung escort you down that way.” Namjoon replied, pointing down at the road to his left, Retrial.

Upon hearing his name, Taehyung appeared. He was tall, with honey skin, midnight black curly hair, and bright green eyes. 

The fucking cat. 

Taehyung met you with a sheepish grin and an embarrassed wave, hesitantly coming to your side. He looked nothing like the reaper you had been anticipating. If anything he was a sad excuse for a reaper with the bashful attitude he was presenting you with. 

“Did you really have to use the appearance of my childhood pet to kill me?” You asked, your voice dripping with venom as you crossed your arms over your chest, your bare foot tapping in annoyance. You weren’t exactly the picture of intimidation you normally were.

“I’m sorry.” He replied softly, bowing his head forward in an apologetic manner still refusing to meet your burning gaze.

“I’ll be checking in with you every now and then, please, try to play along with this life.” Namjoon begged, a serious expression evident on his face. Not only did he appear serious, but you could tell he  was also stressed. The fuck up Taehyung had made was evidently a big one. 

“I’ll try my best.” You replied, you knew you had to, or else there was no going back. 

Namjoon gave Taehyung a quick nod, and with that gesture Taehyung grabbed hold of your hand and began to lead you down Retrial. From your perspective, each road was identical, this one too was dusty and littered with stones leading into a seemingly never ending fog. 

The reaper beside you was quiet, his gaze pinned ahead as he focused on his task, leading you down the path of Retrial. 

If only you had known how much of a trial this life truly would be. 

~~~~~~~

You were boiling hot. 

You could feel a mattress beneath your back, one that was far softer than you normally liked. Your body was swaddled with thick blankets and sheets that were sticking to your sweaty skin. You groaned in irritation at the feeling and attempted to bat away the blanket and turn onto your side. 

A sudden grunt behind you had your heart stuttering to a stop, your entire body frozen as you came to the realization that that was not a blanket you had just smacked, but somebody's arm wrapped around your waist. 

Slowly, you turned onto your side to see who was in your bed. The moment you flipped your body over you were met with deep brown eyes that were just barely open and the sight of a lazy smile as your body was suddenly dragged forward and pressed tightly against the strangers. 

A sharp scream bubbled up past your lips as you threw yourself backwards, smacking the man’s hand away from your body as you fumbled out of the bed. In your haste your foot was caught in the mess of blankets, sending you tumbling backwards off of the bed, spurring another cry from your mouth. 

“Baby?” A voice called, it was raspy and deep from just waking and wrought with concern. 

You quickly yanked the sheets off of your sprawled out form and ushered yourself to stand on shaky legs. The man in the bed was propped up on one elbow, the sheet slipping down off of his chest to settle and pool at his waist. He was absolutely shirtless, revealing a stretch of honey skin and a toned abdomen. 

Holy shit, what the fuck was going on?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked you again, this time he appeared to be more alert, all signs of sleepiness dissipating from his body. 

Worried from your lack of response, he rushed to stand up, the blankets falling away to reveal he was clad in boxers. 

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck? It had to be illegal to have thighs like that, right?

“Stay right there!” You yelled, throwing your hand up in fear as he ignored your command and quickly began to approach you. The closer he got the more steps you took backwards, tripping over stray clothes on the floor until the wall at your back stopped you from retreating any further. 

The man, clearly ignoring your pleas to be left alone, walked right up to you. He was so close that his bare chest was pressed up against you effectively sandwiching you between him and the wall as heat flooded your cheeks. His hands fluttered around you worriedly, checking you for any signs of injury before he rested his hand on your forehead checking for a temperature. 

“Are you sick, hunny? You’re acting...off?” He asked, petting your hair in anxiety as he tried to meet your gaze. 

“Don’t touch me.” You finally said, brushing his hands off of you once more as you attempted to slip away from him. 

“Why are you acting like this?” He asked, obviously confused before a sudden smile overtook his features. He had a sweet smile, one that made his entire face light up in joy. “It reminds me how you used to act around me all those years ago. Are you trying to get me going this early? We really shouldn’t, you know, I have to be at work soon.”

Holy fuck, what kind of person are you now? 

The man in front of you pulled you out of your stupor at the feeling of his hand on your jaw as he leaned down to your height. 

Realizing what his intentions were, you let out another scream of fright and shoved him away, darting for the bedroom door. As soon as your hand gripped the doorknob you ripped the door open and slammed it shut behind you. 

You leaned your head back against the wall as you rested, you hand over your heart, taking shallow breaths as you attempted to collect yourself. 

That didn’t exactly go as planned.

With your eyes closed you didn’t see the incoming form running up to you until it collided with your legs, winding around you tightly in excitement. 

“Mommy!” A little voice cried. 

Your eyes snapped open in surprise as you looked down at the little child wrapped around your legs. Despite his small and non threatening form, you couldn’t stop the scream of fright that escaped you as you unlatched him from your legs and raced to the first open door you saw, yanking it closed behind you and twisting the lock shut. 

You were in the bathroom. Finally, a place where you could gather yourself. You stood at the sink, resting your forearms on the counter and your head in your hands as you breathed in sharply through your nose. You needed to get your shit together and stop panicking. 

You couldn’t help but feel cheated, panicked, and pissed all at once. Not only had you died, made a deal with some crossroads entity, but now the life you had been plopped in for the time being was the complete opposite of your previous one and you had not a single clue as to how to navigate it. 

You let out a few more huffs before standing back up and raking your fingers through your hair. A sudden sparkle of light caught your attention, causing you to pull your left hand free from your hair. There was an engagement ring and a wedding band on your left ring finger. You hissed at the sight of it, your entire body shuddering. 

You were married and a mother. 

“Are you fucking serious, Namjoon?!” You whispered to yourself in the bathroom, knocking your head back against the wall three times in frustration. Jenny would be having a field day if she knew about this. 

Jenny. 

You wondered what her reaction was, when she heard that you had flung yourself from your balcony. You wondered if she blamed herself for sending you home early even though it wasn’t her fault. You wished you could tell her you hadn’t done that to yourself, that it wasn’t her fault. You just hoped that she was okay and that she wasn’t crying over you. 

You could get through this, you had no other choice. It was time to get your shit together. 

You straightened your spine and shook out your hands with a deep breath before you unlocked the door and swung it open. Standing outside the door was your “son.” He was practically the spitting image of your “husband” who had yet to leave the bedroom. He was staring up at you, with big brown eyes, as he raised his arms up and clenched his hands in a grabbing motion. 

You knew what that meant. You plastered on a forced smile as you bent down and picked up the small boy before settling him on your hip. He easily nestled his head into the crook of your neck, his eyes fluttering shut as he basked in your warmth. 

At least he was cute, you could manage that.  

You curled your arm securely around his back as you walked into the kitchen, your bare feet padded dully against the cool tile of the floor. 

“Are you hungry?” You softly asked the little boy. You could feel him nod into your shoulder slowly, his fingers curling around the collar of your sleep shirt. 

You carefully unhooked him from your clothes and gently set him down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He whined in refusal, reaching out for you once more before becoming distracted by a coloring book that had been left at the table. 

Unsure as to what exactly you should make for the young boy, you searched the kitchen cabinets before settling on toast. Simple and easy. As the bread sat toasting, you decided to investigate the new environment you had been put in. 

You could tell you were still in the city, just a different section of it. You could see the towering skyscrapers through the windows of the apartment. This apartment was definitely not your own. For one, it was much smaller with a completely different layout. And, it looked to be in disorder with toys scattered everywhere in the living space. It certainly was not to your standards, but you could manage it for a few weeks as Namjoon had instructed. All you had to do was follow this life perfectly, and it couldn’t be that hard. Right?

You pulled yourself away from the windows, the drop off sending a familiar shiver down your spine, and rushed back into the kitchen to finish up the breakfast for the boy coloring away furiously at his book. 

Once you had the plate situated in front of him, you caught sight of a wallet on the opposite side of the table. Without hesitation you rounded the table and snatched it up, rifling through the items inside until you caught sight of what you were looking for. An ID. 

“Jung Hoseok.” You mumbled, the name tingling on your lips and echoing in your mind. So, this was your temporary husband. 

“What are you doing?” A voice asked from behind you causing you to jump in fright. 

You pivoted on your heels to face the man, your husband, Hoseok. Despite the fear his voice evoked in your body, he was presenting you with a blinding smile. One that sent chills throughout your body for reasons that were unknown to you. 

“Hoseok?” You said, although it sounded more like a question. 

“Hoseok?” He chuckled, “What did I do, am I in trouble? What happened to Hobi or hunny?” 

Well shit, you were already fucking things up weren’t you?

“You know if you need anything you can always ask me, baby. No need to go sneaking around.” He said, his smile still pinned to his cheeks as he struck you with a penetrating gaze.

He said nothing for a moment, he just stared at you with that smile in absolute silence. It was so quiet you could hear the blood pulsing through your ears and the soft ticking of the clock in the corner of the room as you tried to avoid his gaze. Despite the high position you once held in your previous life, you had never been very good with eye contact. He was really testing you today. 

He remained quiet as he grabbed the wallet from your hand and slipped it into his pants pocket before straightening his jacket out. 

“Jihoon, you’re going to be late for school. Go get ready.” Hoseok said, his voice and face still appearing cheerful as the little boy shuffled out of his chair and darted down the hallway to his bedroom. 

You didn’t know why, but you were struck with the feeling that something was very wrong here. 

You remained motionless as Hoseok raised his hand, cupping the side of your face rather gently, much softer than you originally expected. 

“You’ll be good for me while I’m gone, won’t you baby?” He whispered, his lips lightly brushing your cheekbone as his fingers gently swiped over the smooth skin of your cheek. 

You said nothing, you merely nodded in agreement so that he would finally release you and leave you alone to process what you had gotten yourself into. 

Without warning, he pressed his lips to your own in a hard kiss spurring a cry of surprise from you. You attempted to pull away from him only to find his hand at your back, keeping you pressed close to him as he sighed against your mouth, a shudder shaking through his body. His grip was becoming stronger, borderline bruising the more you squirmed against him as he tongue swiped over the flesh of your lower lip. 

“Ew! Daddy!” Jihoon yelled as he reentered the room, fully dressed for school with his little backpack slung over his small shoulders.

Hoseok pulled away from you with a laugh, allowing you to stumble away from your supposed husband, your hand cupping your mouth. You took back whatever you had thought about Jihoon before, he was your saving grace. 

“Sorry buddy, Daddy just loves Mommy so much!” Hoseok said, his voice full of glee as he gave his son a quick hug before standing up again. “I’ll see you after work.”

Hoseok headed to the door, stopping for a moment to look you over one last time. “I’ll be seeing you later as well.” He said with a wink before exiting the apartment.

Thank fuck he was gone. 

Jihoon quickly approached the now closed door, sliding his shoes on and reaching for the door knob. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” You asked as you watched the young boy open the door.

“School?” He asked slowly, his little brows furrowed in confusion. 

“By yourself? No, give me a minute to get dressed. I'll walk you to the bus.”

“Mommy, you can’t!” He cried, causing you to come to a stop. 

“I can’t? And why not?” 

“Because, you never do.” He replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

What kind of mother was this person? She didn’t even walk her own kid to the bus to make sure he didn’t get kidnapped? Jihoon was so young, he couldn’t have been older than six by the looks of him. He was practically still a baby. 

“Well I am now, wait right there Jihoon.”

You were still dressed in the baggy T-shirt you had woken in, the fabric rumpled and hanging loosely over your shoulders revealed a fraction of your collarbone. It didn’t take a genius to figure out this was Hoseok’s shirt. You hissed in annoyance and ripped the shirt from your body, filing it into a corner of the bedroom. 

The closet was filled to the brim with clothes, both yours and your “husband’s.” You swept the various suits and shirts aside until you stopped at your own clothes. You found it strange the amount of formal attire Hoseok possessed and your lack of it. Your side of the closet was filled with comfortable clothes, the only “formal” attire you owned was a wedding dress tucked all the way in the back of the closet and stored away in a plastic case. 

You sighed in frustration, settling on a pair of leggings and a large hoodie. One that was, presumably, your husbands as well. Did this woman have no desire to take pride in her appearance? Apparently not. 

“Come on, Jihoon!” You called with a clap of your hands as you made your way to the front door where he waited, his small hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack. 

Jihoon didn’t say anything in response, he merely held up his hand and slipped it into your own. He was a cute kid, a perfect reflection of Hoseok, but eerily enough you could see your own features reflected in him. 

You released a deep breath through your nose, pushing those thoughts to the back of your head. You needed to focus on getting him to school for now. 

The door clicked shut behind you as the two of you began making your way out of the building. The weather was still warm, not that much different from what it had been in your past life. It was nice, being able to take in the fresh air for a moment and be able to process what exactly you were going through. 

Jihoon had taken the initiative for the both of you, considering you had no idea where the bus picked him up for school everyday. His hand was still clutched in your own, his arm outstretched as he walked quickly in front of you. He was talking a million miles per minute, the most random things leaving his mouth. And, just when he was about to get to the point, he would find something new to distract himself. 

“Oh, Mommy! Look at that butterfly!” He was painfully cute. 

“Oh, it’s very...pretty.” You said, unsurely. At first glance, the creature was beautiful. It’s wings wide yet delicate, painted with bright colors like paint splatters on a fresh canvas. But, it had a large chunk missing from it’s right wing. The injured wing fluttered every now and then with the gentle breeze. The poor thing was trapped in the flower bed it was lying in, it would never be able to fly again. 

You were pulled from your reverie as Jihoon tugged on your arm sharply. He beckoned you to lower yourself down to his height. As soon as you had settled down on your haunches he threw himself against you in a tight hug, squeezing you twice for good measure. 

“Bye Mommy, I love you!” He yelled before pressing a kiss to your cheek and turning on his heels, darting towards the school bus. 

You stayed there for a moment, your hand frozen on the spot he had left a kiss. So, that was what it was like to have a family. To have someone love you. You had never had that before. 

You rose back up to your feet, taking a moment to gather yourself back up again. You could see there was a park nearby, and getting yourself over there seemed like a good enough idea. You didn’t want to go back to the apartment just yet, you still had no idea what you were supposed to do. You didn’t like the thought of just waiting at “home” for Jihoon, or worse, Hoseok to come back. 

Jihoon was easy, predictable. But Hoseok, he was uncharted territory. A raging sea you didn’t know how to navigate. 

Damn you and your incapability to foster stable relationships. 

It was only day one of this temporary life and you were completely out of your depth. A husband? A son? A stay at home mom? You had and were none of these things, but now you had every single one of them. Whether you wanted them or not. Namjoon gave you orders, and if you wanted to survive, you had no choice but to follow them. You had to play along.

You walked slowly, tiredly, through the park. The tips of your sneakers were dragging against the ground, kicking loose stones off to the side. A few weeks he had told you, just how long exactly was that? 

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the incoming footsteps approaching rapidly. It was the feeling of fingers gripping your shoulders and violently spinning you around that finally caught your attention, a cry of shock escaping you. 

“What are you doing?!” A voice cried, their hands shaking you to garner your attention. 

The sun that had blinded you finally lightened as it slipped behind a thick cover of clouds, disappearing out of sight. You could see now, and the man that was holding you so tightly was none other than Hoseok. 

“H-Hoseok?” You stuttered, your hands gripping his wrists as he ceased to lessen his hold on you. What was he doing here? He had left for work no longer than half an hour ago. 

“Did you hear me? I said, what are you doing?!”

“I’m going on a walk? I just dropped Jihoon off at the bus.” 

“You did what?!” He yelled, his face stricken with panic and a deep, hidden anger. His hold on you was only becoming stronger, near bruising as he shook you once more. 

“Hoseok! Stop it, you’re hurting me!” You yelled, taking a step back from him. 

That seemed to do the trick, his voice quieted and his hold became much lighter than before. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he acting like you had just committed a crime. 

His eyes slipped closed as he took a deep, calming breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the motion. “Baby, you don’t leave the apartment. You know this, we’ve been over this.”

“What?” You asked, utterly confused. 

This seemed to shock Hoseok, his brows raising and his eyes widening. The both of you were standing there, a gap between the two of you as you stared at one another with equal states of confusion. You not knowing what he meant, and him wondering if you were experiencing some sort of memory loss. 

“Come on, I’m taking you home, you need rest.” He finally said with a gentle smile, he was firmly set on the idea that you must be sick from how strange you were acting. 

You didn’t trust him or that fake smile he was giving you. Something was going on here, and it was terribly wrong.

“No.” You said firmly, taking a step backward when he tried to grab hold of you again. 

His smile drifted away, it was like watching the moon slip over the sun into a solar eclipse. The Hoseok you were left with was one that had a cold, stricken expression that bled disbelief. 

“What did you say?” He asked you, slowly. 

“I said, no.” You spat back, your voice sharp and firm despite the tingles of fear and anxiety creeping through every muscle in your body. 

This look on his face, although more genuine than anything else you had seen, was capable of sending your entire body into a panicked frenzy. Something in the back of your mind was telling you, no, begging you to run. The instincts that had been fostered in you from generations before were telling you this man was dangerous, and you were better off fleeing than sticking around to see what would happen. 

“I dare you, say that to me one more time baby and you won’t like what happens next.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Hoseok.”

That did it. As soon as he took one step in your direction, you spun around and booked it like a track star. You paid no mind to where you were going, not caring who you had to shove aside to clear a path for you to get away. You were trusting your gut, and it was screaming at you to get as far away as possible. You could hear Hoseok behind you, yelling your name and telling you to come back, but you paid him no mind. You just knew that this was your one and only chance to get away from him before you lost it. 

Everything he had said and done had raised red flags in your mind, the way he talked to you and touched you, it was all wrong. It was possessive and dark, whether he intended it to be or not. 

What husband doesn’t allow their wife to leave their home? What father lets their six year old child walk themselves to school? What caring man demands you obey his every will? There was something wrong. 

You couldn’t hear Hoseok behind you anymore, the crowd had thickened substantially the further away you got from the park and the deeper into the city you were. People were staring at you strangely as you shoved through the crowds, grunting in annoyance as you squeezed yourself through them. 

The crosswalk was fairly empty, you could make it through and keep going, you had no time to stop and question how far away Hoseok was. So, you broke through the final band of people and began to sprint through the road, despite the sudden cries and warnings that were being shouted behind you. 

Fuck, there was a reason the crosswalk was empty, wasn’t there?

You turned your head to the side as you ran, only to come face to face with an oncoming car, coming in so fast you knew it wouldn’t be able to stop. No matter what you did, it was going to hit you. You threw your arms up in front of your face, blinding yourself as you squeezed your eyes shut and prepared yourself for the impact.

But it never came. 

“Day one and you’re already fucking things up, aren’t you?” 

The sounds of the city had fallen silent, there were no more car horns, no people talking, nothing. It was dead quiet. You slowly peeled your arms away from your face and opened your eyes.

Namjoon was there, still dressed in that three piece suit of his as he leaned up against the hood of the car that had almost hit you. He looked beyond pissed with you. You looked around, taking notice of your environment. There were people still looking at you, their faces frozen in shock and horror. There was a bird above you, it’s body frozen in midair with its wings spread wide open. And there was a little girl on the corner of the street, her popsicle stuck freefalling a foot above the ground. 

Time had been suspended.

“Namjoon! You don’t understand, this life you put me in, I can’t do it! I’m not a wife or a mother, I can’t do it! And my husband? There’s something wrong with him, I don’t know what but he isn’t right in the head.”

Namjoon rolled his head back, a sharp sigh leaving his lips before he righted himself and pressed his fingers to his temples. 

“You need to go back.” He simply said, his frustration evident.

“I just told you I can’t -”

“It’s either you go back to him and play house for a few fucking weeks, or I take you back to the crossroads and process you!” He snapped. 

You jumped in surprise at the sudden intensity of his voice. When you had first met Namjoon he was calm, collected, even a little embarrassed at the mess up that had occurred. Now, he was frustrated. 

“I told you before, you need to follow this life perfectly, you cannot let anyone know that anything is amiss. That means you need to be Jihoon’s mother and Hoseok’s wife. Whether you like it or not, that’s reality. So, you need to decide right now what you are going to do. Are you going to grin and bear it for a few measly weeks, or are we both leaving right now?”

You remained quiet for a moment. You already knew what your answer was going to be before you even opened your mouth. You needed to stop panicking and start thinking efficiently. What was a few weeks of unease and fear in comparison to years of your life you would gain in return. It was a good investment. 

“I’ll do it.” You finally said. 

“Good,” Namjoon breathed a sigh of relief as he popped off the hood of the car, “No more fuck ups, for my sake and yours.”

And then he was gone, disappeared into thin air. 

The world was moving around you again, and you were no longer standing on the crosswalk but instead in the middle of the sidewalk as the crowd of people that were previously waiting to cross the road dissipated and made their way to the other side.

And then, those same hands were on you again, but this time they pulled you into a warm chest, crushing you like a boa constrictor in a desperate hug. 

“You scared the shit out of me!” Hoseok cried, his hand settling on the back of your neck as he pulled your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. 

How ironic, you had scared him. 

~~~~~~~

Hoseok hadn’t even taken the risk of walking you back home, instead he flagged down a taxi and ushered the both of you into the back seat. The ride was spent in silence between the two of you. You sat there, the side of your head pressed against the window as you listened to the music from the radio and the feeling of Hoseok’s hand on your thigh keeping you immobile. 

You allowed him to grip your wrist when the cab arrived outside your apartment and when he dragged you back inside. It seemed so much darker now after you had been outside. You really didn’t want to be trapped in that small apartment with just you and him and no Jihoon to protect you. 

His hold didn’t lighten until he had dragged you into the bedroom you had woken up in the morning. It was then that he pressed his hand against your shoulders and shoved you backwards on the bed, quickly climbing on top of you as you began to flail your limbs wildly in surprise. 

“Calm down, hunny.” He cooed, a genuine, sadistic smile on his face now. All the other smiles before had been so fake now that you had seen this one. This one was beyond thrilled. 

You flinched as you felt cold metal encircle your wrist and snap shut. He had you handcuffed to the bed, there was no running away now that was for sure.

Your heart was thumping frantically in your chest, your limbs shaking as the adrenaline that had once faded was flooding through you again. Your instincts had been dead on accurate, you should have kept running when you had the chance.

“Baby, baby, baby,” He laughed, tilting his head to the side as his eyes shone with glee. “I haven’t seen you in so long, I thought you were gone.”

You were shaking beneath him as his eyes traced over every inch on your body, his fingers playing with the loose strands of your hair. 

“You’ve been acting so different today, almost like how you were when we first met all those years ago.” He hummed, his face pressing closer to yours as he lightly brushed his lips down the side of your cheek before stopping to press a kiss at the curve of your jaw. 

You flinched to the side in discomfort, spurring a delighted giggle from his lips. 

“As fun as it is to have you like this again, that doesn’t mean I can let your bad behavior go unpunished. You left without my permission and you said no to me, I can’t have that baby, I just can’t.” He sighed, the puff of air against your flesh spurring goosebumps to rise in response. 

“So, be a good little girl for me, and don’t move.” He instructed, pressing a lazy kiss to the bared column of your throat.

“You’re in timeout, a couple hours to yourself should help you think long and hard about what you did today.” He laughed, pulling himself off of you and retreating towards the bedroom door. 

“I’d think of a good way to apologize to me if I were you.”

And then he was gone. Once the door shut you could feel your heartbeat steadily falling and returning to normal. “Play house,” Namjoon had said, “Grin and bear it,” he told you. You weren’t so sure if those sentiments applied to your situation anymore. 

It was confirmed, you were married to a sadistic sociopath. 

Hoseok had left you chained to the bed for hours on end like the asshole that he was. You were rightfully scared of him, like you had previously thought, he was unpredictable. One moment he was kind and gentle and the next he was angry and after that he was filled with a corrosive glee.

How were you supposed to make it through the next few weeks like this? It was impossible. 

All you could do was lay there, stewing in anxiety as you were drowning in your never ending stream of thoughts about your fate at the hands of your so-called husband. 

By the time you heard the front door unlocking the sunlight had completely shifted in the room. The light was now entering at a different angle casting long, dark shadows over the room. It looked like the light was being chased away by the tendrils of darkness curling at its soft edges. 

You could hear a loud thud coming from the main room and the sound of little footsteps approaching the bedroom quickly. 

“Mommy!” A voice called before the door was shoved open. Jihoon. “Found you!” He giggled, kicking his shoes off before scrambling up the side of the bed and crawling over to you on all fours. 

Jihoon seemed undeterred by the sight of your wrist bound to the headboard behind you as he curled up against your side, his head resting on your shoulder as he wrapped his small arms around you. A chill traced its way up your spine, this wasn’t the first time he had seen his mother like this. No, this was common for him. 

Jihoon was already prattling endlessly about his day, much like he had on the way to the school bus that morning. His chatter suddenly came to a stop as he ran out of things to say, instead he let out a little hum and asked you: “Daddy put you in time out?”

“Yeah, Jihoon, Mommy’s in time out.” You replied, your jaw clenched and your eyes pressed shut. 

“I told you, you can’t leave. Daddy always finds you.” He said, nodding his head in agreement with himself as he began to play with your hair.

Your eyes snapped open, you head turning to the side to look at Jihoon. That definitely meant something, didn’t it? In fact, how had Hoseok found you at the park in the first place? Or on the sidewalk you had run to?

“Jihoon...how does Daddy find Mommy?” You asked him.

Jihoon continued to play with your hair, his tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration as he twisted and knotted your hair in a sloppy braid. “Your boo boo.”

“My boo boo?” 

Jihoon stopped his shaky braiding for a moment, meeting your eyes as he grabbed your free hand and led it to the back of your neck. That was when you felt it. 

Right there, at the nape of your neck, was a small bump beneath the flesh. You smoothed your finger over it a few more times in disbelief, making sure that what you were feeling was actually real. 

He had microchipped you, like a dog. 

A pit settled itself into your stomach as the reality of your situation finally hit you. The life you had been injected in was far more dark and twisted than you had first thought. This went beyond overprotectiveness and time outs, this was a clear show of obsession and possessiveness. In Hoseok’s eyes, you belonged to him. 

And, upon having that realization, your husband returned home from work. 

The bedroom door had been left wide open, giving you a clear view of Hoseok entering the apartment as he shimmied his jacket off of his shoulders and loosened his tie. Your arm curled around Jihoon tighter, pressing him even closer to your side like he was a life preserver, the only thing keeping you from being dragged down into the dark trenches of the sea. He felt safe to you. 

The minute Hoseok looked up and caught sight of the two of you, the bleak and tired look that adorned his features drifted away and was replaced by that same fake smile, the one that never reached his eyes but lit up his entire face. 

“There’s my two most favorite people in the world!” He called, pulling a laugh from Jihoon who raised his arms up in a gesture suggesting he wanted Hoseok to hold him. 

Traitor. 

Hoseok bounded into the room, lifting Jihoon up from underneath his arms and spinning him around before settling himself on the bed beside you with Jihoon on his chest, excited giggles shaking his entire body. 

It startled you how normal this would have looked from the outside, minus your hand being cuffed. To anyone else it could have looked like any other family spending time together after a long day. A stay at home mother with her busy husband and their young son. Oh, how far that was from the truth. 

“You hungry, buddy?” Hoseok asked, tickling his son's sides. “How about take out tonight?”

“Yeah!” Jihoon agreed enthusiastically. 

“What do you think, Mommy?” Hoseok asked you, pivoting his head to the side, his dark eyes fixing you to your spot. 

Play along. 

“That sounds good.” You nodded, attempting to do some damage control from your actions earlier that day. 

“Good answer baby,” Hoseok smiled, popping Jihoon off of him as he slid over to you, fishing the keys to the handcuffs out of his back pocket. His thumb gently stroked the reddened flesh of your bound wrist before freeing it. He held your wrist in his hand for a moment before pressing a long kiss to the irritated flesh. 

“Behave.” He whispered into your skin, looking up at you through half lidded eyes before he flipped his switch again and bounced off of the bed in glee. “C’mon Jihoon, you can pick where we order from!”

~~~~~~~

The air had been thick with tension for the rest of the night, unbeknownst to Jihoon who was too excited to be with both of his parents to realize that there was anything wrong. 

Jihoon had become a buffer between you and Hoseok, the little boy seating himself between the two of you on the couch with his food in hand while his legs kicked back and forth excitedly. A little hum of happiness left him with each bite of his food, completely oblivious to the dark look Hoseok was sending you over his head. 

You had somehow managed to equally piss him off and excite him all in one day. You were scared of what it would be like when Jihoon had to inevitably go to bed, he wouldn’t be there to protect you anymore. 

There were few things you had been scared of in your previous life, and they were normal things for a person of your stature. You had been scared of being mugged, being kidnapped for ransom, having someone break into your apartment, or becoming a disappointment to your family. 

Most of those things could have been remedied with a bodyguard. Never in your entire life did you ever think you would come to rely on a six year old boy, your “son,” to be your protection.  It was strange how much could change, all in the course of one night, one mistake. 

Once again, you had found yourself cradling Jihoon to your side, his body relaxing under your touch as he snuggled up against you. He gently guided your hand away from your lap, and onto his head, a sign that he wanted you to play with the short strands of hair. 

You pulled your hands away from your legs and allowed your son to lay his head down as you softly stroked his hair in a calming, soothing motion. The light of the television was flickering, casting a blue glow onto his young features. His eyes had fluttered shut, his long lashes casting smooth shadows against the skin beneath his eyes. His breath was coming out slower now beneath your touch, the rise and fall of his chest becoming slower and deeper than before. 

Jenny had been right about one thing, you would have had cute children. When you went back, a part of you was certain that you would miss Jihoon. Your little protector. 

You jolted at Hoseok’s unexpected touch, his arm sliding behind your shoulders as he moved closer to you on the couch. An annoyed whine sounded from Jihoon at the sudden motion causing him to press his face against your legs in an attempt to escape whatever was disrupting his sleep. 

Hoseok leaned closer, his warmth seeping into your side. He joined your hand on Jihoon’s head, lightly smoothing over his hair before speaking. “I think it’s time for bed, little man.”

“Noooo!” Jihoon whined, “I wanna stay with Mommy.” 

“Not tonight, buddy. You need to be a big boy and sleep in your own bed.”

“I don’t wanna!” He cried. 

Sensing an impending tantrum, Hoseok scooped Jihoon up into his arms and cradled him to his chest. He started rubbing his back in slow motions, bouncing lightly with each step that he took. Miraculously, you could see Jihoon’s eyes begin to droop shut, his fatigue returning in full blast. 

Your parents never did that for you. 

You watched as Hoseok retreated into Jihoon’s room, presumably to get him ready for bed.

Shit, your bodyguard was falling asleep. 

Your body moved before you could think, flinging itself from the couch and sprinting for the bedroom. You couldn’t think of what to do, you knew that as soon as Hoseok was done with Jihoon he was going to come after you and you didn’t know what to expect. So, you did what any other grown woman would do. 

You hid under the covers. 

Your heart was beating loudly in your chest, the sound echoing through your ears as you squeezed your eyes shut in fright. All you could do what lay there and wait for him, you were doing nothing but delaying the inevitable. 

When you heard his footsteps rounding the corner you tried to slow your breathing, forcing your chest to rise and fall slower to make it seem like you had fallen asleep. If he bought it, then maybe he would leave you alone. 

Unlikely. 

He did the exact opposite. You could hear him close the door behind him, shuffling around the room as he got ready for bed. Your breath hitched in your throat as the lights flickered off, and the mattress dipped beside you from his weight. 

It was dead silent in that pitch black room, the only sounds you could hear were the ringing in your ears, your breaths, and his. 

You flinched in surprise when he latched onto you, dragging you backwards into the warmth of his bare chest. 

You tried your best to remain calm, to breathe lightly, and to not move. But Hoseok was no idiot, and you were daft if you thought you could fool him. 

“I know you’re awake.” He whispered, his nose pressing against your hair as he took in a deep breath, sending a sharp chill down your spine. 

He remained quiet for a moment, his arms wrapping tighter around your body. The feeling was the same as if a boa constrictor was curling around you. Slowly increasing the pressure, tightening its grasp in an attempt to squeeze the life out of you. Slow, calculating, and intimate. 

The arm that had looped around your middle lightly drew backwards, allowing his hand to slide beneath your shirt and rest on the bare skin of your waist. 

“I think I know a way you can make it up to me.” He mumbled with his lips pressed against your throat. 

His palm smoothed over the skin of your lower abdomen, just above the hem of your underwear as he buried his head into the crook of your neck, lips and tongue tracing over the bared flesh. Like a little lamb you had found yourself caught in the jaws of the predator, one snap away from the clutches of death. 

You remained frozen from a blend of shock and fear, all sense of fight or flight leaving you and rendering you immobile. Every nerve in your body was screaming at you to move, to pull away, to throw yourself off of the bed. But your muscles were tense, frozen in a state of pure anxiety and fear, you knew nothing more than the thought of keeping still like a rabbit in the face of danger. 

He moved to the side, dragging you onto your back so he could settle himself on top of you. He braced himself with his arms on either side of you, caging you in with no room to escape. He gave you no warning of what he was thinking of doing, he merely swooped down and pressed his lips to your own. 

A muffled squeak rattled in your chest, your heart suddenly thudding louder than before like an alarm sounding to wake you up. Your hands moved first, sliding onto his chest and barely applying any force, struggling to push him back. His skin was warm and smooth against your palms, an alluring honey shade that you would have been enamored by like you had been that morning, had you not been exposed to his true nature. 

“Hoseok.” You said, finally breaking free of his kiss. 

Your call of his name had the exact opposite effect of what you had hoped. A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he pressed his hips against yours, effectively pinning you to the mattress beneath him. 

“Hoseok!” You tried again, trying to grab his attention. 

“That’s it baby, keep saying my name.” He sighed, expertly rolling his hips against yours. 

Oh. Oh no. 

The sudden wave of arousal that washed over you was unwelcomed and even more frightening than anything else. You weren’t even in control of yourself anymore, that was what his presence did to you. 

“Play along,” The words that Namjoon had told you were suddenly echoing in your mind. 

Your breath got caught in your throat as he pressed himself closer to you, you could feel the smooth roll of his hard length pressing against your core, light sparks of pleasure tingling throughout you. Shadows of fear still crept around in the back of your mind, the nape of your neck throbbing in a twisted reminder of the chip that lay beneath the skin. 

Hoseok was in his own world, hell bent on teasing you until he grew tired of it. He shifted his weight onto one arm allowing his hand to delicately trace up the length of your body. His fingers just barely brushed your thigh, trailing upwards to trace the hollows of your hips before settling on your waist and rising up over the barrel of your ribcage that was exposed so nicely for him from your arched spine. 

You were laying there, helpless for him, frozen from a state of arousal and fear that was blending perfectly into its own dark, tempting cocktail. You pressed your lips together firmly, smothering any whine that tried to force its way free from you when he pulled back, the motion of his hips stilling as he played with the hem of your shirt. You didn’t know if you wanted to yell at him to go away, or scold him for stopping. 

Either way, you didn’t have much say on the matter. 

He tilted his head from side to side, his dark eyes tracing over your form from head to toe. A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched the heavy rise and fall of your chest, your wrinkled shirt, and the way your thighs and hips jerked from the loss of his touch. You looked adorable to him, he couldn’t deny the powerful feeling it gave him to see you so helpless beneath him. He was sick, and he loved it. 

His fingers were still tracing the hem of your shirt, like he was contemplating removing it despite the both of you knowing it was inevitably going to come off. Hoseok was an impatient man, that much you could tell. He firmly gripped the bottom of your shirt and began to roll it up agonizingly slowly, that satisfied smirk still pinned to his handsome features. 

“Whaddya say, hunny? Should we give Jihoon a sibling?” He laughed, his tongue flicking out to swipe over his lower lip at the thought of getting to see you full with his child again. He would be a liar if he said the thought didn’t turn him on. 

All of the blood rushed to your face, your thighs tensing reflexively against him where he was settled between your legs. 

“Is that what you want?” He hummed, hands settling on your hips and roughly pulling you down the mattress against him. “You want me to fill you up again, sweetheart?” 

You didn’t get a chance to even consider answering his lewd question, a sudden shock of lighting and a deep roll of thunder caught the two of you off guard. The once pitch black room had been lit up by the blast of light, the windows shaking from the boom of thunder. 

And then, there was the sound of crying and little footsteps. 

Hoseok hung his head backwards in distress before rolling off of you with an annoyed whine echoing through the room. “God fucking dammit.”

“Mommy! Daddy!” Jihoon yelled before throwing the door open and scampering up over the foot of the bed, his little face wet with tears as he scrambled over the sheets and settled himself in between the two of you. 

If you had questioned it before, you weren’t questioning it now. Jihoon was your savior. 

“Jihoon, it’s just a little thunder, it’s nothing to be scared of.” Hoseok said, his voice a little sterner than normal, most likely from his case of blue balls. 

“It’s scary!” The little boy rebutted, “I wanna sleep with you!”

“Jihoon -”

“It’s okay you can sleep with Mommy and Daddy tonight.” You cut Hoseok off, opening your arms for Jihoon to snuggle into. 

The look on Hoseok’s face would have been humorous if you didn’t know you were going to have to pay for it eventually. 

Everything came with a price, eventually. 

~~~~~~~

Hours melted into days, and days slowly migrated into weeks. You had begun to lose track of how much time you had spent in this other life of yours. But you knew you couldn’t stand it for much longer. 

You could handle Jihoon, you liked Jihoon, you could stand even being there because of him. Hoseok...he was another story. He never hid his true intentions from you, that was for sure. But the more time you spent trapped inside that apartment the more you began to feel like you were going to lose yourself.

Sometimes you could forget what Hoseok really was, and other times he made sure to remind you. In this life, whoever this person was before you took over, they had never left the apartment since Jihoon was born. That was six years of their life spent trapped within these walls with no one to talk to except for two people who were only home for a few short hours a day. 

It was isolating. It wasn’t unlike the lonely life you had lived before in those regards. 

You were trapped, chipped, and alone. Any attempt you had made to leave by yourself, for any reason, had been swiftly thwarted by Hoseok. The knowledge of the tracker embedded in your neck reminded you that there was no point in running anyways, he would always find you. 

You tried to remind yourself that this would all be worth it in the end, that you could handle these weeks if it meant getting your old life back. But as each week passed, you weren’t so sure that was true any more. 

You were in a cyclical hell that you couldn’t manage. 

You had opened the door one day at the sound of someone outside it, it had been a new neighbor, a young man with full lips and an unusual laugh. Your heart had soared at the opportunity of being able to speak to someone other than a six year old or your possessive husband, but that had been quickly thwarted. 

Hoseok had pulled you back into the apartment and exited into the hallway, shutting the door behind him with a grim glare.

You never spoke to that neighbor again. 

Hoseok had become more needy as each week passed and you had taken to sleeping in Jihoon’s bed with him as often as you could, feeling protected by the boy you called your son. But your distance didn’t help in any manner, Hoseok was becoming more aggressive and more irritable. Not with your son, never with your son, but with you. 

He grabbed onto you more, touched you more, kissed you harder, and eventually forced you back into sleeping in your bedroom. 

You faked an illness for a few days to keep him at bay. That was how you got to this point. He was desperate. 

Hoseok was taking you on a work trip, just you, without your son. It was a city or two over, you would be staying at a hotel and having dinner with his coworkers there that same day. He was a desperate man calling for desperate measures to be alone with his wife. That meant that you had no more excuses and no Jihoon to protect you. 

Jihoon had cried when you said you had to go away with Hoseok, he didn’t want to go and stay with Hoseok’s mother, he wanted you two. And that part of your heart that had grown to accommodate him was slowly breaking with each tear that rolled down his cheeks. 

You would be lying if you said you didn’t love him. 

You knew that you weren’t the best mother, you didn’t know what a good mother was like. Yours was efficient at best. So you dug down deep for what maternal instincts you had, held him close, dried his tears, and kissed his chubby cheeks. 

And you told him you loved him. The first person you ever loved. 

So, that was how you found yourself here, at a table with a bunch of boring men and their partners talking about their work with Hoseok’s hand gripping your thigh, his finger rubbing circles into the skin beneath the length of your dress. 

You were incredibly bored of this ordeal. All of these men were business executives and their concepts of how to run a business were rudimentary at best. It took everything in you to keep your mouth closed to not correct them in front of their higher ups and embarrass them for the everyday mistakes they were making. 

“Play along.” Namjoon had said, so that was what you did. 

Although you may be a mother now, you would always be a business woman and a successful one at that. They didn’t deserve your expertise. 

Your eyes lazily drifted away from the table, zoning out as their voices became reduced to a low rumble. And that was when you saw it, a flash of black fur and glowing jade eyes on the ledge outside the window. 

Taehyung. It was time. 

Your heart leapt with joy, a smile carving into your once stony expression. You could go home now, you could finally wake up from this nightmare. A sharp squeeze to your thigh grounded you, a pit rolling in your stomach. You had to get away from Hoseok. 

He was staring at you, confused by the sudden appearance of your joyful grin. 

You leaned close to him, whispering lowly, “I have to use the ladies room.”

“I’ll take you.” He replied, going to scoot his chair away from the table. 

You gripped his forearm, bringing him to a halt. “No, this is important for you, I’ll only be a moment.”

He stared at you in silence, assessing you and trying to figure out what you were getting at before he spoke. “Behave.”

You nodded quickly before excusing yourself from the table and rushing down the hallway. You had seen a large balcony on your way to the restaurant on the top floor, it was only a little ways away. 

As soon as you stepped foot onto the balcony, you saw him. Taehyung was there, resting on the balcony as the sun slowly drifted away behind a cover of clouds, a gentle rain was beginning to tap the marble floor beneath you. 

You approached him quickly, your heart pumping in time with the gentle rumble of thunder above you. Taehyung came to a stand on the railing, the sharp drop off beside him glaring at you. 

“We have to do it this way, again?” You asked, your hands wrapping around the railing beside him as you peered over. You were even higher now than you had been the first time, sharp tingles were shooting through your hands and feet as you stared down at the streets below. 

Taehyung stared at you in silence, his eyes blinking slowly twice. You would take that as a yes. 

So, you carefully sat yourself up on the railing and turned, allowing your feet to dangle over the ledge. You watched in horror as your heels slipped off and went plummeting down to the ground. It took them a long time to meet the pavement, it would be a long fall for you.

“Fuck, are all of you reapers this dramatic?” You hissed at the cat. He looked amused at your predicament. 

“Okay, let’s do this thing.” You huffed, reaching your hand out to touch the reapers silky midnight fur. 

And that was when you heard the panicked call of your name. You looked over your shoulder, your eyes meeting Hoseok’s. His face was ashen, his hands held up as he attempted to approach you. Your eyes caught sight of his phone held up in one of his hands, a blinking dot on a grid staring back at you. He had accessed your tracker. 

“Baby, what are you doing?” He asked you, taking small, slow steps in your direction. “Come here, let’s talk, okay?”

“You can’t stop me,” You replied, “I won’t do this any longer.”

“You don’t know what you're saying, you're just stressed and scared. We can get through this.”

“I know what I’m doing, Hoseok. I’m done, my time is up and I need to go.”

“And what about me? What about Jihoon?” 

Jihoon. A chill spread through your body, your eyes suddenly stinging. You didn’t know that would be the last time you would hug him or say goodbye. He didn’t know that was the last day he would have a mother. 

“Jihoon will be fine.” You said firmly, Taehyung was creeping closer to you now at the same pace that Hoseok was. Your time was coming to a close, Hoseok was trying to compete with death. It was obvious who was going to win.

“I won’t let you do this.” He snapped back, frustration, desperation and fear taking over him as he flung his phone aside and began to run to you. 

“You don’t own me.” You spat back.

And then you grabbed Taehyung and clutched him to your chest before slipping off the edge of the balcony, Hoseok’s fingers just brushing your skin before you plummeted off the side of the building. 

Death was easier. 

~~~~~~~

First, there was darkness. 

And then there was the sound of monitors beeping around you.

Your eyes felt as heavy as lead, refusing to open on your command. And for a small, brief moment, you were afraid that when you opened your eyes he would be there. You were afraid that you had missed the window and you were trapped with him again.

But when you did manage to open your eyes, the person sleeping in the chair beside you was Jenny. 

You did it. 

Everyone was surprised by your survival and your recovery. The fall you had should have shattered your bones, mashed your brain, drained you of your blood. But you survived with minimal injuries. Some people called it a miracle, others thought you were a medical mystery. 

And Jenny though you were stupid. 

“What the fuck were you doing on that ledge? Were you that drunk or are you just that fucking stupid!” She yelled through her tears. 

“Both.” You answered, your face completely deadpan as she rained down a series of hits to your arms in retaliation. 

You laughed through it until she finally calmed down, a huffing mess in her chair beside you. “In all honesty, there was a cat on my balcony and I was trying to save it.”

“Oh my god, you are that fucking stupid aren’t you?” She said, shaking her head. “If you want a cat’s attention you lure it with food you dumbass! You are the dumbest smart person I know.” She sighed into her hands. 

The two of you remained quiet for a moment as she collected herself and you took in the room around you. There were no cards, no balloons, and no flowers. 

“So, I guess none of my family could clear some time in their busy schedules to come see me.” You said, quietly. 

Jenny raised her head, sympathy etched into the features of her face. “Do you want honesty, or do you want me to sugar coat it?”

You bit your lip in thought before making up your mind. “Honesty.”

Jenny took in a deep breath before scooting her plastic chair closer to your gurney. “Your family is...distancing themselves from you for the time being.”

“Distancing?” You echoed in confusion. 

“The media hasn’t taken too kindly to your...accident. Every tabloid is talking about the woman who has it all trying to throw it away. The public isn’t very happy with you at the moment.”

“The same wouldn’t be said if I had died.” You mumbled, because that was the truth. Nobody cared until it was far too late, their true intentions hiding beneath their masks of sorrow. It didn’t matter how much money you had, you had never been happy, and had your accident truly been an attempt well, maybe it was only a matter of time. 

“And what does my family think?”

“They aren’t too happy with you either. Your mother and father have put on a face for the public, wishing you a speedy recovery, but they left you a memo. They aren’t ready to speak with you yet, not until you do something to find your way back into their good graces. Your siblings, on the other hand, have said nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

You had forgotten how lonely this life was. Thoughts of Jihoon tugged at your heart strings, his little whispers of “I love you’s,” your after school snacks and cuddles, and the soft voice he used when he would wake you up in the morning with a gentle: “Mommy?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you!” Jenny said quickly. 

Your brow wrinkled in confusion before you felt it, the cool, wet, glide of a tear rolling down the side of your cheek. You were crying. 

“It’s not you, Jenny. I’m just thinking about someone I love.”

~~~~~~~

You had returned to work almost immediately upon being discharged from the hospital. Jenny called you stupid, you called it trying to return to your only family. You knew you shouldn’t care about their opinion, not when they so clearly showed their disappointment in you and their lack of care. But they were all you had, they were your family, your blood. They made you what you were.

Right?

So there you were, back to wearing those red bottom heels, those tailored suits, and those glasses you hadn’t touched in so long, hidden behind your desk in your office. 

You had kept your cool and your composure when you entered the office, doing your best to show you were unfazed by the shocked stares and the hushed whispers between your employees. You kept your composure only to throw your office door shut and slump against it with panicked pants for air. 

No matter how hard you tried, you knew you were never going to be the same anymore. Not after your fall, not after the crossroads, and not after Hoseok. You were broken in ways you couldn’t even comprehend. 

Even now, sitting at your desk, eyes trained on your computer, your finger swept over the skin at the nape of your neck, mindlessly feeling for the bump, the tracker that was once buried there. You were only met with seamless skin and irritation from the constant rubbing. You wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up rubbing the back of your neck raw. 

A soft knock to your door had you sighing in relief, you needed some respite from the thoughts that were racing a million miles a minute in your mind. You were mentally exhausted from everything you had gone through. You removed your glasses, pressing your cool fingers to your eyes. Your hands were hurting again. 

There was a loud crash as the door clicked shut, the sound of liquid spilling violently all over the floor of your office and the thick, strong odor of coffee. And then, there was the shocked gasp of your name.

A familiar chill traced down your spine at the voice, your heart kicking into overdrive. No, it couldn’t be. You rose from your chair causing it to spin away, your breathing quickening as you began to panic. 

It was Hoseok, standing there in your office in a puddle of coffee.

Jenny’s words from all those weeks ago came flooding back into your mind. “The poor thing was so nervous, you really should be nicer to him. He has such a sweet smile…”

You stepped backwards in fear, your world suddenly crashing down on you in one fatal swoop. 

He called your name again, a similar panic on his face as he crossed the room in distress. “Please! You, you have to help me! I don’t know what's going on but it feels like my head is being torn apart!”

Tears were rushing down your cheeks in endless rivers now. You had walked so far backwards that you were pinned against the tall windows behind you with nowhere left to go. 

“I have two lives, two sets of memories running parallel in my head and I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t!”

You closed your eyes, your body shaking and shutting down the closer he got. And then his hands were on your shoulders, shaking you in his grasp as he began to hyperventilate. 

“Where’s Jihoon?! Where did he go?! He cried, his body trembling in tune with your own as he was bombarded with memories he knew and ones he didn’t. He was too close now, his body pressed tightly to your own in that same suffocating manner as he panicked, his mind being torn apart for reasons unknown to him, holding onto you to ground himself.

You were beginning to understand now amidst the haze of panic. Namjoon had said he was putting you in a different place, in a different time. He had never said in a different life. You hadn’t become someone else, you had been moved six years forward in time. Those painful weeks you had lived through with the guise of them being temporary had all been for absolutely nothing. You were doomed to live out the life you had been trapped in. 

It was fate.

“Where is our son?!”

[hizashis-lil-bunbun]

No Rest for the Wicked- HardDom!Dabi X Fem! Brat Reader

Prompt: Dabi just wants to take a nap but everything goes wrong

I asked a friend in one of my discord groups for a random writing prompt when I was up late. Something about this one activated my inner ✨brat✨

Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.3k

Kinks/Warnings: brat taming, degradation, pain play, spanking, belting, mild dacryphilia, bondage, edging and denial, hints of dubcon

Banner made by the always lovely @ladyshinigami!

••••••••••••••

Exhausted.

That was the best way to sum up Dabi’s mood as he trudged through the bar fronting the League’s headquarters. Shigaraki had sent him out on a mission with orders to “stake out and take out” a small band of up-and-coming heroes. It had been easy enough to find them (newbies can never resist being flashy), but making sure they were all disposed of was another matter. A matter only made more complicated by a few rogue civilians that happened to spot him. It had taken him two full days to track everyone down, leaving him covered in blood, soot, and burns. In short, Dabi needed a break.

“Well, well, well.” Came the nasally voice of their fearless leader, “The prodigal son returns! Took you long enough, Dabi. Hope that means you didn’t fuck up the mission.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Dabi snaps back, too tired and sore to care about his tone. Not that he’d be any kinder to Shigaraki if he wasn’t. “I did what you asked and left no witnesses. Now piss off before I turn you into a smoldering pile.”

Shigaraki didn’t rise to Dabi’s bait, opting to simply flip him the bird before going back to whatever game console he was currently obsessed with. Dabi returns the gesture in kind, glowering as he disappears behind the bar and into the League’s living quarters. Their warehouse provides more than enough space for everyone to have their own room, and the boss even allowed them to decorate and furnish them as they pleased. Wasn’t that generous? Dabi plods down the hallway to his assigned room and kicks open the door only to find it was occupied. By you.

“Dabi?” You question for a moment before your eyes light up with excitement. “Dabi! You’re back!”

As a fellow Stain devotee, you’d sought out the LOV and been initiated as a member a mere six months ago. And two months later, you’d been initiated into Dabi’s bed. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves “lovers.” Love was few and far between in a hornet’s nest of villains. But you’d certainly become something more than the occasional lay.

He grunts as he stalks into the room, shedding his coat and boots as he went. Dabi was never big on grand displays of affection. And in his current state, that small show of acknowledgment may as well have been equivalent to a bear hug.

“I missed you.” You chirp back, undeterred by his gruff response. “How was the mission?”

“Long and shitty.” Came his terse reply as he strips off the rest of his clothes and grabs a towel from a nearby wall hook. “I need a fucking shower.”

He wraps the towel around his waist before he sets about searching for body wash and a first aid kit. Greedy eyes roam the plane of his toned torso, eager to touch the scarred and stapled flesh you’d spent many a night mapping out. Before joining the League, you’d never had an opinion one way or the other on touch or physical intimacy. You didn’t dislike it by any means; it was just something people did, fuck buddies or otherwise. But now that you’d shared a bed with Dabi, your perspective had changed. His rough touch was your drug of choice, intoxicating in all the best ways. And with him being gone for almost 72 hours? It was safe to say you were jonesing for a hit.

“Oooh, sounds like fun.” You purr, sprawling out on the mattress in a catlike stretch. “Want me to join you? I think we could use a little… quality time together.”

He snorts derisively at that, straightening up once he’d found his supplies and fixing you with a deep scowl. So pretty even when he’s pissed. You bat your eyelashes in return.

“Don’t get cute, dollface. Once I get cleaned up I’m passing out for the next century.”

Before you can shoot off another coquettish remark, he turns on his heel and marches out the door in the direction of the communal showers. You huff and clamber out of bed to follow him, determined that he wouldn’t get away so easily.

“C’mon Dabi!” You whine, trotting along behind him as he stalks down the hallway. “I haven’t seen you in days! Are you really just gonna give me the cold shoulder?”

“Yup.” He snaps back, shooting you a harsh glare over said shoulder before barging through the bathroom door. From the other side you can hear his bark of “Move it, psycho!” followed by an indignant squeak from whom you can only assume to be Toga. You huff and stamp your foot like a petulant child, turning on your heel to flounce off in the direction of the League’s bar front.

“Bastard.” You seethe under your breath, “Who does he think he is, ignoring me like that? It’s his fault I’m so pent up. If I tried ignoring him when he was all hot and bothered–!”

You pause for a moment as a lightbulb goes off in your head. A single impish thought flashes through your mind and it causes your lips to curl into a Cheshire grin. He wants to play games? You’ll give him games.

You continue your trek into the dimly-lit, woodpandeled speakeasy, a renewed vigor in your stride as you make a beeline for the bar top. Kurogiri is standing behind it as per usual, wiping out a pint glass like the faithful bartender he pretends to be. You sidle up to the bar and place both hands on the oaken surface, adopting a sweet, too-innocent lilt to your voice.

“Kuro-baby.” You purr, the cutesy pet name causing the misty specter to look up from his task. “Can I have a glass of water, please? With lots of ice, if you don’t mind.”

Wordlessly, Kurogiri sets down the glass and picks up a shorter one, using it to scoop up a generous portion of ice from the freezer below before filling it nearly to the brim from the tap. If he has any suspicion of you, he’s very good at hiding it. The same can’t be said for Shigaraki, sitting a few stools down from you and still tapping away at the buttons of his console.

“Fucking with Staples again?” He questions disinterestedly, followed by a hiss of annoyance when the game lets out a series of gunshots. He must have gotten himself killed again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You shoot back airily, swiping the glass from Kurogiri’s outstretched hand and hopping off your own barstool.

“It’s your funeral!” He calls after you, waving you off with one hand. You snicker as you march back into the living quarters, one hand wrapped around the chilled glass and the other flattened over the top to ensure you won’t spill a drop along the way. Soon you find yourself back in front of the bathroom door and, suppressing the urge to giggle, you slowly push through it and into the steamy room beyond. In spite of the hideout’s outward appearance, the place is surprisingly clean and well-kempt (all thanks to den mother Kurogiri). Two sinks stand against the left-hand side of the wall, with two doors opposite them leading to the toilets. Next to the sinks are the showers: three open-faced, tile cubes barely covered by flimsy plastic curtains. Toga is standing in front of the nearest sink, wearing a skimpy pair of Hello Kitty pajamas and washing the blood and goop from her latest transformation out of her navy, pleated skirt. She looks up at you when you enter and you quickly put one finger to your lips, smirking as you point between the glass and the running shower beyond. Toga lets loose a sadistic giggle of her own before hastily shushing herself when you hear Dabi’s bark of “Pipe down out there!”

As you move past her, you can see her mouth the words, “You’re so dead, big sis.”

You can feel a jolt of adrenaline course through your veins as you sneak up to the edge of the tiled wall separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom, the glass in your hand shaking briefly. A small amount of water sloshes over the rim and spatters onto the floor, the sound barely overshadowed by the shower.

“Doll?”

His low, rumbling voice coming from the other side of the curtain sends another shiver down your spine.

“What are you up to out there?” He growls dangerously, as if he has a sixth sense when it comes to you and your shenanigans. For just a moment, the rational part of your brain takes over and makes you question your actions. Dabi’s already in a foul mood, and getting worse by the second by the sound of it. Maybe if you hold off and behave like a good girl–

Your body seems to move of its own accord. The next thing you know, the contents of the glass are sailing through the air, arching high over the plastic curtain rod and landing with a messy splat onto your unwitting victim on the other side.

“What the fu–!” Dabi’s curse is cut off by yours and Toga’s mad giggling as you sprint out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Passing by a very confused-looking Spinner, you dart inside Dabi’s room and slam the door, locking it for good measure. Seconds later, he’s pounding on it, using enough force that you’re convinced it might splinter and break off its hinges.

“Open this door right now and make this easier on yourself!” He roars, furiously jiggling the handle.

You let him pound away for a few more seconds, in part to allow yourself time to catch your breath but mostly to delay the unenviable punishment. With a deep, steadying breath, you plaster on a mildly amused expression, undo the lock, and pull open the door. Dabi is visibly seething, water dripping from his hair and cascading in rivulets down his toned chest onto the towel slung low on his hips. His brows are knitted together in rage, turquoise eyes flashing dangerously while one hand is still raised in a fist.

“Oh hey, babe. Done with the shower al–?”

His hands are around your throat before you can blink, your sassy remark devolving into a high-pitched squeak.

“You little bitch.” He spits at you, forcibly backing you further into the room as he advances. “Was that your idea of a joke?”

“N-no.” You gasp in response, voice slightly raspy from the pressure on your jugular. “I just thought–“

“Thought what exactly?” Dabi growls, kicking the door shut behind him with one foot before giving your shoulders a hard shove and pushing you onto the bed. You land with a slight bounce, the momentum giving you just enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Well?” He hisses, venom dripping from the word as he glares down at you.

“I was worried.” You start slowly, tone almost loving as you gaze up at him with big, doe eyes. “You seemed so tense when you got back. And don’t think I didn’t notice those new burns on your arms. So I thought, since the mission was so hard on you…”

Your face suddenly splits into a shit-eating grin.

“I thought you might need to cool down for a minute.”

Dabi blinks for a second, seemingly struck dumb by your remark. And then his hands are back on you in an instant, roughly flipping you over to lie chest-down with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Of all the stupid–“

Your shirt is ripped over your head from behind.

“Immature–“

There goes the bra, clasps and straps lost to a wildfire of blue flames as it falls away from your body in a charred heap.

“Bratty little schemes.”

Your leggings and panties are harshly yanked down, slipped off, and discarded into some unknown corner of the room. You feel cool air hit your legs and backside, moments before a harsh slap lands on your right cheek. With a yelp, you cast a wide-eyed glance over your shoulder at the menacing presence behind you; a pillar of rage and sadistic urges looming over your naked form.

“You wanted my attention that badly, dollface? Well I’m sorry to say you’ve got it now.”

Before you can react beyond a pained, needy whimper, Dabi hooks his right arm under your thighs to haul you up and onto the bed. He lays his full weight across your back and reaches around and underneath the farthest edge of the bed to produce a simple, black cuff, attached to the nylon spreader running along the underside of the mattress. Giving it a few cursory tugs, he grabs ahold of your right wrist and yanks it towards the corresponding corner, attaching the device with practiced speed and precision. You continue to writhe and pant below him, muttering a litany of curses and “no’s” as he does the same to the opposite side. You’re now bound by both wrists, unable to do more than thrash wildly on the mattress in a humiliating, spread eagle position.

“Seems like you need a reminder of who’s in charge around here.” He snarls in your ear, pushing himself off of you and marching over to his discarded pile of clothing. You can hear the soft rustle of fabric, followed by the telltale clink of metal on metal that makes your eyes go wide.

“Y-you wouldn’t dare…” You start breathlessly, just before the first blinding sting of leather greets your exposed skin, right at the juncture where the soft swell of your ass meets the tender flesh of your thighs.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Dabi says mockingly, his tone dripping with false pity and saccharine sweetness as he takes his place at the edge of the bed once more. “I don’t have any problems dealing with a mouthy… little… brat like you.”

His words are punctuated by three more vicious blows, this time striking the meatiest part of your ass and sending the pliant flesh jiggling. The metal rivets in his belt only add to the pain, biting into your rapidly heating flesh and causing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. Shifting your hips in a futile attempt to get away from Dabi and his newfound torture device, you roll partly onto your side and look over at him with watery, pleading eyes.

“S-sir… Dabi, please!” You sputter out, voice already wavering as your resolve crumbles beneath the stinging sensation. But Dabi’s not in the mood for bargaining. Instead, he growls as he wraps an arm around your waist and shoves his left knee underneath your belly, hiking your ass further into the air.

“Hold still!” He barks at you, another crack of his belt sending a fresh wave of searing pain along your already raw skin. You scream in agony, unable to do more than wriggle and squirm against his hold.

“Start counting, brat.” He demands huskily, your only warning before the next punishing spank meets your burning flesh.

“One!” You gasp out, “I’m sorry! Please–!”

Another blow lands, somehow harder than all the others, revisiting the spot where ass and thigh meet and causing you to wail in pain.

“Too late for apologies, dollface. The only thing I wanna hear from that slutty little mouth is counting. Understand me?”

The arm looped around your waist tightens in warning, and you hiccup before sputtering out a shaky, “T-two.”

“That’s more like it.”

He continues spanking you at a steady pace, the only respite coming when he pauses to hear you choke out the next number. By ten strokes, you’re bawling. By fifteen, you’re practically brain dead, unable to quell the sobs that wrack through your body or think beyond the next count. He mercifully stops at twenty, dropping the belt and loosening his own grip on you. All you can focus on is the burning pain radiating out from your tanned backside, sobbing as you bury your face into the pillow below you for comfort. Dabi’s own breathing is heavy and ragged, and he takes a few deep, measured breaths to steady himself. After a few moments, that hand that once held his belt is carefully laid on the curve of your ass, and you gasp both at the gentle touch and the shock of prickly pain it brings. Judging by the way he strokes the heated flesh, you’re sure the silver eyelets have left a series of bruises behind.

“S-s-sir.” You blubber, “I’m... I…”

“Shhhh, quiet down.” He says softly, voice uncharacteristically tender as he runs his hand along the width of your heated cheeks. “It’s over now. You did so well.”

The unexpected praise makes you whimper beneath his affections, devolving into a quiet moan as his hand travels even lower, fingers coming to rest at the entrance to your heated core. He begins to gently massage at your folds, middle finger slipping inside to find you impossibly wet and clenching around the digit.

“You filthy little thing…” He breathes out on a chuckle, “Are you really that turned on by me beating the hell out of your cute little ass?”

His finger delves deeper, pussy eagerly sucking him in as you keen below him. His free hand begins to lightly scratch up and down your back, goosebumps rising in the wake of each careful caress. Without thinking, you shift further onto your knees, fighting through the pain to push against his hand.

“Please, Sir.” You moan wantonly, “More. Please.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi slips a second finger inside of you and begins to languidly pump them in and out. Pain and pleasure meld together in a sinful symphony, pants and whimpers coming from you as you rock your abused body against his own scarred flesh. He adjusts the angle and crooks his fingers downwards, curling them just shy of that sensitive bundle of nerves you know would have you seeing stars. Your back arches as you hungrily push against him, dignity forgotten in the face of pure, carnal desire.

“Getting impatient, are we?” He growls teasingly, fingers suddenly slipping out from your sopping core and wrenching a high-pitched whine from the back of your throat. He moves off the bed entirely, ordering you to stay put as he walks over to the nearby dresser and opens up the top drawer. Like the cuffs would allow you to do anything otherwise.

“Ah, here we go.” He says after a few seconds of rummaging, striding back over to the bed and taking up residence behind you. You feel the mattress dip under his weight seconds before his hands find your hips, roughly hauling them upwards and forcing your face further into the pillows. You shriek as he grabs ahold of your left cheek and squeezes harshly, pain shooting up your spine like a bolt of summer lightning. Something hard and cool prods at your quivering entrance, briefly brushing against your clit before being plunged inside of you. The sudden stretch feels at once too much and deeply satiating, sending burning, pleasurable heat licking across your oversensitized nerves. Once the toy is sunk to the hilt, Dabi gives a short grunt of satisfaction before sliding off the bed and circling around to lean over your quivering form. You turn your head to face him and he smirks at the sight of your fucked out expression: eyes red and puffy, cheeks streaked with half-dried tears, lips swollen from the bluntness of your own teeth.

“Aren’t you a sight?” He hums lowly, brushing away an errant strand of hair to plant a condescending kiss to your temple. “Such a needy little slut for me.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi pats your cheek, straightens up, and turns towards the door.

“Wait!” You squeak out, squirming against your restraints as you watch his retreating back. “You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“That’s the plan, dollface.” He shoots back, casting you a wicked grin over his left shoulder as he pulls the door open. “At least until I finish my shower.”

[sparkkeyper]

A Matter of Trust

My take on the “night at Crowley’s flat” fic. 

Swapping faces requires complete trust. Unfortunately, Aziraphale has not been particularly honest leading up to Armageddon and it's hard to overcome that doubt.

Words: 2295

Warnings: None

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

"You really think she meant switching our actual faces?"

"I've been over it a dozen times and I'm quite sure. I've had the last 72 hours to become familiar with Agnes' peculiar brand of predictions."

Crowley blew out a long breath and took another sip of his coffee. It was the deepest hour of the night. Darkness pressed around the outside of his flat, threatening at the edges of the LED lighting. "Put a lot of stock in this prophecy, do you?"

Aziraphale nodded from where he sat nearby on the couch, the torn slip of prophecy on the cushion between them. "Absolutely. Every prediction in her book came to pass exactly as she saw it. If this is the scenario we're up against, then 'choosing our faces wisely' is our best shot at surviving it."

"Suppose that's settled, then. Once Above and Below start after us, they won't stop unless we really give them a good reason."

"I agree. Now, this will require complete trust and extraordinary focus in order to work. It isn't like lending someone a scarf."

"That's the point, I thought. Something neither side will see coming."

"Exactly. All right then." Aziraphale wriggled a bit on the couch, bracing himself. "Are you ready?"

Crowley set down his coffee and flexed his fingers. "Ready."

Aziraphale held out his hand and the demon took it. Swap with him.

Nothing happened.

"Er..."

"Ngk. Hang on." Crowley gave himself a shake. "Been a long day and all that. Lemme just refocus. Right, let's do it." He took the angel's hand again. Swap. With. Him.

Again, nothing happened.

There were several long, awkward seconds.

Get it together, you stupid snake. This is important. This could be the most important thing you've ever done. This is Aziraphale. Best friend for centuries. You know what to expect from him.

He did know what to expect. That was the problem.

The moment was stretching on far too long. He dropped the angel's hand like it had burned him and scrubbed his palms over his soot-stained face.

"Crowley?"

"It's fine! I'll make it work, give me a blessed break."

He stood and paced the room for a moment while Aziraphale sat stiffly on the couch, watching him. "Is there anything I can do to...to facilitate things? I'm not sure what the problem is."

"There's no problem, it's fine," Crowley snapped. "I've got this. Just worry about your end of it and I'll worry about mine. Right!" He spun on his heel with his hand out and Aziraphale stood to match him. "Swap, then!"

He clasped the angel's hand and tried. He could feel the miracle simmering somewhere in the ether, attempted but not complete. He reached for it, he reached with all his might.

"Crowley-"

"I can do this," he insisted, a pit forming in his stomach. He'd just held his car together for 40 miles, he could believe one little idea for 5 seconds.

"Crowley-"

"I can do this!"

"Oh for goodness' sake-"

The angel was frustrated. He had every right to be but that was beside the point. A frustrated Aziraphale got indignant. A frustrated Aziraphale stormed off.

A frustrated Aziraphale pulled away when they needed most to stick together.

Crowley blessed savagely and spun, stomping for the balcony.

"Where are-"

"I just...I need to get some air." He slammed the door behind him before Aziraphale could respond.

The night breeze from so many stories up was like a slap in the face. Crowley welcomed it, leaning heavily on the balcony railing and burying his face in his hands. He couldn't do the miracle. Not that he didn't want to - he'd rarely wanted anything so much in his life. But he couldn't get his heart into it the way it needed to be.

We're not friends!

It wasn't true, of course. But it was something Aziraphale had wanted to be true. Because it would make the angel's life so much less complicated. Crowley was a friend...until he wasn't. Crowley occupied a place of esteem...until he didn't. Aziraphale worked so very hard to view a messy world in a manageable way and sometimes cuts had to be made.

His coffee sat suddenly on the railing because it knew what was good for it, and when he raised it to his lips it obligingly added a considerable amount of whiskey.

If they couldn't do the swap, they had no future. The Earth had a new lease on life tonight, but if they couldn't swap it would be at the price of their own. He knew Hell would show no mercy and he couldn't fool himself into thinking Heaven would. But Aziraphale... When it came to Heaven, Aziraphale could fool himself into thinking a lot of things.

I don't even like you!

Even if I did I wouldn't tell you! We're on opposite sides!

Aziraphale, who always had excuses to fall back on.

Aziraphale, who had a book with the Antichrist's address and hadn't told him.

Aziraphale who, when the world was on the brink of destruction, had kept calling out to Heaven.

If it came down to their partnership or Heaven, Heaven was the first to be appeased, no contest. Crowley understood his reasons. Aziraphale was, at his core, an angel. He treasured that identity even if he disagreed with his superiors and assignments. He held out hope in goodness, in Her, in a way Crowley never could. He wanted so badly for everything to turn out nice and good in the end, and Crowley could not take that from him.

When Heaven couldn't provide, Crowley was there to be his safety net. But Heaven was always, always first.

The balcony door clicked behind him and hesitant footsteps stepped out into the night. "If there's anything I can do to help you focus, you need only ask."

Crowley couldn't bring himself to look at him. "Focus isn't the problem."

Aziraphale was quiet for a very long moment. "Oh," he said softly.

There was no shock in his voice. No condemnation either. Crowley wondered if it would take some time to sink it, given everything that had already happened to them tonight, but as Aziraphale joined him at the balcony railing he knew that the angel understood what this meant.

Dull blue eyes followed Crowley's gaze out over London and Aziraphale took a slow sip of his tea. "This is my fault, isn't it?"

"Don't," Crowley told him tiredly. "What's done is done."

"But the consequences are ongoing. And will be for a long time, I expect." Aziraphale sighed heavily. "I am responsible, I won't pretend otherwise."

"I tried," Crowley confessed, the words barely audible over the background hum of the city. "I truly did."

"I don't doubt it."

A breeze wandered in. Tousled through red and blonde hair. Wandered somewhere else.

"I suppose I ought to at least ask...was it slow over time or was it because of this past week?"

Crowley didn't answer for a moment, taking another sip of his coffee. "Bit of both."

"Mmm." Aziraphale nodded, not particularly surprised by this. "I should have seen this coming, really. I should have seen a good many things coming."

"Stop it," the demon muttered. "You can't see everything coming. Something something ineffability."

"Is just one of the excuses I've been hiding behind for a very long time. And now it's caught up with me. With us." He sighed. "I suppose it's not just evil that contains the seeds of its own destruction."

Crowley didn't have the energy to come up with a biting response. He just looked exhausted. "I don't regret a minute of it, you know," he murmured. "The Arrangement. You and I. Wouldn't trade it for anything." There were dark circles under his eyes. "But I can't trust you the way I'd need to for this to work. I wish I could. I've tried. I just can't do it."

Aziraphale grimaced to hear the words out loud, but did not dispute it. How could he? "I don't blame you. You're right - it's not fair to ask you to trust me when I've squandered your trust so thoroughly."

We're not friends, hung thick in the air between them.

"Not that I think you don't care," Crowley clarified. "I know you do. You're terrible at hiding it, really. And you came to find me today before it all ended. That's not nothing." He took another sip of coffee. "But you also lied to my face. Repeatedly."

"I did," the angel acknowledged quietly.

"While the world was ending."

"Yes."

"That hurt, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale bit his lip hard. "I know. I'd take it back if I could. But I suppose it's too late to make a difference now."

They stood in silence for a time. Then Crowley sighed and turned back to the flat. "Come on. It's been a long day. There's wine in the kitchen, we may as well enjoy it while we can before they come for us."

The angel followed him inside and watched as he pulled glasses from a cabinet. "Thank you again for allowing me to stay the night. You didn't have to, after everything."

"Stay as long as you like," the demon uncorked the wine bottle. "Your shop's gone. Fuck's sake, I'm not a monster."

"No." Aziraphale's expression was very, very soft. "You're not."

Crowley took off his sunglasses and looked up at him at last: this demon whose heart had been broken too many times. "I want you to be all right, Aziraphale. I need you safe. I need you alive. I want to see you happy. But I don't know how far I can meet you."

"I can't say I'm surprised, after all I've put you through," the angel admitted ruefully. "Denying we were ever friends, or insinuating that you were somehow less than I. I've been a rather dreadful friend to you over the centuries."

Crowley hung his head, wine forgotten. "I know why you keep us at a distance and I know why you lied about the boy. You were doing what you thought was best at the time. I can't blame you for that. But to do what that prophecy wants, when push comes to shove I need to believe with all my heart that you won't leave me hanging. And I...I can't bring myself to believe that." He scrubbed his hands across his face. "Given time I might, but we don't have time. I can't do it. And I hate it. Because that's going to get you killed. I need you alive but once they come for us, I won't be able to save you. Not this time."

"You talk as though you're not in danger yourself," Aziraphale's face crumpled. "Crowley, if Below gets their hands on you they will destroy you utterly. I will not let that happen. I can't take back what I've said but you are the dearest thing in this world to me and I'm not going to stand back and let them take you."

Crowley looked like he was trying so very hard to hope but just couldn't get there. "I want to believe that, I really do. But I can't do blind faith like you can. I don't have it in me anymore."

Aziraphale closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the demon's. "I'm not asking you to forgive what I've done. And I'm not asking for blind faith. Goodness knows how much trouble that's caused." His voice cracked at that but he plunged onward. "I'm only asking you to believe me when I say that I will not let Hell have you. If we cannot switch our faces, we will find another way."

"But your prophecy. Agnes-"

"Agnes be damned." That shut Crowley up. Tears glistened on the angel's cheeks. "If I have to march Down There after you. If I have to take up a sword. If I have to stand between you and God Herself. I swear to you on everything that I am, I will not let Hell have you."

And in that brief moment, for just that one promise in a sea of other broken ones, Crowley believed he was telling the truth.

His hand scrabbled for Aziraphale's and he pushed for all he was worth before he could lose this moment, he pushed every atom of his soul into the heart of his best friend, gave him everything that he was and ever could be, and in that instant he trusted Aziraphale to keep him safe.

And then Aziraphale was pouring into him and Crowley opened himself up and let it happen, let him seep into every muscle, every bone, every molecule of his being -

-and suddenly there was no difference between them, there was no angel, no demon, just a tumult of soul and hope and pain and fear and resolve and-

Crowley tumbled out the other side like falling out of bed. He gasped in a strangled breath, stumbling backwards into the kitchen counter and staring suddenly into his own face. He stared down at his clothes - beige - and his hands - manicured - and back up, feeling the warmth of his best friend's corporation surrounding him like a blanket. Aziraphale, in Crowley's, did much the same.

There was stunned silence in the flat as they let this sink in. Then one of them snapped, or maybe both, and suddenly Crowley's face was buried in the collar of a stinking, burnt leather jacket and Aziraphale was crushing him close, and both were squeezing so hard the other could scarcely breathe.

"Thank you," Aziraphale managed at last. "For trusting me enough to let me save you."

"Not if I save you first," Crowley choked out, and broken giggles filled the flat.

(Also on AO3!)

[lookoolah]

love in every sip (1.9k) read on ao3 for the “coffee” square on my @tonystarkbingo flash card

Tony startled himself awake when he made a move to get into a more comfortable position on the tiny couch that was clearly not meant for sleeping on, which he certainly had a difficult time learning over the course of the years that the tiny couch had found its way to Tony’s workshop (with some help from Pepper, probably). He wasn’t sure whether he woke up in the millisecond that he was hovering in the air between the ridiculous couch and the ground or when he facepalmed into the floor, but awake he definitely was. 

“Ow, shit.” He groaned, looking up vengefully at the stupid sofa. “J, as soon as you can, place an order for the biggest, comfiest couch you can find on the internet, thanks!” He gritted out through his teeth, hoping that the tiny couch felt insecure and unlovable. 

“Right away, Sir.” 

He looked up at the StarkPad displaying the time that he had perched on top of his coffee-table as a make-shift digital clock (whoever said he wasn’t one for interior design?). It was 9am, anyway, so he might as well be getting up now. That is if he was pretending to be a healthy functioning human being that didn’t spend the last 72 hours in his workshop and fell asleep 3 hours ago on this stupid, unlovable couch. 

He made his way to the main kitchen, waving sleepily at the team that was lively bickering in the breakfast nook. Oh right, that’s what they looked like, other people. He thought it would be a good idea to brush his teeth before any silverware made contact with the inside of his mouth lest it immediately corroding. 

After spending way too long sitting on the toilet because his body seemed to enjoy falling asleep in the most uncomfortable of places, he finally made his way back to the now-empty kitchen, where on the counter he found a steaming coffee in the Iron Man mug from the Avengers mugs set that Clint thought was the perfect $15 Christmas gift for the people that literally risked their lives by his side on day-by-day bases. Tony frowned, walking over to the island, unsure whether he blanked out and made coffee in the short interval of semi-wakefulness between sleeping in odd places. He spotted a napkin next to the mug, where a neat cursive looked back at him.

“Good morning, Tony. Please stop pulling all-nighters for three days straight,”  it said. 

Huh? Tony really only had the energy to ponder about when, by whom, and why the note was written and the coffee made for a total of ten seconds before his sleep and caffeine-deprived mind short-circuited and he gave in to the inviting aroma of the drink. And, well, whoever his barista in shining armor was unquestionably knew just how strong and sweet Tony liked his coffee (that being, real strong and real sweet). 

☕.

He really didn’t expect it to become an ongoing thing. He didn’t expect that the next morning, upon walking into the kitchen (from his bedroom this time, thank fuck ) he would be met with the same Iron Man mug on the counter with another napkin neatly placed next to it, its edge tucked under the mug as if to make sure that the soft blow of air from the air conditioning wouldn’t blow it away, care written all over the scene. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead. Glad you actually got some shuteye tonight, finally. Hope you have a good day.” 

Tony read the note over a few times, twice in his head, and once under his breath, with a small smile that he didn’t notice was there until Steve, who was apparently in the pantry, called attention to it. 

“Cheery this morning, huh?” 

“Oh, uh,” Tony looked up from the napkin in his hand, trying to hold back the smile, “You tripped and fell in my dream, still laughing at it.” He lied, protectively wrapping his hands around the warm Iron Man mug. 

Steve chuckled in response, putting down the box of Lucky Charms and reaching above the sink to grab himself a bowl.

“You want some cereal?” He asked, putting down a bowl in front of Tony without waiting for a response. 

“So courteous of you, Cap,” Tony started filling his bowl with milk while Steve was pouring cereal into his, “And they say chivalry is dead.” 

Steve made a face at him, probably about to give a schpiel about why would you pour the milk first, Tony? 

“Why would you pour the milk first, Tony?” He said, handing Tony the Lucky Charms and taking the milk from his hands. 

“Because I’m a certified genius, that’s why.” Tony winked, taking a sip from his coffee. Shit, so perfect again. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to see who made this coffee, would you?” He asked tentatively, filling his bowl with cereal. 

“Didn’t you make it?” Steve canted his head in confusion and brought the spoon to his lips. 

“No, actually, I didn’t,” Tony took another sip of his coffee, “I wonder who did, though.” This time, as he looked down at the dyed marshmallows in his milk, he failed to notice both the involuntary smile he pressed into the rim of his Iron Man mug and the one Steve stifled around a mouthful of his cereal.

☕️.

The random coffee offerings in a particular Iron Man mug and a neat cursive turned regular from then on, and it was starting to become clear that his barista in shining armor was really more of a secret admirer expressing their affections through coffee beans. 

The mugs waited for him at the counter almost every morning, the team off at a mission, the team just sitting down for breakfast, the team finishing up breakfast. The mugs were on a coaster on his desk when he fell asleep at it while working on a new design, while fixing an old design, while ignoring emails from some super important government officials. The mugs, for fucks sake, were sat on an old paperback next to the tiny couch that Tony continued to fall asleep on, even after the biggest, comfiest couch on the internet arrived. 

“Good morning, hope you slept well. You look adorable with bedhead.” 

“Heard you walking around late last night, I wish I could drive off all your nightmares with a broom.”

“Stop falling asleep at your desk, idiot, your neck will get stuck like that.” 

“That couch looks like it’s not meant for sleeping on.” 

Tony found himself growing more and more fond at every note, every word, every sip. He didn’t think that it was possible for him to look forward to his daily dose of caffeine more than he already did, but this new routine indisputably made him jittery with excitement every morning. 

He started to watch the team closely, in an attempt to figure out their tells. Who saw me this morning with my bedhead? Who likes to broom? Who doesn’t like tiny uncomfortable couches?

But, alas, none of the notes had been specific enough to pinpoint someone or even narrow down the list, and Jarvis was refusing to give him any information on the grounds of some “No Stalking Protocol, Sir” bullshit. 

That was, of course, until the afternoon that Nick Fury, somehow Tony’s saving grace in this mystery, called him up to his office. Tony plopped down on the chair in front of the desk, crossing his leg and taking a sip of his smoothie. 

“You should really try this place from down the block someday, I hear they grow all their shit themselves.” He took another sip, the little to no remnants on the bottom of the cup loudly coming up the straw. “Ugh, to die for!” 

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Nick rolled his eye, and Tony wondered whether The Nick Fury Eyeroll pre tragic eye loss accident was more or less puissant. “I need you to look over this report that Rogers submitted and discuss with the team whether or not every update that you insist on installing in their suits has really been necessary.” Nick handed him a transparent folder and Tony cringed at both the utmost ludicrous implication that advancement is not always necessary and at the prospect of paperwork. “It seems to me like on this particular mission they were more of a disruption rather than advantage.” 

Tony flipped open the file and looked up at Nick through his eyelashes, taking one final loud sip of his Blueberry Mist smoothie. 

“I’m sorry, did you just allude to that progress is not an essential part of human existence? My goodness, I did not know you to be such a conservative, Nick!” He clapped a hand over his heart, prompting another eyeroll. The eye patch, Tony thought, definitely made it more effective. 

“Stop bullshitting me and just look over the report, Stark.” Tony chuckled and looked down at the paper, a neat cursive looking back at him. 

“Uh,” He cleared his throat, flipping through the pages and staring at the way the letters braided into each other, just like on the napkins Tony read sweet nothings form every morning. He looked up at the top of the paper, where next to the printed “Name” it read in pretty, oh-so-pretty cursive, “Captain Steven Rogers.”

☕.

Steve woke up from a dull migraine that he had been nursing for the past week or so. He sighed, taking a large sip of the lukewarm water from the bottle he had discarded in his room a few days ago. Everyone was always talking about how important drinking water is nowadays, but Steve was never really a fan of health schticks anyway. As he made his way to the kitchen, he asked his own brain not for the first time this week why it wasn’t healed by the oh-so-magical properties of the oh-so-magical serum. A look at the digital clock in the elevator told him it was 7am on a Sunday, and he tried to remember what time it was last night when Tony excused himself to his bedroom from movie night, claiming that he was too exhausted for thrillers that evening. 

Stepping into the kitchen, however, he was met with a sleepy Tony in an oversized gray Led Zepellin hoodie and plaid pajama pants, sitting Indian Style in the breakfast nook with an Iron Man mug in his hands, taking small sips from it and the smell of coffee traveling from the coffeemaker on the kitchen counter to Steve. 

Oh. He felt the pang of disappointment in his chest at the realization that Tony woke up earlier than him. This week really didn’t like Steve much, did it? 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Tony broke the silence and Steve felt some of the disappointment dissipating at the raspy sleep-deprived timbre of Tony’s voice, “I made coffee,” he nodded over to the island that Steve was standing in front of, “I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Why would I ―” Steve cut himself off when his eyes landed on the Captain America mug from the Avengers mugs set that Clint thought was the perfect $15 Christmas gift for the people that literally risked their lives by his side on day-by-day bases. Steve felt his heart skip a beat and he held his breath as he reached out and pulled the mug towards him. Under it, of course, there was a napkin with a blocky print scribbled over it. 

“You’re not as slick as you think you are, Mr. Rogers.

Busy tonight?” 

[flamingo-writes]

You’ll Still Be Mine — Law x Reader

Summary: After losing Ace in the Paramount War, and being saved y the Heart Pirates, you notice how Trafalgar Law has a certain interest in you. The rest of the Heart Pirates notice the special treatment you receive from the captain, and they can’t help but wonder what’s gotten into their captain. 

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: I have no clue why I took so long to write this xD I’ve been thinking of this all week long and took approximately five days to write it. This week was way too stressing for me, I’ve hardly been able to write due to the stress. Anyways, have some Law, I know you’re all thirst for this emo cutiepie. 

Warnings: a little bit of angst, mentions of death, smut. Of course, Marineford Spoilers in case you haven’t gotten to that part and in case you haven’t read the summary xD

So much had been taken away from you after the Paramount War. For starters, your brother. Seeing Ace falling on the ground broke your heart at once. All that adrenaline collapsed, and what followed were bitter tears, and a pain that you’d never felt before. A new acquired hole in your chest. 

The sound of Luffy crying loudly only fed that pain, like poison burning your entire body with denial. The echo rumbling through your bones, consuming what was left of your sanity.

However, over time, Ace’s departure still felt surreal, the pain, however, was still fresh. But you could see, you could feel a very slight improvement. Maybe it was Law. 

After you escaped with Luffy and the Heart Pirates, you didn’t take long before befriending Law. And it all happened while Luffy was in the Intensive Care Unit in the submarine, the first 72 hours after the incident. 

“How come you’re Luffy’s sister?” Law asked incredulous after talking to you for 20 minutes. 

“Why is it so hard to believe?” You giggled rather amused.

“You’re so serene and controlled. You actually say smart things…” Law said lying back on his seat as he looked at you. 

“I was the oldest sister, the one watching over three little tornadoes” 

“Three?” Law raised his eyebrow.

“Doesn’t matter” You quickly added, avoiding his stare “I still have one little tornado to look after...and I’m glad I do. If I’d lost Luffy too, I’d definitely gotten mad…” 

“I’m sorry, [Name]-ya” He purred.

“I am too, Law. But we can’t change the past, there’s no point in keep crying about it” You said swallowing down the lump on your throat. 

Law had been very nice to you. Or maybe it was that instant chemistry between the two of you. He was gentle, and always tried to distract you whenever he found you crying by Luffy’s bed. In the first 36 hours of knowing him, he’d given you coffee, tea, and sat with you to talk about everything else, keeping your mind busy. And you appreciated it. 

“Why are you so nice to me, Law?” 

“I’m a doctor. I’m supposed to help those in need. Besides, I like you. You’re clever, and from what you’ve told me, you sound like someone to not mess with. I mean, you kept up with Ace-ya and Luffy-ya’s bullshit for years, that’s admirable on its own…" 

I like you, he had said in a friendly matter. Or at least that was what you both believed. At least until one of those many times Law found you crying, he held you tightly as you continued to cry with your face hidden in the crook of his neck. A week or so after meeting him 

"[Name]-ya, listen to me" He purred, breaking the hug, but holding your face in his hands. "Do you think this is what Ace would've wanted? Having you cry every day for him, suffer every day for him? He's gone, and we can't change that. But you've gotta stay strong, you are very strong, [Name]-ya…" 

You leaned closer, resting your forehead against his cheek. You kept crying silent tears for a few seconds before looking up, back at Law. Your nose brushing his, as his dark grey eyes looked into yours. 

"After losing Sabo, I promised myself I wouldn’t let Luffy or Ace get hurt” You mouthed. Law had no clue who Sabo was. But easily filled in the blank by himself. He didn’t ask. 

“Stop torturing yourself, [Name]-ya” Law whispered. “You said it before, crying won’t fix things…” 

As the two of you kept whispering back and forth, still very close to each other, the crew gathered around the infirmary door, where they all tried to peek inside. This behaviour in their captain was so unreal. Law cared for his patients, like any doctor did. But he never even when to see them without a medical reason. However, he’d go to see you every once in a while just to have a chat. They knew their captain liked you. And that alone was so weird inside their heads. They didn’t even know Law was capable of being like that towards someone. 

“They’re kissing! Oh my god, they are kissing!” Penguin whispered a gasp. 

The crew still tried to remain silent but fought for their chance to slip a sneak. And as everyone got to see it, everyone muttered, both fascinated and terrified. 

The kiss tasted rather salty, as your tears made their way down your cheeks towards your lips. Still, the taste of coffee could be felt in Law’ mouth as his tongue teasefully caressed your lower lip. Slow and gentle. 

Breaking the kiss, Law’s nose brushed yours as he looked down at you. 

“Wanna go to my room, [Name]-ya?” He purred as his dark grey eyes lingered on yours. 

You were surprised by his question, not expecting him to be so straightforward. You knew what he meant by it, and the thought made your heart race fast and hard against your chest. You didn’t answer, however, you nodded, without being able to look away from him. 

The crew quickly dissipated from the infirmary room and all went to hide somewhere or pretend they were doing anything else but spy on Law. As the two of you left the infirmary, walking hand in hand, Law noticed how there was a trace of awkwardness expiring from everyone around except the two of you. Law then knew what his crew mates had been up to something, something he knew he didn’t want to know. 

Once in his room, the crew slowly gathered together, this time outside the closed bedroom door, mumbling and whispering. They were preparing for the worst. Whenever Law spent the night with someone, it was always loud. And by how it sounded like, it was rough. It was unbearable whenever Law brought someone into the Polar Tang while visiting an island. 

However as time went by, and nothing was heard yet. No violent rocking, no loud moaning, no screaming, no nothing. Bepo pressed his ear against the door, hoping to hear something. 

“Do you hear something?” Shachi kneelled next to Bepo.

“Yes” The bear answered, focusing n what he could hear. 

“What is it?” Penguin followed.

“Uhm….moans…” Bepo answered, clearly awkward from spying on Law. 

“That’s it?” Another pirate asked. 

“That’s it” 

The entire crew, more puzzled than ever exchanged looks. Their curiosity was killing them, usually, they hated to hear whatever happened inside Law’s room. But since he’d been acting very different around you, now everyone was dying to know what was going on inside. 

And what was going on inside was not precisely slow. It was both gentle and yet lustful. The way had you pinned against a wall, kissing your neck, biting you, sucking on your skin, made you moan delicious sounds to his ears. His hands were exploring the skin underneath your shirt, as he teased your skin, painting goosebumps as he went up and down your back, up and down your sides. Every now and then brushing our breast. 

“Law…” You whispered breathless as he kept nibbling on your neck. 

“Yes, babe?” His voice, oh, the way his voice hissed so silently, so lowly, made your knees weaker. “Tell me, darling. Let me hear your voice” He stole a kiss from your lips. 

You proceeded to take off your shirt and grab one of his hands, placing it over one of your breasts, as you leaned closer to Law. 

“Touch me” You mouthed. “Please” And just like he’d done before, you stole a kiss from him. 

His hand quickly tightened around your breast, squeezing it gently. Massaging it, he drew circles around your nipple with his thumb. 

“Impatient, are we?” He hissed as he broke apart and grabbed you by the waist, guiding you to the bed. As you laid on the bed, Law crawled on top of you,kissing his way up your belly. Lingering on your breast, where his teeth began teasing your nipple. 

The way you moaned, brushing his hair and neck, the way your body reacted to his. He was used to use others to please his needs. But something about you caught his attention. And boy, he hadn’t realized he’d been craving the taste of your lips, and now he wanted to savour the entirety of your body. However, for once, he was more eager to please you, keep prompting thouse breathless erotic sounds that came out of your mouth. Feeding into his own hunger. 

Soon, he couldn’t fight the urge to undress you and before you realize it, you were completely naked, at his mercy as he was kissing your thighs, making his way up. You felt your head get hotter and hotter as Law got close towards your sex. 

“If you want me to stop at any point, [Name]-ya, just tell me” Law purred. 

As much of a kinky guy he was, consent was important to him. And he always asked as part of his routine. 

“Do-don’t stop, Law…” 

Those three words made a grin spread through his face as he kissed your clit before his tongue started playing, exploring your folds with skilled passion. Quickly, your sight got blurry as everything you were aware of was Law igniting your body. 

“Bepo, what’s going on?” One of the pirates on the other side of the door murmured. 

“Still moaning, a few whispers every now and then, but I can’t hear what they’re saying…” 

“Do you think she bewitched the captain?” Penguin whispered. 

“Up to this point, I wouldn’t doubt it…” 

The pirates kept murmuring, intrigued, curious. Bepo’s blood suddenly got cold when the sounds suddenly stopped, followed by approaching steps. As the mink tried to crawl away from the door terrified of what was going to happen next, the crew looked at the bear, frowning confused at how Bepo’s eyes were cold with fear. Before anyone could ask, the door opened, and it was then that everyone knew why Bepo suddenly began acting the way he did. 

“Do you mind?!” Law growled in a low voice. 

In a matter of seconds, no one was there. Everyone had fled to every other corner of the submarine, suddenly afraid of their captain. After everyone was gone, Law chuckled slightly amused by how their faces changed in a fraction of a second. He turned around, closing the door behind him, as his gaze returned to you, as you lied shaky on his bed. 

“Everything okay?” You whispered trying to catch your voice. 

“Yes, don’t worry…” He hissed walking back to the bed as he unbuttoned his black shirt and let it fall on the floor. Before he got on the bed, he undid his belt and his jeans as he slid them off his narrow waist. 

Crawling on the bed, he didn’t take his eyes off you, like a predator savouring his prey. 

“Where were we?” He purred as he kissed your things, placing them over his shoulders before continuing his trail of kisses up your belly and chest. Bringing your legs to your chest along with him. He finally met your lips. His tongue quick to tease yours. 

“Law” You breathed. “I want you” 

“Such a hasty little girl, aren’t you” He purred as he took off his underwear and lined up himself against your sex. “I want you to look at when I claim you as mine, darling” 

Your eyes, fogged with lust met his. The look in them spoke volumes. He was as impatient as you were, he was savouring this moment as his glare lingered on yours before he pushed himself deep in a quick thrust. 

You moaned louder than before as you felt him stretch your walls so sudden. Law, on the other hand, he grunted, fascinated by your wet warmth engulfing him so tightly, so deliciously. He took a few seconds before he went for another thrust, almost pulling out and going as deep as he could, stealing another embarrassingly loud moan. Soon, establishing a pace that was both too erratic, too desperate for the both of you. 

Law, was going crazy over how good you felt around him. That beastly instinct possessed him. Normally, he was the kind of lover to push his counterpart over the edge over and over again with such tease it was torturous, until they were begging. You on the other hand, he couldn’t keep that cool controlled mask on. He wanted to taste every inch of you, explore every inch of you, claim every last fibre of your body as his. 

As much as he hated it, he came first, but he didn’t stop there, he was determined to push you over the edge. And shortly after he climaxed, you followed, tightening around his even harder as your entire body shook, electrified by such  a spontaneous and intense orgasm. Your nails clawing to his back, as he bit your neck one last time, as both of your bodies seemed to relax, still tangled together. 

“Oh, Law” You gasped, breathing heavily. “God, I feel jealous of each and everyone of your previous lovers” 

“Same back at ya, babe” He purred sliding out, and lying on the bed next to you. “The things you do to me…” 

“Come again?” 

“Normally I’m not that impatient...something about you drives me crazy…” 

“You say that to everyone you bring here, Trafalgar Law” 

“Actually no. Normally I bring them here and once I’m done, off they go…But you?” He said gazing at you from the corner of his eye, as you both lied on your backs. “I’m not done with you, and even if I were, I wouldn’t let you go so easily...” 

“So you’re holding me hostage?” 

“Hmmm” He hummed. “I don’t think so. You came here voluntarily, and you’re still here because you want to” You didn’t answer back, and as time went by, his grin extended across his smile. “So, what is it going to be, [Name]-ya? Are you going to stay?”

“You’ll have to convince me” You said playfully. 

Law chuckled and rolled to his side, as he slowly made his way on top of you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you trapped him there as he leaned closer, kissing you slowly. You tried cupping his face in your hands, however, he pinned them down to the pillow as the kiss got more and more heated up.  

“I can make you feel better whenever you’re feeling down...or whenever you feel like it” He whispered breaking the kiss. “Stay…” He mouthet. 

“Are you...telling me to become one of you?” You looked into his grey eyes, as he kept pinning you down. 

“What do you say?” 

“I don’t know...” You sighed “I’d hate lo leave Luffy…He’s the only family I’ve got left…I’m sorry, Law”

“You don’t have to apologise…” Law added.

“Law, how much longer are you staying here in Amazon Lili?” 

“At least another week” 

“Let’s make the most out of that week, how about that?” 

“You’re going to make it harder to part ways, but I said I wasn’t going to let you go that easily, so, deal” He said leaning closer, kissing you once more, as if that kiss sealed the agreement. “Don’t forget, even when I’m gone, you’ll still be mine, got it?” 

“Aye, aye, doctor” You hummed into his lips. 

[shesawriter39049]

|FAMILY TIES| M| MAFIA AU| 4

FT: JOON/HOSEOK/YOONGI/JIN & A LIL JIMIN

GENRE: SMUT/ANGST

AU SUMMARY :  A powerful alliance made up of  4 families spanning over a decade, is suddenly turned on its head when one family has a new leader after an unexpected death. Well, let’s just say he’s not down to follow the somewhat civilized rules your families have inforced. Sooo now, it’s game on… 

WARNINGS: Semi public sex, light cum play, light spit play, VERY mild daddy kink (it’s mentioned like twice) light dom Tae, overstimulation, Toys (Finger bullet), dirty talk, non-protected sex, oral (F recieving) , Tae is Low key/High key whipped AF, That’s his baby.. 

WARNINGS NON SEXUAL: This chapter get’s a little dark, mentions of HEAVY drugs/ drug use(Cocaine, Heroine), violence, choking (Non-sexual), OD’ing, guns, language as per usual 

There’s a lot of storyline..but you guys learn A LOT in this one! It’s definitely worth the read..this is also a slightly darker chapter..

This is one of the last chapters where I’m...”forshadowing” if you will...so you need all of this!

There is 2 smutty moments within this as well!

You can read this as a stand alone, and not be completely lost but it would help if your familiar with the series ...Luxx/Luxxy is the OC’S nickname if you’re new here…

16k

LOCATION: Somewhere in the skies of China

(THE MORNING OF LEO’S VIEWING

FRIDAY 2AM)

The last time you saw Kim Taehyung cry was 10 years ago, at his mother's funeral, the last time you saw Kim Taeyung this broken...was ten years ago at his mother's funeral. Now here you are, laying in bed at 2AM on your jet, headed home, for Leo’s viewing, while Kim Taehyung literally wailed into your chest a combination of heartbreak and rage washing over his body. Draining out every ounce of energy he had until all he could do was sleep…

~~~~A GOOD 72-ISH HOURS PRIOR~~~~

LOCATION:Guadinino’s

Boston Isle 

Tuesday, 2 PM 

(Picks up where part 3 ends) 

You found yourself almost caressing the back of his head the more the reporter spoke, apparently it was some random nurse who found him. She said she was just driving home from work around 5am, and the light was left on, out of habit she just felt the need to see if everything was okay.

[Woman on the news being interview ]

“The position of his head, and the way his jaw laxed, could just appear as he was sleeping to the naked eye. But I’m an ER nurse have been for almost 15 years I recognized the symptoms right away. I tried to revive him prior to calling 911, even against my better judgment ,but he had been out for at least an hour, it was no use…” 

[Reporter]

“The police are still trying to put two and two together as it really doesn't make sense, there was cash in the car, as well as the car itself is a mystery. We have finally identified the young man in the car, his family as also been contacted-” 

Right as she was about to say his name, and ask if anyone knew anything to please contact the police he shot up, almost bolting for the door. Almost as if he knew the boys name it would seem all too real. Little did you know the actual reason is because Taehyung puropusly never asked him what his name was, granted he’s not stupid, his men knew, they even had a picture of his ID. But Tae felt like this boy deserved to have something for him, and him only...so his name was never spoken.

You contemplated back and forth for a couple moments before ultimately deciding to go check on him.

The sound of your heels echoing through the hallway of the “Employees only” area..trying to figure out where he could be “I’m over here..” The base in his voice rumbled off the walls , almost startling you, not expecting for him to actually reach out to you first.

You found him resting against the wall hands in the pocket of his jack, gazing up at the ceiling

 “ The boys did a full z30, and went over it with a black light..not that it even matters now.” Voice trailing off slightly as he brought his attention down to his boots, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers.

 “They actually ended up taking the car to some park,I guess they decided to change locations  after I knocked the mother fucker out. Opting to not sterilize an entire car on his property,while he tends to his dislocated dorsum. “ A slight smirk moved up his face as he gazed over at you “So if you're thinking I’m worried about me..I’m not..the plate was switched, garmin removed, and the cars not even registered. I’m just….” Shaking his head in slight disbelief as he runs over the past 24 hours in his head.  “I don’t think he really even knows how fucked up and dangerous this all really is, especially when Marcp barely knows what you're doin’ to begin with. He’s a walking death wish and he’s gonna fuck around and have it granted by someone that coud’ve been his ally!” 

Even though his tone was hushed you could still feel the anger radiating off his body, raking his fingers through his hair, sinking back into the wall. “Come’ere, I know you didn't come out here to listen to me bitch from a far…” Signaling for you with his fingers, trying to hide the smile that was tugging up your face as you swayed in his direction. Opting to give him his space, not in the mood to get your face cracked, emotions far too fragile for that right now. You’ll end up shooting his indecisive ass, at this point, so you opted to wait for the invite. 

Once you were in arms reach he pulled you into his frame, a slight squeal leaving your throat from how quickly he grabbed you.

One hand resting on the hinge of your jaw the other on your waist , palm soothing up the small of your back. “How are you feelin’?” The question threw you off a little you found your eyes fluttering away from his and he noticed instantly. Tilting your head until you had no choice but to look at him. Emphasises on the  word “you”  let  you know he was well aware that your always the one checking on him ..asking how he’s feeling. Now it’s his turn to do the same, I mean sure a good 17 years later but at least it’s a start right!? 

Letting a deep sigh leave your body before responding “I’m angry, confused, and a little scared if I’m being honest but-”

Cutting you off immediately , shaking his head, a scof rolling off his tongue “Over my dead body, will anything ever happen to you, so you can scratch that shit off your list of issues real quick..” He wasn’t asking , he was telling you how this was going to go and his tone left zero room for debate.

Tilting your head back slightly, blowing out a slow breath , you could feel your eyes burning as you kept fluttering them. Attempting to cut off the tears desperately trying to run down your face, funny thing is, even though you cried earlier today. That’s not a common trait for you no matter how upset you get, your not the most intune with your emotions either if we're being honest. You didn’t open up easily and hated, crying in front of people more than anything, you were just as much as a working progress as Taehyung.

The phrase “Over my dead body…”was used very frequently, typically over minor issues, even jokingly for most. But it would always hold a deeper, darker meaning in your heart, the last person to say that to you was your mother. Used in the same context as Kim Taehyung and she meant it, wholeheartedly!  You found yourself trying to pull away, not wanting to let him see you fall apart, because you knew you were going to. The more you tugged the tighter his grip became, “Tae please. Let. Me. Go…” You wouldn't look at him, staring up at the light fixture to your right, tone extremely dry, almost passive. The grip you held on his forearms got even tighter as you waited in silence,clinging to him almost desperately your actions polar opposite from your words.

He wasn’t going to fight you on this, if you wanted out..here ya go, the last squeeze on your waist wasn’t possessive. Almost comforting as if he was letting you know if you wanted to come back, he'd be right here. Tentatively loosening the grip he healed around your waist, letting you pull away from him, almost losing your balance in the process. Rocking forward slightly, not realizing how much you were leaning on him despite trying to pull away all at the same time. 

Yet you didn't move, the grip you held on his arms never faltered, they actually got tighter, dropping your gaze down to your feet. Your right leg starting to patter nervously as you felt your chest swelling, gently taking you back into his arms. Bringing your hips flush to his, I guess you never realized he eased you the same way you did him. The feeling of your chest rising and falling against his as you coxed yourself out of crying, a single tear managing to slip out of your right eye before you could stop it. Turning your head, brushing it onto your shoulder hastily, your grip tightening even more as both eyes started to betray you simultaneously. Even though you refused to look back at him, he could feel your stomach tensing as you tried to slightly choke back the tears that were now streaming down your face.. 

He did not force you to make eye contact, respecting your privacy in that aspect bringing his hands up to rub lightly circles into your back as he nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck.  A side of Kim Taehyung that few would ever get to see, bringing your arms up to wrap around his neck, cradling the back of his head in your hands. “I’m not going anywhere…” the words brushed against your skin, funny how he automatically knew what triggered this without you even having to say anything. You didn't respond, only squeezing him a little tighter before pulling back, almost aggressive whipping your face before raking your fingers through your hair. A sheepish smile tugged on the corners of your lips as you finally made eye contact with him.

Neither of you said anything as you stepped a little closer, soothing your hand down his chest, and stomach slowly. Suddenly feeling almost uncomfortably open and vulnerable in front of a man that’s been inside you more times that you can count. His eyes felt like they were burning straight through you as he gazed back in your direction. 

Suddenly feeling like this was all getting a little deeper than you could handle you found yourself feening for a distraction. Letting your hand have free reign to trickle down his zipper, trailing your fingers up and down his clothed length earning a hiss as he gripped your wrist.

“You know your thighs can’t handle another round from me right now, you need to fuckin chill before I have you bent over the bathroom counter.” Keeping the same calm tranquil tone he  had moments prior, despite how drastic the setting became. 

“Well ,maybe that’s what I need right now…” A not so subtle pout laid along your lips, earning an amused smirk to curl up his face, as he gazed down at you. 

His hand came up and coming up to grip the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging with just enough force to rip a whine from your throat. “Naughty” slipped past his lips in Korean making your giggle against his skin.

 Tilting your head upwards before pressing his lips to yours, slowly, almost teasingly licking his way into your mouth, which you welcomed effortlessly. Bringing his opposite hand down to cup your ass through your jeans..clawing at the material as you rolled your hips into his. A slight moan escaping your lips as he sucked your tongue back into his mouth,tilting his head a little so he could deepen the kiss.

The sound of footsteps, didn't phase the two of you, you've been caught doing worse, until Hoseok clears his throat, making the two of you finally allow each other to breathe. But in true Kim Taehyung fashion he didn't stop right away, he still let his tongue lingerie in your mouth. You were the one who broke it apart, starting to laugh against his tongue because you knew how close Hoseok was. 

You couldn't help but notice the almost pleased smirk that tugged on Hoseok’s lips, as he waited.

“Yes?” Brow quirked in Hoseok’s direction while his hand soothed up your back, acting as nonchalant as could be.

“I was just sent here to let you two know were flyin’ out of here to head back inwards in about an hour or so..the planes set to take off at around 5:30. That’s all..feel free to continue...there’s actually a spare bathroom down that corner, don’t ask me how I know” Dismissing himself with the cheekies smirk imaginable, before either of you could respond, or pick up on the fact the he said “Were flying out of here in about an hour” 

‘Ya know, I always think we're the definition of shameless, and then I remember there’s Hoseok and Bunny..” Smiling up at him, knowing the two of you were thinking about the same situation right now...

“Come to the bar with me…” Yanking on his arm slightly 

“I’m sorry are you telling me to go?" Brows furrowed at your blatantly demanding tone

“Obviously! Now come to the damn bar with me!!!!” 

Cocking his head to the side slightly, brow arched in slight amusement, as you went to saunter off as if you just knew he’d follow. Which he did, but not before winding his arm backward almost giving your ass whiplash as it landed on your right cheek until your yelped. Hopping off the ground slightly from the sudden impact. Eyes glaring back in his direction as you hissed from the lingering sting.

“Oh please ..” Eyes rolling to the back of his head at your faged annoyance, walking up behind you until his lips were nuzzled into your hair “I bet if I slid my hands down your panties right now, I’d find out you really felt about it.”

Stopping right in front of the door, two hinges are all that separated the two of you from a good 30+ mob affiliates yet it didn't stop you from grabbing his hand in your own. Siding it into your jeans to remind him, your not wearing any after your earlier endeavors. Guiding his hand up and down your heavily saturated lips as they coated his fingers, you couldn't help but smile contently at the sound that left his lips. A soft almost restrained moan ripped from his throat, reacling your neck to lay on his shoulder as you gazed up at at “Yup your right, I really fucking loved it..” The purr teased against his bottom lip, as you brought your hand up to wander through his hair. 

The playful atmosphere was long gone once he seamlessly slid two fingers in, pressing your chest against the wall  grinding his hips into your ass . Effortlessly curling his fingers upward probing the spot that had your knees buckling within seconds.

“Oh fuck…” 

“I really don't get it...do you just not want to be able to walk? Hmm..is that what it is? Is that why you contiously act like such a fuckin brat?” Sinking his teeth into the base of your neck until you knead out..almost pressing your face into the wall in attempts to muzzle yourself. The sound of him moaning out contently against your skin as you fell apart in his arms only added to the haze currently filling your head. 

Your broken cry was rudely interrupted by Tae’s phone ringing both of you instantly recognizing the ringtone as he slid it out of his pocket with his free, clicking it on speaker “You and Luxxy outside! We need to run over a couple things before you leave”

Sliding his fingers out, teasing them up and down your folds, pinching your clit between his fingers.“Okay yeah we're coming..” you could literally feel the smirk in his voice as desperately sink your teeth into your bottom lip. His father started rambling on about something else to Tae took him off speaker, slowly curling his fingers up your lips before freeing them from your jeans. Hissing slightly at the lack of contact as your body slouched against the wall. Trickling his fingers slowly admiring the way your juices coated them thoroughly..

“Oh, yeah of course, I mean it only makes sense..” Continuing casual conversation with his dad as he locked his eyes with yours, slowly lacing his tongue around his fingers before turning to walk away. Making sure to flick him off in the process…..

Turning around slightly once he realized a couple steps in you weren’t following “Ugh, Luxxy, we gotta go our father’s need us…” Purouselys saying it into the phone so his dad could hear a smirk tugged on his lips as he gestured for you to follow with those same two fingers “Come”. Even though he literally meant “Come” the tone he said it in screamed “Cum” and you were so ready to punch him dead in the throat!

~~~~

The last thing you wanted was sit, cozied up to Kim Taehyung, but more importantly, you don't need to give your fathers any reason to be concerned. Especially over something this..”Minor..so you sucked it up..no matter how badly you wanted to strangle his scrotum. Since he had the nerve to smile over at you fondly. 

“The helicopter should be here in the next half hour….” The two of you observed the way your father kept his eyes on the water, the tide starting to pick up slightly, as the sun was shifted  behind the clouds. Indicating rain was headed back this way sooner than later, the gloomy overcast starting to drape overhead again. 

“We've been wrecking our brains, trying to think of the best way to do this…” Pausing to take a puff on a cigar in his hand… ”Were trying to step back, and not hover so much but it’s hard, in our eyes you’ll always be our babies, and granted the two of you havent fully given as reason to be 100%  feel comfortable doing so either..” Mr.Kim’s eyes glared between the two of you but there was a playful twinge within his voice as he spoke.

A gritty chuckle leaving your father's lips at the current state of confusion plastered along your faces, still not quite sure why the two of you were called out here to begin with. “We just ...wanted to remind you that your...Notoriety sit’s differently out there, in the US, to the masses your Taehyung Khan, and Luxx Severiane the two bratty rich kids of Boston. In China, it suddenly becomes a lot more likely that your known as Blaise and Jae’s Grandchildren, that title comes with a lot of pride, a lot of respect and a lot more enemies.”  

You felt Tae’s thumb stroke your shoulder at that, the shift in conversation suddenly making you forget your petty disposition towards him. ;l

“We know you know this, it’s not your first time there, but it’s been a minute since you've gone together, and the airs just sitting a little thicker now. When it comes to the “Family Business” we prefer to be heard and not seen, but that’s kinda hard to do out there! So just ... be aware of your surroundings, and of the way people look at you, even more so than usual. Were already trying to move in silence as it is, there’s no proof it’s Marco, were just assuming. As we all know the gangs in China have always had a love hate relationship with us!  “ 

There was a conscious nod that left both of your bodies at that, there was really only one ally you all truly trusted and that’s because that bond was damn near 15 years old.

“Which is why were also sending Yoongi and Hoseok with you as well, we pulled Hoseok off the Tokyo drop Hong Joong’s going instead…” 

“How are we flyin in by the way?” It was like the two of you were working on one brain cell, that exact question hovering over your lips before he asked.

“Well, we thought about commercial….” 

Your nose was scrunched into your face at the sound of that earning a chuckle from the 3 men around you.

“You’ll live baby doll…” Your dad piped in as he rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the mini monster he’s created.

“-But we didn't trust that, that’s 15 hours on a flight with god knows who, either way you still have to clear customs. We've taught you well enough to handle your own so you're flying private . Be careful, be alert, and figure out what the fucks going on at that damn warehouse…” 

Another simultaneous nod left your bodies, to be honest you weren’t nervous just..mentally preparing for what was ahead of the two of you. 

“Last thing, with the time difference once you land it will be 9pm tomorrow, so Wednesday night, you guys are supposed to fly back at 9pm Thursday night. As long as your on that flight, with the time difference and air time, you should get here around 1-2 Am our time on Friday. That gives you guys a couple hours to sleep, and debrief  before the viewing at 12. So again no time for bullshit, no trips to Chanel, just knock this shit out and get home, so we can give Leo the homegoing he deserves!” 

~~~

The 7 of you split up in two groups and loaded the helicopters, once you landed your cars took you your separate ways, heading home to shower and pack. Even though you’d be there all of 24 hours you still found a way to over pack your Keepell, placing one firearm in your bag. The weapon was unloaded and properly packed in order to clear any regulations, it was also registered to you but you’d never in a million years shoot from that gun. It was just for show and more so dire emergencies. Short of that your weapon of choice is unmarked, and unregistered  and loaded with ammo that you probably shouldn't have access too but somehow ,ya do! 

Already well aware that nothing sexual would happen on this 15 hour flight, due to the time difference, and the lack of time you’d be there the flight would be spent between strategizing, sleeping and eating. That still didn't stop you from throwing on a lace little something under your T-shirt dress in case he hands wanted to go for a little stroll. 

LOCATION : Somewhere in the skies between Massachusetts and China

Tuesday, 7:30PM

The skies were gloomy as all hell once you took off, a good 2 hours into the flight once everyone munched on the array of fast food, and got in there comfy spot, that’s when it was game time. 

“Alright, sorry if this is all old news for everyone else, but what’s the actual issue? Listen, I’ve been all over Amsterdam for the past month running your drugs around..so I’m a little out of the loop!” Throwing his hands up dramatically, the utter sarcasm dripping from his throat ripped a snort from the rest of you effortlessly. 

Taehyung and yourself glanced at each other and ultimately he decided to respond.

“Around, 5am, one of our trucks from China, was on the road, the driver claims he was at a rest stop for the night, headed to our Anaheim warehouse and the back hatch alarm tripped. He told Jin he didn't physically see anyone just a blacked out van driving off, when he counted his shipment he was down 6 boxes.” 

“The issue is..our routes are soild there always changing, the trucks unmarked, it’s just...real fuckin shady... who takes shit without knowing what it is? I mean fuck what if it’s wallpaper!? Then what? You just risked going to jail for a hunch? Nahhh” Namjoon piped in,he often helped remap out different routes for the drivers go take so it didn't get repetitive . 

“So, I know this has never happened before, but what is the protocol for something like this?” Your eyes drifted over to Jin’s since he’s the one running the shop as of a month ago and he was the one popping in the most when Henry was in charge”

“Kinda the same, shipments flies in on cargo, driver on commercial, he’ll drive the head home tonight, and come back in the morning for the trailer. It’s on lockdown all night with Lay’s men at the port, the main difference is once he gets in and we do an incident report...that’s when I get all the details.” 

There was a constitutional humm...that flooded the room until you thought about that for a second. 

“So wait, that means..he’s technically the only one with his shipment until it gets to the warehouse?” He could sense the concern in your voice instantly. 

“Yes and no, Lay’s men are with it all night, so what;s on the plane is on the plane, plus we can track his-”

“Right, but are they going through and counting the boxes to make sure he has what he says he has? Do they even know he’s supposed to be down six boxes?” Your tone was calm, not trying to come off like you were attacking him but..you need clarification on the protocol.

Another consensual humm came through, once the whole group realized you had a pretty valid question. Even if this was a rarity there still needed to be solid structure, and there seems to be loopholes..

“Honestly, I’m not sure..shipment is usually ONLY exported from China, it’s extremely rare that were receiving freight! Unless it’s coming straight to the warehouse...” 

“When did the freight plane get in ?” 

“Tonight actually, as long as we land on time probably a good 30 minutes to an hour after we get there…”

“I wanna wait around for Lay and his men to unload the plane before we leave...” Taehyung’s palm came up to soothe down the small of your back.

 “Good girl..” There was nothing condensing about his tone , already well aware of where your mind was going. Moments like these are why he just can't get enough of you, no matter how hard he tries. 

If the driver said your missing six boxes than fuck, you better be missing 6 boxes! Needing confirmation before you could even consider going to sleep tonight!

The next couple hours were spent talking in a little more detail , as far as the shop was concerned , clienteel, ETC, Yoongi opting to head in right when you land, wanting to have a go at the system before anyone gets in tomorrow . Well aware that if any funky business is going on, ideally late at night would be the perfect time for someone to back door the system, since the shops technically closed.

A good 4 hours later, talking filtered into sleep that you all desperately needed, as your day was starting in less than 6 hours! Taehyung and yourself were cuddled up in the bedroom that sat at the back of the plane. You found yourself passed out on his chest, while he woke up a good hour or so before landing, re-going over reports with the dimmest light possible so he didn't wake you. Secretly loving and hating how much he was enjoying having you like this, the vulnerability he felt with you was utterly terrifying and liberating all at the same time. Just not sure how long this little road of bliis can go before his inner deamons start to fuck with his head again. 

LOCATION: Shanghai Pudong International Airport

11PM Wednesday night

You were out like a light, not even bothering to wake you until, the cargo plane had also landed, it was pushing almost 11pm at this point. Waking up to the feeling of someone slipping your shirt over your head, in combination with the sound of thunder rumbling against the plane. Eyes slightly hazy as they fluttered open slowly….

“It’s pouring and barley 50 degeress, you’d freeze in that…also..your a little shit for these...” Tugging on your pink lace G-string with a slight smirk.

Gaze dropping down to silently observe the way he delicately slid your body into your oh so subtle Gucci tracksuit. “Eww when did you get so sappy!” The playful tease rolled off your lips and against his tongue, not hesitating to let his hand make a firm imprint on your ass. Holding it in place so you felt the sting against your flesh, forever reminding you how instant his duality could be.

A whimper slipped past your tongue while he smirked into the kiss, “Who the fuck are you calling sappy?” a low growl left his lips as he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip, before shifting your body beanthe him, flipping you over so you were straddling his waist. “I think what you meant to say was “Thank you daddy..” A smirk tugged on his lips as you pulled away from him.

“Oh my god!!” A snort left your lips as you rolled your eyes playfully, smacking him in the chest lightly, mindless rambles were brushed against each others lips as you waited to unload the jet. Jet lag was in full affect that’s for damn sure ,this was NOT a smooth ride at all.

It felt surreal yet so natural..the two of you..not holding your breath with how long it would last, well aware that you both had a lot on your shoulders right now. Emotions are at an all time high so you tried not to over analyze the affection he was giving you, no matter how much you loved it.

Upon stepping off the plane you were greeted by almost terrifyingly dark skies , I swear mother nature tries to drop hints….she tries. Thankfully the mood was brightened slightly by Lay’s deadly dimples noticeable even tucked under a hat making his rounds as he greeted you all one by one. While you all loaded a little car comparable to an oversized golf cart where he drove you all a little further down the lane where the freight plane landed. 

“Okay so I need a favor…” Not even waiting for him to respond prior to continuing “ I need every box, counted and numbered,as you guys load each one onto the truck. I want them loaded in numerical order…tonight!” Smiling up at him doe eyed, his body just slumped at the sound of that. It was wet and cold, and late as all hell, due to the weather they probably weren’t even going to unload until the morning!  But he'd never question, or complain about anything you requested of him. 

“Yes, ma’am” Shooting you another charming smile before  bowing out, to instruct his men to do as you asked.

It took close to an hour to get through every box, stregicially placing them based on weight, size, and  if any of them were marked as “Fragile “  The seven of you waited in anticipation, as they loaded the last 3 boxes into the trailer.

“54!” Lay's voice echoed through the wind...A combination of relief and confusion now danced through the atmosphere. 

‘Does this mean I could actually, possibly leave China for once without killing someone!?”’ Hoseok spoke up for the first time since waking up voice sitting extremely groggy.

A drowsy chuckle filled the space as you all stood under the awning of the building to avoid the rain. Back pressed  firmly against Tae for extra warmth, as you all started walking towards the terminals. According to Lay’s packing sheet the driver  left with 60 boxes...he claims they took six so, so far his “robbery”stories kinda lining up...even if it doesn't make sense.

“I don't know man, I just still don’t get how they got away with six freight boxes before he noticed...has the driver’s plane landed?” Taehyung’s eyes cut over to Jin, as he checked the airports stats on his phone.

“Nope, the rain has him delayed , at least another hour or so…”

It was getting late and none of you had the patience to wait for him, also not wanting to ambush the driver, wanting to wait until you’d collected a little more info. 

“How about this..instead of the normal protocol makeup some bullshit excuse and have Lay drive him home! I want Hoseok to drive it in, tomorrow morning instead, tell the driver he can come in at 8 with all the other shop workers…that way he wave time to scope everything out.” Jin nodded, walking over to give Lay the game plan for the night, before you all descended into the chaos that was the airport.

As you lot trucked through,believe it or not it was still packed..regardless of the fact it was pushing midnight. The line for Customs & Immigrations was ungodly you couldn't help but notice the slight  stairs your group received from bystanders some lingered longer than others. 

A good hour, and lack of patience later you were the last to get verified, you understood enough Chinese to gist that everything documentation wise was all good. Just as the smiling face in front of you handed back your passport a member of TSA steps into frame.

Almost snatching your passport right out of your hand “Rude…” Slipped past your lips, eyes rolling to the back of your head without even a second thought.

You could hear him mumbling something in Chinese to the other TSA that  almost sounded like “Back room” 

“Ms. Sever-”

“Severiane’ ” Tone dry as all hell, you could tell he was struggling and you weren’t in the mood, you were tired as hell and already annoyed by this blatant attitude.

“Yes’ we need you to step out of line, and follow me..” First thing you noticed was how clear his accent was, as he spoke to you in English with no hesitation.

“For what!?” The words slipped past all of there lips simultaneously before you even had time to rebuttal, completely ignoring the men to your right as they chimed in. The lack of response clearly wasn’t working in your favor as both guards stepped from behind the counter,and just like clock work, Taehyung and Namjoon were at your side as the men started to invade your personal space.

Both of there faces screamed “Back the fuck up..now!”

“I’m only going to ask you one more time,your coming either way because it’s apart of our protocol, as long as you cooperate this won’t take long.”

You could feel Tae’s grip on your waist get tighter, pulling you into his frame as he locked eyes with the guard in front of you. If looks could kill, this man's head would be on the other side of the airport right now . Neither of you worked well with threats but you were far too exhausted to fight this right now.You swore you could almost hear Taehyung’s teeth grinding together his jaw was clenched so tightly,

“Yeah, okay ,whatever…not like my bags and passport didn't already clear your system but sure..lead the fuckin’ way” Flagging your hand to gesture you were ready to go, nothing subtle about the attitude that dripped from your lips

As you went to walk off, the grip Tae held on the back of your joggers never faltered jerking you back into him. “I got this…” Brushed past your lips and you swore he growled in response, forgetting how possessive this man could get. Leaning up quickly to press your lips to his, the second you pulled away his eyes cut from yours, over to gentleman to your right before nodding tentatively. 

Smiling faintly in Namjoon’s direction as well, knowing he was feeling all the same emotions as Taehyung! Wigging out of his hold, fingertips gracing yours until the last possible second, the final glare that shoot from their eyes into the Tsa was lethal….

Walking down a long hallway before finally being led to a room in the back corner. 

Upon taking a seat the gentleman that walked you in left without saying a single word….

“That’s a beautiful plane you guys have…” Another extremely clear American accent graced through the doors as a different agent walked in to take a seat in front of you. His name tag translating to “Han”.

“Thank you…”

“So what brings you to Shanghai at this time of night…”

You could tell he was just beating around the bush and you really had no patience for it whatsoever, assuming he was just being nosey at this point. “I didn't plan to get here this late, but it’s a long flight and the weather sucked..” Shrugging nonchalantly as you crossed your legs, slouching back in your seat.

“Is it your first time here?”

Just shaking your head “No” in response, the utter lack of enthusiasm earned a chuckle from the gentleman in front of you.

“Ohhhkay..and what brings you here this time?”

“Food..shopping...aesthetically pleasing pics for my Instagram..shall I continue…” Crass nothing but crass…

“So your telling me you flew 16 hours to shop, eat, and take pictures?” Brow arched at the implied question triggering a smirk to crawl up your face.

“Clearly…. you can tell I can afford it” Letting your hand trail up and down your body everything from your tracksuit, to the diamonds that danced along your body screamed affluent. “So yes, that is why I’m here..and if all you wanted was my itinerary can I go?”

“No, I actually called you in because  when your bag got checked.. We noticed your weapon wasn’t stored properly. But instead of just taking it, I decided to be nice and give you a warning,I even brought a pamphlet for the proper protocol when traveling with a concealed weapon.

Bullshit, utter bullshit, there was nothing wrong with your gun and if it was it would've gotten flagged when they checked your bag…They don’t play around when it comes to weapons registered or not, ESPECIALLY considering your technically a foreigner!

“Hmm, well aren't you a gem, thank you, I’ll be more careful next time..” Flashing him an Oscar worthy smile ...to go with his bullshit excuse for why he called you in here

“Anytime, make sure it’s secure when you leave though, we won’t be as generous next time…” Slowly rising from his seat, just nodding in response.

“Enjoy Shanghai Ms. Sunjata…” You felt your spine go ridigit at the sound of that, completely readjusting in your seat. Footsteps rattled behind you, as you heard the door shut. Trying to run through any scenario in your head, that could explain why you were 99.99 percent sure this TSA agent just referred to you by your real surname!

That was all the confirmation he needed...silently observing the obvious shift in body language.. 

And just like clock work you realized he wasn’t actually leaving, the door was never closed when he came in to begin with….

You heard what almost sounded like handcuffs jingle behind you, which had you second guessing yourself for a moment. Currently wondering if you played this out completely wrong in your head, maybe you were under investigation for something else all together! Your reflexes kicked in and you went to jerk away once you sensed how close he’d gotten and in almost a whim of panic his game plan changed. 

 Suddenly you found your airflow get cut off  somewhere between your throat and your lungs as the chain between the cuffs was wrapped around your throat. Pulling you backwards until the front legs of the chair were off the ground, the chair itself rested lightly against his abdomen so he still had control . A sharp breath hiccuped in your chest as you tired to sustain what little airflow you had.

“Is there a reason a Sunjata’s in our territory!?” The words growled against your neck, yet you could sense the uncertainty, as his voice wavered...he was terrified, I don't think he intended for his “Integration”  to go this route.

 Hoisting the chain with enough force to leave an impact but not enough to make you blackout “Look, I don’t want to hurt you, so just answer me! What the fuck dose Sunny want huh?  We already told him,we had nothing to do with your fucking warehouse or Henry, So why are you here!? ” Funny how he was getting impatient with your lack of response, and also saying he doesn't want to hurt you yet..here we are.

He yanked on the chain one more time, snapping you out of your haze,which triggered your instincts to kick back in elbowing dead in the ribs, catching the edge of your elbow against the chair in the process which only pissed you off even more. His frame wider than the back of the chair itself, the slight release on the restraist gave you enough leighway to rock all our weight against him, causing you and the chair to topple over him. Knocking you both to the ground, a lot harder than you expected. A low grown gritted through clenched teeth at the impact once your body met the concrete, the gentleman to your left, however, was far more winded that’s for damn sure. 

Not even giving yourself a chance to catch your breath you grabbed the hand cuffs to your right, clenching them around you first as if they were brass knuckles before decking him dead in the face. Ripping a loud groan from his throat “Fucking bitch!” Rolling to the side as he cradles his nose in his hands, as blood surged from under his palm. Crawling over to flip him onto his back, straddling the upper half of his body, gripping the sides of his jaw between your fingers, purposely digging your nails into his skin.

“You think that’s bitchy!?Your lucky I didint  wrap this chain around your throat and snap your fuckin neck!” Slamming his head backwards into the concrete floor ripping another cry from his throat, you could see in his eyes...how scared he was. Probably new to this life, and genuinely worked at the airport..to keep tabs...here he was thinking he was doing a good deed to score brownie points. Now he’ll be lucky if his leader doesn't kill his ass for pissing off a Sunjata, lord knows the fire you could cause if you really wanted too! Clearly he didn't do his research, you knew he picked you because you were the only girl.  Assuming it would be easy...he could just scream it out of you, little did he know, your fuse was just as short as your men!! 

“And for fuckin what huh? Because I wasn’t on your damn radar!? Listen kid,try that shit again, and I swear to God, I'll cut your dick off and mail part of  it to your fuckin mother….and other to your Lǎobǎn” You had so many questions but right now wasn’t the time, for all you know if you waited another 5 or so minutes an entire gang coulve been waiting outside.

Your body was completely spent, once you willed yourself off the floor and opened the door, trying to pull yourself together, slumping to the ground outside the door because you knew he wasn’t going to try anything else. Your hand was literally throbbing , the bruising already shadowing your knuckles as you slide the array of Cartier off your fingers. Already well aware your hand would swell in your sleep, after a few moments you managed to get your shit together, heading down the hallway and back to the main area.

The minute you cleared the door the all shot up bolting in your direction “Fuck, baby are you-” Stopping himself midsetence the closer you got, neck already starting to welt. You could literally see the anger flashed through his eyes as he gripped the side of your face. “What the hell happened!?” Damn near stripping you in the middle of the airport as his hands scrambled over every inch of your body looking for any other marks. A whine leaving your lips as you winced once he graced your shoulder, eyes almost flushing pitch black at the sound that just left your throat. 

The original agent stepped back out front, and you felt Tae try to bolt to your right, gripping his wrist as hard as you can, no matter how bad it hurts. Pulling him back into you “It wasn’t him...and we can’t do this now...not here...we've already drawn enough attention…will talk later” You watched him open his mouth in rebuttal shaking your head in the process “Stop, take me to the hotel...now…..”  

He was testing your patience at this point the alpha in him, caused Tae to challenge every word that left your lips. Not that it wasn’t for good reason but he needed to trust your judgment calls “Taehyung...Now..” The sudden dominance that laced within your tone made him tentatively comply, it was rare you took this stance with him. Typically the tone was reserved for the men that worked for you! 

 Quickly asking the guys to carry both of your bags, while he picked you up wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you outside to the car that was waiting. One of your men stationed in China was the driver, not trusting some random service at this point. 

The car ride was oddly quiet, you were completely spent, and that’s the only reason the 6 men around you didn't bombard you with questions. Sat comfortably on Tae’s lap, face nuzzled into his neck, while his hands tried to soothe over every inch of your body.

Location : The Peninsula Shanghai

Damn near 2AM, Thursday morning

The room was dead silent, the two of you debriefed the moment you entered the suite, as there was no way in hell he’d let you even think about sleeping until you told him what happened in that back room! Now the only noise in the background was from the shower. The two of you kept it running, almost as a makeshift dehumidifier, while you both soaked in the oversized jacuzzi. Submerged in mounds of bubbles and warm water. It was peacefully actually Tae sat parallel to you, legs resting over his thighs as his fingers trickled up softly. Your eyes were closed as you let the heat overtake you enjoying the rare feeling of calmness that currently washed over you body. 

“Why haven't you just given up on me?”

The sudden depth behind question pried your eyes apart...fluttering them over in his direction.

“What?” 

“You heard me…were the only two people in this room Luxxy..” 

“Well I mean, our families-”

“No” Not in the slightest mood for your games tonight “You know exactly what I mean, this “Thing” Gesturing between the two of you “Has always been a thing even before it  technically was and you know it. You've always had a soft spot for me, and I just can’t figure out why…” 

You couldn't help but be slightly taken aback by not only the conversation at hand but just the topic...he was never one to doubt or question himself. Also the slight passiveness in his tone felt forigen leaving his throat. 

“All arrogence aside, yes, I’m fan-fucking tastic in bed ...and I’m attractive...but so are a lof of other men, but beaneath all that... I’m so fucked up, and you know that better than anyone so why-”

“Really? So we're gonna sit here and act like we havent been through a lot of the same shit?” Instantly annoyed by him constantly trying to compare the two of you as if you were so holier than thou saint as an excuse!

“ I’ve seen and done thing’s that you don’t even have a clue about Kim Taehyung….For starters look at my fucking hand?” Pointing out how bruised your knuckles were in comparison to the extremely girly pastel pink acrylics that danced along your nails. 

“I fucking used a pair of handcuffs as brass knuckles, and broke a dudes face in 3 places today...do you really think I have any room to judge!? I have a soft spot for you the same reason you do me...because you somehow manage to see more than what everyone else dose……” Voice calming significantly the more you gazed into those dark brown eyes of his..always innocent no matter what he’s been through. 

“But what if there’s not more to me...then what? How do you know you havent mentally created a version of me in retrospect to who I really am?” He was challenging you and he had a valid point, but so did you...

“The reason I keep coming back isn't fictonal…..” Shifting forward in attempts to straddle his waist which he welcomed willingly, gripping your hips so you didn't have to do much. “ It’s the angry, short tempered, assertive, aggressive..version of you...then it’s also the man who carried me out of the airport..and held me the entire car ride...or the man that basically told me he’d take a bullet for me. And to make it even better you fuckin meant it….” 

You watched his eyes start to drift away from yours, bringing your hand up to rest along his jaw, tilting it back in your direction. 

“Yes..this is a busienss..even if we’d never had sex we’d always protect each other..but you look at me in a compeltley differnet light. You always have no matter how much you've tried to hide it...I’m staying around in hopes that I get to see a little more of that..Kim Taehyung…in addition to..the angry, short tempered...daddy dom you are” Pourposly lightening the mood with your ending choice of words..earning a slight smile to tug on the corners of his lips. 

“Such a hard man with an even harder cock, how the hell could I say no to a challenge like that?” Lips hovering over his as you spoke,Taehyung leaned in first a deep exhale released from his lungs into yours. Moaning against his tongue within seconds, as it slipped past the seams of your lips. The kiss was lazy, almost harmless initially, until you raked your nails down his back, ripping a moan from his throat. 

“Do you want it? Or are you too tired?” Pulling back slightly. Letting his lips tease yours as he spoke, nipping at your bottom lip.

“Both..” the words spilled from your lips, chuckling slightly at your own honesty..you were tired..but you wanted him…

A humm left his lips..before leaning over to suck on the hinge of your jaw “I think I can work with that…..” Scooting his back away from the edge of the tub “Wrap your legs around my waist...tight...baby…” Upon feeling you locks your legs around him , he locked one arm around your waist while placing the other on the edge of the tub, lifting you both out of the water, before carefully stepping onto the tile floor. Grabbing a towel off the counter to drape your back so you weren't sopping wet, before waving his tongue into your mouth carrying you back into the bedroom. The kiss was slow, deep, a little more delicate than your use to with him, he even let you take control as you laced your tongue around his. Pulling back slightly to nibble on his bottom lip, sucking it between your own, as he dug his nails even deeper into the curve of your ass. 

Typically he’d throw you on the bed, silently hoping he wouldn't, muscles too sore for that and luckily he knew better. Gently laying you on your back, soothing his hands down your thighs as he spread them apart slowly,kneading his hands higher and higher until they were dancing right beneath your core. Pulling back from you briefly...eyes following him as he reached into one of his bags, not fully able to see what he got as it dispersed within his palm. Before you even had time to question it he was hovering back over you..lips trickling down your jaw, instinaly noticing the way he skipped over your neck.More so on a mental level not sure if you wanted anyone near it, even him...but it was him...and as sad as it sounds that’s nowhere near the worst thing that's happened to you. 

Grabbing his face between your palms, gently placing his head in the crook of you next and he complied instantly. “You still want me to taste you?” The look in his eyes was a lot softer than you’d expect in a moment like this. The typical arrogance gone, almost as if he was honored that you still trusted him with very inch of your body no matter how fragile it currently was.”My pretty baby…” The praise had you shuddering.  

Purposely teasing over the skin with the tip of his nose, making you crave it even more “Yes, everywhere..I want you everywhere...please…”

 Planting  mounds of messy open mouthed kisses against your skin..until every area had been traced into his memory with his tongue. Moaning out in the crook of your neck as you started grinding your hips up into him. His mouth could tear you apart within seconds as your hands roamed down his back, nails grazing his skin as you arched slightly giving him more access. Letting his lips trickle down to your breast, Cupping it in his had as he let his tongue lather over your areola before sucking it into his mouth. 

“Tae…” raking your nails into his hair while you almost edging your breast even deeper into his mouth.

“Always  so sensitive...” Licking sucking, nibbling his way over to your other breast repeating the same acting as he sucked on your nipples until your entire body was grinding into him. The heat already pooling from your stomach, trickling onto the bed. Letting his hand travel down your body, moaning at the way every muscle in your stomach flenched at the contact...letting his figners dance over your clit…”So responsive...fuck ..you dripping for me baby…just relax and let me make you cum..I got you... ” 

Those words alone had your body quaking as he laid his tongue flat against your sternum,, licking his way down, until he reached  your bikini line. Nipping, kissing, and sucking his way around the perimeter of your core until you felt as though your entire being was pulsing for him. Positioning himself between your legs, cradling your thighs on either side of his shoulders as he dove tongue frist between your between your thighs. Clearly not in the mood to tease tonight as his tongue lapped around every crevice of your folds, moaning out against the juices coating every nerve on his tongue.  Brining one hand down to ravage through his hair as an anchor feeling as though you currently had no control over your body at the moment. 

Every inch of your body was set ablaze as he rolled his tongue against your heat, letting the muscle dig deeper and deeper teasing your entrance, before flicking it against the head of your clit, his name fell from your lips repeatedly only adding fuel to the fire. While he massaged your inner thighs in his palms...soothing the tremble that was already radiating through your body as you struggled to keep your legs open.  Pulling back to purse his lips over you clit, letting the natural lubricant fall from his lips onto your clit..not that you needed it Tae just loved it messy. Body jerking at the sudden sensation as he swirled his tongue around the added wetness, using it to unravel your clit nerve by nerve. He licked and sucked his way from top to bottom, living for the taste of you all over his tongue,relishing in how messy you were already dripping down his face..trickling onto the sheets.  Before moving over to sink his tongue even deeper into your entrance..waving it around the premier,teasing your hole as it clenched in anticipation. “Fuck, you want it sooo bad” His voice rumbled agaisnt your folds, as he almost arrogently observed how desperte your body was for him.

“Oh, my god Tae,…” You kneaded out as your body started to morph into a strained arch, ignoring the pressure currently beating on your shoulder, as you rolled your hips into his mouth. Humming out against your folds contently  the way you started to twitch above him. Letting his teeth gently graze your clit with just enough pressure to make you shudder before sucking the sensitive bud between his lips. Suctioning them around it until he could feel the nerve start to tense around his tongue triggering every nerve in your body to do the same.

“Tae, baby fuckk, just like that -” You find yourself almost clawing at his scalp as his name continuously fell from your lips in the form of the neediest whine imagine.

“I’m here baby...I’m right here cum for me.. ….please come for me” The words rumbled against your folds before he sucked you back into his mouth, your thighs desperately trying to clamp down on his face, as you back arched to the point of your head almost elevating off the bed…every muscle in your thighs quivered as you choked out a broken praise of his name. 

“Tae, T-” You came with a moan that stretched from the deepest realms of your chest..voice breaking towards the end .Giving your clit a few more kitten licks before he crawled back on top of you.

“How are you feelin? You wanna stop?” Hand coming up to soothe the outer perimeter of your body, your thighs still trembling against his touch. The concern in his voice had you melting as you shake your head in response almost pouting.

“No, I still want you….” 

“You trust me?” brow quirked slightly , as you reached up to wipe your juices from his chin.

“Always…:  

That was all the confirmation he needed before leaning down to slide his tongue into your mouth. Moaning out as the taste of you rolled from his tongue to yours, reaching between the two of you tracing your fingers up your lips. Body shivering in the process, using your own release to stroke his length which was already rock hard, a strained moan broke from his throat as he pulled back from you, resting his forehead against your own, as his jaw laxed at the stimulation. Twisting your wrist up and down his shaft, towing with the precum on his tip .

“God I need to be in you so fuckin bad….your so wet, sooo wet..fuckkkk” letting his fingers reach between the two of you playing in the juices that glazed over your lips. “Slide me in baby…..”  Rocking his hips slightly egging you to position him at your entrance and you did, the minute he felt your warmth against him he started sliding in. Completely slipping your mind that it seems he purposely never stretched you out.

“Oh my fuckk..” Nails digging into his forearms at the sudden stretch and pressure that was building between your thighs.

“Does it hurt? or is it just-”

“No, it just..oh my god..” 

“Just what?” There it was that arrogance you knew and loved as he sunk his bottom lip between his lips rocking his hips forward even more “What? Is it too much dick baby? Too much for you to handle tonight?” Yet he didn't stop because he knew you could take it…

“No! It’s not too much you just-” Interrupting your normal scheduled sarcasm with one deep roll of his hips sliding all the way to the hilt, as you choked out a non existent cry.

“Shhh..just relax..you said it wasn't too much right? So why’s your back arching off the bed if daddy’s cock isnt too much for you to handle..” God if you had the strength your probably choke him...instead you purposely clenched yours walls around him as tight as you could. 

“Fuckk….” Thumb digging into your hips as he tried to regain composure “Brat..” slipped out through clenched teeth.

“Your brat!” Not even aware of the phrase before it rolled off your tongue, before you even had a chance to feel awkward about the statement a coy little smirk tugged on the corner of his lips.

“Fuck yeah you are….”  Smoothly rolling his hips into you, deep, slow thrust,  building up momentum..not even giving you a chance to adjust to the stretch of him. Walls unintentionally pulsing extremely hard around him while he cock also throbbed at the contact. “Fuck how are you always so fuckin perfect? Soo good...you always feel soo good..”

Leaning down propping his elbows on either side of your head sliding his tongue back into your mouth as he tilted his hips upwards slightly, sliding out completely before rolling back in. Bringing his pelvis flesh to yours each time, as he could feel you start to relax around him. 

“Fuck yes…: “ Sinking your nails into his shoulders, while he pulled back to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, sucking down on the skin benath your ear. Tilting your neck back even more to give his tongue more leverage, as he continued thrusting into you , your previous release giving him the traction he needed to speed up his pace without hurting you.

Bringing one hand over to his right, reaching out for the item he grabbed earlier, looping it around his finger before pressing it flesh to your clit. The sudden vibration had your eyes snapping open. Body arching into him as the stimulation surged through your body. “Fuckkkk..” Hands releasing his back , clenching to the sheets instead. He had the bullet right on the tip of your clit, and it was clearly on high, thighs shaking within seconds “Oh my- Tae…..” It was too much but it was so good, as you found yourself rolling your hips up into his hand, as he rolled and grounded his hips into yours, matching his thrust at ever angle..”

“You said you wanted to cum, but you were tired...now all you gotta do is just lay here and take it…..” eyes rolling to the back of your head as your thighs tried to close around him, your warmth still milking his length from base to tip ,”Babyy….yes...god yes...” Taehyung moaned out, his own toes starting to curl as he pounded into you..already feeling how close you were…

“Fuck, that’s it baby..come for me...come all over my cock... ,”

Propping himself up slightly, bringing his opposite hand over to take a deep grip on your ass, allowing him to bury himself even deeper as he snapped his hips into you “Tae!” Tugging on the sheets for dear life as your body arched again every muscle felt like it was convulsing as your eyes screwed shut Your relase ripping through you with such force that it snatched a strained moan from Tae’s throat “ Y/N...baby fuck….”  Gripping your trembling legs one by one  propping them on either side of his shoulders...leaning down to hover over you...tilting his hips..until it felt like he was sitting in your lungs… You couldn't even speak you were so full ... giving you no time to come down your previous release feeling like it was just bulldozing into the next.

He could tell your body was starting to lose all composure ...from how hard you were still shaking.

“Shh… relax...I got you...I got you..” Brushed against your lips… as he slowled down his thrust...clicking the bullet until it was on a calmer speed but it was still wayyy to much right now….Sliding his tounge back into your mouth as he rolled his hips into you, his thrust slightly out of sink and slopper than usual so you knew he was close but fuck it was soo much. Sucking every strangled moan from your throat as supported his weight on one elbow, cupping the side of your face in his hand as he licked his way through your mouth. Hip hips where becoming a rattled mess against your own , as your body started to ease slightly.

‘I can’t, fuck I can’t…” You could hear your juices sliding in and out as he rolled his hips into you, yours inner thighs soaked and sticky..voice strained..

“You can, give me one more, one more baby...I’m not gonna last long…” Pulling his hips back slightly swirling his cock around inside of you loving how wet and warm you were, and it was all for him. “You hear that? Your so wet for me baby you can take it give me one more, give daddy one more..” 

You kissed softly Tae’s thrust a little more ...rational considering how sensitive you were ...your body already starting to unravel within seconds. 

“Tae..” You weren't even sure why you were calling him at this point…

‘Baby..” He countered in a  low moan before sucking on your bottom lip “So good for me...soo good..” Crashing his lips into yours as he sped up his pace...turning the bullet back on high speed..

“Fuckk-”Body jerking against him, the cry was so faint your surprised he heard you 

“I know, baby I know, me too..” His legs were shaking between your hips which were trembling uncontrollably .

Massaging his lips against your as he thrusted harder and faster, ripping your last orgasm from your body as he licked up your throat… coming with a scream of his name..Thank God..your neighbors where Namjoon and Mazda!

“Fuck yes, that’s it…” Finally pulling the bullet away as he shoved his face in the crook of your neck, letting praise unpon praise fall from his lips. Tae’s release swelling in his balls , bringing his hands behind both of your shattered thighs, scoping you up, giving you a couple more deep, steady thrust before he was spilling into you,cock vibrating around your walls. “Fuckkkk” Strained from his throat, ridinging out his release as his hips rolled into yours deep and slow a couple more times before his body laxed on top of yours.

Taehyung was completely spent but he knew you couldn't handle him on top of you like this… propping himself up on one arm, bringing the other down to stroke your cheek “Are you okay?” The words cautiously spilled from his lips in Korean...you don’t even think he realized he did it but you understood him so you just nodded in response. Too exhausted to say much else, while his palm soothed down your body slowly, you were warm..sticky..and and fucking exhausted, your body was litterally buzzing as you nerves started to relax into the matress. Not even wanting to know what time it was right now...eyes drifting asleep ...at some point completely missing how gently he pulled out. Or how he took the time to wipe your entire body down with a damp cloth before moving you from the soiled spot beneath you. 

.

Location : The Peninsula Shanghai

5:00 AM , Thursday morning

He never fell asleep, not that there was much time for it anyway...as he cuddled up behind you, silently observing the little whimpers that left your body as you readjusted in your sleep. The way the bruises along your shoulder, bicep, elbow and hip had finally settled into an ungodly shade of purple. Tae found himself, running circles against your bare skin the entire time you slept, silencing the alarm on his phone before the loud rattle woke up. 

Already having an internal battle with himself, it took every ounce of self control to not just completely shut down and pull away from you then and there. What happened last night, or I guess this morning, isn't uncommon, and he knows you held your own. But it’s you! Fuck it’s YOU, seeing his Luxxy burised and sore just hit..different...it hit real different. He actually almost slept on the damn couch, instantly settling away from your once you dozed off. Then he watched you sleep, and realized how much he needed to be that close to you and that utterly terrified him. 

Hopping up to turn on the shower before he actually woke you, wanting the water to be nice and warm because he knew you'd be sore as hell. Sometimes after something like that happens, your adrilenes still so high that you don’t realize how much pain your really in until hours later! You lot had a solid 14 hours to make heads of this before you had to fly back home for Leo’s viewing. 

Peppering kisses until you work up, in complete whiney, brat mode but this time around he actually found it adorable, carrying  you into the shower so you guys could get ready for whatever  hell this day had in store. Oh did I mention it was also dreary and rainy so...that’s the mood of the day, as the two of you got yourselves sorted in almost complete silence. There wasn't any tension or anything where the two of you were concerned there was just a lot on your minds right now!

It was about half past 6 once the four of you pilled into the car, Jin took Yoongi straight to the warehouse once you guys got to the hotel last night, and Hoseok had to go pick up the semi. They were all awaiting your arrival, and desperately praying you had coffee, which you did..about 2 strays full! 

Location : Sunjata X Kim distribution warehouse

Thursday 7:10 AM.

It was extremely earie how quiet the building was, your heels echoed along the concrete floors, all loading behind the industrial-sized elevator. There was no other drivers currently in China, all the others were on routes throughout the midwest, so the 7 of you didn't  do much to fill up this 3 story warehouse! The building itself was well kept, you didn't run some grimy sweatshop, it was clean, organized , and had one hell of a security system. 

Upon approaching the door to the office you observed it swing open automatically, guessing one of the guys saw you approaching on the surveillance cameras. A consensual sigh richoteced off your bodies as you took in the looks on their faces…..this was going to be a long damn day!

“Sit..” 

Joon walked over to give Yoongi both of his coffee orders, damn near snatching it out of his hand like a man deprived! You couldn't help but notice the way they all kept gazing over in your direction, the bruises on the side of your neck could be mistaken has love bites if they didn't know better. But the problem is...they all knew better, they couldn't help it, your the only girl in this circle, they all have a soft spot for you.

“Guys, please stop, I’m not a damn porcelain doll, I’m fine...can we actually start going over everything or do you just wanna keep staring at my bruised neck!?” Tone unintentionally snappy, you were just tired, frustrated, and already ready to leave. 

None of them bothered to rebuttal your request as you all settled on the sectional in the center of the room that sat in front of a 60 inch screen, which mirrored Yoongi’s monitor. 

“Okay sooo, to be honest, I didn't find a shit ton of issues, which isn't surprising, this is a business, you can only hide so much before it starts affecting money! But the issues that I did find, are a little concerning..first off it seems as though you only have about 10 clients that order in that large of bulk right?” Yoongi’s eyes drifting from the screen for conformation. 

“Yeah, and those clients have been with us since we practically opened usually orders that large are actually being transported for us to sell directly” Taehyung took it upon himself to answer as he shifted you onto his lap. You couldve sworn he thought if he let you out of his site you’d disappear or something. 

“Right, that’s what I thought, the person that was getting the order in question was relatively new...and it seems like you guys have about 2 more orders close to that size going out within the next 12 days...that’s also new clientele!” 

“Offf course we do!” Your sarcasm was just on autopilot at this point.

“Yeah, I checked into the system to see when they were entered..in, trying to find any email correspondences… and there wasn't much. The odd thing is, they were all added right before Henry left, but the orders were not set to go out for almost a good 60 days or more…” Jin chimed in while scrolling through his own laptop, double checking both work emails in the process. 

“Is that normal? Because I don't think I've ever heard of us doing that unless we're the ones sold out of something right?” 

“Yes and no, I asked Mrs. Chen (Lay’s grandmother who's been within the family business for almost 20 years) since she was taking over before I got here and she told me where she kept her handwritten notes” The frustration within his voice was comical..he was probably pulling his hair out trying to decipher her old school Mandarin.

“ Apparently, this client was moving locations and wanted it all to come together but couldn't afford it all at once. So technically it was three separate orders..that were paid for individually but they wanted to wait and have them all shipped together.” 

That was ...somewhat believable..the shipping cost for freight that size wasn’t small business friendly so it's not too obscene that they would rather wait and just pay one bulk price!

A consual nod filled the room at that, so far this wasn’t going too bad...

“Part of my concern, and it could just be me over thinking things, after that meeting we just had but when I looked into the shipping locations… and this is what I found….” 

Yoongi opened a separate tab to a spreadsheet that now graced the screen in front of you.

 Tijuana, Baja California,  El paso, and Laredo Texas …it took you guys a moment to put two and two together and then…

“Fuck, why do they alllllll border Mexico….” A deep exhale left your chest at that, sinking back into Taehyung. The question wasn't even legitimate more so just thinking out loud. 

Hoseok and Tae exchanged glares at the sound of that, the two of them have been gunhoe to “Handle” Marco for a solid 3 months now so this new info wasn’t helping!

“Again, maybe I’m overthinking this but..I just find it odd that the first shipment that’s ever gone rouge ..is going to a state bordering Mexico.” Scruffling his fingers through his hair, as he slouched against the desk. Yoongi looked fucking wrecked you could tell he’s been up the entire time!

“Right, but this warehouse is for replica luxury goods...some bulk wholesale items..I highly fucking doubt Carbarno wants a fake Gucci bag so this still makes no sense. We're still not at heads or tails when it comes to the Distribution truck…” You didn’t intend to sound like a bitch you were just getting frustrated! 

“I mean, the driver said they took 6, he left with 60-”

“How do we know he left with 60 though? Why are we solely trusting his word, does shipping and receiving keep logs of how many boxes are used per order!?” The room perked up at the sound of that, no matter how snappy, Taehyung’s request was actually spot on!

“Yeah, they submit it weekly so we know how much is going in and out inventory wise..”

“K, and where would we find that log?”

Jin stepped in since he knew the actual software a little better than Yoongi, typing in the shipment number..which narrowed it down to a month..then a week.. At this moment instantly regretting how good business was and the number of orders that are prepped daily. The 7 of you spread out along the office, going through the mountains of weekly logs!

For starters, shit was all out of order, which was a bitch for another day, but to be fair Jin’s only been here a month and Mrs.Chen as a fill-in until you could maneuver Jin to China!  

8AM rolled around and Jin had to step away, once the workers came in..needing to oversee the daily activities as he would any other time. Not letting them know Tae and yourself were upstairs, and I shit you not..it was pushing 11:30 when Namjoon finally found the log!

“Fuck!” You could sense the frustration in his voice assuming it was just because he still hadn’t found it…“Hey Tae, your Mandarin is a lot better than mine..come read this.”

Hopping off the floor, glancing at a hot pink sticky note on top of the log, there was a long pause before he actually said anything. “FUCK!”

The sudden outburst caused you all to jerk, completely unaware as to what caused it, the batatone rumbled throughout the office as he headed for the door “Hoseok, where’s the tuck ?” 

“Ugh, it’s in the lot it hasn’t been un-” Not even allowing him to finish his sentence before he headed into the hallway

“What the fuck is his deal!?” Hoseok retorted glancing over at you annoyed and confused by Taehyung’s sudden attitude.

“Tae, Tae!! ..” Nothing you knew he heard you as he headed for the staircase not even attempting the elevator. “Kim Taehyung!!!” Elevating your voice slightly and it still did nothing, an exaggerated sigh left you throat as the four of you trucked behind him. Completely unaware of where he was going, while Yoongi stayed behind to still toy with the system a little more. 

Inviting himself into the main factory level where all the workers were currently sprawled out, the immense out of chatter and music grumbled against the loud machinery. Not even attempting to speak instead reaching into his pocket, shooting a single bullet into the air, as a way to get everybody to shut the hell up and look at him!   

“Tae!!!” Gritted from your lips at his almost childish behavior and he still ignored you, while Jin ran over completely wide eyed, telling the workers to calm down and not panic. As they all instantly dropped to the floor at the sound of gunfire. 

“What are yo-” 

“I need, whoever unloades the freight, the driver of the truck, and whoever these two ladies are..” Pointing at the names written in Mandarin of the workers who loaded shipment “Send everybody else home for the day..”

“Taehyung-”

“Send. Every.Body.Else.Home….Now.” There was no elevation in tone but there differently was in delivery, his tenor got dark, demanding wasn't even a strong enough word to describe it. Not even waiting for Jin to respond or ask any additional questions as he pulled away from him, sliding his blazer off his frame in the process. 

You watched him head out the door without even sparing you a single glance,at this point you were done, done chasing him, done arguing and more importantly you were exhausted! Now it’s your turn to be dramatic, pulling your glock out of the inside pocking of your blush pink silk coat. Aiming right at the light hanging from the ceiling, barley centimeters away from where he was headed.  Ignoring the gasps that overflowed from the work room, head whipping in your direction, face contoured out of anger and you could give less than a damn.

“What the fuck is your promblem!?” you watched him storm in your direction the diction in his voice one you've never heard in correlation to you. Yet no matter how angry he was your stance never faltered, crossing your arms over your chest as your eyes burned straight through him.

“What the fucks my problem!?”

“I didn’t stutter, I don't have time for this bullshit Luxx, I have shit to take care of we only have another-”

“Excuse you!?” Strutting closer, minding the space between the two of you until you could almost taste the gum on his tongue. “You have shit to take care of!? See that’s my fuckin problem Tae, what the fuck does this say!?” Storming to the left point to the very faint carving within the bricks that read “Sunjata & Kim” only the spelling was purposely done backwards. But you all knew what it said...and why it was there….

You watched the hinge of his jaw tighten yet he didn't respond “Hello!? Would you prefer I say it in Korean!?” Brow arched at the obviously condescending implied question. 

At this point, Mazda, Hoseok, and Namjoon had made there way to the halway as well, silently observing the soap opera taking place in front of their eyes. 

“You really need to calm the fuck down…” Dropping his voice significantly the octave and tone... was less aggressive yet even more dominant then moments prior……

“Or what!?” Challenging him yet again as you stepped even closer, dropping your voice so the conversation stayed private. “This is a business, sex aside..you can’t go shutting down whever you get angry or upset. This is OUR business and OUR money…you have no problem giving me what I want in bed, so give me what I want in business! Fucking respect me as your partner and talk.To.Me.”

A long sigh left his body as his eyes flutter shut..pearing them open slightly..taking a firm grip on the sides of your face,craddling it between his plams...squezing slighly “God I wanna choke the fuck outta you sometimes…” The words slipped through gritted teeth but there was no actual aggression laced within his words.

“Fucking same….” Keeping your eyes locked on his, as you watched him regain slight composure. 

“You went in shutdown mode barley 3 months ago in regards to this same damn warehouse...it’s not happening again...talk to me Tae” Dropping your voice to an octave that you knew would unravel him and get you what you wanted.

Dropping his forehead down to yours...the hold on your jaw becoming more intimate, as he almost whispered against your lips. Finally brining himself down to a more level headed mindset...

 “The report called for 54 boxes..not 60...that means for some reason, we have 6 more than we should regardless! Either he brought back six..or for some reason, they spaced out the order more than they really needed too. Either way shits off...I want every damn box stripped and checked, because I swear to God, if my guts right, I don’t give a fuck if it’s his father’s fuenral...he’s done!” 

Pulling back from your slightly observing your shift in expression upon finding out what the REAL issue could possibly be ...” Oh fuck…” 

“ Right! I don’t- we don’t have time to argue alright? ...If you wanna come while we sort through these boxes...come”  That damn sure wasn't an apology but you really didn't have time to bitch right now soooo

`~~~~~

Unfortunately for the driver, a good 20 minutes in, Mazda found a clear baggie within one of the YSL replica bags…”Shit..Tae…” utter defeat slipped from his lips as he raised the bag,honestly, you weren't expecting it to be this fucked up!  

Body slumping into the floor at the site in front of you..and the more you searched the more, and more, and more..you found…The pile to the far right of the garage was growing like wildfire. 

“FUCK!!” This time the outburst came from you, darkside of the business is you guys moved snow...a gram starts at damn near $100.00. By the time you had every piece of shipment open, there was about 10 grand worth of coke smuggled carelessly between knock off luxury goods and bulk loungewear! 

It was pushing 3 in the afternoon at this point...the air was sitting real thick you could almost smell the fear laced within the 5 employees as they also sat in silence. 

“You know it’s Jimin’s ...it has to be...he gets jumped Monday night ...leaving the party...now suddenly there's 10k of snow here!? That’s not a coincidence…shit’s fuckin stupid!” Hoseok’s added in utter disgust you guys don't move drugs like this, there's a reason you don’t get caught! This was ignorant and careless, and theft, because these are Sunjata drug’s Leo, doesn't move shit this intense! 

There’s always a cleaner on any Drug run...that’s what Yoongi and Hosoke are for, in case someone tries to hit a lick or you get stopped by the police. A delivery driver isn't equipped to handle this kind of shipment, there not trained to kill someone in the blink of an eye! 

“So what would have happened if the police would have come to investigate this so-called robbery...and searched the truck..then what?” Eyes daggering int he driver's direction, lucikly he was smart enough to realize he wasn’t meant to respond. 

“ This is close to 10 thousand dollars worth of coke! We almost lost a mini Birkin!!” You didn't have the skill of sounding collected when angry, your voice was echoing extremely loud off the concrete walls! It was written all over his face that he knew something if you didn't know any better you’d swear he was damn near pissing himself. 

Yet Taehyung couldn't help but chuckle, even in a situation like this .. your comparison to losing money is a luxury handbag!

Pulling out your phone to call Jimin knowing he’d be pissed because it was damn near 2 AM, but you didin’t care.

“Yes…” He was wide awake you could even hear some chick complaining in the background that he picked up…

“Am I interrupting?” You couldn't help but tease, and honestly, you needed the slight distraction, the girl in the back managed to sound even brattier than you!

“Nope, your always more important..what do you need love?” Always the flirt Tae rolled his eyes that the sound of that...suddenly soo possessive...

“After Joleane's birthday...what was taken?” 

A low chuckle left his throat which instnatly threw you off “A shit ton of snow that wasnt even fully cured..the mother fuckers gonna fuck around and have a damn stroke if he tries to hit that shit...fuckin stupid! That’s what they get through ...Whatever..I’m already working on a new batch anyway...so don’t worry. I’ll have it ready by next drop night” 

Now you were all laughing, good old jet lag, it was somewhat delirious and cynical actually as if this couldn't get any better, Marco was moving uncured snow. Meaning’s someone’s paying for the good shit and it isn't even fully cooked yet. Any dealer can taste a bad batch especially someone on the level of Carbarno! If this would've gotten sold to the wrong person, kills the wrong person or they just felt like you were trying to rip them off! Suddenly the entire alliance becomes a walking death wish! What makes this even scarier is if you guys wouldn't have flown out here...you wouldn’t have even seen the attack coming..you’d be sitting ducks...AGAIN

‘Welp Park, I found your snow..it traveled to China so I’ll make sure I bring it back to ya!” The sarcastic tinge to your voice had him more than confused as you hung up throwing your phone across the room! 

‘We need to shut this factory down, at least four a couple weeks, because I don't trust what’s coming and going out at this point. Jin...I need a report on what’s supposed to go out within the next 5 days...I need a cargo plane big enough to carry people and freight. I want every order that’s set to go out in that timeframe...on that plane...”

His eyes glanced over at you as if for once he was asking for confirmation, in which you just nodded...you only had another 6 hours here. There wasn’t time to do shit else...except shut it all down until you actually had time to think this through! 

“Get two if we have too and I want Yoongi and Hosoek riding with the pilots..along with the driver and the two women that processed the shipment.I don't know how your gonna do it..but I need them all on a flight or two by midnight, and I want this factory locked down and closed until further notice!” 

Taehyung just spit a lot out all at once, but it appeared both Jin and the employees in the corner picked up on every word..or at least the important parts because they were utterly terrified. 

“Hey guys come look-” Yoongi paused once he notices the moutan of coke to his right “Holyyy shit….ugh..I...fuck really!?” 

“The point Yoongi! Get to the point!” Patience was done at this point..done!

“Damn okay! I tapped into a webcam...there's nobody home I was just curious if any of you recognized the space or not!” 

“With the mood, I’m in you better hope I don't! ” Tae bit back in almost a growl as he helped you off the ground, Namjoon and Mazda stayed in the garage with the workers will Jin set off to try and orchestre what Taehyung instructed. 

The minute you all stepped into the office it appears there was static coming from the TV screen “Oh shit, shit, wait...wait I think...someone's home now….”  Tae, Hoseok and yourself all studied the screen trying to see if the person would get in frame, but it seems Taehyung already had a pretty strong idea who it was. And within a couple minutes so did you….

You all sat in silence for a good 5 or so minutes...until  an extremely doped out Henry slurred into frame, eyes sitting dangerously low, the same way they did when Taehyung found him almost four years ago.

‘“Shit” your heart was damn near beating out of your chest as you observed the way Taehyung studied the video, you’d never seen him look like this, it was actually terrifying, he was fuming. 

You watched Yoongi shift in his seat suddenly feeling real uncomfortable as you all found yourselves studying Taehyung, instead of the video itself. 

“I ugh, I don't know where he is but-”

“I do!” His response was instant, and the smile that settled on his face as he said it was a little more than unsettling “He’s retreated right back to his dope house..a good five hours away…”

You found yourself silently praying that  he would just send his men and the two of you would hop on the flight butttttt…” That’s a long ride, we should probably grab some food and head out for our little road trip yeah?.”  A slight smirk danced along his lips, eyes still studying the video thoroughly as he walked backwards towards the door, nothing was earier than a calm KimTaehyung. . 

Exiting the room without another word leaving Hoseok and yourself to glare over at each other..sharing the same disturbed expression.

“You know if we get there, and Henry’s in that house..there’s a 99 perect chance he’s going to kill him right? 

Location: Henry’s “House” (A good 4 and a half  hours outside of Shanghai )

Thursday 7:10PM

The shift in the atmosphere once you guys got closer to your destination was uncanny, you’d never been to side of China before. Besides visiting Begjin you never ventured too far away form the warehouse technically what you told the TSA was true. When you came here if you weren’t checking on your business you were eating or shopping! Sunny kept your far away from China’s black market dealings and for good reason.

The house itself was pretty small, and dark all the windows practically boarded so you couldn't tell if anyone was even home. Hoseok instructed all of you to stay in the car as he got out, seamlessly breaking his way past the triple deadbolt without any hesitation. Once you noticed the door crack open the three of you followed behind, Hoseok’s gun was drawn the minute he walked through the door because the house was pitch black!! Instantly turning on the flashlight on your phone and getting kiddie corner behind him so he could see. There was suddenly a scurry of footsteps frantically trampling into the room from the right, causing Hoseok to instinctively back you into a wall behind him. 

As if your shoulder needed anymore impact, it took everything in you not to scream, gunfire came from your left strategically grazing the skin of the man's ankle, knocking him to the ground with a high pitched goran. Finally finding a light to your right, you see Henry, in a way you've never in your life seen Henry, and a huge shared piece of glace. Which was apparently his weapon of choice for whoever he could get his hands on…unaware of who was breaking into his home. 

Hoseok, and Tae carried him into the poor excuse of a bedroom as you were all cautiously trying to avoid the mountains of clothes and needles all over the floor. This Was not the man you knew, yes he lived modestly and minimalistic, but he was almost OCD about how organized  he was. Now you could barely recognize the person  standing in front of you,for starters he reaked, wondering when the last time he actually bathed. Hoseok reached down and pulling the  from his leg,  as Henry wheezed at the contact. The metal barley puncturing the skin which was done purposefully.... Can’t get answers from a dead man!

Taehyung instructed Yoongi to confiscate both laptops external hard drives, and anything else he thought Henry may have been using. Knowing it was already after seven and there's no way he’d have time to properly crack into that right now, but he definitely wasn’t leaving it behind!

“Can you guys all go wait outside please…” The words left his lips in such a hushed tone you almost missed it, but you also knew time and place, and this wasn’t one to push buttons. Back facing the group as he stood parallel to Henry, eyes locked on the glossy gaze in front of him. As you all started to walk out of the room the sound of your heels bouncing against the wood caught his attention “Y/n..you can stay if you want..” The request in combination with him actually calling you by your real name had you slightly taken aback. But you knew him, he’d never be the type to say he “needed” someone, so if he was asking it’s because he needed it! 

You didn't respond, just pausing silently observing from where you were, Hoseok’s eyes shifted down to you before he walked out. You could see the concern written within his gaze and for good reason “I got him…” Left your lips silently and he smiled faintly before walking out of the room.

“Tae…”  His name left Henry’s lips in nothing but a slur, as he struggled to keep his eyes open, Taehyung’s eyes cut in his direction, jaw extremely tight as he sunk down to a squat a couple inches from Henry.

“I didn't, I didn't mean too-”

“We just went through this, barely three months ago, but you paid me...well you paid Hoseok, and disappeared like a little bitch, and said you were soooo damn sorry. And again against my better judgement...I let it go...now here I am..” There is goes again speaking in the most tranquil voice possible in the most impractical times… 

“Now it seems you’ve upgraded from stealing my money to irresponsibly stealing and moving my drug trade..” You watched him get off the ground, faltering back slowly, eyes tracing the room clearly looking for something. 

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way...that’s up to you, but I’m not leaving until you finally tell me who...and why..”  His eye caught a plastic bag on the desk, one of those “Keep away from children” ones that probably had some sort of electronic in it at one point.

“Tae I can’t-” His voice was wavering so heavy in his throat you would've sworn his entire body was shaking already a second away from crying.

“Easy..or hard…”

“Tae-” Before either of you could even fathom what was going on the bag was over Henry's head, yanking back by the ends until it was flesh against every feature on his face. While the elder gasped for every once of breath he could, arms coming up in an attempt to stop Taehyung, but his reflexes halted that within seconds..” 

There wasn't an ounce of emotion to be read of Taehyung’s face as he gazed straight through Henry’s eyes, expression completely blank, pupils blown out, jaw tight. He just looked...numb...

“Tae”...Nothing not even a falter…

“Tae!” Fuck..

“Baby..” Tone slightly different not sexual by any means it held a warning but it was still...warm..that made his eyes shift in your direction but he still didn't let go. He actually had the nerve to look over at you like he was annoyed that you were interrupting him!

“Fuck! Stop!!” You couldn't just watch that, yeah you've seen him do worse but you knew in his write state of mind he’d regret this! Actually stepping in this time pushing him off slightly, hastily snatching the bag off Henry’s head as he gasped for air like his life depended on it and it did! 

“You want him dead or do you want answers?” Trying to still keep your tone calm because you knew where his hit for him…

“You realllyyyy don’t wanna ask me that right now…” Eyes glaring over to Henry’s flushed face.

“A couple- months...back…” His airflow was still restricted but he was trying so the two of you waited…

“I was at a convenience store late at night, and I met up with one of the Zhao brothers to buy some….stuff” His voice drifted off not wanting  to actually say what it was, as if he wasn’t already drugged out as we speak!

“Because it was me, he came alone, we actually ended up meeting in some alleyway it was like 2am. Next thing I know he starts asking me a million question,I could tell he was a little off, probably tweaking himself honestly. I ended up willing myself not to buy the drugs,and for some reason that set him off, Wei said someone had told him I was trying to set them up.”

This sudden confession already wasn’t sitting well with the two of you…..what the hell dose Wei have to do with anything right now!?

“So that way you guys would switch your drug  trades from Asia to Mexico... one thing lead to another ...”  It was almost painful to endure this, he was talking in what felt like slow motion but it seemed he was coherent enough to tell the story so you tried to dissect his mumbling!

Both of you had a gut feeling where this was going, you just prayed you were wrong!

“I’m the one that ended up killing Wei…” Both of you damn near choked on your own spit at the sound of that a scoff left Tae lips as he got off the ground. Picking up the first thing he could find which was a coffee mug , chucking it at the wall, while tiny pieces of glass shattered along the floor.AS IF..you guys didn't have enough on your plate as it is...now this…”But trust me I didin’t want too and it was self defense!”

“Your telling me, that your the one that killed one of the brothers ...in probably the only Chiness ally we actually thrust!?” Silence filled the air, as he just nodded slowly in response, eyes swelling in the process.  “That was- That was fuck almost 6 months ago, we all flew over to there little island for the funeral YOU WENT TO THE FUNERAL!!  Tae and Hoseok, were pallbearers you have got to be fucking kidding me right now! “ 

It’s just grimey, disgusted wasn’t even a strong enough word, your skin was almost crawling, yeah you play dirty, real dirty. But not to people that have your back loyalty is so damn important in this line of work, yet 6 months ago your families sat at a funeral that one of your men caused!

“Yeah, and that’s why I didn't say anything ..sometimes it's just better if you didn't know ...He said he knew knew though….” He who the fuck is he Marco!?

“I heard he was in town, but I assumed it was for family business, I don't know if you guys knew this but Wei was allegedly robbed before someone found him, I think that’s part of how he knows.I don;t know if he was following me or what but  I’m almost positive he’s the one who  “robbed him”. Which would mean he has  Wei’s burner, which shows I was the last person he talked too, and there's text between the two of us right before! That alone is enough to have them cut my limbs off one by one.”

It kinda made sense...the motive at least...because all Marco would need to do , is just “Anonymously”  submit the phone to someone within their circle. Then he can rat out Henry, while also not letting them know that he had any affiliation with the situation! It would also leave a very hefty string to linger over Henry’s head as ammo. 

“It started with the money thing...which sucked and I felt like shit...but I knew I could pay you back. So I was just hoping and praying if I did you wouldn't completely hate me…” Eyes drifting up to Tae’s pitifully, you weren’t sure if his high was wearing off, or if it was settling and he was just a functioning drugie! But his speech was getting a little better the more he talked...

“So how do we get here, three months later with you moving our drugs to Mexico?” Tae’s voice was almost winded at this point, I don't think he knew how to process everything that was being thrown at him.

“That’s still new ...or at least where I’m concerned,I'm not even sure if the first official shipment even made it across the border yet or not. Still waiting on confirmation,.he ugh, when you let me go..he tracked me down. He;d reached out for weeks and I tried to ignore him as long as I could until one night….”

“ I woke up about a month or so ago in a drug house about an hour away...with an IV in my arm. Pumping in everything I’d been trying so hard to stay away from ...and ugh…well that’s how addiction works once you get it you need it…So he had me right where he wanted me....” You could hear his voice wavering and it took everything in you not to feel bad for him,this sucked...this wasn’t close to what either of you expected!

“ They check in twice a week and when they do...they bring that…” Gesturing over to the bag of Heroin on his nightstand. “I really didn't have a choice. I mean fuck at that point..I didin’t know what the fuck else to do-”

“TELL ME! TALK TO ME! I WAS THE ONE WHO PULLED YOU OUT OF THIS SAME FUCKING DOPE HOUSE 4 YEARS AGO AND GOT YOU CLEAN! “ Taehyung’s head whipped in Henry's direction as his voice bounced off every surface in this house. 

“I’VE ALWAYS, ALWAYS HAD YOUR BACK! You didn't even...put in half the effort to try and talk to me about this once you left LA...it was just done. Yet I still looked out for you, little did I know you were silently STILL fucking me the entire time…” You’d never heard Taehyung yell and it was actually heartbreaking, you've always said you feel as though he often lacks emotion when he speaks. Well...there it is,..there it all is, because you felt every single word that ripped from his chest!

“You wouldnt have fuckin listened to me, you told me I was dead to -”

“You never. Even.Tried Henry...you never tried..., you could’ve sent me a damn postcard for fucks sake! Shit man anything! Instead, you turned on the person that’s always had your back. And what’s even more fucked is what you're helping him do could get us arrested or even worse killed, it could get us all killed!! And you wouldn’t even give a fuck, because if you did...you wouldn't have given up on me…” 

His voice was starting to crumble in his chest “I never gave up on you. If I did I would've killed your ass months ago!” 

Instinctively you wanted to go to wrap your arms around him, as he spoke, keeping his eyes locked on the ground, you’d never heard him sound this hurt…..his voice was fluttering so hard in his chest it was painful to listen too..

“But this is the thanks I get huh? For caring about your life...so much that I'm willing to jump through hoops and make exceptions. Yet your so willing to throw mine away,but it’s cool because I’m Kim Taehyung right?” Though he wasn;t yelling every question got more and more aggressive, almost coming out as a grunt. “  I don’t feel shit for anyone or anything, so you fucking me over won’t affect me right!? I’ll be just fine...right!?” His voice completely shattered towards the end, becoming less aggressive and more brittle,you watched a single tear attempt to slide down his cheek. Hastily swatting it away before it even had time to fully leave his tear duct. Dropping his gaze back down to his feet as he fidgeted in his stance, hands resting on his hips. 

You damn sure were;t on his side but you could see how much it hurt Henry to see Tae like this...

‘Tae I-” 

You heard a knock on the door and it was Hoseok, Taehyung more than eager to break out of that room and his emotions!  Damn near jumping at his beck and call with zero hesitation.The three of you stepped outside of Henry’s house ...it was almost 8 at night and you lot were damn near 5 hours away from the airport. So the fantasy of getting home in enough time to sleep and breathe before the viewing seemed to be drifting further and further away! The glaze that washed over Taehyung’s eyes immediately caught Hoseok off guard but he knew better than to ask questions so he just got to the point. 

“So here’s the plan, out of the three employees only one of them has a passport, which is obviously the driver. Even if we make them one..it will take 48 hours, the warehouse itself is being put on shut down mode as we speak. While the planes being “Maintenanced”..there going to smuggle the drugs within the plane...once that’s secured Yoongi will take off with that pilot.”

You took the opportunity to wiggly your way over to Tae, wrapping your arms around his back out of habit, his body stiffened. As you went to pull away and respect his space.he reached back, pulling you back into your initial position.

 “Since those other orders are currently in question and we don’t know what we're getting into, I'll be the one traveling with that shipment on a freight plane.Yoongi leaves at 2AM with the truck driver I’m supposed to leave around 4 in the morning. Lay is set to come out by monday with the two women who actually processed the order...All of the other employee’s will be on very strict watch, granted they've all been with us for 5 or more years but you just..never know at this point. “ 

One thing lead to another and you found yourselves talking for a good 40 minutes or so, which wasn’t too surprising...considering all you had to debrief within the past 15 hours! Ultimately deciding to bring Henry back with you on the jet, Tae would start trying to slowly detox Henry while on this 15 hour flight. He’s done it before...he can do it again…

This time all four of you walked into the house...still dark, the stench seeming even stronger now, instantly picking up on the running water in the bathroom.

“Henry!!” Taehyung called out as he walked towards the door “Cho!!” Voice a little louder this time as he banged on the door.

Nothing, the four of you glarded over at each other, as Tae pressed his ear to the door. “Henry, man open the fucking door before I beak this bitch down! We don’t have time for this shit!”

Nothing, nothing but the sound of running water rattling against the porcelain tub….

 Ramming his shoulder against the door, a  low growl ripping from his chest at every blow, after the third time the flimsy piece of wood ripped from the hinges!

The steam from the shower came pouring flooding into the hallway……The handle still in Taehyung’s hand, as it swung backwards,feeling jerk back into his hold. Almost as if something was hindering it from fully swinging flush against the wall…That’s when his eyes dropped to the floor….

THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE FOR NOW...IF YOU ENJOYED PLEASE MAKE SURE TO “LIKE” IT AND COME CHAT IN THE ASK BOX. 

I do base continuing this series on the amount of likes it gets because that’s the only way I know there's still interest...as long as the chapters hover around the same numbers and or increase I will keep writing while I have inspo!  

ALSO YESSSS LOL The beginning “monologue” is actually a part of part 5....it was just foreshadowing the mood, and what was in store for part 4!  BUT it is in reference to the ending of this chapter...so you’ll have to wait and see exactly WHY he’s feeling like that

Love you guys as always,

ROCKI

[winterisakillerwrites]

Imperfect Tense - Part Three

Title: Imperfect Tense

One Shot: 3/3

Character: Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Genre: Angst

Rating: M

Summary: Secrets are powerful things. They shape who we are and how we interact with others and with the world. Tom assumed his secret was safe and his life would remain as it ever was. He was wrong.

Authors Notes/Warnings: I thought this story was over when I had posted part two. It was an abrupt ending, yes, but it fit.

And then Molly decided there was more that needed to be said and here we are. This story is now complete….The journey Tom and Molly go on, however, most likely is not. There is too much more to explore for me to say I won’t ever come back to these two. But this particular part of their story has come to a close. I hope you all enjoy.  

Thank you again to @nonsensicalobsessions, @redfoxwritesstuff and @ciaodarknessmyheart for being sounding boards for this last part of the story. Your help has been so so valuable and I doubt this story would be as good as I feel it is without your help. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

“What the fucking hell were you thinking?!” Luke’s voice rose three octaves as he yelled at the pale, drawn man sitting before him. There was a fire in Luke’s eyes that Tom hadn’t seen and, gods above, he knew he deserved it. Every last bit of it.

It had been nearly three days since he’d come home and watched the life he’d left behind shatter beyond repair before him. Nearly three days since he’d seen the broken, angry, disbelieving pain swim in Molly’s eyes. Three days since she’d left and he’d learned he’d been a father. Twice now, if that stupid fucking letter was to be believed. God, it was a mess. A complete and utter travesty and there was nothing he could think of to do; no way he could fathom to fix the utter mess he had made of everything.

Luke had found him sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, almost an hour before. Tom had barely moved since Molly had stormed out; forcing himself to use the bathroom when need became too great, but hardly sleeping (when he had, he woke in a panic searching for Molly only to remember she was gone) and barely eating. He’d known time had passed, but honestly hadn’t been at all aware of just how much. His phone had rung incessantly for what felt like hours and after the dozenth time he’d looked and found Luke’s number instead of Molly’s, he’d thrown the infernal thing across the room, not caring if it broke. And frankly he had enjoyed the thud it made as the bloody thing collided with the wall.

But Luke was not one to be ignored and had Tom been in his right mind, he wouldn’t have been surprised when Luke had finally shown up to say whatever he’d had to say in person. He’d come storming in the house, cursing and yelling for Tom to “show his goddamned idiotic face and show it now.” Tom could remember hearing the thunder of Luke’s feet on the stairs and then the intake of breath as he came down the hall and stopped in the doorway.

Tom raised his head, blinking as Luke’s reddened face came into clear focus. Luke paused for barely a moment before charging in the room, brandishing a manila folder in his right hand. He paused and flipped the damned thing open, throwing their contents at Tom, who watched absently as they fell to the floor at his feet. A letter, he noted, much like the one Molly had been holding when he’d walked in the door and lost everything. And several print outs of what looked to be online articles. He blinked down at them and then up at Luke.

“Do you have any idea the kind of madness I’ve been dealing with for the past 72 hours?! You go off the fucking radar, don’t answer your goddamned phone, and this insanity is spreading like wildfire. Are you aware that she went to the press? That’s she’s told everyone?!”

Once again Tom blinked in confusion.

Molly? Molly had gone to the press and told them what he’d done? The thought froze his heart. He couldn’t believe she would do something like that. He’d known he’d hurt her…That he’d broken what they had, but for her to run off and tell the world? That wasn’t his Molly. That wasn’t the woman he’d known, he’d loved. Who’d loved him. “Molly…She couldn’t…She wouldn’t…” His voice cracked as he spoke the words, both from disuse and disbelief.

It was Luke’s turn to blink in bewilderment.

“Molly? Why would Molly…?” He shook his head. “No, she hasn’t answered any of my calls either….I’m talking about Heather James. You know, the woman you fucked in a club bathroom in LA two years back? She’s gone to the fucking press with not only your affair, which paints you in an absolutely terrific light seeing as your relationship with Molly was public knowledge at the fucking time, but the fact that you have a son by her! Jesus Christ, Tom, this is a fucking shit show.” He paused running a hand through his short, brown hair. “I’m barely managing to keep up with all of it. And with your engagement announcement two months back…This is bad. Very, very, VERY bad.”

Tom found himself nodding but not truly comprehending the words Luke spoke. It all seemed so surreal, like a horrid nightmare, and all he wanted was to wake from it and find that none of it had actually happened. To find Molly beside him, holding him and telling him she loved him. It couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening.

“…Are you even fucking listening to me, Tom?”

He slowly raised his head and met Luke’s gaze. Tom watched the exasperation and annoyance play across his publicist’s face as it became abundantly clear he hadn’t truly been listening. “What?” he managed to choke out.

Luke bit back a groan. “I was saying you and Molly need to release a joint statement on the matter. You need to say something to counteract this shit storm that is raining down on you. And you both need to do it now. Ignoring it isn’t going to work, not this time.”

Tom shook his head, his eyes burning once more with tears. “She’s gone.” It was the first time he’d spoken the words aloud and they sounded strange to his ears. Like they couldn’t be the truth. “She left.”

“When you say left…” Luke let the words trail off but Tom could hear the steel in them. It was clear he had a very good idea just what Tom had meant. And it was just as clear that he intended for Tom to say it aloud.

Tom cleared his throat, unsure just how to put this whole mess into words. “She…She had the letter when I got home,” he paused, working to clear his throat as the words threatened to choke him. “ She…She’d read it and asked me to tell her it wasn’t true…And I…I didn’t know what to do…I didn’t mean to…”

Luke blinked. “But she knew about the affair. You told her…” He trailed off, staring at Tom in enraged disbelief as understanding dawned. “You fucking didn’t tell her about it did you?” Fire burned in Luke’s eyes and he threw his hands up in frustrated incredulity. “You stupid, selfish, moronic fucking coward! You didn’t bloody ever tell her and she was blindsided by…Oh my fucking GOD Thomas, I am going to murder you!”

“I didn’t think…” Tom pleaded.

“No, you didn’t fucking think at all did you?” Luke ran a trembling hand through his hair, shaking his head in frustrating disbelief. “She had no idea about any of this…Dammit all Thomas, I thought you had fucking told her. I begged you to tell her. Why the fucking hell didn’t you?” Luke’s dark eyes locked on his own and the guilt and regret burned inside him.

“Because I didn’t want to lose her,” Tom snapped, glaring up at Luke. It didn’t matter that everything Luke said made sense. He should have told her straight off. He should have been honest. But he hadn’t and it had cost him everything. “I fucked up, Luke. Is that what you want to bloody hear?! I. Fucked. Up. I was a coward. A fucking spineless coward and now she’s gone! She’s having my baby and she left me because I fucked it all up!”

Luke’s mouth, which had been open ready to fire a snarky retort, slammed shut. He blinked at Tom for several minutes in apparent incomprehension before gathering himself enough to choke out, “Molly’s pregnant…”

Tom swallowed thickly and nodded.

Luke threw his hands in the air. “Fucking hell, Tom.” He paced feverishly around the room, muttering to himself and occasionally shooting daggers in Tom’s direction.

The guilt that had been simmering merrily away for the last several days boiled over and Tom fought to control his breathing. This was bad. This was very, very bad and he felt as though everything had turned violently on its head.

“…she’ll talk to me.”

“All my fault,” Tom muttered over and over again to himself. Because it was all his fault. Every last miniscule bit of it. He’d made one stupid, cowardly choice after another and suddenly here he was having to answer for each and every one with no idea how the hell he was going to do so.

“It bloody is and don’t you dare expect me to sugar coat it for you,” Luke snapped. “You should have told her from the word go. You had so many fucking chances to say something and you fucking didn’t. If you had this would have been bad but we could have fucking managed it…Now, fuck, I have no idea which way this will go. And when the goddamned media finds out not only that Molly’s pregnant but she’s left you…”

“That’s not the point!” Tom hissed, pushing himself to his feet. He fought off a giddy wave of dizziness and nausea at the sudden movement. “I don’t give a flying fuck what those bastards print about me. You think I honestly care?”

“Honestly, Tom? I don’t know. The way you’ve been…It’s like I don’t know who you are anymore.”

The words stung far more than he’d expected them to, but it could not fault the truth in them. This person he’d become; this lying, secretive, dishonest man wearing his face wasn’t one he’d recognized. And that terrified him. “What am I going to do?” He hadn’t directed the question at Luke, but his friend answered him all the same.

“I’m going to head back to the office and try to contact Heather James’ solicitor and see if we can try to sort this mess.” He paused and let his eyes roll over the broken man who’d fallen back to sit on the edge of the bed once more. “You are going to march yourself into the shower, clean yourself up, and eat. After that we’ll have to play it by ear.”

                                                            —

Tom had showered, dressed in the first pieces of clothing his fingers touched, and settled at the wooden table in his kitchen, a plate of toast before him, when he heard his front door open and close followed by Luke’s footsteps in the hallway. “Back here,” he called out, half-heartedly.

He let his eyes raise to the doorway as Luke wandered in the kitchen, a sober expression painted on his face.

“I’ve been in contact with Ms. James’ solicitor and as their letter stated they are requesting a paternity test which we are not contesting. They wanted to discuss financial support for the child but until it’s proven that he is, indeed, yours that subject matter is off the table. As are any visitation and living arrangements. I’ve also requested that neither Ms. James nor any member of her team or her family speak with the press regarding this matter…Though I fear that ship as long since sailed.” He paused taking a deep breath before clasping his hands together before him. “Still better to try to curtail this now then try to fight whatever else gets spread across the papers.”

Silently, Tom nodded not quite taking it all in. He might have a son. A son. A little boy he’d never met. The idea was overwhelming. A father…He’d always wanted to be a father. Had always hoped that if the day came, he would have been able to be involved from the word go. To watch his child grow within the belly of its mother. Had hoped to be in a steady, committed relationship. Had always planned on it happening with Molly.

But he’d been a stupid, selfish idiot and ruined any chance he’d had. And now because of it he could so easily lose the chance to be there for Molly and the child she was carrying. Fresh tears stung at his eyes and he pushed the toast away, his appetite all but gone.

“…can get you into have the bloodwork drawn tomorrow morning. It shouldn’t take more than two to three days for the results and once we’ve got them we can figure out what comes next.”

Tom cleared his throat and raised his eyes towards Luke once more. “If…If he’s mine, I want to be there for him. I need to be there…This mess isn’t his fault and I won’t have him suffering for it, regardless of how all of this came about.”

A brief flash of pity mixed with a resigned understanding flashed in Luke’s eyes and he nodded. “I know, Tom. I know. If he’s yours I’ll help make sure you are as involved as you want to be.” He paused and cleared his throat, eyes darkening slightly. “I spoke with Molly…”

Tom’s head snapped up at this. “Is she alright? Please tell me she’s okay…I can’t…”

Luke threw his hands up, trying to halt Tom’s explosion of words. “She is about as alright as she can be, given the circumstances…She is understandably upset and angry…”

“Did she….Will she let me talk to her…Let me try to explain.” The naked hope in his eyes tore at Luke but he shook his head.

“I don’t think that is such a good idea. I think you’ve done enough damage for now. Just…Just let her be. There will be time enough to sort out the details of how you will both handle this.”

“But I can’t just…” Even if it was hopeless he couldn’t just let it be. He had to try, he had to do something.

“Yes you bloody fucking can.” Luke snapped, hitting his fist against the table with enough force to rattle the forgotten plate of toast. “Do you not get it? Molly has every right in the world to wash her hands of you. To deny you the right to see the baby she’s carrying. Every. Bloody. Right. Fuck, she would be well within her rights to drag you through the courts and destroy you if you push her to it.”

Tom blinked in confusion, his heart thudding in his chest.

“This isn’t something you can smile and charm your way out of, Tom. You. Fucked. Up.” He empathized each word with the slam of his first to the table. “This isn’t going to simply blow over. Not only did you sleep with someone else, you lied to her about it. And you kept right on lying. You fucked up every bloody time you had the chance to come clean with Molly and you chose not to. This isn’t one mistake, Tom. This isn’t one slip-up. This is a series of stupid, fucking decisions and they are all on you. Every. Single. One. And you need to own that and then figure out how to live with it.”

Luke took a deep breath and settled himself onto the chair opposite from Tom. Neither spoke for several minutes.

“How?” Tom’s voice was small, almost broken.

Luke took a deep breath, resting his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “You’ll have to figure that one out for yourself.” He turned towards the doorway, pausing momentarily to pull something from his pocket. “Almost forgot.” He placed it onto the table before Tom who looked at it in confusion. “Your mobile was in pieces…Again. And I have to be able to get hold of you. Try not to destroy this one.”

With a sigh Luke turned once more and headed down the hall and towards the front door. A moment later Tom heard it click shut and once more he was alone.

                                                         —

The car Luke had arranged arrived mid-morning the following day. Tom tried not to think about the parallel between this morning and one almost two years ago as he silently climbed into the backseat. He’d slept fitfully the previous night, tossing and turning for several hours before giving up the ghost entirely. It didn’t matter, he’d lost the right to sleep peacefully, and he’d known that.

He rested his head against the cool glass of the window as the city blurred past, paying it little mind. Luke had called shortly before the car had arrived to make sure he was up and ready. Tom wanted to resent Luke for doing so, for babying him, but given the mess he’d been (and honestly still was) he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when it was something Luke would have done before everything had fallen to pieces.

The car slowed and then finally came to a stop forty minutes later. He opened the car door and blinked up at the tall, dull, brick building. It was overcast, overhead rain clouds threatened. Fitting.

Climbing out, Tom made his way into the lobby of the building. It was well lit with several uncomfortable chrome and mutely coloured chairs lined near the wall of glass windows. Standing to the side of the main doors was Luke, absently staring at his mobile. He looked up at the sound of the doors and offered Tom a smile (which was honestly more of a grimace). In silence, they headed towards the lifts and then up towards the laboratory. Giving his blood and saliva samples was a simple matter; Tom and Luke were out of the building and back into the waiting car fifteen minutes later.

Neither man spoke as the car pulled off and merged back into the London late morning traffic. Luke turned his attention back to his mobile. He tapped away busily at the screen. Several minutes later Luke looked up, pocketing his mobile.  “I’ve let the solicitors know the samples were obtained and the results pending.”

Tom nodded. “Alright.”

What else could he possibly say? There weren’t words to describe the emotions coursing through him and he found himself both wishing that the little boy wasn’t his (how could he be a father to a child he didn’t know?) and that he was (if he was then maybe some good would come of all the mess he’d made). He didn’t dare voice either thought. How could he?

When the car stopped again it was in front of the offices for Prosper. Luke opened the door, looking back at the broken man staring sightlessly out of the opposite window. “Tom?”

Blinking Tom turned his attention from his thoughts and towards Luke. “Hm?”

“Call your mother. She’s called the office and my mobile several times trying to get hold of you. She’s worried sick.”

He nodded. The idea of talking to his mother, of hearing the disappointment and disapproval in her voice, terrified him. She loved Molly. Had been so incredibly happy when Tom told her of the engagement.

“That woman loves you, my boy, with all of her heart. You are so very lucky to have found her.” His mother’s words echoed in his mind, adding to the weight of the guilt and self-disgust he carried. She would kill him for this and he honestly couldn’t blame her. He’d had something amazing, something so fucking special, and he’d thrown it away. God, how could he have been such a fool?

What was worse was that by now his mother would have seen the articles, known what he’d done. And he knew he deserved every disappointed and disgusted word she would say to him. He was her son, yes, but she adored Molly and he’d broken her heart. But Luke had been right, avoiding his mother wouldn’t change what had happened and he knew, despite whatever anger and disappointment she felt towards him, she was worried. And despite the mess he’d made of everything, he couldn’t stand worrying his mother.

Tom barely noticed the car pulling to a stop and the driver had to call his name twice before he realized he was home. With a murmured thanks, Tom climbed out of the car and slowly up the steps towards his front door. The house felt so cold, so empty without Molly’s light and Tom fought back a sob as he pushed the door closed behind him and stood in the dim entry way.

Swallowing thickly, he stumbled his way into the lounge and dropped himself haphazardly onto the sofa. He sat, head cradled in his hands for what felt like hours before he took another deep breath and fumbled his new mobile from his pocket.

Clumsily, he dialed the familiar number, holding the phone to his ear as it rang once, twice before the line clicked. “Oh Thomas,” his mother’s worn voice answered. “My boy, what have you done?”

“Mum,” he breathed, the tears he’d fought finally breaking free. “Oh God, mum. I really messed up.”

                                                           —

Luke called early three days later letting him know the clinic had sent over the test results and that he was needed at Prosper as soon as he was able to go over them. Tom dressed with trepidation, his mind racing over just what fate awaited him. He’d been grateful Luke had sent a car, he didn’t think he could face driving or the chaos that public transport had become.

Since the tabloids had broken with the story of the affair and his illegitimate child, Tom found himself once more under a deluge of press attention. He’d been followed and hounded on his morning run (which he’d only restarted as a means to take his mind off of what was happening). Anytime he was spotted in public there was someone with a camera or yelling for his attention and comment on the story. He’d kept his head down as much as possible, knowing that if he snapped at them the way he longed to he would be making matters so much worse than they already were. And there was the fact that Luke would cheerfully beat him to death if he did anything to rock the boat on this.

The car was outside his gate at half past the hour and Tom quickly made his way out of the house and into its cool interior, mumbling a quiet hello to his driver. Traffic was lighter than he’d expected and they pulled to a stop in front of Prosper’s building in what felt like moments. Tom fought to contain the panic roiling inside of him as he made his way into the building and towards the lifts that would lead him to Luke’s office.

The low murmur of an office at work greeted him as the lift doors pinged open. Tom gave Nancy at reception a small smile as he headed down the hall towards Luke’s door. She’d been with Luke since he started the firm and they’d always gotten on well. She was just as no nonsense as Luke and, having worked in the industry for years, was an invaluable asset to the firm. Nancy nodded back and waved him on.

Luke’s door was ajar and Tom could hear his voice pouring out into the hallway. He paused at the door and knocked on its frame. Luke looked up, placing his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone in his hand and nodded Tom inside.

“Alright, I’ll get back to you about the interview…Alright. Take care.” Luke placed the phone back onto its cradle and turned his full attention on Tom who still stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Seriously mate, come in. I’m not going to bite.”

His jest pulled the tiniest twinge of a smile from Tom and he made his way inside, settling on the black leather chair across from Luke’s desk. They sat in silence for several moments before Tom spoke. “You called about the results?” He fought to keep his voice steady and even, though the extent of his nerves were clear in the way his foot bounced against the carpeted floor.

Luke nodded once. “They sent them over this morning.” He reached across the desk to hand Tom a sealed white envelope. Tom couldn’t hide the visible shake in his hand as he took the envelope. It took him several moments to still them enough to slip his finger beneath the seal and break it. With a deep breath and a mounting sense of foreboding, Tom pulled the sheets of paper from the envelope, unfolding them with care, before allowing his eyes to read over the stark black text.

His blood pounded in his ears and he had to read the words several times before the meaning became clear.

Regarding the child Francis Henry James…No paternal match…

No paternal match.

The boy wasn’t his.

The sharp sense of relief he felt at those words was dulled by a flash of disappointment that Tom couldn’t reconcile. This was a good thing. Wasn’t it? Things would be easier this way. But still, for a brief moment, Tom found himself grieving the loss of a child that might have been his. Of a life that wouldn’t ever be.

Tom swallowed against the lump in his throat. In all the panic and worry of the last several days, he hadn’t truly stopped and thought about what all of this would mean if the child hadn’t been his. Stupidly, he’d been laboring under the belief that the boy was his son and no matter what had happened between himself and the boy’s mother, that little boy, Francis…Frank, was his and was an innocent in all of this. And Tom would do everything in his power to do right by him. He’d been, unconsciously, making plans about what room he’d need to change into a child’s bedroom for when the boy would stay with him. Along with the room that would serve as a nursery for his baby with Molly…But that was all in vain now.

“Do I need to be drafting a press release asking for privacy as you and your son get to know one another?” Luke’s voice broke through the tangle of confusion in Tom’s mind causing him to stare up blankly. His publicist sat perched on the edge of his desk, arms folded across his chest with a carefully constructed neutral, yet expectant, expression painted across his face.

It was several minutes before Tom found his voice. “No,” he choked out, coughing to clear his throat. “You don’t need…He’s not…I’m not his father.” He blinked back tears, wiping at his face in frustrated helplessness.

Without saying a word, Luke was at his side with a box of tissue. Tom reached out and took one, blowing his nose and fighting valiantly to get himself back under control. But try as he might, Tom couldn’t stop the way his shoulders shook nor the tears that were trailing down his face. He was grateful Luke wasn’t forcing him to talk because he honestly didn’t think he could find the words to explain what the fuck was happening in his head.

He couldn’t say just how long he sat in Luke’s office, mourning the loss of the only good thing that could come from this mess he’d made. All he knew for certain was his head ached and his eyes felt raw as he was ushered into the back of the car Luke called for him. He would have winced at the brightness of the afternoon sunlight on his face had he not been wearing a pair of dark sunshades which were thrust at him on his way out the door.

“The last thing we need right now are pictures of you in tears,” Luke has grumbled as he shut the door behind Tom.

The ride back to his home was a blur. He could remember bits and pieces of the journey but he still blinked in confusion when the car pulled to a stop at the gate. Tom stumbled from the back of the car, punching the gate code in with shaking hands, and then slowly up the steps towards his door. He dropped the keys twice before managing to unlock the door and push it open.

The house was silent and dark for all that the midday sunlight was pouring in through the curtains lining the sitting room windows. He hated it. Hated everything about it. Tom fell back against the door, hearing it click shut against the push of his weight, and sank to the floor. He rested his head against his bent knees and simply fought to breathe.

He hadn’t any idea how long he’d been sitting there, he was only now aware that the hallway was now painted in growing shadow. Blinking, Tom rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands and slowly pushed himself to his feet. His back throbbed as he stood upright, attesting to the fact he must have been sitting for quite some time. He rubbed it absently as he made his way into the kitchen.

Pulling a glass from the cabinet, he carried it to the sink and filled it with cool water, downing it in three gulps. He filled the glass twice more before making his way into the living room and dropping himself onto the sofa. Everything he’d found himself clinging to, the faint glimmer of hope in the storm his life had fallen into, had been for nothing and once more he found himself floundering. How could he ever hope to fix any of this now?

                                                           —

The next few days crept past, Tom moving through the motions more than anything. He answered the phone when Luke or his mother called, insisting he was fine in a tone which fooled no one, least of all himself. He read scripts and tried to eat on a regular basis; though he failed more than succeeded in that front. Tom felt as though he was living underwater, he could see things happening around him, hear distant echoes but could not seem to reach out and actually be one with them. Not that he was truly trying over much.

Each time Luke called, Tom found himself asking if he’d heard anything from Molly. Desperate for something, anything to let him know she was alright. How could this ever be alright? She hadn’t called him, not that he’d expected her to but still he’d hoped, and each time he tried her number it rang out as disconnected. Luke had brushed him off nearly every time, “This is your mess, mate, and I won’t get myself involved any more than I need to.”

“Just let me know if she’s okay. I just need to know that she’s alright.”

“Tom,” Luke breathed out in exasperation, “Don’t put me in this situation, I am asking as your friend. And as hers. Please, let it be.”

“I can’t, Luke. Not when things are like this. Not if there isn’t a chance I could try to make this right.”

“No, Tom.”

He couldn’t seem to let the idea go. The need to speak with Molly, to know that she was alright. To try all he could do to fix the mess he’d made. And maybe, just maybe now that he knew for certain that the boy wasn’t his…Maybe she would be able to forgive him. Maybe that could make this work. Maybe they could be a family. Maybe…

                                                           —

Tom hadn’t let himself think as he made his way down the brightly lit hallway. Hadn’t acknowledged anything more than the blaze of hope that sparked in him when Molly had finally agreed to meet with him. It had taken nearly two weeks to get her to take his call, let alone speak with him, and even then he knew it was with extreme reluctance.

Luke had played middleman begrudgingly and made it perfectly clear though he was paid to look after Tom’s interests, he was firmly on Molly’s side in this. “Keep your head, Tom,” Luke had cautioned him as he handed over the folded piece of paper on which he’d written Molly’s current number. “She is giving you the chance to talk, don’t fuck this up. And please, for the love of god, don’t make this worse.”

He meticulously scanned each of the numbers on the doors until he’d come to Molly’s, trying to ignore the nerves fluttering steadily in his gut. Molly, he’d learned, had initially been staying at a friend’s while she searched for more permanent arrangements and had moved into her own flat the week before. The flat wasn’t too far from the house they’d shared, Tom had stared at the address she’d given him in disbelief. So close. She’d been so close and he’d not been any the wiser. The knowledge of it stung far more than he’d wanted to admit. But she’d agreed to meet with him. To talk. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

Taking a deep breath he raised his hand and knocked gently on the door. He rocked on his heels, shoving his hands firmly into his pockets to stop their fidgeting. He always seemed to fidget when he was nervous. He could hear a rustling from inside and the click of the lock unlatching. His heart stuttered and froze in his chest as the door opened and he found Molly standing before him.

He could see the toll of the last few weeks painted across her features. There were shadows under her light blue eyes and a wariness in them, and in her posture, he didn’t quite understand. She was clearly exhausted and it took all he had to keep himself from sweeping in and trying to fix things, as every fiber in his being wanted him to. She merely nodded at him, standing firmly in the doorway.

“How are you?” The question slipped from his lips without his bidding and Tom wanted to kick himself for it. “I’m sorry that was…I didn’t mean…”

“Just don’t, Tom,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”

Tom felt his heart constrict in his chest at the pain he could see in Molly’s eyes, no matter how desperately she tried to hide it. He was the worst sort of person and he knew it. But maybe…Just maybe if she let him talk, let him explain, this might be a way to begin to rebuild the shattered trust between them.

Please. Please.

Several silent moments passed between them before Molly stood aside and allowed him to walk past her into the flat. He found his eyes scanning the small, but cozy, looking front room. There wasn’t a great deal in the way of furniture; a squashy grey sofa and matching arm chair, darkly stained coffee and end tables, and a wooden and metal bookshelf still mostly empty. Boxes lined the far left hand wall, stacked neatly with the top-most open.

Molly settled herself on the armchair, crossing her arms loosely across her chest. Tom quietly did the same on the sofa. Neither spoke, the silence between them growing more strained by the moment. He heard rather than saw Molly take a deep breath and quickly raised his eyes to her face. “You wanted to talk, Tom.”

Tom clenched and unclenched his hands in his lap. He could feel her cool eyes locked on him. It was now or never. He swallowed thickly before speaking, knowing he had to get the words out. Had to make her understand. The worst was over now. They could try to rebuild. It wouldn’t be easy, he knew that, but it would be worth it. They could do this.

“I…We got the results back. Of the paternity test. The child he…He isn’t mine.” The words came out in a rush and hope burned brightly in his eyes as Tom stared into Molly’s. It was going to be alright, it had to be. He’d been given a second chance. They both had. Surely, she could see that.

He waited, watching the emotion play across her face. Waited for the confusion to break into a quiet joy. For her to understand that it was over and that they could make this work. They could truly be a family. And he would make all of this up to her. He would make it right. This was his chance to do so.

“Oh.” The word tumbled from her lips. “I’m glad it’s settled for you then.” But she didn’t smile. No sign of relief spread across her features. Nothing had changed…

“Oh,” Tom echoed and felt his heart sink. “But I thought…”

“You thought what, Tom?” Molly’s sharp tone cut straight through him and he flinched at her words. “You thought that just because her paternity claim was false that everything would be fine? You lied to me Tom. You slept with someone else and then lied to me about it. You got a fucking STI and you kept that from me. You took what we had and threw it in the fire and you think that just because you dodged this particular bullet I should be grateful and forgive you?” Frustration and disbelief shone in her bright eyes. “I’m sorry Tom, but that is not how it works. That is not how any of this fucking works.”

“It was a mistake,” he started, needing her to listen to him. To give him a chance to fix it.

“No, Tom,” Molly snapped out, pushing herself to her feet. She paced around the room, hands waving as she carried on. “A mistake is getting the reservation times mixed up. A mistake is forgetting to call after you’ve made it home safe. Sleeping with someone else and lying about it for two years…That…That is not a fucking mistake and don’t you dare try to pass it off as such.”

He stood as well, staring at her as the words she’d thrown at him hit home. “I…Molly, please, tell me how to fix this,” he pleaded, unconsciously reaching out toward her. “Tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it. Anything. Anything at all. Just please, please let me fix this.” He took two cautious steps towards her.

Molly shook her head, taking several steps back from him. “You don’t get it, Tom. There is no fixing this.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and locked her eyes on his. “That time came and went two fucking years ago. You lied to me. Again and again and again. You made the life I thought we were building together into a nothing more than a mockery of what it should have been. You can’t fix this, Thomas. Not now.”

“Please don’t say that, Molly,” he begged, fear choking his voice. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. This couldn’t be happening. He had to fix this. He had to. “Please don’t. I can’t…I have to fix this. Please.”

Molly shook her head. “No, Tom. There is no fixing this.”

“But the baby…” His words trailed off as his eyes lingered on her distant form. Her baby. Their baby. This baby needed them both. They had to fix this. He had to fix this.

Molly’s hands unconsciously dropped to her stomach, cupping now barely visible swell there. He doubted he would have even seen it had she not done so. “Don’t, Tom,” She whispered, taking a deep breath before continuing her voice stronger. “This baby is the only reason I am even speaking to you.” There was a fire in her eyes Tom had never seen and truth be told it terrified him. Anger was never an emotion he’d ever truly seen from Molly, not centered on him, and to see it now let loose a very real spasm of fear. “Don’t you dare try to use this baby to get your own damned way!”

Tom leapt to his feet, hands raised before him, and took a tentative step towards Molly. “That isn’t what I’m trying to do.” And it wasn’t…Not completely. He couldn’t let her shut him out. Not now. He needed to fix this before it was too late.

“I think you should leave, Tom.”

Her words didn’t make any sense. “No, please don’t…” He couldn’t leave now. If he left then he might never get another chance to fix this. And he had to fix it. He had to.

Molly shook her head, walking with steadfast determination to the door. “I want you to leave right now. I can’t do this.”

“But…”

“Tom, please.”

He stood for several moments, indecision painted across his features before his shoulders slumped in defeat and he walked quietly to the door. Tom paused, his eyes roaming over Molly’s stoic face. He took a slow, deep breath and spoke quietly. “For what it’s worth, Molly, I am truly sorry.”

“That’s all well and good, Tom, but sorry doesn’t fix anything.”

Tom nodded, forcing the ghost of a smile as he felt the tears burning in his eyes. “I know.” And god I wish it would. Without another word he turned and walked out of the flat.

                                                           —

Luke’s call came almost an hour after Tom had made his way home. He thought, briefly, about simply letting the call go to voicemail; it would be infinitely easier than whatever Luke had to say. Instead he slid his finger across the screen and placed the call on speaker. “Yes, Luke?”

There was a resigned sigh before Luke’s voice echoed throughout the room. “Why can’t you listen to what I tell you? Just once, for the sheer novelty value of it.”

“I just…I wanted to fix it…”

Luke groaned. “Tom, you cannot fix this. Not now. The time to fix it was two damned years ago. And if you’d just told her like I all but begged you to…”

“I know, Luke,” Tom snapped, cutting the man off mid-sentence. “I fucking know! You don’t need to tell me I fucked up the best thing in my life because I’m a selfish bastard. I know, Luke. I can’t ever forget it! I just…I had to try.” He fought to keep his words steady as the composure he’d struggled desperately to keep finally broke. Sobs wracked him and he found himself gasping for breath. It took several minutes to calm himself enough to speak clearly. “I just…I couldn’t not try.”

“Well your trying could make this much, much worse. You have to know that,” Luke stressed and Tom could hear the strain in the man’s voice. “The press doesn’t know Molly is pregnant, and thank god for that, but it’s not something that can be hidden forever. Not with the way the press has been on what’s happened. And when it does come out, they are going to be brutal; not only to you but to her as well. You push her too far and she could wash her hands of you entirely. She could up and leave and keep the baby from you and fuck me, I don’t know if I could blame her.”

Tom felt the barely contained panic threatening to break loose once again. Molly leaving and keeping their baby from him. Both of them gone for good. His knees buckled and it took all he had to lower himself onto the floor lest they give out completely and he collapse. “She wouldn’t…Molly wouldn’t ever…”

“There was a time when she would have said the same thing about you and we both know how that turned out.” Luke let out a frustrated sigh. “Tom, speaking as your publicist, I’m asking…No, Tom, I’m telling you to leave her be. Don’t push. Don’t try to fix it. Just let me handle this. Please. Before it goes from bad to worse. Do you hear me?”

It was several moments before Tom realized that Luke could not see him nodding and croaked out his assent. Yes, he would leave her alone. He would let Luke sort this as best he could. The call ended soon after but Tom remained on the floor, his mind racing.

How had all of this spiraled so far out of control? How could he have let this happen? He knew better. He should have come clean to Molly when she had called him back that night; should have told her the truth and begged her forgiveness. But he hadn’t and now there was nothing he could do to fix the mess he’d made.

                                                         —

In the two weeks that followed, Tom did his best to keep to Luke’s request. He kept his head down as best he could, kept mostly to his home and went through the small pile of scripts that had started to accumulate. Not that he could actually focus on them; he’d read the same passage three times in the last ten minutes and still couldn’t make hide nor hair of any of it. With a tired groan, Tom tossed the script aside, rubbing his bleary eyes with the palms of his hands. There was no point in trying to pretend he was going to get anywhere with them, not with the way his mind refused to focus.

Pushing himself to his feet, he padded from the living room towards the kitchen. Mindlessly, he set about making himself a mug of tea; loose leaf tea from the cabinet, water in the kettle and setting it to boil, jug of milk from the refrigerator, mug and strainer set aside waiting. There was something soothing about the whole process; it was something he had done thousands of times. It made him think of home and his mum and the times when all the world’s ails could be cured with a cuppa.

As the kettle boiled he set about measuring out the tea and placing it in the strainer atop the green chipped mug. A few minutes later had the kettle boiled, the water poured, and the fragrant leaves brewing. Once steeped he tossed the used tea leaves, added his milk, and carried the mug back into the living room. Tea might not fix everything, but with all that had happened, it certainly couldn’t hurt.

He settled back onto the couch and sipped while he debated picking up the script once more. It wasn’t the best story he’d ever read, but decent enough. Under normal circumstances, and had his head been clearer, he knew he’d been very much taken in by it. As it was though…

Tom let out a soft sigh, resting his mug atop his knee and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He needed to get himself together. Falling apart wasn’t going to help anyone, least of all himself; he’d known that. But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

A muffled ring echoed from between the cushions of the sofa.

Perplexed, Tom sat staring for several long moments before his wits caught up with him. He leapt to his feet, placing his mug on the edge of the coffee table, and reached between the cushions where the ringing seemed be loudest. He grumbled as his fingers at first found nothing then just as quickly slid against the smooth metal back of his mobile. He yanked it out and slid his finger across the screen to answer, not bothering to look at the number. It was most likely his mother; she’d spent the past week trying to encourage him to come home for a few days to “get away”. He knew she worried over him and with all the goings on, her mothering instinct had gone into overdrive.

“Hello?”

Luke’s voice echoed through the mobile’s speaker. “Tom, is this a good time?”

While there wasn’t anything off about Luke’s question, there was something in the tone of it that set off alarm bells in Tom’s mind. Panic, potent and strong flooded through. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he fought for control of his voice. Something was wrong. Molly’s face flashed before his eyes.

Let her be okay. Let her and the baby be okay. Please. Please.

“Luke, what is it? What’s happened?” He knew his voice was shaking, knew all his bloody training was less than worthless now, and there was little he could do to stop it.

There was a soft sigh and a pause before Luke answered. “I’m about five minutes from yours and I have something we need to talk about.”

He managed to grunt something, he couldn’t say exactly what, in response and only half heard Luke’s answer before the call ended. He stared at the now blank screen as he collapsed back onto the sofa. His hands shook and he felt the mobile slip from his fingers to land on the rug below with a soft thump.

It took several minutes for Tom to register that the buzzing he was hearing was coming from the doorbell and not his head. It took another few moments to get to his feet and stumble towards the door. His fingers felt large, clumsy, and useless as he struggled with the lock. It took two tries to get it undone and to pull the darkly stained wooden door open.

Luke stood in the doorway, an unreadable expression painted across his face. He pulled his sunglasses off as he stepped inside and offered Tom a small, half-hearted smile which did little to put him at ease. They both stood in the entryway, silence spreading between them. There were so many things Tom wanted to ask but the words simply wouldn’t come.

“I think we should probably sit down for this,” Luke suggested, putting a hand on Tom’s shoulder and guiding him towards the living room.

Tom felt his heart plummet at Luke’s words and stumbled into the living room, collapsing onto the sofa. Luke settled in the arm-chair adjacent, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Clearing his throat, Tom forced himself to raise his eyes towards Luke and choked out. “What is it?”

Luke faltered for a moment before answering. He leant forward, pausing briefly to pull an envelope from his jacket pocket. “Over the last week and a half I’ve been in talks with a solicitor.” He paused once again and handed the envelope to Tom. His brow furrowing in confusion, Tom held the envelope in his hand staring from it to Luke. What could Heather possibly want now? Hadn’t she done enough?

“Molly’s solicitor.”

Tom’s head snapped up at this, his eyes widening as the colour drained slowly from his face. “Wh-what?”

“She had them contact me shortly after…Anyway, with all things being equal and with all that’s been happening, she wanted to get things in writing, as clearly as she could, before all of this gets out in the public. Because it will, Tom, whether you or I or Molly want it to or not.”

It was as if Luke was speaking from someplace far off, his voice was muffled and try as he might Tom could barely make sense of any of it. His fingers shook as he turned the off-white envelope over in his hands, only partially registering his name written across its front, and tore open its seal.

The paper inside was of surprisingly good quality; a creamy white which was a strong contrast to the crisp black of the text. The printed words seemed to blur as he struggled to make sense of them. His breath came in short, pained gasps as slowly, agonizingly their meaning became clear.

She wasn’t contesting his paternity and welcomed him to a paternity test if he so wished; if he wanted to be involved in the life of their child she would not deny him. But that was as far as she was prepared to go. He wasn’t allowed to contact her in any way unless in pertained to the child. She would share important doctor’s visits and any and all test results if requested. His presence at the birth would be up for discussion as the time drew closer though she did not want him alone with her in the room.

A choked sob fell from his lips as the paper slipped from his numb fingers to the floor. Tom couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. God this wasn’t happening. Please, god, this couldn’t be happening. He jumped at the feel of a hand resting on his shoulder and blinked up through tears he hadn’t realized he’d shed at Luke’s impassive face.

“Deep breath, mate. Just breathe.”

Tom struggled to draw in air, his lungs burning with the effort. It felt as though he was simply fighting to keep his head above the surface of a crushing sea. And each time he thought maybe, just maybe, he’d caught his breath another wave would crest and he’d be dragged back under.

“Why?” He managed to choke out.

Luke let out a soft, resigned sigh. “Because she knew you wouldn’t listen any other way.” He gripped Tom’s shoulder lightly. “You push and you push and you don’t listen. She knows you, Tom. And she took the steps she felt were necessary to protect herself. All you can do now is respect that. Don’t push her on this. Please, if you listen to nothing else I ask of you listen to this, please respect her choice in this matter. Respect the boundaries she is setting. Don’t push her to take this further.”

Unable to speak, Tom simply nodded. He didn’t have it in him to fight anymore, no matter how loudly his mind screamed for him to do so. This was his fault. All of it. Molly hated him and if he pushed any further he wasn’t completely sure if she wouldn’t take away the only remaining tie left between them. And he couldn’t lose that. Not after everything. But knowing that and accepting it were two completely different things and at that moment Tom wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to make that leap. And if he didn’t, what would it cost him?

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Iruma-kun 10 - 12 | Shinchou Yuusha 9 - 12 (FINAL) | Dr Stone 22 - 24 (FINAL) | BnHA 72 - 74 | Stars Align 9 - 12 (FINAL) | No Guns Life 10 - 12 (FINAL)

Iruma-kun 10

That mascot is still around to annoy poor Kalego, huh? (LOL) I also noticed the demonstration demons have horns like oni.

Oh no! This means Azz-Azz is a prime target for Iruma!

(I was going to write something. Then I got so engrossed in the action, I forgot to…)

LOL, Sabro’s too heavy for Team A to lift!

Oh, Iruma’s hair isn’t tied anymore…

“…pruning this cactus.” – Does Eggie-sensei like plants?

Ooh, the first double-parter ever for this show, I think it is.

Shinchou Yuusha 9

Apparently ep 10 got delayed…*sigh*

LOL, thre’s product placement for a certain ice cream brand in this episode, huh?

Can we not with the boob grope???

*Rista takes care of Mash and Elulu* - Rista’s such a mom sometimes…

Stars Align 9

This one scene with Nao looks really blue…it’s almost unsettling.

Oh dear…I understand the sentiment of an inferiority complex all too well.

Dr Stone 22

Now we’re back to good ol’ science vs. survival of the fittest philosophy clash. Now, see, that’s the Dr Stone I like best!

Torricelli’s law.

Why is mica like baumkuchen? Probably because it has a lot of layers…

Wow, for WSJ – which encouraged fangirls all over the world to make yaoi/shonen ai ships – they sure tossed out the yaoi/shonen ai option real fast…

Skarn. I’ve never heard of it until now.

Magma, staring at the product of magma…LOL.

I…don’t get it. Even after watching the bit again, I don’t understand why Magma was trying to save Senku.

So…as is said for most WSJ series, the treasure was the friends we made along the way…LOL, what a way to acknowledge a trope.

Lemme guess…surprise birthday party? (Sorry, when I was reading up on Magma earlier, I saw that Magma helps with a birthday surprise for Senku and I found out what it was.)

I wonder if Rei is still up there at this point…? (Who’s Rei? You’ll find out if you read the Byakuya reboot…)

Well, “Rock Day” only works in Japanese. The language would’ve drifted over thousands of years so it shouldn’t work in the year 5731 (or whatever year Dr Stone is set).

Dr Stone 23

One episode until the end…but I’m away over Christmas, so I’ll have quite a bit to catch up on when I’m back. Update: I never did end up going away over Christmas.

Senku is much more of a trickster hero than an action hero. That’s been pretty obvious all the way through, but here it’s at its most obvious.

Oh, so Kaseki made the village bridge? Is that a correct assumption…? Update: I think the answer was yes from the manga.

How much chemistry does Gen know, anyway? Assuming he’s a humanities person because of psychology and his tricks, it must only be basic, right?

Thse intense stares…I’ve been reading JJBA: DiU lately, so I’m expecting an 80s-style “!!” to appear over someone’s head at this point, LOL.

Ooh, hardware. In fact, it looks like the inside of a computer…or, more relevant to this case, a phone.

So it’s not “rules are rules” anymore? Now Kinro’s changed his words to reflect his faith in Senku…hmm! Interesting! (Update: A quick google says Kinro is 18. Senku is about 18 (+ 3700 years). Plus, after they start dragging Ginro away, Kinro says his trademark line.)

Wouldn’t the coal smoke alert Tsukasa of the village’s location, though…? Then again, thanks to Homura and Hyouga, Tsukasa already knows their location…oops.

Rochelle salt.  

I saw that one shot of the world from the 1st OP and I thought there was meant to be a post-credits segment…LOL, nope.

Dr Stone 24 (FINAL)

The “acquisition message” basically said “We didn’t (just) need one cell phone, (so) it was useless!” Notably, it uses the counter for large items (like computers) for the phone.

Having finished the Byakuya reboot now, I wanna cry every time I hear about the guy…

Oh! The eyecatch is a record!

Basically, what records do is that they recreate sounds by using vibrations created by the grooves of the disc. Sound is a set of vibrations.

“Astronauts are science elites…” – Except maybe Lillian Weinberg…

I like Shamil out of the guys from the Soyuz the most. He’s a cross between Tsukasa and Senku. Stoic yet skeptical, a voice of reason for Byakuya’s sillier outbursts.

I wouldn’t be surprised if the shield was made with CGI, tbh.

Byakuya’s humour here is betraying the emotional capacity of the scene…it’s gone from “100% tear-inducing” to “confusing”.

Please sing Tsubasa wo Kudasai, Lillian…*crosses fingers*

I didn’t get what I wanted, but oh well. This song is good too. (I wouldn’t be surprised if most of the record player was CGI too. It’s good CGI for sure.)

LOL, Puyo Puyo! Even Sherlock Holmes! Dragon Ball, Nintendo Switch, VR, Saiyuki! It’s like a treasure trove of references!

Normally the s2 announcement comes after the credits, so I was thrown for a loop when it was announced before the ED…anyways, this is the end of the s1 coverage. See you for s2!

BnHA 72

[no notes, sorry!]

Iruma-kun 11

Robin looks like Iruma…(this vaguely annoys me.)

I noticed Keroli (sp?) is in the back left, alone…that’s kinda sad.

Sabro is hella tall…even taller than Azz-kun, and that says something.

Ah…I love Eggie-sensei. He’s so funny!

Really? I thought Sullivan wrote them (the rules).

I wanna see an episode where Eggie-sensei can’t turn into his fuzzy form and has to do familiar activities with Iruma. That, or an episode where Eggie-sensei has some human parts and some familiar ones (although that would scare some little kids, I think…)

What a Machiavellian mindset Eggie-sensei has!

Iruma’s got wine, people! Underage drinking is a no-no! (partially joking)

Good on ya, Clara! Go kick those girls to the kerb!

The butterflies are so beautiful in this show!

So basically school clubs.

Hmm…it’s almost a Fordist approach. I mean, “freeing yourself up to do other things” is basically the entire ethos of that.

NGL 10

I was reading JJBA: DiU today and Colt seriously looks like a Jojo’s character…

“Your face is just like…”

N-No way! You mean, the Victor Mary’s wanted to see all along…is the other gunhead…?! Geesh, what a plot twist!

Stars Align 10

“We all play to win.” – That’s very Maki of you, Maki.

Shinjo/Oshimi???? That must be Ryoma…! By the way, what’s up with these Itsuse twins…?

Who’s Hatanooka? Update: That’s the team with Joy in it…and those fangirls who busted Mitsue up.

F*** it…Arashi, I wanna pummel you someday.

LOL, you can sell your temmates out with chanpuru, huh, Arashi?

Did Maki suggest something subliminally…?

*Maki and Toma run around* - LOL, this play is completely unorthodox, haha. I can tell even if I’m no expert.

Shinchou Yuusha 10

We’re back after another week’s break…

Come to think of it, how do fantasy worlds have concepts of “hours”?

LOL, how convenient it was that there just happened to be a dude needing healing walking past! (partially sarcastic, partially meaning it since the circumstances foreshadowed it)

“Talent”, eh? *stares at the camera, which is showing Rista’s boobs, with disapproval*

The Demon Spirit Orb is basically a monster cell from OPM 2, isn’t it…?

If Seiya came from our world…then I’m sorry, Wolks, but whoever told you is completely and utterly wrong. *gestures at all the conflicts around the world, including political turmoil*

“Are you calling…”  

No Guns Life 11

Second-last ep!

Oh great…another yandere?(I read JJBA: DiU hardcover vol. 2 yesterday, so I’m still thinking about Yukako Yamagishi…)

There’s a convertible in the OP, though…I wonder if that will come into play later. Update: Even if it does come into play in the future, it doesn’t happen in ths cour.

Stars Align 11

It was like Joy was showing off to the camera…LOL.

Apparently, Joy’s name is a weird reading for yorokobi (happiness).

This feels like a final episode…

Hmm. I thought Yonex sponsored this. Turns out that’s a parody logo after all (or at least, here it’s a parody).

One of the Itsuse bros looks exactly like Maki, so it’s confusing…

I’m still confused as to why Shijo Minami’s shirts say nantei on them. The minami might be nan in another way of reading it, but…the shi can only be read kokorozashi otherwise and while the jou can be read many, many ways, tei isn’t one of them.

Ume = plum blossom, so that purple-pink colour really suits them.

BnHA 73

Eri’s name means, literally, “to break reason”.

This scene with the stars and the dancefloor…that’s new.

Iruma-kun 12

Sometims you forget this dork *points at Azz* is more powerful than Iruma and Clara…

You can see Clara and Iruma in the shot of Azz-kun.

The reason why I like calling Kalego “Eggie-sensei” is because he doesn’t like it! 

I love how the narrator is even aware it’s been mentioned several times Iruma can’t decline requests.

New Magic is basically science…?

Oh, it would be hilarious if this character Iruma just bumped into and he (Iruma) would be in a Battler together…but I’ve read spoilers, so I know what Iruma will join…

Is this some kind of allegory for technology…?! *eyes sparkle* Yes, I want in! Iruma! Join this club!

Even this demon’s clip is a book! Amazing!

Clara! She dab! In a pot!

Come to think of it, in the basic premise, Iruma-kun (the show) is Kenja no Mago, right? The Wise Man’s Grandson…sort of.

Shinchou Yuusha 11

Almost at the end…I’ll sorely miss this show.

Is Tiana some former version of Rista…?

How old is Seiya again…? Update: Apparently he’s 17…and if he’s the same age as he used to be in this flashback, then…kinda squicky, no?

Stars Align 12 (FINAL)

I heard this show dropped the ball and that Nao’s mother got a rant, but otherwise I don’t quite know what happens here…so let’s finish what we started. Update: Nao’s mother’s rant was in a previous episode.

Oh hey! It’s that running thing Nao and Taiyo were doing…I think. (I don’t think I’ve grasped everyone’s names, even over 12 eps, so I had to check Taiyo’s name up.)

Oh, these gremlins…*sighs happily but also exasperatedly* No wonder this show took out a top 10 position for my 2019 list.

I’m worried now…there’s always a last minute thing to ruin an episode on this show.

I always thought Ryoma’s hair was pretty nice…(small LOL). That’s just my bias for bishonen showing though.

I’m…scared now…Maki’s dad must’ve come back and the red in the sky really sold that moment…

Maki…no!!!!!!!! Aw, f***, that’s the final seconds…geesh, way to end the series. If this were a 2 cour, I’d definitely watch the next one, but since I heard through ANN that this is all we have so far, really, the only thing I can do for a passion project is hope another cour gets funded and (maybe) purchase what I can to help out. Well, that’s it, folks, skedaddle out of here until next time.

No Guns Life 12 (FINAL)

This pendant reminds me of the mana compass I saw in Fate/Zero yesterday.

I bet Danny planted those footprints…or something like that. Update: Yup, he did.

Come to think of it, is Juzo still missing his arm from last time…?

“You weren’t my client, little lady.” – There’s one of two possible options here, I think: 1) the hands guy was or 2) Danny was.

I wonder, will the hand Extended ever become his (Juzo’s) left hand? Or will he get an Extension for it?

Wow, second huge end-of-season cliffhanger! Juzo got a new buddy, it seems…anyway, see you in spring!

Cautious Hero 12 (FINAL)

If the Valkyryja (sp?) isn’t magic…what is it???

That one guy lying on the side of the fountain, looking all drunk��LOL.

Geez, you make me wanna cry, show!!!

Even the alarm clock is dejected…geez…

This is…the best conclusion of the fall season in that Seiya defeated the Demon King and the story wrapped up properly, but the worst in that Seiya died. No one died in Stars Align, even if they failed a tonne! So…I dunno. I guess it should be happy it ended optimistically…anyways, enough of my moping. See you next time.

BnHA 74

Shin Nemoto = “the truth of the origin of the sound”, if you stuck the particle no between each character.

Tintin got scary, LOL.

Lemillion, making “no capes” go out of fashion again (LOL).

Wow, talk about a clip show…! This is really one.

Check the end of the episode, don’t forget to watch the post-credits segments, people.

[victoriadevereaux]

BAD MOMS 2

Time: idk we’ll say today for fun

Place: The Barn

People: Victoria, Aurora, Brigid, Derrick

Summary: Brigid lures Aurora into the barn where she tries to force Victoria into a brutal training exercise. Victoria is absolutely not having that, and goes ham on brigid for hurting Aurora. Also there’s an I love her but you didn’t hear that from me. 

Notes: No actual physical victoria/brigid abuse this time but I mean it’s brigid so it’s fucked up

BRIGID: Brigid prided herself on being a ruthless woman -- persistent, but smart enough to know when stubbornness would no longer serve. Willing to take the most direct path from where she stood to where she needed to be. Victoria needed to learn control, so Brigid taught it to her, with the might of her fist and her magic, sparing no expense for the most important lesson she could ever impart on her hybrid offspring. But when that pebble hit her waterlogged chalk mark, Brigid knew her methods were no longer working. Physical pain would not push her daughter past the point of losing control. But when the frazzled blonde head of Aurora Black rushed out of the Manor and into the courtyard to rescue her twitching, downed fiancee, inspiration struck. Victoria lost control in the most dangerous of ways when David was taken from them at the attack. Perhaps Victoria had learned the lesson to blocking out physical pain after two decades; perhaps emotional pain was the trigger Brigid needed to press next. She watched; she waited. Her daughter's concern when Aurora Black went 'missing' under Aemilia's supervision. The way she moved her fiancee into her own room after the fact. The smug look on Aurora Black's face not long after the full moon. Victoria had a weakness. On a cool, but sunny day, Brigid prepared herself, gathered her will and her plan and made her rounds about the Manor to find one Aurora Black. She pasted a polite smile on her cheeks. "Miss Black. It's a fine day and there are some things we should discuss. Would you mind taking a walk with me?"

AURORA: She's been having an overall good morning, done a round of her usual: shower, morning tea, breakfast. Now she's sitting in the living room, reading (she's been doing a lot of reading nowadays), while Victoria was off training like she did almost every morning. Its eerily quiet in the manor, which she assumes means most of the wolves have been keeping themselves in check lately and with no arguments in her pocket in the last 72 hours, she feels as though she can finally breathe. Or maybe it has something to do with her rapidly growing feelings for Victoria. Either way, she's still surprised, when Brigid finds her, and with a smile on her face nonetheless. It makes her instantly wary, especially after their last conversation, but she's stuck within a wall and a hard place -- she couldn't say no to her, as a coven leader and her soon to be mother-in-law. She puts her book down, trying her best to offer Brigid a smile in return. No one could ever put Aurora on edge more than Brigid Devereaux. "--- Sure. Of course. What do we need to discuss?"

BRIGID: The tight smile she receives makes Brigid's only curl higher. "I was hoping to discuss things between you and Victoria. Your coming nuptials. Family matters. Once we're little more private, of course. Walk with me?" Turning on her heel and heading toward the door, she gives Aurora little option but to follow or be left behind.

AURORA: She scurries towards Brigid the second she turns towards the door, not wanting to be left behind. The last thing she needed was for Brigid Devereaux to consider her an unlikely match for Victoria after everything they worked towards. She has to pick up her pace, but finally, falls in line with her as they walk outside. "My mother has yet to set a date for the wedding. But I am more than willing to go through with the arrangement Madam Devereaux. I had been hesitant at first but I've come to... Care about your daughter and I think we make a solid alliance together. At least, as far as I can tell".

BRIGID: "I'm quite aware of that, Miss Black," Brigid replies, leading the way down the path toward the old barn. "In fact, the alliance between you and my daughter is exactly what I was hoping to discuss." Her smile stays with the truth of her words. "You see, I believe Victoria has come to care about you a great deal, as well. In a way we do not tend to openly recognize in our family, but one that I see in her quite plainly all the same. Would you concur, Miss Black --- Aurora?"

AURORA: There's something about Brigid's question that makes her wary, but she's still inclined to answer it. She's still unsure where they're headed, but she recognizes the path they're on; Aurora draws some distance between them, just a cautious step to the side, a subtle flight response, but not enough to make her want to bolt. "Y-Yes?" It sounds like a question, she stutters over the word. "I care about her too. Isn't that what our union was supposed to be about? What good is it for if there's no loyalty anywhere?"

BRIGID: "I'm not asking to scold you for feeling for her," Brigid says, keeping her steps even as Aurora works smoothly to increase their distance. She doesn't seek to follow her. "In fact, I'm counting on them." She doesn't hesitate. The heel of her palm connects hard with the soft indent at Aurora's temple. As soon as the younger witch stumbles, Brigid's magic reaches out hot and fast to catch her, bind her limbs, support her weight as she drags the blonde Black the last few feet to the barn's open, waiting door. Brigid drops the girl graceless at the first set of shackles. Working quick, she secures the heavy iron over her fists first, then her ankles. As she stands and straightens her clothes, she runs her fingers over a vial of ash sitting waiting in her pocket. "Victoria will be joining us soon," she says, uncaring if the half-unconscious Aurora can actually hear her. "Then we will see how deeply her weakness truly runs."February 16, 202

VICTORIA: She'd gotten her mother's message, to meet in the barn. Victoria assumed there'd be some kind of training or perhaps a wolf to be punished that her mother needed help with. She didn't ask many questions. Just headed there at the proper time, once her training was finished and things were settled. Stepping inside the barn, a feeling rose in Victoria's gut, something sinking and odd and off centered. She turned, to see her mother and behind her Aurora, disoriented and chained, close to the wall she sat by in the strong, wolf shackles. "Aurora?" Victoria's eyes went wide and she looked from her fiancee to her mother. "Mom, what's --  Why is she in here?"

BRIGID: "She's here to help with your training," Brigid says simply, magic prickling at her fingertips as she reaches into her pocket to withdraw a small burlap sachet of dried herbs. "Let's make sure she's ready to join us, hmm?" Holding the sachet under Aurora's nose, Brigid's fist crumples, crushing the pungent herbs under the friction of her palm to wake the younger woman.

AURORA: It startled her awake, the strong smell of herbs Aurora thinks she’s familiar with, and she gasps as she returns from her forced sleep. She’s met with a strange sight; her fiancé across from her, looking perplexed, Brigid hovering close, and shackles around her wrists, that she attempts to pull unsuccessfully. “Victoria?” She groans. “What is happening?” It occurs to her that she’s trap, and that this can’t be good, so this time she tries magic to let her out of her shackles, and when nothing happens and she thrashes harder against the chains, she notices the ring around her on the ground. Ash. “What the hell is wrong with you? Let me go!”

BRIGID: She waits while the blonde realizes her predicament, while her daughter watches and Aurora makes demands. Once she is finished, Brigid crosses the room the a low wooden shelf, retrieves a piece of chalk, leather gloves and a small glass vial. She draws an X the size of a walnut on the barn's thick, worn stone wall before she returns to Aurora's side, donning the gloves and unstoppering the bottle. "I believe you know the rules," she tells her daughter. "There is a scarf on the shelf behind you. Stand against the opposite wall and hit the target." She looks down at Aurora, considers her for a moment before she says, "hold out your hand, Miss Black. You will be Victoria's motivation."

VICTORIA: Victoria's eyes travel fast, from her barely conscious girlfriend to her mother. She's watching, almost frozen. Her whole body preparing for fight when Aurora wakes up in shock and panic, furious and terrified. "Mom..." At first she starts as though she intends to be reasonable, but then she steps forward, closer to her mother and Aurora like she might get between them. Victoria doesn't even look toward the shelf or the blindfold or the game. "Get away from her." A fireball ignites in her hand. "Mom, I'm not doing this."(edited)

BRIGID: Brigid shakes her head in disappointment as fire swirls over Victoria's palm. "Truly, Victoria? You lose your control this easily?" Her boot flattens on the chain at Aurora's wrist, pinning it tight. With one gloved hand, she pulls her sleeve back and grips her arm tight at elbow. With the other, she tips the glass bottle at a slight angle, letting a slow drip of himalayan salt water drip from the opening. Drip. Drip. Drip. The drops track down Aurora's forearm as Brigid keeps her gaze on her daughter. "Begin, Victoria."

AURORA: She can tell what's about to happen. Its a test, just like the one Brigid had put Victoria up to in the forest the day she had found her not far from the property, except this time, Brigid takes it a step further by putting her in the line of fire. She's stronger, stronger than Aurora and without her magic, she can't push her away when she pins her wrist between her fingers. She tries to jerk away. "What are you doing?" And she knows, immediately when she sees the water drip from the water and onto her skin. "Victoria don--". The burn is like a hot iron cast against her arm, leaving a scarce trail of vapor as it leaves her skin aching. Aurora's breath catches in her throat and her fingers twitch from the pain. She tries to hold it in, for Victoria's sake, but the screech comes out through her teeth.

VICTORIA: "Mom, no! " It comes out fast, sharp, entirely sudden and loud and completely not in the control Brigid wants. Victoria doesn't hesitate either. She doesn't begin. She doesn't play along. She hears the pained sound Aurora makes and releases the fireball she holds without a second of further hesitation, aimed square for Brigid's chest. "I said get away from her."

BRIGID: Releasing the vial from her grip, Brigid brings her palms up, swiping fast and hard to the side to dismiss her daughter's fierce fireball. Disappointment and fury war in the boiling rumble of her bloodstream, her snarl turned toward Victoria. "How dare you ----- " With one foot swiping at the ash, her magic reaches out, slipping into the circle before Aurora has a chance to reach out. With the heat of her anger, she sends a strong shockwave along Aurora's limbs, a prolonged shock of the jolts she'd sent Victoria before, and watches as the helpless blonde that her daughter has come to care for so much, has become so weak over, twitches and writhes where she's bound.

VICTORIA: Neither she or her mother could have known that that was going to be Brigid's last chance. But the moment that Victoria sees her mother's magic shock Aurora, her whole body spirals into a fury. Faster than before, harder than before. The rhythms of the universe in complete discord instead of her usual balance with them. It's messy, when she throws a small shock her own at her mother, and then another ball of fire, clearing the distance between them in seconds before she takes Brigid by the shoulders and all but throws her to the ground, separating the magical grip she has on Aurora and landing on top of her in one motion, not remotely fluid or graceful but animal, furious, filled with fire and anger that comes from the darkest parts of Victoria's eyes. She can only remember being this mad one other time and even then it's a blur. It's a blur now. A knee lands in Brigid's ribs, Victoria hits her, hard in the face, landing her other elbow against Brigid's throat. "How dare I?" It barely sounds like her voice. "How dare you. She's my fiancee. She's innocent she's an original witch, She's mine -- " Victoria doesn't know what she was going to say but all she can feel is rage and that boils over, guttural and furious. She holds her arm against her mother's throat even harder, hits her again, but this time with magic in her fist. "Of course I'm weak. Of course I"m out of control. I've always been out of control! That's why you hate me so much, isn't it?" Everything pours out of her and Victoria can't even see anymore. She grabs Brigid by her shoulders, slams the back of her against the floor again. "I'm not you. I'm never going to be you and I'm -- I never want to be you. Because she's -- I love her. And you're a monster!"

DERRICK: Its a strange thing, to feel something when the witch you're bonded to does; its never the same. Sadness doesn't translate to sadness, excitement doesn't translate to excitement, and fury certainly doesn't either. Its something, a feeling of dread, that something is wrong. She'd told him not to intervene; when she was with her mother he didn't have to step in, but there's something different about this, something that makes him stand from his outpost, leaving another one of the wolves in charge. He can't help it, he doesn't even know where Victoria is but suddenly he's running straight towards the barn, faster, and faster, and faster -- he breaks the branches as he swiftly makes his way through. They break his skin but not enough to hurt. Until he's there, until he swings the barn doors open as hard as he can and he sees it. Aurora Black motionless against the chains, looking like she's trying to gasp for air, and Victoria carrying animalistic fury, on top of her mother. I love her and you're a monster! It takes him a second to understand what had just happened. "Victoria!" It might be the first time he's used her name without a title in front of Brigid Devereaux, but there's no time to apologize. "Stop, stop! You're going to kill her!" That's when he grabs her by the waist, pulls Victoria off her mother with all his strength, keeping a steady grip on her. It would take an inhuman amount of strength to get out of it. Derrick pulls her back, drags her until he creates safe distance between them. He watches Aurora look up from the veil of her hair, her body trembles; he thinks she's crying, but he can't tell from this distance. "What the hell is going on here?"

BRIGID: Her face throbs. Her neck feels pinched, too tight, and her chest burns for air. She'd swear on her death bed that she had seen it, that hint of gold, that's wolf's touch in her daughter's eyes and when Brigid is able to push herself up to sitting, her lungs gasping to catch a breath, she isn't able to hide the fact that her fingers are trembling. "----Get them both to the house," she manages, through her words are harsh, each vibration rasping over the chords in her throat. She tries to clear it, almost winces, swallows instead and tastes the blood pooling in her cheek spread thick and heavy over the back of her tongue. "No one sees them," she adds, forcing out the words. "Now."

DERRICK: "Yes ma'am". He has no choice but to follow Brigid's orders; he had considered the way his loyalty would shift, the way it would be molded and changed, how Brigid Devereaux is the one mangled and beaten and all he wonders is if Victoria's okay. But he doesn't say anything, instead, he slowly lets go of Victoria, and takes a careful step towards Aurora, still in chains. Derrick looks back to make sure Victoria won't make further moves to hurt her mother, and once convinced he won't have to stop another attempted murder, he brushes the circle of ash around Aurora aside, noticing the part Brigid must have opened to make Aurora collapse like this. He undoes the shackles and Aurora's knees buckle, falling on the ground on her knees. Derrick's arms are around her when Aurora's knees give in. She tries to move when he sweeps her off the ground, surely searching for Victoria. He sees the way her eyes move, as if she's expecting Victoria to be the one to carry her, but when she grips his shirt (with barely enough strength to close her fingertips around it), he walks straight towards her. Aurora lets her arm go limp and he notices she's reaching out for Victoria once he's standing in front of her. He presses his lips together and he thinks the look he gives her is enough of a tell, so he nods towards the barn door.

[aster-wastaken]

404

Well look what I managed to find through Wikipedia! The old 404 short story Jack Heath wrote to replace the 404 error page.

It can be accessed here: https://web.archive.org/web/20111003161346/http://jackheath.com.au/404

Possibly here: http://jackheath.com.au/404

But definitely here:

404                                    

The requested URL was not found on this server.

'What's a 404 error?' Agent Nine asked, staring at Six's computer screen.

'It's bad,' Six replied. 'It means Lilam gave us the wrong address.'

And we've got less than 15 minutes to find the right one, he thought, looking at his watch.

'I'll try again,' Nine said, hands hovering over the keyboard.

'Don't,' Six advised. 'We're lucky he didn't send us into a trap, like a URL that would send out the detonation signal.'

He pulled out his phone and dialled Kyntak's number. "Kyntak, have you secured the bomb?"

'Yeah, I found it.' Kyntak's voice was muffled by engine noise - he was driving somewhere. 'It was in a shopping centre four kliks from the Deck. Any luck with the disarm code?'

'Negative,' Six said. 'Liamm lied to buy himself some time. What's it look like? Can you defuse it?'

'Not a chance,' Kyntak said. 'Eleven wires, left to right: yellow, blue, yellow, green, two red, blue, three green, and one black. Not a standard configuration. And each wire is encased at both ends in a 22cm iron cube, rigged to blow if you try to open it. Without the remote disarm code, only one guy can disarm this. The guy who built it.'

Lilam, Six thought. No chance. He'd never tell anyone how to dismantle one of his bombs. Six shoved open the office door and walked into the corridor. 'Can you take it somewhere where it won't hurt anybody?'

'ChaoSonic officials have been evacuated out of the area surrounding the shopping centre. Ten klik radius.'

Six gritted his teeth. 'Which means, ChaoSonic has established a perimeter.'

'Right,' Kyntak said. 'They don't want the bomb to leave the area they've already evacuated, or it could hurt someone they actually give a crap about. Someone other than us, and the sixty or seventy thousand people still in the hot zone.'

'And there's nowhere in that zone we could have a safe detonation?'

'Are you kidding? There are people everywhere, Six. It's pandemonium out here.'

'Can you seal it in something?' Six asked, getting desparate. 'Something that could contain the explosion?'

'The core is made of cyclotrimethylene trinitramine, usually called RDX. The blast will penetrate steel of any thickness up to three metres. I'm open to suggestions.'

Six closed his eyes. Can't disarm it, can't contain it, can't get rid of it, can't let it explode. There seemed to be no way out.

He opened his eyes. 'You're mobile, right?'

'I've got a car, yeah. But I can't get past the roadblocks.'

'You don't have to,' Six said. 'I've got an idea.' He pushed the button for the lift.

It was just before 2 pm, so cell block 72-C was brightly lit. The lighting conditions always mimicked those outside, with a gradually building "sunrise" and a slow, dimming "sunset". This was so the prisoners didn't become disoriented and lose track of time.

Years ago, each cell wall had been adorned with its own clock. But the clocks were frequently smashed by some of the inmates. Other prisoners became hypnotised by them, watching the seconds click away instead of eating or sleeping. And still others complained that the ticking was keeping them awake at night, even though the clocks were completely silent.

Apparently the inmates were willing to measure their imprisonment in days - but seeing each individual second of their lives disappear was too much for them.

The prisoners talked to Agent Six as he walked down the corridor, some whispering, some shouting. He didn't listen. Only six minutes until the bomb went off.

The interrogation room was at the end of the hall, behind a giant chrome door with a small keypad. There was a steel box on the floor. This was where Six was supposed to dump probited items - any phones or radios, anything sharp that could be used as a weapon, anything magnetic or electrical that could be used to hack the electronic locking system. But today there wasn't time. Six punched in the combination, and the door slid aside.

The man inside was chained to a metal chair by both wrists and both ankles. A clamp around his neck tethered him to the wall, to stop him from moving the chair too far. Six walked in, put his briefcase down on the table, and shut the door behind him. It locked itself with a muffled clank.

'If it isn't my teenage arresting officer,' Lilam said. His lips slid back, revealing yellowed teeth. 'Didn't expect to see you again so soon, Agent Six of Hearts.'

'The URL you gave us didn't work,' Six said. '404 error. You're going to give me the real one immediately, or I promise you, you'll wish you had. Very soon.'

Lilam eyed Six's briefcase. 'What've you got there? Money, to buy me off? A pardon agreement, perhaps?'

'Something that'll make you talk,' Six said, 'if you won't do it willingly. You have fifteen seconds.'

Lilam's smile never wavered. 'Since you took my watch away, I've been sitting here counting seconds,' he said. 'I'm very good at it. Eight thousand, two hundred and sixteen have passed so far. That's almost two hours and seventeen minutes.'

Six said nothing.

'That means there's less than five minutes before my magnificent bomb goes off,' Lilam said. 'Whatever you have in that briefcase, whether it's knives or needles or whips or really sharp rocks, I think I can withstand it for five minutes. Don't you?'

Six said nothing.

'You know what they sometimes call RDX?' Lilam said. 'They call it "cyclonite". That's because - '

'Time's up,' Six said. He drew a pair of nail scissors from his pocket, and placed them on the table next to the briefcase.

Lilam raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Then Six cracked open the briefcase, and stepped aside.

Lilam craned his neck to see.

His jaw fell open.

Inside the case there was a iron cube, with eleven wires poking out of it. The timer clipped to the face read 04:13. Then 04:12. Then 04:11.

I hope I'm not making a mistake, Six thought.

All the colour had washed out of Lilam's skin. 'What the hell is this?'

'Your bomb, I hope,' Six said. 'Otherwise there are two worthless, deluded psychopaths planting RDX bombs in the bathrooms of shopping centres.'

'Why did you bring it here?' Lilam demanded.

'So you could defuse it,' Six said, pointing at the nail clippers. 'I figured the only life you cared about was your own, therefore this was the best way to get the job done.'

'The whole building will blow! All your own agents will die!'

'All the agents have been evacuuated,' Six said. 'If that bomb goes off, the casualties will be you, me, the other prisoners in the cells, and anyone who happens to be on the street above our heads.' He shrugged. 'Not optimal, but better than a detonation in a shopping centre.'

'I'll kill you,' Liam snarled.

'Technically, yes,' Six said, 'if the bomb goes off. But I don't think it will. I think you're going to do what I want.'

Lilam stared at him for a long time. Then he said, 'No. I won't do a thing to help you.'

'I agree. You'll do it to help yourself.'

'You're making a mistake,' Lilam said. 'You're going to die here.'

'Fine,' Six said. He leaned against the wall. 'I'm ready. Are you?'

The timer read 02:51.

The timer read 02:50.

The timer read 02:49.

Six could see beads of sweat growing on Lilam's brow. His eyes were fixed on the timer, like all those inmates with the clocks in their rooms.

The timer read 02:37.

The timer read 02:36.

Lilam screamed and smashed his forearms against his chair, rattling his chains. He heaved his torso forward, pulling the clamp against his throat and making a roadmap of veins stand out on his forehead.

'Every second you spend doing that is a second you'll never get back,' Six said. 'And you haven't got many to waste.'

Lilam sat back, breathing heavily.

'134 seconds to live,' Six said. 'What would you like to do with them?'

He saw Lilam's eyes flick to the nail-scissors, and back to the bomb.

'Or, you could give me the URL that disarms it,' Six said. 'Then you'd have lots of time. But it's up to you.'

Lilam clenched his fists until his knuckles went white. Then he looked at Six, and said, 'This bomb can't be disarmed. Not after the countdown reaches fifteen minutes.'

He's lying, Six thought. 'Is that so?'

'Yes,' Lilam said. 'You'll have to get it out of here, somewhere where it won't hurt anyone.'

'I don't think so,' Six said. 'I like it right where it is.'

'We'll both die!' Lilam howled.

'Yes.' Six frowned. 'I wonder how I'll spend my last two minutes and five seconds.'

Then he turned and looked at Lilam. 'Maybe I'll break your arm.'

Lilam's eyes widened.

'I'm just wondering what you'd look like with a third elbow, that's all,' Six said. 'You could probably still defuse this one-handed if you had a change of heart. Would you like the break above, or below your real elbow?'

'You'd never go that far,' Lilam said.

'You sure?' Six asked. 'I wouldn't feel bad about it - it's nothing compared to the agony felt by the families of your dead victims, or the pain of the amputees who survived the disasters that you created.'

Lilam said nothing.

The counter read 01:40.

This isn't working, Six thought. He's scared, but not scared enough to defuse the bomb.

Six felt sick at what he was about to do, but he kept his face completely blank. Lives are at stake, he thought. I need to go further.

Six picked up the nail scissors and stared at them thoughtfully.

'It seems a shame to waste these,' he said.

Lilam shrunk back in his chair, more afraid of Six than he had been before.

'I wonder if you could still defuse the bomb with one eye?' Six wondered aloud. 'That is, assuming you have a change of heart after I half-blind you with these.'

A barely audible murmur escaped Lilam's lips. 'No.'

'Would you like to choose which eye?' Six asked.

'No,' Lilam said again.

Six walked around behind him, twirling the scissors on one finger. He put one hand on the top of Lilam's head. 'You sure? I'd want to choose.'

'No, don't do it!' Lilam screamed.

Six moved quickly, violently. Lilam thrashed around in his seat. But Six was only unlocking the clamp on Lilam's throat and the chains on his wrists. The Six put the nail scissors back down on the table, within Lilam's reach.

'If that countdown is still going by the time I get back,' he said, 'I'm going to use the remaining time to cripple you with those scissors. Got it?'

Lilam lunged at Six, teeth first. His ankles were still chained to the chair - maybe he figured he could incapacitate Six and take the key off his body. But Six ducked aside, twisted round and punched him square in the centre of his abdomen. Lilam doubled over. Six pushed him back down into the chair. Lilam was terrified, and in pain, but he didn't appear winded. That was good - Six wasn't sure if Lilam could defuse the bomb if he couldn't breathe.

Six punched in the code on the pad beside the door, careful not to let Lilam see. He walked out, and slid the door closed. Then he sprinted back up the hall and out of the cell block 72-C, towards the security station. He needed to watch the camera feed from the interrogation room.

When he got there, he saw that Lilam hadn't picked up the scissors yet. Six squinted as the grainy light from the television poured over him. Lilam was sitting with his palms flat on the table, on either side of the open briefcase.

Six's heart pounded in his chest. Come on, come on! he thought. Do it. If that bomb goes off . . .

Lilam touched the iron cube - a gentle, stroking motion. Like it was a beloved pet he had to put down. Six couldn't see the countdown, but it was still running in his head. Fifty seconds.

Lilam picked up the scissors. He hesitated.

Six held his breath.

Liam leaned forward, and snipped through the black wire. Then the leftmost green wire. Then, in quick succession, the yellow wire on the right, and the second green from the right. Then he stopped.

Six waited.

Lilam dropped the scissors. He tried to push himself away from the table. As his head turned, Six saw an expression of horror on his face.

The countdown hadn't stopped. Lilam had tried to defuse the bomb, and failed.

The counter hadn't stopped because Six hadn't actually hooked it up to anything. He had barely had time to take down Kyntak's description of the real bomb and find enough scrap metal to make a convincing duplicate, let alone make a working timer as well.

Six ignored Lilam's frenzied thrashing on the screen. The psychopath would believe he was going to die until the counter hit zero, but Six didn't care much. He snapped open his phone. It read no reception.

He ran out of the security station and tried again. The corridor was deserted - the Deck hadn't really been evacuaated, but most of the agents were outside dealing with the panicked crowds.

The call connected. 'Kyntak?'

'No hurry, Six,' Kytank said. 'I'm just clinging to the top of a communications tower with a bomb strapped to my back. I could sit here all day, if it weren't for this darn timer telling me I only have twenty seconds to live.'

'Shut up and listen to me,' Six hissed. 'Wires numbered left to right, cut them in this order. Eleven, black. Four, green. Three, yellow. Nine, green. Repeat that back to me.'

Nothing but dead air on the line. Twelve seconds to go.

'Kyntak!' Six repeated, starting to panic. 'Repeat the instructions!'

'Shut up, Six, I'm doing it!' Kyntak said.

Six heard three clicks as Kyntak cut three wires. 'Nine, green,' Six said again. Five seconds. 'Nine green!'

And then there was a beep as the call was disconnected. Six's phone was no longer recieving any data from Kyntak's handset.

No, Six thought. He felt dizzy. No, no, no!

Then the phone rang. Six jammed it to his ear and demanded, 'Kyntak?'

'Sorry about that,' Kyntak said. 'Part of the communication tower came off in my hand, and I had to put it back. The whole network was probably down for a second.'

A sigh of relief exploded out of Six, and he leaned against the wall. 'You idiot! You scared the crap out of me.'

'Out of you? I was the one who had to climb the tower with the bomb!'

Six started walking back to the interrogation room. 'You don't even want to know what I had to threaten to do to Lilam to get him to defuse the dummy.'

Six could hear the skepticism in Kyntak's voice. 'You didn't say the "third elbow" thing, did you?'

'No,' Six lied. 'I had a whole routine involving nail clippers.' He pushed open the door to the cell block.

'Nail clippers? I'm lucky to be alive.'

'Yes,' Six said as he approached the interrogation room door. 'You are. So a bit of gratitude might not go astray.'

He punched in the code and slid open the door. Then he froze.

Lilam was gone.

The blades of the scissors, no longer attached to each other, were twisted into the lock of one of the ankle chains. The iron cube was now wired to the battery of the counter, making it an electromagnet. It was sitting under the electronic door lock.

Lilam was loose again.

'Kyntak?' Six said. 'Get back to the car. We've still got a bomber to catch.'

[theheartofpenelope]

SIMPLE THINGS - Chapter five

Chapter five - excerpt : Granted, the subsequent sexual encounter might have been quite imaginary, it dìd prove to Charlotte she was still alive inside. It reminded her of her youth, her possibilities and – let’s be honest - her needs. And upon returning home Charlotte had deemed herself finally ready to gently ease herself back into the dating game, much to her best friend Elisabeth’s joy. The ‘Lizzie’ to her ‘Charlie’. Ever understanding, ever supportive, but ever impatient as well.

Tag list: @winterisakiller, @devikafernando, @scorpionchild81, @messy-insomniac-bookgirl, @smutsausage, @hiddlesbitch1 @noplacelikehome77 @wolfsmom1 @meh1217 @dina-bln @lilaeye39 @tinchentitri @fairlightswiftly @nonsensicalobsessions @wolfsmom1

Author’s Notes/Warnings: tags will follow later on -also : the lay-out of the text-conversation is so much cleaner on AO3. But here on Tumblr it’s a bit of a mess as those specific html-outlining- inserts don’t work *perfectionistic groan* So it’s not looking ‘perfect’ here on Tumblr, I had to manually try to outline it - but I did the best I could... Anyway thank you in advance for feedback - would love to know what you think…

Also on AO3 through this link Bonus: click here for the pinterest moodboard (always updated)

Chapter five Amsterdam, the Netherlands

1.

Amsterdam did not hold many secrets for Charlotte anymore. She had visited the scenic city many times before and so the site had somehow become a familiarity to her. She would never have realised that if Tom hadn’t requested her to send him some pictures of the Netherlands’ capital.

Yes. Tom.

His first message came as quite a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. And Charlotte gladly obliged to the kind wish of this man who had kept his word and sent her some not-so-touristy addresses she ought to visit while in Hamburg and Berlin - her next destinations.

Charlotte’s phone shots mostly consisted of her favourite sights such as the bridges over the breath-taking canals, boats, strings of light bulbs lighting up pop-up summer bars in the park and the beautiful restored architecture that took her breath away as if it were the first time she’d laid eyes upon it. Thank you Tom for reminding me of this.

The Convention didn’t take up much of her time for a change. Charlotte gladly took the opportunity to stop by the floating flower market for some fresh flowers, and browse through one of her favourite flea markets where she picked up a few books before boarding the intercity train home later that afternoon.

With her new acquisitions all packed up, Charlotte strolled down to the Central Station. Upon entering the building, that felt more like the ‘arrivals and departures’- scene at any given airport, she walked passed some colourful shops. She hopped in one to get herself a refreshing drink for the ride home and upon queueing at the cash register, her eyes scanned over the headlines of the international press that was presented there. One specific title in big bold letters called out to her. A tabloid read out in bold red print : ‘Tom Hiddleston spotted with mystery woman’.

Charlotte laughed a little louder than planned as she detected the picture showcased in fact his publicist’s intern. She shook her head in amusement; was this the man she was currently sending touristy pictures to? Felt a bit silly really…

Charlotte couldn’t deny that over the start of the summer her life had somehow taken an unexpected and bizarre turn. While her professional life had continued to overshadow her private life, she did seem to have found a somewhat manageable and unique balance between the two.

In the sense that she would combine her professional obligations at conferences abroad with some extra me-time. She would try to extend her stay as far as time or reason allowed, so she could go and explore the cities and come to herself before starting all over again somewhere else.

In her head her plan seemed picture perfect, in reality she came to realise she really ought to prepare these kinds of visits just a little bit more. Tom’s tips came in more than handy here… She caught her lips curving into a smile.

Stop it! Silly girl...

Up until now Charlotte had managed to keep her head on straight, regardless of her hectic schedule. She was tired but ambitious, worn-out at times but always remained curious and anxious for what came next. And then came London... the visit that shook her up a bit. It felt as if the carpet had suddenly been pulled out from under her feet. Metaphorically she’d stumbled at first, taken quite the fall nevertheless but then got up again, feeling quite unsure and apprehensive. It had been a dizzying 72 hours, but equally exhilarating nonetheless.

Granted, the subsequent sexual encounter might have been quite imaginary, it dìd prove to Charlotte she was still alive inside. It reminded her of her youth, her possibilities and – let’s be honest - her needs. And upon returning home Charlotte had deemed herself finally ready to gently ease herself back into the dating game, much to her best friend Elisabeth’s joy. The ‘Lizzie’ to her ‘Charlie’. Ever understanding, ever supportive, but ever impatient as well. So before Charlotte was good and well aware ‘Lizzie’ had her all set up for a blind date later that night.

Charlotte did her best not to take any offence in Lizzie’s sudden matchmaking extravaganza - lord knows how long she’d been pushing the matter - but decided to ‘just go with it’.

Charlotte switched her phone into flight mode as she boarded the train. She had a thing with flight mode. The thrill of being able to cut out all outside intrusions was one she often indulged in. And right now she had opted to treat herself to some lounge music while reading. With two hours to kill, it seems the perfect getaway from reality.

She settled in her seat, earphones plugged in, loungy music on and one of her new acquirements resting in her hands. She admired the mysterious cover for a while. It was a book Tom had highly recommended to her. Intrigued, she curiously delved in.

WIthin no less than a dozen pages, to her greatest surprise, the words struck home to both Charlotte and her wounded heart.

“Even though I complain sometimes it (his heart) said, it’s because I am the heart of a person, and people’s hearts are that way. People are afraid to pursue their most important dreams because they feel they don’t deserve them, or that they won’t be able to achieve them.

Many years ago Charlotte had lost her heart to a man. Well, a boy still when they’d first met. And she’d treasured him just as much as he had treasured her. They had gone through so much together; they left the university-benches together and dived headfirst into their professional lives. And while they took their time to search where their respective professional futures lay, they wasted no time on their personal future and got married. She’d truly followed her heart.

Fairly soon he was on his road to success, while Charlotte struggled. They bought a flat with a breath-taking view over the park but by then the marriage was already in heavy weather...

Charlotte’s stomach turned into a knot as the narrative in the book went on.

"We, their hearts, become fearful just thinking of loved ones who go away, or of moments that could have been good, but weren’t, or treasures that might have been found but were forever hidden in the sands. Because when these things happen we suffer terribly.”

You see; back then, in her professional life Charlotte had only faced glass ceilings and struggled with the balance between professional and private life. A struggle her husband had failed to see or recognize.

Evidently work demanded they would started moving in different circles, networking, meeting new people, investing. He had to put in crazy hours, there was no energy left for other struggles. And Charlotte definitely felt like a struggle he wanted to do without. Or one he could do without.

It astounded her really. After all, they had overcome so much together; she always thought their relationship had a solid foundation that could resist any type of storm. But somehow, in this phase of their lives, she felt as if their marriage was built on nothing more than a children’s floaty. Whimsical, terrifyingly unpredictable. To make matters worse, in his opinion there was only room for one career in a marriage. Charlotte begged to differ but for the sake of her marriage she gave up trying to pursue more , thinking it would make her happier and by result him as well. Only it didn’t.

She wasn’t suffering though, not anymore , Charlotte thought. With pain in her heart, she had to accept the crumbling of their relationship, their understanding and ultimately their love. She had fought and sacrificed, alas it takes two to tango and their paths lay so far apart now. Closing the door on her marriage, she closed off the door to love in general. Although the divorce was ultimately somehow a mutual decision; that didn’t mean it hurt any less. He had been a part of her past and present, but sadly no longer held her future and that insight hurt. Those who say infidelity hurts the most, meet ‘indifference’; the very close runner up!

"My heart is afraid it will have to suffer,” said the boy.

“Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams because every second of the search is an encounter with God….”

Charlotte had turned her focus now solely on her professional life where all of a sudden – to her a delight - a glass ceiling started showing subtle cracks. She grasped the opportunity with both hands, diving into work and research at full speed, ignoring all else.

Her wings had been clipped in the past, she felt she owed it to herself to open them up now and fly. Far, far away. And she dreaded the day (or the person) who would even try to confine her again.

It caused her an occasional lecture from her best friend Lizzie, but was it clear to outsiders as well that she had closed herself off like this? Or was Tom’s recommendation of this particular book just a happy – albeit freakishly strange - coincidence?

Cracking open the door to my heart wasn’t enough; must you take down the entire façade as well?

Realising the answer to this question was irrelevant she immediately engrossed herself further in the book. Charlotte felt tears stinging as the chapter went on. Before she knew it, she was halfway along the book when the train halted at her destination. She left the train with a heavy heart, an emotional wound but a regained insight. She shook her head and tucked her new favourite book in her purse.

2. It had to be said : Charlotte was pleasantly surprised that she was greeted with a very charming man that evening.

Well done Lizzie!

He was tall and dressed to the nines, with dark hair, piercing green eyes and a handsome smile to match. She had an inkling he knèw he had charm, but she was not yet sure if he played that card.

He turned out to be both charismatic and intelligent. Charlotte had to fight her inner cynic who immediately wanted to find out what was ‘wrong’ with him in order for him to be single, temporarily forgetting he might as well have the same reservations towards her.

They shared appetizers while talking about the current heat wave, the local news, bits and bobs. It was mildly entertaining, at least as far as anxious blind dates can go. It would seem a lovely dinner would ensue.

The man was athletic, which made him easy on the eye however not on the mind. It started when dinner was ordered and gluten was off limits. “Not allergic,” he elaborated, “but bad for my physique.” Charlotte however gladly indulged in a homemade Sicilian pasta stew. It wasn’t meant as a rebellious act, she was simply a not-so-secret foodie.

We’re on the fence here, ladies and gentlemen, but let us not jump to conclusions…

When the topic of interest came up, it was clear they could not have been more divers and while in her mind that thrilled her, she found he held no remote interest in her hobbies. In fact; he was quite opinionated. She may have been as well, but isn’t there some sort of grey zone? Or the illusion of politeness for starters?

Strike 1.

He considered art as overrated and too pricey. While Charlotte could agree on the financial matter, but ‘overrated’? Seriously? He considered literature old and stuffy, and commented along the lines of “honestly who reads these days.”

Strike 2.

Also, he left his smartphone on the table during the entire dinner and wasn’t too shy to check it at times. Hel-lo?

Strike 3.

Charlotte had learned long ago to be honest about her desires and so by the end of dinner, after the coffee and the dessert, when he suggested drinks at a wine & lounge bar, she politely refused. She was knackered and the foresight of spending more time going through pointless conversation frustrated her.

She kindly bid her farewell and at his attempt to a ‘let’s do this again maybe’ Charlotte carefully added she did not see any point in that. Kind as he might have been. She was met with a surprised reaction. Apparently he did not expect an answer as honest as this, even though he did feel the same.

Was it not ok to just step forward and say things like this, then?

Clearly he wasn’t a feminist either. Or was she just high maintenance?

You’re out!

On her walk home, Charlotte unmuted her smartphone. At least shé had the common sense to zone out outside distractions during her date. As expected Lizzie had already dropped several lines to her. And Charlotte was about to – and very gingerly so – elaborate on the horror-date, “ 3 hours down the drain, did I rush home for this ?” when she made another, more pleasant, discovery.

Tom had replied to her Amsterdam snapshots. It instantly lifted her mood to read her pictures had brought ‘joy to his heart’ before going on to share an equally amusing as eloquent anecdote on his day. Clearly a man who reads , the devil on her shoulder fired back to her long-gone date.

3.

After London, Charlotte had adjusted his name on her contact list to the more fitting ‘Instigator Tom’. She grinned as they exchanged some messages back and forth. As it appeared Charlotte wasn’t the only one who had suffered a lousy end to a promising evening; Tom had gone through a crappy day as well. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she carefully informed him :

                           I started reading ‘The Alchemist’<<

>>And? Your thoughts so far?

          There was this quote that I cannot shake…<<   ”You will never be able to escape from your heart.<<           So it's better to listen to what it has to say”<<                                       So tonight, I listened to it.<<

Tom’s lips curved into a smile while he tapped on his phone that that was undoubtedly a very wise decision on her behalf. Although he did sympathise for her date gone wrong. He chuckled out loud when Charlotte swiftly countered with a “you should be, it’s all your fault really - recommending that book and all…” And he gladly and sincerely apologized to her.

To his surprise her date turned out to be a blind date, and before he was well aware he had sent out :

>> So, it was a ‘blind’ date? Forgive me for saying, but you don’t strike me as the type who would need a set-up?

                                     I’ll take the compliment ;-) <<

So Charlotte had went on a date, a blind one at that. While Tom wanted to think 'good for her', his mind fixated on 'single'. Truly, he wanted nothing more than to bond with her on the difficulties of dating but found himself lacking for any decent answer in that department because he simply did not date. Not anymore.

Long gone were the days were he would (or could) just go out and strike up a conversation with a woman and see where it went. He wasn’t around long enough to let anything flourish, let alone bloom. Not at all. When he wasn’t working, his days or evenings were filled with press tours, interviews, premiers, gala's. Maybe an occasional party. But the essence of it all was always exactly the same. Someone would pull on his sleeve, demanding him to ' come and meet someone' . Someone in his line of work, someone up and coming, someone he should definitely rub shoulders with. Meet so and so. Talk, discuss, network. At times it really wàs lovely and interesting. But the horrible truth of the matter remained that Tom was living by his work schedule and not by his heart. A very conscious decision he’d made many years ago, that had somehow turned into a grueling reality these days.

So he replied to Charlotte in the only way he could, by truthfully confiding in her and sharing the loneliness of the ‘picture perfect actors’ behind the spotlights.

Thank you for saying that. However, I find this very doubtful… <<

>> It is the truth though, I’m afraid.

He hesitated for a moment, before daring to question her :

>> You’ve not been dating long?

              No. Just easing into it again. (Peer pressure)<<                                                        It’s been a while…<<

Tom unknowingly bit his lower lip, subsequently running his tongue over it while he wondered how he could diplomatically find out more without seeming crass or rude. Did she suffer from a bad break-up? To his surprise she very easily and clearly admitted that the only thing she ‘suffered from’ was a lonely divorce.

A divorce?

Charlotte chuckled and shook her head when Tom apologized via text - as if he had anything to do with her marital status… A short text of his followed asking her what had happened and then a third one; another apology because he reasoned his asking was ‘probably rather indiscrete’.

She was unaware that a heavy sigh escaped her lips as she delved deep into her thoughts before typing out:

                         That’s all right. I guess ‘life’ happened?<<                                                   Feels like failure though.<<

Or the death slot on the goose board. Back to square one.<<

                                           (can’t believe I just said that)<<

         Goes to show, I’m damaged goods. Steer clear ;-)<<

Her answer came out in a series of separate texts. The obvious proof her mind was still processing somewhat. Tom’s benevolent reply that she shouldn’t be too hard on herself, warmed her heard. After all, he reasoned “Sometimes it’s nice to start over? Or heal.”

                                                                  So they say… <<

Dot. End of the line.

Charlotte kept silent after this. Nothing more was to be said on the matter, was there? In London, Tom thought long and hard about a decent reply… In his heart he felt he could not end this conversation on those last words of her.

>> If memory serves me well, the book also says : “Don't give in to your fears. If you do, you won't be able to talk to your heart.”

Charlotte smiled to herself as a text followed in which he reasoned “we’re not meant nor made to be alone” and that her peer pressuring friends are right in pushing her forward after nearly a year on the bench. “Someone to talk to late at night, Someone to cuddle, … not to be underestimated!”

He shook his head to himself when he caught himself typing that the end of a marriage isn’t the be all - end all. And while he fervently dreamed he would never have to experience a divorce first-hand, sometimes it was simply the right thing to do. If only you handled it well. In which case he referred to his parents and the toll it could possibly take on the young children involved. But Charlotte had no children, she was young enough to start over. And there is no harm in that.

Now this is some very cheap therapy , a mirthless grin at his own expense.

>> Not all storms come to disrupt your life, Charlotte, some come to clear your path.

A pause.

>> Besides, there’s always the prison-slot. Just a time-out until someone sets you free.

                                                       … isn’t that a Sting song?<<

>> Avoiding the point Charlotte..

                                                                                            :-) <<          Thank you for recommending the book to me though.. <<

>> I hold it close to my heart. I had a feeling you might appreciate it as well.

Charlotte heaved a content sigh and confessed that, indeed, all she wanted to to was to get home and finish the book. To her surprise he correctly guessed she would and should just do that in her garden. Good memory, young man. Bonus points for you.

She agreed with him and shared her intent of making a fresh mint tea first. Because when you read in the garden at night, this was the only way to do it right. He chuckled to himself and confessed how much he could relate to that.

Their conversation ended with wishing the other a good night and the promise of more book recommendations.

Placing his smart phone away, Tom reminisced on the sneak-peak he’d gotten of her heart and it was not what he had imagined it to be. In his eyes she was intelligent, beautiful and carefree. He never considered her broken hearted. Goes to show everybody hides behind a façade, he realised. It made him like her just a little bit more.

[theloniousbach]

50 Years of Going to Shows, Pt. 2: The Grateful Dead Universe

Part one of this series extrapolated from the conceit that the 9/4/19 Hot Tuna show here at the Sheldon Concert Hall also marked the anniversary of my Fall 1969 Johnny Winter concert that was my first rock show.  50 years!!   That segment was about those early concerts in KC (well, a couple of Dylan shows in St. Louis and then Chicago).  

The glaring omission from that note was the Grateful Dead (11/11-12/72; 6/16/74 Des Moines; and 10/28/77).  I propose correcting that with this entry that can take up 7/26-27/94 and 7/5-6/95 (shows 4 and 3 from the end) plus visits with The Other Ones, The Dead, Furthur, Dead and Company, various Phil Lesh and Friends iterations (including the Q 3 times, the Campbell/Greene band twice, another time with Campbell, and this past summer with an Allison Krauss sit in); Ratdog maybe 5 times; Weir and Wolf Bros; and Joe Russo’s Almost Dead to whom I’ve passed the torch.

This is a quite modest Deadhead roll call, but it does include 1972, a Wall of Sound, and 1977.  So I’ve been around long enough to have opinions.  

And I do have opinions.

1972–The 11/11 show was all we thought we were going to get.  A Sunday night show after them always missing us.  There was a rumor then, pure fiction it turns out, that they opened (?!?) for Iron Butterfly (#@%!) in KC before I got on the bus (1969ish?).  I was transfixed—the long unfolding two sets, pauses including for a cigarette puffs), the wide range of songs, the stacks of speakers and Macintosh amps even if it wasn’t quite officially a Wall of Sound show—but that’s all I remember.  Set lists say there was a Box of Rain.  

The second show got added and I was going to go no matter what—two school nights in a row.  And that one is better fixed in memory because of an Owsley Stanley tape that captures a sprawling Playing in the Band to close the first set.  I don’t need that tape to remember the Dark Star>Morning Dew, though being able to revisit it sure is a treat.  It was in fact huge though I was beside myself from the opening notes announcing that the adventure was beginning.  In the moment, I just knew it was happening and that was good enough then.  It is a big big one though with lots of space travel before settling into the Dew.  I turned grumpy about Dew but this one was magic then and now.  

1974–I couldn’t get anybody to go to Des Moines to see them that June.  My dad, actually, was up for the drive and camping (him staying in camp while I and the other Deadheads went to the afternoon outdoor show.  He had a draft dissertation to read which he left somehow but we got it back).  The key parts of this show (another Playing with a gnarly breakdown) were released officially as part of the Road Trips series honoring the Wall of Sound.  That was a sight though I thought I’d seen a version of it inside in KC.  Also a sight was Garcia’s chin and upper lip as he had reduced the beard to mutton chops for a very short while.  The second set was where the meat of the show was culminating in the Playing.  I experienced it at the time as meandering and anxious, without the tranquil spaciness of some of their explorations, but it’s just fine and part of the oeuvre as per repeated listening AND a much broader experience with their music.

1977–When Steal Your Face and then Blues for Allah came out, my enthusiasm was waning.  To this day, I’m a pre-hiatus fan with a real focus on 71-74 when Kreutzmann was the only drummer.  They were more lithe, exploratory, and dynamic.  Still a good friend told me I was going back to Memorial Hall for a late 1977 show, so I got part of that magical year.  And what stood out was 1977 slinkiness even though there wasn’t a Dancin’ in the Streets.  But Lazy Lightning>Supplication, Samson and Delilah, and Passenger all caught my ear.  It was fun, but I was not on the bus much.

The taping scene pulled me back in in the late 1980s, though I’d been intrigued by Lowell George of Little Feat producing Shakedown Street.  I suppose in some ways I am a secondary Touch Head, though Without a Net too was welcome.

I was on the periphery of the Brent Mydland era and actually found Bruce Hornsby’s interlude a real boost to the creativity, particularly Garcia’s. That was spent really by 1994 and 1995.  I went to both nights that they were in St. Louis on those summer tours.  Still I was glad to see the break outs and covers (Here Comes Sunshine, Take Me to the River), but they were going through the motions, keeping Garcia in tow.  It was fun, I'm glad, I'm went, they are memorable in a general sense, but I won't go play recordings.  1995 was the third and fourth shows from the end as they headed from here to Chicago.  Within 5 weeks, Garcia was dead.

It was about the party or, ahem, the cultural experience. I'm glad I got that too with the originals (and subsequent Furthur Festival/The Other Ones/The Dead/Furthur/Dead and Company shows in big venues were as much about that as the music), but an advantage of the end of the big machine is that the shows got much smaller.  The party was still there, but the music was closer. Also as I have aged, I've been willing to pay for better seats (to see Phil Lesh at Willie Nelson's Outlaw Festival this summer we even paid for premium parking.  Sheesh.) so that helps put the music to the fore.

So has couch touring—and that is how my concert gang and I saw the first night of Fare The Well—GD 50 from Levi Stadium in the Bay Area as well as the Friday and Sunday from Chicago.  We also saw a Phil Lesh Quintet reunion.  Being in real time, I count those as shows which indicates that experiencing the music live is what counts for me.

The GD Meet Up at the Movies don’t, but they do remind me that I like to be in the presence of those songs and their creators. And that has pulled me along so far to shows that have included at least Phil Lesh and/or Bob Weir.  I actually am a fan of Drums/Space and stay in my seat to watch the spontaneous magic happen, so having Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart along for The Other Ones, The Dead, and Dead and Company is just fine.  But those operations felt a little bloated.  They have to be in large spaces to accommodate the party, so the gestures are equally grand and the rituals are observed.  Furthur (Lesh and Weir’s operation) was a bit more nimble—one drummer, Joe Russo, and more flexible set lists.  But I saw them in a small arena (12 K) and The Fox Theater (almost 5 K), so those were big concert experiences.

Bob Weir is an indefatigable road warrior, sometimes when he shouldn’t.  St. Louis was an early stop of a Fall 2004 tour that was aborted.  But we got to see him and it was awfully good, one I return to.  It jammed into Jack Straw into the opening of a Terrapin that would be concluded in the second set and the rest of the suite in the encore into Dark Star (my first since 1972 and the only one of two more I saw in person, both from Ratdog) that concluded at the end of the set before back into Jack Straw.  The second set had Peggy O, The Winners, and Friend of the Devil for a can’t be beat acoustic interlude before firing up The Other One and Uncle John’s Band (its reprise after Terrapin proper closed the second set.  With the exception of Playin’, he rehearsed all the big tunes and was energetic and in good voice.  That one was a treat.

Ratdog was always fun, a solid band and a showcase for Weir’s quirkinesses which help make the GD experience.  I like many of his songs more than Garcia’s, excuse the heresy, but I confess that I probably haven’t given up being angry at him not just for being dead but for dying, for giving up which probably started in the 1980s.

Ratdog shows were chances to hear the songs and Weir’s take on them, including Garcia’s at the heart of the canon were always good to hear.  He brought most things into circulation.  The bands were not the all star configurations that Lesh’s were, but they were effective.  St. Louis shows reflected his connection with Johnny Johnson (a 2003 The Dead Show had Johnson and Willie Nelson jam on Little Red Rooster (overplayed over the years, but the way to do a 12 bar blues) and Lovelight that was historic).  After Johnson’s death, it was his horn section sitting in, usually for one of the big jam tunes.  A Dark Star stands out, but there must have been a Sailor>Saint or Eyes another year.

But it is Lesh who is the curator of the part of the universe that matters to me—the invention, the opportunity that any tune can unfold into a world of possibility.  That was most clear with the Q—John Molo, Warren Haynes, Jimmy Herring, and Rob Barracco whom I got to see in their prime three times.  They played the big barn with Weir’s Ratdog to open in July 2001, with a Weir sit in to open set one.  The feature of that one was a Viola Lee Blues sandwich that wove out of that primal jam vehicle from the GD past four times with interludes of Lovelight, Tons of Steel, and Into the Mystic.  Lesh would pull out tunes that had fallen out of the rotation—Alligator and Doin’ That Rag that night, Caution with Furthur at the Fox, Cosmic Charlie with the Q that November, and Viola itself.  The Q revival Couch Tour show we saw had a Mountains of the Moon which suggested a potential (not developed) for that tune as a subtle jam vehicle just as it was the last night of Fare The Well.  They did Beatles tunes, Brent Tunes, Van Morrison.  The second show at the Fox for some reason doesn’t leap out as magical.  But the third one, also at the Fox, on what would have been Garcia’s 60th birthday was.  The first hour was Bird Song>Here Comes Sunshine>Not Fade Away and had me riveted.  The second set had Sunshine of Your Love and a transcendent Low Spark of High Heeled Boys with Haynes somehow capturing the piano parts on guitar.

My only quasi bit of touring was to run over to Indianapolis to see Lesh in a hybrid band of Molo and Barraco with Larry Campbell, Barry Sless on pedal steel, Greg Osby on alto, and Joan Osborne on vocals.  It was a hot hot day but good adventurous stuff.  The Peggy O  as a story with Lesh narrating, Osborne being the fair maid, Campbell as our captain was very cool.  Bertha, Viola, and Shakedown stretched things out too.

With the Molo/Larry Campbell/Jackie Greene/Steve Molitz band, I got to see the premiere of the Ritter Eyes of Horus bass.  A dark stage, the fretboard LED lights on, a solo into The Other One and then Truckin' made quite an impression.  It didn't have the heft/power of the Modulus instruments he used before and after (a possibly smaller one) and it was more striking then pretty, but it was a moment of GD lore that happened on my watch.  Those were two good shows with Campbell showing a range I hadn't expected.  He could dig into the jams whereas I thought he would be more of a Robbie Robertson fills and one chorus solos player. It was also fun to watch Greene grow.  It was like he went to grad school or maybe a post doc in that band.

I have seen Greene at least 5 subsequent times (Duck Room, Old Rock House twice (band and "acoustic," Delmar Hall, and as an opener for Gov't Mule).  He has tasty covers including but not exclusively GD ones and some damn good tunes.  It's good to see his efforts to extend the GD universe.

But I'm putting my money on Joe Russo's Almost Dead as where the legacy will reside.

I saw them earlier in the year and they strike me as not just a Dead cover band, but a PLQ cover band--anything can be jammed out, the tunes can be played in any order in any part of the set.  Russo is a dynamo of energy on drums and his alter ego Marco Benevento is an inventive player.  It's cool to see the varied opportunities the music presents.

My shows this year with Weir (the Wolf Bros trio) and Lesh at Willie Nelson’s Outlaw Festival felt valedictory.  Weir was an interesting disappointment in that his wonderfully idiosyncratic guitar was at the fore, but too often through a too thin toned D’Angelico Bedford guitar.  He had that jangled tone in Ratdog but it went away during Fare The Well and beyond when he used Fender Stratocasters. His voice too was thinner.  So, while I wanted to see him in the spare setting, I don’t need to do it again.

And, though I’m likely to succumb to peer pressure if Dead and Company comes to town, I don’t need that party.

So, I’m content to go out on the Phil and Friends set at the barn with Willie Nelson as my last time seeing an original member.  There was Molo once again, Jason Crosby and Stu Allen from the Terrapin scene, and a new other guitarist Cris Jacobs.  The set had Jack Straw, Brown Eyed Women, Sugaree, and a Cumberland Blues (a favorite) as the closer.  Eyes was the jamming tune, but so was Help>Slip>Morning Dew.  And what a Dew it was as Alison Krauss sang it as she did on To Lay Me Down.  Amazing and what a rare moment in the Dead universe.

Dead music is magical and so it has been for me right to this end.

But long live JRAD too.

[fortheheavenssake]

PG MM Anon Interpretation Collection- 11

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

71: Sept. 30

MM Anon

MM ANON …… PR gestapo returns … the converted are turning …… never a Dull atonement …… “So quick bright things come to confusion”… 🎼 “A spoonful of sugar”🎼 …… a hostage to her fortune … the grey accountants …… “ death and taxes “…… a Scottish invitation accepted …… “Back home old thing, shame!!!”…… old habits…… new evidence has leaked…… a basket full of eggs.

PR gestapo returns

The PR team returns to London to continue their ‘dark arts’ of deception on madams behalf. They are preaching to the wrong crowd. There is no amount of PR that could change things. It’s far too late, even if she got on her knees(go away filthy ideas), in Trafalgar Square and pleaded forgiveness, there would be none, ITS TOO LATE! Leave her to Heaven, by the way that’s a fantastic film and fits perfectly about narcissism. Jeanne Craine and the gorgeous Gene Tierney who plays the narc so amazingly well! I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS FILM!!! Or is this JS hired by PA to do his PR? Likely not because it says returns!

the converted are turning

Many people who were chuffed and liked madam are seeing abs turnings their opinions as they are realizing who and what she really is. That’s the baffling thing about HRC and MO chiming in supporting her. They have no business doing that or do they? Backers??

never a Dull atonement

Atonement,is a reparation for a wrong or injury, (in religious contexts) reparation or expiation for sin. The statement is never a dull moment but MM ANON has changed it and capitalized Dull. We know she has done fake conversion to several religions through first two marriages, now baptized allegedly into the COE prior to marriage . Atonement has never been on her radar. So what of it, is she going to go whiz bang to Balmoral fall on her sword and beg mercy from the Crown? Is that what this means? I highly doubt it. I am struggling with the capital D in Dull, is the opposite of Dull meant? She will never atone, but she’s never dull either, dim yes but dull no.

“So quick bright things come to confusion”

This is why l love the riddles, teachable moments and MM ANON never fails to deliver. Alas we return to our beloved Shakespeare, this theme A Midsummer Nights Dream . Their relationship, to call it that, began at Soho as a hookup, and progressed to now. It was never ever love for either! However, the public, who so badly want Harry happy believed the story, most of them. As time went on certain people like our 💜🐼💜, and others began to ask questions because they saw cracks and inconsistencies. Fast forward to today, madam is hated, loathed, despised in the U.K. and many other places in the Commonwealth and beyond! I have no idea how she can ever do an appearance in public after the final slap of hiding amw and then showing off live baby in SA, final massive F*** YOU to HMTQ, the U.K. and the Commonwealth! The bloom is off the rose big time, just thorns left. Thank you MM ANON for using Shakespeare, l am wondering how many more riddles there will be, l am sensing a real tipping point.

🎼 “A spoonful of sugar”🎼

Julie Andrews at her finest in Mary Poppins, such a shame a surgeon botched surgery and she can no longer sing, makes me angry actually the world deprived of her voice, speaking selfishly. I saw her interviewed, she was so classy talking about how that changed her life. But l digress, the line is a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, in the most delightful way, l can hear her singing it as I type and sing along! So here’s the rub of it, what is the medicine that needs sweetening, is it actually medicine for madam, that’s way too obvious for MM ANON. I think there is something on offer that madam will tolerate return to,London and trip to Balmoral , what is that? It’s the availability of hobby items, that’s the one thing she needs! Like physically neeeds!

a hostage to her fortune

Ha ha this is funny! Having a fortune, speaking money here, and being hostage or tethered to it. Most of it is ill gotten gains allegedly, of course l know nothing, one would owe home country amazing amount of taxes and if unlawfully obtained money, it’s Literally your fortune as in future. If ill gotten gains, the lawmen come a calling. So the use of the word fortune was very clever as usual MM ANON! Fortune as in financials and fortune as in tell my fortune, the future things to come!

the grey accountants

The brilliant men in grey, behind the scenes doing HMTQ work. Intel, surveillance, interviews, AND keeping track of every single coin$$$££££€€€ earned. I can only imagine the total by now. Given the reception President DT received and the intel that he brought, l am certain the US/IRS is working in tandem with the loyal men in grey forever unknown but giving their all to serve the Crown and HMTQ! God bless them!

“ death and taxes “

Two old phrases l love, the only things certain in life are death and taxes. The other one is, you can’t fight city hall. So, if l read this correctly madam has a massive tax bill due from the American tax man. Can you hear his adding machine(those of you of my vintage will know exactwhat l mean🤣🤣) can you hear it Rachel? Can you hear the footsteps of the taxman comets? Can you Rachel? It’s like Poe’s Telltale Heart. Have you even heard of Poe or the story Rachel? Likely not, but the taxman wants his due!!

a Scottish invitation accepted

So, at long last, they will deign to attend HMTQ and give Her the honour of their company at beloved Balmoral, her safe place. . Isn’t that grand and kind of them? I am sure HMTQ is squealing with delight at this visit, NOT!

“Back home old thing, shame!!!”

LG to HMTQ, upon the return of the Sussexes or, since its October, this is the month her respite/vacation to Balmoral ends and she returns to the hectic pace of London life. Although, between BOJO, PA and The Sussexes, l can’t imagine this has been much of a respite.

old habits

Oh old habits die hard! Old hobbies do as well, sniff sniff, snort, snort, swallow, swallow, yes return to London will bring ample time and availability of hobbies and hobby time. I said London, because we ALL know, no one is living at Frogmore except Kermit 🐸. Keep at it, the nose will completely collapse, no amount of plastic surgery can ever truly repair it.

new evidence has leaked…

Is this regarding BOJO ? And his continuing issues of women? I am not aware of any other leaks, but l haven’t read the blog or papers yet. I am still 💤💤💤💤😴😴😴 resting a lot .

a basket full of eggs.

My, my, my, my a basket of eggs is so fragile isn’t it? One wrong move and they crack. The older the eggs are, they are more fragile and they can go off. Now we are definitely not talking chicken 🐓 🥚 eggs here. A woman of her age , those eggs, harvested, must be very near or past their sell by date. When the extraction was done, viable leftovers would have been cryofrozen. Have the 🥚 eggs in the 🧺, cracked, not viable, not healthy? Oh God please intervene make it thus, so no more innocents are created to be used and abused.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you dear PG! I get lost in your words….like a great turn pager….I want more…more …….more! Thank you, sounding good! I love taxmen talk! 🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜

💜💜addition:

PR Gestapo returns

The SS was the Nazi feared from wiki

The Schutzstaffel (SS; also stylized as Sig runes thin.png with Armanen runes; German pronunciation: [ˈʃʊtsˌʃtafl̩] (About this soundlisten); literally “Protection Squadron”) was a major paramilitary organization under Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Party (NSDAP) in Nazi Germany, and later throughout German-occupied Europe during World War II

SS IS SUNSHINE SACHS!! These things stock in my head and bug me, a light came on, l had to come back to add this.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Ask Skippy submission

—————-

72: Oct. 1

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU SO MUCH MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon

MM ANON … 🎼” back to black”🎼…… uncomfortably reunion …… “ AND THE CROWDS WENT…… home”… “blend in with the POC”🤣🤣🤣🤣…… Pressed for time. …… PR with blinkers… don’t Sue the messenger …… Harry on camping…… background colour …… “ bloody African Queen ‘ don’t think so”…… “ returning after their triumphant tour “…… OMG’ it’s definitely her

🎼” back to black”🎼

Amy Winehouse, what a tragic loss, she was working so hard to get clean. So many talented people, artists, musicians, writers, throughout the ages have struggled with mental illness and addiction of varying types. This song is about lots of sex, relationship where her man comes and goes to other women and her dying inside, the couple using drugs together, extremely dysfunctional relationship. MM ANON , are you equating the current ones in discussion to the type of relationship in this heartbreaking song? I miss Amy Winehouse, they tried to make me go to rehab but l said no no no! RIP AMY🙏🏻

uncomfortably reunion

Return to London and interacting with the press was going to be tough back home. But now, l have no clue what’s going to happen. Reunions with the BRF, l have no words. HMTQ , PP LG everyone must be FURIOUS! I can imagine a lot of cocktails, late nights and foul words. This is all so unnecessary, look how our dear Autumn, she married Peter Philips, she’s Canadian, she has seamlessly adjusted. Hasn’t put a foot wrong. This is all down to one thing , evil, manifesting itself in heavy narcissism!

“ AND THE CROWDS WENT…… home”

We have had this line before. The ‘crowds’ yesterday at Victoria Yards , what l saw photos of two people, one on each side not standing too close and than two photographers. Others had children running up to her, she hugged them, Today, at uni, she has become patron of the ACU, Association of Commonwealth Universities. The comment in the paper said they ‘hailed her partially because she was black”. No huge crowds, the people didn’t linger long or wait hours and hours.

“blend in with the POC”🤣🤣🤣

She has been doing her own thing, likely all prearranged by PR, right down to someone from the embassy ordering bespoke 👖 jeans for her. She did the shopping walk about at Victoria Yards, buying things here and there. She personally went to puck up her jeans, the designer/maker was so excited, he had made a little pair for amw, they were so cute. So she was at the uni today, blending in, as per the comment l wrote .

Pressed for time.

Busy schedule for both of them during this holiday. I was hoping Harry could get into talks with Angolan government officials regarding becoming a Commonwealth member, that was the goal, his first attempt at a diplomatic mission. Pressed, ironing, l know this isn’t it, but gracious both of their clothes have been a mess. Wrinkled, ratty, those brown suede lace ups, Harry please toss them, please! They all need pressing/ironing. I know, MM ANON, that is not what you meant but it fits well. The press had their flight from London delayed about ten hours l think, they were not permitted at amw and DT meeting, it was all privately hired and now owned by the Sussex team. Now with what’s happened today, my mind is whirling in many directions for this clue.

PR with blinkers

Sirens for emergency, police, fire, ambulance. PR blinkers LLOK HERE something great happening. Or don’t look there, nothing to see at all carry on. I keep reading PR firms use the ‘dark arts’. The paper said that about Jason Stein, PA new PR guy, as well. Just what are these dark arts? PR is going off the charts upon return to the U.K. In fact, blinkers/sirens/looky here have just happened today with the letter from Harry and lawsuit filed against the DM for something they did months and months ago. Why now? Is it a last money grab? It’s nearing the end, Winter is coming, winter is coming.

don’t Sue the messenger

Well normally it’s don’t shoot the messenger, but here we finally have it today, lawsuit filed against the DM and it’s parent company. The stony silent press have been sitting on a dossier of lurid information,a stand-off, so to speak is over. The British Press have kept schtum on a dossier so raunchy, l cannot fathom. Today, shots fired off the bow, and battle has begun. I said it last night in my riddle interpretation, we are near a tipping point, well that was last night, today, NOW , the tipping point has arrived. War has been declared, and it’s going to get very very VERY NASTY!

Harry on camping…

Harry was part of National Geographic and was laying on the ground in Malawi, taking the most amazing uplook photos near and of a Baobab tree. He looked in his element, out in nature, enjoying its beauty and taking photographs for his contributions to a joint project with Nat Geo.

background colour

She has always, professionally and socially identified as Caucasian, this has been her background. Seemingly, when convenient, things change, bronzer goes deeper, she calls herself sister to Africans. Interesting, beyond my comprehension how someone can continue and continue to use others, without any regard, none at all. You’re convenient, if l need something from you, l will take it, when you’re not of use bye bye.

“ bloody African Queen ‘ don’t think so”

Great film with Bogart and Hepburn, the African Queen is. But l digress, these are PP, words of disgust as her self perception of being a sister and POC , and thus more relatable and the Queen of Africa. I think she has the same skin tone as before, before the bronzer face overload. You look at today’s photos her arms and legs are pink, it’s especially noticeable when she is standing next to a local person of a different culture. I am boiling at this point. The powder keg has been lit. We wait for response from HMTQ!

“ returning after their triumphant tour “

Yes, like the Prodigal son returns after doing whatever he wanted and was welcomed with open arms! Ah no, that will DEFINITELY NOT BE THE WELCOME, ESPECIALLY AFTER TODAYS EXPLOSIVES LOBBED AT THE BRITISH MEDIA! They have sat silent on what they know for over two years! Taking to court, something called discovery in the U.S., both sides have to share their data. The welcome home was going to be explosive because of madams behaviour and ESPECIALLY because amw was paraded around like an Olympic medal!

OMG’ it’s definitely her”

Allegedly, can’t recall, ?last week, the alleged sex tape salad tape was sold. Is this meaning it’s in good lawful hands and they are convinced it’s madam??

Is this what people said when they saw her just out shopping yesterday, enjoying the buskers performance, surprising the designer and picking up her order? I honestly was happy for him, because he was so excited and he had been so thoughtful to make a pair for amw. He said he was so shocked to see her there in person. Again l am so happy for him. I hope his business increases through this media coverage!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you dear PG! This looks great! Good things coming! Greatly appreciate the effort you put in on doing the riddles for us! 🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

——————

73: Oct. 2

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF BIRTHDAY MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

🥳🥳🥳🥳🎂🎂🎂🎂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🍻🍻🍻🍻🍻WISHES FOR THE HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY, JUST SORRY I AM SO LATE AT IT🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳💜💜💜💜💜

MM Anon… Happy Birthday to you!

MM ANON …… A TM visit?…… a pitiful cry for help …… “tears of a Crown”…… “ Philip’ stop swearing!!”…… ink block carnage … a scathing edi-TORY-al……”A Sunday surprise “…… “well,well,well’ fe-MAIL- empowerment”…… Fleet St. circling the wagons …… 🎼 “ Homeward bound, I guess ………” 🎼j…… … ace card archificial …… “SA’ well that was a dud Megs”…… leap-Frog to Calipornia 🤫🤫🤫

A TM visit?

Oh my golly!! Is gramma Tom, Thomas MArkle, going to be visiting?😮😮😮😮 Will this be like when Samantha came to KP, in her wheelchair, that’s was so sad to see, they wouldn’t let her through security. Will TM just show up? I doubt he has that confidence. Ha ha speaking of confidence, did you know that was the original name for con, confidence game, you’d gain someone’s confidence or trust and then use then every which way you can. Anyhow again l digress, back to TM, are they arranging some sort of visit garnering public sentiment? Don’t bother Rachel, the public has developed sentiment and more than a plenty of it, it its far from good! After yesterday, nothing is left, of what little there was. But her MO, HRC AND EDGENERATE LOVE YOU! That makes a perfect life, with the one thing, they’re AMERICAN! Again my American friends, l love you, not bashing you, just a select few. Last time l checked, the titles you bear are British and Commonwealth titles.

a pitiful cry for help

I saw Harry today, in the still photos it was evident, but in the video, l KNOW WHAT HES FEELING BECAUSE I HAVE LIVED IT FOR 12 YEARS, AND LAST WEEK YOU ALL KNOW WHAT L WAS SUFFERING! Something has happened, he has either worked out his anger physically to such a point he’s torn a muscle or he has a slipped disc. The pain, as he stepped up to the podium, this time, him holding onto her, and his involuntary wincing, and trying to cover it up, L KNOW THAT PAIN. Please, PLEASE GET HIM HOME, BETWEEN, his mood, his wasting away, and now this, for goodness sake he needs being seen urgently, an MRI, and REST!! I am certain he has either been given an injectable for pain along with oral meds. Oh Harry, we are slowly watching you falling apart in every way. My heart aches beyond measure, when l saw the pain he is in, the physical pain, l know that, l live it!! Imagine his humiliation having to learn on madam, oh makes me sick.

“tears of a Crown”…

There is an old song, Tears of a Clown, think this is play on that. However, Crown, capitalized, is like the Royal We, it refers specifically to the reigning Monarch. Imagine HMTQ tears, yesterday especially, and today seeing him in pain. She has ruled for decades and decades. Nearing the end of her reign, when life should be treating her kind for her service, it has dealt her a well planned, well financed attack, involving use of her beloved grandson. I feel for her pain, yet l cannot fathom how deep it goes and how it must anger some and pain others in the family. The rage at this attack and the rubble it has left since it began spread far and wide across the U.K. , the Commonwealth and the world. Please let’s once again remember to pray for HMTQ.

“ Philip’ stop swearing!!”

As l speculated yesterday, in the riddle, there would likely be lots of cocktails, lots of foul language and lots of sleeplessness. This clue affirms one, HMTQ begging her husband to cease and desist the language. PP is an Alpha male, strong, Navy man, soldier, stalwart, ever present at HMTQ side. Now in his twilight years, just imagine his anger and feelings of helplessness, he too, is in need of our prayers. How l worry about both of them and their health. All of this woe and strife has to be having a marked detrimental effect on both and all around them.

ink block carnage

Ink blocks can be carved of stone or wood and are used for new beginners or more skilled calligraphers. Now madam has for quite some time put calligraphy on her CV(resumé). This has riled up actual skilled calligraphers who have said what she does, is not true calligraphy, it is flouncy fluffy writing, as girls do in junior high school. This letter, that she dated, signed and sent to daddy has come back to haunt , yet again . The carnage, the use of the media in the U.S. ie p e o p l e magazine, and in the U.K. Funny, it’s ok, for her pals to chatter on in a magazine but the person who the letter was given, to hence his property, cannot. Double standard yet again. The carnage continues. Lawsuit filed, letter supposedly written by a furious PH, accompanied it, all without consulting or informing HMTQ or the Palace. Don’t you worry, not a White happens without LG knowing! Again l remind you of that special wedding ring Harry wears. I will leave it there!

a scathing edi-TORY-al

Piers Morgan, editor of The Daily Mail and host of Good Morning Britain, formally identified as a Tory or Conservative, we call them Tories also, back in 1994. He today, had an editorial ready positive regarding the SA trip. He wrote the editorial but had to add to it. It did include positives, but then turn into a scathing public reprimand of yesterday’s occurrences. I would encourage you all to read it. I won’t repeat it all, but he pointed out the unmitigated gall of madam and the Princess Diana comparison, the usage of the media when on her own terms, madam, l mean. I cannot do it justice, just please read it. It is scathing to put it mildly, he pulls no punches, his cards are all laid out on the table 100%!

”A Sunday surprise “…

Will it ACTUALLY HAPPEN? Finally headlines printing of all the information in the million dollar dossier that the papers have been sitting on for two plus years now! Oh how dee doodee how l hope so! PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE WITH SUGAR AND A CHERRY 🍒 ON TOP!!!

“well,well,well’ fe-MAIL- empowerment”

Femail is a subset on the Daily Mail website, fluff meant for women, hence the cute usage and spelling. Madam features heavily there. She spoke about female empowerment and female access to education during her visit to the University of Johannesburg yesterday. Again she raised the idea of paying for university, she said she attended but did not, that l read, mention graduating or a degree. She mentioned families helping to finance the cost. She also announced four new scholarships. Earlier in the week she held a private breakfast for female activists.

Fleet St. circling the wagons

Fleet St(Street), is like the Royal we, it’s the term for British Media.Going back to 1500’s this was the street of printing and newspapers appeared several centuries now. It’s the term understood to represent British or London journalists and journalism. Circling the wagons again goes back hundreds of years, when the first settles arrived and moved out west. They were encroaching on native lands and often were attacked. They literally circled their wagons for shelter and protection. Now the tutorial done l can move on. Fleet st circling their wagons oh me , oh my!! Get ready kittens!!! The previews are almost over the main film, no pun intended, ACTUALLY MAJOR PUN INTENDED 🤣🤣😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣! The main film is about to begin, it’s all ready to roll and l for one am waiting with bated breath!!

🎼 “ Homeward bound, I guess

Again we have S&G(Simon and Garfunkel) homeward bound, sitting at the railway station……. not to Cali. Oh no no no, this is HOME, LONDON, tee here, no delays. The inevitable must happen, play time over and back to the real world. The usage of ‘lguess’, is hesitancy for her because it’s not her home, for him, because l can’t imagine his feelings and what he anticipates his reception will be!

” 🎼j…… … ace card archificial

You’ve got to have an ace in the hole by George Strait. MM ANON, l highly doubt this is the song you meant but it fits beautifully! It’s all about life, secrets, gambling etc etc. The ace card is from wiki. An ace is a playing card, die or domino with a single pip. In the standard French deck, an ace has a single suit symbol (a heart, diamond, spade, or club) located in the middle of the card, sometimes large and decorated, especially in the case of the ace of spades. This embellishment on the ace of spades started when King James VI of Scotland and I of Englandrequired an insignia of the printing house to be printed on the ace of spades. This insignia was necessary for identifying the printing house and stamping it as having paid the new stamp tax.[1] Although this requirement was abolished in 1960, the tradition has been kept by many card makers.[2] In other countries the stamp and embellishments are usually found on ace cards; clubs in France, diamonds in Russia, and hearts in Genoa because they have the most blank space.

The BRF have archficial as their ace, she thinks she does🤣🤣🤣😂😂

The whole fauxmegnancy, EVERYTHING that went along with it, finally seeing a real breathing baby in SA, many many ramifications. It’s not Harry’s child, DEFINITELY not of the body, may be her egg but surrogate carried alllegedly baby. The whole doll, thing, l have no idea how all this information will be leaked/shared with public.

“SA’ well that was a dud Megs”…

Dud, funny word, not used much these days but to a certain vintage,🤣🤣😂😂😂 like me , commonplace. It is a thing that fails to work properly, another word is lemon, again my vintage. Something that is worthless. However, when my mum used to say get your duds on, it meant hurry up get dressed, put your coats on. For church or elsewhere fancy, it was said you put your finest duds on. Memories anyone?😊. Here MM ANON certainly means the former, not the latter, although some of the duds, a lot of them have been very wrinkled and on madams part buttoned low at the bust and unbuttoned very high at the thigh. Well for the most part, her machinations aside, they were well received. What occurred yesterday by way of lawsuit announce was most bizarre timing. They just can’t seem to stop getting in their own way. The letter that is identified as being from Harry, has many many Americanisms. Taken only on paper, one could say, despite it being attributed as his words, one can say full stop this was written by an American, no offence. The wordage, sentence structure and the glaring use of the word democracy, when the U.K. has been a Monarchy, albeit with Parliament now, it most certainly is never ever defined as being a democracy. How do they let these things slip? These billion dollar PR firms? I know, we only need look who their client is. Full stop.

leap-Frog to Calipornia 🤫🤫🤫

Frogmore is the official residence, we all know they have never lived there. The locals told and continued to say the only time there were lights, vehicles, signs of life were when the builders were there. Interesting MM ANON Cali PORNIA. Good gracious, is this her plan, to hop across the pond back to Cali and earn $$$$££££€€€€ making porn? That just might be the job a madam is most deft at and qualified for.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you dear PG! I love your wit! You make reading your interpretations such fun, I get lost in them! Thank you so very much! This is sounding sooooooo good! Love you!🙏🏻💜💜💜💜

Oct 2nd,

——————

74: Oct. 3

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON! I HOPE YOUR BIRTHDAY WAS DELIGHTFUL 😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon

MM ANON …… rogue withdrawal …… a petulant rattle slays fleet st. …… royal analysis paralysis ……… “ settlement now!!!! ……TM lawyers up…… tabloid utopia …… “ This is a bloody tape diversion old thing “…………“A spitting Halloween 🎃 “……… “ remember ‘remember, the 5th of Nov.” …… “ Philip ‘ this year you give the Queen speech”…… 🎆🎇😱🇬🇧💩⚖️⚖️⚖️…… GBTQ.

rogue withdrawal

They say Harry has gone rogue by marrying against advice. They say Harry went rogue releasing the statement in November 2016 when madam told him she felt unsafe and race was an issue. I never knew she was not Caucasian until this came out. They say Harry has again gone rogue not so much with the lawsuit, which by the way HE IS NOT SUING!! It is in her name the lawsuit has been filed. Back to they say he has again gone rogue by that blistering angry letter on their website that also listed the lawsuit information. So withdrawal, to remove or take something away from a place or position. It can also mean to leave or cause to leave a place or situation. So , this clue is basically meaning, he/ they have left SA on a very angry tone , things will be interesting as they settle back in London. Just wondering are we back to a doll now? Was the baby SA? Or American? Or who, what, where, when, how and why. These are the tenets of being a good interviewer, getting those basics down. Don’t you just hate it when people use the word basically all the time? I do apologize for that!🤣🤣😂😂😂

a petulant rattle slays fleet st.

Well this is basically saying a moody grumpy baby threw his rattle out of his pram and slayed Fleet Street. I explained Fleet Street in yesterday’s riddle, it’s the street in London for centuries where the newspapers are printed. It’s now synonymous with British/London journalists and journalism. There have been a number of editorials penned, PM being the most scathingly critical of PH. They are describing their assessment of his behaviour as entitled, spoilt, selfish, immature, et al, hence the way this clue is worded. To put things short and simple they see him as a spoilt child whose had a bad temper tantrum, for no logical reason, right after he has been given ten days worth’s of gifts ie positive PR. You decide for yourself, l am just explaining this clue.

royal analysis paralysis

Are they really paralyzed? Unable to take any action? The public has been clamouring for months, for HMTQ to DO SOMETHING! Read the comments in the DM, any media, in pubs, in workplaces everywhere, people are wondering why nothing , in their eyes, is being or has been done to rein her in and by virtue of his proximity to her and what’s happened this week, rein him in also. We know very well she called LG back for help. The things like separating of offices, separating the Cambridges and the Sussexes, the Heads together has happened awhile ago. Their office was moved to BP. PC cut off their funds a few weeks ago. I am 100% certain there have been so many things going on internationally in the background, most of which will remain classified we will never know. International security is at play. Then we have PA and JE with GM. So l would encourage people just to have a think before determining their paralysis analysis is correct.

“ settlement now!!!!

Is Harry demanding settlement? He cannot take anymore? Or is this any number of family, PC, PW, PP, who see him wasting away , want this settled and over? This has gone way past a quick settlement and life goes on as before. The whole plan in its evil agenda, still exists. People are demanding rid of her, take their titles away, ship them off to California and live as private citizen celebrities.

TM lawyers up

TM, Thomas Markle, madams father or daddy as she calls him, has lawyered up? I read all the papers about six this morning, l didn’t read that. A family of grifters, sounds like a country music song. There have been those who have had their doubts about the provenance of madam and whose who in this group of individuals. There have been people who believe they are all working together in this alleged project. I have no clue. If he has lawyered up, it is a very wise thing. This thing just is festering and festering for two years now, how much more can it fester before the boil needs lancing or it explodes on its own? I wonder who his lawyer is and who is paying his legal bills. 🤔🤔🤔

tabloid utopia

Let’s define these words so we all know what the basics are. A tabloid is a newspaper having pages half the size of those of a standard newspaper, typically popular in style and dominated by headlines, photographs, and sensational stories.lets be clear tabloid social media is much more common these days. Utopia is defined an imagined place or state of things in which everything is perfect. So madams PR for , since November 2016 has been thus. Fake relationship kept going through PR, Vanity Fair article. Twitter accounts multiple. All the thousands of PR articles have depicted a perfect marvellous life. Perfect husband, perfect love, marriage, shortly after wedding of perfection followed by pregnancy, fauxmegnancy, that lasted a year, resulting in many a cat and mouse game, born, not born, where, boy? Girl? Name? Photos not photos. It’s craziness. Everyone is fatigued, imagine how Harry feels! He is wasting away and breaking apart right before our eyes. Whether you think him complicit or not, there is no denying, hair loss, weight loss, looks like he hasn’t slept, ratty shoes wrinkled clothes and now the obvious back pain. A caring spouse would not have stood there smugly grinning like a Cheshire Cat next to him while he was giving a speech on obviously agonizing pain.

“ This is a bloody tape diversion old thing “

LG speaking with HMTQ. He is giving her his well educated opinion based upon his knowledge of the intel.This lawsuit is a massive look 👀 here, don’t look 👀 there, nothing interesting to see over there , LOOK HERE ARMS WAVING LOOK 👀 HERE!! This lawsuit is a massive distraction, or diversion to use LG’s words from tape that is now safely secured by LG and in possession of ‘the grey men’. Reassuring her, helping her process all of this stuff happening that is so hard to process. The average person in a lifetime will never encounter a narcissist on this scale.

“A spitting Halloween 🎃 “

Oh my goodness!!!! We heard a week or two back the British satirical puppet television show Spitting Image, was returning. Check old episodes out on YouTube it’s brutally hilarious!Is this telling us Hallowe’en is the first episode? It spares satirizing no one, royals, politicians, celebrities etc etc. Oh my how fabulous this would be🤣😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣. Just IMAGINE the costumes each character would wear🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂Oh the wig, the eye lash glue🤣😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣. Oh l hope the CBC airs it!! Please share it please!

“ remember ‘remember, the 5th of Nov.”

from Wikipedia, to save my hands, typing more challenging today.

Festivities in Windsor Castle by Paul Sandby, c. 1776

Guy Fawkes Night, also known as Guy Fawkes Day, Bonfire Night and Firework Night, is an annual commemoration observed on 5 November, primarily in the United Kingdom. Its history begins with the events of 5 November 1605 O.S., when Guy Fawkes, a member of the Gunpowder Plot, was arrested while guarding explosives the plotters had placed beneath the House of Lords. Celebrating the fact that King James I had survived the attempt on his life, people lit bonfires around London; and months later, the introduction of the Observance of 5th November Actenforced an annual public day of thanksgiving for the plot’s failure.End of Wikipedia.

Ha ha! Guy Fawkes, BONFIRE NIGHT IN 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 SCOTLAND, This has come up before, l have explained it. In case you didn’t see that, this goes back centuries. This day is still commemorated each year, and in Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿, it’s fabulous fun. Everyone setting off fireworks 💥 hence the term bonfire night, drinks all around and just a really fun night. One time, the house down the road, l don’t think he planned it well, too close to the house and a rocket crashed into the roof 🤣🤣😂😂😂😂. No major damage, likely too much drink involved 🤣🤣😂😂.

“ Philip ‘ this year you give the Queen speech”

HMTQ, speaking to her beloved likely half jokingly and half seriously. The Queen, speaks in the third person, which means she doesn’t say l or me, she says we would like tea or you may leave us now, l hope that makes sense. So with this sentence structure, the way it’s worded, reads to me as if they are having a one on one conversation about the Annual Christmas message. However, it may also be, but l don’t think so, since the word Annual is used,the Reigning Monarch speaks at the official opening of parliament. Since the Courts ruled the proroguing of Parliament was not valid, they can just resume Parliament. I think this is referring to HMTQ Annual Christmas message. I am attempting as l do the riddles, to help the worldwide readership here understand with background information we may take for granted that everyone knows. Each year on Christmas Day, at noontime, we stop and watch HMTQ Annual Christmas message on the tv. It’s a major part of Christmas Day as l was growing up and still watch to this day. It’s about ten or fifteen minutes or so. She reviews the major things that have happened, along with family milestones, weddings, babies etc. She always looks fabulous, but when does she not? She’s amazing! Sounds like things are just hitting her tolerance level and she is leaning on her husband who has been at her side all these years she has reigned.

🎆🎇😱🇬🇧💩⚖️⚖️⚖️

Fireworks times two, Britain will be shocked and mortified at the shi* that will be exposed in this lawsuit! She made a very very very bad move in the game she has been playing, let me rephrase that, her backers instructed her to make a very very bad move. One wonders , the letter from ‘Harry’ says this has been many months in the making. HRC tweet occurred, just before the U.S.Open. Madam jumped a flight to NYC less than 48 hours later. Methinks that was the genesis of this lawsuit.she played nice, sort of, because her nice is still not nice!!! in SA so the press were manipulated so she could say they were sometimes nice sometimes unbearable. My sentence structure is horrid but l hope my points are coming across! So not months in the making but weeks. One needs public sentiments, in a good way in any PR war, and this is war that has moved to the Courts. Remember we heard months ago, rather obtusely that a nephew was encouraged by his uncle to consult his grandfathers mate, regarding the higher courts? I believe it was in a riddle. I wonder if Harry was anticipating this day and action might come and wanted to prepare himself by getting knowledge from a trusted, well advised court. I cannot recall the title of this person, but he is an old mate of PP. This decision is going to turn out the be the final blow-out battle that has been coming for two years. The Mail on Sunday will not back down, and they have their dossier, she has way more to lose than they do. The public will NOT stand for any more impingement on their freedom of speech. For example, just look what happens in the DM comments when comments don’t appear or are removed, sometimes people banned or doxxed. Online, in social media things of a similar nature have happened, to our dear 🐼also. People will resist, they will not stand for it. There has been such outrage over money wasted, privilege, disrespect towards HMTQ and the citizen of the U.K. and Commonwealth.

GBTQ.

GOD BLESS. THE QUEEN!! INDEED!!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you dear PG! How you can do these riddles is beyond me! Wow! Love it! They get more and more interesting all the time! Thank you, I know today is not a great day, so the effort you put into this for us all. Is so appreciated! You are the best! Thank you!🙏🏻💜💜💜

Skippy

Oct 3rd, 2019

——————

75:

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜WISHING YOU A GRAND WEEKEND 💜😊💜

MM Anon

MM ANON …… Meanwhile at CH…… A Family meeting’ o dear!!…… “ One is apoplectic with disappointment “… (two red faces)…… “ this isn’t a game of happy f%#@k families!!!”…… an atmospheric cut…… legs and tails …… They Aga successful …… in the brown Windsor soup……a green beret chum…… nutmeg begs…… happy Harry …… SS documentary’s doom

1255 hrs CST

Meanwhile at CH

CH is Clarence House, the former home of the Queen mum. Prince Charles and Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall now reside there and their offices are based there also. The clue reminds me of the saying, when life gets very hectic, meanwhile back at the ranch, meaning change of topic to get your mind off it, or in a movie it’s a complete change of scene. I hope that makes sense. I am desperately trying to make terms, words, phrases, for those who aren’t familiar, I WANT EVERYONE 😊😊😊😊WHO TAKES THE TIME TO READ MY INTERPRETATIONS TO BE ABLE TO UNDERSTAND! That’s extremely important to me. So interpretation, what’s going on at CH? Imagine the scurrying, the SA tour, amw on display like a medal 🎖 won at the Olympics, but not to his home country, a foreign one. Add to that madams lawsuit, and now Harry filing suit, it must be mayhem. Phone hacking must bring back memories of PC and Camilla whose naught naught private conversations were recorded and made public. They were mortified.They are balancing a dozen glass plates in the air , which one first?? Interesting Harry’s suit was filed last Friday but we are only learning of it now.

A Family meeting’ o dear!!

HMTQ has summoned everyone, this must be discussed and dealt with, l am speaking of madam, her lawsuit, but more pressing is the massive security breach allowing their phones to be hacked. I think a massive security overhaul and everyones mobiles, computers etc etc will need securing.I think decisions have been made in how to proceed, it may be explaining what will happen next. Some may say it’s an intervention, for Harry. An intervention, in the way l am meaning, happens when an addict is confronted by loved ones, usually with a therapist, often a surprise to the individual to be blunt in how they have been affected by the addicts behaviour, give them ultimatum, or choice, go to rehab or we severe or cut off all ties with you. I don’t think that way, l am still 100% behind Harry, he shrunken, depressed, in pain, and massively loyal to his granny HMTQ! I will not be dissuaded from my belief.

“ One is apoplectic with disappointment “

Let us review what apoplectic means, it is to be overcome with anger or extremely indignant, feeling or showing anger or being very annoyed at what is perceived as unfair treatment. Here we have the third person usage of the word One, that means it is HMTQ speaking. She is angry and very disappointed by something. I am certain this phone hacking, which was filed last Friday and made public today brings back memories of this happening before. She must be furious! Again many will say it’s about Harry. I am certain she has these feelings about where his initial poor choices and thinking he could manage madam on his own, and where this has led to.

(two red faces)

Harry and Rachel, is it possible those hacked phones and messages were of a very very VERY personal nature not with each other but others and that would be tres embarrassing. Your face reddens or blushes when embarrassed. I can only begin to imagine what they got on her from her phone. Harry, also, where was their security teams. Those phones should be firewalled up the wazoo. Did they learn NOTHING from the squidgy tapes with Diana or PC with Camilla wanting to be her you know the word!

“ this isn’t a game of happy f%#@k families!!!”

PP speaking, nothing is a game, to madam it’s a game , getting $$$££££€€£, using people, smug look when Harry was obviously so much in pain. This is the most serious game, by the way, have you ever read the story,The Most Dangerous Game ? It was mandatory read in my school curriculum, l can’t recall which grade.THATS A STORY! I can only, l have said this with almost every time l write about PP, imagine his rile, anger, fury even, at the goings on. A man’s man as we used to say, rugged, professional naval veteran, lifelong royal veteran, watching this all unfold. I am certain he has had his advice sought, especially from HMTQ, but he’s retired, he is unable to act, to do anything to stop this. I pray for them both.🙏🏻

an atmospheric cut

Atmosphere is defined as the envelope of gases surrounding the earth or another planet or , the one l think applies best here is the pervading tone or mood of a place or situation. I imagine the atmosphere at BP and with the royals, especially the Senior royals you could cut the tension with a knife. That’s a common saying , things get to intense people are almost frozen, cut it with a knife, literally not metaphorically yes.

legs and tails

Heads or tails are the usual when you flip a coin, here MM ANON has given us legs and tails. Well everyone since day one has had comment after comment about madams legs. Tails, well it does have a raunchy meaning, you either know or you don’t, this l am no sharing!

They Aga successful

William and Catherine met with the Aga Khan yesterday at the Aga Khan Centre in King’s Cross. This was to connect before their trip to Pakistan October 14 - 18,2019. The royal visit has been organized in co-operation with the High Commission of Pakistan. William and Kate met community leaders and business figures as well as musicians, chefs and artists from the Pakistani diaspora. Aga Khan is a title given to the Imam (leader) who serves as the spiritual leader of the Ismaili branch of Shiite Islam The current Aga Khan is 83-year-old Prince Shah Karim al-Husseini, the 49th Imam. The Imam role acts much like a royal dynasty, as the same family has passed down the title for the past 1,300 years. I recall reading in the paper his bloodline goes back to the Prophet Mohammed. He is a very revered and respected worldwide. Our PM and his family vacationed with him. They have known him since they were young when their father Pierre was our PM, Justin Trudeau now serves as his father did. This is all planning so that their visit builds on the success of Princess Diana’s trip years ago, in relationship building. This was a very important meeting and one that went exceedingly well. As usual, Catherine dressed completely appropriately, as she does! So this was a very successful prelude to the upcoming Royal tour to Pakistan 🇵🇰.

in the brown Windsor soup

What’s brown Windsor soup, lots of you are asking. It goes back to the Victorian era. Simply put, is a British meat soup that is said by when food was more scarce. Warm and hearty as it could be, warmed an empty belly. We might call it a sort of comfort food. The term brown Windsor soup became shorthand for horrible food and was used as a prop by comics in the post-war years. So if you’re in the soup, your rations are running low. Is madam broke? Or very nearly?

a green beret chum

What is a green beret some ask, was the official headdress of the British Commandos during WWII. It is still worn by members of the Royal Marines after passing the Commando Course and personnel from other units of the Royal Navy, Army and RAF who serve within Third Commando Brigade. and who have passed the All Arms Commando Course. The Duke of Sussex attended the revered has presented them with their green berets at Bickleigh the 42 Commando Royal course. Is Harry spending time with veteran chum to help him with his PTSD and the huge stress and strain he has been under? Only a veteran can truly understand the horrors and be entrusted to be there. I sincerely hope that is what this clue is, because Harry needs help in every facet of his being.l prayed 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 so long for him last night.

nutmeg begs

What is she begging for l wonder?🧐🤔🤔 Is she begging to rescind the lawsuit with the blow-up. Is she begging please please not to share the information obtained from her mobiles, l am sure she has several, after all how many twitter accounts does she have☺️☺️🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. Fearing the blowback of the MOS revealing what all they have kept schtum on all this time. I don’t think she thought through the ramifications of what she has done by filing suit. But, then again, thinking has never been her forté nor her job, her backers did and continue to do all the thinking, planning and ordering her actions.

happy Harry

This is a crazy clue because the only time l saw Harry happy, like for real happy, in the last two plus years, was the day he attended the Anzac Day service with Catherine. Now, within the last hour, word has been announced that he has filed lawsuits against The Sun and The Mirror and the owners for hacking his phone. This is way more serious that madams issue. There would, if in fact this happened, would have required very skilled intelligence people because of his status l a certain his mobile is very very secured OR IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN!! I cannot fathom what would make him happy, unless her begging is for a divorce and leaving , or just plain leaving. The only rabbit l can pull out of this hat, is that his mission is complete now that the SA and other African country visits are complete. He can now heal and resume some semblance of a life! I hope and pray l am correct!

SS documentary’s doom.

A whole lot of bang for your buck or should l say the backers buck eh Rachel?? One might even think they had two clients, the one that paid more wanted them to pretend to be her PR the while working against!, Dont cry for me Argentina, song from Evita! the play/film 🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 make that don’t cry for me Rachelina 🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂Since SS has come on board things have gone from worst to unimaginable worse🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. They’re not long for this world, likely they have already been sacked.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

1430 hrs CST Oct 4

Thank you PG! This looks interesting….fun times coming! Much appreciated

Oct 4th,

—————

76: Oct. 5

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon

MM ANON …… chocolate sundae …… don’t give up your day job …… single exit west …… a SMALL diversion … “ is he mine?” …… home alone ………… “ I fear for them Philip” …… Duty calls …… 🎼” you wore out your welcome with random precision “🎼……… “ we must talk Harry”……… jack and Jill went up the hill ……… “ it’s all on This memory stick.

October 5,2019 2030 hrs

chocolate sundae

What’s better than a chocolate sundae? Hmmmmm maybe a chocolate MOS(Mail on Sunday) 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁 MM ANON are you cleverly telling us that there will be oh so sweet tidbits of final exposure in the MOS and or other media? Chocolate may be colour, or maybe chocolate sauce was used in lieu of salad dressing in the tossed salads! My mind never knew these things before, madam has affected or infected all of us in filthy ways!

don’t give up your day job

This is an expression used when someone is doing something very very poorly like singing at the karaoke, or something like that. I am surmising here that madams performance in the video that allegedly exists is not Oscar worthy🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. What’s the difference, none of her others have been, especially the penultimate role as DOS,!!! I wish they had a spitting emoji!

single exit west

Is this suggesting that madam will do an exit stage left, as they used to say in the cartoons, and leave by herself and head west across the pond? Please go, we will all pitch in for the one way ticket, just go away!! Is she going to take archficial?? Who will care for him??🤣🤣😂

a SMALL diversion

Diversion, is a distraction, SMALL in all caps, that’s done to elevate that word. So what is the diversion and who is using and needing it? All roads lead to Rome , but in this case all roads lead to madam. She thought her lawsuit was the cats meow, she must have been thunderstruck, sorry AC/DC reference..see l am learning from MM ANON😁! But she must have been thunderstruck to learn Harry had filed suit a week ago bit more now, against hacking. Her proverbial goose is really cooked, as l have no doubt hacking was used to gather intel on him, William Catherine any of them, this plot has been in the planning for years! Her searching for Harry’s mobile so furiously, l am SOOOOOOO glad whoever sought that on film!!

“ is he mine?”

References back to Morocco when Harry made the comment “is it mine” Everyone in the room laughed except madam, l am sure she was seething with rage! So here we have is HE mine? So one wonders at what this means, is this a typo, or did l get it wrong? Nevertheless, the meaning and interpretation is the same.Those who were already sceptical took this as a major clue from Harry. The bulk of people thought he was just being silly. The line he said before that was something like Oh, you’re pregnant?? So we know it’s not Harry’s child, they were never intimate post wedding, grounds for annulment! MM ANON clue is telling us that we are going to shortly find this out, ok shortly is my wish but it’s all going to come out. If madam does a runner to the U.S. won’t that be interesting. She has no idea what her backers are really capable of, she should be afraid very afraid of who she’s tethered to and how much information she knows!

home alone

Poor archficial, all alone, outlived his usefulness. But madam is home alone or not depending whose sofa she’s sleeping on or staying with. Harry is back to Not Cot with his dog, l am sure his dog will give him a royal welcoming. Those of you who have dogs know how therapeutic they can be.

“ I fear for them Philip”

HMTQ sharing concerns for Duke and Duchess of Cambridge as they take on this high risk Royal tour of Pakistan. There are many, including sugars who would delight with glee if something untoward would occur. Security will be very very very tight, the outlay of the tour states it will be their most complex tour yet. The itinerary will be kept close at the best as to where they are visiting specifically etc etc, it will be a pure military and RPO nightmare to keep them safe. They , on the other hand will represent HMTQ with aplomb, they will be relaxed or appear so and l foresee thus being a hugely successful Royal tour. We must pray for all involved!🙏🏻

Duty calls. Harry has several appearances , as Prince Harry on October 10,2019 international Mental Health Day. Back to duty he goes, he , you can never dissuade me , is 100% loyal to HMTQ. He will resume his duties. I hope in the interim there has been time to debrief, talk about what happened in the field upon return to home base . I have led many debriefings, they take place in many firms, people of crimes, military after a tour of duty, firemen or police officers after a bad scene or officer involved shooting, healthcare staff after assault or violent incident etc etc you get it. 🎼” you wore out your welcome with random precision “🎼

MM ANON returns to Pink Floyd, Shine On You Crazy Diamond. Song someone wanting it all willing to do anything, end up dark and exposed by the light. This is a marvellous lyric to describe the situation that is now happening? HOW DO YOU DO THIS MM ANON? YOU’RE BEYOND BRILLIANT! I THINK WRITING THESE RIDDLES FAR JARDER THAN SOLVING, I TAKE MY HAT OFF TO YOU! I AM WRITING UPPERCASE BECAUSE I WANT TO RESPECT HER AND HAVE HER TAKE NOTICE.

we must talk Harry”

HMTQ, His attorney, PC, PW or all talk about what is really going on, make a plan and figure out what the next step should be. I think the most important thing is, talk about how he is appearing, depressed, thin, stressed and in agony with his back. I am certain they are all worried sick at the toll this has taken on him in every way as are many of us.

jack and Jill went up the hill

Old child’s nursery rhyme it goes Jack and Jill ran up the hill to fetch a pail of water , Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after.

Isn’t this a perfect description of where our Harry is at with a lot of people? He paired up with this Jill, sorry to all the Jill’s that read this, nothing personal, and since then it’s been one long for lack of better word sh** show of lack of respect for HMTQ, merch fest, etc etc. Harry’s crown or reputation is in tatters and now the media are furious by his statement, his altercation with Rhiannon Mills of Sky news and on and on. The ultimate fall, for her, is coming. She will tumble lower than low once the dossier on her is in the public realm and the alleged video!! I am waiting with bated breath for the MOS tomorrow!!

“ it’s all on This memory stick.

Yep everything about her, what she’s done, the backers, her calls back and forth with them, emails, videos, her yachting history, the lost years, the ‘Markle family’ everything is on this memory stick and LG has and it will be put to use. They have her, she got cocky in SA and invaded her own privasy☺️🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂🤣🤣. All laughs aside this has been a deadly serious plot to bring down the entire BRF! Justice is coming, the people of the U.K. and Commonwealth who aren’t taking the time to look beneath and take PR as truth will be shocked into disbelief. The process of truth telling will be a measured approach to be sure.

I am in awe of you two ladies! Wow! You speak the same “language”…..this again is amazing, and very informative…things are coming…fantastic! So appreciated! Thank you, dear PG and MM Anon!💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

gstqaobc

Thank you dearest MM ANON for the absolute honour and privilege of interpreting or at least attempting to, your riddles. 💜🐼💜🙏🏻☺️🐼☺️ Thank you for doing me the continued honour of allowing me to do my interpretations of MM ANON’s brilliant riddles and for posting my work! This has been so good for my brain 🧠 and exercising my. Rita al thinking skills! Let this be my small contribution to your blog and to being aTruth Seeker as Christ calls me to be. GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

———————

[letspurpletogether]

Death Gods Only Eat Apples || 01

Summary: You are the youngest and best behaviorist at the South Korean National Police Agency, but because of a recent case that earned you your first kill, you are forced to take a leave. However, a streak of recent, inexplicable deaths among Seoul´s worst criminals drags you straight back to the precinct to pursue the culprit to whom the people are referring to as Kira.

Pairings: Jungkook x reader, Seokjin x reader, Namjoon x reader.

Genre: Death Note AU, thriller, mystery, drama, romance, crime, angst.

Word count: 13.9k

Warnings: foul language, just your average crime-police drama, violence, blood, death.

You’ve never killed anyone before.

Right when you pull the trigger, you know it has to be done. You have to take the shot or an innocent woman is going to die. And you just can’t let that happen.

Your eyes find the woman’s as she is being held against her will, an arm around her neck. She screams. Her nails dig into her attacker’s flesh, but they do very little damage. He holds the gun against her head, his eyes red with madness, a vein protruding from his forehead as he warns you not to come any closer. ‘Or I’ll fucking paint this walls with her brains! I swear!’

The woman starts crying. ‘Please…’

But he just tightens his grip on her neck and starts back away towards the emergency exit. Your hands are shaking, you can’t let him get away, not after everything he’d done.

Backup is not here yet.

It’s just you and him.

The woman struggles for air, she bites and scratches him like a caged animal. She manages to draw blood as he reaches for the doorknob. He curses and, for a brief moment, the woman has a chance to escape. She slips from his grip and runs in your direction. Yet, halfway through her knees give in and she stumbles to the floor.

Her disheveled form extends a hand to you. And you notice as the man seems to struggle to open the door. You see a chance now. A struck of luck on your favor, it seems. The door is locked. He has no way out and you take the opportunity to rush forward and to try and restrain him. However, the moment he realizes this he curses and aims his gun at the woman’s back.

He gives you no choice now.

You pull the trigger.

The shot echoes through the brick walls.

And just like that, his limp body hits the ground.

‘Y/N-ssi, are you okay?’, that voice drags you out of your thoughts. You look up to see your partner’s concerned face in the desk in front of yours.

A sigh escapes from your lips. This thing again.

It’s been over 72 hours and you still catch yourself drifting back to that night. The night of your first kill. You’ve taken a life, nothing is going to change that. A young man barely older than your own brother was now dead by your hand. Yes, he was a criminal, you don’t go around shooting innocent people in the chest. He’d raped and killed four middle-school girls, he was going to receive the death penalty, anyway. But holding onto that to justify yourself doesn’t feel right. Deep down you still wonder if there wasn’t anything else you could’ve done. You didn’t have to kill him… Did you?

‘Hey, I’m starting to worry now’, Seokjin’s voice again. ‘Should I call doctor Park or something?’. You shake your head.

‘I’m okay’, you lie. ‘I spaced out’.

‘I can see that. Is the reason that bothers me’.

Seokjin was a very gentle and laid-back person. Even when you were his junior, he treated you as if you two were the same age. You weren’t sure why he did it, he was not like that with the other officers at the station.

‘It’s my head, not yours. Leave me alone’, you snap back. Jin scoffs.

‘You wish you meant that’.

You sigh and glance at the letter in your hands.

You had just been given an order to take a couple of days off because Human Resources thought you weren’t fit for the field right now. Although they were right, you didn’t want to take days off, work was all you had to keep you distracted, to keep you from thinking about that man over and over again. Closing your eyes is all it takes for you to see his vacant eyes staring at you again. Blood dripping from his lips, his body slowly falling to the ground.

Shit. You dig your nails into the armrest of your chair and take a deep breath. Your other hand, crumbles the letter into a paper ball. As a police officer it is kind of expected of you to shoot criminals if you have too, if the situation calls for it. And it did… Maybe you just weren’t expecting to wound him fatally. Geum San, wanted for armed robbery, domestic violence, rape and murder. He was only twenty years old…

‘How can this world be so fucked up that a kid like him turns out to be a monster?’ you say out loud, more to yourself than for Jin to hear. Still he replies.

‘You’re going about that Geum San case again, huh?’

‘I don’t understand why I can’t stop thinking about it’

‘The first is always the hardest’, Seokjin leans back in his chair, his arms fold over his broad chest and he shrugs. ‘I still remember mine, the guy’s face, the blood, the smell… everything’.

‘Does it ever go away?’

‘No. But it gets easier…’ he gives you a soft smile. ‘Trust me’.

You nod and check your silver wristwatch for the time. It’s almost ten, any other night the precinct would be boiling with people. But for some reason today is a quiet one. An anguished sigh escapes your lips and you lay your head down on your desk. What are you going to do now?

That’s when you feel the warmth of a palm softly touching your shoulder. ‘Wanna grab a drink?’, Seokjin asks. ‘You look like you could use one, Y/N’.

Your desk is almost drowned in paperwork you hadn’t finished but for which you definitely were not in the right mindset now. You have no one waiting for you at home since your brother left this morning for Daegu to visit your mother at the nursing home. You two live alone, and you really don’t want to arrive to an empty apartment after this notice. So yeah… A drink sounded nice.

You sit up straight, 'I would like that’.

Seokjin stands up in an energetic gesture. A bright smile illuminates his handsome face. 'Great! I know just the fanciest of places!’

The place isn’t exactly fancy, but it is cosy. And it is conveniently close to your apartment complex. There is a big red sign at the entrance that reads “Yonosuke’s Table”. It is one of those japanese-themed izakayas, very traditional looking, with shoji-style sliding doors and washi lanterns. You have never been here before, but it looks like they probably sell cheap soju. A faint smell of sugar, soy sauce and mirin welcomes you at the door. Your stomach growls so loud that Seokjin by your side hears it too and laughs.

'We can grab something to eat as well’, he says and you cheeks turned bright red. 'The dumplings here are the best’.

You hadn’t been eaten well lately. Your appetite had been shining for its absence in the past couple of days. You can’t really explain why is this being so hard for you. It’s like a sickness has taken over your body. You can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t even breathe without feeling the smell of gunpowder and blood in your hands. Whenever you close your eyes, Geum San’s vacant eyes are staring back at you. Blood dripping from his lips, his body slowly falling to the ground as the red stain on his chest expanded over his white shirt. Maybe it’s because he was the same age as your baby brother.

You sigh. And take Jin’s offer, gladly.

You go in and take a seat by the bar.

The chef is an middle-aged man dressed in a blue yukata and a white hat on his head, he reminds you of those hibachi chefs in Itaewon.He welcomes you with an energetic ‘irasshaimasen’ in a heavy Busan accent. A handsome young man walks to your table right away. By the black apron tied around his small waist you figure he must be the waiter.

'Welcome, Jin-hyung’, he says. His lips stretch in a bunny-like smile.

You take a moment to look at him properly. His light brown hair was parted to the side, and a pair of silver hoop earrings hang from his ears. Something in his face seems familiar, though you can’t really put your finger in it. And by the way Seokjin greets him back, they haven’t just met.

'Ggukie! Long time no see. How’s school going?’ Your partner smiles.

'School is great, thank you’. he replies and then glances your way.

His dark eyes scan your face, with one eyebrow cocked. Something about the way he looks at you makes you uneasy in an instant. Like he isn’t looking a you directly but to something past you.You suppress your urge to check if there’s actually something else behind you apart from the concrete wall.

Seokjin doesn’t miss a beat as he places a hand on your shoulder. ‘Oh, this is Y/N, a colleague from work’, the young man bows shortly at you, still with that suspicious look in his eyes. ‘Y/N, this is Jungkook-ah, he’s the chief’s son’.

You force yourself to smile, and try inadvertently to remove Jin’s hand from you. You’ve known Seokjin for years, but you’ve never been confortable with people touching you so easily in public.

'So you are Jungkook, your father is always talking about you’, you lie. You don’t know why you do it, perhaps it is your way to be nice to him. Maybe is you trying to escape from your thoughts through some meaningless small talk. The truth is the chief never talks about his family, not since his wife passed away under unknown circumstances. At least that is what the girl from IT, Seulgi, confided you once during a case.

The rumor was his wife had been killed as retaliation from some arrest involving the mob. Seokjin probably knows all about it, but for some reason you would rather not ask.

Jungkook’s gentle features harden at your words, disappearing into an fake smile.

‘Does he, now…’, he mutters. His tone is bitter, and you notice how he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

You clear your throat, completely aware of what you just did. ‘Anyway. It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook’. And the brat doesn’t reply. Instead, he shifts his gaze back to Seokjin as if you don’t exist.

‘What can I get you, hyung?’

'A bottle of soju’, Seokjin says, and turns to you. 'Oh! and an order of dumplings, you know how I like them’.

'Of course’, Jungkook scribbles the order down in a small notepad.

He leaves but comes back right away with the bottle and two cups. He puts them down in the table. And so your eyes can’t help but follow the movement of his hands, and accidentally wander down the muscles of his tanned arms. You take a curious look at the veins that run along his forearms and the way his biceps flex with each movement. Oh, he works out, alright. You can even see the outline of what looks like a defined chest through his white cotton t-shirt. Not bad for a brat, you think and for a brief second your eyes meet.

He gives you a questioning look, and you are quickly to look away as if nothing happened. You really don’t want to be caught checking out your own boss’ son. A small scoff leaves Jungkook’s lips, and soon he leaves again without saying a word.

Seokjin busies himself with setting the drinks so thankfully he doesn’t notice the flush on your cheeks.

‘So he’s the chief’s son, huh? He doesn’t look like his father at all’, you say, trying to brush off the feeling of awkwardness that has built up in your stomach.

‘Of course, he does. He just needs to grow a moustache’. Seokjin laughs at your disgusted face.‘Okay. Maybe not, but he’s very smart like his father’. He smiles and hands you the cup.

‘Thanks…’, You bring it your lips and drink it in one fell swoop. Seokjin chuckles.

‘Thirsty, are we?’

‘You have no idea’

‘Here, have another’, he says as he fills your cup again. He hasn’t touch his yet.

‘If I didn’t know you any better I would think you’re trying to get me drunk’.

‘Maybe I am’, Seokjin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively stealing a laugh from you.

‘Give me that’ you take the drink and chug it down, ignoring the burning aftertaste down your throat. ‘God, I really needed this’. Your partner looks at you and laughs.

‘Glad I could help’.

For a moment, a warm feeling invades you and it’s definitely not the soju. You and Seokjin have been working side by side since your first day at the force. He was assigned by Captain Bang as your supervising officer when you came fresh out of the Police Academy. Ever since, you’ve worked your cases together. You are not the social butterfly your he is, you know you have a temper and you know you are difficult to deal with. Everyone back at the precinct can and will agree on that if asked. To this day you still wonder why Seokjin chose to stay by your side when he could have easily been promoted to a different division or have a partner with his experience on the field. He just need to ask Captain Bang and he wouldn’t say no to him. No one would ever say no to Kim Seokjin.

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips, and you reach out to place your hand on his arm. This is very unlike you, but the moment feels right. There’s something you know, though. You have one friend, and his name is Kim Seokjin.

‘Thank you, sunbae’.

He glances confused at your hand, and when the words slip from your mouth he remains quiet, staring at you with his lips puckered. His eyes run across your face, like he’s trying to guess if you’re being serious or not. For a brief moment they land on your lips but then he burst into giggles.

‘Jesus, are you drunk already?! You are seriously out of shape here, Y/N’, he pats your hand gently. You roll your eyes.

‘I’m never calling you that again, you dick’, you remove your hand and glare at him. Seokjin just laughs even more, clapping his hands together.

‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry! You took me by surprise, you’ve never called me sunbae before’, he says and brings the little cup to his lips. ‘Look, I’ll have a drink on you now, okay?’, He chugs it down and give you an amused grin like he’s saying ‘ta-da!’.

‘So… about the chief’s son’, you scan the room for Jungkook’s figure. You find him smiling, while he serves an elderly couple a few tables away. ‘You seem quite close. I thought the chief wasn’t exactly the social type’

‘He isn’t. I met him because of a case. Do you remember that fraud case from a couple of years ago, right?’ you nod. ‘Well, the chief and Sejin-sunbaenim were asked to participate and they brought me along because by that time Sunbaenim was my supervising officer…’, Seokjin refills his shot glass first, then yours. ‘We’d been staying at the precinct for three days in a row, so Jungkook came by to give his father a change of clothes and he overheard us talking about the case. Then he came up with a brilliant suggestion about how to catch the suspect and it worked. I don’t have the details, but the leading officer, Mr. Bang decided to make him a civilian consultant for the NPA.’

‘Wow, are you serious?’, you raise your eyebrows. He is way too young to be a civilian consultant, so he must be some kind of genius for the higher ups to even consider a kid his age. ‘But I’ve never seen him down at the station before’.

Jin shrugs. ‘That’s because Jungkook-ah refused to join the NPA even if it was as a consultant. He said he was not interested in police work’

‘Why not?’

A tray of dumplings lands with a thud in front of you. You jump in your seat, startled and raise your head to meet Jungkook’s unamused glare.

‘Because my father let my mother die thanks to his job.’, he scowls. His voice is as cold as his eyes when he looks at you. ‘Do you have another question, detective?’

‘Jungkook…’, Seokjin gives him reprimanded look.

'It’s okay, Jin’, you say and then glance at Jungkook again, trying to sound diplomatic. ’ I didn’t mean to pry’.

Jungkook presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek. ‘Enjoy your food’, he says. Then he leaves.

Seokjin is quick to defend him. 'Don’t take it personal, maybe he just had a bad day’, he says with an apologetic smile. You roll your eyes. 'Then that makes two of us’.

Seokjin is a hell of a talker, so he does most of it. As the night progresses, he tells you about his life in the Academy, about his older brother who is going to become a father soon, about his eight cousins and his childhood in his grandparents’ beach house in Jeju. You discuss the summer weather and the latest appointment of Bae Joohyun as head-assistant of the Crime Investigation Bureau. Maybe it is the alcohol kicking in, but by the time you reach that specific topic, you are being way too loud. You are not usually like this, however Joohyun just brings that out of you. You two have your history and it isn’t pretty. Besides... Nobody is happy about that appointment anyway. She is too young and inexperienced for the job. But since her uncle is the director of the NPA, no one dares to say anything against it—At least not out loud. Everyone at the Bureau knows that position belonged to Chief Jeon, he’s earned it through years of being one of the finest detectives in the force. But director Bae goes and overlooks all of it just to favour his niece, that crook.

‘You know? All the chief said about it was that we all should just accept it, and keep doing our jobs’, You slam a hand against the table. ‘He didn’t even seem upset! I don’t get it! He deserved the job…’ Seokjin shrugs. ‘That’s the way the Chief is. He’s like a wise monkey’. You nod in agreement. Always strict, formal and collected, that is the chief you know. With a gleam of something else in his eyes, something dangerous… And you learned today that his son has the same look in his eyes. Like a calm ocean that awaits for the right storm to raise…

Or maybe you have had enough alcohol for one night.

After a friendly competition, one bottle becomes two, and two becomes three and a couple of beers. Seokjin is all bad jokes and giggles as he tries to impress you with his drinking tricks. The dumplings are as good as he promised and he suggests ordering some rolls as well. You keep drinking, and eating, until you are the only customers left inside.

Seokjin’s almost passed out on the table, his head between his arms, his eyes puffy, his cheeks all red. And he still dared to say you were out of shape. You glance at the seven empty bottles of soju in front of you.

‘I guess we should call it a night’, Seokjin snores in response triggering a lazy laugh from you. You check your wrist watch. Jesus… It isn’t even midnight yet.

‘We are hopeless…’ you laughed again and drink what’s left from your second bottle of sapporo, before deciding to wake him up. 'Hey, Seokjinie… time to go’

'Hn…’

'Kim Seokjin, wake up’, you slap his head and he springs back up in his seat.

'This is the police wait-!’ he exclaims still half asleep. One eye open and the other closed, and a trail of saliva going down from the corner of his mouth. 'What?’

'You’re drunk, go home’, you say and he nods, starting to fall asleep again. 'Hey!’

'Ah! Yes, yes… home’

'Get up, I’m going to get you a cab’, yoy stand up and reach for him, pulling him up from his jacket suit to make him stand up. He stumbles over the table but you manage to keep him on his feet until you reach the door and you stop a taxi. 'Take him here and make sure he gets inside’, you hand the driver a paper with Seokjin’s address and push your drunken partner inside the car.

'Thank you for going out with me, Y/N’, Seokjin mumbles.

'This wasn’t a date’.

'Yes, it was’, he gives you a rather goofy grin so yo can’t help but smile back.

‘Get some rest’, you close the car’s door and watch it drive away. When you back inside to gather your things, you approach the chef by the bar. ’Ahjussi, how much is it?’, you ask. He waves a hand in the air.

'Don’t worry, I already put it on his tab’.

'But, I-’

'A lady shouldn’t pay when a man invites her’, he says with an indulgent smile. Well, you are not going to complain. You give him a small bow.

'I’ll be going then. Thank you for the food’

'Oh, lady, wait’, you stop and turn around just in time to see the ahjussi gesturing something to Jungkook who is minding his own things cleaning the bar. Whatever he says, the boy doesn’t like it.

He rolls his eyes before taking off his apron and toss it next to the wet cloth he was using to clean. But the ahjussi smiles at you. 'It’s too late for a pretty lady to walk alone, Jungkookie will escort you home’.

'That’s not necessary, sir. I’m-’

'I insist, please’, the worried look he gives you chastises any protest you might have.

Although you could remind him that you are a police officer and his worries have no basis whatsoever, you don’t want the bother. It’s late, and you want to go home. ‘…Okay’. He smiles at you warmly.

After a few minutes, Jungkook comes out from the back room wearing a checkered shirt, sleeves rolled up at his elbows and a pair of bluejeans. His body language says it all: hands in his pockets, eyes narrowed and chin slightly raised. He isn’t happy about having to escort you home.

'Let’s go’, he says without looking at you. He just walks pass where you are standing and stops by the door. 'What are you waiting for?’

You take a deep sigh.

You’ve been walking for about five minutes and neither of you has said a single word. There is still a few blocks to go before you arrived, and you can’t stand that awkward silence any longer.

'So, Jungkook-ah…’, you try to sound friendlier, 'Are you a student?’

He scoffs. 'Why? Do I look like a mediocre man than can’t do anything better with his life than to work as a waiter in an underrated izakaya?’ His tone is sarcastic. He is such a child if he is still mad at you for asking Seokjin about him. How immature, you scowl at him.

'That’s not what I meant’

'Yes, I am a student’, he says, as if your question is the stupidest thing he’s ever heard.

'Good for you’, you reply sharply.

The silence settles between you two again. Your footsteps against the pavement is all that is to be heard along with the occasional car that passes by. But it doesn’t take much longer for Jungkook to break the silence.

’Hyungnim is a good guy, make sure you don’t hurt him’

You raise an eyebrow. 'Excuse me?’

‘You heard me’. He doesn’t glance your way one time. He just keeps talking with his chin held high like the pretentious little prick you realise he is. 'You look like the kind of woman who doesn’t cope with the girlfriend thing’

You stop on your tracks and turn around to face him.

'What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

'I’m just warning you, because hyung likes you a lot’, he says, ignoring your previous question. 'You are Y/N, right? He talks about you a lot when he comes by the bar.’

'We are just friends. Besides, that’s none of your damn business!’, you snap at him and quickly resumed your walk.

Jungkook follows a few steps behind.

'It’s nothing personal, I just happen to know your type, Y/N’, he speaks again and you swear you are about to hit him in that pretty face of his. He doesn’t even use the honorifics and you hate the way your name sounds in his lips. 'Women who are too comfortable with the attention they get to actually be serious about someone’.

'This is unbelievable’, You mumble under your breath and turn around to face him. Your sudden move brings his steps to a halt. You note he’s tall, maybe taller than Seokjin himself. 'Listen, kid. You don’t know me enough to get to share an opinion about how I am! I don’t care if you are the chief’s son, you can stick your opinions up your ass!’

Jungkook lets out a conceited chuckle and shakes his head like he finds your word hilarious.

'Do you plan on becoming hyung’s girlfriend or not?’, he bluntly asks. You don’t reply, though. It’s not worth it. He is not worth it. He’s been nothing but childish and downright annoying. Jungkook takes your lack of answer as a negative and gives you a condescending look. ‘That’s my point’

'So what? Am I a bad woman just for not being interested in a guy that’s into me?’

'Not for that. For using him, and abuse his attentions to get distracted’

'That’s it! I don’t know what I did to deserve this attitude, but I’m sick of you’, you glare at him with all your might. 'I’m leaving. And you… you can go and fuck yourself’

You start walking away when his voice manages to stop you again.

'The truth hurts, doesn’t it?’

Fuck it. You turn on your heels and hold his gaze.

'You want truth, huh?’ You take a step closer. ‘How about you go deal with your daddy issues. Then we can talk’.

Jungkook’s eyes go wide with indignation. He stammers like his tongue got caught in between his teeth. 'Apologize!’ He manages to bark at you.

You huff. ’You apologize first’. When Jungkook doesn’t say a word. You take it as your cue to finally leave. 'Good night, Jungkook’.

You turn on your heels and leave for good. This time he doesn’t follow you.

That conversation was such a waste of time and energy. As if you have to explain yourself to a complete stranger. How old could he be? 18? 19? You are still his senior by at least four years, who does he think he is to talk to you in banmal and with no honorifics.

You reach the building complex where you live in no time. You notice the weather is actually nice as you take the outdoor stairs to the third floor. The sky is clear and a full moon shines brightly above. You take a moment to appreciate the quietness of the night. If only everything could be as simple as this.

A flash of red and blue paints the building grey walls when a police vehicle rushes pass the street. The echo of its siren brings back more memories from that night.

You are alone next to Geum San’s body. The woman, Ahn Hyejin has passed out in the floor and you try to make her regain consciousness. Your hands are sweaty, you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins making your heart race desperately.

‘What are you doing?’

Your brother’s voice halts you out of your thoughts. You must have been so far gone that you missed him opening the door. He is home earlier, you thought he wouldn’t be arriving until tomorrow morning. You take a moment to look at him. You try to focus on the silver earrings dangling from his ears, on his messy brown hair, on how much like a little boy he looks with that blue oversized sweater on.

You are home.

‘I was just…’, you gesture vaguely around. ‘you know, admiring the view’.

Taehyung scowls at you and steps back so you can get inside. You take off your shoes the moment you set foot on your apartment and toss them next to the door, not even bothering placing them correctly on the shoe rack.

‘Did you drink?’, he asks. You shrug.

‘Yeah, I had a few beers with Seokjin’, you take of your suit jacket and toss it on the couch on your way to the kitchen. Taehyung follows you.

‘What about work?’

‘Since when do you want to know about my day?’ you eye him through the corner of your eye while you pour yourself a glass of water.

‘Since you just went out to get drunk with a man’. You stop what you are doing and move your gaze to Taehyung.

You don’t like his tone anymore than his posture. His arms crossed over his chest, hands hidden from your view and his head slightly tilted to the side. He’s upset, but he’s holding something back. Still, you really don’t want to deal with whatever this is right now. You are exhausted and your bed is calling for you.

‘First of all, I’m not drunk’, you walk out of the kitchen and head for you room without looking his way. ‘Second, what I do with my time is my business not yours’.

You hear him let out a sarcastic laugh.‘You’re such an hypocrite, Y/N…’

That leaves you stone cold. You slowly turn around and give him a questioning look. Where the hell is all this attitude coming from? ‘What did you say?’

Taehyung shuffles his weight from one feet to another and shakes his head in disapproval.

‘You told me you couldn’t come with me to visit mom because you were busy with work!’, he snaps. ‘Does your work include having a few beers with some dude now?!’

‘Oh my God I was with Seokjin, Taehyung! Not some dude! What the hell?!’, you shout back. You just can’t believe this. What a fucking day you’ve had. ‘Listen, I was already yelled at tonight by a bratty teenager for my life choices, I’m not going to stay hear and listen to another one’.

You motion to open the door, but Taehyung’s words stops you again. He’s clearly not going to let this die tonight. ‘Yeah, it’s not like you listen to me anyway!’ You take a deep breath.

You head has begun to hurt. ‘Can’t we not do this now?’, you plead.

Taehyung growls in frustration, smacking his hands on his thighs. He paces around the hallway like he’s trying to collect his thoughts, but finally gives up.His eyes meet yours and you can no longer see anger in his features. His lips are slightly tugged down, and his brow is furrowed. 'Why are you like this, noona?’

‘Like what?’

He takes a step closer. ‘Tell me something’, his tone is calmer than before. ‘When was the last time you visited our mother in that horrid place you put her in, huh?. A sharp pain pierces through your temples and weights heavy around your left eye.

‘I don’t have to explain myself to you, Taehyung. You know damn well that it wasn’t my decision alone, and frankly I don’t know where the fuck is this coming from..’, He simply stares back at you, not saying a word. ‘All because I didn’t skip my job, which by the way is paying for your tuition, to get on a fucking train to Daegu and visit a sick woman that can’t even recognize her own daughter’s face?!’

You feel something warm going down your cheek so you bring up a hand to inspect. The tips of your fingers get wet and you realize you are crying. Another twinge of pain drills into your head and you close your eyes to take a deep breath.

Taehyung calls your name but you raise a hand on the air to stop him from coming any closer. ‘Just leave me alone…’, you manage to utter before disappearing inside your bedroom. You kick the door close behind you and let yourself fall on the bed.

You don’t even bother to change your clothes. It’s like your head is going to explode in pieces if you do as much as moving your feet.

You don’t want to think about your mother.

You don’t want to think about all those days you spent glued to her hospital bed hoping she would wake up. Hoping you could turn back time and tell her you were fine that day, so that she wouldn’t leave her house to see you. That way the bullet would have never reached her. She would still be the one you remember and not this helpless excuse of a person incapable of control her own sphincters.

It was your fault you mother ended up in such humiliating state. You had no right to visit her, you couldn’t even gather the courage to admit to yourself how much you missed her scent. The mother you knew is dead, you killed her too.

Like you killed Geum San.

Who is going to be your next victim?

Your alarm goes off at six just like every other day. Your headache is gone, but it threatens to surface again when you remember you are off duty for the next seven days.

What are you supposed to do with all this free time? You could barely manage to keep it together when you were busy with cases, now they’ve taken away the only thing that gives your life a sense of purpose.

You shift uncomfortable between your sheets and doze off another two hours until you hear someone opens your door.

‘Why are you still in bed? Is thursday’

You groan and turn around on the bed to face away from him. ‘Leave me alone, Taehyung’

‘What is wrong with you?’

You take a deep breath and decide to get up. This was going to happen sooner or later, your brother would get curious at why you, a workaholic, was skipping work.

Taehyung is ready for his classes. His hair’s still wet from the shower and you can smell his cologne all the way from there. He stares at you like he’s a judge and is waiting for you to present your first witness.

‘I’m suspended’.

He blinks. For a second you doubt if he actually heard you. It takes him a moment, but he reacts.

‘What?’

‘I said I was-’

‘No, that I get.’, he steps inside and takes a seat next to you in the bed. ‘What I don’t get is why. Did something happened?’. Now he looks genuinely concerned.

You shake your head.

‘I just got this letter saying I should take a few days off for my health’.

‘Why…? What’s wrong? Are you sick?’

‘No, I’m- I’m fine…’

‘Is this because that guy you killed?’, Your faces gives you away. He presses his lips together and gives you a little disapproving look. ‘Why are you like this?’

'Like what?’ Taehyung rolls his eyes.

'That guy was a criminal. You did this world a favor, Y/N’.

‘Maybe…’, You sigh. ‘Aish… This world is fucked up’. Taehyung nods in agreement. ‘It’s just…’, your brother looks at you and you can see the concern in his brown eyes ‘I always thought it would be much simpler, you know’

'What would?’

'To kill a somebody’.Taehyung doesn’t say a word. You run a hand through your mess of a hair and sigh. ‘I’m going back to bed, be good…’, Taehyung clicks his tongue with a look of disapproval in his eyes. You roll your eyes ‘What is it now?’

‘I’m sorry, Y/N. But look at you…!’, he shakes his head. ‘You’re beating yourself up over a worthless criminal! He was a beast who needed to be put down. He deserved worse that what you gave him. Have you forgotten what he did to those little girls? Their families are now seeing you as their heroine. You brought justice and closure to their lives… Why is it that is stopping you from seeing the reality of things?’

The reality of things?

You raise both eyebrows. The reality of things was that you had shot a person to death. Period.

‘Killing a killer has never actually reduced the number of killers in this world, has it?’, you say back

Taehyung’s eyes narrow with a vexed expression and then he looks away.

‘Then it’s easy…’, he stands up and walks to the door. ‘You’ll have to kill another one. Don’t you, noona?’.

Your stomach ties in knots.

Killing was wrong, it didn’t matter whether the victim was a heinous criminal or a charitable soul. If one person started taking justice by its own hands, what could stop everyone else to start doing the same thing? It would be madness and chaos. After all, what was justice but a polite term people used when what they actually meant was vengeance.

A terrifying thought send shivers down your spine. Was vengeance something your brother has in mind? You look up at him, but you are unable to find your words. So when no sound comes out, Taehyung lets himself out shutting the door closed behind him.

You react a moment too late. He’s already left the apartment when your phone starts ringing. You grab it from the night stand where you left it.

You are surprise by seeing Chief Jeon’s name on the screen, and press the green button immediately. You’ll deal with Taehyung later.

‘Morning, sir. To what do I owe your call?’

‘I know Bang got you suspended you from the field, Y/N. But I need you to come to the precinct now’.

‘Why? What happened?’.

‘I have not time to explain it by phone. Just get here’, and he hangs up.

Sometimes you forget how much you hate public transportation. Being stuffed inside a worm-looking wagon, with people’s elbows or suitcases piercing your sides that morning reminds you just that. Being suspended meant you can’t drive the station vehicles either, and you’d never really bother buying a car of your own… which you are very much regretting now. This is the only way you have left to move around the city. And since your boss decided to call for you right before the rush hour started, getting there on time in a cab would’ve been like expecting snow in this humid summer. You can’t do anything but endure the ride until you finally reach the Gangnam station.

The streets are flooded with people as you step out of the little crystal dome that covers the entryway to the underground station. The sky is cloudy and the air holds certain humidity that makes you wonder if it is going to rain anytime soon. The walk to the precinct is just fifteen minutes, but that’s all it takes for a thin layer of sweat to cover your forehead by the time you reach the main building.

You can feel the fabric of your blouse sticking to your sides. However, the moment you step inside the facility the familiar smell of stale coffee and rusty cooper desks makes all the discomforts disappear. Your heart jumps with excitement. Even if you are not officially back, having something to do with your morning that involves police work is such a relief.

Being busy keeps your mind from thinking nonsense. Being busy is a good thing.

You stroll pass the desk captain’s booth and give him the mandatory greeting, you don’t bother bowing all the way down for this man. Considering that among the people you can’t call your fans, captain Lee Sunho takes very much the first place. You have all the intention to walk past him without any trouble, but deep down you know you’re never that lucky. He eyes you suspiciously and motions you to come closer with one finger like you are some stray dog.

You’ve hated his condescending attitude towards you and all the the female officers since your first day at the precinct and when he’d asked you to fetch him coffee from the shop across the street. The innocent you from back then genuinely though he had mistaken you for a new secretary since he’d never seen you before, so you kindly explained to him you were the new addition to the CSI department. “That’s great, doll. So about that coffee, I take mine with two sugars and no cream. I’ll be in the meeting room”, was his reply and you were this close to punch him in the face. Luckily for him, Seokjin appeared to scoot you away before you had a chance to reply.

‘Last time I checked you were suspended. What are you doing here, Y/N?’ he asks, one eyebrow raised and his nose scrunched. The classic contempt gesture. He can’t hide it and you don’t blame him. He doesn’t have the brains to understand the body language, let alone control it.

‘Well, last time I checked we weren’t on first names terms, officer Lee’, you fake smile, poorly enough so he can notice. The scowl in his face deepens and you smirk, pleased. ‘Besides, I don’t report to you. Good day’.

You are about to walk away when his hand reaches for your arm and yanks you back. Your hip hits the corner of the metal desk and you have to place a quick hand on it to hold your weight. Otherwise Sunho would have likely smashed you against the glass-covered surface.

‘I’m not having a good day so I recommend you apologise to me right now before I make you’ he speaks but it sounds more like a hiss. His teeth gritted. His fingers curl around your bicep, hard enough to leave a mark. And you swear you are about to make him wear his tongue as a tie until a familiar voice calls your name.

‘Y/N!’, you hear Seokjin’s voice and your head turns in his direction. He approaches the desk and Sunho lets go of your arm in a hurry.

Still, Seokjin shoots him a glare, he probably noticed. But instead of getting physical like you would, your partner simply places a protective hand on your back and motions you to follow him. ‘Come, the chief is waiting for you’.

A sarcastic chuckle leaves Sunho’s lips. ‘…Like always the prince is here to rescue his wench’, you hear him clearly and Seokjin does too. His eyebrows knit together in a frown and you clench your fists so hard your nails bit into the skin of your palm. However, Seokjin manages to make you walk away with him, leaving Sunho behind with his spiteful comments.

‘I swear, Jin…’, you take a deep breath, ‘One of these days I’m- I will kick his tiny balls so up his throat he will end up looking like a goddamn rooster’.

Seokjin snorts, covering his mouth with one hand at you foul language.

‘Jesus christ, Y/N…’, he laughs and shakes his head.

‘I mean it. He’s such an asshole’.

‘Just ignore the idiot, he’s not worth it’, Seokjin waves a hand in dismissal. ‘He’s like that to everyone and the only reason he’s still working here is because he’s with the syndicate. Not even Seulgi likes him and she likes you’.

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips. He has a point, though. You don’t really have friends here apart from Seokjin—and maybe, just maybe chief Jeon. Still, doesn’t feel right to think of him as your friend, the chief is more like a mentor-figure. And considering how good his son and you hit it off, well…

You sigh. At least you have Jin.

‘I don’t think I can ignore someone who’s constantly trying to put me down like I’m less of a person than he is just because I’m a woman’.

‘What do you want me to say, Y/N?’, Jin presses his lips together and shrugs. ‘You don’t need to ask me for permission if you want to hit Sunho in the face. He probably deserves it, but he’s not going to change. He would only have more reasons to hate you’

Yes, he would. You scoff bitterly. Seokjin is right, as always.

You take a look at his side profile as you two keep walking down the corridor to the chief’s office. He’s always been a handsome man, and more than once you’ve jokingly blame him for the hate you receive from the other female employees. ‘You are your stupid handsome face is the reason why I can’t make friends with the girls here’, you would say and he would laugh every time, giving you a cheeky smile. ‘So you think I’m handsome?’.

He displays some signs of narcissistic behavior, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary. You wouldn’t be able to get along if he was a real narcissistic like the desk captain. He’s just confident in himself, and why wouldn’t he be? The smooth and clear skin of his face doesn’t hold a single scar from teenage acne like most of the men here, and he’s always impeccable groomed. The only times you’ve Seokjin disheveled is when he’s drunk, like last night. Which reminds you… He’d said some strange things while you said your goodbyes.

‘Why are you squinting at me?’, Seokjin catches your eye for a moment, but you don’t look away.

‘I’m just thinking…’

‘About what? Me?’, A flirtatious smile tugs at his lips and he chuckles with false modesty. That manages to make you laugh and you turn away, nodding. ‘What- really?!’.

You don’t understand why he sounds so surprised.

‘I’m thinking about how the hell do you manage to look so refreshed today. You were sleep on the table last night after all that soju I had to carry your drunk ass to the cab, remember?’.

He huffs, his lips puckered.

‘I wasn’t that drunk, you didn’t have to carry me’

‘Also… ’, you’re not sure how to bring the subject up. Normally, you would just brush it off and ignore it. Like it never happened. Seokjin probably didn’t meant anything by it and it was just another joke. Yet, you find yourself in need for a confirmation. It’s that brats fault, he managed to get into your head after all and now is making you questioning the nature of your association with Seokjin. ‘You said something funny’.

He doesn’t get it.

‘I’m always funny’, he replies.

You bite your lip and shake your head.

‘Not as in funny-funny, more like weird-funny’, Seokjin cocks his head to the side, surely confused by your wording choice.

‘What did I say?’

‘You said…’, should you say it? What if he doesn’t remember? What if you make things weird?, ‘You said- um… that yesterday… it’s nothing’

You can’t bring yourself to speak, but it’s too late. You have Seokjin worried and he stops his tracks to turn around and look at you, making you come to an abrupt halt against his chest. ‘Shit-’, you mutter. The smell of his after-shave cologne surrounds you like a cloud and his hands come to rest on your shoulders to steady you.

‘Sorry, are you okay?’,

‘Yes, I’m fine… Just nevermind’, you step back holding your bumped nose with one hand and waving the other in a dismissal gesture. You weren’t expecting Jin’s chest to be that hard, did he actually work out behind your back? He was always complaining he didn’t have enough time to hit the gym. ‘Do you have any idea why the chief called us here? You, I get it. But I mean, I’m still suspended’

Seokjin follows you suspiciously quick, was he hoping for a change of subject?, you wonder are you eye him carefully before motion him to resume the walk. The chief’s office’s door is a few feet away, you’re basically there already.

‘Actually no, I’m also just arriving…’, He replies as you come to a stop in front of the wooden door. A golden plate hangs next to it and reads the chief’s full name and title. ‘Though he did sound a little… worried. Do you think something happened?’.

‘It better have, otherwise it’s going to be a boring morning’, you reply and hear Seokjin’s chuckle behind you.

You reach for the door handle and push it open.

A strange quietness surrounds the room, and you notice something is off the moment your eyes land on chief Jeon’s face. He’s sitting by the window, light pouring over his neatly combed grey hair. His thick eyebrows furrowed, deep creases form on his forehead as he stares at the papers scattered across the wooden table in front of him. Standing next to the chief is sergeant Ho. she’s wearing and an impeccable black suit that wraps beautifully around her curves, her bleached blond hair tied up in a ponytail. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her is gaze lost somewhere between the marbled floor and her own thoughts.

But just as you steps inside, she acknowledges your presence. Her chin shoots up and you are welcomed by an all-familiar scowl.

Sergeant Ho Hyunju is yours and Seokjin’s direct superior. You’ve earned yourself a place in her naughty list long ago during a case you would rather cross out of your resume. A boy was being held hostage by his stepmother. You had her cornered in the backyard, and she was pointing a loaded gun at his head. Her hand were shaking too much for her to be able to pull the trigger, that’s why you decided to step in and taunt her into killing the hostage until she was crying and pointed the gun at you. You easily disarmed her after that and the boy was brought into safety by the other officers. However, Sergeant Ho almost suspended you that time because she thought you were being reckless ‘and could’ve had that boy killed, for heaven’s sake!’. You tried to explain her you reasoning, you tried to show her that the woman wasn’t going to fulfill her threat anyway. But she didn’t listen.

You got off only with a warning thanks to chief Jeon. that was a year ago and still she doesn’t approve of your ‘wild’ behaviour, even when you and Seokjin have the best arrest record in the precinct.

That’s when you realize, whatever this is, she doesn’t want you to be there.

It only serves to spark your curiosity even more.

The chief greets you and your partner, and then gestures you to take a seat at the meeting table. Sergeant Ho sit down next to the chief, you and Seokjin sit on the opposite side so you can all face each other.

‘Thanks for coming in such short notice, detectives’, sergeant Ho speaks, her red lips pursed in a thin line.

‘I assume this is not a social call, or there’d coffee’, Seokjin jokes, trying to ease the tension that has suddenly built up inside the room. No one laughs, sergeant Ho’s scowl shifts to him now and you can see Jin glup. The bob of his adam’s apple manages to distract you for a brief second and the the chief clears his throat.

‘I asked you two here because you are my best team, and despite y/n here being suspended’, the chief signals to you with an open hand as he glances briefly at sergeant Ho. ‘There’s no denying she is the best profiler we’ve got’.

‘What is this about, sir?’, You ask.

With a waving gesture, the chief signals something to Sergeant Ho. She then proceeds to slides a paper across the table to you. You manage to take a look at its content before Seokjin grabs it.

It’s a list of names.

‘Last week seven dangerous criminals at the Myangdo Penitentiary died from heart attacks’, Sergeant Ho explains. ‘The autopsies didn’t show traces of poison or something else that might have explained the sudden deaths. The last medical exams showed they were all as healthy as one can be in prison. There’s nothing on security footage either, they weren’t attacked. Between 7:20 and 7:22 pm last wednesday each one of them collapsed to the floor. Dead’.

You frown and gesture Seokjin to hand you the list.

‘How can that happen?’, you ask, your eyes are quickly to escan the seven names. Two of them you remember from previous cases.

‘That’s the thing. We don’t know, no one does’. The chief replies.

‘That’s insane’, Seokjin brings his thumb and forefinger to massage his temples. ‘How can seven people die simultaneously without a cause?’

‘Wait’, you place a hand on the table and glance up to your superiors. ‘If this is happened last week why are we holding a meeting now?’

‘Because it happened again, yesterday’.

‘Yesterday was wednesday too’, you are quick to realize. The chief nods. ‘How many died?’

‘Seven, again’, Sergeant Ho replies handing you another list of names. ‘Fourteen dead and that’s only the ones we know about’.

Seokjin examines the list with a thoughtful frown.‘You think there’s more?’

‘We asked the main office to check with other stations. We’re waiting to hear back from them, but they find the situation hilarious’. Sergeant Ho explains. She drums her fingernails on the table, a disappointed gesture takes over her features for a microsecond before falling back to her stoic resting face. ‘Who cares about criminals dying, that’s what they said’.

‘I don’t know why, don’t know how…’, the chief takes a deep breath and takes off his glasses. ‘But this deaths are not a coincidence. Something- someone is killing this men and I have the feeling there’ll be more deaths. So unless we gather some proof, we can’t present it as a case to the captain let alone the director’.

‘Criminals or not, murder is murder’, sergeant Ho adds, and her gaze turns to you ‘I’m sure this is something we can all agree on’.

‘It is, ma’am’, Seokjin beats you for a second, determination shining in his brown eyes. You can’t help the half smile that tugs at your lips.

‘So, Y/N. This is where you fit in’, the chief says as Sergeant Ho takes a thick blue folder fromㅡwhat you assume isㅡher bag, and hands it to you.

‘Here’s all we’ve gathered about the victims’, she explains. Calling then victims doesn’t seem right, but if the chief is right that’s what they would be. ‘Police records, inmate files from the penitentiary, and some personal information, family, education, work’.

‘There’s gotta be a connection between those men, and I need you to find it. Since you’re our of duty it would be best if you work from home’, chief Jeon says. You take the folder in your hands and acknowledge the command.

‘Yes, sir’

‘What should we do in the meantime?’, Seokjin asks, eager to get involved as well.

‘You and sergeant Ho will head for the Myangdo Penitentiary to question the guards on duty. An appointment has been made already. And I’m going to the Archive, Kang-ssi agreed to help already to find something that might resembles this MO in out files. We meet with the director in two days, work hard’.

With all decided, the chief dismisses the reunion and you part your separated ways. Seokjin sees you to the door and helps you catch a cab. You thank him and give one final bow to sergeant Ho. Each one of you has a mission to fulfill and you are more than eager to dive into yours.

In the following days you receive a call from the chief again. He wants to know if you found anything relevant for today’s meeting and you’re pleased to give him the good knews. You’ve managed to establish two factors that connect the fourteen men: the first thing is that they are all convicted on murder or manslaughter charges. The second, their charges were publicly broadcasted on the news.

But your research didn��t end there. All over the internet there was talking about criminals around the world dropping dead in the streets for no apparent reason. And again, most of them were either accused of murder, rape or other heinous crimes.

One particular post stuck with you.

In Japan during an hostage situation involving a daycare center, the criminal Kurou Otoharada was said to kill himself by jumping from the rooftop even after the authorities had agreed to comply with his demands. It was odd considering he commited suicide and didn’t just died struck by heart failure like the others. His behaviour was suicidal from the beginning, but for your reason you found yourself headed to the National Archives to check the press from the last month and have a better insight into Otoharada’s story.

You didn’t get much, your japanese has never been the best, unlike your brother’s. From what you could gather he basically had died while live in TV, his identity had been publicly displayed like the others. But before him… there was nothing else. And yesterday, another criminal added up to the growing numbers.

The chief sounds pleased with your findings and encourages you to arrive on time for the meeting.

Foolish you thought it was going to be just the four of you and captain Bang. Much to your dismay when you arrive at the office, you realize the chief decided to gather the whole division for this.

As if suspension isn’t enough of a punishment, you have to endure a meeting with over a dozen men, in a narrow room that smells like cigarettes and cheap aftershave. Not to mention that Alain Delon perfume that is like the distinguishing mark of men in the force despite the age, apparently. You find Seokjin among the crowd and decide to stick closer to him, his is the only smell you can stand right now.

On top of that, the chief has barely begin to explain the situation when a particular spiteful comment against the deaths has all them yelling and insulting each other’s’ guts. Almost at the same time.

You catch sergeant Ho’s exasperated gaze across the room. Apart from you she’s the only woman in the room and by the look in her eyes she’s about to slit someone’s throat. Her mind is probably entertaining the same thought you have: Perhaps, apart from Seokjin and Chief Jeon, there were no men in this room but barking dogs.

Maybe if you weren’t in a division where nearly the one-hundred percent of the officers were men, things might be a little different and a dialogue could surface among this peacock fight.

‘All of the victims are criminals. Either being pursued by the police or already behind bars’, another intervention in the debate pulls you out of your thoughts. It’s Seokjin. He’s probably trying to push some sense in this mess. ‘We can assume that more wanted criminals, whose whereabouts are unknown, have died as well. In which case the death toll could be reaching a hundred’

‘I still don’t understand why are we opening an investigation for criminals, captain?’, you hear Detective Jung Dongil speak. He’s past his forty, whites mingled in his black hair, and his nose stands out from his face like a ships’ sail. Captain Bang barely looks at him. He’s been dozing off in his chair since the meeting began. ‘It’s a waste of resources in my opinion’.

‘Then it’s a good thing no one asked for you opinion, Dongil’, replies another and the shouting resumes for another round until sergeant Ho finally has enough of this.

She slams her palms against the wooden surface of the meeting table. ‘Are you gentlemen or a bunch of cattle?! We are discussing a real threat here so I recommend you keep your personal ego debates to yourselves!’.

‘Sergeant Ho is right’, the chief speaks from the head of the table opposite to the captain. ‘This has gone loud enough and you gentleman haven’t heard any of the facts yet and-’.

‘You want to call criminals victims and want to prosecute a ghost’, the nasal voice of supervisor Han chimes in, interrupting him. His small eyes shooting daggers at sergeant Ho who’s still standing at the edge of the table next to the chief. You clench your fists below the table, the chief has made you promise not to intervene today since you are technically not allowed to be there. Still, you are part of the investigation. ‘If you want to keep this nonsense be my guest, but I can’t and won’t ask my men to follow’.

‘People are dying, sir. Someone is killing them’, sergeant Ho replies.

‘Not people. Criminals, sergeant’. There’s a condescending smirk on his face as he eyes the sergeant.

'B-but is it really that bad, boss?’, a young officer officer next to the supervisor addresses sergeant Ho. His tone more conciliatory than judgmental and you notices how he tries to shrink himself into his chair when the sergeant’s eyes land on him. ‘The v-victims were all criminals who deserved the capital punishment several times over, weren’t they?’

'Violent criminal or death row inmate, Yugyeom, if someone kills them it is murder’ Sergeant Ho replies. The young man nods and scribbles something down in his notepad.

'But has it been verified that is murder?’ Dongil asks.

'How could over a hundred heart attacks be a coincidence?’, Seokjin huffs. ‘Of course is murder!’

'Is it?’, for the first time captain Bang intervenes. He eyes Seokjin with a wary look and your partner stiffens. ‘Who could possibly murder that many people over a such a wide area virtually simultaneously, detective Kim?’

‘I- I mean… the thing is, sir- we’ Seokjin can’t reply. He never stammers, and you watch him incredulous as he starts fidgeting with his pen.

'Maybe this is a carefully orchestrated mass assassination carried out by a large organization, wouldn’t you agree, detective?’ Dongil says, with a mock painted across his face.

You roll your eyes. This is getting worse each second, and you are desperate to speak your mind, if only this men would listen to you.

There is something that still feels funny about the records. You can be wrong, though. But from what you’ve gathered so far, the larger amount of victims are concentrated in Seoul. You thought about mention it to the chief in your report, but by the concerned look on his face when this all began, he’s most likely noticed already.

'You gentlemen are missing the real issue here and I might understand Jeon’s concerns’, says captain Bang with his usual bored tone. He eyes the chief with clear contempt as he raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth again. ‘With so many criminals dying like that, what can be said of our pride as police, that’s what worried you, isn’t it?’

And that is it for you. You can’t handle the disrespect anymore. Your right hand slams against the table mimicking sergeant Ho’s intervention before. The thud reverberates through the entire office. You stand up. The room full of noisy men is suddenly silenced as they all turn to look at you.

'This is not a matter of pride, captain’.

'Y/N, don’t-’, the chief hushes you, shaking his head as to remind you you are being inappropriate.

You ignore him and address the entire table this time.

'This is not about pride or reputation. This is a question of justice and if you gentlemen can’t see this, if you think murder is okay because the victims are criminals you are not worthy of wearing your badge’. The table remains silence as to waiting for the captain to scold you. But he doesn’t. He looks at you over his glasses, like he’s hoping you elaborate what you just said. ‘…A man who kills another is a murderer, whether the victim deserved it or not. Period. Our job is to find whoever is responsible for this and prosecute him according to the law’, you say and for a moment your eyes meet the chief’s. Whispers flood the room. Your heart beats aggressively against your chest and you can feel your legs start to tremble.

'So what this woman is saying is that we should believe that it is possible to give other people heart attacks?’, Dongil speaks up again. The same mockery in his face from when he tried to embarrass Seokjin. ‘Please… That’s illogical! These deaths are a coincidence, that is the only reasonable explanation’.

You are not letting him off that easily.

'Perhaps for you, detective, and your narrow little mind it is’, you reply. Dongil’s face turns bright red as he glares at you.

'How dare you talk to your elder like that?!’ he barks. You roll your eyes.

'Heart failure is predominantly caused by cardiovascular diseases or hypertension. However, in some people it can be attributed to the cardiotoxic effect of a particular drug.’, your eyes find Dongil’s. He’s shooting daggers at you. ‘So it is, indeed, possible to give people heart attacks… sunbaenim’

'Spare me the science lesson, woman! You can’t track down a murderer when the cause of death is heart attack!’, he spits back. 'If they had a knife sticking out of them it would be different thing!’

'Every criminal who’d died had his identity publicly broadcasted either on the internet or in the news. Anyone who’d saw who they were could be the killer!’, you add, looking at the conflicted faces scattered around the table. ‘It has to be possible for someone to kill like this, it must’

You hear Dongil scoff. 'That’s just speculation!’

'No, sir. That is a fact’. Dongil doesn’t give you an answer, though you swear he mutters “bitch” between his teeth as he sits back down.

Captain Bang lets out a loud sigh and waves his hand as to ask you to sit down as well. You are not satisfied yet, there’s more you would like to say. But for now, you decide to obey your captain. 'How about putting it to a vote?’, he suggest, he looks tired and annoyed.

‘If I may speak…’, a deep voice from the back of the room suddendly steals the badged collective’s attention. There’s a man standing next to the door that wasn’t there before. He’s dressed all in black, a leather briefcase hangs from his left hand. He’s pale, and young–maybe seokjin’s age or younger. You can’t really tell by the way his fringe covers his eyes. Before someone has a chance to question him, he opens his mouth again.‘I have a message for captain Bang of the Gangnam police from RM’.

The room goes silent again for an instant, followed by a wave of murmurs.

'RM?’, you turn towards Jin who’s wearing the same perplexed expression you must have. ‘As in the RM? The faceless man?’

Nobody knows RM’s real name, or whereabouts or even how he looks like. The first time you’ve ever heard that name was back at the academy. You had signed for a forensic psychology course, and the professor talked often about the mysterious detective RM who could to solve any case no matter what it was. But it wasn’t until you joined the police formally that you really got acquainted with the stories about RM’s cases. He never showed his face, but people seemed to be sure he was a man. His first famous case was back on the 2000’s, about serial bombings in England, so perhaps he was english… but again, nobody knew.

‘We didn’t ask for his involvement’, says the captain.

The man nods. 'Yes, but… The truth is that RM’s been investigating this case for a few days now, it has picked his interest and he’s decided to aid the police in the case’, he explains. He has a calming voice that seem to dissuade the men from protesting against his presence.

‘Who are you, boy?’, Dongil asks.

‘You can address me as Agust, I’ll be RM proxy I look forward to working with you’. He bends down to withdraw a laptop from his briefcase and sets it up in the middle of the table without waiting for permission. Nobody stops him. 'Now please, if you all would keep your tongues to yourself it’d be appreciated. You will now hear RM speak’

The screen lights up with two capital letters in bright green RM over a black background.

’Good afternoon, this is RM’, a high-pitched scrambled voice greets the room. You figure he must be using a filter since it doesn’t sound too mechanical. ’The case before us is unprecedented in scope and difficulty. And is a monstrous case of mass murder that must be stopped at all cost. In order to solve it I request the full cooperation of the Police force. These mysterious deaths are a worldwide phenomenon, but the most deaths as registered in korean soil. Whoever is doing this it’s safe to assume he’s korean. I think I will be able to share with you my theories very soon in a direct confrontation with the killer…Thank you, that would be all for now. You’ll hear of me soon enough’.

After the broadcast ends, Agust doesn’t say anything else. He just packs his things and leaves the room in a silent chaos.

The meeting room cleared an hour ago, but you remain there going over what RM said. He seemed convinced there was only one killer and that he was male. You’ve already figured out he must be korean considering the amount of deaths pilling up in the city’s public records. You can’t help but replay your last conversation with Taehyung.

‘Killing a killer has never actually reduced the number of killers in this world, has it?’

‘Then it’s easy… You’ll have to kill another one’.

You wonder if your brother would ever approve of this. Whoever is having those criminals killed, if it as single person, then it has to be a psychotic fool. His actions: killing so many criminals all over the world, speak of a person who is not doing this for some personal agenda but for the delusion of a greater good. You wonder what kind of thoughts cross his mind. If there are no more criminals, would the world be safer? Would it be fairer? That is not the way the world behaves, and you know it. But clearly he doesn’t.

‘You still here?’.You raise you head to meet Seokjin’s gaze. He’s standing by the door, hands tucked inside his pockets.

‘Looks like it’, Seokjin smirks and walks over to sit next to you.

He stays silence for a moment, but you can tell there’s something in his mind by the way he keeps running his fingers through his fringe only to brush it back into place. For an instant you worry he might bring up you awkward conversation from the past thursday. You never really got to tell him what happened, and he didn’t pressure you to speak up until now. You had secretly hoped he’d forgotten about it.

‘Can I ask you something. Y/n?’

‘Sure…’, You brace yourself for the question when he opens his mouth.

‘What do you think about what RM said?’

Ah. You have to fight the sigh of relief that threatens to leave your lips. As always you worry over nothing, and instead of dwelling more into it, you clear your throat.

‘You mean about the killer being just one person?’ you ask and he nods. You lay back on the chair and let out a sigh. ‘I think he’s probably right. These murders were not carried out by an organization. If it’s a group it has to be small…’

Your partner frowns a little. ‘Why?’

'Well… statistically, the more people involved, the less chance of success. I think it responds to the theory of chaos. Do you have a pen?’, Seokjin pats his breast pocket and fishes out a black pen. You take it and tear a piece of paper from the report sergeant Ho handed you. 'Each individual is a variable’ You draw six crosses in two columns, three on each and join them with straight lines. '…and the more variables determine the initial conditions’, you add more crosses and join them with more lines until the drawing looks like a cobweb. 'The more possible different outcomes. Therefore, to have succeed at killing this many people in such a short period of time, the killer must have acted with very few to cero companions’.

'I see’, Seokjin brushes his nether lip with his thumb and takes his time to examine your doodles with a thoughtful frown. 'You are sure of that despite of the fact that is virtually impossible for one person to kill people simultaneously in two different sides of the world?’

You shrug. 'It has to be possible… somehow’.

'Yeah. I think I agree. Otherwise these deaths wouldn’t make sense at all…’, he says, and gives you a half smile you can’t help but reciprocate. 'We’ll see what he has to say when all this “direct confrontation” thing takes place tomorrow’

‘Yeah…’

Seokjin stands up with a heavy sigh, stretching an arm over his shoulder and then the other.

‘You want me to give you a ride? we can go grab a bite’

‘Thanks, but I’m fine’, you shake your head. ‘Besides… I think I’m going to stop by Seulgi’s station before heading home. I’m thinking about asking her help to monitor naver’s forums in case something interesting pops up’.

‘Very well…’, Jin smiles and places a hand on your shoulder, giving you a comforting squeez. ‘Don’t forget to eat and rest’

You chuckle. ‘Sure thing, mom’

Seokjin gives you an amused smirk over his shoulder and winks before exiting the room.

‘They are calling him Kira now’, you sigh and as you close your laptop. Eyes stinging for having stayed all night at the precinct, monitoring the public naver forums with Seulgi. She’s already gone home, you, on the other hand, stayed for the first official meeting regarding the serial deaths of criminals.

Seokjin next to you only nods.

‘So I heard’.

You are all gathered in the meeting room—chief Jeon, Seokjin, the sergeant Ho, and a couple of officers that willingly asked to join the investigation, senior detective Jung Pilkyeo and his current protegee, rookie officer Kim Yugyeom—waiting for the ‘public confrontation’ RM talked about to happen. His proxy, Agust, sent word to the chief that you all should be watching the national channel around 10 am but gave no other instruction.

‘They are also saying he’s the angel of death, sent by God to punish the evil’, Yugyeom says, eliciting a chuckle from your partner lips.

Detective Jung sighs loudly and shakes his head in disapproval.

‘People can be incredibly superstitious sometimes’, he comments running a hand through his dark locks of hair. He is a handsome man, square chin, wide shoulders and thick eyebrows. You don’t talk much, like you, he isn’t one for social events either so this is the first time you and him have been in the same room for more than an hour.

It didn’t surprise you when you heard he wanted to join the newly-formed task force. From what you’ve read in his reports and the way he handles his cases, Detective Jung’s sense of justice is very similar to yours.

‘How much longer will RM makes us wait?’ sergeant Ho’s voice drags your attention back to the whole table. ‘We need to know his plans if he wants to work with us’.

‘I have the feeling he’s not one for team play, Sergeant’, replies the chief. ‘I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I don’t think Agust would ask us to wait if RM himself hadn’t ask him… In the mean time I want to hear all about this new nickname. You said they were calling him Kira?’

The chief’s gazes falls on you.

‘I think it has to do with the english word ‘killer’, sir. They are also calling him Azrael, like the angel of death in christian lore’, you explain. ‘But Kira is the one nickname that people seem more fond of. It’s alarming the amount of people that support his doings…’

‘He’s offering a machiavellian solution to crime, of course people would support him’ says detective Jung. ‘It would be strange if the didn’t. People tend to find solace in believing there’s a higher power that controls life so they don’t have to worry about facing the cold reality’.

You nod. That’s precisely what you concluded in your assessment with Seulgi.

‘If we can catch him and expose his humanity to the world, then it’s over for him’, you say, ‘People will support a killer God, but won’t support a human murderer’.

‘Am I the only one that finds this terrifying?’, Yugyeom asks from his seat. Again you notice his shy nature, he’s looking down at his lap and tugging at the hairs on his nape. ‘What if he gets angry at us for trying to catch him? What if he kills us?’

The table remains silence. Although Yugyeom is the first to be vocal about his worries, this is something you are sure you all have thought at some point before this began. If he can kill people from the distance, who says he won’t kill people who are against him? But catching the bad guys is your job as policemen, that’s the whole purpose of your badge. To protect innocent people and to bring criminals to justice, and if you are not willing to put your life on the line for what’s right then you can’t call yourself a police officer.

You know some of your colleagues outside this meeting room have other views as to what’s the purpose of their badge. Some of them use it as a privilege, some of the abuse that authority to be as bad as the criminals they put behind bars.

But your thoughts are soon cut by the TV. The screen turned dark blue and the Interpol logo shone over it.

’We interrupt your program to bring you a live broadcast from the International Criminal Police Organization. This is the ICPO to the whole world. Kim Yoonho will provide simultaneous interpretation in Korean’

'Could this be…?’, Seokjin stands up to grab the remote and turn the volume to the highest setting.

The interpol logo disappears and the screen changes into a shoot of a well-dressed man sitting on a red leather armchair.

’My name is Ralph Moore, otherwise known as RM. I am investigating a string of deaths among heinous criminals’, he begins.

The group attention is on this man now. You can’t help but frown as you look at him. Despite of the fact that he does look the way you have imagined RM to be: a man in his mid forties, english and smartly-groomed; you can’t believe him being RM. After who knows how many years hiding his true face, his identity from the world, why would he decide to star in a worldwide broadcast just like that?

There is something that smells fishy about this. He isn’t RM. He can’t be.

'What is happening, sunbaenim?’, you hear Yugyeom’s alarmed tone.

'I- I’m not sure…’ Pilkyeo replies.

’Kira, I have a pretty good idea of why you might want to do something like this. But no matter how brutal the criminals might be, you have no right to judge people. What you are doing is evil and I will do my utmost effort to hunt you down.’ He says. The camera focuses on his face as the broadcast goes on.

This isn’t RM.

His speech sounds too stiff, as if he’s playing out a script.

’Kira, are you watching this?’, he keeps calling him Kira, why? You wonder. Does RM actually believe in that God-punisher theory? Or is this something else? ’How are you killing these people? You may be feeling like God, but from my perspective, you’re just a hopeless, stupid murderer. Stop judging the world by your yardstick. Justice always wins. Kira, I will destroy your childish plans. Do you really think you are needed? Kira, I will send you to the gallows! I will hunt you down! Prepare yourself, Kira…’.

Ralph Moor starts laughing.

Manically.

This man is not RM. Not in a million years.It’s only seconds after that he stops abruptly. His eyes go wide as he clutches his chest. Soon, collapsing on the floor.

The room goes wide-eyed, in a collective gasp.

'Dear God…!’, the chief exclaims.

Your mouth falls open, your heart beating hard against your chest is almost painful. Did he…? Is he…? A heart attack? Can this be a coincidence or was this man actually killed without direct contact? But that’s just impossible… right?

The broadcast doesn’t stop, though. The camera y showing the man lying limp against the armchair, his eyes bulging out of his sockets.

Dead.

This person is dead, Kira killed him.

'W-what just happened?’, Seokjin asks, his tone falter. 'Is he…? d-did he die?’

'This is sickening…’, Detective Jung’s face contours in disgust and looks away from the screen.

‘Chief, look!’, this time is sergeant Ho who points to the small tv plugged on the table.

The screen turns black and a two letters in green appear on the middle of the screen.

RM.

’I can’t believe this, Kira…’ a familiar scrambled voice speaks. ’You can actually kill someone without direct contact? The Ralph Moore you saw on the broadcast today was a convict due to be executed today. In other words, a stand-in for me.’

'I knew it’, you mutter to yourself.

’Kira, if you don’t like it, try to kill me again…” he states. Nothing happens, though. “Go on, do it! What’s wrong? Can’t do it?’.

‘What is he doing? Is he trying to get himself killed for real?!’, sergeant Ho exclaims. The chief doesn’t seems capable to give her an answer, his eyes glued to the screen.

A few seconds pass. Nothing has happened yet.

’I see…’ RM speaks again. ‘So there are people you can’t kill, it seems. Oh, one more thing. I said the broadcast was going live to the whole world but it’s actually only being broadcasted in Seoul. I’d planned to broadcast it in other regions after some time had passed but there is no need for that now. After all, you’re in Seoul, aren’t you, Kira?’

'Oh my God!’, Yugyeom’s face drains of color and you notices his hands start to shake. He looks like he is about to cry, poor boy.

He must be terrified. You are all terrified.

’But that is no reason to just give up and turn yourself in just yet. You are going to be found and your method of killing exposed… by me. Remember that’.

And just like that the transmission ends.

[nevermindthewind]

the question queen

shoutout to @fourdrinkamy for helping me come up with this idea and for being my fave hype girl, @amyscascadingtabs for the constant support and encouragement, and to everyone else who’s let me yell about this fic for the past three weeks. I love y’all sm <3

Zoey Peralta loves to ask alllll the questions. When Amy gets pregnant again, the questions become even more frequent and even more hilarious.

read on ao3 or under the cut.

I.  “Mommy, why won’t you open the door?!”

This is the question Amy is bombarded with not even seconds after entering the bathroom. She had just left Zoey in front of the TV, seemingly entranced by the episode of Paw Patrol currently on the screen in hopes that she could use the bathroom in peace.  

Not entranced enough, apparently.

Dammit.

Really, Amy knows she shouldn’t be complaining. She’s gotten to spend her day off snuggled up with Zoey on the couch, alternating between reading and working on the puzzle sitting half-completed on the coffee table with Paw Patrol on in the background. It’s the type of day she often dreams about when she’s in the midst of a crazy, exhausting case. So, yes, Amy knows how lucky she is.

But she also knows if she hears “Chase is on the case!” one more time she will freaking lose it.

So as soon as Zoey is settled with a bowl of cheez-its Amy slides out of her daughter’s grip and scurries to the bathroom, snagging her purse off the kitchen table as she does so. For the first time in what felt like years she actually turns the lock after closing the bathroom door. Part of her is surprised they still work.

She had just opened her purse and pulled out a small CVS bag when she hears the banging on the door, followed by her daughter’s incessant yelling.

“MOMMY! I said, why won’t you open the door?”

Amy squeezes her eyes shut as her hand freezes inside the bag.

“Baby, Mommy needs a minute to go potty.”

“But why can’t I come in?”

“Because...because I’ve got a surprise for you!” Amy says wildly, internally cursing herself because now she has to figure out a surprise for Zoey on top of everything else.

“Oooh a surprise?! Is it candy? A new binder? GUMMY WORMS?!”

Amy can’t help but smile. Zoey really is such a combination of her parents.

“Go finish your snack and I’ll come show you when I’m done, okay?”

“Okay!”

As soon as she hears Zoey pitter patter back down the hall she turns her attention back to the bag in her hand. She slides the obnoxious pink package out before plopping herself on the toilet.

It’s a weird feeling, the combination of excitement and dread that courses through her veins as she takes out the pregnancy test. She’s taken what feels like a billion of these at this point and she’s felt pretty much every emotion in the book. This one, though, feels different.

Once Zoey had turned three they’d decided to try for another kid. However it turned out to be much, much easier said than done. After almost a year of trying, three close calls, and one particularly heartbreaking conversation where Amy had admitted to Jake she was convinced the universe didn’t find her worthy of another baby, they’d finally decided to leave it up to fate. It was just too damn hard. They weren’t going to stop trying, but they weren’t going to force it either. If they had another baby, amazing. If not, that’d be okay, too. They already had the most incredible, beautiful daughter. They didn’t need anything else.

That was four months ago.

Fast forward to today. Amy’s period is five days late (which never happens), her boobs hurt like hell, and she hasn’t been able to stop eating for the past 72 hours. All signs that point to her possibly being pregnant.

She wants to be excited, Christ does she want to, but she can’t help the nagging fear telling her it’s going to be negative. There’s no way she’s pregnant.

And yet…

There’s still the tiniest glimmer of hope as she awkwardly places the test between her legs (that part never got any easier either). Maybe this is it. Maybe there’s another Jake-and-Amy combo residing in her belly. Maybe.

Amy’s just placed the test on the counter and set her alarm when she hears Zoey once again trampling down the hall.

“Mommy, the show is done. Are you done with my surprise?” The question is followed by what sounds like Zoey attempting to break apart the door with her own two hands.

Amy winces, eyeing the timer still open on her phone. Two minutes, forty-six seconds.

“Not yet, Zo. I had to order it online.” Again with the lies. Get it together, Amy.

“Oh…” A pause, and then, “Can I come in now? I miss you!”

Amy can’t help but laugh as she stands up to unlock the door. The door swings open to reveal Zoey with her tiny fist up in the air as if ready to strike.  Zoey looks up, her eyes widening with excitement as she sees her mom.

“Finally!” she says dramatically, flinging herself into Amy’s legs. “You were in there forever.”

Amy rolls her eyes as a smile flickers across her face. Since the day she was born Zoey Peralta has always been one for dramatics. “It was only two minutes, Zo.”

Zoey lets go of Amy’s legs and crosses her arms, making her look fourteen instead of four. “Yeah, two whole minutes!”

Amy can tell her daughter is trying to look mad, but her eyes are sparkling and there’s a mischievous grin attempting to show itself beneath the angry facade. It’s a look that screams Jake Peralta and it’s enough to make Amy’s heart burst with (exasperated) affection.

“Well I am very, very sorry.” Amy reaches out and lifts her daughter into the air, rousing a giggle out of Zoey before resting her on her right hip. She kisses Zoey’s forehead, sweeping her brown curls out of her face. “I missed you too, Zo-bug.”

She carries Zoey over to the toilet and sits so she’s straddling her lap, pausing to check the timer. Thirty-three seconds. Oh shit.

“Mommy?”

“Hmm?” Amy snaps back to look at her daughter.

Zoey cocks her head. “Why’s your face all scrunchy? Is something wrong?”

Amy gives Zoey what she hopes is a convincing smile. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why are we still here?” Zoey asks, wiggling in an attempt to get out of Amy’s grasp. Amy steals another glance at the test. This look does not get past her daughter, who immediately reaches for the counter.  “Ooh what’s that, Mommy?”

It’s all Amy can do not to burst out laughing. Of course Zoey wants to get her hands on a used pregnancy test.

“Well, it’s a test that Mommy took,” she explains, grabbing the stick and shoving it into her pants pocket. She doesn’t look to see the results.

“I love tests!” exclaims Zoey. She turns back to Amy with an inquisitive look. “Can I take one, too?”

Amy snorts before shaking her head. “No, baby. This is a test for Mommies only.”

“Oh. Okay.” Zoey thankfully isn’t too upset she isn’t included in this particular activity. She does, apparently, have more questions. “But why did you take it on the potty?”

Just as Amy’s about to try and explain herself the timer goes off, causing Amy’s brain to officially go into panic mode. This is it, the moment of truth.

But wait -- Should she look with Zoey right there? Part of her wants to, wants her first baby to be there for the moment she becomes a big sister -- or for comfort if she doesn’t. But there’s another part of her that knows if Zoey finds out she will tell Jake, and their parents, and every stranger she meets on the street before Amy even has a chance to open her mouth.

Maybe she should just wait for Jake. He should be home any minute. She can make it til then, right? Right.

Amy lifts Zoey into the air as she rises off the toilet seat and sets her on the ground.

“Alright, Bug. Should we go see what Ryder and the rest of the gang are up to?”

“Yeah! No job is too big, no pup is too — ”

Down the hall they hear the front door click open, followed by a booming voice calling out, “Anybody home?”

“DADDY!” Zoey’s eyes light up before she sprints out of the bathroom and down the hall. “Daddy, you’re home!”

“Hey Zozo!”

Even from her spot in the bathroom Amy can hear Zoey collide with Jake. She giggles to herself as she follows her daughter’s path towards the entryway. Once in the hallway she can see them; Zoey wrapped around Jake’s leg while Jake places his keys on their designated hook.

“How was your day with Mommy?” Jake asks, lifting Zoey into the air. He blows a raspberry on her cheek, causing Zoey to burst into giggles. Amy’s pretty sure it’s scientific fact that Zoey giggles are the cutest sounds in the entire world.

See, they don’t need a second kid. Just look how amazing their first one is.

“Good. We watched Paw Patrol and started a puzzle,” says Zoey, now clinging to Jake’s neck.

Jake’s eyes light up in over-the-top excitement. “No way! You’ll have to show it to me.”

“Okay. Mommy helped but I did most of it,” Zoey adds proudly.

“Yeah she did,” Amy confirms, smiling as she reaches the two of them. “Hi there.”

Jake returns her exhausted smile with one of his own before kissing her gently on the lips. “Hi.”

“Guess what, Daddy?” Zoey pipes up, inserting herself right between her parents. Jake and Amy snicker at each other. God forbid there be a single moment where Zoey isn’t the center of their attention.

“What?”

“Mommy took a test today for Mommies in the bathroom. Isn’t that a funny place for a test?”

Jake’s eyebrows as shoot up while Amy closes her eyes. This was so not how she wanted him to find out.

If there even is anything to find out.

Amy opens her eyes to see Jake looking right at her. She can see the gears in his head turning, quickly putting two and two together. He tilts his head slightly, as if looking for a confirmation.

“Oh really?” His question is directed at Amy. She nods, feeling a blush spread down her neck and cheeks.

“Question Queen over here caught me just as I’d finished taking it.”

“Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool.” Jake lets out a nervous laugh. The corners of his mouth are attempting to smile, but it’s like he’s trying to keep it hidden. Like he’s just as scared as she is.

“And?” he asks in a terrible attempt at being casual. They both know this is anything but casual. “What’d it say?”

“Yeah, did you get all the questions right?” Zoey asks.

“I don’t know,” Amy answers honestly, not taking her eyes off Jake. “We got a little sidetracked.”

“Right.” Jake runs his free hand through his hair.

“I have it here. We should look, right?” Amy asks, slowly reaching her hand down to where the test was currently residing and burning a hole in her pocket. “Get it over with?”

“Sure, yeah, that sounds good,” says Jake, hoisting Zoey over to his other hip. “It’s your call, babe.”

There’s a shift in the air, as if they’ve been suspended in time. Amy grips the test, but freezes just before pulling it out. She doesn’t know if she can do this again, if she can handle another heartbreak.

“Ames?”

Amy looks up to see Jake giving her the sweetest smile with Zoey still tucked into his side.

“It’ll all be okay.”

“Yeah, Mommy!” Zoey adds with a toothy grin of her own. She doesn’t have the slightest idea what her parents are talking about, but both her and Jake’s encouragements are all Amy needs to take the test out of her pocket.

They will be okay. Baby or not, they will all be okay.

She gives them a nod and a tiny smile, takes a deep breath, and finally flips the test over.

“Oh my god.”

A gasp escapes from the back of her throat. She brings her hand to her mouth.

“Ames, what’s it say?”

“Did you get the questions right?”

Amy can’t speak, she can barely breathe as she holds up the test for Jake to see.

A dark pink plus sign.

Turns out Zoey’s getting a surprise after all.

—

II. “How’d the baby get in your tummy?”

In retrospect, Amy probably should have seen this coming.

As soon as they found out Amy was pregnant, both Jake and Amy had been researching ways to make the pregnancy less confusing for her and to prepare her for having a little brother or sister. They’d spent hours scouring the internet and talked to the Sarge and probably bought WAY too many books about the subject.

One thing Terry had suggested was using a doppler to hear the baby’s heartbeat. Apparently he and Sharon did that with the twins before Ava was born and they thought it was the coolest thing ever. They’d even let the girls take turns using the wand, following the baby around as she moved. So last night Jake had rummaged through their closet and dug out the doppler they’d bought when Amy was pregnant with Zoey.  Amy, on the other hand, read through the Zoey tab on the pregnancy binder for the thousandth time.

It’s a win-win really and honestly, she’s surprised she didn’t think of this sooner. They hadn’t heard the heartbeat in a few weeks, and Amy already misses hearing it. Even though she’s showing now, she still wants — no, needs that extra reminder that her baby is there, that this is really happening. Sometimes she still has trouble believing it.

So now here they are; Amy’s propped up on the bed with her (Jake’s) t-shirt pulled up and gel all over her belly while Jake sits with Zoey in his lap, the doppler ready to go in between them.

“Alright. You ready for this, Bug?” Jake asks.

“Uh-huh.” Zoey starts to nod then stops herself. “Ready for what?”

Jake and Amy lock eyes and smirk to themselves. Their daughter, they’ve realized, has inherited her father’s goldfish brain.

“To hear the baby’s heartbeat,” Amy reminds her gently. She places her hand on the machine. “Remember? We’re gonna use the doppler so you can hear its heartbeat from inside my tummy.”

“We did this all the time when you were in there,” adds Jake. Zoey looks up at him with raised eyebrows.

“You did?”

“Oh yeah,” says Amy with an exaggerated nod. “We listened to your heartbeat all the time. In fact, it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. Until I heard you cry.” She reaches over and pokes Zoey’s belly, causing her to break into giggles. “And heard you laugh.”

“Silly Mommy,” says Zoey, still giggling. “Heartbeats aren’t beautiful! And neither is crying. Crying is so annoying.”

Annoying is Zoey’s new favorite word. Everything is annoying these days.

“Maybe most crying is annoying,” says Amy. “But hearing you cry when you were born was the least annoying, most amazing thing in the entire world.”

“Okay…” Zoey says, clearly unconvinced. However she moves on rather quickly, now turning her attention back to the doppler. “How does it work?”

“How about we show you?” Jake asks in reply. “Give me your hand.”

Zoey obliges, extending her arm out towards Jake. Jake, in turn, places the doppler wand in her hand before wrapping his own hand around hers. He guides the wand towards Amy’s belly and helps Zoey place it just below her belly button.

“What is this, Daddy?” Zoey asks. Her eyes are still trained on the doppler wand in front of her.

“This,” Jake starts dramatically, “Is a magic wand.”

“For realz?” Zoey’s eyes are wide as saucers. Jake nods, his eyes matching his daughter’s intensity.

“For realz. It sends a special message into Mommy’s belly and then plays the baby’s heartbeat into this little speaker.”

Part of Amy wants to interrupt, to give Zoey a more accurate depiction of what’s happening -- that’s what all the books say to do and it’s in subsection five of the Zoey tab.  But as she listens to the two of them talk about magic and how the gel on her skin is actually a secret potion, she can’t bring herself to do it. Zoey’s completely enamoured. Her gaze keeps switching from Jake to the doppler to Amy’s belly with infectious excitement. It’s the most she’s really engaged with the baby since they first explained the pregnancy.  How could she interrupt?

“How are we gonna find the heartbeat?” Zoey asks after Jake’s done explaining.

“Well, first we need to turn on the machine,” says Jake. He looks up at Amy. “Mommy, will you do the honors?”

Amy grins. “Of course.”

She reaches over and flicks the switch, and instantly a static noise fills the air

“Is that it?!” Zoey asks, already excited. “Is that the heartbeat?”

Jake shakes his head.

“Not yet,” he says gently. Using his hand to guide Zoey’s, the two of them begin to move the doppler across her stomach. “Now we have to find it. It’s like a treasure hunt.”

“It’ll sound different, Zo. Kind of like a galloping horse,” Amy adds. “That’s how Abuela always described it to me.”

“Like this?” Zoey beings clicking her tongue, jumping up and down in Jake’s lap in what Amy assumes is a horse impression. She gets so into it she almost throws Jake off the bed.

“Easy, cowgirl!” Jake grabs the headboard and pulls himself back towards the middle of the bed so his knee is bumping against Amy’s side.

“Yep, kinda like that,” Amy says with a giggle.

It takes them another minute or so to find the baby, specifically the heartbeat.  She knows they found it a second before Jake does. It’s fast -- very similar to Zoey’s horse impression if she’s being honest -- and absolutely breathtaking. Amy’s never been as into music as Jake, but this? This is music to her ears.

“There you are,” she whispers. One corner of her mouth curls into a smile as she instinctively brings a hand to her belly and raps her fingers against the bump. She’s almost immediately rewarded with a nudge under her hand. It’s too early to feel it from the outside, making it all the more special. Right now the kicks are just for her, her own secret code with her littlest baby. “You’re excited too, aren’t you?” Another nudge. “That’s what I thought.”

Next to her she can hear Jake talking Zoey through the whole experience.

“You hear that, Zo? That’s the heartbeat. That’s your little sister,” he says. His voice is soft, almost reverent. His hand is still wrapped around Zoey’s as they continue to press the doppler onto Amy’s belly.

“Wow…” says Zoey, clearly in awe.

“I know, isn’t that awesome?”

“Yeah, so awes -- Hey! Where’d it go?”

Static replaces the heartbeat, causing both Amy and Zoey to look up at Jake with identical annoyed expressions.

“Hold on, ladies. Give me a second. She must be moving around in there,” Jake explains, bringing his attention back to the doppler. “We have to move the wand around a bit so we can find her again, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

It doesn’t take them long to find it again, the familiar whoosh once again filling up the room within a minute or so. Amy can hear Zoey firing off more questions, to which Jake gives a multitude of answers. She probably should be paying more attention, but it’s just so hard to focus on anything other than the heartbeat and the little kicks she’s getting to her side.

However there is one question that manages to bring her out of her trance real quick.

“How’d the baby get in your tummy?”

The room falls silent as Jake lets go of the doppler, letting it fall onto the bed with a soft thump.

Amy snaps her head up to see Zoey looking right at her, her eyes furrowed with curiosity. She’s seen that look hundreds of times; it’s the same look Jake gets when he’s thinking through all the possible outcomes of a case.

“Mommy?” Zoey asks again. Her eyes flicker between Amy’s eyes and her belly. “How’d the baby get in there?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

For all of the binders and all of the tabs she’s created for this pregnancy and how to explain it to Zoey, Amy never even thought about making one for this particular question.

Rookie mistake.

Amy looks up from her daughter to Jake, who’s just as shocked as she is. Amy raises her eyebrows, hoping he would have some brilliant idea for how to answer their daughter’s latest question.  He merely scrunches his face up with an alarmed shake of the head.

“Well,” Amy starts, “Mommies grow babies in their tummies.”

“I know that,” huffs Zoey. “But how did it get inside?”

“It’s -- uh, well it’s kinda like…”

“Like what?”

Amy shoots Jake another panicked look, trying to telepathically get him to step in. Thankfully he seems to get the message.

“It’s magic, Zo,” he explains, pulling something out of his ass based on his wild expression. “Yeah! When two people love each other a magic spell gets placed on them and it takes part of the mommy and part of the daddy and puts them together in the mommy’s tummy. Then it grows and grows until it’s a baby and it’s ready to come out. How cool is that?!”

“Yeah that is kinda cool,” Zoey says thoughtfully. She’s quiet for a second, then, “Will I have a baby in my tummy?”

“If you want to, baby,” Amy says, pursing her lips as she tries not to laugh at Jake’s terrified expression. “But not for a long, long time,” she adds.

Zoey furrows her eyebrows before nodding. “Okay. Can I hear the heartbeat again?”

“Yes!” Jake exclaims a little too quickly as he fumbles for the doppler. Amy covers her mouth to hide her giggles, which earns her a flick to the shoulder. “Rude,” he mouths.

“You love me,” she shoots back.

She expects some snappy comeback, but as always Jake continues to surprise her. He leans over, catching her lips in the softest kiss.

“Yes I do.”

—

Later on after Zoey’s had her fill of the baby she decides to go play in her room, leaving Jake and Amy alone.

“So magic, huh?” Amy asks at once, giving Jake an amused smirk. “Did our Hogwarts letters just get lost in the mail, or…?”

“Hey, I didn’t hear you coming up with better!” Jake says defensively. “Besides, at least she bought it. Now hopefully she won’t ask about it again for a while.”

“That’s true…” she trails off before letting out a groan. “God, our daughter is too curious for her own good.”

“And just think, soon there will be two of them,” says Jake, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Amy can’t help but melt as he lowers himself down so he’s laying on his side, propping his head on his hand. “I love you, baby girl.”

Amy feels the slightest nudge right as Jake places his other hand on the swell of her stomach. Based on Jake’s non-existent reaction, the kick isn’t strong enough to be felt on the outside. Usually she tells Jake when the baby moves, but this one she decides to keep to herself. It won’t be long until the kicks aren’t just for her. For now she’d rather keep it that way. Instead she runs her hand through the curls at the nape of Jake’s neck, relishing the rare moment of tranquility as Jake continues to trace patterns all across her stomach.

It’s Jake who finally breaks the silence.

“Wanna listen to her heartbeat again without a four-year-old asking a billion questions?”

Amy grins. “Oh you know it.”

----

III. “Is this my baby?”

Amy is nervous.

Well, she’s a multitude of things. She’s tired and sore and excited and terrified and so, so, so deliriously happy. But right now, she’s mostly nervous.

It’s not that she thinks anything bad will happen. They’ve been preparing for this. Not to mention Zoey’s been asking everyday for the past month when the baby will get here. She’s constantly been telling both her parents -- and everyone else she knows for that matter -- all the things she wants to do with her baby sister when she gets here. They’re gonna play Ninja Turtles, watch Moana, read all her favorite books, you name it. Amy and Jake have tried explaining that the baby won’t be able to play for a little bit, but Zoey doesn’t seem to care. She’s just too excited. She even made a little to-do list of all the activities. Granted, it’s a piece of paper with a bunch of colored squiggles, but still. The point is, the girl’s excited to have a little sister.

So really Amy shouldn’t be nervous at all. They’re ready for this.

But still, there’s a part of her that remembers the horror stories she’s read about where the older kid threw a tantrum when they realized they weren’t the only child getting mom and dad’s attention. It’s that very thought that’s been running through her head since Jake left to pick up Zoey from his mom’s. What if that’s Zoey’s reaction? What if she hates her sister?

The tiniest movement from the hours old bundle in her arms grabs Amy’s attention. Her gaze is brought back to her daughter, who’s face scrunches up before stretching into the most adorable yawn.

Amy can feel her heart exploding into a million little pieces. God, her daughter is breathtaking.

How could anyone hate her?!

Truth be told, there’d been a tiny part of her that was worried she wouldn’t love this baby as much as she loves Zoey. It was a fear she never voiced, not even to Jake. She didn’t want anyone thinking she was going to be a terrible mother, or that she’d already somehow picked a favorite child.  But sitting here in her hospital bed with their beautiful baby who has the darkest hair and tiniest nose she can feel all those fears disappear.

“Because I love you so much, yes I do,” Amy whispers, bringing the baby up to eye level. She closes her eyes and plants the softest kiss on her daughter’s forehead. “You beautiful, beautiful girl.”

The baby blinks before looking right back at Amy and she thinks there’s no question who’s eyes she inherited.

Jake had put it best before he left to pick up Zoey.  

“She’s like an opposite Harry Potter, babe! Looks just like her mom except her eyes. Pretty sure those are mine.”

“He’s right, you know,” Amy says, kissing the baby’s cheek this time before tucking her back into her arms. She runs a finger over her cheek. “Your dad is actually right a lot of the time, but we don’t tell him that. Can’t have him getting cocky.”

Her phone buzzes on her bedside table.

“I bet I know who that is,” Amy sings as she picks up the phone to check her texts. Sure enough, she’s right. She types up a quick response before turning her attention back to her daughter. “Your daddy and sister are on their way up. Zoey’s so excited to meet you. Although, you might want to clear your schedule. It sounds like she’s going to be keeping you pretty busy,” she jokes.

The baby lets out a tiny squeal.

“I know!” Amy exclaims softly. “You two are gonna have so much fun.”

With her free hand she grabs the plastic bassinet over to her side before gently lowering the baby onto the bedding. She doesn’t want Zoey to feel threatened, so she’s decided open arms would be her best option. Besides, she needs her hands to be free so she properly hug her firstborn; it’s only been 24 hours but she misses her question queen so much it hurts.

While she waits for the other half of her family to arrive, Amy takes the opportunity to study her daughter‘s features. Looks wise the girls are pretty similar, but there are a few differences she’s picked up on; they share the same chin and eyes and they both have the Santiago nose, but while Zoey has her dad’s mouth and hair color, their newest addition definitely favored Amy. And while she’s only been in the world for eight hours, this little girl is proving to be much more, well, chill than their eldest.

Although that could be because of the fact that she was born right on schedule on a sunny morning in July rather than almost three weeks early in the middle of a Halloween Heist.

“But who’s to say. Right, cutie?” Amy coos, running a finger over the baby’s fine, dark hair.

A quiet knock on the door echoes through the quiet hospital room, causing Amy’s grip on the bassinet to tighten. She doesn’t have time to even invite them in before the door bursts open.

“MOMMY!!!”

Zoey races into the room wearing the “World’s Best Big Sister” shirt they’d bought for her a couple months ago followed by a slightly frazzled Jake. His hair is still stuck up in a million directions and Amy’s pretty sure his shirt’s on backwards, making him look just as exhausted as she feels.

“Zoey, remember what we talked about?” Jake asks softly, causing Zoey to stop in her tracks in the middle of the room. “We need to be gentle, okay?”

“Oh yeah. Sorry.” Zoey drops her voice to a whisper before continuing to inch towards the bed. She gives Amy a toothy grin. “Hi Mommy.”

“Hey, Zo-bug,” says Amy, returning her daughter’s smile. She pats the spot to her left and Zoey immediately climbs up and curls into Amy’s side. “How was your night at Nana’s?”

“Good,” Zoey replies, her voice muffled by the hospital gown and her mom’s side. “We had ice cream with oreos in it.”

“Ooh that sounds so yummy. Maybe we should get some of that for our apartment,” Amy says, brushing a hand through one of Zoey’s curly pigtails. “Did Daddy do your hair?”

But Amy’s question goes unanswered, as Zoey is now looking curiously at the bassinet, or rather the tiny bundle inside the bassinet. Amy smiles up at Jake, who returns it with an excited grin of his own.  He’s got his phone out, already taking copious amounts of photos.

“What do you see?” Amy murmurs into her daughter’s ear.

In true Zoey fashion, she answers with a question. It is officially the cutest, best question she’s ever asked.

“Is that my baby?”

Amy lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, Zo, that’s your baby sister. That’s Sarah. Sarah Grace Peralta.”

“Oh.” Zoey’s still mesmerized. She sits up so she’s no longer in Amy’s arms and reaches out, pressing a finger against the plastic. “Hi, Sarah.”

Sarah flails her arm free from her swaddler.

“Look, Bug! She’s waving at you,” says Jake. Out of the corner of her eye Amy can see him moving closer, taking a spot on the couch to get a better view.

“Yeah…” Zoey trails off before looking up at Amy. “Can I hold her?”

“Of course,” says Amy. She sits up and carefully lifts Sarah into her arms before looking up at Jake. “You wanna grab the hand sanitizer from my bag?”

“Oh yeah.” Jake jumps from his spot and sifts through Amy’s overnight bag before pulling out the giant bottle of Purell she’d bought a few weeks ago. He sits down on the bed and pours a dollop into his hand. “Come here, Zo. Let’s get your hands squeaky clean.”

“Why?”

“Because Sarah hasn’t had time to get used to germs like we have. So we want to make sure she doesn’t get sick,” he explains.

“Oh okay,” says Zoey, holding her hands out for Jake. “Kinda like when we go to your work? There are germs there too, right Mommy?”

“Exactly,” says Amy with a nod. “Now, how about you go sit in Daddy’s lap and he’ll help you hold the baby?”

Zoey nods fervently, scrambling across the bed and plopping herself onto Jake’s legs. “I’m ready!” she announces.

Amy bites her lip as she smiles back at her daughter. She can already feel the tears forming and Zoey hasn’t even held her yet. But seeing Zoey so excited and watching Jake help her hold her arms the right way is just too much for her hormonal brain to handle.

“Okay, baby. Here you go. Be gentle, okay?” Amy carefully places Sarah in Jake and Zoey’s arms, making sure her head was supported by Jake.

Zoey is silent, her eyes growing wide as she felt the baby’s weight in her arms. She’s more still than she’s been in months, which honestly is freaking Amy out. Zoey is never this quiet. Is something wrong? Does she already hate her? What could possibly be going through her daughter’s brain right now?!

Jake, on the other hand, is completely calm.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?” he asks, his voice low, steady.

“Mmhm,” Zoey says. She doesn’t take her eyes off the baby. “She’s so cute.”

Jake smiles, leaning down to nuzzle the top of Zoey’s head with his cheek. “You’re doing so well, Zo. You wanna give your baby a kiss?”

Zoey nods, slowly leaning down and planting the softest kiss on Sarah’s cheek.

Oh god, if Amy wasn’t crying before she definitely is now. This is better than anything she could’ve imagined. Her three favorite people are loving on each other and being so sweet it actually hurts her heart. It’s so pure, so warm. It’s better than anything she could have possibly imagined. She’s honestly surprised she hasn’t completely melted into a puddle in the middle of her bed.

While Jake and Zoey keep fawning over Sarah, Amy reaches over and grabs both her phone and a box of tissues off the table. She hastily wipes at her eyes before snapping picture after picture, hoping at least one of them turns out. Jake’s going to want to remember this. Hell, she’s gonna wanna remember this.

At one point Jake looks up and makes eye contact with Amy, and that’s when she sees he’s been crying too. Amy cocks her head, wanting to make sure he’s okay. Jake nods back, his eyes shining.

“Just happy,” he mouths.

She juts her lip out. “Love you,” she whispers. Because she does. She loves Jake Peralta with all her heart.

He grins, biting his lower lip. “Love you too.”

Not to be outdone, Zoey looks up to see where her dad’s attention has gone.

“Mommy, why you crying?” she asks, looking alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

Amy laughs, wiping at her eyes again. “Oh nothing, baby. These are happy tears.” She reaches out and runs a hand down Zoey’s arm and squeezing her hand. “I just love you and your baby sister so much.”

“I love you too, Mommy,” says Zoey. She gives Sarah another kiss. “And I love my baby.”

And that’s how Amy Santiago-Peralta died.

Just kidding. She doesn’t die.

She does, however, go through a whole box of tissues as Sarah gets passed from Zoey to Jake and back to her. Zoey’s never far from her sister, always wanting to hold her hand or give her a kiss.

Between Amy and Jake they take almost a hundred photos, and Amy already has one of them picked out as her new desk photo (Holt says to not keep photos on your desk but she can’t help it, she likes to see her daughter -- no, daughters -- faces while she works). It’s a selfie Jake took. He’s smiling his softest, close-lipped smile with Zoey in his lap, not looking at the camera but at Sarah. The baby is fast asleep in Amy’s arms, and Amy herself is smiling so wide you can see her molars if you look hard enough. It’s not a perfect photo -- Zoey’s a little blurry and the bags under Amy’s eyes wouldn’t fit in the overhead compartment of an airplane -- but it’s perfect to her.

It’s her family.