#whoever owns this. excuse me can i marry your vehicle

[seeyouonsaturn]

Just walked past this very handsome man on my way home and um??? Excuse me sir???? Are you single?????

[nevertheless-moving]

Star Wars AU #20: MacenJar AU

Inspired by this meme and with permission from @simpskywalker

This au is dedicated to everyone who told me that this concept ‘gave them a headache’ or ‘psychic damage’. Especially that special someone who begged me to ‘please stop’ because ‘i hate this, i hate this so much’ and told me ‘please don’t say more words about this.’

Crack Lies Ahead, enough to consume a man. I have spoken.

“Ani. Ani. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Hmm?” The dulcet sounds of Padme calling his name dragged Anakin from sleep against his will. 

“Anakin, you have to get up.”

He groaned, rolling over. “...here’s my face...I’ll...be awake in a second...just sit down...I’m awake...”

“No, Anakin you have to leave, remember. You have a 5 AM take-off scheduled, and you made me promise I would get you up early this time, come on.”

She cruelly yanked the covers away. He gasped in betrayal. 

“My own wife...how could you.”

“Anakin if you’re not out of bed in the next 30 seconds the next time you beg to stay the night because ‘you can get up early, you swear’ I am kicking you out before anyone sits anywhere near anyone’s face, do you understand.”

He sat bolt upright and stumbled out of bed. “Ok, Ok, I’m up I- Padme!”

“Yes?” She asked sweetly, brushing her hair at the vanity. 

“It’s 3 AM!”

“Yes I know, you were going to stop at that bakery I recommended, remember?”

“You woke me up an hour and half early so I could stop at a bakery,” he asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, Anakin, it was your idea. It was going to be your cover, in case anyone wondered what you were doing in the building.”

“That is-” before he could call it the stupidest idea he had ever heard, the memory of promising Padme that staying the night was a good idea because it would facilitate his cunning ruse (he was distracted, ok? Padme was wearing a lot of layers) came rushing back.

“-right,” he finished lamely.

Padme just hummed and began braiding in her cosmetic forcefields. 

Anakin managed to stretch, complete his morning refresher run, and arrange his robes in a suitably decorous fashion by the time Padme had established the base layer of her hairstyle for the day.

A quick kiss- no goodbye, it hurt too much to say goodbyes in war - and Anakin was out the door. 

He idly scratched his chin, vacantly looking out the lift and vaguely considering growing a beard. The pre-dawn view was quickly replaced by metal walls as the ride dropped below the skyline.

The transparisteel pod began to slow scarcely one third of the way down. Anakin suppressed a groan and tried to arrange his expression in Jedi-stoic manner, hoping that whoever got in the lift with him would be too intimidated by seeing a Jedi close-up to think about what they were doing in a Senatorial Apartment building at 3:15 in the morning. If they ask, I’m visiting the famous Bebbisun Bakery. Bennison? BELLASAN. I’m visiting the Bellasan Bakery.

Actually, anyone getting into the elevator this early was probably also doing the walk of shame so it’s probably fi-KRIFFING SITH SPIT THAT’S

“Master Windu!” Anakin cleared his throat, trying to lower his voice an octave. “Good- Good Morning!”

Windu’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Ah. Knight Skywalker. Good morning to you as well,” he replied, stepping in the elevator, doors closing behind.

The lift descended as Anakin’s heart rate skyrocketed. This was it. Windu had to be here for Anakin. What other possible explanation could there be? WHY WASN’T HE SAYING ANYTHING?

Wait.

What other possible explanation...could...why wasn’t he saying ANYTHING?

Anakin scrutinized Master Windu out of the corner of his eye. Were those...the same robes he was wearing yesterday? They looked like the same robes but then again...pretty much all robes looked the same so this was probably a stupid way to figure things out. Fuck, it was too early for this.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t get a sense of the Master’s surface emotions. But his underlying aura seemed...happy? Typically Windu's serene presence had a tinge of righteous fury (something that had frightened him back when he was a child). But now that ever present vaapad edge was... softened? Anakin wracked his tired brain for a more reasonable explanation than- than the obvious but obviously impossible. He had to projecting. Right? Then again...couplings weren’t forbidden (even if Anakin couldn’t quite understand how people enjoyed just- having sex without any attachment).

The corners of Anakin’s lips twitched. The Master of the Order. Getting laid. Master Windu. In the Senatorial apartments. Mace Windu. What level had he gotten on? Above aides...diplomats probably. Should he ask? Force, this was too good- he couldn’t not ask.

Windu stared at him cooly and the knight instantly sobered. What was he thinking? Windu was obviously trying to trick him! If he said anything, Windu would turn it against him! Well, he wouldn’t be fooled so easily. Anakin spent the next several levels of descent staring forward, determined not to be the one to break the silence. 

He was so focused that he didn’t notice the lift slowing prematurely again until the doors opened; an elderly Rodian hobbled in. The two Jedi moved even further apart to allow the man some space.  The lift closed and newcomer glanced at the humans curiously. 

“Aren’t you Jedi? What are two Jedi doing here so early?”

“Bakery,” Mace and Anakin responded in unison, heads snapping to stare at the other in surprise.

The Rodian chuckled. “Oh, that Bellasan place, right?”

“Yes,” Windu replied smoothly. “They have a famously unique caf blend.”

“And you can’t get Sweesonberry rolls anywhere else,” Anakin added quickly, not letting the opportunity to firm up his cover go to waste.

“You mammals and your carbohydrates,” The elderly reptilian clucked, bemused.

Knight Skywalker and Master Windu exchanged wary looks. The door pinged open on level 4848. 

“Enjoy!” the overly entertained Rodian called out as they stepped out from the closing doors.

Anakin cleared his throat. “After you, Master Windu,” he said politely. CHECKMATE FUCKER.

But Windu just nodded serenely, striding confidently ahead, past the checkpoints and into the attached upper-crust market. After a very short walk, Anakin found himself in line behind Mace Windu at a pastry shop in the basement of his wife’s apartment building.

Anakin blearily thought that sentence through again, then subtly pinched the inside of his arm.

Nope, he was awake.

Every second that passed Anakin had to fight the steadily increasing urge to blurt out something stupid, and possibly incriminating, if not both. Just say something bland! Nothing about why they’re both here so early. Nothing about coming here before. Something casual.

“Smells good,” Anakin said.

Nailed it!

“Indeed,” Mace replied.

I’m a genius! He actually thinks I’m here for the bakery! He’s never going to suspect a thing! He was probably here for some boring pre-dawn meeting, and now I’ve got the perfect excuse to come visit Padme whenever! I can probably start sneaking off more often, I’ve just got to remember to bring back a pasty or something. And he can’t even say shit about un-Jedi like consumption!

“Skywalker-”

Oh no. Please be about the bakery. Pleasebeaboutthe

“Believe me when I tell you that I’d rather not ask-”

Oh NO. THIS ISN’T GOING TO BE ABOUT THE BAKERY. I’M AN IDIOT.

“-But did you fly here in a temple speeder?”

Cold sweat started to trickle down Anakin’s back as they shuffled forward automatically in the surprisingly long queue. Guess that’s why Padme woke me up so early.

“Knight Skywalker? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, Master Windu, sorry- I was, uh, distracted by the specials board. I, um, have my own hoverbike. Built it myself. No temple resources involved.”

“Sounds...distinctive.” Windu’s tone seemed neutral, but the way he pinched the bridge of his nose was obviously irritated. They stepped forward again. Why are so many people at this bakery so early? Guess we’re far enough down that day/night cycles don’t matter so much. Oh kriff, he’s massaging his temples now. Why is he mad about the bike? Is he going to ask where I landed it? Fuck.

Anakin swallowed the lump in his throat. “I- I thought it would be better to take personal property. Since this isn’t exactly order business.”

“That’s very responsible of you. Such...separation of personal from professional is an important skill for a Jedi.” 

The trickle of sweat down his spine increased. The Chosen One discretely wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his sleeves and prayed that his outer robe was hiding any growing pit stains. 

Are we...actually talking about this? Is he going to admit to having an affair? Is he going to tell me to keep this quiet? I CAN BARELY KEEP MY OWN RELATIONSHIP SECRET! Does he know about Padme? Does he know we’re married? Is this conversation still about the bakery visit? Is HE married?

“However...such a vehicle might not be the most discrete. And discretion is also an important skill.”

Is he giving me permission to use the temple landspeeders to visit padme? Is he telling me to take the bus? WAIT! IS THIS A METAPHOR? Is he telling me to come here less? Is this still about the bakery? Did I actually check that I wasn’t still asleep or did I just dream that I checked?

“Do you understand, Knight Skywalker”

“I- uhh. I mean- well, ummm- OH look, it’s your turn to order!”

Master Windu stepped up to the counter. 

“Hello, again! Same as last time?”

OH FORCE GODS HE’S A REGULAR. THIS IS IT. I’M NEVER GOING TO GET TO SEE OBI-WAN OR ASHOKA AGAIN AND PADME’S CAREER IS GOING TO BE RUINED AND

“The same blend please, but please add on one of your Sweesonberry rolls- a friend recommended them.”

...Did Mace Windu just call me his friend?

“Excellent choice! Your friend has good taste!”

Mace Windu stepped to the side and Anakin Skywalker stepped up. “...I’ll have what he had.” 

A minute or two later, they were walking back to the lift, matching disposamugs and flimsibags in hand. 

To try and delay the inevitable, the pale and now very sweaty young Jedi took a sip of caf. He raised both brows involuntary. “This is...really good. Holy kriff. I don’t usually drink caf for the flavor but...wow.”

“Worth the trip?” Windu asked. Anakin choked a little but successfully managed to swallow. He took another sip to avoid answering. 

Windu took a bite of his roll, making a small noise of appreciation, “The pastry is also excellent. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth but this is remarkably smooth...I can’t say I’ve ever had anything quite like it.”

“Floral, right?” Anakin said, grinning into his cup. 

“Yes, that’s a good description.” Ha! I told Padme I was paying attention.

They drank companionably as the lift indicator dinged closer. 

“Skywalker...you’re parked on 4970, right?”

The knight nodded, too afraid to speak. The force seemed to swirl at the precipice of something. 

The Master sighed. “Look- I’ve got an unregistered van- this one time only, stow the speeder, and I’ll give you a ride back. If you’re visiting the bakery in the future- please take something with a closed cab. Last thing we need is the tabloids wondering where you’re going...”

Anakin nodded again, more eagerly again. He was practically being given permission to visit Padme! That was totally worth an excruciatingly awkward flight back to the temple! He just had to chew slowly so he couldn’t blurt out anything marriage related! He was a genius!

The lift opened.

“Jar-Jar!” Anakin said, surprised and pleased. “Wow, are you also here for the bakery? This place really is popular!”

“Ani! Little Ani! Wassa you doin here?” Jar-Jar looked around wildly, then stumbled out, foot catching at the gap. Windu darted forward and effortlessly saved the Gungan before he hit the floor, while Anakin stuck his arm forward to catch the closing door.

“Bakery, Jar Jar!” he said as he stepped inside. “I’d love to talk, but we’ve actually got to get back to the temple!”

Windu struggled to untangle himself from Jar-Jar, who was being particularly unhelpful about it, even for him. Wow he’s even clingier than usual this early in the morning. It’s nice how patient Master Windu is being; I feel like even Obi-Wan can be too hard on Jar-Jar sometimes.

“Actually Skywalker, why don’t you go on ahead and stow the bike- I just remembered I meant to pick something up for Council; I won’t take long.”

“Uh. Alright,” Anakin said, catching the keys. I guess I can’t really be late if I arrive with Master Windu.

“Ossa no!” Jar-Jar exclaimed sadly. “I was justa saying to Macey lassa night thatsa I missed talkin wit little Ani!”

Anakin smiled reassuringly as the lift began to close. “Don’t worry Jar-Jar! We’ll- catch uh-HOLD ON did you say LAST NIGHT?!”

Mace’s eyes closed in resignation as the door shut on the pair, Jar-Jar still tangled around the Jedi.

AND MACE WASN’T EVEN TRYING TO PUT HIM BACK UPRIGHT ANYMORE HOLY KRIFF JUST PUT THAT TOGETHER.

Anakin stared blankly at the metal walls as they rushed past. The lone Jedi Knight took a long sip of caff, then carefully placed the pastry bag and drink on the floor. He systematically wadded up the sleeve of his robe and shoved in his mouth. He then spent the next few minutes squealing with unholy glee while literally bouncing off the walls in a manner only accessible to a force sensitive in an elevator. He was still panting slightly when the lift opened on the primary parking level.

We can double date! Padme and I can host! I can help Mace and Jar-Jar plan their wedding! We can reform the order to allow for romantic love! I can be Jar-Jar’s best man! Padme and I can have another ceremony and Obi-Wan can give me away while Mace officiates and  and then we’ll all have sweesonbury cake and Jar-Jar can help teach our kids how to swim! 

With those dreamy thoughts running through his mind, it was child’s work to follow the the force to the unremarkable hovervan. He was humming to himself when Master Windu opened the door. 

He beamed at the older Jedi. Windu scowled in reply. Anakin smiled wider, unintimidated. He genuinely liked the Gungan, but anyone who could spend hours with Jar-Jar had to have a soft side.

“You know, Jar-Jar is a long time friend of Senator-”

“No.” Windu cut the eager words brusquely. 

Anakin shrank back, a little hurt.

(Maybe a lot hurt.)

Mace glanced over at the obviously crestfallen young General and sighed before amending his words.

“Not- Not right now, alright? Maybe if you’re miraculously more discrete about this than you are about your affection for Senator Amidala, then we can talk, understood?”

Anakin nodded with absolute determination, glimmering images of fairytale weddings visible once more. Distant, perhaps- but the chance was worth any amount of tongue biting. Now that there was a real, possible future where he could have it all, now that he knew Windu had a heart somewhere under his robes- he could be patient. 

He could be very patient.

Anakin calmed his grin down to a smaller, more Jedi-like smile, taking a sip of the cool but still really good caf. He channeled Obi-Wan’s most neutral diplomatic grace.

“Thank you for the ride, Master Windu. I appreciate it.”

Windu gave him an approving glance. “You’re more than welcome, Knight Skywalker.”

Feeling bold, he continued on with his best non-mocking impression of Obi-Wan.

"Have you had a chance to read the latest report on helmet redesigns? I think they might really improve peripheral vision without compromising concussive resistance.”

Mace hummed thoughtfully. “I have. I’m somewhat concerned about deploying such a radical change mid-campaign. Even better gear requires an adjustment period, and I’d rather minimize needless deaths while the troops readjust to hud flow.”

“Yes, that’s a reasonable concern, I was talking to Captain Rex-”

They spent the remainder of the flight chatting comfortably about troop safety and absentmindedly eating (or possibly stress eating in response to the prolonged absence of interpersonal conflict) the box of pastries Mace had picked up. When they arrived at the temple, they divvied up the remainder between them, quietly agreeing that there weren’t enough to share anyway. 

They continued their conversation, Master Windu accompanying him to the orbital loading bay. 

Obi-Wan rushed over in alarm at the sight of them approaching. “Anakin, there you are- I was starting to wonder if you’d make it. Terribly sorry Master Windu- I hope he wasn’t too much of a bother-”

“He’s not your padawan anymore, you don’t have to apologize for him. Though I do appreciate the reflex.”

“I suppose the concern isn’t completely baseless.” Anakin said, tone deliberately mildly. Mace chuckled slightly and Obi-Wan took a step back, slightly frightened by the sudden camaraderie. Anakin pretended to take a sip from his now empty disposamug to avoid fist pumping the air or cheering.

“I- Yes well- the important thing is you’re here in time for departure. What- what is that in the bag.”

Moment of Truth. Don’t freak out. Focus. Prove you can be discrete, THEN double dates, THEN Jedi Wedding Ceremony.

“Sweesonbury Roll,” Anakin answered placidly. He pretended to take another sip of caf. “Master Windu was kind enough to give me a ride from the bakery.”

“That’s- I’m sorry, what?” Anakin bit the inside of cheek to keep himself from reacting to Obi-Wan’s palpable bewilderment.

“I had to double back and get more, but we came straight here after,” Mace added helpfully, with zero hint of intentional mischief. “Oh and Skywalker- you can call me Mace if we’re not discussing temple business.”

Anakin SCREAMED (internally, of course). Outwardly, he simply bowed politely. “And you’re welcome to call me Anakin, of course.”

He deliberately avoided looking directly at Obi-Wan, his former Master’s bug-eyed reaction already pushing him to the edge, even just visible as it was out of the corner of his eye.

Windu nodded in return. “Safe travels you two. May the force with you.”

“And with you.” Anakin replied.

“May the force be with you,” Obi-Wan rushed to say, after a short delay.

Master Windu turned and exited the cargo bay doors. Anakin threw out the mug in a nearby bin, pulling out a roll and biting into it before turning to face Obi-Wan. They made eye-contact, each waiting for the other to break first. Usually that would be Anakin, but he had goals now. The Knight chewed. His Master’s eyes narrowed. The older man (who may have aged significantly in the last 5 minutes) finally broke.

“Who are you?”

Anakin just sighed, maintaining the Kenobi impression. “Come on Master, we don’t want to keep the troops waiting.” With that, he walked forward, hiding his smile as Obi-Wan followed closely at his heels. 

“Since when does my apprentice visit bakeries with Mace Windu?” Obi-Wan asked, almost desperately.

“You’re making it sound like a bigger deal than it is.” 

Master Kenobi sputtered as the pair opened the airlock for the short-range shuttle. 

Anakin mustered up an earnest smile. “Master? Would you mind flying- I’m still eating and-”

Obi-Wan made an incoherent noise of horrified outrage before fumbling for his communicator. 

“What are you doing?”

“NOTHING IS MAKING SENSE RIGHT NOW. EITHER YOU AND MACE NEED TO GO TO THE HEALING HALLS OR I DO!”

Anakin burst out laughing. “Relax Obi-Wan, I’m messing with you, holy shit. Obviously I’m flying.”

Obi-Wan slumped into the co-pilot seat, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t do that Anakin! My nerves are stretched thin enough by the war as it is-”

“Sorry, Sorry!”

They strapped in and took off, Anakin still chuckling occasionally, Obi-Wan scowling in irritation each time. 

They ascended above the towering skyline alongside the first rays of sunlight.

“So you didn’t go to a bakery with Master Windu this morning?”

“Uhh-”

[chimchimsauce]

XS (VII - Brick)

“Give me just a little bit MORE”

Being the son of the largest gang in the country, Kim Taehyung might as well be a prince. He is more powerful than any one man should be and is not afraid to get rid of anything - or anyone that gets in his way.

So when a man is unable to pay back the gigantic loan he owes Taehyung, the heir is all too happy to take his life. Moments away from pulling the trigger, a girl more beautiful than he’s ever seen bursts in and offers her life for her father’s. Taehyung knows right away that he wants her.

And Taehyung gets everything he wants.

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven 

Taehyung rides with YN to the reception hall, Jungkook now sitting up front next to the driver. YN stares out of the window, pretending that she cannot see Taehyung's gaze in the glass's reflection.

She wishes the weather would reflect her mood. The day is bright and sunny, not a storm cloud in sight. The people they drive past look are smiling, laughing without a care as they go about their everyday lives, smiling and being happy. What YN wouldn't do for the chance at that simple life again.

Of course, the drive to the reception is not long at all. Taehyung slides out of the vehicle, taking quick strides to go around the back of the car and open YN's door for her. He offers her his hand and she takes it, uttering a small "Thank you." He does not let her go as they waltz into the reception hall, a beautiful old building with exposed brick and lots of pretty greenery. It's someplace YN would have dreamed about visiting, a venue she would have picked herself.

Her new husband releases her once they're safely inside in one of the small back rooms the venue has.

"You've been doing so well," Taehyung says, his hand heavy on her bare shoulder, "I am so proud of you, darling."

"Thank you," YN says again robotically.

Taehyung hums contentedly, his long fingers tapping down her sides before landing on the zipper that closes her dress. YN freezes.

Is he going to make a move now? With people on their way here as they speak?

"Taehyung," YN breathes out.

He mobster quite likes the sound of his name coming from her throat. He'll be sure to wrangle it out of her a thousand times before the night is over.

"Yes, darling," Taehyung answers, pulling the zipper down.

"Are you . . . we're not . . ." YN can't form full sentences, petrified.

Taehyung places a kiss on his wife's neck, loving the way she trembles.

"So eager," he whispers, lips brushing against her skin, "Later, darling. We go have guests to entertain."

A knock on the door shatters the intensity in the room. The relief YN feels is immense.

"Yes?" Taehyung asks, his annoyance obvious.

He hadn't been planning on taking YN here, but she placed the thought in his head and now his head is filled with ideas of pinning her against the wall, the brick digging into her back and leaving bloody scrapes. It sounds like such a wonderful experience, but now someone has shattered it.

The door swings open and in waltzes Yoonji, still dressed in her usual uniform. Her face is blank, taking in the scene with no interest.

"You wanted me to prepare YN for the reception," she says breezily, addressing Taehyung only and pretending that YN isn't even there.

"Right," Taehyung says, running his hands through his hair.

YN can't help but look at his golden wedding ring.

"Make sure Miss Kim looks beautiful," Taehyung says, moving to leave, "Even though it's impossible for her not to."

YN has never wished to be unattractive until this moment. If she was ugly, this wouldn't be happening. But then again, if Taehyung hadn't been interested in her, he would have killed her and her parents on the spot.

When the door shuts, YN is alone with Yoonji. She smiles at the other women but Yoonji doesn't return it, silently moving about the room. In the corner, there is a clothing rack with a garment bag hanging on it. Yoonji unzips it and pulls out a floofy white dress, one that should stop around YN's knees. She finishes unzipping YN's wedding dress, ridding her of it. YN is glad; That thing weighs like forty pounds.

YN stands there in her lingerie, Yoonji's eyes raking up and down her figure before she turns away, muttering something under her breath. YN peeks down at herself. Is something wrong with her body?

"Is everything alright?" YN asks Yoonji, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Just fine," Yoonji says curtly, bending down to allow YN to step into the new dress.

Yoonji jerks the fabric up too quickly and YN trips, almost falling to the ground.

"Hey!" she shouts.

Yoonji ignores her, pulling the princess sleeves over YN's shoulders and zipping her up. Se guides the bride over to the small vanity, unboxing the awaiting makeup kit. Yoonji quickly touches up YN's makeup, ridding YN of the evidence of her first kiss with Taehyung. YN is happy to have her smudged lipstick wiped away and replaced. If only she could do it with the skin that monster touched.

Yoonji rids YN of her veil and weaves flowers and gold into her hair, finishing her work. It took her just over twenty minutes to complete before another knock sounds on the door. It's Taehyung. He barges in without waiting for an answer.

"Is she ready yet?"

"Yes, sir," Yoonji says, stepping out of the way and disappearing down the hallway.

Taehyung extends his hands to hers, raising her hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Disgust washes over YN but she ignores it, knowing better than to pull away from him.

"I have some very important people I want you to meet, darling," he says to her as they walk into the main room.

People mingle amongst themselves, looking up when the new Mr. and Mrs. Kim enter the room. They're swarmed almost immediately, random people coming up to them to wish them well and get Taehyung's attention. YN is reminded of just how powerful the man she was forced to marry is by the way people are eager to get into his good graces.

YN's face hurts from all the smiling she has to do, greeting people she knows could kill her in a matter of seconds. It pains her that she sticks so close to Taehyung. Better the monster you know that the one you don't.

Every so often, YN will allow her gaze to wander, looking over those people who have yet to congratulate them. In the very corner, YN spots her own parents, locking eyes with her mother. Her mom is doing her best to not look terrified, but fear rolls off of her in waves. YN wants nothing more than to run over there and feel her loving embrace, pulling her close and breathing in the scent that has comforted her ever since she was small.

Her parents may not have had much, but they were abundant in love, making sure YN always felt safe and happy in her home. The memories of her childhood suddenly feel eons away, almost as if she had never lived them at all. Was it even her who was comforted after a hard day at school? Was it even her who crawled into her parents' bed when thunder struck? YN's mother sends her a shaky smile. YN has never seen her mother look so weak.

"Why don't we go say 'Hi', darling?" Taehyung asks her suddenly, whisking her away from the crowd of gangsters before she can even protest.

YN doesn't trust Taehyung as far as she can throw him. The less often he's around her parents, the better.

"Hello, Mother," Taehyung says brightly to YN's mom, much too happy for their circumstances, "Doesn't YN look beautiful?"

"She does," her mother says, voice barely above a whisper.

She reaches for YN but Taehyung pulls her away, his grasp too tight on her waist.

"Excuse me for being a little . . . possessive . . ." Taehyung says, "I don't want anyone to accidentally ruin my beautiful bride's dress. Well, except for me."

He laughs wholeheartedly and YN and her mother are forced to join in, both of them hiding their disgust.

YN's father appears by his wife's side, a flute of champagne in his hands. He's squeezing the glass so tightly YN is worried that it'll shatter.

"You -" YN's father begins, only to be cut off by YN in a panic.

"Daddy -" she says, aware of Taehyung's heated stare, "Why don't you take Mama and go dancing? I know you love to dance."

YN chuckles awkwardly at her lie, relieved when her father nods wordlessly and sweeps his wife away to the dance floor.

"It's about time to have our first dance," Taehyung remarks, whirling YN into the center of the room.

As if someone had been waiting for this moment, a spotlight beams down on them and music begins to play. All eyes are on them. YN has never even attempted to learn ballroom dancing but she's too afraid to say something now.

She follows Taehyung's footsteps as best she can, studying his feet and careful to not step on him.

"Look at me," he commands and she does, gasping a bit when she sees how intensely he's staring her down, "You are so beautiful . . . so sweet. And you're all mine."

Taehyung spins YN and she falls into him, her hands splayed out on his chest.

"Say it," Taehyung demands, wrapping his arms around her waist and turning around himself.

YN is sure this isn't the proper form but all she can focus on is the feel of him under his thin shirt, lean and strong. In some ways, Taehyung being a handsome man feels like a punishment within itself. But she supposes she shouldn't be surprised. The Devil was the most handsome angel of all.

"Say what?" YN asks as he dips her low to the ground, his large hand on her thigh.

Her cheeks flush red when he toys with the little lace garter she was forced to wear.

"Say that you're mine."

"I'm yours," YN says.

She has never hated herself so much.

"Good girl," he whispers in her ear, biting her once more.

Something tells her that he gets his kicks from causing pain.

The music ends with a flourish, Taehyung bowing to YN and kissing her on her cut up palms.

For the rest of the evening, Taehyung allows YN to roam about while he speaks business with whoever he needs to speak business with. Her parents have disappeared and YN prays it's because they were asked to leave since Taaehyung had gotten his fill of rubbing it into their faces.

Every entry is guarded by big men with even bigger guns, so any chance of escape (or even a moment alone) is thwarted. With nothing other to do and a growing fear of what will come after, YN turns to the seemingly endless supply of alcohol. She has never been a big drinker but right now she's chasing a blackout, wanting to remember as little of this day as possible.

"Maybe you should slow down," a voice says.

YN turns and sees a vaguely familiar man.

"Who are you?" she asks him.

So far, no one has been brave enough to approach her, no doubt afraid of gaining Taehyung's wrath. This man, however, seems relaxed, completely at ease.

"I'm Jimin," he says, "We've met a few times before, but haven't been formally introduced. I'm Taehyung's - and now yours - driver."

"Ooooh," YN says, her words slurring just a touch.

"I knew I knew you from . . . somewhere," she says, placing a hand on her hip.

"You should probably stop drinking," he says, moving to take the flute away from her.

YN steps back, jerking her glass and spilling a bit. It burns in her cuts and she whimpers, still refusing to let go of it.

"I can still remember. I don't want to remember today."

"Well we can't be having that," a new voice - Taehyung - calls out.

YN's blood runs cold as he yanks the glass away from her and shoves it into Jimin's awaiting hands. She can tell that he's angry and it's paralyzing.

"The Mrs. and I will be heading out now," Taehyung announces to the crowd, "It was a pleasure having you all here. Thanks so much for coming."

He guides the stumbling YN out of the venue, Jimin hot on their heels. In the back of the car, Taehyung hands YN a water bottle, forcing her to drink all of it.

"You shouldn't have done that," he says, glaring at her, "I'll make sure you remember every second of this day."

Chapter Eight

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[bauslut]

as you are | ii.

word count: 4.938k

warnings: cursing, discussion of sexual assault, discussion of murder, blood, gore, references to rape, profiling, lots and lots of tears

a/n: so this is the second chapter of my aaron hotchner fic! (sadly criminal minds lives in my head rent free, so does thomas gibson at the moment) the first chapter will be linked below. let me know if you want to be added to a taglist! enjoy :)

| i. |

(i do not own this gif)

“here you are,” jj bore a kind smile as she slid a manila folder towards the brunette, “here’s your official welcome to the bau.”

“she’s sitting in my spot,” rossi chuckled, “but i don’t mind.”

“are you sure?” rowan stammered, a rosy blush painting her cheeks, “i-i can get up and move--”

“don’t sweat it,” rossi nodded curtly, “there are plenty of open seats.”

“hey babygirl,” a wide, jovial, grin painted morgan’s lips as a woman entered the room, her blonde locks intricately woven into an up-do, “don’t you look delicious today?”

“as always,” the woman scrunched her nose, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, “how are you this morning baby-cakes?”

“hey there!” a chirp startled rowan, “i’m emily, but around here, i’m referred to as prentiss--”

“i am afraid we do not have time for introductions,” a stern voice echoed through the space, “we are fbi agents, not kindergartners. we can have icebreakers or whatever it is you’re doing on the jet.”

rowan choked back a sharp retort as hotch strode towards a whiteboard, his spine straightened, chest puffed out slightly. sliding into her seat, her hands settled on the armrests, a puff of air exhaling from her lips. morgan sat on her left, munching on a bag of chips ahoy, while prentiss was on her right, sifting through the papers in the folder.

“cookie?” morgan rattled the bag.

“not right now, thank you,” rowan whispered, lips curving into a small smile.

“i’m about to begin discussing the case,” hotch shot rowan a glare, words barbed with venom, “so listen up.”

he pinned several images on the board, bile rising in rowan’s throat as her focus transitioned to the pictures. prentiss sucked in a shaky breath, while morgan muttered a strand of incoherent mumbles.

the images progressively became more grotesque as they spanned across the board. mangled, beaten, and bloodied corpses were presented, the bile approaching the back of her mouth as she realized the age range.

the bodies were children, their jugulars slashed, lacerations and bruises littering their tiny frames.

“there has been a surge of murders in the rural farm town of homer, illinois. in the past week, there have been a total of five. all of the victims were children, with no specific physical attributes,” hotch cleared his throat, “however, all of them bear one aspect in common.”

“they’re all boys,” reid murmured, “from the images it appears as if they’re about ages eleven or twelve.”

“then they are pre-pubescent boys,” rowan’s voice was clear, pairs of eyes falling on her as she spoke, “i’ve seen something like this before, when i was working in columbus. we had a ring of traffickers who preferred this age range.”

“and?” morgan arched a brow, “why pre-pubescent boys?”

“hotch,” rowan nearly trembled as the supervisor’s cold gaze shifted on her, “i-if i may ask, were there any signs of assault or rape?”

“the severity of sexual assault varied on each victim.”

“you said that they have no physical attributes in common but looking at these photos,” reid shook his head slightly, “the brunettes are the only ones who have lacerations covering their entire bodies. the blondes, the only sign of violence demonstrated is the murder itself, the incision along the jugular.”

“could it be that our unsub has something against brunettes?” morgan inquired.

“potentially,” rowan blinked, scanning over the text, “it also says here in the autospies that the only boys who were sexually assaulted were the brunettes. i may be going on a whim here, but i think our unsub is lashing out on the brunettes for a reason. it could be power, dominance, you name it.”

rossi whistled, “look at you, rivers. already building a profile and we’ve only met for five minutes.”

“sadly i’ve seen a lot of this before,” rowan let out a sigh, rustling through papers, “it also says here that the bodies were all found at homer lake forest preserve. i have a strong premonition that our unsub is male.”

“and what makes you say that?” hotch countered.

“women don’t like getting their hands dirty,” rowan shrugged, “would you want to drag the body of a child out into the woods at night?”

“how were the bodies discovered?” jj bit her lip, a trace of fear glimmering in her icy blue depths.

“they were found by a new fisherman every morning around dawn, in the same location. they were located about half a mile from the entrance of the preserve,” hotch tossed the file onto the table, “our unsub is bold.”

“he wanted the bodies to be found,” rossi added, “he’s arrogant.”

“or he’s sloppy,” rowan remarked, “he could be killing just on that need burning within him, with no remorse or any sort of emotion within him at all--”

“we need to get to homer as soon as possible,” hotch interrupted, glancing at his phone, “it’s ten o’clock in the morning. it’s only a matter of time before another body is found.”

“where’s the closest airport?” jj folded her arms across her chest.

“willard airport in champaign-urbana,” reid piped up, “other than that, the other closest one is in bloomington-normal.”

“and how do you know that?” morgan’s eyes widened.

“champaign-urbana is the home of the university of illinois,” reid swallowed thickly, “i’ve been there a few times. it’s an exceptional school for engineering, truly one of the greatest in the country--”

“all right, all right,” morgan stuck out a hand, “you answered my question.”

“wheels up in thirty,” hotch announced, plucking the file off the shiny wood.

rowan followed the others in suit, filing out of the space. trailing reid, she was the second last to leave the room, hotch right behind her, deep, smooth, voice filling her ears.

“i need to speak with you agent rivers.”

“yes?” she swiveled on her heel, facing the supervisor, folding her arms across her chest.

“i hope you packed a different pair of shoes in your go-bag,” every single word was brimmed with a firmness, as if it wasn’t a statement, but more of an order.

“i did not.”

“i don’t believe you’d want to get a single drop of blood on them,” fury bubbled up within rowan as he spoke, chestnut eyes as icy as ever, “i know how much they are. they’re expensive.”

“can you just let it go?” rowan spat, “i’m wearing the fucking shoes whether you like it or not. it’s such an insignificant matter compared to what we have ahead of us.”

“you realize you’re speaking to your boss, with this tone, right?”

“i don’t fucking care,” tears brimmed rowan’s eyes, “they’re not mine.”

“excuse me?”

“t-they’re my sister’s,” rowan stumbled over the words, “i haven’t seen her in six months. please, just let me have a piece of her with me.”

for just a moment, hotch’s tough exterior cracked, a flicker of sympathy flashing in his gaze, “okay.”

“just okay?”

hotch paused, inhaling a deep breath, “i was going to write you up, but those boots are better than a necklace or bracelet getting caught on a branch or piece of furniture. just make sure you tuck the laces in.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“gotta love the midwest,” morgan placed his hands on his hips, chest rising and falling.

“you love it?” reid’s lips curled in disgust, “it smells like manure.”

“it smells like home,” rowan giggled, shouldering her way through the men, “c’mon, let’s go.”

“well she’s eager,” rossi chuckled, turning to hotch, “where are we setting up?”

“there’s the local p.d. in homer,” hotch slung his bag over his shoulder, “the station is only about four miles from the forest preserve.”

“i was doing some reading on the village of homer,” reid stated, “there’s only about one thousand people who live there. it’s such a tiny place, and as hotch mentioned, it’s only four miles from the preserve, surely the unsub lives there.”

“or he lives close to the lake,” rowan pointed out, “there are so many homes out there surrounding the lake in the countryside. well, i would say cornfields.”

“why do you say that?” reid breathed, “d-do you have--”

“it’s just an assumption,” a slight smirk crept onto her lips as she shoved her bag into the back of the suburban, “you don’t need to have insane intelligence to predict something like that.”

stepping into the vehicle, rowan slid into the back seats, figuring that hotch would take the wheel, while rossi would sit shotgun. yet, curiosity buzzed in her mind as rossi took the wheel, while reid settled into the passenger seat.

“you’ve got to be shitting me,” she muttered as hotch thrust open the door, “rossi, are you usually the one who drives?”

“typically, no,” in the rearview mirror, rowan snorted when she noticed the shit-eating grin plastered on the agent’s face, “but i figured that you and hotch would love to get to know one another on the way there.”

“can i pick the station?” reid bounced in the seat, hands flying to the knobs and levers.

“pick something good, find an oldies station or something. maybe they’ll play back in black,” within seconds, the suburban was in motion, rossi revving the engine, “i plan on racing morgan, jj, and prentiss to the station. whoever loses has to buy dinner.”

“this is ridiculous,” hotch rolled his eyes, the vibration of his phone piquing rowan’s curiosity.

“by the way,” reid turned in his seat, facing hotch, “who’s been calling you so frequently today?”

“haley,” rowan tilted her head as the name spat from hotch’s mouth, “it’s not important.”

haley. from the sound of it, she was hotch’s significant other, girlfriend, fiancee, even a spouse, maybe. rowan’s eyes drifted downwards to his lap, where his hands rested on his knees. in the light, a golden band gleamed on his left ring finger.

so, hotch was married. he had a wife.

but there was something in his tone that was unsettling. were they fighting? having the typical lover’s quarrel? maybe that’s why hotch was so distant and cruel, he was constantly dealing with his marriage.

“so tell us a little about you, rowan,” rossi was far ahead of the other suburban, shades resting on the bridge of his nose, “i never got an icebreaker.”

rowan scoffed, fidgeting in the leather seat, “there’s not anything too riveting, i can spare you guys the details.”

in the corner of her eye, rowan felt his eyes pierce through her, digging deeps within the confines of her psyche. he was profiling her, desperate to get some sort of read. perhaps he was well aware of how uncomfortable she was by rossi’s query. the way her palms were slick against her pants, sweat prints clinging to the fabric. the way her cheeks were tainted pink, her jaw tightened, throat dry.

“didn’t you go to ohio state for undergrad?” reid licked his thumb, scouring through some novel or book.

“yeah,” she nodded, “i’m from a tiny town in ohio, called tiffin. i went to ohio state for an undergrad in psychology, along with a few minors in criminal justice, linguistics, spanish, so on. i stayed there for grad school since i loved the city, and the university. from there, the bureau picked me up from the academy, and i was thrown into the infamous case.”

“the child sex-trafficking bust,” hotch murmured, “i remember glancing over that in your file.”

“how long did that case go on?” rossi turned the radio dial, lowering the volume.

“a while,” rowan brought a hand to her temple, a dull pain seeping into her skull, “hey, does anyone have ibuprofen?”

hotch’s eyes softened, concern painting his features, “i think i have some in my briefcase. hang on.”

rowan brought a bottle of water to her lips, sipping as hotch placed a couple of pills in her open palm. as he set them in her hand, skin grazed skin, her heart skipping a beat.

for someone as rough and callused as hotch, his hands were so utterly soft.

“thank you,” she whispered, “i appreciate it.”

“of course,” he murmured, “do you usually get frequent headaches?”

“yeah,” rowan admitted, a new wave of blush spreading, “i’m just prone to them i guess.”

“the humidity is also high today,” reid remarked, “and from the way the wind just picked up, along with the darkness of the clouds, i think it’s going to storm. your headache could be from the low pressure.”

“fantastic,” rowan threw her head back, squeezing her eyes shut, “you know reid, that’s kinda a myth.”

“actually research has been inconclusive.”

“how many did you take?” hotch nudged rowan, inflections of concern within his inquisition.

“six.”

“jesus christ,” rossi’s lips pursed, “are you trying to kill your liver?”

“we’ll see about that,” a giggle bubbled up in rowan’s throat.

as the suburban sailed down the interstate, her lashes fluttered, sleep threatening to pull her into its clutches. she blinked, rubbing soothing circles onto her temple, lips falling to a frown as a dull pain seeped into her forehead.

biting her lip, she fought back tears, inhaling a shaky breath. this was no place to show any weakness.

not with him around.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“good afternoon, chief sellers. i’m supervisory special agent hotchner with the fbi,” hotch stated, his voice ringing with authority as he shook an officer’s hand, “and these are my colleagues.”

“thank god you’re here,” the officer’s voice was hoarse, wavering as he spoke, “it’s been a living nightmare these past few days.”

“i can only imagine,” jj murmured under her breath, “there’s someone out there killing little boys.”

“he looks so shaken up,” prentiss exhaled, folding her arms across her chest.

“we had most of the state p.d. flock out here once the second body was discovered,” chief sellers cleared his throat, his focus directed on hotch, “we’re all doing the best we can, but of course, as other duties call, we tend to be short-handed at times.”

“we’re going to do everything in our power to help,” rossi’s words were warm, brimmed with sincerity, “we’ll catch this guy, i promise.”

“and we’ll help you all in every way we can,” chief sellers nodded curtly, “anything you folks need, let us know.”

“should we start by heading out to the crime scene?” hotch inquired, “it might also be best to split some of us up.”

“of course,” chief sellers strode over to a pair of state officers, “these men will escort you to the scene. what else do you need?”

hotch’s eyes flickered over to his team, “i want morgan, reid, and rossi to go investigate the scene. prentiss and jj, would you speak with some of the locals? we need to gather as much information as possible in order to rule out anyone or gain essential details about our unsub.”

“what about me?” rowan coughed.

“you’re staying with me here at the station,” he commanded, “and you’re going to answer every phone call we get from garcia.”

“good luck,” rowan rolled her eyes as morgan teased her, his breath hot against her ear.

“you might want to listen to morgan,” rossi shot her a wink, “you’re going to need it.”

“thanks,” the reply was a deadpan, the agent’s shoulders slumping as hotch approached her, “putting me on a short leash, are we?”

“you’re the one who understands the profile of our unsub the best,” he retorted, “and before you fire back with another verbal assault, think before you speak. you’re a profiler now, after all.”

“don’t you think it’s interesting that the unsub stopped killing?” hotch murmured a few words of gratitude to an officer who handed him a coffee, cocking his head as he took a sip.

“do you think that there’s a reason behind that?”

“possibly,” rowan shrugged, denying the same styrofoam cup, “hey, where’s the closest gas station?”

“about half a mile away,” the officer replied coolly, “would you like a ride? a few of the guys and i are going to pick up pizzas for lunch.”

“i’m okay,” she paused, running a hand through her hair, “thank you, though.’

“you don’t like hot coffee?”

“i prefer iced,” the agent set her bag on a bare desk, “i assume they cleared some space for us?”

“indeed,” hotch huffed, “if your phone rings, assume it’s garcia.”

“i feel like i’m at columbus p.d. all over again,” the brunette slid into the seat, rolling a few inches as she plucked the file out of her briefcase.

“well this is nowhere near that,” hotch rolled his eyes, leaning against the wooden surface.

“well it sure feels like it,” his throat tightened as her eyes drifted upwards, locking with his, “it sure fucking feels like it. now, if you don’t mind, i’m going to look over the file.”

“would you like some company, agent rivers?”

“i’m sure you have ‘supervisory special agent’ matters to tend to,” the words were barbed, hot and venomous as she spat them out, “hovering around your new recruit like she’s some child is quite ridiculous don’t you think?”

“i should have you turn in your badge right now.”

“you haven’t figured me out yet,” rowan muttered, her head snapping up to meet hotch’s glare, a smug smirk enveloping her lips, “that’s why i get on your nerves. grind your gears, whatever the fuck you want to call it. the sheer fact that you have yet to profile me correctly is what sets you off. so, until that moment comes, i know you won’t terminate me. plus, you just went through all of that paperwork to get me here. do you really want to go through all of that again?”

“you piss me off.”

“good,” she puckered her lips, “you should engrave that on a plaque with my name on it.”

hotch’s jaw clenched, prepared to retaliate, yet the vibration in his pocket distracted him momentarily, the shrill ringtone piercing through the air, “yes?”

biting her tongue, rowan glanced back at the file, bringing her hand to her cheek. part of her was wailing, screaming and kicking, fighting the urge to study those horrid images. but the other part was driven, adrenaline coursing through her veins, pumping into her body.

even the slightest detail that she hadn’t noticed initially would be immensely helpful to building the profile, piecing together who this deranged individual was. flipping through the photos, rowan’s eyes narrowed.

although the team held a short briefing before departing from headquarters, there was one minor aspect about the way the bodies were laying in the shrubbery. the boys were all on their backs, dried blood coating sliced flesh. not a single article of clothing framed their bodies, just the thin layer of briefs or boxers.

her heart lurched as one arm was pressed tightly against their sides, while the other was raised. right hands pointed upwards, three fingers: the index, middle, and ring. yet, the pinky connected with the thumb, almost as if the children were purposely holding up three fingers.

“garcia called with an update,” his voice floated into her ears, “with the bits and pieces fed to her from jj and prentiss, we still have a lot of ground to cover. are you up for a drive?”

“wait,” rowan held up a hand, “hotch, were you ever a member of the boy scouts?”

his brow furrowed, confusion settling across his features, “what?”

“just look,” she huffed, gesturing to the images, “look at the way the unsub left their bodies. it’s a clear message, almost like how he dumped the bodies in clear sight. his arrogance blinded him, goading him to taunt us. but little did he know i would see right through his bluff.  i think he stopped the killing spree because he knew we’d be looking for him. it’s like he wants us to find him.”

leaning over, hotch’s chest hovered above her shoulder blade, a hand settling on the desk. the ghost of his badge hung over her cheek, a speck of white in her peripheral vision. a hum rose in his throat, “you’re onto something here. let me call garcia.”

“did i make a break case?”

“perhaps,” the supervisor brought his phone to his ear, “hey, garcia, i need you to run something for me. how many boy scout troops are in champaign county?”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“you up for some drinks tonight?” prentiss giggled, wrapping her jacket around her shoulders, “it’s all on me, especially since we should be celebrating your first case with the bau!”

“i’m fine,but thank you,” rowan beamed, “i still have a forty minute drive ahead of me. i shouldn’t stay out too late.”

“oh come on,” jj groaned, “we won’t be out for long. just a couple rounds.”

“pleaseeee?” garcia practically pranced over to rowan, jutting her bottom lip out, “we don’t know a single thing about you. hotch had you under his watch all day.”

“okay,” she exhaled, “a few drinks, and then i need to get to my apartment. i’ve barely finished unpacking so i’ll have to rummage for my towels and pajamas when i get back.”

“you have an apartment?” prentiss queried, “do you have a roommate or do you live alone? did you bring a boyfriend with you, by chance?”

rowan blinked, “uh, no. i live alone.”

“good thing you’re a fbi agent huh?” garcia winked, “c’mon, we know the perfect bar.”

“maybe we’ll get you loosened up and you can spill some secrets,” jj chuckled, the sound airy and light.

“sometimes,” rowan felt the corner of her lips tug into a wide grim, “sometimes i truly wonder what i’m getting myself into working with all these other profilers.”

within hours, rowan’s vision was hazy, shapes and objects a blur as she drove down the dimly lit street, the lamps bright and intense, piercing right through her skull. grimacing, she maintained her speed, with one destination buzzing in her mind.  

after the unsub’s address was located, the bau swooped in, arresting the leader of the boy scout troop, located in homer. his time with the boy scouts explained his familiarity with the forest, along with the victimology. hotch appeared less than pleased of rowan’s hesitations to work alongside the team, but he seemed satisfied that they didn’t have to stay the night.

on the flight back home, the team was a flurry of chatter, firing anything and everything at rowan. whether it was the name of her first pet, or her favorite coffee shop, even the name of her high school, the team was eager to know it all.

yet, rowan was careful, not delving too deep into the answers. besides, she didn’t want to get too comfortable. not with the fact that aaron hotchner was shooting her a glare every single time she piped up.  

who knew if she was going to be welcomed back the next morning.

putting the car in park, rowan slithered out of the seat, grumbling as she fought with the seat belt. perhaps she had downed a few too many shots, yet it was oh so relieving when the pain dissolved in her temple, practically disappearing. she was also desperate to keep up with jj and prentiss, who were far ahead of her in terms holding their liquor.

the lights of the bau were dim as she entered the empty space, her footsteps echoing off the walls. step by step, she made her way to her desk, slinging her briefcase over her shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks as she surveyed the room.

“did you forget something?”

“holy shit--” a hand gravitated towards her chest, clutching the fabric over her heart, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

“i was working,” he was calm and collected, “what are you doing here?”

an aura that he maintained with ease.

“getting my things,” the words were slurred, “who knows if i’m going to be back.”

“who said that?” his eyes narrowed, practically gleaming in the shadows.

“you did,” rowan snorted, exasperated.

“i never said a single thing about terminating you. i only mentioned it once when you were misbeh-- acting out of line,” he shot back, “by the way, i can practically smell the fireball from here.”

she was guarded, the same uniform donned on her frame from hours ago: tight, black dress pants that tapered at her ankles, a white button up, and a black blazer. the same worn doc martens on her feet. even though she was given some height in the boots, hotch towered over her by a few inches. the brunette hair that was brushed and smooth, falling to her shoulders, was frizzy and disheveled. in the low light, her eyes blazed with scorn, glittering a harsh flint grey. a stark contrast from the warm blue depths he first encountered.

“good for you.”

“did you drive here?” a hand glides through his hair, in an effort to hide the growing concern, “because if you did, i’m not letting you go home like this.”

rowan’s heart raced, thudding against her rib-cage as he took a step forward, the light illuminating his chiseled features, “i-i did drive here.”

“then it looks like i’m adding an extra forty minutes to my commute home.”

“why are you so fucking concerned about my safety and well-being?” rowan sprang forward, strands of hair plastered to dried tears, cheeks flushed, “one minute you’re actually a decent human being while the next you don’t want to even hear me speak. and i don’t understand why you hate me so much but i was leaving a place where i was brutally torn apart by two men and a woman. i couldn’t stand a single second there any longer. i came here for refuge, away from that damn city, and you act like i’m some speck of dirt on your shoe.”

“rowan,” her name was delicate, so soft and quiet as it tumbled from his lips, “what did they do to you? you don’t have to tell me.”

her lip quivered, tears pooling, threatening to spill over once more, “i got hurt really bad. um, they were officers at the columbus p.d. they.. uh, um, they weren’t very kind to me down there. we were about halfway through the investigation, as we had our pool of suspects. i was younger at the time, a lot more naive and dumb--”

“you are nothing of the sort,” hotch interjected, “you are not dumb nor naive.”

“but i let it happen,” the words were a broken wail, “i let them hurt me. all of that training, all of that learning, just disappeared that night.”

“rowan,” he was only about a few inches away from her now, his tie hanging loosely from his neck, suit jacket no where in sight, “it wasn’t your fault.”

“i was stabbed with a pen six times. and she clocked me in the temple with her baton. i don’t remember a single thing after that. the only thing i hear are my pleas for them to stop. they haunt my dreams at night, the memory happening over and over and over again.”

“rowan,” her name was so grounding as he repeated it, keeping her steady, “c-can i give you a hug?”

biting her lip, she nodded, hotch engulfing her in his embrace. his arms were strong, biceps rippling underneath the thin fabric of his button-up as he scooped her into his chest. a hand sprawled across her back, gliding up and down. his chin rested on the crown of her head, throat vibrating as he spoke.

“no one is going to hurt you ever again. not within the confines of these walls. not in the parking lot. not on a case. not ever. i promise you that.”

and in that moment, she nearly collapsed.

“god,” he exhaled, the breath faltering, “rowan, i am so sorry.”

“are you crying too?”

“a little bit,” his voice was so small, “i noticed your apprehension to talk about columbus, whether it was for college or your previous work. also, you recoiled when the officer handed you a coffee. i shouldn’t have misjudged you or your attitude.”

“aaron, my head hurts.”

“did you just call me aaron?” hotch swallowed thickly, nearly melting as she nuzzled her head into his chest, clinging onto his shirt.

god, was she so vulnerable in this state. far from the hot-headed, witty, personality that shone only hours before. part of aaron hotchner wondered if he preferred this. her softer, more gentle side, where she didn’t want to let go of him. where she didn’t spite him just to send fury spiking, pissing him off like no other.

they had only met under twenty-four hours ago, and she had upset him more times than his entire team did in years. typically, aaron hotchner was smooth, collected and poised. but right now, in this moment, he was in shambles, scrambling to process it all.

desperate to find why he gravitated towards rowan adaline rivers.

“i--” she pulled away, her cheeks stained crimson, “i am so sorry.”

“please,” hotch placed a hand on hers momentarily, aching to pull her in one more time, “please stop apologizing. you don’t have to be sorry for anything.”

her shoulders slumped, lips parting, “y-your hands, they’re nice. a lot softer than you.”

“rowan,” he coughed, “you’re inebriated and i have a wife and son at home. let me get you back to your apartment, and make sure that you’re safe, okay?”

“okay,” her lips stretched for a yawn, “i’m really tired and my head hurts so bad.”

“you’re going to have to wait this one out without any meds sadly,” hotch offered the brunette his elbow.

“come on, let’s get you home.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

tagged: @sapphicstars​​ @colorlessfl0wers​

[thesvenqueen]

Jurassic Park

Rating: T (may change, who knows) Words: 2297 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: Kristoff. Anna. Dinosaurs. And babies? Oh my... (a.k.a. an excuse for a fic about Kristoff being unsure about wanting kids hidden within a Jurassic Park AU because adventure, grumpy Kristoff and, you know, DINOSAURS!)

Note: shout out to @feistypaants for helping me get this thing started after the KA discord decided I should and will be writing this lol love you and all y’all <3 let us all pray I can keep up with this better than I did Mummy. Also, this is just going to be little snit bits of certain scenes from the film and not, you know, the ENTIRE movie cause that would be INSANE. 

{Chapter 1}

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Anna chuckled.

Kristoff looked back at her, pulling his sunglasses down to eye her, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Anna rolled her eyes, “If you really wanted to scare the kid, you could’ve just pulled a gun on him.”

Kristoff pushed his sunglasses back up, continuing the hike back up to the base. “Whatever.”

Truly, Kristoff didn’t mean to scare the kid. He had wanted to educate him on just how stupid the little shit had sounded. Had he gone a bit dramatic in his explanation? Maybe. Did he have to use the claw they’d found? No, it wasn’t completely necessary. 

Did he have to tell the kid that he would be alive when the raptors would start to eat him? He most definitely could’ve left that part out.

But he would be lying if the scared look on the kids face hadn’t been satisfying. What the kid gets for being disrespectful. 

“What is with you and kids, huh?” Anna asked as she caught up to him and looped her arm through his. 

“They’re just... they’re noisy, they’re messy...they’re expensive.” Kristoff said, “They smell.”

“Kristoff, they don’t smell.”

“They do too.”

“Do not.”

“Name me one kid that didn’t smell.”

Kristoff looked down just in time to catch her rolling her eyes, “Same could be said about you, ya know? You don’t smell great either.”

“I smell fantastic & pine fresh, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, keep lying to yourself.”

Kristoff chuckled, reaching his other arm across to grab her hand and squeeze, “You...you really want to have one of those?”

He didn’t have to ask to know the answer. Kristoff knew full well that Anna wanted kids, and had known since they started dating. They hadn’t talked much about it really, only little side comments here and there, but the idea was still there.

“I don’t want that kid,” Anna said, “But I wouldn’t mind some little Kristoff’s running around here making a ruckus.”

Kristoff smirked, “You don’t think one of me is enough?”

“Oh one of you is plenty, you’re enough of a pain in the ass as it is.” Anna giggled as he bumped her hip, “But...having a baby, your baby, I just…”

Kristoff looked back down at her as she bit her lip. “I know.”

“Have you never thought about it?”

Kristoff sighed, he didn’t expect to be having this conversation here of all places. “To be honest, no. I never really, I don’t know, thought I’d make it that far with someone…” He said, as he idly ran his finger across her wedding band, “I never saw it as a possibility so I just...never gave it much thought.”

Which was true. Before Anna, relationships were not his forte to say the least. It wasn’t until Anna tumbled into his life that he even began to understand what a relationship truly was, what it could possibly hold. Looking back at it now, he’d never in his life would’ve thought that he’d be married to such an amazing, kind, bubbly woman such as Anna. Let alone potentially having kids. 

“And now?” Anna said, pulling them to a halt, intertwining their hands together “Do you...do you see that with me Kristoff?”

He looked down at her, taking his sunglasses off so he could really see her. 

Yes. God yes, he could easily imagine her holding their little boy or girl. Could see her running about chasing after their baby as it toddled around. Could see her smiling her biggest smile as she cradled their little one close to her chest. 

He could see her there, but him? That he wasn’t sure. As with dating, he’d always seen himself too much of a grump and too just...him to even get anywhere with anyone. 

But Anna had changed that, had seen the good, soft guy that he was behind the gruff. Had brought it out of him and made him into a better person; made him into a believer of love. 

There was that underlying fear though that also came with the idea. Would he really, truly be a great dad? He knew little of his real father, but what he did know was not the type of father he wanted to be. He wanted to be like Cliff, his adoptive dad but even then the standards were far too high. He could never be like him.

But what if he could? 

Before Anna he’d never thought he’d make it here, and yet here he stood. A married man to the most beautiful woman that loved him with all she had. 

So maybe, just maybe, he could get there too. With some help but, it could be possible.

Before he could answer, he eyed over her head at the sound of an engine overhead

“What the hell?”

It was a helicopter, one flying right to their dig site. Which equaled absolute disaster for their project, one they had only just begun.

They both took off down the hill back to the site, Kristoff being aware of the helicopter coming closer. As it descended, dust and debris started to fly everywhere around the site. Tarps flapped in the air, students scrambled to take cover. 

“Cover the sites!” Anna yelled, running towards a group of students struggling with a nearby tarp. 

“Quickly guys!” Kristoff called, grabbing hold of a nearby tarp and passing it along to a student. “Cover them up, we don’t want them getting damaged!” 

Any other time, this wouldn’t be a problem. But here, on a site filled with delicate fossils that could break with ease, this was the worst thing they could ask for. The added factor that they had just unearthed another fossilized skeleton made the stakes that much higher.

Passing off the last tarp, looking around to make sure the sites were covered, Kristoff turned to see that the helicopter had landed. He barreled towards it, fists clenched as he approached, 

“Shut that shit off!” He yelled, motioning to the pilot. The pilot looked at him, completely confused and just pointed away from the vehicle as Kristoff came right up to the glass. “I don’t care, shut that shit off now!” He yelled again, and again the pilot pointed, saying something that Kristoff couldn't hear. 

He turned to see where the pilot had been pointing, just in time to see the door to his trailer close.

The hell?

He growled as he stormed off to the trailer, ignoring the confused stares from his students. Whoever this idiot was had some nerve to show up to a dig site, in a helicopter no less, risking disturbing the sites and damaging the fossils and barging into his and Anna’s trailer.

Kristoff yanked open the door, not caring that it slammed into the wall as he did so. He stepped inside, anger only building as he looked for the person who nearly ruined their entire exploration and spying them in their fridge.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing in here?!” 

The man turned, a look of surprise and somewhat glee written on his face. The man was much older, a full white beard covered his chin and glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He wore a white brimmed hat, to match his all white attire, right down to his white shoes. But the only thing Kristoff saw was red as the man smiled and popped the bottle of champagne.  

“Hey! We were saving that!” Kristoff said as he came up to the stranger, ready to snatch the bottle from his hand.

“Oh, for today I hope.” The man said with a toothy grin. 

“No! It was for--who the fuck do you think you are?” Kristoff growled, jabbing his finger into the man’s chest.

“Oh, how rude of me. Dr. Hammond. John Hammond.” He said, extending his hand and shaking Kristoff’s index finger. “And it’s a delight to finally meet you in person Dr. Bjorgman.”

Kristoff froze, realization hitting him.

Hammond.

The John Hammond.

The man who owned InGen? The one that did research on distinct animals, specifically genetic research?

But most importantly, who ran and created the Hammond foundation? The one that was well known to fund dig sites, such as the one they were on now. 

No, it couldn’t be.

“I see my, uh,” the man said as he walked towards their table near the back of the trailer, “$50,000 a year has been well spent!” 

Holy shit. 

It was him.

And Kristoff has just cussed him up and down.

Fuck.

The door to the trailer slammed open again, Kristoff knew immediately who it was, “Ok,” Anna fumed, storming inside, “Who’s the asshole that--”

“Uh, Dr., let me introduce you to my wife & our paleobotanist,” Kristoff interrupted, turning to Anna as Dr. Hammond came over. Anna looked at him confused, clearly still fuming over the events of the day. Even so, she looked to Dr. Hammond and shook his hand

“Uh, Anna.” She said, eyeing Dr. Hammond, “Dr. Bjorgman to be exact.”

“Anna,” Kristoff said, wrapping his arm around her waist & squeezing, “This is Dr. Hammond.” 

Anna’s eyes widened, looking from Dr. Hammond back to Kristoff and back again as he began to speak.

“Sorry, uh, for the dramatic entrance. I did not mean to disturb your work but, this was the only efficient way I could get to you both as quickly as possible.” 

Anna stood speechless, the first time Kristoff had ever seen her as such. He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at her stunned face.

“Now come along,” Dr. Hammond said as he walked back towards their table, snagging three cups along the way, “let’s sit down and have a drink yes? We have much to discuss, much to discuss.” 

Anna looked up at Kristoff, still completely shocked. The question written on her face:

What the hell?

Kristoff shrugged, looking back over at the Dr.

“Come along now, I insist.” Dr. Hammond called again, pouring champagne into the glasses.

Anna hesitantly made her way to the table, and Kristoff followed suit.

“Now, I’ll get right to the point….”

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

“So, what do you think? Do we have a deal?”

Kristoff sipped his glass, letting himself think about what he just heard. To be honest, he was confused. Everything the man had just said had made absolutely little sense to him. Judging by Anna’s tilted head, she thought the same.

“So, let me get this straight.” He said, feeling Anna’s hand rest on his thigh, a sign to be gentle, “You want us to come review your park? 

“That’s right!”

Kristoff furrowed his brow, “Why would you ask us to come review your park? We’re archeologists, not park owners.”

“Oh, but it is right up your ally, I assure you!” Dr. Hammond said, beaming, “Tell you what, why don’t you both come for the weekend? I have a jet standing by that could get you there in a jiffy.”

Kristoff turned to look at Anna. She was looking at her cup, biting her lip as she thought. After a moment, she looked up, “I..I’m sorry Dr. but I’m not sure if we can. We just dug up a new skeleton today and it’s something we’ve been looking forward to for such a long--”

“I can compensate you fully by funding your dig.”

Kristoff tensed then, leaning slowly onto the table and looking at Dr. Hammond. He couldn’t be serious. 

“You’d fund our dig?”

“Of course!” He said, smiling, “I’ve funded many of your digs, as I am sure you are well aware and I’ve loved and admired your work for a long time. The Bjorgmans, the best of the best in the archeology world. Your work is extraordinary!”

That gave Kristoff pause. The man knew exactly who they were, knew how good they were in their craft too; admired it in fact. That was not something you hear everyday. Especially from the man that had funded hundreds of digs over the years alone.

Truly, if not for this man, Kristoff was sure that he and Anna would easily be out of the job. 

What the man was proposing sounded crazy, but then again, they did owe this man more than they could ever offer.

“As much as I--we want to Dr. Hammond, sir,” Anna said, interrupting Kristoff’s thoughts, “The just..the timing of it is just not right and with the site just being discovered--”

“For a further 3 years.”

Kristoff’s jaw dropped.

“3 years?” Anna asked, herself stunned.

“That’s right.” Dr. Hammond said, smiling at the pair.

“You’d...you’d fund the dig for another 3 years?” Anna asked.

“Yes.” 

“Holy shit.” Anna murmured, looking up to Kristoff and he looked down at her knowing she was having the same thoughts.

3 more years of funding meant 3 more years spent at the site. One that they had just barely broken ground on. The area was thought to be home to at least a dozen or more possible fossils; some complete, others not. But that was just all theory. The chances of their being even more here was high with what they had discovered just today. 

The problem was, from the beginning the funds were only enough to cover a few months here. Not near long enough for the full expedition they had wanted to do.

The possibilities of what they could discover, what they could uncover in another 3 years…

Hell, a quick weekend would be worth it in Kristoff’s eyes.

It was then that he found Anna’s hand that still rested on his thigh, squeezing it gently and smiled.

Anna smiled back at him, and Kristoff could see the excitement in her eyes. She then looked to Dr. Hammond. “Where’s the plane?”

[rinnysega]

Happy Birthday TJ!

It’s officially the 25th, so here’s a Simpsons birthday fic for @pascalls featuring Rev. Lovejoy and his OC Charlie Hope you like it, and happy birthday!

The rain was coming down in sheets against the windshield, and how the reverend could drive in this, Charlie would never know. He could barely see anything but a wavering glimpse of a dark horizon just beyond the water as it danced on the glass. It was mesmerizing the way it changed in so many beautiful colors after catching the headlights or the neon glow of the dash.

Silence filled the car - quite the difference from just the previous hour.

Their words from before echoed in his head.

“I ask you to bring one thing, just one thing, Charlie, and you can’t even do that.” Reverend Lovejoy’s voice was a booming authority in his station wagon - even above the rain from God. “It’s your mask for Christ’s sake. What made you think you could leave it behind?”

“I told you, I was busy.” He snapped back. This argument had been on and off for hours now, as if fighting over it was going to suddenly change things and manifest his doctor’s mask into his lap. “Your neighbor was having a cookout when we packed. You really think I wasn’t about to take some of those ribs out of the cooler? Dude wasn’t even using them. Yet.”

“Well great. Can’t wait to go through a checkpoint and explain to an officer of the law that I have an abomination of God in my car because you were too busy being a fat ass to bring your stupid plaque mask.”

“You’re mad cause you’re jealous.” Charlie smirked.

“Of what?”

“My ass.”

“No, I’m mad because you’re not thinking straight, and you’re letting your cockiness override your priorities.”

“I heard you the first time, Timmy. You’re mad my ass is cute.” Charlie leaned back and popped one of the last candies in his bag into his mouth. “By the way, we’re out of road snacks.”

“You’re not even listening to me!” His rage was insistent and direct, despite the fact he had to keep his eyes on the road in those poor weather conditions. “I’m trying to explain to you that from what I’ve seen lately, you’ve been wallowing in your sloth and ignorance to the point you’re making shit decisions, and it’s going to come back and bite you in the ass.”

“The fuck you mean ‘Lately’?”

“Again, you’re not listening to a thing I’m-”

“-No, I know what you’re saying.” Charlie crumbled up the plastic bag and tossed it to the floorboard. “Full offense, Your Holiness, but I told you the first time, I thought I had it in the trunk. Okay? I thought. I thought it was there, so I didn’t check and got myself a snack before hitting the road instead. It’s a simple mistake anyone can make. You want me to say sorry and for what? Just to stroke your ego that you were right?”

“There’s a difference between a simple mistake and not taking priority in something as important as your facial wear, Charlie.”

“What, you mean like your shit choice in marrying Helen?” A grin appeared on his face, hoping to see his nerves on their last straw.

Lovejoy rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers, continuing to concentrate on the road. “You know, one of these days-”

“-Oh here we go, the ‘one of these days’ speeches. Can you just drop it and turn up the radio?”

The preacher slapped his hand away from turning the dial.

“No. Would you rather I talk down to you like a parishioner instead? Is that it? You need to be talked down to like a child?”

“No, I want-”

“-Want me to preach to you?”

“No! But oh, excuse me, I’m sorry, Reverend. I didn’t realize you wanted someone like Ned Flanders on this trip with you.”

“Charlie-”

He threw his hands up in wild antics as he shouted. “HIGH DIDDLY-HO REVEREND! SURE IS A BIT OF A WET ONE OUTSIDE ISN’T IT? TOO DAGGUM-DIDDLY BAD THAT GOD’S GOTTA BE CRYING THEM EYES OUT OVER ALL THE GOSH-IDDLY-DARN SINNERS OF THE WORLD!-”

“-Charlie-”!

“-Oh I’m sorry, not FLANDERS enough for you? Want me to grow out my mustache a little, get on my knees and suck your di-”

His sentence was cut short when Lovejoy slammed a foot on the brake which pushed Charlie forward, lifting him from his seat. His seatbelt held him tight, holding steadfast and trying to pull him back as if it were a fisherman trying to reel in his catch from a raging sea.

Lovejoy’s hand found its way to Charlie’s chest to hold him there, both of them suspended in time - an honest but futile parental habit to protect a loved one from the windshield in such circumstances on the road.

But when the car skidded to a stop, both men slammed back against their car seats and the world, which became still again, spun in their vision while Charlie’s brain felt swished around like Jell-O.

“Wha..fuck.” Charlie took hold of his head in an effort to stop the spinning. “What did you do that for-”

“Jesus.”

Charlie adjusted his glasses that sat crooked on his nose. As soon as he had, he noticed the reverend had unbuckled his seatbelt and tossed it aside as he did his door. He watched as he stepped out in the pouring rain - his eyes fixated on something on the road.

Charlie’s eyes followed to a mass heap in front of the car, and he tried to wipe away the fog on the windshield to get a better look at what the reverend had seen.

In the headlights, Lovejoy’s body raced across the road and cast shadows over an overturned car that was forgotten by the shoulder. Charlie’s ears perked up and he leaned forward onto the dashboard to get a better look at the events unfolded.

A hand was stretched out from the driver’s side window - pale compared to the darkness around it. Lovejoy was beside the arm, bent down with a hand over his face to either see or speak to whoever had been driving the vehicle.

Charlie was about to make his exit and see the commotion for himself, but more headlights appeared as a scene was beginning to unfold. Without his mask, he crouched down low...hoping not to be seen as he watched.

Several people poured into the rain with anything they had at their disposal to help whoever was in the car. The driver’s side was completely crushed while they did everything they could to pry open the passenger side - all while the rain continued to beat down heavily upon them.

But while all this happened, Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off the reverend who now held that weak, outstretched hand in both of his. His head was lowered as if speaking to whoever was inside. It was hard to see, but his lips were moving, eyes closed. He was praying. The headlight glared off the cross around his neck. He must have pulled out when Charlie wasn’t looking.

When the red lights of a fire engine came into his view, Charlie’s attention was taken elsewhere, and he quickly slid into the backseat and threw an old tarp over his body.

It will be over soon, he told himself. It had to be.

-

Reverend Lovejoy was still wet even half an hour later after they left the scene. By the time he got back into the car and started down the road in silence, Charlie hesitated for several minutes before crawling his way back up into the passenger seat.

That’s where he sat now. In silence for most of their continuation into their trip.

The rain still poured.

“...Are they okay?” Charlie finally asked.

The other didn’t speak. He only slouched over onto the door with his chin in his hand, his other on the wheel.

Charlie felt his heart beating as he sat forward again, staring out of the glass. It wasn’t beating fast, his heart. It wasn’t beating slow either. It was only beating. Beating as it normally did, but louder. As if it were reminding him in a cruel way that he was alive.

And that was a terrifying thought.

A sign passed them by and flashed in the headlights.

“Pull over up here,” he said. “At the rest stop.”

Lovejoy did so, but whether or not he did it on his own or because Charlie asked it of him, he didn’t know. All he cared for was getting out of that car by the time Lovejoy pulled up into the first spot by the restrooms and vending machines. He hadn’t even put it in Park before Charlie was out the door and vomiting in the closest trash can he could get to. Unfortunately for whoever had to clean this place in the morning, it was an enclosed can and undigested meat and sour candies went spilling out into the can’s ashtray. It mixed with the rain water and old Laramie butts which only made his condition worse and he heaved out another round.

Inside the car, Lovejoy was focusing on his own breathing, just thankful to God he didn’t have to hear the sounds of Charlie’s actions over the thundering rain. His head leaned back against the headrest, and he combed his fingers through his loose strands of hair - his gel completely washed out. His ears were ringing.

A few moments later, the passenger door opened again, and Charlie held his tail as he plopped down into the seat, his arm cradling several bags of chips and cookies from the vending machine.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” He asked Charlie.

“No. But it’s my idea.” He pulled his seat lever to let the back fold down, and he lay back, taking one of the bags between his claws to open. His eyes were closed as he chewed the first few chips, trying to get the vile taste out of his mouth with salt and preservatives. It barely worked. “Fucking knock off brands…”

Lovejoy looked at the clock. It was almost midnight.

Charlie’s ears perked when he heard the click of a lever, and he glanced over to see Lovejoy joining him by reclining his seat to lay back too. His left arm was folded over his eyes to block out the orange glow of the lamps of the rest area.

His other hand was held out to Charlie.

Charlie looked at it. That hand - those nimble fingers he often kissed to tease him - that same hand held a dying human in comfort tonight. The last hand that poor human would ever hold. It was his.

His ears wilted...but only because he knew he wasn’t been watched.

He wanted to touch it, and...maybe his abomination of a hand could bring some comfort to him - if he needed such a thing. His fingers were so close to him, and he almost gently placed a hand in his when Lovejoy’s deadpan voice filled the space between them.

“Chip, Charlie.”

He didn’t say anything, but placed the largest one he could find in his palm.

Anything for him.

[leagueofidiots]

I'm great at keeping us occupied at least

Heya, so I had a rough Thanksgiving and started that draft I've talked about...after certain things happening I no longer really want to work on it anymore, but enjoy what used to be a good concept! Still can't do the "keep reading" thing, sorry

No trigger warnings, just know this is after my NaNoWriMo, but you can read it without context just fine. Some Shigadabi and Magnetmagic, but nothing huge

"Everybody pack up your crap, we need to drive up to Sapporo," says Shigaraki, laying Father over his face.

"Why can't Kurogiri just take us? And why do we have to go anyway?" Toga groans.

"He's not feeling well, so I don't want to overwork his quirk. We're going because I said so."

Twice lowers the bottom half of his mask to cover his mouth. "Whatever you say, boss!" He begins shoving various things into a knapsack. "I just wanna lay around and do nothing!"

Dabi slowly gets off of his bar stool. "Oi, creep, you know I get car sick, right?"

"What?" He continues placing hands over his upper body. "Since when?"

"Since I made a slightly large turn. Personally, I think he just likes whining," says Spinner, nose pointed up to the air.

"Well we just won't make any 'slightly large turns' then." Kurogiri gives him a sideways glance, but Tomura promptly ignores him. "Toga, I'm serious. Get up. You're not getting out of this."

Magne pulls up the younger girl by the arm. "Who's driving? I'll have to take a pass, I don't have a license."

"You're in your thirties, how do you not have a licence?" asks Twice, standing at the door like an eager boy scout.

"My parents took mine when I got my pronouns and name changed, and then I committed two murders. That sort of eliminated the option." 

"Oh." He shrinks sheepishly. "Well, I'd say they had it coming then. Murder is not a good way to solve your problems, Kenji!"

She shrugs. "I have Pringles, you think I should bring them?"

Compress grins, debating between his masks. "Oh, absolutely. I would still like to know our business in Sapporo though, Shigaraki. It could affect what I wear."

"Well, I'm hoping to avoid the public once we're up there, so bring one of the ones you can stuff in your bag."

Dabi looks at his boss in disgust. "Really? We're stuffing things in bags, and you're bringing all fourteen of your corpse hands?"

"You say that like you're not a walking chunk of rotting barbeque as is, player two."

The black-haired villain shrugs. "Fair enough. Just don't make me carry the bag or anything."

"So can I drive?" asks Suichi eagerly, trying to get back on topic. "I really love feeling the power of a car under my hands."

"If you've already made Dabs blow chunks, I don't think that's a great idea," says Toga, digging knives out from under the couch cushions.

Spinner pouts. "Fine."

Kurogiri finishes a drink he'd made for himself, and looks around at his murder babies. "Is everyone all packed? I am sorry I couldn't make us a warp gate."

"It's no prob, Kuro, we all feel under the weather sometimes," says Jin, back to looking like he's waiting for Disneyland and not a sixteen hour drive from Yokohama to Sapporo. "I blame you for my suffering."

"We're all packed," says Atsuhiro loudly, finally placing a mask over his face. "Which car are we taking?"

Over the past several weeks, the league had stolen a lot of cars. Toga said a crime that took such thought and planning was basically pointless, but Jin liked hotwiring cars, so what else was there to do? So the league now had five vehicles, including a baby blue minivan, a pink bug, an orange pickup truck, another minivan (this one white, it was Tomura's favorite), and a bright green sports car. Compress had them stored as marbles in one of his coat pockets.

"The minivan," says Shigaraki, grin creeping past Father's fingers. "You know which one. And I'm driving."

"Shotgun," calls Dabi, sulking over to the door. "One more window to look out of as I try to keep my insides where they belong." Tomura rolls his eyes.

"So, are we gonna play any road trip games?" asks Toga, considerably more excited than when Magne had to drag her out of her chair.

"I dunno, what did you have in mind?" The tone in their boss' voice suggests he's going to turn down whatever she says, but Himiko never has been good with his social cues.

"Truth or dare! Twenty questions! Spin the bottle! Two truths and a lie! Would you rather! Kiss, marry, kill! Concen---"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" he snaps. "Whatever, just pick one. Maybe it'll stop Dabi from puking his guts out in my stolen car."

As Compress expands the white van in the alleyway next to the League's hideout, Toga cheers. "Jin, what do you want?"

"I don't care. Two truths and a lie!" He quickly clambers into the car, seizing the back left window seat.

"Sounds great!" She shuffles in next to him. "Kuro, you start!"

He lets out a short sigh. "Yes, alright, fine. I suppose I can come up with something."

Dabi hesitantly gets into the front seat, setting his own empty knapsack by his feet. "This better not get weird, or I'll just hop out of the window."

Shigaraki gives his boyfriend a pointed glare as he takes the wheel in his half-gloved hands. "I told you, you're not allowed to make jokes like that anymore. You worry me."

"Sorry," he says dryly, not sounding very sorry at all. "I'll just eat all my Altoids at once then."

The rest of the team piles in, Suichi next to Toga; Compress, Magne, and Kurogiri in the middle row. "Why wear our villain costumes if we're being discreet when we arrive?" asks Spinner, struggling with his scarf.

"To scare civilians when we stop for food. I hate lines," says Tomura, starting the car.

"Are you sure you know how to drive?" asks Jin, hand raised. "I have complete faith in ya, boss man!"

"Yes, I know how to drive, I've been playing racing games since I was younger than Toga!" he snaps.

"Okay, okay, go," says Himiko, smacking her hand on Kurogiri's shoulder.

The purple void thinks as Shigaraki pulls into the street, already scratching at his neck. "Hm...Alright, I'm ready. Number one: I am twenty-eight years old. Number two: my real name is Morimi Yoshiano. Number three: I have a scar on my eyebrow that makes it look like I shaved a slit in it to be edgy."

Magne laughs. "That third one has to be the lie."

He shakes his head, sending swirls of mist into the backseat. "Entirely true."

"Number one is," rasps Tomura. "If that were true, I would have met you when you were thirteen or so. Possible, but unlikely."

"Well, I suppose it's fitting you guessed it. Is it your turn then?"

"'Morimi Yoshiano'. That sounds off for some reason. I think I'll stick with 'Black Fog'," says Compress.

There's a murmur of agreement across the car. "Okay, I think I'm ready. My hair used to be black, I hate Sonic the hedgehog, or I've never been in a movie theatre."

Dabi turns to him with a "ha". "I know for a fact your hair was black as a kid. And everybody hates Sonic, so---"

"Excuse me, what?" Tomura almost swerves into the next lane as he turns to his now-green-tinged boyfriend. "Everybody hates Sonic?!?"

"Face the street, creep, and stop treating this like bumper cars," he says in a wavering voice.

Shigaraki faces forward. "Sonic was and is an iconic video game, vital to the development of---"

"Was it the lie or not?" whines Toga.

He huffs. "Yes, it was the lie. Your turn."

"One: I used to think Tomura was cute. Two: I've eaten dog before. Three: One time I stabbed Dabi's arm while he was asleep, and he didn't even notice."

Kurogiri looks back, slightly disturbed. "I'm not sure which answer I want to be correct."

"I don't think you'd eat a dog," says Jin, though he sounds unsure.

"That's what she wants you to---" A weird noise from Dabi cuts Spinner off. "Gross, man."

Dabi tosses a mint at his teammate's head after popping one in his mouth. "Shut up. I can't help it."

"This is getting boring, you guys are being too easy," says Toga. "The lie was the dog one."

"So what now?" ask Twice. "I am perfectly content!"

"I dunno, why don't we play spin the bottle like you suggested earlier? It's certainly high risk," says Magne.

"High risk? What do you mean?"

She grins, adjusting herself in her seat. "Well, we have a gremlin with crusty lips, a queasy piece of bacon, me, Sako, a void, a sociopath, Deadpool, and a lizard. There's not really any solid wins besides my boyfriend, and that's brought down by the fact that his not-singleness makes it awkward."

Suichi grins. "Like a game of chicken. I'm in."

"I wouldn't call myself a void, but alright, I guess."

"Isn't Himiko a minor?" asks Shigaraki, itching his neck.

"You're concerned about that but not---" Dabi hiccups, "---not driving with a hand over your face?"

Tomura huffs and takes the hand off, tossing it onto Dabi's lap. "Happy? Now I may be a criminal, but I have, like, morals."

"Oh, come on, Shiggy. I'm consenting. And it's just a little kiss," she whines. "I don't have any people my age to be my age around, you know? I want my teenage years to be as teenager-y as possible."

He stops joltily at a red light. "Alright, but if this is what we get arrested for, I blame you."

She grins. "Okay, just let me pull up the app!" Jin huddles over next to her for a minute as they type in names and adjust settings. "Ready! Who's spinning first?"

"What's the punishment if you pass?" asks Compress, taking off his mask and fanning himself with it.

"Hmmmmmmm." She taps her chin. "A good question."

"Whoever chickens out has to buy the person they didn't kiss something from wherever we stop," suggests Magne. 

Everyone groans. Everyone is broke. Even the author, writing this at 1 am after a mental breakdown is broke. The fourth wall is broke.

Anyway.

Toga presses the button on her screen, and the automated sound of a spinning game wheel sounds throughout the car alongside Dabi's groans of discomfort. "And I will be kissing...Suichi!"

The scaly villain groans. "Why me?" Still, he faces his left and takes the quick peck. "Okay, my turn." His clawed finger presses the button, and once again suspense fills the air. "Compress, that's you."

"Must I?" he asks dryly, turning around. The ordeal is over as quickly as the first round, and Compress removes his glove. "This is setting up to be a long road trip." The clicking begins once again, and finally lands on Kurogiri's name.

"Whoaaaa," crows Jin. "Are you gonna have to deactivate your quirk? We don't want his face going through. That would be hilarious!"

Kurogiri tenses. "Um. Well, there is always the option of buying you something."

"We're all broke and you know that. Come on, it isn't that bad." The magician pulls his glove on, leaning over his girlfriend.

"Yeah, besides, we wanna see your face! It's like a fun little mystery!" says Toga, leaning forward on her elbows.

Tomura glances back. "You don't have to if you don't want to, Kuro."

"No, no, they have a right to know what I look like. It's waited long enough," he says with a sigh.

Dabi, bag held lazily in one hand, turns around slowly, trying to act apathetic. Kurogiri rolls down his window, letting a gust of air in, and the fog around his slowly dissipates. 

"Whoa, you're kinda hot, in a weird, battle-worn kind of way," says Jin. "That's a lot of damage! And we're gonna repair it using flex tape!" He puts a banana sticker on the man's forehead.

Kurogiri peels the sticker off slowly, taking a few purple hairs out in the process. His face is scattered with patches of light skin, making his dark eyes stand out against his features. "What is flex tape?"

And this is where I stopped oof

[jax-writes]

P.S., I Love You

When you lose someone you love, you lose a part of yourself. But maybe with a little help you can find your way back.

Hey wow, look guys, I’m back! I was struck with inspiration the other day while I was at work, so obviously I had to do something about it. Be easy on me, I haven’t written in a while and I’m a wee bit out of practice, but I hope you all enjoy this nonetheless. 

WARNINGS: As it is based off the movie, there is a major character death. This is based off the cinematic universe, though there will be comic references as well. Strap in, and enjoy, kiddos!

Prologue

“Doll, just talk to me, please!” followed the angry stomping from the woman leading the way down the hall. “Sweetheart, you gotta let me in on it,” he said as he bolted around in front of her, causing her to stop in her tracks, squinting up at him, lips pursed. “You’re waiting until we’re alone in our room to yell at me, aren’t you?” he said, glancing back at the figure of his best friend following in the distance to enter his own room. Y/N nodded once before moving around him once more.

He watched as she pressed her palm to the scanner next to the door, allowing her access to their quarters and trailed behind her, removing his gloves before sitting down to take his boots off. Bright blue eyes glanced up from the laces as he watched his wife pacing the room and angrily removing her stealth uniform. A belt landed on the floor, one fingerless glove was tossed on the coffee table, the other landed by his foot; a boot was removed and thrown by the door, the other landed near the bathroom.

“What was the fucking point of me even suiting up, then, if you weren’t planning on letting me DO anything?” she finally bit out.

Steve sighed and straightened in his chair. “Doll we just needed eyes up high, and Clint is still on his own mission.”

“And Bucky is a sniper!” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air, the top half of her uniform now rolled around her waist. “I’m a fucking fighter, Steven, if you don’t want me fighting the bad guys, you need to rewire your brain. I was simply doing what I could.”

“You were walking into a trap!” he finally yelled. “Excuse me for not wanting my WIFE dead!”

“THEY WERE HOSTAGES, DUMBASS!” a pillow flew across the room and hit his chest. He didn’t even acknowledge it as it landed on the floor.

“So radio in to us next time before trotting into gunfire by yourself!”

“Yeah, does that sound like anyone else you know?” she crossed her arms and cocked a hip. “Pot, meet kettle.”

“That’s different,” he sighed.

“Yeah? Why? Because I’m not a super soldier? Newsflash, Stevie, neither is half our team.”

“And that half of our team also has superpowers or powered armor.”

She opened her mouth and then shut it tight, unable to argue with that, until, “Wait, Clint doesn’t have either of those!”

Steve huffed, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’m not married to Clint, so I’m not having this argument with him. But for the record, I’d be angry with him for doing it as well.”

“But you wouldn’t have kept him from the fight in the first place,” she said, pointing a finger at him.

“No, he would have been our eyes up top in your place,” Steve nodded. “Just like you were for us.”

“And he would have done the same as me, seeing those hostages,” she countered.

“Doubtful, Doll. Unless he saw one get hurt or worse,” he shrugged. “Listen, can we agree we both reacted wrong here? And make up? I hate fighting you. Especially right after a mission.”

The woman scrunched her nose before turning to finish taking off the uniform. “Fine. Now help me wash my hair and I might just forgive you.”

He rolled his eyes but obeyed his wife, willing to follow her anywhere.

“Y/N! Get down!” Rang through the air with sounds of gunshots and explosions. Bullets sprayed past her as she dove behind an overturned jeep.

“Clint, do you have eyes on the case? I lost it in the fire,” she huffed, reloading her pistol. 

“Thirty feet behind you, but they’re moving in fast. The one time we could use pretty boy with us,” the archer grumbled in her ear.

She nodded once as she turned, peaking around the side of the vehicle, and began shooting as many enemies as she could. She smirked when she saw the shield fly through the air and take out of the the enemy agents. “Thanks, there, Cap.”

“Always here for you, Doll,” he gave a quick salute before punching the next man, knocking him out. She saw her path, and took off at high speeds to grab the case. Once she got it, she turned to sprint toward the meetup point, shooting whoever tried to stop her. 

“Shit,” she muttered, now out of ammo, as another agent came at her, knife in hand. Luckily, her husband was right behind her, shield flying to take him out. 

“Always, Doll,” he grinned, finger on earpiece. “We’re clear, everyone, let’s haul ass and get out of here.” He took a step toward her, and the smile dropped from her face as everything began moving in slow motion. Blood spread across his chest. He looked down before his eye met hers once more. Someone wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her away as she screamed and fought to get back to her husband. This wasn’t happening. It was a bad dream that she would be waking up from any second now. 

“STEVE!” she sobbed, eyes on the body Bucky now had slung over his shoulder. 

“Come on, Y/N. We gotta move,” a voice muttered into her ear. She allowed herself to be guided back to the jet, only to fall to the ground next to his body, gripping his hand. Willing him back to life as the tears fell down her face, she didn’t see the tears of her teammates around her. 

[queenlifesupport]

Aching Part 2 (Rog! x Y/N

Thank you guys so much for enjoying the last part! This might suck and I’m really sorry, I’ve been sick! If you missed part one, you should check it out. SORRY FOR ANY TYPOS!!!

WORDS : 3,788

WARNINGS : Language, alcohol use, angst, & depression

Clutter of metal against the ceramic material filled the bright and happy atmosphere throughout the restaurant. It was quite busy for a Wednesday morning, but most of the people here seemed to be elders enjoying their retirement. It was a little scary, the thought of getting old and some day not being as youthful and energetic as I am now. But now is not the time to dwell, it's the time to live. 

"You know, I don't think I've ever asked you what you do for living." I commented, pointing my fork at him before taking another bite of my order. I knew he made money, how else could he afford his nice home with a car, along with all this extra stuff such as breakfast. He hasn't left the house without me for a week, he must do something or get his money from someone.

"I actually own a lumber company, it was my fathers before mine. We have one here in London, then 2 in America. Luckily I'm able to hire people to take care of business for me so I can enjoy my life at home, doing absolutely nothing." He laughed slightly. It made sense, he was able to make money without doing much of the heavy work. He knew I didn't work and only had money from Rogers bank account, all of my cards were hooked to his bank and he hadn't removed any of them yet so I continued to use them for my necessities. 

"I've been wanting to get a job but I'm just not sure where to look. Or even what I want to do." I looked down at the almost empty plate that sat in front of me. He hummed in response, then used the white-unfolded napkin to wipe his mouth.

"There's a record store right across from the house actually, you might check it out since you're quite fond of music." I was a bit flattered he remembered my love for music, it was what made me feel and think. I also dated a rockstar for 6 years, how could I not love music? The two of us finished our meals while having small conversations about all different things. Getting to know Oliver was the highlight of my week, him and I got along so well although we weren't much alike. 

"I'll have to check it out." I gave him a smile as I considered the idea. 

The air outside was a bit chilly, not too bad to handle though. Goosebumps arose upon my gentle skin, sending shivers down my spine (BODYS ACHING ALL THE TIMEEEE). We walked in a pair, the sound of distant traffic could be made out through the crisp breeze we both encountered. Our strolling led us to this small park that was placed on the bank of a fenced off pond. Oliver had averted his eyes to my now shivering frame, the wind across the body of water made the air seem a lot colder and it was taking an affect on me physically. I had noticed the grizzly man next to me had removed his olive-green pea coat, only leaving him in his grey sweater and black jeans. 

"For you, my lady." He dramatized the action, making it come off as sarcastically romantic. I had to admit I was flattered by his kind gesture.

"Thank you, kind sir." I played back, accepting the larger coat. As I slid it on I realized I looked like a 2 year old wearing their fathers jacket. Everything about the coat wasn't snug or form fitting, but it made me warm on the inside and out. We continued our path that led us to a wooden park bench that over looked the pond. As he sat down and let out a sigh of relief, I pushed up against the fence, looking out onto the water. In eyesight, there swam side by side, two white ducks. One duck happened to be bigger and fluffier than the other, making me slightly giggle thinking about Oliver and I compared to the wild animals. "Look," I said pointing out in the direction of the birds, "it's us." He stood up from where he had just placed himself and joined me at the fence, looking out with me. I looked over at him and admired his features as he averted his eyes out to the direction I pointed at. His nose and cheeks were flushed red due to the temperature out, I hadn't noticed before but he had long eyelashes that I was slightly jealous of. I couldn't help but smile in admiration. He then looked down at me, making eye contact that forced now a blush upon my face.

"What are you looking at?" He asked with his kind and soulful smile. I shook my head slightly while looking down at the rubble pavement, under his gaze I felt all sorts of things. Oliver was kind as I've said a million truthful times before, he wasn't like anyone else I'd ever met. He cared for me as a person and respected me and my boundaries. He never pushed me into things I didn't want to do, he also never asked for anything in return when it came to helping me. 

"I'm just looking at the view." I diverted my eyes back up to him, yet again making eye contact. He laughed abruptly while looking out to the water, then back to me.

"You're sure flirty for someone in your situation." I knew he meant that to be lighthearted and funny, but I couldn't help but feel every so slightly hurt. 

"You better zip it." I rolled my eyes with a smile. Getting outside and not being cooped up in a house felt nice, the fresh air expanded my lungs and left a natural taste in my mouth. The great outdoors was the best thing on earth, right next to champagne of course. "Have you ever been heartbroken?" My elbows rested on the wooden pillar, supporting my head in my palms, now watching the two animals interact in their own way.

"Indeed I have."

"Tell me about it, Olly."

"I was visiting America, it was my duty to take over the lumber business once I hit an acceptable age. So I was away on business, while driving I saw this girl on the side of the road. She was waving down cars, clearly trying to get assistance for her broken down vehicle. I stopped and helped her out, everyone who passed her were clearly assholes." He ended his story there, visibly biting the inside of his cheek. I asked him to continue. "We went out for a few years, I proposed, we got married. She left me because apparently she had found someone better to spend her time with. I never saw or heard from her again after our divorce when I turned 25. And now here we are 1 long year later, I still haven't been with a woman since her." He spoke quickly and emotionless about it. He had mentioned he'd been married before but he didn't go into details.

"What was her name?" I asked after a moment of silence.

"Matilda." I slightly nodded in acknowledgement. 

"I know the feeling. One day, it's just the two of you against the world. The next day you're completely replaced with no hesitation. It's as if nothing about you ever mattered." We shared the stillness between the two of us. The scenery was beautiful. At this moment, I felt as if everything was going to be okay, I was going to be okay. 

"Want to head home? I need a nap and a cup of tea?" I could sense the small sadness in his tone, it didn't sound like the usual chirp. 

"Sure." I managed to whisper, following after him along the path. I suddenly heard a voice say my name in a familiar accent, I looked up only to face Brian and Chrissy, both grasping to each other's hands. "Brian? What a wonderful surprise." I managed to hug him and then Chrissy after our small greeting. 

"I haven't heard from you for a while, I was growing a little worried. Is everything going okay?" His curly hair slightly blew to the side in the wind.

"Yeah! Of course. I apologize, I've been having a kind of frantic week. I left the hotel and now I'm trying to figure out where to permanently stay." I stopped myself when I realized he hasn't met or even heard of Oliver yet. "Brian I would love for you to meet my good friend, Oliver. Oliver this is Brian, the one I've been telling you about." Oliver's smile played across his lips once he realized who I was talking about. I had shared stories about Brian and the guys with Olly as we got to know each other, he had definitely known some things about him.

"It's very nice to meet you." He said kindly, Brian had a slight look of shock on his face, probably caused from his American accent. Brian returned the sentence, shaking Olivers hand.

"I know it might be hard for you but Freddie's birthday party is tomorrow and we'd all love for you to attend. It's just, Roger will be there." He looked at me then at Oliver. 

"I would love to attend. I just hope you wouldn't mind if Olly came with." I didn't even bother asking him, I knew he'd come with without complaints. 

"You can bring whoever you wish. You already know the address, just get there at 7pm. I hope to see you there." We said our goodbyes and then shared a final hug, then went our separate ways. I wasn't sure how I felt about the whole situation. I was definitely nervous, I knew I'd eventually have to see Roger again. 

The house was slightly warmer than the air outside, it still felt chilled although it wasn't the worst. Oliver helped me out of the coat I borrowed then hung it on one of the 5 hooks near the wood door, he sniffed as the coat latched on. The drive here was quiet, he was upset and so was I. My feelings went back to depression, I felt I had nothing to look forward to yet again. I removed my shoes as he stood in front of the window in the living room, it overlooked the large and still backyard. I soon accompanied him, not sharing any words between us. When I reached his side he excused himself and walked off to his bedroom.  The two of us now felt distant just from our interaction at the park, I assumed I'd be sleeping on the couch tonight. 

The dark sky fit midnight, striking upon the hour. The house was silent, I couldn't even hear the light snores from Olivers room, which I happened to learn over the course of time, he snores adorably. I had spent the rest of the day alone, he only had emerged from his room to eat and thats it. This was the one night since I've been here that I felt so alone. It reminded me of feeling like a stranger in my own home, like it was with Roger. The feeling of being an outsider slowly drifted upon me, causing my heart to ache in it's chamber. Behind my eyes started to feel heavy, warning me of the tears about to come. All I could do was curl up with no one to hold and let my emotions spiral out. I hated feeling so put up with the world, I hated being so emotionally alone, I hated myself. I felt beyond lost which made me hate myself more, I'm at the age where knowing what I want or what to do is something that was required. But here I am, no job, just lost who seemed to be the love of my life, on some mans couch feeling sorry for myself. I needed out of here, I just wasn't sure what that "here" stood for.

The clock read 6:22 as I frantically applied the last stroke of the ruby red lipstick, I knew it was Rogers favorite. I honestly wasn't sure why I still gave a fuck about how he viewed me, he messed up and lost me, its not the other way around. My feelings were complicated, even after finding out the truth. Most of me just wished this was all a horrible dream, I knew the sad reality of the situation though. I hated admitting it but for Roger, I'd go through all that pain over again, just for him. I felt insane and crazy. I knew it was bad for me, its bad for anyone, I just can't help thinking of all the good times we had. It washed to expect I lost 6 years on him. As I slightly admired the reflection I gazed at in the mirror, in the corner of my eye I caught onto Oliver leaning against the doorframe, watching my every move.

"You coming tonight?" I cleared my throat before speaking. I hadn't talked to him since yesterday. He looked tired, his eyes seemed sunken and lifeless, the shell of a delicate man.

"No." He whispered watching me through the mirror. I felt a little upset he wouldn't be joining me, I wasn't sure I wanted to face Roger alone. I also had no desire to leave Oliver here, sinking into his feelings and loneliness. I nodded softly, I wasn't going to argue with him. "You look beautiful." His random comment made me smile just the tiniest.

"You always look handsome." 

"I'm not sure about always. But I do know you always look like a masterpiece. The world is your gallery." He was cheesy yet so kind. My heart fluttered with life once my ears rung with his compliment. I hushed a thank you, before saying a quick goodbye and walking towards the front door. I was dressed nicely, I had finally put in effort to look good, I wasn't mentally prepared but I was going to push myself. As I sat in my car for the first time in a week, my heart sunk to my stomach, I hesitated as I shifted into reverse. I didn't want to leave the driveway but I knew I needed to, this wasn't for me, it was for Freddie and the boys. Eventually I talked myself into leaving, nothing about this was going to be easy.

Sitting across from Roger was a whole different level than difficult, I tried avoiding looking at him but I caught myself holding eye contact at times. I had been here for about 2 hours, I still haven't said a word to Roger, our non communication said enough. I had chatted with the boys, distracting myself from the pain source in the room, he barely joined in, isolating himself in his own invisible area. 

"We miss you being around, love. Where have you been staying?" Freddie sat beside me, his words were always lighthearted and he cared for me like family. We all cared for each other like a family, in our own way we sort of were one. I didn't have much contact with my biological one due to them moving from the area. I was hesitant to answer that honestly, I didn't want to cause anymore drama between the blonde headed man and I. But, he caused much more pain than this answer would ever cause.

"I've been staying with my friend Oliver, we met just recently at a restaurant across town. We sort of hit it off on night one, he invited me to stay many nights after." I swirled my drink around in my hand, rotating my wrist in a smooth motion. Freddie made a sly yet amused face.

"Oh, you say a man? Is he cute? Have you shagged?" Freddie laughed along with Brian and John. The only person at the table who didn't share the laughter, was Roger. I blushed slightly at the thought of Oliver, I was still wishing he had joined me tonight.

"No, I have not gotten in the bed with him, at least not in that manner. I mean - If I'm being completely honest, he has some good aspects about him." My reply made Freddie howl with excitement.

"Oh darling, we must meet this man of yours!" The conversation continued. It was nice being back with the people I loved the most. 

A few hours had passed, I was a little tipsy but so were we all. I was having fun but that sadness still crept among me. I excused myself from the table, I was craving a break from being under the sight of Rog. I maneuvered my way through the extravagant home, reaching the balcony door. I gently opened and closed it behind me, inhaling the crisp night air. The railing that separated you from the drop down held a cartridge of cigs, I was never a smoker but tonight called for one. I opened the pack, taking one out and holding it between my lips that were a faded matte red. In my luck I knew where Fred kept a few lighters, a silver box located near the door held many of the useful item. I lit the stick, inhaling the disgusting yet stress relieving smoke. The view overlooked the beautiful town, I leaned against the mid torso-high stone barrier, it felt nice just being my own company. Nights like these made me feel like another light upon the town view, my thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of the balcony door closing harshly. I quickly looked back only to see Roger slightly cringing at the loudness, all I could do was roll my eyes and look back in my original spot. He now stood next to me, causing me to swallow hard, my heart thumped in my chest uncontrollably. 

"Hey." His voice was quiet, broken even. It made my heart crack even more.

"Hey." I took a drag from the cigarette before returning the word. He didn't know what to say now, neither did I. He cleared his throat. Not one of us looked at each other.

"Why'd you leave?" I laughed abruptly at his question, was he seriously asking that.

"Roger, I think you know why. Unless you're really that fucking stupid." 

"Why did you give up on me? Why didn't you wait for me to get home and talked to me about it?" 

"Why didn't you keep your promise?" I now looked over at him, my eyes threaten to spill the tears I didn't know I still had after last night. His gaze turned to me too, now both of us made daring eye contact.

"Y/N, you don't know whats been going on. Theres been complications with Fr-" I cut him off, I was tired of excuse after excuse. I didn't need anymore excuses, I needed him to own up to his shit.

"We were a team. The two of us. We're not supposed to hide things from each other. And then the fact you went to someone else to handle that stress with? I've given you everything I had, I gave you my energy and time that I didn't even have. I was always there." He was silent, I could see he was thinking of the next thing to say.

"Freddie is sick. I couldn't go to you because I didn't want to see you hurt, I felt like a fuck up in my own home. I still am a fuck up, but I want to make those mistakes right."

"How long were you with her?" I turned my head once again, I felt a small tear escape, sliding down my cheek. 

"4 months." I let out a harsh puff of air, I felt beyond played. I felt betrayed. I didn't say a word back, only took another inhale of the cig. 

"Please don't give me up." I finally got to the point I silently sobbed, using my palm that held the lit cig to rest against my forehead. 

"I fucking hate you," I managed to get out between the light sobs. I felt embarrassed crying in front of him, I felt so exposed. "But I'm so in love with you at the same time." He closed his eyes, sucking in his top lip then letting it go, allowing his lips to part.

"I fucked up so bad." Tears now started to roll from his eyes, he looked so pure and still beautiful when he cried. The tears welled up in his eyes, once the pressure got too high to handle, they gently fell from the mid of his waterline, his eyes never got red, just glossy. He looked out at the beautiful night sky, lights shone on his face, you could see the city lights sparkle in his eyes. "I just wish I could go back to those nights where everything was above perfect. I loved you so much." He paused. "I love you so much." My heart shattered. I felt so broken.

"How could you love me if you hurt me like that? When you love people, you don't hurt them if you can help it." 

"I was ashamed of myself after the first night, I felt so hurt seeing you struggle to get through to me. I tried so hard to avoid breaking your heart." It was too late for that, my heart was broken since the first moments of him pulling away. 

"I want what we had."

"You had 'what we had' four months ago and then you let it slip away, Roger. It's going to take more than begging me to return back." This is why I wished I had Oliver to accompany me, I would've avoided this whole situation.

"I can promise you, with my whole life, with Brians life, with Johns and Freddies, I will never hurt you or fuck up that bad again." He stood right next to me now, his torso inches away from the right side of my body. I turned my head to look him in the eyes. The light in them was completely gone. "I love you more than I love myself, or life itself. You are my life, not any woman I could meet, not my job, not even music. Y/N Y/L/N, you are the love of my life." The ending was hushed. I wanted to drop everything and give in, but I knew that wasn't the best option. I needed to look out for myself, realistically. 

"I need time." Was all I could whisper back. He let out a deep sigh, he seemed relieved at the possibility of it ending good.

"Please, come home. I'll sleep on the couch, I'll do whatever you want." I wasn't sure what my next move would be.

"I don't know, Roger."

"Please."

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MASTERLIST

[octannibal-blake]

7. routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing (bellarke??)

Thanks for the prompt, nonny! I tweaked it a little bit and is it a drabble? Of course not because i can’t just STOP writing. this all came out in one hour long sitting. i hope you like it.

want a drabble? Send me a prompt from this list.

i.

Clarke prides herself on being one hell of a friend. She’s done her fair share of good deeds over the years and has rightfully earned the nickname ‘mom’ (though Jasper is the only one who calls her that to her face). She’s constantly the one answering three am phone calls to pick up whoever it is that decides to drink a little too much or the one to call after a particularly nasty heartbreak. In fact, she’s even left a shift at the hospital early when Raven had gotten letter from fucking NASA and was scared to open it alone (she was accepted, of course).When it comes to them, the ones she loves, she’ll do anything.

It is this well-known fact that leads her to this moment, exactly how she ends up coming to a screeching halt in the parking lot of her best friend’s apartment complex and running inside with her med kit. The door is unlocked so she pushes her way in frantically and  finds Bellamy sprawled out on the couch holding a bloody towel to his arm. She rushes over to him and he gives her a weak smile.

“Jesus, Bellamy,” she breathes as she pulls the injured arm towards her, “I thought you said it was a small cut?”

He winces as she peels the towel away, “It’s not that bad.”

By his definition, it isn’t. It’s not like he lost an entire limb, that is. It’s about three inches long and deep. Definitely needing stitches but also not life or death. Either way, seeing him bleeding out on his couch makes her heart rate increase a little more than normal.

“You need stitches,” she decides and begins digging into her kit for the proper tools.

“That’s why I called you,” he replies with a smirk and she fights the urge not to poke him with her needle. Leave it to him to cut himself open and act like it isn’t a big deal.

“They have emergency rooms for a reason,” she threads the needle carefully, and clips  off the excess thread at the end.

“Yeah, but I have my own personal emergency nurse.”

She rolls her eyes and pulls on her rubber gloves, “And if I wouldn’t have answered?”

He winces again when she removes the towel completely and replaces it with gauze, putting more pressure than he believes necessary to make a point.

“I guess I would just bleed out on my couch and you’d have to feel guilty for ignoring me,” he smiles at her innocently enough, but this time she does apply a little extra pressure to his wound.

“Ow!” he jumps and she gives him a pointed look, “I’m sorry, okay. I just…I have a student-teacher conference in an hour and it’s important.”

She’ll take it as an excuse. He takes his teaching job so seriously, which is admirable, but sometimes he definitely over does himself. She spreads the numbing gel over the cut, hoping to be as gentle as possible. He remains still for the most part, talking idly about how he managed to cut himself accidentally while trying to cut into a pan of brownies. She has to stop for a moment to laugh, because imagining the well-composed and cocky Bellamy Blake cutting himself on a pan of brownies is too hysterical.

By the end of it, there are seven sutures and a blood covered arm, but the wound is closed and he’s alive.

“You’re the best!” he exclaims happily after examining her work. To her surprise he plants a quick kiss on her cheek and moves to get ready for his conference. She freezes for a moment, touching her cheek where there seems to be a lingering sensation.

“I owe you!” he calls and she can’t help but think he already paid.

ii.

She and Bellamy have had a friendship based on exchanged favors and assistance. They met in college while she worked at the writing center and he needed help writing a paper. He got an A on said paper (she’s a genius, but so is he, she learned) and felt he owed her one. Thus began their friendship. He’s become one of her best friends, especially since most of her of her other friends had dispersed around the country. By the time college ended, she and Bellamy were the only ones remaining in Chicago. Needless to say, they may have dependency issues.

But, he counts on her just as she does him. A month after stitching him up, she gets to cash in on her favor.

“You okay, Princess?” he asks as soon as he answers the phone. It’s become an unspoken rule that they only call for emergencies. Texting is their normal vehicle for communication.

“My car broke down,” she groans into the phone, feeling her pent up frustration coming to a head, “Normally, I’d take the train but it’s one in the morning and I’m fucking tired.”

She worked a double today and after spending half of it in the ER, she’s totally spent. This is just the cherry on top of an already shitty day.

���Give me fifteen minutes,” he grumbles into the phone and like magic, he’s there exactly when he says he’s going to be.

“Do you want me to take a look at it?” he asks when he pulls up and she shakes her head vehemently.

“Honestly, I don’t even care. I’m tired and it can wait until tomorrow.”

He laughs when she dramatically flops into the passenger seat, “You wanna just crash at my place? It’s closer at least. And we both know I’m going to be the one looking at it tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbles. Her exhaustion catches up to her as soon as he puts the car in gear she finds herself half asleep as he carries her into his apartment (he was blessed with a first floor unit). Normally, she would insist on walking because her pride is far too fragile to be carried, but at this point it doesn’t matter.

He places her on top of his covers and she sinks into the mattress with a languid sigh.

“I owe you,” she tells him softly. His lips graze her cheek and she falls asleep with a smile on her face that night.

iii

It becomes weirdly routine like before she knows it. They do things for each other, make dinner, fix cars, arrange DVDs. Their random favors become everyday favors and each time one of them mentions owing one to the other, on instinct they jut out their cheek and wait for the familiar set of lips to press against it. It’s freakishly domestic.

Clarke isn’t the one that notices it. Bellamy’s sister comes into town for Thanksgiving Break and catches on to it instantly. They were hanging out in the kitchen, finsihing up the feast they had been cooking all day while the boys went to the store (crazy, but Clarke really wanted cranberries). She and Octavia were catching up on each others lives, having not seen each other since her move to North Carolina months ago with her boyfriend, Lincoln.

“You remember Harper, right?” Octavia is informing her on all their former college friends whereabouts, “She’s a Fulbright now. She’s in Germany.”

Clarke nods impressively as carves the turkey. She launches into another story and she can’t help but laugh at her friend. Octavia Blake has always been a gossiper.

“And what about you?” she tosses another bone in the trash can, “All this talk about other people, but what about you, O?”

Before she can answer, Bellamy and Lincoln shuffle into the kitchen with grocery bags. She watches has Bellamy shakes the snow from his unruly curls and gives her a grin.

“Gotta love being up North,” he comments, removing his coat. He walks over to her and hands her the can of cranberries she had so desperately wanted.

“I went ahead and scraped your car for you, too,” he informs her and, in retrospect it does seem like a broken record, leans against the counter next to her.

She says it without thinking, “I owe you one.”

She turns her cheek instinctively and he kisses it gently before beginning to lay out the dishes on his small dining room table. Nothing feels out of place until she glances over to find Octavia staring at her suspiciously.

“What?” she asks naively.

The younger Blake forgoes an answer and just grabs the cranberries from her hand and opens them. She doesn’t think much of it.

Until it happens again not an hour later. They finish their meals, but have lingered at the table to chat after Octavia’s announcement. They’re engaged! She spends an adequate amount of time fawning over the ring and talking wedding plans but at some point, she decides, she has to clear the table.

Bellamy and Lincoln are talking quietly and she finds herself surprised at Bellamy’s relaxed demeanor. After all, his baby sister is getting married. When she had first started dating, he had been a nightmare of a brother. She reaches over his shoulder to grab his plate, hoping not to interrupt the peace talk between the two men. He grabs at the plate and begins to stand.

“I got it,” she fusses and he sits down slowly handing it over.

“Thanks,” he says and this time it’s him who pushes his jaw out a little further. She reacts immediately, pecking him on the cheek and moving to the kitchen.

She manages to plant the dishes in the sink safely before Octavia corners her.

“What the hell, Clarke?” she hisses and pulls on her wrist meaningfully.

“What?”

The dark haired beauty rolls her eyes and pulls on her wrist again, “Don’t play dumb. You and my brother? How long has that been a thing?”

She widens her eyes innocently, “We’re friends, you know that.”

When it comes out of her mouth, she knows she’s lying. She’s spent a long time trying to convince herself that her and Bellamy are just friends. It was easier when they were dating other people. When all their friends still lived in town and they weren’t forced to be alone all the damn time. She can’t pinpoint the moment it changed. Somewhere along the line, for her at least, the feelings became a lot more. She’s tried dating in the past year with no luck, chalking it up to shitty people. However, now that she thinks about it, it’s because she spends every date comparing them to Bellamy. Fuck.

“I’m serious,” she argues again weakly and Octavia finally releases her wrist.

“Keep lying to yourself, Clarke.”

iv.

With all the holidays, avoiding Bellamy isn’t all that hard for her. After her conversation with Octavia, she finished out the day with them before excusing herself to the hospital. She’s never good at confronting her feelings, so removing herself from the situation always came as the best option for her. She throws herself into her work, picking up double shifts and fighting the urge to call him at any slight emergency. His side remains eerily calm as well. They still text daily, but no opportunity for favor arises.  Christmas comes and goes and he asks her when she’s going to exchange gifts with him. His gift has been wrapped for months, a first edition anthology of his favorite Greek deities. She had been so excited to give it to him, but now it all seems daunting.

She’s in love with her best friend. She’s been in love with him for at least the past year, if not more. It didn’t happen intentionally, clearly since she hasn’t known it was happening at all. But now she has to reconcile with it. She could tell him and he could feel the same. Or she could tell him and risk losing his friendship. The thought alone nearly kills her. By the time she decides it’s best to Keep her feelings a secret and hope they dissipate over time, New Years rolls around and everyone is home for the occasion. She can’t exactly avoid this one.

But She can definitely drink to forget about it. Yes, she’s an adult and should be far beyond using alcohol as a crutch, but it is what it is. She’s on her third shot and singing along to the current karaoke tune with Jasper and Monty when Bellamy shows up.

“Couldn’t wait until I got here to start?” he says into her ear and she hates the way the hair on her neck stands up.

“You’re late,” she responds casually, although she feels far from casual. To her dismay, Jasper gets up from his seat to go request another song and Bellamy takes it without hesitation.

Suddenly she isn’t nearly drunk enough.

“Long time, no see, Princess,” he drums his fingers on the bar, something he typically only does when he’s nervous.

Before when can stop herself, she calls him out, “Something got you on edge?”

To her surprise, he doesn’t seemed fazed by it, “You. Being dressed like that.”

Is he flirting with her? Her head snaps around faster than she means it too, and he’s watching the live coverage of NYC with only the slightest of smiles on his face. She tries to play his game and brushes off the compliment.

“Please,” she scoffs, “I always knew you thought I was hot.”

“Think,” he corrects and signals the bartender who finally decided to look his way, “Think you’re hot.”

Her mouth falls open a little. While they’ve always been playful with one another, this is a whole new territory. He’s definitely flirting with her. What is she supposed to do? She spent an entire month overanalyzing everything in fear of losing him for good and he just waltzes in and puts it all on the line. Fuck it, she thinks. She doesn’t have anything to lose at this point.

“We’re just meant to be then, aren’t we?” she hopes her voice sounds steady because she sure as hell isn’t. It seems to get his attention because now his eyes are boring into hers.

She gives him a sweet smile, “Being two incredibly attractive and intelligent people that is.”

Before he can respond, the bartender finally stops to take his order.

“Two Jack and Cokes,” he says and hands over a ten.

“Trying to catch up?”

He grins mischievously, “One is for you.”

She pretends to be appalled, the flirtation getting easier and easier with each moment, “Bellamy Blake, are you trying to get me drunk?”

He doesn’t answer, he just slides her drink over to her and clinks his glass against hers. Out of habit, she leans over and he immediately offers her his cheek. She plants a sloppy kiss onto it before taking a long sip from her cup. No one had to say, ‘I owe you. Not this time.

They spend the rest of the night mingling amongst their friends, enjoying having everyone home for the first time months. It isn’t until the five minute countdown begins that he finds her again. She’s standing to the side, watching as Miller and Monty karaoke their favorite Rent song (Normally, Miller would never admit to enjoying a musical, but dating Monty had made him a huge softy), when he sidles up next to her and places a careful arm around her waist.

“I still owe you your Christmas present,” he says into her ear and offers her a beautifully wrapped package in his other hand.

She shakes her head at him shamefully, “I didn’t bring yours with me.”

He doesn’t seem to mind and hands her the package anyway. Monty and Muller have finished their song and gathered around the television with everyone else, leaving them secluded in the back of the bar. It all seems suddenly intimate.

He nudges her to go ahead and she pulls the paper off carefully revealing a sleek black box. When she pulls it open, she actually gasps. Nestled inside is a beautiful new stethoscope, one she had admired online months ago. She must have mentioned it to him without thinking.

“This was really expensive…” is all she can say, still trying to gather her composure.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.

“Good bonus this year,” he says simply. When she finally looks at him, her heart nearly bursts in her chest. She fucking loves this man and at this point, hiding it would be useless.

He smiles down at her and gives a little tap to his cheek, waiting for her usual kiss of gratitude. She gives it to him, but instead of his cheek she grabs his face in her hands and crushes her lips to his. He responds immediately, gathering her up into his arms and making sure she knows that everything she’s felt, he’s felt to.

When they pull back, the crowd is cheering in the bar, their friends are cheering around them, and the clock reads 12:01am.

Hell of a way to start a New Year.

[lusciousvertigo]

As One Door Closes

… another one opens or so my Mother had always said but she’d also said that drinking several litres of Absolut would ensure that you forgot your failings and the loneliness after the waste of space my Dad was had fucked off and left her with a six month old squalling me. Those doors however? Seemed to stay permanently closed unless I worked myself into an early grave to achieve exactly what I want for me. The Kessler name had once been one to be respected at one point; my Dad had served in the military from the age of seventeen, honoring those who had served before on both sides of my family going back to the time of the Civil War and he had risen swiftly through the ranks becoming a Lieutenant General which apparently is really high and Mom still had a photograph of him in her room in his fancy uniform. SHe cries over it regularly and gets really pissed off when I tell her that maybe she would feel better if she wasn’t looking at the bastard who left us every day. Turns out that my Mom has a really vicious backhand when talking about dear ol’ Dad and I’ve learnt to keep my mouth shut over it all and embrace my distaste over them both by getting rid of my golden blonde curls with a bottle of dye and refusing to go lie out in the sunshine like the bitches of Hemery High School… Ah the place that spawn opinionated bitches out to be Valley girls who spent every waking moment looking perfect for their rich Father-figure boyfriends to marry. Just like my Mom had done… after all she got herself knocked up by a man twice her age and wondered why he did a fast one the moment he could so that he wasn’t shackled to a bimbo and a brat. His loss… my Mom may well drink herself into an early grave now? But there was a time when she was the epitome of a 1950s housewife ensuring I was well-fed and cared for (by well-fed read extremely strict diet so that I would be able to be a cheerleader and make her dreams come true so that I could become head cheerleader and come home with trophies galore…) I can now clarify that I despise protein shakes and the strict regimes she had me on that had me become a stick insect before I was thirteen. Hemery had been Hell ninety per cent of the time, as I became a misfit. Not because I was in a household made up of my Mom and I but because she was an addict and it got around the school within minutes thanks to.. Guess who? The cheerleaders and the jocks. I swore there and then that I wouldn’t end up like my Mom and worked hard through school earning good grades and pushing myself in the dance studio.. I had a dream and it was one that went against the look I had grown to love and embrace fully as my own now as Ariana Keller - child of drunk and a now deceased Dad. (Trust me, if I go there - I won’t stop and the irony of it is I found out before Mom did when I saw his photo in the obituaries section of the paper} I lost myself to music and the poise and grace found in the art of ballet. My Mom had been furious with me declaring that I was letting her down and had abandoned all her hopes and dreams.. But I had been training for years now, been offered a place in The Juilliard School - yes, the place to go if you had a true passion and talent for Dance, Drama, and/or Music.. It was there that I found peace and quiet because I was out the clutches of my Mother thanks to her decision that I was too much like my Dad and that meant I was to be cast aside and forgotten. Which had meant the last five years of my life had been relatively quiet and that of course meant I was in for a returning of the dead and that would ensure that the peace I had known would end. I’d earned my BFA with a diploma (Bachelor of Fine Arts) a year ago and had found work in various theatres throughout New York and had high hopes for what would happen.. My life was indeed in my own hands and I wanted to make the most of it before everything went wrong with the arrival of one Jennifer Mayfield also known as ‘Mom’... I mean life couldn’t be good forever right? Making my way to my apartment in the Village, I trolled through the fifty or so messages she had left each and everyone filled with what had to be the ravings of a mad woman. She swore that there were monsters in the Valley; I wonder if she’d switched vodka to something a little more interesting and illegal in the form of Charlie until I remembered just why I had learnt to admire the former cheerleader turned freak in Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers and her rebel boytoy Oliver Pike.. the two of them had burnt down the gym of Hemery High to kill these freaks or what was it they had been accused of being? Oh that was it ‘an attack by a gang on PCP.’ Whoever came up with that excuse clearly hadn’t actually witnessed what a gang on PCP actually looked like and they certainly didn’t have faces that resembled wax masks under the sun.. But I didn’t believe in monsters either - not that kind anyway. Monsters were child molesters, absentee parents, abusers of the elderly. There’s a fucking long list let me tell you but not one of them came from an episode of Supernatural otherwise there would be a mass hunt throughout the country for the Winchesters to ‘assist’. Also known as women (and men) wanting to drag Sam and Dean under the sack to make mini-hunters. My internal thoughts are going to have me burning in the fiery pits because if my Mom was right, swearing was sinful as was me abandoning her (despite losing my sanity when I stayed there) and I would burn. Catholics… worse than any prison guard I tell ya. But if my Mom didn’t get a call back from me; given as there were ten missed calls within the last hour? She would presume I was dead and I had already had two cases of the police contacting me as my Mom believed I was missing presumed DOA in the nearest hospital. That had been embarrassing and on the last time the police had arrived at my apartment? I had sat with them and shared my dinner with them as they took their report down … and asked me if I was concerned that my Mom had mental issues or had been assessed for depression or other such conditions. I had wanted to disappear into the ground right there and then. But that was then and this is now and clearly my Mom was concerned and I had to become the adult dealing with a child. I would get her to talk to me and then try to persuade her to put her crutch down - the vodka treble she will have no doubt poured a few of so that she would go to bed and sleep it off. I just had to hope I wouldn’t have to go to the coach station and travel from Manhattan to LA because that would screw me up in my rehearsals for my part as Ophelia in the ballet performance of Hamlet at the Zeigfeld. I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t throttle her if that occurred. Again. Perhaps it was the stress of my life and need to be the best at my classes that I would find some way to unburden the weight of fear and failure. I would visit clubs pretty much nightly to drink and forget the pain of my various pairs of dance shoes. It would be on a crowded dance floor that I would embrace the feeling of feeling truly alone when music would flow through me like the very blood in my veins. I paid little attention to the dangers I was in; or rather refused to allowed my already beleaguered mind to process the several outcomes my behaviour could of perhaps more accurately; would induce. I saw dangers and discarded them both in the form of writhing bodies in a smoky and dark club; or along the sidewalks where any old vehicle to plough me down in the blink of an eye causing my Mother to finally lose control of the few marbles she still possessed. I was alone in the crowd; but there was always a sensation akin to the hairs on the back of my neck rising. I never spoke of it; never mentioned it to the few friends at Juilliard I had lest they think nights spent in a padded room with lovely white blinding lights would aid my recovery. After all; saying someone was watching you; even when you were undressing for bed was something that could be deemed as far-fetched. Even by those I entrusted my deepest secrets. And yet.. I swore I saw the same bleached white hair in each and every bar or club I frequented.. and then it would sneak up on me when I secured the curtains to my bedroom. Someone was indeed out there; I just had no way of proving it; or knowing just why someone would do such a thing without malignant intent for my person.. He was protecting me; I escaped muggings and threats to my life only for them to disappear once I was ordered to the room. He installed fear and yet security info my mindset and I was interlude lost wondering the simplest of questions? Why me?