#Best bulletproof cars

[ken-dom]

Everything Looks Better When The Sun Goes Down

Driver x afab!reader

3k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Getaways usually come with a strong dose of adrenaline. He can usually deal with it himself, but this time a far more thrilling prospect presents itself.

∘₊✧ Authors notes: I wrote this well over a month ago, and finally decided to dust it off and post, with encouragement from K, with whom the Driver conversation is never-ending and delicious! I would advise caution because he's kinda creepy in this one (compared to how I’ve written him before). Title from Make Me Wanna Die by The Pretty Reckless.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, dubious consent, masturbation, fingering, sex, glove kink, kissing kink, just a dash of sneaky, creepy, stalker-y Driver

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Driver’s leather-covered fingers tightened with a creak of resistance against the steering wheel. He might know the roads like the back of his hand, but being the getaway driver comes with the occupational hazard of not actually being able to control what your chasers will do, no matter how clever and thorough your plan.

Even if you’ve seen every trick in the book. Even if you have something of a sixth sense for predicting their movements.

Surprises can’t always be avoided, and tonight he was doing his best to get out of a surprise.

This had been just a touch more complicated to plot than his usual getaway routine. Locations hadn’t been quite as simple to pin down so timings would be off and he couldn’t have that. The only alternative was to alter his default plan of action only very slightly, yet the risks, apparently, tripled.

Or maybe Driver had just been unlucky.

He had kicked out the two masked men he had been hired to drive, easily getting rid of them en route as part of the plan, sticking to time down to the second, and then embarking on the more unusual part two, which simply required Driver to get himself away and hide the car somewhere different to where he’d hidden them. The route was meticulously added to his map, the hiding spots checked, double and triple checked, ahead of time.

Yet, despite the police radio suggesting they’d lost sight of tonight’s unassuming car of choice, the cops had picked back up, hot on Driver’s trail the moment he pulled back out onto the main streets.

He didn’t bat an eyelid at first. He knew what he was doing, after all; this wasn’t his first car chase by a long stretch. If he wanted to ‘wing it,’ he could. Easily. But he would never. He would simply go about the bulletproof backup plan designed for the event that this unlikely situation would come to fruition. All was fine.

Except that he really couldn’t seem to shake them. Every move he made, it was as though they’d read his mind and were one step ahead. It wouldn’t have been possible, but it was as if they somehow seen his detailed maps. They were only for his eyes though, and if anyone ever did see them… well. He would have to make it so that they remained only for his eyes.

Whatever was going on here, it seemed almost like someone was out to get him personally. His jaw clenched at the thought and his heart began to slam against his chest, breathing fast and ragged.

He tried to refocus. On the road, on the soft interior of his jacket against his arms. On the toothpick almost chewed in two between his teeth.

There were limited options at this point, and he was running out of ideas, running out of streets to slip down before they could predict his next action.

Driver firmly reminded himself to stick to the facts and ignore his physical response. He was still ahead. Just. 

Actually, he was nearing your house. Oh…

No.

He shouldn’t distract himself, but it was hard not to notice that he’d pulled onto your street almost by muscle memory alone and he wondered if you’d see him, followed by that one police car that he was sure would soon be two, then three, sirens blazing.

It was darker down here. Residential, with parked cars dotted up and down the road, canopied with large leafy trees that blocked out the moonlight, too. So he killed his headlights and slowed down to avoid attracting any additional unwanted attention.

His ears pricked up as the discussion on the radio started up again in place of relaying the names of the streets they were chasing him down; they’d lost him again.

Just like last time they lost him. But they had found him as soon as he resurfaced, and he couldn’t sit out here on your street all night in plain view, no matter how unsuspecting the car may look to your neighbours.

A little blue Honda rattled by and he flinched.

Come on. Get a grip, he scolded himself.

His head began to pound.

He needed to find somewhere new to hide the car properly, and hide himself while he was at it. Fast. Somewhere he could stay for long enough that they’d really give up this time.

Another thought struck him and he blinked hard. He had to regain some self control. But your house was approaching on the right.

He couldn’t. Could he? 

His eyes scanned the street. There were no other Hondas. No other moving vehicles. He couldn’t see anyone peering out of their windows into the dark street. 

Then he found the end of your driveway, visible in the near distance. Your garage door was up. No car. You were out. Perfect.

No. He couldn’t.

Fuck. He was going to have to. 

Besides, if anything did come of this, he could keep you safe. He was sure of that. No harm would ever come to you on his watch. Ever.

He slowly pulled onto your driveway and rolled the car to a gentle stop inside the garage, winding down the driver side window to punch the button on the wall that controlled the garage door. With a low hum and a light clicking, it swung down and locked into place with a soft clunk.

Complete darkness. The purr of the engine. And then, the crackle of the police radio.

Driver tensed, every bit of focus honed in on the voices coming through the small device.

With a note of three identifiable items: the car colour, model and number plate (two of which could easily be altered), and a reminder of where it was last seen (the next street along from this one), they’d officially given up the chase.

He relaxed into his seat, slumping down and stretching his long legs as far as they could lengthen in the confinement of the footwell, spreading his knees and dropping his head back against the headrest.

He would need to stay here for now, but that was manageable.

He killed the engine, trying to force his breath even and steady himself before he got out. 

Although it had been tough, now it was over, he couldn’t deny that it had been exciting. There was rarely a time it wasn’t.

He felt a stirring in his core, the familiar thrill that ran through his trembling body every time he got away, high on adrenaline and filled with self satisfaction.

And he did get away. Every time. But this time? It had been a closer call than any he could remember and he was shaking, excitement coursing through his veins, sending all his blood south to throb between his spread thighs.

He chuckled, smirking and dropping his hands to his lap from where they were still bracing, tight storing the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat as one palm slowly teased higher up his thigh.

It was becoming painful to sit here in these too-tight jeans, the denim rough against his leaking cock, and he hissed as he dragged his palm over the thrumming bulge that had formed inside them the moment he knew he was safe.

He felt a particularly thick drop of precum leak from his tip, gasping at the short lived relief his wandering hand had provided, gloved fingers now flying to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans and free his aching length, all patience out the window. It didn’t matter how long it took. He just needed the release.

But as the first button popped undone, his ears pricked up at the unmistakable sound of tires rolling onto your driveway behind that garage door. He froze, heart racing, cock twitching, every sense heightened almost painfully.

He relaxed when he heard your car door slam shut, the sound of your shoes on the gravel. He’d know those sounds anywhere. He knew all the sounds you made – he’d studied you enough – and had an entire catalogue of them stored away safely in the back of his mind.

Hastily, he reached for the radio and flipped the switch back on. Nothing. Nothing about him, anyway. Nothing about you. You were safe even with him locked away inside your garage.

He heard your keys jingling against the lock of your front door, knowing you were inside once it had clicked shut and the jingle was muffled.

He breathed a long, shaky sigh of relief.

Seconds later, his personal cell buzzed from inside his jacket pocket.

One hand resting still against the denim covering his aching hard on, he fished his phone out and unlocked it, absentmindedly rubbing his fingertips over his length and whimpering when he saw your name on the screen above the message you’d sent.

‘Hey, babe… you up?’

Another thick pearl of precum.

Fuck. He could hide in here all night, sexting with you from just the next room, or…

He didn’t bother fastening up his belt or that one button he’d opened when he swung the car door open and jumped out, biting back a moan at the friction of his jeans settling, slightly looser and more comfortable, against his cock as he stood.

He knew where you kept your spare key, and the combination on the safety box that kept it hidden, so he retrieved it and let himself in through the internal garage door that led to your kitchen.

Driver was silent. Barely a sound as he crept through the house, knowing every floorboard and the placement of every piece of furniture down to the millimetre.

The house was dark, which made it easy for him. You’d only switched on one lamp since you returned; the one in the hallway where you still stood, hanging up your jacket and waiting for him to reply.

Your phone laid unlocked on the sideboard, opened to the message you’d sent him as you slipped off your shoes, eagerly awaiting his reply. 

‘Come on,’ you breathed needily at your screen, ‘start typing!’ — and Driver swallowed hard.

He stuck to the shadows as he watched you, from the kitchen doorway, careful not to let his breathing turn too heavy, and certainly not above stroking himself over his jeans a couple of times just for the thrill of it.

You threw your shoes in the cupboard and picked up your phone again, checking to see if he was typing yet, and upon seeing that he wasn’t even online right now, you heaved a disappointed breath.

He might not have typed a reply, but he was ready to answer you.

‘I’m up,’ he breathed, hot against the back of your neck and you jumped, but his arms wrapped tight around yours, keeping you from fighting back, and he pulled you close as he breathed you in.

The still-gloved fingers of one of his hands hand toyed with the neckline of your shirt, ghosting around your throat as the other thrust unceremoniously into your jeans and dragged through your folds.

Even with his gloves on, he could tell you were already soaked.

It took you a terrifying moment, but your instinctual fear subsided, quickly replaced with burning arousal when you felt his cock pressing into your back, smelled his familiar scent, felt his glove teasing at your throat.

‘You are up,’ you sighed, reaching behind yourself to snake a hand between your flush bodies and drag your palm over his length in time with the fingers so precisely massaging your clit, and you moaned. Loud.

Driver’s knees felt like they might give out.

‘Mmmh-’ he hummed into your ear, ‘s-stop- fuck-’

You grinned, smug as ever about how easy he was to unravel, and at the wet patch you’d felt seeping through his thick jeans.

Despite the heat rapidly pooling at your core, you didn’t think on it for long, because any coherent thought was immediately pushed out of your mind when his hands left your core and throat, instead gripping your shoulders and spinning you to face him, slamming you back against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours with bruising force.

He pushed a thigh between your legs, pressing firmly against your heat and you moaned, muffled by his mouth as his tongue dragged hungrily against yours. Driver was always such a needy kisser, so passionate and intense and it made your head spin. But this was something else. 

You gripped him hard, moaning and writhing against him, and he shuddered at your reaction, whining against your lips before fully pulling away to focus on freeing his cock.

Slightly dizzy, you removed your own trousers as fast as you could, hooking a leg around his waist as he shoved his wet jeans down and pushed forward, lifting you in his strong arms to help you clamp your other leg around his waist.

His eyes slid closed as he felt your slick against his cock, trying with all his might not to spill his release before he’d fucked you. The adrenaline was still so fresh, spurred on by breaking in and sneaking up on you, that he could hear his blood pumping in his ears. He felt almost invincible; but he knew that with just one eager and misguided move he would cum, ending it all too soon.

No. He needed to feel you around him. Feel you clench with need. Hear you scream. Fill you up.

He closed his eyes to refocus.

Now you were pinned between him and the wall, he slipped a hand down to guide himself to your entrance, a simultaneous relieved groan from both of you echoing around your entrance hall as he slid himself inside.

He stilled for a moment, composing himself, forehead pressed to yours because he knew that a kiss, even a soft and tender exchange, would break him.

He also knew that right now, one thrust and it would be over for him, so he moved his fingers up, massaging your clit in slow, precise circles, as though this was all designed purely to give you time to adjust.

Your head dropped back and you squirmed, trying to fuck yourself on him as his fingers sent wave after wave of shuddering bliss through your body. The angle was delicious, but balanced around his waist you couldn’t move enough to get what you needed.

‘Please,’ you begged, ‘fuck me- please-’

Driver growled, low and dark, against your throat. He could never resist giving you exactly what you wanted, and he could feel your walls tightening around him already. A low groan tore from his throat. You were close too. 

Sicko, he thought. Like it when I break in and sneak up behind you? Shove a hand in your pants to try and get you off before you even realise it’s me?

Keeping his fingers against your throbbing bundle of nerves, he fucked you alright. Hard and fast and unrelenting, hips snapping frantically as he whimpered and gasped weakly into the thick air filling the inch between your mouths.

It was too late to stop his orgasm approaching. He’d been simmering for too long, and the way you’d kissed him, the way you’d begged him, the way you got wet just from him acting like a creep… his head was spinning.

The way he was fucking you, unceasing and intense, had you clawing at his jacket, wishing he’d taken it off so you could feel more of him, but there was no time. You pushed your fingers up to slide through his soft, neat hair instead, and he shuddered against you, biting down on his bottom lip. His blood boiled.

Fuck it. He smashed his lips back onto yours, tears pricking his eyes.

He finally spilled inside you, cock pulsing through his release. He squeezed his eyes shut, painfully aware you hadn’t cum yet, but his fingers on your clit hadn’t ceased, and as his cock began to soften, sensitive with aftershocks, he felt you clench tight around him. Your fingertips scraped against his scalp and your legs tightened around his waist and you cried out, loud and strangled, bucking your hips wildly as you chased your release.

Driver’s eyes welled with the tears he couldn’t bite back, dropping onto your shirt.

As you came down from your high, you stroked his hair back into place and slipped down from your position, standing on wobbly legs, head spinning, and Driver propped himself up with an arm against the wall, caging you in.

Your palm grazed his cheek, a tender thumb wiping his tears away.

He leant into your touch, eyes closed and breath slowing all the while.

‘So it was you who closed my garage door?’ you whispered, and he nodded against your palm. ‘Naughty boy,’ you added, teasing.

He looked up at you through the most stunning, sparkling, wet eyes and you knew you’d never stay mad for long – especially not when he fucked you so good and unravelled for you so easily.

‘Been on a job, baby?’ you cooed.

He nodded against your palm again.

‘Gonna jerk off in my garage until I arrived home and ruined the moment?’

Driver stiffened, eyes wide as he considered you, awed at the way you understood how his mind worked. Against his better judgement, he nodded, slowly.

‘Filthy boy,’ you added with a playful smirk. ‘Glad you found me instead, though.’

‘Yeah?’ he managed, weak and quiet, voice cracking.

‘Yeah. I fucking love it when you try so hard not to cum right away.’

His brow furrowed, but you hooked your fingers under his chin and lifted his gaze back to you, softly pressing your lips to his once again.

He whimpered, feeling weak, but he needed this more than anything after the rush. He was crashing, fast and needed comfort. Safety.

‘Wanna get into bed and make out until we fall asleep?’

Driver’s heart skipped, and he nodded again. It wasn’t always a bad thing to feel like someone was reading his mind.

[codfanficedits]

One fucking mistake - Full version - Ending two.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader - She/her pronouns being used - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!OC

Summary: Simon lost you after making a mistake on a mission.

Wordcount: 12655 | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: cussing, swearing, grieving, angst with comfort, conversation, mentioning of memoryloss, therapist, depression (and the nasty kind), funeral.

A/N: Full version of the fic. This is the happier ending.

I didn't proofread and English isn't my native tongue, so please let me know if there are mistakes.

AO3 Link ~ Full version ending one.

One fucking mistake.

That was all it took for life to take you away from him. Simon hated himself, flat out hated himself. He was the one he asked you to go on this mission with him. Simon was the one who double checked your gear, giving your bulletproof vest some little tugs to make sure that it was secure. Simon had been the one to beg you to come on this mission with him. After all, you had been the best thing that had happened to him, and what better way to keep you safe than to keep you close to him at all times?

Another sip of whiskey when he tries to drown out the memories of that mission.

Simon had promised himself to keep you safe, safe from the world, safe from the enemy, safe from himself, and he had failed. He had failed you so badly. If only he had listened to you when you said no the first time, if only he hadn’t pouted and tried to bribe you into coming with him. If he wouldn’t have done that you’d still be next to him.

Another sip of whiskey while he tries to forget his own screams when he lost you.

Simon would give everything in his power to turn back time, to accept your first no, to kiss you on your nose and to take that mission on with someone else. He would sacrifice the whole taskforce if that meant he could have you back. All of them, with his bare hands if he had to. But he knew it wouldn’t make a difference, he knew he couldn’t change the outcome, so the only thing he could do was punish himself for his mistakes.

When he finishes his glass of whiskey he wants to raise his arm to order another one. A large hand on his arms stops him.

“You’ve had enough, Simon.”

Captain fucking Price.

“I’ll fucking decide when I’ve had enough.” Simon barks. His anger redirecting to John, angry that the captain approved you going on that mission with him. It was his job to care for his soldiers and Price had clearly failed you and him.

Price’s hand grabs a handful of Simon’s hair. “Get a fucking grip on yourself, Simon.” His voice is a low hiss, almost intimidating. “That’s a fucking order.”

A stare off starts, Simon doesn’t want to back down, no, Simon wants someone to be punished for losing you. And Price refuses to be that person.

“I get that you’re grieving.” Price starts.

“Oh do you now?”

“Simon.” A soft sigh follows Price’s lips. “I do, but this is not the way to deal with this.”

Simon stays silent, of course he knows this is not the way to deal with it, but it is the way that feels good, the way that makes him forget about you. The way that makes him forget about the guilt that he feels.

“Come on.” Price orders him. “Let’s get you back to base.” The hand that had been gripping on his hair makes its way back to his neck, and with a firm hand he guides Simon off the barstool, back to the car.

It is a quiet, but tense ride back to base. Neither of the men want to break the silence.

Eventually Price bites the bullet.

“We’re worried about you, Simon.” He begins. “I am worried about you.”

“I don’t need your worries or your care.” Simon spat back, all he wanted was you back.

“You need something. Something we can’t give you.”

“What are you implying?”

“Simon.” It’s a soft sigh. “Maybe it would be for the best if you took some time off, yeah?”

No. Simon had already lost the person he cared most about, he couldn’t stand losing his job too, even if it was temporarily.

“Not a chance.”

“But, Simon I thi-“

“I said not a chance.”

Price let out a sigh, he knows better than to argue with a heartbroken, grieving soldier, but Price also knows he can’t allow this behaviour to continue for much longer. Simon is becoming a liability to the team, to himself, and he needs to prevent that.

The both of them don’t say a word until they reach the base again. But even then the tension was thick between the two of them. Without saying a word Simon got out of the car, taking large steps to avoid any form of communication with Price, not in the mood to talk anymore.

Simon reaches his room quickly and when he closes his door behind him, he gets overwhelmed with this insane amount of guilt. He had already lost you, and it felt as if everything was slipping between his fingers.

Simon falls to his knees, praying to the Gods that you’re safe and that you will return to him soon. His prayers are raw and desperate, begging for the universe to stop the cruel trick it’s playing on him.

He doesn’t get up when the door creaks open and Soap gets in. Price had told him what had happened, and Soap wanted to talk to his friend, but the sight of a grown man on his knees, begging the universe to bring someone back is a difficult thing to watch.

“You’re praying again?” Soap eventually mutters. “How raw are your knees?”

“Fuck off!” Simon snaps at him.

Soap can only shake his head. “I don’t think you’re truly mean.” He answers. “You have sad eyes.”

And with those words Simon is left alone again. His whole life smelled like you, and it would take time. Undoing you from his blood.

He crawls to his bed, on his knees, tears streaming down his face when he is once again reminded that you’re not here with him.

He doesn’t even bother with taking off his clothes as he crawls under the covers the two of you used to share every night. And he starts to think about another universe, one where he has found you again, where the two of you fall in love again, were the two of you stay together and have the happiest life together. And he loves, loves, loves you. Simon realizes that if he could have done it again, he would have loved you better, but he could not have loved you more.

The feelings of guilt and grief have started to feel so familiar that is has become comforting enough to fall asleep.

And when the morning comes, and Simon is once again reminded of what life has taken from him, he starts to understand why people smoke until their lungs are black, why people drink the night away or why they throw themselves off buildings.

His mind didn’t register the warm water of the shower anymore, everything in life started to feel dull, the warmth of the sun no longer hitting his skin, the smell of lavender no longer reaching his nose, even food started to taste as bland as he felt.

Simon dreaded going to debriefings, the stares he would get, full of compassion, it made him sick to his stomach, they all thought that they knew what he was going through, but no one really knew how he felt, and he was not about to share it with anyone.

He was the last to join, and as expected all the heads turned towards him when he walked in, taking his usual seat. He despised the looks his teammates gave them, and he refused to meet their gazes, his eyes focused on the paper before him.

“Simon.” Price starts.

“Ghost.” He corrects.

“I’m sorry.” Price clears his throat. “Ghost. We’re going back to that mission whe-“

“Why.” His voice is sharp.

“We’re going to search for a body.”

Simon can feel his heartbeat in his ear, and he can feel his face getting red. He doesn’t want to search for a body. Because not having a body meant you were still Missing In Action. It meant that there was still a chance you would come back to him, it meant that if he prayed hard enough, you would return to the place where you belonged. His arms.

Finding your body would mean that you would be Killed In Action, it would mean that he would need to find a crowbar and pry the pieces of God of out his body, a punishment for being abandoned. Finding you would mean that he had to accept that his mission had killed you, and he wasn’t ready to face that.

“No.” His answer was short.

“It has been three weeks.”

“I don’t care!” Simon slams his fist on the table to power up his words.

“We’re going and you can either join us or stay here.” Price gives him the choice.

And Simon doesn’t know what to do, because he wants to stay in the bubble he had created for himself, he wanted to believe that you would just show up, as an early Christmas present. And if he went to look for you, he’d know for certain you would never come back.

But he couldn’t let the other find you. It would be a betrayal towards you, he had sworn to protect you, he had already failed at that, the least he could do was bring your body home himself.

“I’m coming.”

His teammates look up, slightly confused, all of them had expected him to stay on base.

“Are you sure?” Soap breaks the silence.

“Do I have to repeat myself, sergeant?”

“Of course not Lieutenant.”

But Simon zones out quickly after that. His mind wandering towards the upcoming mission. Bringing you home. How would you look when he found you? Would you still be as pretty? How would your face look? He was worried, worried he’d find you with a terrified look on your face. Worried he would find you half dressed, your innocence taken away by the enemy. All he could be was worried.

 He doesn’t even register his teammates getting up and leaving the debriefing room.

“A word.” The stern voice of his captain snaps him out of it.

“What.”

“You can’t go on like this, Simon.”

“Ghost.”

“No. I’m talking to you as Simon.” Price answers. “I’ll allow you to go on this mission, as I understand how important it is to you, but after we’re back.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I’m your captain and you listen to me.”

Simon can feel the muscle under his eye twitching, he hated it when Price reminded him that he outranked him, but he knew Price wouldn’t back off if it came to a standoff, although Price did seem like a sweet man, he had a lot of bark in him when needed.

“Yes captain.”

“When we’re back, I want you to take some leave, get some professional help. I can’t watch you drink yourself to death every night. I can’t keep covering for you to our higher ups, Simon. You deserve better than this.”

No, no, no. Simon felt as if he deserved exactly what he was given, after all, he had been the one to drag you along on that mission.

“If you say so.”

“Now, go prepare yourself. I can imagine it is going to be tough to get back there.”

Oh it was. Just the mere idea of going back to the place where he lost you was enough for Simon to get his stomach to churn. But he needed to go, he owed it to you, he owed it to himself.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

The words repeating themselves as a mantra inside his head. His heart dropping to his stomach when he has to wear a bulletproof vest again, the memories of him tugging on yours flooding his mind. Your innocent smile, the pout when you reminded him he had to do the dishes when the two of you would come back, a part of the deal he had made with you so you would come with him on that godforsaken mission. He can still feel the sensation of your skin under his knuckles when he playfully brushed them against your cheeks. Simon was desperate, he felt like he was drowning. In pain, anger and self-hatred, and you had always been his lifeline, helping him stay afloat. And now you were gone, by his doing and it takes everything in his being to not drop to his knees and wail. God, God, God. He missed you, your smile, your skin, your hair, your scent. Your eyes. He missed your eyes, they spoke a thousand stories and he was ready to read every word.

If only he could go back in time. But he can’t, instead he has to walk to the same chopper that flew the both of you to a mission, but only brought him back.

He closes his eyes and rests his head against the back of the chopper, after he has taken a seat, begging the universe to let him wake up from this horrible nightmare.

Simon knows he needs to find you now, alive and well, it would be his only chance to have you back again. He doesn’t want to find your body, he doesn't want to be met with the aftermath of that mission. No, no, no. He wants you to sit on a piece of rubble, patiently waiting for him to come pick you up.

He can’t accept your fate, because it isn’t fair. It wasn’t fair and it never, ever will be fair.

Right now you’re still Missing In Action, and right now he still has the chance to have you again.

It’s a horrible sight for the rest of his team, they know they want to help, but Simon pushes them all away, every single one of them gets shut out, no matter how hard to try to just be there for him. He wants you, and no one else is allowed to get close to him. Even with the skull mask on, and his eyes closed, they can all tell he is not doing well. But how does one console a grieving soldier that doesn’t want to be consoled?

Soap opens his mouth to say something, anything. He can’t stand his friend being in so much pain and he wants to know if there is something that he can do. But Price stops him, because Price knows how it is to grieve over someone he knows will never come back. Price knows that the feeling, how intense it may be in the moment, will eventually fade into something lighter, a feeling that is there, yet doesn’t weigh down on his chest so much.

And Simon doesn’t know, Simon doesn’t realise how much his coworkers, his friends are struggling with him. He doesn’t know how much they miss you too, how much they want you to sit on that piece of rubble when they arrive. They want you to, for your sake, for their sake, but most of all for Simon’s sake.

It is quiet when the chopper touches the ground, no one dares to get up first. No one wants to be the person to bring the bad news.

Price eventually decides that it is up to him. He is Simon’s captain after all, he was your captain after all. His eyes scan the area in front of him.

God, let you sit on that piece of rubble.

But you’re not, of course you’re not, and Price feel stupid for even allowing himself to have this bit of hope.

“Let’s go look for a body.” An order from his low voice.

Simon gets up from his seat, clinging on to the idea that it is all a big prank, a big joke, and that you are still on that piece of rubble, a payback because he bribes you into going on that mission.

It feels as if his legs are going to give out when he sees the area covered in rubble, dirt and pieces of the building you’d been in.

He needs to hold on to something, something to keep him steady while his body wants to shut down as his mind begins to flood again with the memories.

A flash grenade.

A fucking flash grenade had separated the two of you, and he should have seen it coming. He should’ve seen it happen, he should have protected you, but he didn’t. He can see the husk of the flash grenade stick out from between the debris, as if the universe is taunting him. He remembers being blinded, a loud ringing in his ears, and you were nowhere to be found. He remembers calling your name, yelling your name, screaming it, but he never got a response. He remembers that cold, sickening feeling when he tried to radio you, but he didn’t hear the radio, or you. He remembers a grenade going off near him. He remembers running there, hoping to find you, but you were never there, and he had to go back to the chopper empty handed. He remembers how the air suddenly became painful to breathe when you weren’t waiting at the chopper for him. He remembers how he had to make the choice to go back.

He remembers. He remembers. He remembers. He remembers.

A sudden wave of nausea waves over him, and he is just in time to pull up the mask and the balaclava, retching out sour vomit when it becomes too much. The guilt, the fear, the anger making their way up from his stomach.

He cleans his mouth with a sip of water. Simon can’t forget he is still a soldier, and he needs to be strong, for you, for himself. And when he feels like it is okay again, he joins the others, picking up large pieces of debris, hoping to find a sign of you, a little giveaway that you’re still very much alive and kicking.

He works hard, the desperation showing through his movements as he lifts up piece after piece. But you’re not there, all he finds is disappointment and the confirmation that his worst fear is becoming a reality. It is starting to become dark and Simon knows that they have to return back to base soon.

“Ghost.” Price calls out from the field.

“You might want to see this.”

But Simon doesn’t want to see this, because he knows that this can’t be good news. Simon knows from the tone and voice of his captain that if they have found you, you’re not alive.

His steps feel heavy, as if concrete is tied to his feet while he makes his way over to Price, stopping in his tracks when he sees your dog tags and the ball chain wrapped around his hand. The look in Price’s face tells him enough. They have found your dog tags, but not you.

You’re not coming home with him.

No, no, no. This couldn’t be, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You had to come home with him. At this point it was no longer about you being alive, it was about you coming home. He wanted, no he needed to see your pretty face one more time, he wanted to tell you that he loved you one more time.

Simon made his way over to Price, he needed to see if they were really your dog tags. They had to be someone else’s, they shouldn’t be yours, they couldn’t be yours. Dear God, anyone’s but yours.

They were yours.

Of course they were yours. He recognized them from afar, his vision getting blurry from the tears when he looked at the shiny metal. His mind was racing and he couldn’t think.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t think.

You had to be here, you just had to be. He dropped to his knees, ignoring the stinging pain of the glass shards on the floor. Raking his hands through the debris, tossing away concrete, stones, glass, everything to try and find you.

The leather on his gloves is strong, but not as strong as his love for you and it doesn’t take long for his blood to stain the broken pieces of building he was touching. He had to find you.

You had to come home to him, you just had to.

He can feel a hand on his shoulder but Simon ignores it. He just needs a little longer, he just needs a few more minutes.

“Simon.” The low bass in Price’s voice makes it impossible to ignore him. “We need to go back.”

“No.”

“It’s an order.”

It breaks Price, seeing his best soldier suffer like this. And Price himself doesn’t want to think about your fate. He hopes you’re still buried under all that rubble and debris, he prays that your dead body isn’t taken by the enemy, because he too knows how disgusting men can be.

“We have to go back.” Price usually doesn’t repeat himself, but he’ll make an exception, just his once.

Simon gets up from his knees, knowing that if he leaves now, he has to accept your fate, his fate, the fate of the relationship the two of you had.

“But.” Simon tries to protest.

“Don’t.” Price sighs. “It won’t get easier over time. Rip off the bandage, boy.”

Simons knows it is for the best, but by God did it hurt, he didn’t want to leave you, he didn’t want your status to be changed to Killed In Action, no he wanted you to be Missing In Action until the two of you reconnected again in the afterlife.

Simon holds out his hand, wanting to hold your dog tags. The only thing he is bringing home today.

He holds them the whole flight in the chopper, this thumb caressing the metal, memorizing the way your name is marked on the cold metal. He brings them to his lips, kissing them through the balaclava, hoping that you’ll feel his kiss in the afterlife.

Simon, Price, Soap, Gaz, they all know this can’t go on any longer, they all know this is breaking Simon, the infamous Ghost crumbling down at the loss of his beloved.

“A word.” Price doesn’t waste any time when they’re back to base.

“I know.” Simon sounds defeated as he follows him into an empty briefing room.

“This can’t go on like this, Simon.”

“I know, just.” Simon doesn’t want to talk, but he has to. “Just let me stay on base until the funeral is over.”

An empty casket.

Price would’ve denied anyone else, he would’ve told anyone else that the army wasn’t a babysitter, but he couldn’t deny the broken soul in front of him. He couldn’t risk losing his best soldier because he had sent him home too early.

“Of course.” Price finally answers. “But I want you to go to therapy when you’re on leave.”

Therapy. Simon finds it a filthy word. Because therapy would mean that something is wrong with him, and the only thing wrong is your death.

“I promise.” You would’ve wanted it for him.

Price had never expected Simon to agree so quickly, but he is glad Simon doesn’t put up much of a fight, although it worries him slightly.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Price warns him.

A faint smile forms on Simons lips. “The dumbest thing I ever did was bringi-“

“Stop.” Another order from Price. “You’re beating yourself up.”

“But it is my fault!”

Silence, because the both of them know that you still would’ve been alive if Simon hadn’t begged you to come with him. The both of them know that you would still be alive if you wouldn’t have gone on that mission. But Price could never tell Simon that, he could never bring his best soldier down even more.

“Get some rest.” Price orders. “I’ll make sure that.. that..” He struggles to find the words, but it’s clear what he means. He will make sure that you’re put to rest as soon as possible. Your empty casket into the ground, your dog tags the only evidence that you ever existed.

It is the worst day of Simon’s life. The flowers, the suit he is wearing, the people surrounding them. He had dreamed of the day this would happen, but you wouldn’t be gone, you’d be getting ready to marry him, and by God, every time he thinks his heart is ripped out of his chest, the claws of life dig deeper and rip out the remaining pieces of his love. And he catches himself looking for you, even though he knows you won’t arrive.

But his love for you is still inside of him, and he carries you wherever he goes.

Simon knows he has to speak, his final act of love towards you. You deserve it, even though your body is not here, you deserve to get a proper burial. But it’s hard, too hard. The worst part of that love is that he remembers it, walking around everyday thinking that he is going to die in the universe that you loved him in.

He clears his throat, heads snapping into his direction as he tries to brace himself. It’s easier to treat this as a mission. Saying what he needs to say, keep his voice from breaking and getting out.

His eyes shift to the empty casket on the left, and without his permission his vision starts to get blurry and his goddamn heart starts to ache again. God, God, God. How he wished the two of you could’ve met as kids, because he knew you would’ve loved the softer version of him.

Simon looks down at the paper before him, the little speech he wrote to honour you, but he can’t read it through his tears, so he has to speak the words from his heart.

“Since you happened, I’ve never been the same.” Off to a great start.

“I don’t know what’s more tragic, that I keep looking for you wherever I go. Or that you’re never there, and I promise you, someday, somewhere, we’ll be together again.” Fuck, he can’t keep his voice from breaking.

“Whiskey was easier to swallow than the fact that you aren’t coming back.” He is becoming a mess, for all to see. His feelings on display as if it were in a museum. “I’ve learned that I can drink too much and forget the night before. But I’ve learned I can’t drink enough to forget the people I’ve loved and lost.”

A sob interrupts his speech.

“I don’t know what to say to you, except that it tore the heart out of my body saying goodbye to you.”

He has to get out, he needs to breathe fresh air, he wants the grief in him to be replaced by the scent of fresh flowers and sunshine. Who knew losing his lover could turn a hardened soldier into a sobbing mess?

Someone hugs him, but he is too far gone to even register it. Those same arms, same hands guide him to his seat, and his mind is empty when he listens to the rest of the wake.

And now he is sitting in a comfortable chair, a therapist in front of him. Simon still doesn’t know why he accepted it. After all, he still believes that he should suffer from what he has done to you. If you didn’t deserve to live, why would he?

He filters out her voice as he concentrates to the ticking noise of the clock. These appointments feel like a waste of his time. But so does rotting in bed, so he keeps telling himself you would’ve wanted this for him, for him to seek the help he doesn’t feel he deserves.

71 days. The last time he saw you was 71 days. And for those 71 days he feels like an empty shell of an human. And the worst part? Your shirts no longer smell like you, he had to throw out your leftovers, the mold covering the food you had prepared, but he had tried to cling on to it for as long as he could.

71 days, and your voice is a mere memory, it sounds different on the video’s he has from you, and he is ashamed that he can’t remember the real sound anymore.

What would you think of him? God he hopes you can’t see him from the afterlife like this, a goddamn mess, the last time he took a shower must’ve been a week ago, and if he doesn’t go to his therapy session, all he does is, well, nothing. The time he has on this earth is waisted by staring at the wall, hours on end. Just staring, and when his mind is done beating him up for making the mistake of asking you to go on that mission with him, it’s just turned off.

A waste of space, a waste of oxygen, a waste of everything. A pathetic excuse of a human being.

“Simon.” The voice of his therapist snaps him out of it. “Are you okay? I’ve been talking to you for minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He grumbles.

She doesn’t believe him, he can feel it, and he can’t blame her, after all, most sessions are filled with an awkward silence, he doesn’t want to talk, and she learned that asking her questions gets her nowhere.

His mind wanders to your funeral again, how the empty casket is haunting him, how the nightmares about you being cold, dead and alone are haunting him, how even when he sleeps, he finds no peace from his mistake.

He can hear his therapist sigh, her long nails tapping on the clipboard, and it’s fucking annoying. He wants to tell her about the flashbacks, how he keeps relieving the mission, how he keeps replaying the last minute with you, he wants to, but he can’t. It is his secret, his punishment.

His therapist clears her throat. “Well, our time is up. Is there anything you’d like to discuss before we call it quits?”

“No.”

“Alright, see you again next week then, same time.”

With a scoff he gets up from the chair, ready to go home to embrace the darkness of his bed again.

The days are starting to look the same, they melt together in a blur of grief.

He lays in bed, unless he really has to get out. A quick visit to the bathroom and back to bed he goes. When he is unable to ignore his rumbling stomach, he orders some takeaway, just to eat it on the couch, the empty cartons starting to flood the place. But he doesn’t care, not in the slightest, he doesn’t care when he can see the mold on the little pieces of food left in the pizza box.

He doesn’t care when he can smell himself whenever he gets into the bedroom again, he doesn’t care when he rewatches the same show for the fifth time, not a care in the world when his screentime is over sixteen hours a day. He doesn’t care when he stops answering texts, he doesn’t care when calls are met with a loud sigh, annoyed that they’re interrupting the game he was playing.

Simon despises the days he has to go to therapy, it is the only day in the week where he has to get up, shower, wash his hair and brush his teeth. It is the only day of the week where the rotten air from home is replaced by fresh outside air, and he hates it, the comfort of his home being ripped away, just like you got ripped away.

His legs bounces while he sits in the waiting room, he still feels as if he doesn’t belong to therapy, while he knows that there is something wrong, he doesn’t want to admit it, he doesn’t want to accept the help.

He frowns when he gets called in by someone else than his usual therapist, but he goes in anyway.

“Where is she?” He asks bluntly as he goes to sit down in the same comfortable chair he always sit in.

“Who?”

“My usual therapist.”

The woman in front of him frowns. “She didn’t feel as if she was booking process with you, so she asked me to take over. Didn’t she tell you?”

Simon can only shrug, truth be told, he never paid enough attention to even remember anything from those sessions. “Could be.”

Her lips press together until they are a faint line and Simon can tell he doesn’t like her one bit.

“Let me introduce myself.” She continues. “My name is Sarah, and I’m…” He zones out within seconds, pushing her voice to the background.

“Simon!” She has a fucking sharp voice.

“What.”

“I’m talking to you.”

Simon raises an eyebrow, this is the first time a therapist has been this direct to him. “Right.” He mumbles. “Continue.”

“Did you get anything I just said?” Sarah asks him.

“Well, your name is Sarah, and..” His voice dies out. “That’s all.” He adds with a sheepish tone.

“Why are you here, Simon?” She asks him, as she holds the clipboard to her chest.

Because my captain asked me to.

But he stays silent, just shrugging as she asks him that question.

“Do you even want to be here?”

Simon frowns at the second question, of course he doesn’t want to be here. “No.”

“Then why bother coming anyway?”

Because you would’ve been so disappointed in him if he didn’t at least try. But Simon knows that what he is doing isn’t even close to trying at all. It is just easier to lie to himself that he is trying.

“Because..” His voice his hoarse.

Because he wants to get rid of that feeling of guilt, that is weighing him down on his chest, the feeling that keeps him up at night, being so heavy that he worries that he’ll suffocate in the matrass if he acknowledges it. Because he wants to deal with the grief that came with losing you, because every little thing outside of the routine that he has created for himself reminds him of you. Because he wants to be happy again, but just the mere thought of it feels like a betrayal to you.

Because, because, because.

But the words leave him, just like he left you there to die by yourself, and the thought of that tightens his chest, his ribs suffocating his lungs and it feels like he can’t breathe. Short burst of air leaving his nose when he tries to wipe away the image. That familiar feeling again, a panic attack waiting in the shadows of his mind.

God not here, not now.

But Sarah doesn’t react, she doesn’t try to talk him out of it, instead she just lets it happen, observing how he handles it.

His hands pressing against his temples. He doesn’t want to think about you, about leaving you, he doesn’t want to be confronted by his mistake.

Deep breath in through your mouth, exhaling out your nose.

He remembers the advice you gave him, you’d walked in on him having one as he sat down on the shower floor. He tries to remember your voice, your face when you said it to him. But he can’t. Fuck. He can’t.

He loves you, so why is he forgetting it? Why is your face becoming a blur. Why is your voice different in every memory.

Deep breath in through your mouth, exhaling out your nose.

The panic dies out after a few deep breaths, guilt popping up like the mushrooms do around autumn.

“Why are you here, Simon?” Sarah repeats the question.

“Because I can’t live like this anymore.”

“Like what?”

A scowl forms on his face, he hates feeling this vulnerable, it makes him feel weak and he still feels as if he should overcome this with ease. “Living in my own filth because I can’t be bothered to actually live.”

“Why can’t you be bothered to actually live, Simon?”

For fuck sakes, he hates how many questions she is asking, he hates how it forces him to think about things he doesn’t want to think about, things he has crammed away in the shadows of his mind.

“Because I don’t deserve it!” His voice is louder than he wanted it to be, but part of him hopes it scares her off, that it makes her stop asking questions.

But it doesn’t, Sarah doesn’t bat an eye.

“Why do you feel as if you don’t deserve to live?”

Because you didn’t get to live.

“Because I killed her, I begged her to come with me on a mission that killed her. I am the reason she is no longer walking on this earth. She said no the first time and I’m a selfish asshole for taking her with me!” God it feels good to get that off his chest.

Sarah stays silent, and the silence causes his words to float in the air.

“She said yes herself, right?” Sarah eventually says. “Why are you holding yourself accountable for that?”

“Because she said no the first time. And I bribed her with doing the dishes.” He spat out.

God he hated how Sarah would let his answers linger in the air, it meant he had to think, think about what happened, think about his answers, think about how actions, how it affected everything.

How he would never give himself peace.

“Because I keep wondering how life would’ve been if I had accepted her first no, I wonder how I would be if she wouldn’t have gone with me. Because. I. I. I.” Simon starts to stutter, the words flooding out him, things he had kept hidden to rot inside of him.

“Because I know that she would’ve been alive if it wasn’t for me.” A tiny voice for a big soldier.

“You can’t change what happened, Simon.”

Of course he can’t! Fuck, it annoys him. “I know.” He grits his teeth.

“Do you think she would want you to live like this?”

Fuck, a cold sensation running over him, his stomach feels as if it is doing summersaults.

“No, no, I don’t think so.” He eventually admits. Of course not, you would only want the best for him, you would’ve wanted him to move on, to make something out of his life. Oh God, you were always so sweet, so innocent, and he, he took you away from this world.

That same feeling in his chest again, he presses his eyes shut.

The image of that fucking flash grenade sticking out of the debris again. Haunting him, taunting him.

As the tightness in his chest gets worse, he can’t stop the hot tears falling down.

Fucking weak.

“Simon.”

“Simon?”

“Simon!”

Sarah’s voice brings him back to reality, but not just enough, flashbacks running through his mind while he tries to feel the fabric of the chair under his fingertips.

“Tell me what is happening, Simon.”

Short, quick breaths, the tightening in his chest becoming worse, and worse.

“Simon? Tell me what you’re seeing, right now.”

He wants to open his eyes, he wants it to stop, but this is the clearest he has seen you in weeks. He doesn’t want to lose this, even though it hurt like something he has never felt before. He wants it to stop, but he doesn’t want it to end.

“The mission.” He mutters.

Silence again. He hates how Sarah lets him struggle with his emotions, his feelings, and he wants his old therapist back, whatshername, who would fill up the silence so he wouldn’t have to.

“I keep replaying the mission in my head.” Simon adds.

“Tell me.” Sarah commands. “Walk me through what is happening.”

“It always starts the same.” He begins. “Always.”

“How does it start?”

“We’re waiting for the chopper. We’re both wearing a bulletproof vest, and I make sure hers is safe. I tug on it a little, a few times actually. I would brush the skin of her cheeks with my knuckles.” It is a whisper, but it is a start.

“And then we move to the chopper, she is sitting next to me, and all I see is her beauty. It was supposed to be an easy mission and she is talking, talking about how she will let me do all the dishes she can find, she is teasing me about having to wear an apron while I’m doing the dishes.” His breathing is starting to get more controlled.

“It was supposed to be an abandoned area.” Simon continues, his hands gripping the armrest of the chair. “I let my guard down, we were joking too much, laughing too hard. The enemy must’ve heard us. And then, then, then.”

“Stop.” Sarah says. “Put the film on hold, and tell me what you see.”

“I see her, the sun high on the sky, a smile on her face, not a worry in her eyes. And then I spot the flash grenade. And I want to warn her, but it’s too late.” Simons starts.

“Okay.” No it’s not okay.

“Can you put yourself in the image?”

“What?”

“Put yourself in the situation, standing alongside yourself and her.”

Silence again.

“Can you do it, Simon?”

“Yeah.” He mutters, feeling awkward, but he can, standing next to himself and next to you.

“Is there anything you’d like to say to her?”

His heart starts to race again. Yes, yes, yes! There are so many things he would like to say to you, so many things that he wants you to hear, but that will never reach you.

“I. I. I want to tell that I’m so, so sorry.” He begins. “I want to say that I should’ve listened to her, that if I could do it all over again, I would do it differently.”

He holds back a sob.

“I want to tell her that I will always love her, that she will always be a part of me, no matter what happens, no matter how old I grow, no matter who comes in to my life, she will always matter.” The raw words leave his lips, dragging the heavy feeling from his heart with them, leaving him able to breathe for the first time in months.

“Can you hug her?”

What a stupid question. But he can, and he does, he presses his eyes shut and hugs you, and although it is in his imagination, it feels real, for him it is real. The version of you that got one more hug, tells him that he is forgiven, and it brings a little bit of peace to him.

Simon finally opens his eyes again. “God.” He breathes.

“How does that feel?” Sarah asks.

“Better.” He admits.

“Good.” Is that a smile on her lips?

“Are you going to be able to handle being alone?” Sarah breaks the silence.

“Yeah.” And for the first time it does feel like he is able to handle being alone. For the first time he wants to go outside, to breathe the fresh air. Hell, he even wants to grab the bin and clean the house.

He wants to live again.

243 days.

God it has been 243 days. And while his grief for you is a token of the love he holds for you, life is moving on, Simon is moving on. He no longer spends his days and nights in his bed, instead he goes out, out in the open, out to visit a coffee shop, a bookstore, the park.

He treats life as if he had died and had begged God for a second chance, taking in every detail of the beauty of life.

243 days. He has missed your birthday, you have missed his. But don’t worry, he took a cupcake to your empty grave and sang for you. You still visit him in his dreams, and while he still wakes up missing you, longing for you in his bed, he is grateful to have you visit him even if it is through his nightmares and dreams.

He no longer has therapy sessions with Sarah, although they have helped him a whole lot, he is okay by himself, the flashbacks no longer taunt him and when this mind wanders back to that day, he can put himself back in the narrative, telling you that he loves you, that he wishes life could have been different.

Simon even went back to work, not to his full extend yet, that is a little too much, just yet. But he is getting there, and he hopes that you’re proud of him.

The grieving has become easier over time, and with it came a little bit of guilt, for the longest time it felt like he was forgetting you.

But he is not. You’ll always have a spot in his heart, he can never really forget you. Although he can only remember your face from the pictures and video’s, he remembers you. Although your voice isn’t the same in every dream, flashback or video, he still remembers you. You left your mark on his heart and he won’t get rid of it.

Simon takes in the ambiance of the little coffeeshop that he is in, waiting for his date to arrive. Sophie had been a nice girl, she isn’t you, obviously she isn’t you, and it took him a few weeks to get used to it. He stopped looking for you in her eyes, and while she will never leave such a mark on him as you did, she is pretty amazing. Simon told her upfront about you, how you always be a part of his life, through his work, through the apartment he shared with you, through him. And Sophie was okay with that, Sophie had no intention to replace you, no Sophie knew that she could live alongside Simon’s love for you.

A smile breaks out on his face when he spots here, a little wave following quick.

“There you are!” Happiness in his voice.

“Yeah, sorry I’m late.” You were never late.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m glad you’re here.” She kisses him on his cheek after those words.

And it took him a while, but he can smile after the small gesture, it no longer feels like a betrayal towards you, after all, he would’ve wanted you to move on too, it is only fair that he allows himself the same.

His eyes soften when he smiles at her, it was like a tug at his heart strings that he had long ago thought were cut.

“Going back to the taskforce.” Simon eventually says.

That piques her interest. “For long?”

“Nah, it’s for a birthday party.” Simon shrugs.

A little bit of an awkward air lingers around the both of them, neither of them sure what to say next. Sophie wants to ask if she can come, but she respects his space too much, she respects the walls around him too much to just barge in and demand he takes them down. Besides, the base is the only place where she hasn’t stepped foot in to replace you.

On the other side of the table is Simon, wanting to invite you, but worried that he is just using her to drive out the memories of you, worried that his teammates will think that he is getting over you way too quick. Worried that people will judge the level of love he has for you.

“So,” Simon clears his throat. “It’s Soap’s birthday, and we’re celebrating tomorrow evening.”

“And I know we haven’t been dating for long, but maybe, maybe you’d like to come?”

A deep breath. No reaction.

“Yes.” Sophie smiles while she talks. “Yes, I would like that. I’ve heard a lot about them, can’t wait to finally meet them.”

A smile tugs around his lips. “Good, good.”

“So, I’ll pick you up around 7ish, and I’ll drive us to base. Just wear something casual, they’re soldiers, so don’t expect anything too fancy.”

Even after 243 days he can’t help but feeling like a traitor, inviting another woman to the base the two of you used to serve at.

Sophie smiles at him, her worries melting away at his relaxed demeanour.

“8ish.” She repeats. “I’ll make sure to be casually dressed.” She presses a kiss on his cheek again. “I have to get back to my work, but it was nice to see you in my lunchbreak.”

Simon lets out a sigh when he is all alone in the coffeeshop again. Oh how life went different than he had hoped, but he was content. His eyes take in the scenery once more.

You would have loved it here.

He puts his car into park while he waited for Sophie to get out of her apartment, his leg bouncing against the steering wheel, he could feel himself getting nervous, as if he would bring Sophie in to your territory. As if he would take away the final thing on this mortal earth that was only yours. Simon tried to push those thoughts away when he saw Sophie leave her house, a bright smile on her face. He could see that she had tried to dress casual, but it was a little too perfect to be casual, and it warmed his heart.

She kissed him when she entered his car. It was endearing to him, all feelings of guilt being pushed to the side when his lips touched hers.

“You look amazing.” He complimented her. A soft blush forming on her face. Her hand rested on his knee when he started the drive. It was quiet and he still wasn’t used to it. You, his teammates, his captain, the lot of you would always tease him about his bad driving skills. But not Sophie, she was missing out on the inside joke.

“It can be quite rowdy on base.” Simon warned her.

“That’s okay.” She said with a faint smile.

“Good, good.” He muttered.

A soft squeeze on his knee, and a smile formed on his lips.

Simon tried to focus on the road, pushing away every single thought inside of his mind. He shouldn’t feel guilty for moving on, he shouldn’t feel guilty for bringing his new girlfriend to his base. He shouldn’t be so nervous about his teammates meeting Sophie.

He shouldn’t. But he was.

A deep breath emerged from his lips when he parked the car on the base, taking in the atmosphere.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Ready.” She nodded.

When he exited the car, he took in his base, the memories of you flooding in again. Sophies hand in his shook him out of it, and he smiled at her.

He let in the commotion, the rowdy, loud cheering happening all around.

“Simon!” Price calling out over the parking lot. “We have something you should see.”

244 days.

You finally can remember it all. How Simon begged you to come with him on this mission, something he could’ve done by himself easily, but he tried to sweettalk you, bribe you, just anything so he wouldn’t have to go alone.

And you fell for it. How could you not? After all, he promised you he’d do the dishes, and you hated doing the dishes.

You remember Simon double checking your gear, softly tugging on the bulletproof vest to make sure that it was safe and secure. He always made sure you were safe and secure, no matter what happened, Simon had made it clear that you were his number one priority. You, and you alone.

The moment of eye contact that follows after always makes your heart flutter, the little lines next to his eyes when his lips tug to a smile, it is enough to make your stomach do a million summersaults. The moment you smile, and the little apples of your cheeks start to rise, he brushes his knuckles against the sensitive skin on your face. The callouses on his knuckles was something that you always enjoyed feeling, a little routine before a mission. Something you always held dear.

It didn’t matter that he was wearing his mask on the chopper flight to the area you had to scout. You could see in his eyes how much he was smiling every time you added something on the list of dishes, the fine lines around his eyes, the sparkle in his eyes.

A gasp. “I’ll let you even wash the food dish of the cat.”

“Lovie, we don’t have a cat.” His voice sounds amused.

“Nuh uh, I’ve been feeding the strays that live just outside the base.” You protest.

“Fine, fine, fine.” It isn’t even a real protest, Simon would do anything to make you happy.

“AND.” Your voice sounds happy, as if you just got the best idea ever known to man. “You have to wear an apron.”

“An apron?”

“Yeah, I still have a pink one.”

“Fine.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, but I’m wearing nothing underneath it.” Simon snickers.

“Deal!”

“And, you can only look but you can’t touch.” He adds.

“But that’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, lovie.”

Life indeed wasn’t fair.

Because the next thing you remember is a white flash, ringing in your ears and a lot of stumbling. A lot of pain when you tumbled down the stairs. You can remember Simon calling for you, screaming your name and you want to react, but your body doesn't allow you to.

Another loud noise, and you realise that a grenade must’ve gone off when you’re getting covered by debris.

It is dark when you wake up again, the sensation of someone tugging on your ankles is waking you up, your body hurts and you’re disorientated, your eyes flutter as you try to stay awake, as you try to grasp what has happened. The men towering over you speak a language you don’t understand, and frankly, there is nothing you understand at the moment.

Who are you? And why are you here?

One of the men pulls you up, his hands under your armpits as he drags you away, your skin is grey from the dust and debris and as your eyes finally focus you can see the fear in the eyes of the people around you.

You desperately try to remember, your brain knows there is something hidden inside, something that would explain all of it, but you can’t. You can’t seem to find the key to the door inside of you that hold all the information you need.

Your dog tags get caught on a pole of metal sticking out of the rubble, and you groan a little when it cuts off your airflow, even if it is for a brief moment. Neither you or the man carrying you realise how important those dog tags are. But of you are just focussed on getting you out of there.

Another groan when the ground gets more uneven, sharp pain being unbearable with every bump. You try so, so, so hard to stay away, but your body tries to protect you against the pain, and before you know it your eyes start to roll back, and it gets dark again.

When you wake up again, you’re in a bed, stripped of your belongings, but a variety of bandages around your limbs, a woman speaks to you in a hushed tone, but you can’t understand the language they’re speaking. A soft groan leaves your lips as you try to speak, but your throat is dry and everything hurts.

Later, you learn that you’re taken in by the local villagers, who have been tormented by the war for the longest time. The same war you and Simon participated in, the same war where you were convinced you were on the right side, only to learn that there are only losers when it comes to war.

As the universe continues your injuries start to heal, and while you still don’t speak a word of their language, the villagers are nice to you, almost as if caring for you is just what they need to take their mind of the running war in their area. You know something is missing, you can’t remember your name, age, your life, Simon. Nothing. Not an ounce of recognition when they show you your torn up uniform. Not an ounce of recognition when you hold up a mirror in front of your face.

Not an ounce of recognition when the local men are shouting against each other, and while you can’t make out what they’re saying, you know it is about you, the way they point and glare, the way they call you a fucking filthy Brit. The other half of the group of men is a lot more quiet, they plead, and you can only imagine it is for your life, yet you do not fear for it.

What is a life worth if you can’t remember it?

But they let you live, and while you’re not sure why, you end up being thankful for it. At night you always end up dreaming about the same things, it is almost like clockwork, either you dream about yourself, walking around a maze, which seems to be without end, a skull mask in the middle of the maze. You always, always wake up whenever you find the mask.

The other dreams is about a faceless man, tugging on the bulletproof vest you wore when you were found, his knuckles brushing against the apples of your cheeks. He tries to shield you before the white flash goes off, but your dreams never reveal his face to you.

One time they dragged you back to the area where they had found you, a black chopper had landed nearby and you could make out that they wanted to know if the men rummaging the area seemed familiar to you.

But they didn’t. Four tall men, and while they wore the same uniform as you, none of them rang a bell inside your mind. You shook your head, implying you didn’t know them, no matter the matching uniforms. Not even the heartbroken screams from the masked man could crack open your memories.

Looking back, when the dreams started to come, you knew you recognized the mask one of them was wearing, it was the exact same as you would always find in the maze, but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember the face beneath it.

Slowly, but surely small glimpses of your life started to seep into your mind again, droplets of memories coming back. The smell of oatmeal brought a snippet of your childhood back, the memories of it being breakfast, and secretly feeding a spoonful to the dog.

With every little dot you could connect to your former, came an explanation to the people around you, with a lot of gestures, and some drawing, you could get your point across.

The smell of lavender brought you back to the house of your grandma, the strong scent always lingered in her house, and if you pressed your eyes shut and let the sun settle down on your skin, you could go back to that time.

While you peel off the skin of an orange you’re hit with a new memory, your breath hitching in your throat as your mind slowly makes the memory clear. You’re peeling an orange, a large hand holding on to your thigh as you peel the fruit. “Thanks lovie.” The gruff voice sounds so clear when you remember it, as if he is in the room with you and you know that it is someone important to you, as your body warmed up when you remember his voice.

But you just remember his voice, and not his name.

It would frustrate the living shit out of you, knowing that there is so much more memories hidden away in you, and you just can’t seem to remember them. You know that there is so much more to you, yet you’re unable to discover your own secrets.

When you’re stargazing, late at night, a new memory pops up, the masked man laying next to you in the grass, while the both of you look up at the stars, in the corner of your eye you can see him takes his mask off, the balaclava being pulled up to his nose, before he leans over and presses a kiss on your lips.

The realisation dawns on you, and while you can’t remember his name, it is clear that he is important for you, that you are important to him, and a cold feeling comes over you when you realise you let him slip between your fingers just because you didn’t recognize him. A knot in your chest as you try to remember who he is, who you are, why you were wearing the uniform. Panic taking over when your mind can’t answer your questions. The knot in your chest spreads through your body and soon you find yourself unable to breathe. Short, desperate burst in which you try to suck in as many air as you can.

Deep breath in through your mouth, exhaling out your nose.

Fuck.

You remember, you remember walking in on him having a panic attack, you remember kneeling down to him, telling him to take a deep breathe in through his mouth, exhaling out his nose. You remember. You remember walking in on Simon.

Simon.

A loud sob leaves your mouth and your hand claws at your chest as you remember. You remember all the kisses, the three squeezes on your shoulder, or your bicep when he couldn’t tell you he loved you but still wanted you to know, you remember all the late evenings and lazy mornings.

Oh you finally remember.

Your loud sobs wake up the people who had cared for you, they’re worried and you can’t yet explain if the tears are from happiness or agony. But it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter because you finally remember. You could be described as hysterical when you point to your old uniform, back to yourself, trying to tell them that you DO remember, that you DO know who you are.

And never had you imagined how easy it would be to go back to your old life. You’d learn that you would be considered missing and killed in action for more than eight months now.

Eight months. You had missed 244 days of Simon’s life, and he had missed those days in yours.

The ambassy was kind enough to listen to your story, your fingerprints confirming your identity. K.I.A flashing the screen when they pull up your information. And you want nothing more than to go home, to feel safe in his embrace again. You’re not allowed to call him, since the two of you aren’t married he isn’t your legal contact person, and you have to wait, but you’ve waited 244 days, how much more will a few more hours hurt?

God, how you have missed him, with the returning memories, the feeling of longing for him also came back, and right now the only thing you wanted in life was to hold him again, to feel him again, to be his again.

The rest of the trip goes by fast, your mind can barely cope with the returned memories, let alone process what is happening when they put you back on a plane to your base, but you can feel the excitement, the love, oh you can feel it all.

Just like you can feel the dread seep into your bones when you see him, holding another woman’s hand.

Your old teammates cheer when they see you, and you’re overwhelmed by the familiar feeling washing over you, all the successful mission you’ve celebrated with them, all the losses you have encountered and overcome with them. They’re your family and you’re so grateful to see them again.

But someone is missing.

Price drags him along, and your heart stops when you see him. Simon.

Your smile fading away when you see him holding hands with someone else, a woman you’ve never seen before. Fuck.

He has moved on and you can’t blame him. You’ve been gone for more than eight months, and you’re so, so, so proud that he has overcome this. You’re proud that he didn’t let himself rot away, give up on life. But by God, does it hurt.

His eyes widen, pupils dilate when he spots you, long strides to meet you as soon as possible and you can see his hand letting go of hers, but she holds on, even if that means that he kind of drags her along.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

She finally let go off his hand.

Two.

One final steps and his lips crash on yours, kissing you with an intensity you’ve never felt from him before. His hands all over your face, fingers entangled in your hair, his lips hungry for a taste of you, a taste he thought was long forgotten, but he now remembers and so desperately craves. It’s a goddamn messy kiss, and it feels as if the both of you are fifteen again, and this is your first kiss ever, but you don’t mind, you would rather have fifteen million of these kisses, than never kiss him again.

Eventually he has to pull back, a reminder for the both of you to breathe. He presses his forehead against yours.

“I even washed the cat dishes.” A soft whisper and enough to break to ice, to make you smile again as you wrap your arms around him, the woman behind him catching your eyes. God, she looks miserable, but you can’t blame her.

Simon follows your gaze, letting go off you, almost as if he has been caught doing something bad. His throat feels dry as he looks from you to Sophie, he loves both these woman, but the way he loves them is different. The atmosphere in the air shifts, and a certain amount of awkwardness fills the air, the joy surrounding you dying down quick.

Price clears his throat. “I’m sure you all have a lot of catching up to do. The briefing rooms are empty.” Not a very subtle hint, but all three of you get it. Simon is the first to move, taking your hands in his, holding on tight, afraid he will lose you again if you slip between his fingers. As the three of you walk towards a briefing room you look towards your right, the woman next you has her head bowed down and you can see a mix of emotions on her face. You want to reach out, say something to her, but what can you possible say to her to make this easier?

The tension is thick in the air when you reach the briefing room. “Can I have a word with you, Simon?” Sophie asks, it is the first time you’ve heard her voice, and she sounds sweet. Simons eyes shift to you. “In private.” She adds, that same sweet voice now holding a sharp tone.

His eyes meet yours again, almost as if he is asking you for permission, and you nod. They both go into the briefing room next to the one you’re in, and you sit down on a chair, being as close as possible to the wall, you know you shouldn’t eaves drop, but you need to know what they are discussing.

“Listen.” It’s Simons voice. “I never thought this would happen, Sophie.”

Sophie.

It’s a lovely name, she seems lovely, the whole situation is just fucked.

“No one thought this would happen, but what matters is what you’re going to do, Simon.”

You perk up, ear pressed against the wall, hoping to God you can make out what he will answer. It stays quiet and all you can hear is your own heartbeat thumping in your ears.

And in the other room Simon doesn’t know what to do, what to say, he stares at the woman in front of him, knowing full well that the love of his life is sitting in the room next to them.

Truth be told, he had loved Sophie, he wouldn’t have been with here if he didn’t. But his love for Sophie always was paired with the loss of you, he knew he wouldn’t never loved her the way he loves her now if you never went on that mission with him. He knows that the love he felt for her was his heart trying to replace you.

“I..” But it is hard for him to say it, it is hard to break a person while only thirty minutes ago the both of them were on their way to meet his teammates.

“You’re choosing her?” Sophie’s voice is far from amused.

“Yes.” Simons begins, nervously fidgeting with his hands. “But you have to understand, it’s not an easy thing for me to do.”

“It’s not easy for you to do?” Sophie’s words are laced with venom, and you can understand why. You’re the ghost of his past, while she should have been the ghost of his future, and there you were, suddenly showing up, taking away the relationship she thought she had.

“Do you have ANY idea how this is for me?” Sophie continued. “I’ve BEEN there for you, Simon! I’ve sat with you while you cried about her, I’ve let you tell countless stories about her.”

“I know, and I’m so-“

“I’m not done yet.” The words are spat out. “I’ve been to her fucking empty grave! Asking for fucking permission to be with you! I’ve sat there, telling her how I’ll never replace her, but live alongside her fucking ghost. And now you just toss me to the side as a fucking used up doll?”

Simon is taken aback by the, for him, sudden outburst. He had been so caught up with his own healing process, his own grieving, that the thought of it weighing down other people never occurred to him. “You went to her grave?”

“Yes! I’ve learned how to fit myself inside her shadow, I’ve seen you look disappointed whenever I was a little late, or when I would kick out my shoes at the door, I’ve seen you compare me to her the whole goddamn time and this whole relationship I’ve been competing with someone we both thought was dead!”

“I didn’t knew you felt this way.”

“Because you never fucking asked, Simon, because it has always been about you and her and me, and never just about you and me.”

“That’s not true.” He protests. “Maybe in the beginning, but I’ve learned to love you for you.”

“Then why are you looking at her like that, huh?”

“Because.” Simon takes a deep breath, he knows he has to rip off the bandage, it isn’t fair for Sophie to continue this, he knows where his heart lies, and while it was with Sophie, the moment you came back into the picture, the floodgates within his heart had been opened and his love for you is pouring out. “Because it will always be her.”

“I don’t blame you Simon.” Sophie’s voice starts to crack. “But sometimes I wish we never met each other.”

“Don’t say that. You’re an amazing person, pretty, smart.”

“Oh cut the bullshit.” Sophie hisses. “I’m all that, yet I’m not enough for you to choose me. I helped you grieve over someone who would always be your number one choice. I had been warned by my friends and I so desperately wanted you to be different. But I guess you are just a simple man after all.”

And those words stung Simon, more than he would ever realise, he hated how much of a cliché he had become. Yes he had thought he was fully over you, and yes he had thought he could’ve moved on, but now that he had to choose between Sophie and you, it was clear as day who he loved more.

“I wish I could’ve been something more.” Sophie’s words are a soft whisper.

“And for someone else you will be.”

After that there is just silence, two ex-lovers looking at each other. One over the moon because his lost lover returned to him. The other heartbroken after she realised he never fully choose her.

“Do you want me to bring you home?” Simon asks, realizing he had been her ride.

“No. I’d rather walk.”

“Don’t be stubborn, let me either bring you home or pay for your cab.”

“I’ll fucking manage, Simon. I don’t need your pity after you took out my heart and stomped on it.”

Sophie is still pissed, but neither you or Simon can blame her for it, and part of you wished things could’ve been different, part of you wished you had died that day, that he could’ve fully moved on from you. But that part is small, tiny and crumbled up hiding in your brain as you feel guilty.

You can hear someone stomp past the door of the room you’re sitting in, and the door slowly creaks before you see Sophie. It’s an awkward silence, you’ve clearly been caught listening to them, and you can see the light reflecting the tears on her cheeks.

“No matter how mad I am at Simon.” Sophie begins, and you brace yourself for an outburst. “It isn’t your fault.”

You had expected her to be angry at you too, but she isn’t.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter. “You never deserved any of this.”

A soft smile breaks out on Sophie’s face. “I didn’t.” She agrees. “But I’ve learned some things about myself, and when the sadness is over that will be worth something.”

You smile back at her, in another life the two of you could’ve been friends, but not here, not in this life. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For keeping him sane.”

“It wasn’t easy.”

“He isn’t easy.”

Sophie laughs and a bit of the tension melts away between the two of you.

“Just.. Simon is a good guy, no matter how much I wanted to strangle him.” Sophie starts. “But he cares about you, a lot, more than he can ever care about himself or someone else. And you care that much about him too, I can see it in your eyes, in his eyes. It wasn’t a coincidence that the universe brought the two of you together.”

“Thank you.” Sophie’s words are warm, and you can see why Simon had loved her. “I hope you find your Simon.”

“I will. I might even hang out on the base a little longer and get myself a colonel or something.”

The both of you can’t help but chuckle at her comment.

“I hope life will treat you well.”

“I wish you the same.”

After that she turns around and walks away, and you can’t help but stare. Sophie had handled it better than you would’ve done, and you can’t help but admire her for that.

Simon pops his head through the open door. “I’m not easy?” He snickers.

“Don’t be like that.”

He steps into the briefing room, closing the door behind him. “You’re not mad?”

“For what?”

“For dating Sophie.”

“Well, I would be lying if I said that it didn’t tear my heart out when I saw you holding her hand.” You admit. “But I’ve always told you that I wanted you to move on in case I passed away earlier than you.”

“Fair, but I can’t help but feel as if I betrayed you.”

“You would’ve betrayed me if you would’ve let yourself rot away in bed.”

You can’t help but look up as he stands before you. “I’ve missed you.” He whispers as he leans closer.

“I’ve missed you too.” You murmur back before he presses his lips against yours.

[mvltisstuff]

What about a fic where reader is a rookie cop and Athena is her training officer. She’s also dating Eddie. She gets shot in the vest so the 118 comes and takes her to the hospital so they can do X-rays to make sure she doesn’t have any broken ribs and then Eddie takes her home and makes her relax and helps her ice her massive bruise.

love. - e.d

summary: request

eddie diaz x reader

a/n: i love this idea!!

eddie sees athena walk into the firehouse, her hand on her waist and the other on the back of her neck. her face had a blank expression, and eddie has seen this look before. you know, when you’re about to tell someone shitty news. or that their life is about to be flipped upside down. the sergeant’s contained a look of pity mixed in with her own sadness as well.

flashes of y/n’s name and face, as well as the sounds of her voice came rushing over eddie. she’s new to the job, but she’s really good. having athena training her and giving her important tips was one of the best advantages you could have in the police system.

along with the courage of the job came the dangers. guns and fights and tasers. you never know what someone has hiding in their belt and where they might be headed. y/n makes the world a better place, and eddie feels nothing but proud when she shows up in her uniform.

the thought of her not coming home to him scared the living daylights out of him. he’s lost too many people, and he would lose himself if he wasn’t able to save her.

“diaz,” athena tries to start.

“where is she?” eddie spits out.

“the hospital. she got shot, but she had on the vest,” eddie sighs and rubs his face in partial relief, but also knowing that this is not best case scenario. “they’re taking her for x-rays. but she’s in good spirits.”

“she’s always in good spirits, thats why i love her,” says eddie. “god, grant, when you walked in here i thought she was going to be dead or close to it.”

“honey, i wouldn’t be able to be here if she was. she saved everyone’s life out there today. who knows what that gunman could’ve pulled.”

eddie blinks away his light tears. eddie almost refuses to let anyone see him cry, but she is his weak spot. anything that hurts her, it hurts him, too. thinking about a life without her was intolerable.

“i need to see her but,” eddie says, beginning to walk away in the middle of his shift.

“i spoke to bobby, he’s letting you out early,” athena informs. eddie thanks her, and sprints out to his car, ignoring the comments from his coworkers.

the gas pedal in his truck was almost completely weighted down. his eyes darted to each exit, taking the closest one to the hospital that had his one true love inside.

as soon as he hit the doors of the hospital, it’s almost like he forgot elevators existed. he jogged through the halls, finding y/n’s room. he knew she would be ok, but he wasn’t ok until he saw her for himself.

the second he saw her, his tensed up body had begun to calm down. her face didn’t have a pained expression or anything. she looked so alive and safe and eddie just wanted to take her into his arms.

he skipped into the room, and her face lit up when seeing him. “hey, mrs bulletproof,” eddie says, walking over with his hands in his pockets. he’s pretending like his heart wasn’t about to fall out of his ass.

“hey,” y/n says softly.

“how are you feeling?”

“i’m good, no broken ribs or anything. just this gnarly bruise,” y/n lifts up her shirt to reveal the purple and red skin of her fresh bruise. eddie hisses when looking at it before sitting next to her. he might be putting on an act, a fearless one. y/n is able to see right through it. “eddie.”

he looks up at her, meeting his eyes with hers. his eyes were starting to water because he is so used to the worst case.

“oh, eddie. come here,” she says, pulling him into a warm embrace to give him some comfort. eddie has built up a ton of walls. hiding himself from his own emotions and definitely concealing them from everyone around him. the world around him sees him as just a strong, tough guy. y/n was the first person to realize that he is more than that. everything he feels is validated by her, and he’s so much more fragile than what everyone sees. “it knocked the wind out of me, that’s all.”

“but what if the vest was off? he could’ve gotten you at any time,” all of the ‘ what if’s’ are speeding through eddie’s brain.

“you think i haven’t thought about that? every single day i get out there and know i saved someone’s life. you do the same exact thing. and i worry about you so much… god, it feels like my chest will explode. the second i heard that gunshot i thought about you. but all i had at that moment was the fact that i saved someone’s life today.”

“because you’re a hero,” eddie says.

“no, because we are heroes. that’s what gets me through every day when i worry about you and i. you saved me when i needed saving and i will forever do the same for you.”

eddie sighs, and his body relaxes along with his features. he puts out his hand for y/n to hold onto. “¿para siempre?”

y/n smiles once again and nods, grabbing his hand and leaving a kiss on it. “para siempre.”

y/n was on the couch in eddie’s home, sitting next to christopher. eddie had brought in some popcorn for everyone and placed the bowl on the table in front of them. christopher had dug in immediately, and eddie pulled up the hem of y/n’s shirt. “i couldn’t find any ice packs, somehow.”

he places a frozen bag of peas and carrots onto her injured ribcage as she winced at the pressure. he quickly apologized and leaves it down on the bruise that was changing color every day.

eddie had not left her side, icing her bruise and doing everything for her. he constantly protested whenever she would try to get up and move herself. she may as well have been put on bed rest due to his actions. she tried to argue back, but ultimately failed in the end. she would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it at least a little bit. she’s a very independent person, which eddie admires about her character, but they both secretly love it when they get to care for each other. he stayed with her through the night, clearing out the bad dreams and thoughts in her head. being a rookie, she was still shaken up by the thought of what happened. eddie was there to ease her mind and bring her back down to earth.

after carrying christopher’s sleeping self to his bed and tucking him in, eddie helped y/n stand up and walk over to their bedroom. he climbs into the bed next to her, laying on his side and brushing her hair behind her ears.

“i’m so lucky i found you, and i’m even luckier that you’re here with me.”

she sleepily grins with her eyes shut before whispering out the three little words that mean so much.

[iiconicxpersona]

Whatever It Takes.

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Warnings: this fic features a scene from s02e03 Our Man in Madrid and that episode is a trigger warning in its own, but if you need specifics then this fic includes ANGST, mvrder, su!c!d3 attempt, depression, alcoholism. MINORS DNI & READ AT YOUR OWN RISK (I cannot stress that enough)

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: You and Javier get tagged along in a manhunt gone wrong with the return of Colonel Carrillo. After the tragedy that occurs, you look to Javier for comfort only to get heartbroken when he seeks comfort from another woman.

From the moment you were assigned the Escobar case in Bogotá, you prepared yourself for the best and the worst. You knew that once this case was finally over, and God only knew how long that would take, you would not return to Texas like the woman you were when you left. However, it didn’t seem to matter exactly how much you prepared yourself ahead of time in all aspects; nothing was ever going to prepare you for all the horrors you had witnessed and the ones still yet to come.

“We’re all in. Whatever it takes.”

Words you, Agent Javier Peña, and Agent Steve Murphy repeated to each other almost frequently to remind yourselves and each other that this is what you signed up for when you agreed to do whatever it took to catch Escobar and every single person whoever took a single dollar from him. Of course, Messina and the entire force did everything they could to keep your missions restricted, but to catch a bad guy; you must be willing to break some rules.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Colonel Carrillo was the King of playing by his own rules. His methods were cruel and relentless, but they were effective in one way or another. But those same methods ultimately led him to be transferred to Spain. When he was brought back on the team by the Colombian government, it shook you to the core, and the only problem was that you could no longer tell if that was good or bad.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

The first mission at hand with Colonel Carrillo is to track down every spotter Escobar had hiding in the area. It seems simple enough, considering the spotters were mainly children under eighteen.

“Peña, Y/L/N, you come with me.” Carrillo orders.

You and Javier exchange looks of concern to each other and then to Steve, who's disappointed when Carrillo tells him to stay behind for radio contact.

“You be careful out there,” Steve adds as you and Javier follow Carrillo to one of the unmarked cars.

“You got your vest on?” Javier asks without looking at you.

You nod and pat your stomach hard enough to make the bulletproof padding audible. “I never leave without it.”

“Good. This could get ugly, so I want you to always stay beside me. Understand?” He finally looks at you while still walking forward.

“Jesus, Javi, this isn’t my first rodeo.” You scoff.

He rolls his eyes, clearly not amused by your comment. “Cariño, I’m fucking serious. These kids are dangerous, and the last thing I want is for you to underestimate one, and he holds you at gunpoint or worse.”

Just then, you remembered what Javi had told you the day Steve’s adopted baby girl, Oliva, was rescued, and you instantly regretted trying to be sarcastic. He never told Steve, but while they were chasing down the two men responsible for murdering Olivia’s biological family and you were in the house guarding her, Javier came close to catching one of the men until a little boy caught him off guard from behind and held him at gunpoint. Javier was sure that at any moment, the kid would pull the trigger and kill him, or worse, he would miss his shot, and Javier would have to kill the kid instead. Thankfully, once the guy he was chasing got away, so did the kid, and ever since then, Javier knew that with the right amount of money and power, Escobar could make anyone do anything.

“Always stay beside me. Understand?” Javier demandingly repeated.

You nod. “I understand.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

One by one, each kid that Escobar hired as a spotter was taken into custody. However, Carrillo had other plans instead of taking them straight to the station for interrogation like you and Javier thought.

Given Carrillo's extreme methods in the past, you should’ve known that this wouldn’t be as simple as you had hoped. Though you figured that because they were just kids, what could go wrong?

Everything.

One right next to the other, at least seven boys are lined up in the middle of a dark alley with their hands behind their heads and sitting upright on their knees. You stand next to Javier off in the distance while Carrillo paces slowly in front of them. As you examine their faces, it breaks your heart to see how young they are. Some look at least sixteen, but the youngest looks six or seven.

They try to keep stone-cold faces on while Carrillo attempts to scare them straight. A couple of the boys laugh at him and make insults in Spanish.

“Shut up, kid.” Javier mumbles.

You do your best to look as emotionless as possible, but mentally, you are frightened to know what is going through Carrillo’s mind, especially when he pulls out his gun and begins loading it in front of them.

One of the older boys laughs and asks Carrillo if he should be scared.

“No,” Carrillo replies.

BANG.

You stood there and watched the now young lifeless body slowly fall to the ground. Aside from the streetlights, the alleyway is pitch dark due to the summer evening, but you’d swear you could see everywhere the boy’s blood had splattered as if it happened in daylight.

It took every fiber in your being not to lose your cool or vomit at the scene. You were even too afraid to reach for Javier, who was only a couple of inches away from you, for some comfort. Although judging from how his body tensed up and the look on his face, he was just as distraught inside as you were.

What was Carrillo thinking? Even if the kid tried to be a fearless macho man about it, he was still just a kid. There were plenty of other ways Carrillo could’ve tried to prove a point to them about the dangers of working with someone like Escobar. Regardless of whether you liked it, he gave them a harsh reality check.

Carrillo then takes one bullet from his gun and hands it to the youngest boy, telling him to give it to Escobar and let him know who it is from. You watch helplessly as the boy takes the bullet with tears running down his face and stuffs it in his pocket. Then Carrillo finally sets the remaining boys free. You immediately cling to Javier once they are out of sight.

He hesitates for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around you, still in shock from what just happened as you tried your best to hold back your sobs.

“Cariño…” Javier struggles to find the right words. How could he comfort you when he couldn’t convince himself that everything was fine? “We have to go.” He finally said.

Whatever it takes.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

This is one of those nights you wish Javier wouldn’t depend on a cheap hooker to help him forget.

About six months ago, after almost losing you during a shootout mission, Javier suggested that you move in with him “for your safety,” which you hesitantly accepted two months later. Murphy always teased how Javier always had a soft spot for you, and although you couldn’t deny you also had a soft spot for Javier, you tried to keep your crush precisely that: just a crush. Even if it nearly killed you inside when he would come home late smelling of sex, cheap perfume, and cigarettes.

While staring blankly at a pile of paperwork, your mind couldn’t stop replaying what happened less than an hour ago. Steve tried talking to you about how frustrated he was about Carrillo not trusting him to tag along with the mission, but his words only went in one ear and out of the other.

“You should be grateful.” You finally spoke up, still not taking your eyes off the paperwork.

At that moment, Steve gave up on his argument. As much as he hated feeling like an outsider because of his looks, nationality, or poor Spanish, he knew his troubles were nothing compared to what you and Javier were going through at this very moment.

You could hear Javier mumbling under his breath on the phone at his desk, which generally meant he was talking to one of his hookers. At that point, you were already two shots deep in tequila and resting your head on your arms to hide your face like the game you used to play at school as a kid.

You hated the jealous feeling that crept up inside you as he talked to her about meeting with her in the next half an hour.

Why tonight of all nights? Or if he needed a good fuck to help him forget, then why couldn’t it be with you? You were there. You saw everything happen just as he did. Did it ever occur to him that maybe you needed a night of meaningless sex to help you forget everything too? In all the years you had known Peña, he had no shame in screwing every woman in sight, but he never once offered to put his hands on you. Sure, you flirt with each other almost every day, but would there ever be more? Were you not pretty enough? Or not skinny enough? Or because you didn’t open your legs to every man in sight?

“Cariño, you all right?” Javier’s low voice startles you out of your thoughts. He places his hands on your shoulders and begins to massage you once you sit up and lean back into your chair, feeling your body relax under his touch.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lie. Your voice is now hoarse from choking back all the tears and emotions.

Javier leans down and wraps his arms around your upper body with his chin resting on your shoulder. “Don’t you disappear on me, okay?”

You nod, and he kisses your cheek and gives you one last squeeze.

“I gotta run a few errands, but I’ll be home late.”

Desperation kicks into high gear, and you cling to his arms for dear life. “Wait, you’re leaving?”

“It’s just for a few hours. I need to clear my head. You understand, right?” He pulls away from you once your grip loosens, but you still reach for him.

“Well yeah, but…”

“But what!” He snaps at you in frustration.

Then it hits you in that very second like a ton of bricks: you and Javier Peña will never be more than just friends.

You let go of his hand when the tears build up again. “You know what? Just go. I won’t wait up.”

Realizing what he had just done, a wave of guilt washes over Javier, and he slowly steps towards you. “Shit, cariño I’m sor…”

“I said go!”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

By the night's end, you had already downed most of the tequila. Murphy knew Javier would kill him if he had let you go home by yourself, so being the southern gentleman he is, he gave you a ride home.

On the inside, you were trying to fight off too many emotions. You didn’t dare to let Steve see you cry, especially after witnessing your little moment with Javier. For what? So that he can tell Javi, and they can laugh at how pathetic you are behind your back? Though you knew they would never do that, it was still a fear that helped keep your emotions in check.

“Thanks for the ride, Murphy.” You half smiled at him.

“Of course.” He could hear the pain in your voice, but he tried his best to keep cool. You’re already going through enough as it is. “Hey, just know I’m right next door if you need anything.”

“You’re a good man, Steve. Connie’s a lucky girl.” You lean in to give him a small peck on the cheek before letting yourself out of the car.

You dread every single step toward your shared apartment with Javi. You dread it so much that if you were stable enough, you’d walk to your old apartment two buildings over. Most of your stuff is still there, considering you had just moved in with Javier four months ago. You had only brought essential things like clothes, makeup, bathroom stuff, and a few sentimental values. But the fact that you were barely making it on your own to Javi’s front door was enough to make you rethink.

Once you stumble inside, the first thing you noticed was how quiet it is. Too quiet. Not that you and Javi were noisy people when he didn’t have women over, which thankfully wasn’t often ever since you moved in. But even then, the apartment is never this quiet. You hate the silence. It only made the events of tonight replay louder and louder in your brain.

Throwing off your coat and shoes, you let them land wherever as you make your way to the radio and turn it on to a local rock station with the volume on full blast. You swerve over to Javier’s liquor cabinet and mindlessly scan around at each of his selections. The one bottle of bourbon he saved for special occasions had caught your eye. Judging from how rich the bottle looks, it must be one of his most expensive liquors. Your conscious told you to stop, but the music and your drunk state of mind were enough to tune it out. You grab the bottle from the glass shelf and gnaw the cap off before downing the liquor like water.

You never smoked a cigarette, but once you found Javier’s carton in the cabinet, you pulled out a fresh pack and ripped off the plastic wrap. Javier was already a heavy smoker as it was, but he seemed to smoke a lot more when he was stressed out, and you wanted to know what it was like. If it helps Javi calm down, why wouldn’t it help you?

You flick the first white stick out of the small paper box as if you were already a natural to smoking. Not that you would admit it out loud, but after seeing Javi do it a few times, you were tempted and tried it for shits and giggles.

Lighting the stick between your lips, you inhaled deeply only to choke out the nicotine and smoke immediately. “I can’t believe Javi likes this shit.” You gag.

The first few puffs were disgusting, and if it weren’t for the bourbon making it easier to wash down the horrid taste, you would’ve thrown up after the first puff. But soon enough, you were already on your second and third cigarette. Each smoke is smoother than the last.

Dancing around in the living room in a tank top and panties, with a cigarette in your mouth and another bottle of whiskey in your hands, you were on cloud nine, and for the first time that night, nothing else mattered. You weren’t aware of how much you had already drunk or how you were already almost finished with the first pack of cigarettes. You even forgot you were in Javier’s apartment until the clock caught your attention. It’s 2:30 am, and Javier still isn’t home. If you were sober, you probably would’ve been worried sick about him, but his delay made you angry. He didn’t have to spend the night with another cheap hooker, and if he did feel the need to, he could’ve at least called you to let you know he wasn’t coming home.

How dare he? After everything you two had been through tonight, how dare he leave you alone? How dare he not be here so you two can try to comfort each other? How dare he yell at you in front of Murphy, embarrassing you when you only wanted him to stay? How dare he be a typical douchebag and leave you just to get his dick wet by some random bitch he barely knows? How dare he not see that you care about him so damn much? How fucking dare Javier Peña!?

At that moment, you refused to reason anymore and instead let your anger-fueled adrenaline take complete control of your body.

His precious liquor cabinet is the first item to fall victim to your rage. You push it off the wall with full force and watch it slowly crash to the ground, just like the little boy did in the alley. Then you grab every bottle that didn’t break in the fall and throw them in random areas of the living room. Only the shattering noise, your cries, and the loud music fill the void that is Javier’s apartment.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You don’t remember how you wound up on the bathroom floor next to the toilet with more bourbon in one hand and your pistol in the other. Your adrenaline was still pumping through your veins uncontrollably, and you couldn’t feel any of the cuts that formed all over your body from the broken glass. Miraculously, none of which were too deep to leave a permanent scar.

There’s no telling how long ago your rampage began, but suddenly the radio that was once blaring rock music had gone silent. You didn’t care. You sat there hugging your knees with the hand holding the pistol while continuing to drink.

You could hear heavy footsteps slowly inching closer to the bathroom, and then he turned the corner with his pistol pointing directly at you.

“C—Cariño…” Javier mumbled in shock.

He was about to rush to you, but then he froze in place the second you extended your arm and aimed your pistol at him. “Don’t. Come. Any. Closer.” You demand.

Suddenly, every ounce of color was flushed from Javi’s face. He slowly put his gun down on the sink and raised his hands in surrender. The image made you chuckle as he slowly dropped to his knees before you.

“Baby, plea—”

“SHUT UP!” You scream, and it catches you both off guard. “All I wanted was for you to stay with me. To help me forget. But no! Typical Javier Peña; you had to think with your dick! You didn’t even care enough to call me to let me know when you’ll be home or to see if I was all right. Do you realize that I probably would’ve never made it home if it wasn't for Murphy? Thank God he’s a fucking decent human being, unlike you!” At this point, you couldn’t hold back the tears as you cock the gun, making Javier tense up in fear for the second time.

“Cariño, I’m sorry. I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I should’ve been here for you, and I know that now. But please don’t do this.” Javier pleaded.

“It’s too late.” You choke out.

Javier felt his heart stop when you pointed the gun barrel at your temple. In his mind, he had already snatched the gun from your hand, but physically he couldn’t move.

However, once you pulled the trigger, the only sound filling the apartment was a click.

You gasp at the reality of what you were about to do and drop everything in your hands. Only then did Javier find the strength to stumble over and embrace you tightly in his arms.

You hyperventilate and bawl into his shirt as Javi tries to calm you down. Once again, your hands cling to him for dear life. “I’m so sorry, Javi!” You cry.

“Shh. Shh. It’s all right, baby. It’s all right. I’m here now.” He strokes your hair and slowly rocks you back and forth in his arms until you finally fall asleep.

Javier gently picks you up bridal style and carries you to his room, where he could grab a wet towel and some hydrogen peroxide to clean some of your cuts off before tucking you into bed. He took a second to sit there and stare at you as you slept peacefully. If he didn’t feel guilty before, he does now.

Javier sometimes liked to think of himself as a sharp man, but he was blind when it came to you. Murphy often told him that anyone could see you two were head over heels for each other, but he never accepted it as the truth. He never thought you cared about him as more than a friend. And he blew it when he finally had his chance to prove to you that he was worthy of your heart.

There was no telling how long it would take you to forgive him, but he was willing to do whatever it took to regain your trust. He’s all in now, and this time, he wouldn’t make this mistake again.

[thezombieprostitute]

Hummingbird - Part 6

Summary: You didn't want to break into someone's party but you were desperate to see the art at the gallery before it was gone. You're so busy trying to make sure no one sees you that you miss the ever present gaze of Steve Rogers who is wondering why you crashed his party.

Word Count: ~1.5k

A/N: Reader is AFAB

A/N2: This takes place at the same time as Dream Come True Part 7

Warnings: Implied violence. Please let me know if I missed any.

Part 5 -- Part 7

Series Masterlist

Steve is on edge. Ransom might be trapped in his own home and the only way to find out anything was to send in a civilian. True she was on their payroll, but she’s supposed to only be on the legitimate side of things. Bucky was swearing up a storm and vowing to beat every passphrase he could into Ransom’s head so that this shit would never happen again. 

Bucky gets a phone call from Mace, Curtis’s second-in-command. He immediately puts the phone on speaker, “what’ve we got Mace?”

“Note from Ransom that reads, Lloyd is back. Has solid plans to take over everything. We’re getting our intel to confirm and find out where he’s at.”

Steve’s blood runs cold. He knew he should’ve just had Lloyd killed but he was trying to not be like the other Bosses in the other Families. He won’t make that mistake again.

Bucky follows up, “what’s the word on Teach? She safe with you guys?”

“Not yet,” Mace answered. “She sent us a photo of the note from Ransom. Haven’t heard…” There's a ruckus in the background as they hear Curtis yelling. “Give me a minute,” Mace tells them. He doesn’t hang up so Steve and Bucky are privy to the argument between Curtis and Mace. Steve finds himself unable to argue with either man as they go back and forth between priorities. He’d heard rumors Curtis was going soft for Teach but this confirmed it for him. He can’t say he wouldn’t be doing the same if Hummingbird was in danger.

“Shit,” Steve cusses, earning a look from Bucky. “We gotta get a hold of Levinson. Start moving people out of here just in case a war does break out.” 

Bucky nods as Mace gets back on the line with them. “I don’t know how much of that you heard,” Mace’s voice is cold and a little shaky, “but Curtis is taking an axe with him.”

“Fuck,” Bucky whispers. 

“We’ve gotta get a plan in motion and we can’t do that without intel,” Steve says. “I need you and your team to focus on that. If you can find Teach you will tell me her location first so I can talk Everett down. In the meantime we’re getting Levinson to start getting the more at-risk people out of here.”

Bucky nods and adds, “we’re gonna up our patrols a bit and make sure no one goes out unarmed. I’m gonna call in a few friends, Nat should be done setting up McMann’s wife, Barton says he’s been feeling on edge so he’ll be happy to hear it ain’t for nothing.”

“Stay safe, Boss,” Mace says before hanging up.

You’re getting your things ready for whatever it is Steve has planned. He’d called you earlier and told you that there was an emergency and he needed to bring you to his place for a while for safety. Hearing a knock at the door you check through the peephole first to confirm it’s Steve. You let him in and he immediately bearhugs you.

“You’ve got your things packed,” he asks. 

“Just finished.” He nods at your response and gestures for you to follow him. The entire quick walk to the car you can see he’s on alert. His shoulders are tense, every noise warrants a look or quick investigation. 

When you’re inside the car Steve seems a little more relaxed. You know from previous discussions the tinted windows are bulletproof and it looks like he’s got his best driver, Dayton White, behind the wheel. You get the impression the “emergency” he talked about means he’s in danger. 

“Is it safe to talk,” you ask, squeezing his hand.

“Technically,” he replies. “Better to wait until we’re inside.” 

You nod and hold his hand the entire trip. 

When you reach Steve’s office he starts taking and making a storm of phone calls. The primary seems to be someone named Levinson. You trust Steve to explain things so you sit and wait patiently. 

After about an hour a grizzly bear of a man comes in, “Steve, where is she?”

“Ari,” Steve greets. “She’s right there,” and he points to you. “Hummingbird, I need you to go to a safehouse out of town with Levinson.”

“Excuse me,” you ask. “I have no idea what’s going on. Why am I not safe here with you?”

Levinson looks at Steve, eyebrows raised, “you didn’t tell her anything?”

“I’ve been kinda busy,” Steve barks. He looks at you, “we’ve got a very dangerous man looking to bring us down. He will not hesitate to take out anyone that might be remotely associated with us. Ari is our best at coordinating people to get them out of danger without drawing attention, I want you to go with him.”

“Is everyone else out,” you ask.

Steve’s brows furrow in confusion, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean are the others safe already,” you reply. “The nieces and nephews? The Family members that run the legitimate businesses? Are they safe?”

“I want you out with the first few trips,” Steve orders.

“No,” you retort. “I get that I’m important to you and that puts a target on my back, but I’m not leaving and taking up Mr. Levinson’s precious time that could otherwise be spent protecting the more vulnerable Family members!”

“You’re wasting his time now,” Steve scolds. “Just go with him and do as he says so I know you’re safe!”

“I’m not the priority for escape,” you argue. “I can stay inside this fortress. Not everyone else can. Get them out first and then I’ll go!”

Steve is cut off by his phone ringing. “It’s Jensen, I gotta answer.” He keeps glaring at you, trying to stare you down as he barks, “what?!”

“We…we got Teach’s location, Boss,” Jensen stutters. “Cairo hotel on 45th and Washington.”

Steve writes as he speaks, “Cairo hotel, 45th, Washington, got it. Now get back to work on Lloyd.” He hangs up and goes to speak to you but Ari cuts him off. 

“Cairo hotel? I know the manager there. What’s going on?”

Steve takes a breath, “we’ve got a person, a civilian, who appears to have been kidnapped by Lloyd. Tracker on her phone says she’s there.”

“Well, let me give him a call and see if he can’t get her out,” Ari takes out his phone. 

Steve sighs, “and if he gives you trouble, tell him Everett’s gone Berserker and will do anything to get her out safely.”

Ari freezes at that, “holy shit. I don’t think Pine will let him in.”

“I’ll talk him down first, get him to give up his axe,” Steve assures. Ari nods and walks away to make his phone call. Steve then turns his attention to you, “and you are leaving to get somewhere safe.”

“Again, Steve,” you insist, “I am not the priority here. Let the other family go first, I’ll stay right here where you can see me, and after they’re gone, and after that poor woman gets rescued, I’ll get out. I promise.”

Steve is already worn out from the slew of arguments he’s been having so he relents, “fine. But you do not leave my sight. You stay in this room.”

“Yes, Sir,” you smile gently.

He gives you a warning look and calls up Curtis. It takes him a few tries but Everett finally answers. You can hear him yelling over the phone. “We have her location,” Steve tells him. “I’ll give it to you if you calm the hell down.”

There’s some more angry yelling before Steve gets in another word,“because if we’re not careful a lot more people will be hurt and killed. And I know you know that. The last thing we need is Berserker. Now get yourself together, Everett. Put away the axe and I’ll tell you where you can get her. Full stealth operation.”

Steve looks at you and his eyes soften, “do you really want her to see you like this?”

It must’ve done the trick because he tells Curtis what the plan is as Ari returns with some of the finer details of his friend accepting the visit. When they’re done talking Ari leaves to get others moving out of danger and Steve drops into his office chair. 

“Sounds like he’s really in love with her,” you comment. 

Steve nods, “though from what I hear he might not realize it yet.”

“They’ll figure it out soon enough, I’m sure.” You take Steve’s hand in yours. “Sometimes it can take a while.” 

He nods again, “took me a couple years to actually ask you out.”

You look into his eyes, “and it’s taken me a few extra months to say, I love you, Steve.”

His eyes are a mixture of adoration and happiness as he kisses your hand, “I love you too, Hummingbird.”

Part 5 -- Part 7

Series Masterlist

Tags:

@alicedopey; @aryhyuuga; @cynic-spirit; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @ktficworld; @rayofdawnworld; @rebekahdawkins; @texmexdarling

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know.

[elphiej]

Be My Light - Chapter 10: An Act of Trust

*Genre: Mafia, Angst, Slow burn, eventual smut

*Warnings: Mentions of drugs, language, anxiety

Authors Note: How has it been so long? It's been a bit of a tough time but I have returned to my happy place. I hope you enjoy this look into the Magic Shop. I copy and paste the Tag List, so for those who no longer wish to be in it, I completely understand. Please just message me and I'll remove you. For any new interested readers who would like to be apart of the Tag List, same thing. Please just be patient with me. I'm on new any depressants and will be trying my very best to keep up with this. No matter what, I will never stop this fic and I will try my best to make any wait worth it. Feel free to drop a like, comment, or anything. Also posted on AO3 under the same name, Enjoy!

Tag list: Tag list: @lolalalooo, @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng, @barbikatherine,  @mrsfortune1306, @lovesick-heart0, @iamnamjoonsbxtch, @deathkat657, @deeepvibes, @sugamonster22, @weiinihao, @hemmofluke, @rainbow-zebra-unicorns, @joyfullyobsessed-blog, @elvencantation, @thefreddieman, @whateveritis616, @crewzie-chan, @wyomingphantom, @killbillv1, @kyrah-williams, @utterlynutters, @ot7jellostan, @zahraaelamira, @shesaysweirdthings, @toriluvsfics, @emu007, @zae007live​

Chapter 10: An Act of Trust.

            This is incredible, you found yourself repeating as you followed Taehyung through the Magic Shop.

            The mansion was the prime example of the phrase ‘never judge a book by its cover’. Though, if you were being completely honest, Bangtan had shown many examples of that phrase the more you were around them. Where the outside of the Magic Shop was foreboding, broken, and cold, the inside was warm, modern, and inviting. And so well maintained. For a group of young men, the place was immaculate. You thought back to when Jin and Jungkook had cleaned your apartment on the first night and decided that you really shouldn’t be surprised. As you looked about the passing rooms, they were beautifully decorated in a modern style that really complimented everyone and the structure.

            Taehyung had, first, led you down the spiral staircase under the front foyer into what you assumed were the old service areas. Now, it was an expansive garage lined with a vast variety of vehicles. You recognized the truck that Jin had driven you home in, the silver sports car that Taehyung had picked you up in that first day, and the town car that you had just been in. Heuning Kai waved at the two of you from his place by the town car, polishing it to look as new. You looked down the rows in awe. As you took in the fleet of cars, you started to understand that you had vastly underestimated how much money Bangtan must have had. But were all of these bought or were they spoils of the job? Or were some of them stolen? You were really trying not to think so poorly of your hosts, but could it really be helped?

            “Nice, huh?” Taehyung crossed his arms with pride as he leaned against a very nice looking black two-door car. He nodded over towards the familiar pickup truck. “That was the first truck we bought back in the early days. We lived off of cheap ramen and stolen veggies, but it was worth it. Jin put a lot of hardware into it over the years. He stayed up a lot of nights reading mechanic books to make it work for us. Now we’re able to hire mechanics who will follow whatever design and dream he can think up to help us. Like bulletproof glass and exteriors, homing beacons, storage and seats that fold down so we can use the space for anything. They, even, have this feature that sends an alert to all of our phones if the vehicle’s ever in an accident so we can get to each other.”

            “I suppose Jin thought of everything, didn’t he?”

            “Yeah,” Taehyung smiled a huge boxy grin. “Jin-hyung is all about keeping us safe. He’s like the mom of our family. He’s always taken such good care of us.”

            As your eyes roamed across the row of vehicles, your eyes caught sight of a sleek, black motorcycle in the farthest corner of the garage. You had always wanted to ride on one ever since one of Amber’s friends came by the hospital to show his new one off. But you had always been too scared to ask to ride along; working in the ER would do that to a person.

            “Like that? That’s Jungkookie’s, He always wanted one. And Yoongi-hyung and Jiminie bought it for him as a graduation present to encourage him to finish school. He was so excited when he went to go pick it out. It’s his favorite thing. Seems like you like it too. I’m sure if you ask him, he’d take you on a ride. As long as he doesn’t combust from shyness. I’d suggest you wait until you’ve been around him more before you ask him.”

            “Oh no,” you said, turning back towards Tae. “I don’t think that would be very smart. Do you know how many cases in my ER are from motorcycle accidents? I wouldn’t dream of it.” You were sure by the look on Taehyung’s face that he could hear the disappointment in your tone as you tried to fool yourself.

            He smiled. “You know that is the same argument that Jin-hyung said when it was brought home. But I know I have a picture of them riding on it together.”

            Taehyung, then, led you out of the garage. As you ascended the spiral stairs back into the front foyer, you were taken down the hallway where Namjoon had appeared towards the kitchen. The hallway was lined with what looked like framed family portraits of Bangtan throughout the years. There were some of them all together dressed all nice, and a few of them in random units posed in fun ways. It was interesting to see how they grew and changed over the years. But it was, also, sad to see how young they were. You paused in front of what appeared to be their first family photo. Where the other photos were in suits or business casual attire, their first picture looked as if they had watched too many hip-hop music videos. Dressed in fake basketball jerseys and hats, or in layered phony designer shirts and too much eyeliner, they looks so young and inexperienced. You almost didn’t recognize Namjoon with his crazy hair and dark glasses, or Jimin with his very tanned skin and shaggy black hair. And Jungkook looked like he had barely started puberty with his round doe-eyes. It really made you wonder what could cause such young kids to turn to gang life. Yoongi and Namjoon you understood since Yoongi had explained his side to you. But were all their stories the same? You had to figure out how to ask them.

       The kitchen looked like it belonged to a showroom with top-of-the-line appliances set against stunning marble counter tops. You imagined this is what a world class chef would want. It was beyond clean and spacious with a large capacity refrigerator and freezer, a fully stocked wine cabinet that almost reached the ceiling, a huge stove and dual ovens, and a large island that could be used for anything. Off the main part, set against a large set of windows that overlooked a courtyard in the middle of the Magic Shop, was a cozy breakfast nook and a fully stocked coffee bar that could meet the needs of the pickiest of coffee drinkers. There were a few different machines for different types of coffee, syrups, stirrers, and different sugars. The enticing smell of whatever Namjoon had made still permeated the room.

            The only thing that was missing was the staff to man such a space. Perhaps they had the morning off?

            Taehyung opened up the fully stocked cabinets, pantry, and fridge to show off their contents and told you to that you would help yourself to anything whenever you wanted.

            “We always make extra so you can have whatever. Or, if you would rather cook something for yourself, by all means. But since one of us will be with you, we may offer to do it.”

            “You all cook?” You remembered the amount of food Jin had ordered the first night for you and figured that’s what they did regularly.

            “Some of us do,” he remarked with a shrug. “Namjoon-hyung can only really make coffee. And my skills are a bit limited. But the others are really good at it. We always leave leftovers if we are out late on missions for the other. We try to have family dinner when we are all together. And we talked about letting you come too, since you’ll be here for a while. If you want, that is. But trust me, you’re gonna want to.”

            “So, you make your own food? I would expect a place like this would come with a fleet of cooks since you all would be…busy.”

            Taehyung laughed. “You would think so. But we are pretty self-sufficient. Other than our hired Army, we don’t really have a staff full time. I mean, there are two mechanics that come to tune up the cars every month, a couple ladies who come in to do a deep clean every three months or so, and Jin brings in a couple helpers once in a while when he’s stuck in whatever he’s working on. But that’s only a very few very trusted people. They’re all older locals though who we’ve helped over the years, so we know they won’t betray us. It’s just safer if we keep it low. When we bring in new people, it’s blind like how we did with you. Not that we don’t trust you. I mean…” Taehyung started trying to figure out how to better explain it.

            “It’s alright. I understand. I am a stranger to you guys. Despite how many card games I’ve beat you at or coffee dates you take me on.” You smiled as your little joke seemed to ease the tension. “It makes sense really. It’s better to be cautious. If anything happens to me, I wouldn’t be able to say anything even if I could.”

            “Hey,” Tae brought his hand to your shoulder, face very serious, “nothing is going to hurt you here. I trust you. Call it my superpower, but I can read people really well. All the years on the street do that to a person. You are a good person. Otherwise, we would have blindfolded you before you stepped out of the car. Everyone agreed to welcome you in our home not just because of all you’ve done for Hyung. We could have just set you up in a safe house if I thought you were up to something.”

            You were sure he was being genuine with you. He did seem like he was going very beyond the bare minimum he needed to do had it been some other person. You knew he was trying to make you feel safe and comfortable in this whole situation. They were doing so much for you, you just needed to allow yourself to relax and not think about all the other things. You tried to ignore the dark cloud that kept coming up the second you started to forget their profession and focus on the person.

            From the kitchen, you were lead to the outside courtyard. It must have been intended to be a beautiful event space in its conception. There were moss covered statues, an elegant fountain surrounded by ivy covered iron benches, and beautiful plants that brought so much color to the space. Above, there was a façade that looked like a tapered roof covered in ripped tarps that Tae explained let in a lot of light and rain but kept anyone or thing from seeing inside. Bangtan had really thought of everything to keep the Magic Shop secret. Across the courtyard and through another door, you were shown an impressive gym with an attached studio that Taehyung explained was used for combat training, dance practice, or anything they wanted. Next to that was a shower, steam room, and a large indoor swimming pool. All of which was fair game for you to use if you wanted to.

            After that, the excited man showed you what he deemed ‘the living space’. Up the stairs to the second floor, there was a massive formal dining room, a small library that you really wanted to explore, a small infirmary, a game room, and some office used for whatever they wanted to work on privately. He pointed to another staircase and mentioned that some of their bedrooms were up on the third floor and so were Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s personal workspaces. Jin’s workspace was in the basement, while Jungkook’s room and personal gaming room was on the attic floor with Taehyung’s art studio. There was so much space in this house that you began to wonder if there was a map so you wouldn’t get lost. Before you could try to remember how to get back to the last room, you found yourself in an expansive living room. You figured this may be where you’d be spending a majority of your time. The room was open design with a massive L-shaped couch that seemed like it could fit more than seven, sleek coffee tables, two elegant armchairs with oversized ottomans, and a few beanbag chairs stacked in a corner. Mounted to the wall was a huge flat screen television and on either side of it where towering shelves full of movies, tv series, music, and video games to last a lifetime. There were multiple gaming consoles stacked neatly on top. And on the far wall, there was a small mini fridge, a cupboard with snacks, and a small bar. It was homely and comfortable.

            “We spend a lot of our down time together in here,” Taehyung said, smiling at your awed expression. “It’s probably one of my favorite rooms, besides my bedroom.”

            “I can see why. It has pretty much everything in here. It’s bigger than my apartment. Well, this house is so large it’s a wonder how you can find anyone in here. I still haven’t seen Jimin, Jungkook, or Jin. I feel like I could walk right past them in here and never know it.”

            “Well, Jin is on the basement level working on something. We won’t need to go down there. There is nothing there that’d interest you. Honestly, it’s a bit more confusing to get down there anyway so just try to stay on the first two floors. But. he’ll come up for lunch in a while. Since I didn’t see Jungkook in here or the gym, my guess is that he is probably still in his room. He was up late last night playing video games and is most likely still sleeping. But if ever in doubt, always start looking for him in the gym or where his games are. As for Jimin, I’m not sure where he is. He was excited for you to come to the Magic Shop. I thought he would meet us in the front or outside. That was his plan anyway. Something might have come up. I’m sure we’ll see him at lunch. Oh yeah, there’s someone else I want you to meet. Now, where is he?”

            Suddenly, while you were distracted by some of the framed, less staged photos on the wall, something small and fuzzy ran across your foot. You shrieked and it took everything in your body to keep from kicking at whatever it was as you fell back into one of the armchairs. Taehyung let out a loud laugh that filled the space and had him holding his sides.

            “Tannie! There’s my baby boy.” You turned over the chair to watch him stoop over and pick up a small black and brown Pomeranian puppy. The puppy yipped happily and gave his owner sloppy kisses that Tae returned. “I was wondering where you had gotten off too. Such a silly boy. You shouldn’t scare our guest like that. She’s a nice girl, the one I told you about. Say you’re sorry.”          

            The puppy let out a big yawn. You weren’t sure if that was the apology Taehyung was expecting.

            “Sorry, I didn’t mean to react like that. I’ve been a bit jumpier than usual. I wasn’t expecting such a tiny thing to come running at me. You guys never mentioned that you had a dog.”

            “I didn’t? That doesn’t sound like me. I could have sworn I had talked about him a few times back in the hospital.” If you were honest, he might have. But there were plenty of times when you were fighting your many battles about trusting them that you tuned out most of the conversations. “This is Yeontan. He’s only eight months old. You don’t mind dogs, do you?”

            “No, I like all animals. He’s very cute,” you pushed off from the chair and stepped a bit closer. When Taehyung held the small dog out to you, you reached over and lightly scratched him behind his fuzzy ear. Yeontan let out a happy noise and licked your hand. You laugh a bit. “He’s so sweet. But I’ll be honest. I would never have suspected someone like you to have such a tiny dog.”

            “Oh, sure. I get that. Jungkookie keeps saying we should get a Doberman as a guard dog. That would definitely fit our image better. But I could never replace Tannie. He’s all mine.” Taehyung hugged the puppy close, and it warmed your heart. “I’ve always wanted a little dog ever since I was a kid. But a bad home life made it difficult. But all the guys pulled together and helped me get this little guy as a present. And I sold a few pieces in order to save up for classes so I could better take care of him. I wanted to be the best owner for him.”

            The way that Taehyung spoke and interacted with the dog was such a juxtaposition to the wicked mafia persona you had figured hid beneath. It was so cute that you could only wonder if someone would ever treat you with the same amount of affection. Had you not known about that side of his life, you’d swear he was just this lovable guy with a large heart. Though, something he had said gave you pause.

            “Save up? I feel like you all have more money than I can even imagine. I mean,” you made a grand gesture to the room, “why would you need to save up for anything?”

            “I’m sure it seems that way. Sure, we’re pretty well off. But when we first started, we were so poor, we didn’t have enough money to eat. We stole from the gas station just to eat once a day. And when we started out, we were nobodies, so it wasn’t like we were making anything. Whatever we did earn from gang activities went to important things like medicine and renting a room for the night, so we didn’t have to sleep on the street. Then, it went towards necessities, like weapons for protection or clothes so we wouldn’t freeze in the winter. Or bail when we got caught by the police. So, to ensure we would be able to make it and not be picked off by the other gangs, we got day jobs. Namjoon worked the gas station we stole from to make it up to the old man who owned it, Yoongi-hyung was a delivery boy, and Hobi-hyung and Jimin worked at a dance studio. Kookie and I found ways to help. The only one who had any money was Jin-hyung. His family was loaded. When I first met Jin-hyung, before I met the others, he was a student, and I was a street kid just trying not to go home. I saw him at a bus stop I used to tag all the time. He said my work was cool and just like a puppy, I started hanging around him. He fed me and even tried to teach me what he was learning since I dropped out. Then we met the others and Jin-hyung was using his money to help us. But when his father learned who he was hanging around, he cut him off. Until he was able to black mail his father.”

            “But,” Taehyung continued, seeing how off topic he was getting, “the point was, we always had other ways to get money that weren’t gang related. Even now, as big as we are, we still have little side jobs we do. It breaks up the monotony and gives us a little bit of an escape. What we earn from gang activities belongs to Bangtan; the upkeep of the house, paying Army, hospital bills, and our equipment. Anything we earn from our side hustle is ours for our own pleasure. That dance studio that Jimin and Hobi-hyung worked at, they now own. Jungkookie competes in videogame competitions and films himself playing games on the internet. Jin continues his family business, without his actual family. And Namjoon-hyung and Yoongi-hyung did music underground back in the day before all the gang stuff, and they still do. They write and produce demos and sell them. You’ve probably heard a few of their stuff. And we all help them sometimes. We joke that if we weren’t in this line of work, we’d probably be a world-renowned band. Funny huh?”

            Wow, you thought as you tried to process what he had just told you. There is so much more to these guys than I thought. How can they be this down to earth?

            “And what do you do?”

            “I told you that I used to be a street artist, right? Nothing too special; just tagging and doing funny graffiti. But the others really inspired me to keep going. Hell, Namjoon got arrested with me when I was attempting to improve some offensive street art someone left outside one of our favorite places just because he wanted to see me improve myself. Now, I’ve moved to a bunch of different mediums; I’ve tried charcoal, photography, drawing, and painting. I took all of those pictures,” he said pointing to the walls. “It’s pretty easy to find a muse when you have a great support system. Here let me show you some of my pieces.” He took your hand and led you out of the living room with a bounce in his step.

            He took you up the stairs and to his art room. You were fairly positive that this was not supposed to be part of the tour since this was where their more private spaces were. But the look on Tae’s face when he showed you his art room was enough to show you that he was very excited to show off his work to you. The room had hardwood floors and walls covered with different sizes of framed pictures of different famous artists that he admired. The room was loaded with supplies like stacks of canvases, drawing supplies and paints, different cameras, and drop clothes to protect the floor. There was a small couch and chairs that you recognized from some of the family portraits. He went over to a desk and grabbed a book. It was labeled Vante, which you remember used to be his street artist name before he shortened it to V for his gang related work. He flipped through the book and handed it to you when he found what he was looking for. There were pictures of different art pieces he had made. Each page had photos of the progression and the finished product with handwritten notes next to it as to when it was sold and for how much. The numbers made your eyes widen. There were things that you would expect to see in a museum. You were speech-less.

            He grabbed your hand once again and led you out of the studio and into the hallway. There were some more pieces hanging throughout the hallways, those he wouldn’t part with. There was one that was so breathtaking; it was a black and gray background, with a single light source from up center. In the center of the spotlight was a dancer clad in white, whose body was carved through shadows and face shown pale in the light, eyes closed in a serene way as if he was lost in the music you couldn’t hear. His arm was extended up to the light like a ballet dancer, so graceful. His hair, a steely blue, and the gathering shadows accentuate his sharp yet delicate features. And the more you looked at it, the more you began to realize that you had seen this person before.

            It was Jimin.

            As you were led to more art pieces, you started to realize that Taehyung had used Bangtan in many of them. They were breath taking. Not only were they all so good-looking, but the way Taehyung painted or photographed them made them look otherworldly. Near the end of a staircase that would lead to the top floor back to the floor some of their bedrooms could be found on, you found yourself stopped in front of what you came to realize was your favorite. It was a black and white photo made to look like a painting. There were seven people in front of a white background that looked like hands reaching out for each other. Five of the seven were leaning on each other, hunched over in a dramatic way. In the center were the final two, both with their arm up, one reaching for the sky and the other grasping the first wrist afraid to slip and let go. It was so simple yet complex, so artistic. You weren’t sure how long you were staring at it until Taehyung’s voice cut through your thoughts.

            “I was commissioned to make this for someone. But when it was done, I couldn’t part with it. The others loved it too. They hated that I was supposed to sell it to someone who wouldn’t understand it. So, Yoongi-hyung paid the commissioner for it, three times what he was going to pay me for it. Said he didn’t care how much the man wanted for it. It meant so much to us that it was priceless. Yoongi-hyung says it’s his favorite. I think it’s yours too.”

            “It’s so beautiful. You are truly an amazing artist.”

            “I have some great muses.”

            Taehyung and you stood there in silence a bit more before the silence was broken by someone coming out of one of the rooms. It was Hoseok. He looked a bit disheveled and breathless as if he had just run a mile, hair no longer sleek and tidy. He closed the door softly and turned with a grin, licking his lips in some sort of victory. He clapped his hands together and started down the hall with a hop in his step.

            He froze when he saw the two of you looking at him. “Umm...” he started nervously, “what are you two doing up here?”

            Oh right, I’m probably not meant to be up here. That’s why he’s confused. You turned your eyes back to the floor and your shoulders started to hunch. You didn’t want to intrude on their space. You were just following Taehyung and thought it was okay. But it would seem like not everyone was alright with his idea.

            Tae noticed the change in your posture and was having none of that, especially after he worked so hard to get you out of your shell to begin with. “I told you I was going to show her around the house. I was showing Y/N some of my artwork in my studio and figured I would show off the good ones. She really likes this one. I can’t say I blame her.”

            Hobi looked over at the painting. “Oh yeah, it is pretty. But don’t you have a copy of it in your phone you could have shown her? I thought we were just gonna keep it to the ground floors until Namjoon-.”

            “I’m sorry,” you said, arms wrapping around yourself in a nervous way. “I’m not trying to intrude. I wouldn’t have come up here unless Taehyung had brought me.”

            Hoseok noticed the way your hand clenched at your clothes and how you didn’t look at him in the face. And suddenly, he felt bad. “Shit, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just surprised. We normally don’t have people up here. I wasn’t expecting you. I don’t care if you come up here. Just as long as you don’t go into any rooms without permission.”

            “Well, of course she won’t, hyung. You see how nervous she is just at the thought of intruding. I just didn’t want her sitting in one room all day. Jeez, she’ll probably be hanging on the first two floors anyways. That’s where all the fun is.”

            Hobi threw his hands up in defeat. “Alright, Taehyungie, I get it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. Y/N, I’m sorry. I was just surprised. It’s been a long morning.” You nodded your head in confirmation.

            “Now to a better point. What were you doing?” Taehyung fixed his hyung with an accusing look and a smirk from behind you. As if I can’t guess.

            Hobi frowned back at Taehyung before pushing his hand through his hair to tidy himself back up. “I was making sure Hyung went to rest and not back to work. You know how Yoongi-hyung can be when he’s away from his screens. He took some convincing but he’s asleep now in his room. And I,” he fished a key from the pocket of his jeans, “stole the key to the Genius Lab so he won’t be tempted to sneak in and work. He should be out for a few hours. He may skip lunch for now, but I’ll make sure he eats before he needs to have his next dosage for you.” He smiled brightly at you. “So, what do you think of the Magic Shop?”

            “It’s incredible. You guys must have really worked hard to make it so beautiful.”

            “Yeah, it took a few years to get right. But it’s been such a great sanctuary for us. Tell you what, I need to go into town for a bit. I’m sure Taehyung has told you about the dance studio if he’s showing off all his side work. I need to pick up Jimin. He apparently was called in this morning to help with some minor things but he’s not feeling too well to drive back alone. But when I get home, I’ll show you something we’ve been working on with the kids in our class. It’s really fun. Then we can all have lunch.” Hobi moved past you two, making sure to greet Tannie with a series of silly voices and pets.

            Taehyung gave his hyung a confused look. “Is Minnie okay?”

            “Yeah, he’s fine. It’s just about the end of the month. I’m sure he’s gonna try to push it off again.” Realization dawned on Taehyung and he smacked his head for overlooking it with everything going on. You didn’t ask what they meant since it really wasn’t your business. Perhaps it was just some stress related thing that focused on his time of the month. You were sure with everything going on, Bangtan must push themselves too far and that leads to poor health. If Jimin was sick, you would be happy to check him out since you were there to be an in-home care. It would give you something else to focus on. The two said goodbye and Hobi dashed down the stairs.

            “Come on, let’s take Tannie out in the courtyard and I’ll show you some more of pieces on the way.

            You happily followed him, chasing after the positive feeling you had earlier. Your anxieties had been growing more difficult to contain. It must be because you weren’t taking your medicine. You were hoping Dr. Na would have been helpful in finding out what it was so you could get back on track. But with everything that happened back at the hospital, you hadn’t been so lucky. You didn’t even turn in the script he had given you for a mild antianxiety medication to take in its place because you were still so mad at him and hurt. And yet, here you were with the people who ruined him for you, acting like they were your friend. All these feelings and emotions were confusing.

            As you arrived back on the second floor and at the landing of the familiar staircase, you both could hear someone walking around, pacing by the sounds of it. At first, you thought it was Hoseok again, but Namjoon’s voice could be heard just a harsh whisper. Whoever he was talking to, he was not happy about something.

            “I can’t believe you are trying to blow me off right now. How is that fair? My family needs security. Didn’t you say it would only take you a few hours? I know I got the dates mixed up but that shouldn’t matter to you. If you haven’t noticed, my family’s been in a bit of chaos recently and you were supposed to help ease some of my tension with information. At least tell me what you do have. What do you mean you aren’t done with your initial check? Why isn’t it done? I’m sure you’re busy, but you owe me!” The closer the two of you got to the stairs, the more you could pick up the frustration in Namjoon’s voice. He walked from a hallway near the bottom of the stairs, phone raised to his ear. He had changed from his morning clothes into a pair of jeans and a blue sweater, something more presentable. He didn’t seem aware of the two of you, so engrossed with his conversation. His eyes were narrow behind his glasses. He was agitated in a way you hadn’t seen since he saved you from Choi the first time. And you were not a fan of seeing him angry. “You said you’d come today and now you’re flaking out on me when I need you? That’s really great, Jackson. No, I am not overreacting. I trusted my gut to a point, but I need hard facts here. I needed them yesterday. Just go with it? Jackson, they’re in my house now, and you’re telling me to go with it?! No, two days is not okay! Don’t make me chase you down, you son of a bitch.” He let out a growl that didn’t fit with his current image. Taehyung didn’t like how mad his leader was getting. The younger knew full well what Namjoon was so angry about and he wished he hadn’t used a flighty character like Jackson to do something Tae could have easily done. But he knew that Namjoon needed an outsider’s opinion. “Fucking fine, how long? You better be here in two days or so help me…,” he let the person on the other end of the phone fill in the blank before he ended the call with a huff.

            Taehyung took the opportunity to clear his throat to announce your presence, which startled Joon more than he would have liked. It took him a second before he let his emotions slip back behind the mask of a calm leader you had come to expect. You were aware that Tae was standing closer to you than before, like he was securing your place next to him.

            “Everything ok, hyung?”

            “Yeah, sorry, didn’t see you there. How much did you hear?”

            “Just you getting mad. But don’t worry, it’s all good.” You gather that Taehyung knew exactly what Namjoon was wanting from this Jackson person but didn’t want to explain it to you. He grabbed your hand with his free one and pulled you down the stairs. “Y/N got to meet Tannie. We know how much he doesn’t like new people and, guess what, he likes her. How great is that? He never likes people other than you guys so quickly. He must know she’s a good person.”

            You weren’t sure what else that was supposed mean, but it made the wheels in Namjoon’s head start to turn. Was that conversation about you? Did he not trust you in his home? Then why had they discussed bringing you here? He had hesitated back when Taehyung had mentioned showing you around the house. You knew they wanted to be careful, but wasn’t it their idea to bring you in? Why would he be so concerned now? You remember that he was supposed to talk to you about it before bringing you here but had forgotten. Was it more than just easing you into this that he wanted to talk about? Maybe this was a mistake? Or were you just overthinking things again?

            “Well, I’m taking Y/N to the courtyard. Don’t let Jackson mess you up. You’re smarter than him anyways. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

            You started to follow Taehyung back down the hall. As you passed, you could tell that Namjoon was struggling with something. If it was about you, you wanted to tell him that you would do whatever made them more comfortable, even if that meant staying in one place like you wanted to with Hoseok. But Taehyung took your hand again and gave it a squeeze, like he knew you were overthinking things again. “Wait a second,” Namjoon said, voice sounding like he had come to a firm decision.

            The two of you stopped and looked back at Bangtan’s leader. He took a deep breath. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here. And I mean it when I say welcome to our home. This is a bit new for us but considering the circumstances, this is the best option. Jin and I had been talking before about what happens when you come here, and both agree that we want you to be comfortable and not worried about anything. So, that being said, we came to an agreement about something very important. And I’ll let you decide what happens here. I know you said you want us to keep the darker side of our work away from you, and we have tried to respect that as much as possible. Being in our home may make that a bit more challenging. But we are still willing to do that if you want us to. But if you want, this may make being here a whole lot easier and may clear up some of those hesitations about us you may have,”

            You were willing to listen to what he had to say. “What is it?”

            “Yeah, hyung,” Taehyung said, tentatively, unsure of where this was going. “What do you mean? I don’t think we’ve talked about whatever this is.”

            “We haven’t Tae. But Jin-hyung and I talked about it before and based on some gut feelings, this may be for the best for everyone. But it ultimately falls on Y/N to decide. Jin would like to say ‘hello’ to you. He’s in his lab.”

            “Lab?” You had heard them mention a lab many times but you didn’t think that’s what it was. But by the way that Taehyung reacted to and, and how he had mentioned how you wouldn’t want to go down there, made you realize this was more than that.

            “Namjoon-hyung, are you sure about that?”

            He waved Taehyung off. “Like I said, this may make things for you much easier to understand and take some fear of us away. But if you prefer, we can just ignore it fully. But if you are willing, Jin-hyung would like to show you something in his lab. Jin-hyung does a lot of research and is working on something very important that may change how you see us. But it’s important. But if you don’t want to, I’ll understand, and we’ll keep pretending like nothing has changed. I give you control.”

            You hadn’t had much control over the life you could remember. Leaving your ex and choosing to help Bangtan was really the first taste of control you had, and it was still scary. Maybe being in the dark was a good option. But them allowing you to have a say really meant a lot to you. The fear of what you would find out started to be outweighed by the prospect of clarity. But what if they were wrong? Was it better to stay in the dark? You started to wring your hands together. You had already started to change your view of them since Yoongi had talked about his past and Taehyung had showed you things you would have never thought you’d come to see from them. Was that enough to trust that Namjoon was doing what he thought was best? Looking into his eyes, you saw only patience as he allowed you time to process all the thoughts and feelings.

            You took a deep breath. “I hope this goes the way you planned.”

                                       ****************************

            As you followed in step behind Namjoon and Taehyung, with Yeontan held comfortably in the younger’s hand, in a darkened tunnel, you were really hoping that this would go the way Namjoon had hoped. They had taken you from the front foyer where you had started and down the same hall that led to the kitchen. You had been so had been so distracted by the pictures on the wall that you hadn’t noticed that there was an arched door to the left just before you reached the end of the hall. Namjoon pressed his thumb against a scanner on the doorknob and the sound of multiple heavy locks snapped open echoed against the walls. The door swung open to a granite stairway that was dimly lit. Namjoon had explained that this used to take guests down to the old train platform before they renovated it. When they had first taken residence, it had been so ill-kempt and dilapidated that they worried the tunnels would collapse. Most of the platforms and tunnels had been sealed and closed off. And a few that were in good condition were converted into something useful. But the biggest had been designated as Jin’s personal work area. At the bottom of the staircase, you could see the old remnants of the old train tunnels and platforms. The tunnel was dimly lit but you could still see the curve of the arched ceiling, the old support beams, the drop off from the platform to the old rail ways. Claustrophobia started to tighten its fingers around your throat, and your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag in some way to ground yourself. You were sure that anyone who had stumbled into here would have found it abandoned and unsafe. Which, in hindsight, was probably what Bangtan wanted. But you reminded yourself that they wouldn’t put you in danger. And this was supposed to help you.

            Ahead of you, Taehyung and Namjoon were whispering to each other. You were trying not to eavesdrop, but you did catch that Tae seemed worried about this plan. At least he was trying to keep his promise to you and keep you away from things like this. You really did appreciate that and found yourself believing that he really was your friend here. This was a very big deviation from the plan that the two of you had agreed upon a few weeks ago. But something in the way that you caught Namjoon’s plea for the younger to trust him made you want to believe that this was to make everything better. You understood that this was a very big step for them and something that would probably never be taken into consideration. So, this had mean more than you anticipated. You didn’t want to try to imagine what you were being led to. Could it be a scare tactic to make sure you didn’t talk, or something to bribe you? Neither of those fit with the way that Namjoon had presented the option to come down here and you wanted to believe that Taehyung wouldn’t allow it. You took a deep breath to try to refocus your mind on anything else.

            After a bit, as you started to wonder if there was ever an end to this dark tunnel, you could just make out the bricked-up wall that blocked the rest of the way. It was a dead-end, complete with road blockers covered in an inch of dust, caution tape that looked ancient, and crumbling stones. Another façade. Namjoon reached out to one of the broken bricks and pulled it down like it was a lever, which it was, as a door clicked. The door of bricks slid open like some secret passageway in a spy movie revealing a thick wall of steel and a flood of bright light illuminated your shocked face.

            You felt like Alice after she fell down the rabbit hole as you stepped from the dark granite onto sterile white tile. How could you still be in the same place? Taehyung had called it a basement workshop and Namjoon had called it a lab, but this was beyond what you could have imagined based on those descriptions. It was like you had stepped into some blockbuster superhero’s hideaway. The lab was large, larger than the pharmaceutical one at Mercy. There seemed to be sections where different projects were being handled. Stainless steel tables were covered with different lab equipment that looked familiar, vials filled with many different liquids and powders, microscopes of varying sizes and usages, chemical analyzers, and centrifuges of the highest quality. On a wall, there were many canisters of different drugs based on the labels you could make out, many of them you had used in the hospital.  Two people in white lab coats were noting some results of something in a petri dish that you were sure you didn’t want to know what it was. Looking behind the amount of lab equipment, there was a small medical area that looked like a walk-in clinic you had visited once before coming to Central. There was an exam table, stretcher, enough emergency medical supplies that made you feel like you were back in the ER. If they had all of this at their disposal, they surely didn’t really need you around. You remembered Jin had once mentioned he had medical training and took care of the others, but you assumed it was first aid training and not actual medical training.

            On the other side of the room, as clean and as well organized as the lab and medical area, was another workshop that was dedicated to all sorts of different tools and weapons of their trade. There were blueprints for a variety of items pinned to a board with notes and arrows all around them. There were multiple wide touch screens with information and numbers, molds and mockups, knives, guns, and other weapons in different ranges of finishes. You could see three or four dummies that looked as if they had been very well used. One had a vest on with bullet holes in it, another had slashes and stab marks that you dared not think about. Further back, there was what appeared to be a small shooting target lined with thick glass that you assumed was bulletproof to protect the workers. There was another person in a white lab coat and goggles who was working intently on piecing together a handgun. And in the very center of the room, sat a huge computer with four different large, active screens, was Jin. He was dressed sharply, as he always was, complete with a stark white lab coat. A pair of round silver glasses slid down his nose as he scribbled something on a notepad while looked at something dissolving in a yellow liquid. He looked like some handsome yet mad scientist at work. The glow of the screens cast a pale pallor on his skin and you could see a tiredness on his drawn features. Whatever he was working on, he must have been at it for a while, or was stressing him out a bit.

            “Did I somehow stumble into the Batcave?”

            “Feels like that sometimes. Jin-hyung’s like the Korean Bruce Wayne isn’t he,” Taehyung laughed.

            “I think he’d prefer Tony Stark,” Namjoon remarked.

            “Aren’t they the same thing,” you asked.

            “I’ll ignore that since you’re cute, Darling,” Jin called out, never looking from the liquid in the beaker in his hand. “But there is a preferrable difference.”

            Yeontan started squirming in Taehyung’s arms until he was placed on the tile and ran to Jin’s side. The tiny puppy jumped, trying to climb up into his lap, crying out for more attention.

            “Aish,” Jin exclaimed, dropping the beaker on the table, thankfully not breaking. “Taehyung why is Yeontan in my lab?! We talked about this.”

            “But he missed his Uncle Jin so much,” Taehyung smirked.

            Jin rolled his eyes as he scooped up the puppy and made his way over to the three of you. He handed the puppy back to Taehyung after scratching the pup’s tiny head. “Just keep an eye on him. I don’t want to think of what he could get into.” He turned his attention to you, flashing you a warm smile. “Welcome to my lab, Y/N. I’m so glad you decided to join us down here. I promise that you won’t regret it. I was hoping to meet you when you first got here but I’ve been quite busy. I trust Taehyung has shown you the house. Though,” he fixed the younger with a sideways glance, “I see he didn’t show you where to put your stuff down and has made you carry it all this way. I know I have taught you better manners than that.”

            “No, he’s been such a good host. I just never set it down. Actually, it’s been nice to hang onto,” you explained, saving Taehyung from whatever tongue lashing he was about to receive. “It gives my nervous hands something to do.”

            “Ah, well, we do know a bit about anxiety and habits here. Do whatever you need to feel comfortable.” He dusted off his hands and slipped his glasses into the top pocket of his lab coat.

            Up close, Jin looked just as amazing as always. Your hands tightened around the strap of your bag again, just to keep from getting overwhelmed. This was going to be a normal occurrence if they were all going to be here with you. His pink hair was combed back from his face as if he had ran his fingers through it many times while working. He was wearing a white button up shirt with a grey sweater vest, dark trousers, and polished shoes. Somehow, he always looked like he was modeling for something. Though, you did notice a bit of bruising peeking out on his collarbone.

            “Are you okay? It looks like you had some issues with CrossFit too.”

            Jin looked at you with a look of utter confusion. “CrossFit?”

            You nodded. “Yes, Namjoon has one too. He said he got it from doing CrossFit with you. I hope it doesn’t hurt too much.”

            Jin’s eye were drawn behind you to his members, who were silently trying to communicate without drawing your attention. Joon was pointing to the mark on his own neck before making a pleading motion with his hands. Taehyung was trying to communicate their intention with his eyes as much as possible.

            “Oh yeah,” Jin said, slowly, realization striking him before he slid back into his trained persona so not to arise any suspicion from you. “CrossFit. Right. Well, you know how it goes. He crossed me so I did what I saw fit.” From behind you, Namjoon seemed to choke on air and Taehyung tried his best to stifle a laugh. You turned around to see what was going on, completely confused and clearly missing something. But Jin turned your attention back to him. “Don’t worry about me, Darling. My perfect skin may be marred for the moment but I will survive. But thank you for your concern.”

            “Well, it is sort of my job. Though based on what I see, you really don’t need me.”

            “Nonsense! You are a professional, and we could definitely use someone with your delicate touch. Whatever you may need, you can just ask. And if I don’t have it, I will get it for you faster than any hospital could. I know many higher ups in all the companies in the country and they would leap at the chance to get in my good graces.”

            Suddenly, a loud bang ricocheted off the wall and made you scream and drop your bag, spilling its contents all over the floor. Bangtan only moved from your scream. Jin’s hands came up to grasp your shoulders, steadying you and trying to reassure you of your safety. He bend down so he was able to look into your eyes and whispered assurances that you were alright. From behind Jin, the young man who had been dealing with the handgun had finished piecing it together and fired a shot at the target. He looked over at you with a surprised look on his face, not realizing someone new was in the room. Taehyung had already crossed the room and snatched the gun from the younger’s hands and stowing it away. He gave Soobin a pointed look that spoke volumes. Namjoon had stoop down to start retrieving your bag. 

            “Soobin,” Jin yelled over his shoulder, “you didn’t think to look up before you shot that? Or at least put a silencer on it?”

            “I’m sorry, sir,” the youth replied. “I’m really sorry ma’am.” He scrambled away from the work bench and over to you all to assist Namjoon in locating all of your items.

            “I’m sorry, Darling, I really didn’t want something to scare you. My intention was to make this less scary for you. Here, come sit over here. Take a deep breath for me. Taehyung, can you go get her some water? Take another deep breath, Darling. Yes, just like that.”

            “This was a mistake,” you said between breaths, alternating between wringing and shaking your hands to try get the tremors to stop. Your voice was cracking as you tried to keep from crying out of sheer panic. “I shouldn’t have agreed to come in here. Why did you think this would be a good idea? What was the point? To scare me into keeping your secrets?

            “Absolutely not. We would never want to put you through that. We trust that you won’t say anything. This was to shed some light on what we’re actually doing here.”

            Taehyung appeared next to you with a bottle of water, which you graciously took and swallowed half the bottle.

            “Hyungs,” he pleaded, “maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. We wanted her to be comfortable and she asked us to hide this part of us as much as possible.”

            “And we did,” Jin agreed. “Y/N, we tried. And it was easier when it was just going from your place to the hospital and back. But with you being in our house, unless we lock you up in the living room, it’s going to be hard for you not to see some aspect of our work. That’s why Joon and I had this conversation. We thought that after all the time we spent making this relationship with you that you’d trust us enough. And we thought if you saw what we are working on down here, it might clear the air and ease some of these anxieties that still plague you. But we’ve taken an unexpected turn. Just try to relax. You’re still shaking.”

            “I wish I had taken Doctor Na’s offer for some new anti-anxiety medication,” you muttered to yourself, remembering his suggestion in the stairwell. You had a feeling your anxieties were just going to get worse.

            You looked over as Namjoon came to the desk with your bag, all its contents gathered back inside. All except a familiar clear bottle. Your old medication that you had forgotten was in there since the night Doctor Na had followed you into the stairwell after you saw the exchange of U4-1A. The familiar want you felt then of wanting to down that last pill in the bottle and escape world came back. But you didn’t take it then, you didn’t need it now. You wanted nothing to do with that past life anymore. Hell, you only wanted to know what it was so you could find an alternative that wouldn’t remind you of Daniel. But the temptation was strong as Namjoon held it out for you.

            “This is yours, right,” he questioned. “I found it rolled under a table. And it doesn’t look like anything Jin-hyung’s been working on.”

            “It’s mine,” you said as you took it from him. “It’s old medication from my ex-…um, I mean, from my accident. I ran out and Doctor Na was trying to figure out what it was since the label’s been lost. But our hospital pharmacy couldn’t identify it. I forgot to clean out my bag with…everything going on.”

            “May I?” Jin held out his hand for the bottle. You shrugged, handing it to him. He dumped the pill into his palm and started to examine it with the same focused intensity as he had earlier. He made a face. “A generic white pill with no discernable characteristics. And you don’t remember its name?”

            “I don’t remember ever hearing it. I started taking it after I woke up from my accident. The nurse or my ex would just bring it to me. And then, Daniel would get it refilled after that since I couldn’t drive. When I came to Central, I only had what was left in the bottle and had to space it out. I haven’t taken it for a couple weeks now. It’s probably why my anxiety is really bad.”

            “I can find out what it is for you. I guarantee I’ll have more success than some basic pharmacist fresh out of school. I’ve some connections I can talk with to help me analyze it. And,” Jin held up a hand to silence the protest you were about to pose, “these connections are not gang related. Before I became estranged from my family, I was the second heir to the largest pharmaceutical company in all the country. Despite my father’s best efforts, I was very friendly and charming with our specialists and made plenty of valuable connections to help me in the future. So, if anyone can figure out what this is, it’s me.”

            You were stunned into silence. You remember him mentioning medical training and about his father pushing for a different career, but you never imagined he was a part of the Kim Pharmaceutical dynasty. Of course, you had heard of them; all the hospitals pharmacies in the city were stocked with their products, and every doctor read their research reports and trail information. They beat out every other company when it came to advancements in health services. And they were close to celebrity status amongst the papers. You recalled overhearing some pharmacy interns at lunch talking about them. They mentioned that the company was ran by the Senior Mr. Kim, who had been married twice after his first wife passed, leaving him with two sons to take over the company in the next few decades. The oldest was always showing up in the papers. And the second son was said to be away at some foreign school. Which, now knowing that Jin was the second son, was much better for their publicity than saying ‘a part of the most notorious drug dealing, ruthless Mafia families’. You remembered that night in your apartment when Jin had mentioned blackmailing his father for access to his assets. And, looking around at the lab, it seemed to have paid off well.

            As you let the information settle in your mind, you realized that your hands had stopped shaking and your breathing had evened back out. They had successfully distracted you from your panic so your mind could recenter. Well, you recalled, they did say that they had experience with anxiety.

            “Come on, Y/N,” Taehyung said, gently, “let’s head back upstairs. We’ll find something normal to distract ourselves until the others are ready for lunch.”

            “Alright,” you said with a deep sigh, “but, before I have another panic attack here, what was so important that I had to come down here? Just tell me. Please.”

            “Ah, of course,” Jin said, reaching over to a drawer and pulling out a small clear container. Inside, you could see several small, heart -shaped, pink tablets, no bigger than a breath mint. You had seen the news, read the papers, heard the doctors talking about it. That was U4-1A, Euphoria. When the first few cases had started coming into your ER, you were told to check and see if they had those heart-shaped pills on them, though you had never seen them. The distinct pink color was, also, a dead giveaway; it was the same color the user’s irises turned when they were high on the addictively deadly substance. The few times you had been in the room with some of the addicts that Doctor Na was working with, you recalled a rose-colored ring on the edges of their eyes that seemed so unnatural. Your stomach twisted at the thought of Henry taking the drug from Namjoon when he was supposed to be helping people. He couldn’t even deny it. “You know what this is?”

            “Why the hell would you show that to me?! I asked for one thing. I could look past some things, try to ignore things. Like I could ignore the amount of money coming and going. I could ignore the weapons, or any other reminders. But I asked specificity for this not be mentioned.”

            “Darling,” Jin chided in an amused tone, “I just asked what this was.”

            “Are you fucking for real? It’s Euphoria…”

            “Wrong,” Jin interrupted as he reached out and tapped you on the nose, completely taking you off guard and disarming you. “This isn’t Euphoria, or U4-1A. This is Euphoric. U4-1C.”

            Never heard of that. “Okay. So, what? It’s a knock off?”

            Jin looked offended. “A knock off. My dear, like me, it’s an original that others fail to compare to. It is the only one of its kind and so important to the work we do here. And before you insinuate, no, it is not what started this addict epidemic. The ones who have that despicable honor are Ji and the Royals. This” he held it up to you again so you could see it was more closely shaped like a triangle, “is my solution to it. For the past five or six years now, I have been secretly working on a counter agent to make that horrid drug obsolete and save the people who either willing or unwilling were made to take it. This is going to be the antidote. It’s not finished fully. I haven’t been able to fully identify the exact formula the Royals use. And it’s not an instant cure. But introducing this to someone going through withdrawals, instead of to induce a sexual release, the addict would just need to exert themselves another way, like exercise or something else that released the pleasure signal in the brain. It takes a lot of time and constant dosing but I’ve gotten it to where after so long it can be tapered off from every day to once a month, and soon only once every other month. I am making a cure. And we pass it out to those in need. That’s what I wanted you to see. That we aren’t the bad guys. Well… at least not for this.”

            You let his words absorb and you felt like you had been doused with cold water. So, when Hwasa cornered Namjoon in the hallway of the hospital and took something from his pocket and mentioned ‘someone will find your kindness absolutely… euphoric’, she was taking an antidote to someone addict to U4-1A? That means…what Namjoon had given Henry, what Henry had used for his patients, what he couldn’t talk about was that he was accepting a possible progressive treatment for the poor souls in the hospital. He was, indeed, a good person. And you had thought the worst of him. Any time he tried to talk to you, you’d run in the other direction. You blocked his number and deleted any trace in your phone. You had thrown away everything because you didn’t want to believe him when he had begged you to trust him. 

            “Oh my god,” was all you could say as your head fell into your hands. “I have made a total ass of myself.” Was there a chance Henry would listen to your apology after all of that?

            “You see,” Taehyung said, “I told you we knew the damage Euphoria does to people. We’ve been trying to fight this.”

            “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Like that night in the car?”       

            “It’s still a work in progress and a secret,” Namjoon said. “Only a few gangs that have proven trustworthy know we supply it. And they distribute it within their own territory. Or, in the case of your doctor friend, those who did us a great service. We did intimidate him into silence. Which was what you must have seen. Can’t say I blame you for what you thought based on what it looked like. He’d get more if he stayed silent. We don’t want our name attached to it just yet. The Royals already want us dead based on our past with them and our part in the Great War. If they knew what Jin-hyung was doing, it would a bigger target on our backs. But once it’s completely finished, then we’ll openly distribute it to the hospitals and clinics. But we hope that you understand the importance of this secret for us. It’s more than just our lives at risk if the wrong people get word of it. And if Choi already thinks that you’re with us, imagine how much worse it will be when he finds out that we are destroying yet another income for them. Do you understand, Y/N?”

            “This whole time, you’ve been doing a great feat and I’ve been so focused on the rumors. You really are the good guys trying to help?”

            “We’re really good at hiding ourselves. We’ve had years of practice showing the persona we want people to believe.

            “Yeah,” Taehyung said with a cheeky grin, “I mean look at Namjoon-hyung. He puts on a persona that he’s smooth when, in reality, he’s a giant dork who breaks everything he touches.”

            “I’ll break you, you fucking brat.”

            Jin reached out and knocked both of them upside the head. “Language!”

            And you laughed. You laughed without the weight of anxiety or fear weighing you down. For the first time, you felt like you were truly safe.

                                                    ****************************

            The next couple of days went by in a pleasant way, falling into a simple routine that you started to look forward to. One of them would pick you up in the morning, making sure to stop by Holli’s Café for a morning caffeine fix, before taking different ways to the Magic Shop that ensured you were still none-the-wiser as to how to get there. Once there, you would find Yoongi either waiting in the kitchen for you or in the expansive gym where you would start with his rehabilitation exercises after you checked and redressed his wounded shoulder. Now that Yoongi was home, there was a difference from the person at the hospital. He was still quiet but much more open to conversations and approachable. The conversations between the two of you were deep and easy like the ones you had with Amber. And you looked forward to them. There was one time you had made a stupid joke that had made him laugh freely. And that felt like a simple accomplishment that warmed you up. And you couldn’t help but find his laugh adorable. One morning, he brought you to his ‘Genius Lab’. According to the others, it was incredibly rare that he even mentioned his safe haven to outsiders, let alone let them see it. But he had made an exception for you.

            The Genius Lab was more like an office where Yoongi spent a good deal of time juggling between work, reflection, and solitude when the world became too much. The space suited his style; grey walls with dark accents and floors, a sleek black desk with three large monitors and computer equipment. Opposite the desk was a long black leather couch that looked quite comfortable. And the room was completely soundproof. When he had brought you into the Genius Lab, he showed off some of his work. You watched as he pulled up different views of various streets all over Central, some storefronts where he pointed out Bangtan’s hired help stationed out front, and the exteriors of the hospital popped up on the screens. You were very thankful that they were still monitoring your workplace. Yoongi tapped on a few keys and different angles of your apartment appeared across the screens, both outside and inside. He played back your morning; Hobi pulling up in a nondescript black car, him swaying to the music in his earpiece as he rode the elevator up, to letting himself into your apartment and waiting for you with Holli’s coffee in his hand. You remembered Taehyung telling you about the cameras they put in your apartment that first morning. While you thought it would be more invasive, you found comfort in his watchfulness.

            This morning had started as usual; Jin had come to pick you up this time to bring you to the Magic Shop. The only one you hadn’t seen since arriving at the Magic Shop was Jimin. He hadn’t appeared at lunch the first day as you expected. You shrugged it off, remembering that Hobi had mentioned he hadn’t been feeling well. But you still hadn’t seen or heard from him. The drive over to the Magic Shop was as winding and secretive as always. Though they had started going in a different way. From the street, it looked as if he had pulled up to an abandoned auto mechanic gas station in the lower section of town. At the touch of a button on the dashboard, a spray-painted door rolled open to a dark tunnel that ended at the parking level of the Magic Shop. You wanted to question how the construction worked or how it had remained secret but decided against it.

            As you ascended the spiral staircase after Jin, that was where the morning took an unusual turn.

            When you stepped into the large front foyer, you were greeted by the sounds of a struggle. Instinctually, you grabbed ahold of Jin’s arm and hid behind his broad shoulders, causing him to chuckle at the cute action. Coming through the front door was a blindfolded man being dragged in by both arms by Yeonjun and another hired staff member. He was yelling all sorts of vulgarities and kicking out in many directions, like he was throwing a tantrum and not trying to escape.

            “Motherfucker! I told you to stop manhandling me like this! You know who I am? I will mess you up!”

            “Such dramatics,” Jin bemused, “He acts like he hasn’t gone through this before. Yeonjun, did he cause you a lot of trouble?”

            “Sir,” Yeonjun snapped to attention, still keeping his captive held tightly. “He tried to give us the slip. We met him at the appointed time but he tried to run. Even tried to jump out of the car.”

            Jin tsked. “Jackson, so disappointing. I thought we had a better relationship than that.”

            “Jin,” Jackson called out, head snapping in different directions to try and focus on him from behind the blindfold, “buddy, come on. I got the times mixed up and your boy jumped on me. Can we take this stupid blindfold off? I thought we’d be past this.”

            “Jackson, you are like a rash; unwanted, hard to deal with, and annoying.”

            “Damn, that hurt.” Yeonjun shoved Jackson forward, causing the man to stumble freely. He ripped the blindfold off his face and turned back to the younger, fist clenched. “Fucking punk, I’ll wipe that fucking smile off your prepubescent face!”

            “Jackson,” Jin said in a commanding tone that in any other situation would be attractive. Stop it, you mentally screamed. “Refrain from threatening my employee in my home before I let him show you why he’s one of our best. Be a good boy and mind your manners. I’ll go get Namjoon to deal with you. Yeonjun, just make sure he stays here and doesn’t try to slip something into his pocket again. I’ll be right back.” Jackson snorted and rolled his eyes as he straightened himself out. Jin turned around to you, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be back in a moment, Darling. Don’t worry, Jackson is like a tiny dog; he’s all bark and nothing else, and easy to kick.” Jin’s eye flicked up towards the corner of the room with a sharp look before he turned back to you with a smile. That was weird. “Yoongi-ah should be here soon. Just hang tight and introduce yourself if you want to. And if Jackson does anything ungentlemanly, just tell Yeonjun and he’ll make him regret it.”

            Before you could beg to just run upstairs, Jin patted you on the shoulder and disappeared. You had to remember that Bangtan would never leave you in any danger since they were bound to protect you. You remembered hearing Namjoon mention Jackson’s name before and figured they wouldn’t bring someone into their home that was a danger. You looked over to Jackson. The man’s dual toned hair was messy from his struggling. He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his baggy pants pocket and pushed them up onto his head, like a makeshift headband.

            Then, he noticed you. And you felt like you were a mouse caught in a snake’s site. A cool smile smoothed across his lips as he made his way over to you.

            “Well, look at you. I’ve never seen you around here before. What’s a cute, little thing like you doing here? I’m Jackson. You need anything, I’m the one who will know how and where to find it. Individual contractor. Know-it-all extraordinaire. Master of the Silver Tongues.” He offered his hand out for yours.

            “Um, hi, I’m Y/N.” You hesitated to shake his hand.

            “So, what are you? You’re too cute to be related to any of them. You look far too meek to be one of us. And I’d hope you have better taste than to be trying to date one of these losers when someone like me exists. I can tell you, you can do better. I’ve known these guys for a long time. Trust me, they’ve got odd taste that would disagree with such a cute mouse like you.”

            You retracted your hand. Jackson started to circle you, eyeing you up and down. It wasn’t threatening but you kept your eyes on him. Yeonjun gave you a look but you waved him off for the moment. You could handle yourself.

            “I’m a nurse. I’m assisting them after an incident.”

            “Ooh a nurse? What luck, I’m in need of some attention after all that rough housing.” He winked. “Oh, shit, wait, you’re the one that ran into the gun fight? And took out one of the Royal’s guys? I heard he’s still recovering from severe concussion. Mad respect, sweetheart.”

            “How do you know about that?”

            “I make it my business to know things. That’s how I make a living. And why I’m in such demand. Word of what you did has made its rounds through many circuits. Though, I’ll be honest, I’d never be able to put your face to it. And that’s a good thing in this world. Though, if you want to be extra safe from the bad guys, you may want to reconsider who you’re staying with.”

             “What do you mean by that?” You turned to follow his eyes as he kept circling you. “Bangtan seems to be taking good care of me. And I don’t mean anything by this, but I haven’t heard anything about you until now.”

            “Isn’t that the point? I’m good at staying secret, keeping things secret. And they’re so high profile, it would be easy to find you if they slipped up. There are some things that can’t be bought from me. Like a cute, little mouse. And if I wanted to keep someone safe, I’d make sure no one ever found them. Especially, if they are as interesting as you.”

            “I’m interesting?”

            “How could you not be? You’re so innocent, so different from all the other people I’ve ever met. You just want to help, didn’t know what you were running into. And now you’re stuck, hiding from the mean world that is trying to punish your good deed. I mean, I’ve been their friend for years and I can’t say I’d run into a fight with Choi to save someone he’s trying to kill. So yeah, you’re the most interesting person in the world. And I’d love to get to know you better. Maybe you’ll let me take you out sometime to prove I’m a better waste of your time.”

            “And what makes you think I’d be okay with that?”

            “Well, I can give you a hundred reasons to leave these losers behind.” He stopped circling and leaned in so his nose was only a breath away from yours. “But I’m the only one that you need.”

            Unbeknownst to Jackson, Yoongi had appeared at the top of the staircase as Jackson started circling you. He watched the interaction with a scowl on his face. He descended the stairs with a ghostly quiet until he was right behind the rogue. You noticed him as Jackson had stopped to lean towards you and your breath caught in your throat. He looked mad, a fierce protectiveness was present in his dark eyes. He appeared at the right moment. Then, you realized. Yoongi had cameras in the Magic shop, he had mentioned it. And the look Jin had given to the wall that you didn’t understand must have been to one of Yoongi’s cameras that he was watching for when you had arrived as he had done before. They were still watching out for you. He stood so close to Jackson that you wondered how the other hadn’t sensed him yet, his face right next to his shoulder and gaze boring a hole in Jackson’s head. Jackson noticed that you were no longer paying him the attention he wanted and turned his eyes towards the directions yours were on. And he jumped as if he had just been electrocuted, putting some distance between him and the death glare he was receiving. 

            “Fucking hell, you bastard! Put a bell on your fucking neck! Damn, you scared the shit out of me!”

            “Good,” Yoongi said as he kept his eyes trained on Jackson. “Leave her alone, Jackson. She’s got enough problems without you trying to weasel your way into her bed.”

            “You wound me, Suga. I was just introducing myself to the lucky lady who is now one of the most famous women in our field.”

            “I said,” he took a step closer to him, and despite his arm still in a sling, he looked as if he was about to use it on Jackson, “leave her alone.”

            “Wow, back down, tiger. Sheesh, didn’t think you’d be so concerned about someone like her. Don’t you have your hands full already? Or are you just greedy? Or are you guys taking turns?”

            “Jackson!”

            Namjoon’s voice echoed against the walls. You looked up to the second floor where RM was leaning on the banister overlooking the foyer with Jin by his side glaring down at Jackson. RM looked as annoyed as his voice let on. He was all business with no sign of the calm Namjoon you had been seeing around the Magic Shop. With a power that befitted the Leader of Bangtan, he signaled for Suga to stand down and motioned for Jackson to follow him. With a final look and wink from Jackson to you, he flipped Yoongi off and made for the stairs. Suga, silently, watched him go, making mental notes for the future before he reached back and took your hand in his. You jumped, slightly. He hadn’t been physical with you like the others had, holding your hands, giving you a hug or playful shove. There was always a bit of distance, aside from the medical side of things.

            “Come on, Y/N. Let’s get out of here.”

            He had led you upstairs, asking if you were alright. While Jackson was a lot, it wasn’t something you couldn’t have handled. But you thanked him anyways for stepping in. It felt nice to have someone be so protective of you, something you weren’t so used to. He started leading you up towards the direction of the Genius Lab, where he insisted you stay until Jackson was gone, since it was secure and private, instead of the normal spaces you tended to occupy. Thankfully, the physical therapy you needed to do with Yoongi didn’t require much space and you carried all the equipment you needed in your bag. You figured Yoongi was not a fan of Jackson normally, remembering the disdain in his voice when Joon had mentioned him back at the hospital before. You were sure that Jackson’s display back in the foyer only made that worse and he wanted to keep an eye on when he left.

            As you made it to the floor, Yoongi stopped. “I almost forgot. I need to check on something real quick. Can you remember how to get to the Genius Lab?”

            “I think so. Do you need help?”

            “No. I just need to check on Jimin. I won’t be long.”

            “Is he alright? Is he still not feeling well? I can take a look if you need me to. That’s kind of my whole thing.”

            He gave your hand a squeeze as a little chuckle sat in his throat. “No, it’s nothing you need to worry about right now. He’s coming down with something but is putting off taking his medicine as long as he can. He’s being stubborn. Gets it from me, probably. I’m just making sure he’s still in his room resting. I’ll only be a moment. I promise. Here, this is my key to the Lab. Let yourself in and lock it. I use my code on the door. Not that I think Jackson will know where my office is but just to be safe.”

            Some part of you hated when he let go of your hand to head down the other side of the hall. You had to take a few breaths to let your professional masks fall back into place. You wished your emotions would settle. But being around someone as cute and protective had you feeling a certain way. A way which, you reminded yourself, you shouldn’t be feeling. You were hired to help him heal, not to let a crush develop. You really needed to get a grip. Yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as you made your way down the hall.

            However, after a few steps and turns, you had lied when you thought you could find the Genius Lab on your own. The only places you knew how to get to without much assistance was the kitchen, gym, and the family room. You had only been to the Genuis Lab once and you racked your brain for any distinguishing details that would help you find it again. What picture was near the door? What color was the door? Was the one with frosted glass or was that Taehyung’s art studio? You could just stand still and wait for Yoongi to come back and find you. Or you could text him that you were going to back to the foyer. Or text one of the others for help? Joon was busy with Jackson, and you weren’t sure where Jin went after that. Jimin, of course, was sick and shouldn’t be disturbed. And you wanted Yoongi to focus on Jimin and not you getting lost. You sent a text to Taehyung, hoping he wasn’t too busy to help you with what he was up to in town. You walked further down the hall only to stop and turn around after not recognizing anything.

            Wait, was this the same place you had started? Why must this place be so confusing?

            Your phone buzzed. You looked down at Taehyung’s text.

      TaeTae: I really got to make you a map LOL.

       TaeTae: Do you remember how to find the stairs? Get back there and look for your favorite painting of mine. The G.L is two doors down from that.

       TaeTae: If you can’t find it, I’m sure he’ll find you with the cameras. Sorry, I’m at a meeting right now.

            You could do this. Just find the stairs. Though that was easier said than done now that you had gotten all turned around. You’re sure Taehyung would make a joke out of this if you were ever found. After another turn, you did see a picture that seemed familiar and went down that direction. As you kept walking, you started to hear voices. At least that was a start. Once you found the source, you could orient yourself or ask for help. You followed the voices, and as they got louder, you recognized RM’s tone and regretted your discussion, not wanting to interrupt. That, and you were sure Yoongi didn’t want you near Jackson again so soon. But as you were about to turn back, their conversation caught your attention.

            “Haven’t I been super helpful to ya’ll? Who was the one who gave you that info about the Royals showing up?”

            “You, also, neglected to tell us that Choi was going to be there. And that is how Suga got hurt.”

            “An oversight. That must have changed at the last minute. I can’t be a mind reader.”

            “Even though you market yourself as one?”

            “Ok, true. But you of all people should know that they don’t do what they say. Regardless, I told you about the Ateez pirates. I said they were up to something interesting. You should trust me by now. I got the information. I may be an independent player in this game, but I like you guys. That’s why I keep my ears open for you. And, I haven’t spilled anything of yours.”

            “That’s because I don’t let you get anything worth spilling.”

            “Ouch, you wound me, bro. I thought we were closer than that.”

            Before you could help yourself, you found yourself stopped outside of Namjoon’s office. The door was barely cracked, but enough for you to see a bit inside. Namjoon’s office was much different from Yoongi’s; it was a large room with warm hardwood against velvety walls that declared power, with bookcases lining the grand walls. Thick hard-covered books filled the shelves like an extensive library. Seated at an opulent and ornate desk in a high wing backed chair was RM, his fingers threaded together and pressed against his lips as he peered sharply at Jackson. Jackson sat relaxed in a smaller, less comfortable chair. They were bathed in the crackling light of a roaring fire from the Victorian style fireplace that sat across from them. This was what you expected of a Mafia leader.

            “I don’t appreciate you making my second so upset. He’s supposed to be recovering. Something he wouldn’t have to be doing had you had better information. Maybe I should start going to someone else.”

            Jackson scuffed. “As if anyone could do what I do. Besides, I feel like you would have done it by now if there was anyone else. And if that asshole wasn’t so easily riled up he would be fine. I was just saying ‘hello’ to her. And trying to figure her out. She’s quite a surprise Joon.”

            “We are trying to keep her safe. That includes from you, Jackson. She’s a civilian who got caught up in the worst way. We just got her to relax around us. I’d thank you to not undo what I’ve been working hard to do.”

            “I hear you. Glad you took my advice to just go with it. I told you nothing bad would happen. I mean, what did you just say? ‘She’s a civilian’. I truly doubted she would be any problems.”

            “No thanks to you.” Joon leaned further in his chair, his dragon eyes glowing in the fire light. “I’ve been patient, Jackson. More than I should be given what I am dealing with here. Now, you are going to tell me what I asked you to find out for me before I let Suga do what he wanted to do.”

            “Damn, for someone who said it’s all business, you’re really pushing it here.”

            “Jackson,” you could tell that Namjoon’s patience was wearing thin. What was he so determined to know? Was it something to do with Choi or the Royals?

            “Man, look. I can find information about anyone. With just their name, I can tell you if they had late fees from their elementary school library or how many days their mother spent in the hospital recovering from birth.”   

            “And yet, it has taken you over a week to get back to me. Either you are slipping or you are full of shit.”

            “Or you’re dealing with a ghost.” Jackson reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small notepad. “Everything I found fits on two pages of this little flip pad. Even the most basic civilian fills half of the pages. But this Y/N girl is either that most boring person in the entire world or she’s a ghost.”

            Wait, he was here about you? Namjoon was looking for information about you? You thought you had been very open with them about anything they had asked you. He had asked you to trust him, but he didn’t trust you. He had hired Jackson to dig up anything on you that he could. He was nervous when you had first come to the Magic Shop but you thought you had worked past that. Hadn’t the time they had spent with you beforehand been enough to prove that you meant no harm to them or else why would he ask you to come here? You knew you shouldn’t listen to any of this, but you couldn’t move. You sunk to the ground and leaned against the wall, listening.

            “What are you talking about?”

            Jackson tossed the pad over to him to see for himself. “I mean, this girl has nothing before two years ago. All I could find is that she currently works at Central Mercy as an ER Nurse, she lives in a shitty apartment that’s overpriced for that part of town. Before that, there isn’t much. I found her college she attended for her expedited nursing degree where she got high marks. Her father worked for different police forces as a high up desk jockey, meaning she moved a lot so there isn’t much in regard to early years. But nothing else. Everything starts about two years ago. I was able to find a news article about a car accident that listed her as a passenger, so her amnesia story checks out as far as that. Can’t said I ever heard of someone using amnesia as a cover, but fuck if it wouldn’t be good. Father died and there was no mother listed on any paperwork. Father’s file is just as blank. Just he was basic cop who sat at a desk. After the accident, her only known address was some small studio in her name that was set up by the rehab she was assigned to by some Doctor Sung, who died a year after from a heart attack. Found all his files but it’s nothing interesting. She did some reception job for a clinic before she came here that was a nonprofit for student nurses and that had nothing useful other than what I already had. But that’s all. No ties anywhere, no real records until recently. Either she’s got the most boring, nonspecial life I’ve ever seen, or her life’s been invented by some crazy mastermind. And I’m leaning towards the first one, man. This girl is boring and is nothing in the grand scheme of things. And that’s the truth. The most interesting thing was meeting you guys. She’s harmless. She’s no threat to anyone except maybe herself with that stupid heroic shit. So, you worried for nothing. Your family is safe, just like I said it would be.”

            “How can that be all?” Namjoon seemed disappointed. “You’re telling me that there was no other information? How can someone’s life just go back two years? You must have missed something.”

            “I don’t miss shit. Listen, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but that’s all there is. Her old man must have been from some off the grid town beforehand and didn’t leave footprints. She’s a nobody. She’s barely worth the time I spent looking for her.  So, stop worrying about her like she’s gonna turn into some problem. And if she does, you can kill her easily enough. Hell, there are seven of you, should be easy.”

            You couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped your lips. Namjoon’s eyes snapped towards the door, knowing full well that he had been caught. He rose from the desk and crossed the room, opening the door to find you rooted in place against the wall, eyes cast down with tears welling in the corners. It wasn’t just from the threat of being killed by the people you were supposed to trust, or the harsh words that Jackson had said about you. But it was the fact that you weren’t trusted. You were not granted the same thing he had begged you to do for them. And that hurt just as much.

            “Oh shit,” Jackson said with a hint of glee. “Little mouse likes to sneak around, huh? I can see why you didn’t want to trust her. Seems like she’ll get herself killed before too long.”

            “Jackson,” RM roared causing you to shrink further into yourself and the tears to flow freely. Namjoon looked down at you, instantly regretting his tone. He had messed up and he knew that. Moving carefully, he held his hand out to you in a silent plea to take it. Feeling like there was no other choice, you let him pull you up to your feet and into his office. Daring to look at his face, you didn’t see anger or any dangerous threat that you feared for your eavesdropping. You saw remorse and sympathy. He led you towards the fireplace where there were two large armchairs facing each other with a side table full of half-read books. He motioned you to sit before he turned back to Jackson. He took out his phone and sent a quick message. Within a moment, Yeonjun appeared in the door. “That’s enough, Jackson. Thank you for your help. But I need to talk to Y/N. Yeonjun will take you back where he found you. You know the drill.”

            “Wow, fastest visit ever. Am I at least getting paid?” Namjoon shot him a look that made him jump and scurry over to the door. “Don’t look so sad, sweetheart. I’m sure he isn’t going to kill you. Let me know if you want to take me up on my offer.”

            Yeonjun grabbed Jackson by the collar and dragged him out, shutting the door behind him, leaving you alone with Namjoon and the crackling fire. You thought back to when he had saved you when Choi had you cornered in the hospital hall, how good natured he had been with you, how he had been so open with you before he even knew anything more about you. He had been the one pushing for you to trust them and be comfortable with them. He had wanted you to come to the Magic Shop, was planning on telling you before he got busy. But was it all a ruse to get you to follow along? A handkerchief was pushed into your hands and Joon took a seat in the opposite armchair.

            “Y/N, I’m sorry you heard that.” He was sorry? Was he going to reprimand you for eavesdropping? Or tell you that all this was a farce that he was going to drop and forget this life debt he kept pushing? “I was hoping to have talked to him before you ever got here. Just for some extra assurance before we moved forward. I didn’t want you to ever hear that. Jackson can say things harsher than he means. I asked him to do a more detailed background check than I had already done, just to ensure I had all the facts.” He flinched when your breath hitch as more tears fell. He started to reach out his hand to try and comfort you but thought better of it. “I promise, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just needed to be completely sure that we were all going to be safe.”

            “I wouldn’t have hurt any of you. I can barely handle myself, let alone do anything to you all,” you cried. “Why would I put myself in this situation? I tried to get away from all of this but you kept me here. I would have told you all of that stuff. It’s all I know about myself since the accident. I have nothing to hide from anyone. I promise I have only told you the truth.”

            “I know you have. I’m sure you would have told me everything freely. I fucked up. I can’t say I’m sorry enough.”

            “Was he right? Are you going to kill me? Because I seem like a made-up person? Because I don’t have a past?”

            “No!” Namjoon rose from his seat and knelt down in front of you, finding your eyes and begging for your attention. “I would never do that. I promised to protect you. And I would do that whether you owed us a life debt or not. This life I’ve been living for the past twelve years has made me question so much about people. I’ve been lied to so many times that it fucks up your mind. Bangtan is my family and it’s my responsibility to protect them. When I met you, I instantly felt like I could trust you. I could see that you were a good person. But we had been fooled by someone we thought we could instantly trust before and I got nervous. But the more we spent with you, I knew it was different. But there was this little part of me that still worried. So, I looked into you after that first day. That’s why I introduced us as Bangtan to you. The others agreed because they saw what I saw in you. We've all been jaded by this life but something in you broke through all of our hesitations. We all think you are a good person and that you wouldn’t do anything to hurt us. Once we got you to see what we really were, I thought this would be easier on all fronts.”

            “You asked me to trust you but you couldn’t do the same for me?”

            “I know. It’s been so long since I could really trust someone. Look at Jackson. Okay, bad example. But I’ve known Jackson almost as long as I’ve known the others. But I still need to keep him at arm’s length or watch what I say around him. It’s different with you. I want to trust you, I do. I just needed to be extra sure that I was doing the right thing. I truly mean that.”

            You sat in silence for a long while as your breath evened out and your tears ceased. You could understand his hesitation. How could he be sure that you weren’t lying? It made sense, but hearing Jackson’s words, imagining that’s how they saw you, it was hard. But you had been so back and forth with their trust, too.

            “I really wish we could just start over.”

 “What do you want to know?” You took a deep breath and leaned back into the armchair. “What else do you need to hear? You want to be sure? Ask away. I only know so much. You guys have asked me to trust you and you told me things that would be helpful. I will try to do the same so we can share a common ground. Maybe one day I’ll know more and I can tell you more. But I can tell you what I can.”

            “It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t need to do that. I trust you.” He stood up and moved towards his desk. But you grabbed his hand, steeling yourself to open up as much as you could. He could sense your determination and returned to the armchair. “Just tell me whatever you’re comfortable with.”

            “I never really talk about this. It’s hard to talk about. But I can confirm that what Jackson said was all true. It’s actually pretty much all I know for myself. My first actual memory is waking up in a small hospital room in so much pain. There was a man sitting next to me that I didn’t remember. He was my friend, he showed me pictures of us at school. His name was Daniel. I don’t know his last name, I never asked or remembered it. He’s the one who told me about the accident. My father’s car was hit from the side and flipped. He didn’t make it. Daniel spent weeks by my side as I recovered. Dr. Sung was this older doctor who watched over me and helped me recover. Once I was moved to his rehab, Dr. Sung prescribed me all these different treatments but my memories never came back. Daniel brought me my old schoolwork, my old journals, anything that could help me find myself. But there wasn’t much. Jackson said something about us moving a lot. After a year, I could recall little things about places I believe I lived. But there was never anything concrete. No friends or family reached out. Daniel told me that it was just me and dad. He had never heard us talk about anyone else. I guess we didn’t stay long in places. After I was released from the rehab, Daniel and I moved into this small apartment that was far away from everything. The rehab set it up to help me adjust to the world. But I was like a zombie, depressed, broken. After six months, I started trying to get better, start over. Daniel and I started dating, I found a job that was walking distance from my place. All my medical training came back over time. Just not anything else. And that was my life for almost two years. But, almost five months ago, Daniel and I split up and I came to Central to get away from all the unpleasantness. I’d prefer not to go into that if that’s alright. We weren’t good together anymore. Since I’ve been away, I’ve started remembering little flashes of things that don’t make a lot of sense. Amber thinks it’s because I’m away from the trauma. I don’t even know if I want to remember anymore. But if I remember anything more, I promise I’ll tell you once I figure it all out.”

            Namjoon reached out and took your hand. “It’s okay. Thank you for sharing that with me. I promise to be more upfront about any questions I have. I trust you.”

            “I trust you, too.”

[powderblueblood]

omg can we see lacys dad being arrested? or maybe her first day back at school since it happened and everyone knows it was eddies dad that took him down?

CAN YOU FUCKING EVER!!!!!!!! i accidentally wrote 2k words on this because i cannot be normal about lacy, ever. should also mention that her father's name is mentioned in this. also, thank you for sending this in! it makes me real happy to know that people are interested in the background of the verse!!! *part of the hellfire & ice universe, obviously

You learned about guilty omniscience from your father.

The night that red and blue lights descended over your house in Loch Nora–a cage of relative opulence–your father was sitting in his favorite chair, drinking the aged scotch that he only brought out around his birthday. His suit was pressed. His hair shined, the salt-streaks of gray that ran like lightning shocks across his skull sharpened up against the light. His class ring from Hawkins High, which you always told him was tacky, tapped against the crystalline glass. Ting. Ting. Ting. Waiting.

Your father is the kind of man that carries himself impeccably, every single detail forethought. 

Even this one. He knew when they were coming. 

Like a fucking white collar soothsayer.

That always made your blood run cold. 

Then again, from the minutiae that you were able to squeeze out of your mother throughout the course of his trial, this charge was a while in the making. He could have heard that they were closing in on a capture, so he made sure to wear his best three-piece. 

At first, you thought the police car was for you. You had spent the entire weekend out with Carol and Cass– cruising around on a cloud of heady adolescent nonchalance, which also could have been the weed that Munson kid sold you. The three of you had approached him, slinking around the abandoned starcourt mall like a trio of vipers. 

Some rum and Coke in a Big Gulp had helped soften out the sleaziness of the parking lot. You were all moving a little slower than usual. 

Munson had looked at you–you especially–with some potent mixture of fear and resignation. 

“Half ounce for thirty?” he’d said, and you’d heard the grit in his teeth. Ooh. He had some kind of principles when it came to selling to people he didn’t like. 

“That’s an upcharge,” you’d rasped back, leaning out of the back seat of Cass’s convertible. 

Cass, who was oddly fidgety, looked back and shook her head. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Munson clicked his tongue. “That’s inflation. Cost of livin’s crawling up.”

“For you, maybe,” you muttered and the girls snickered. 

You turned back to him again, finding him glowering, brow all set and heavy. You understood why people thought he was frightening– the rumors of cult activity, animal sacrifices, ties to biker gangs, plus the garden variety he’s just a pervert! type of shit. But nothing scared you. Not then. 

You were bulletproof.

“You can do better than that.”

His stare met yours. Heavy, like a door that wouldn’t nudge open. “No can do.”

People rarely said no to you, either. Not then. It made you drop back into your seat like the spoiled brat you were, unimpressed. 

“What if we said you could come smoke with us?” Carol chirped from beside you in the back, just mockingly enough to go somewhat undetected. “You’d give us a discount then, right?”

Cass spun around in the passenger seat and smacked Carol on the arm, hissing, “Shut the fuck up!”

Carol was all, ow, what’s your problem?! I was kidding… but your head lolled against the leather headrest. You peered at him over your shades. His jaw tensed and winched, an active attempt at biting his tongue. You could see that he was begging for this humiliation to end. 

Despite all the hearsay, he was just some pathetic kid. And he clearly needed the money, or he’d have told you all to fuck off by now. 

“I don’t smoke with trailer trash,” you’d drawled. Pulling the tension, just because you could. 

“Thirty,” he said again, tone hard. “Take it or leave it.”

You shrugged at the other girls, reaching for your purse. “Well, we know he doesn’t take Mastercard, so…”

You had spent the following forty-eight hours attempting to drag yourself down from the paranoia that set in after your first joint. God, you were fucking horrendous at smoking weed. Still are. Everything was a threat; every sidelong glance from Cass, every hyena-like laugh from Tommy. You tried to stick it out and be cool and be normal for as long as you could, but the next thing you knew, it was Sunday night and you were sneaking back home through the backyard.

Your feet had just gotten a hold on the trellis you usually snuck down from when you saw the glimmer of red and blue flashes from out front. Shit. Your mother, your vengeful mother must have followed through on that missing person threat, because she knew that the only way to get to you was through a display of public embarrassment. 

This maelstrom of irony is what we call karma. 

At the head of the stairs, you prepared to edge your way down to the white-hot rage of your parents and the eye-rolling of whatever beat cops were unfortunate enough to have responded to the call. But police chief Jim Hopper's gravelly, monotonous voice carried remarkably well from your foyer. You heard your father’s name and your throat went dry. 

“... you are under arrest for embezzlement, fraud, conspiracy to distribute illegal narcotics–”

“This is ridiculous! You have no idea what you’re doing–Jim, can’t you do something!”

A starchy, federal-sounding tone cut right through your mother as you raced down the stairs, panic tightening your windpipe. “Ma’am, we would really appreciate your cooperation–!”

“Cooperation with what?!”

“Mom?”

“These charges are bullshit!” 

“Mom!”

She looked right through you, right to your father, as she always does–did. And your father, with his expression a kind of bemused smile despite the cuffs binding his hands behind his back, looked at you. He usually wore some kind of sheen for you; of pride, mostly. But now, his eyes were empty and deep and bore through you like a blade. 

Tears trickled past your waterline though you didn’t even feel them building. On instinct, your hand dashed to wipe them away– despite your confusion, you knew he didn't like that kind of pitiful display. 

“Daddy, what is going on?” you asked, and your voice was embarrassingly thick. Two of Hawkins PD’s finest slowly muscled him to the door, one dark-suited agent taking up the rear; he wasn’t putting up a fight in the slightest. Confident in this being a big misunderstanding, you were sure.

“Game face, Lacy. for god’s sake.” 

As he passed Chief Hopper, who stood in your doorway and exuded a puzzling kind of aura, he stopped. Looked right into the cop’s face, with a kind of seething glare you’d never even imagined he could muster. 

“To whom do I owe this pleasure, chief?”

“Don’t start this, Ray,” Hopper says, voice echoing tones of disappointment. 

Your father’s voice dropped, dangerous and personal. 

“Now, Jim–you really think that’s a fair thing to say to a man in handcuffs? Because it looks like somebody already got the jump on me.” 

“This doesn’t end well for either of you, you know that.”

“Well, you be sure to pass that along to Al Munson next time you see him.”

Munson. Your blood chilled and you instinctively grabbed for your mother’s arm, before she could start after them. 

“This is insane! This is in-sane– my husband is a beloved member of this community and–”

“Mom,” you said, rounding on her with a vice grip. Tears sparkled on the very precipice of your lashes but you willed them not to drop. “Keep that up and you’ll be in that squad car with him. You want that?” 

She exhaled, and you loosened your hand to stroke her arm– attempting to approximate something like comfort. Not like either of you were any good at it. Snapping back around to where Hopper was just vacating your porch, you followed him and called, “When can we see him?”

“After questioning,” Hopper grumbled back, looking over his shoulder to size you up. He paused. Pulled out a cigarette. “Calm your mother down. But bring a lawyer.”

“Surely we don’t–” you started, but he steamrolled you. 

“Bring. A lawyer.”

Eyes followed your father to the squad car, with its offending flashing lights making a mardi gras mockery of this moment of shock. Something wasn’t right– something really wasn’t right, but you couldn’t yet put your finger on it. Your mom wasn’t wrong; your father was an upstanding member of the community. A real estate mogul (as much as one can be in small town Indiana), a philanthropist, a generous investor… 

Yours weren’t the only eyes watching from a porch. The surrounding neighbors had likely caught the reflections of the lights in their evening glasses of cabernet and come out for a peep– police cars were a rare sight in Loch Nora. So rare, it begot rubbernecking. 

Your stomach leadened. In your minds eye, you saw the Hawkins’ phone tree light up like Christmas. News of this would have reached your homeroom by morning. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck– and that haunting of a name ringing in your ears. You be sure to pass that along to Al Munson next time you see him. 

It keeps on fucking ringing as you screech into an empty spot in the parking lot, leaving your car skewed over two spaces. You didn’t care, you hadn’t slept, you couldn’t think about anything else other than your poor father in that questioning room and your poor mother crying her eyes out over a bottle of beaujolais no matter how much you told her to lay off and that sinking feeling that something was terribly, awfully wrong.

It’s not that you believed what the police had said. You didn’t, of course you didn’t! You’d stake your life, your future, which you were so painstakingly building, on the fact your father was innocent. That he was a good man– but what had Eddie Munson’s shitheel father got to do with any of this? what could this Al Munson possibly get out of slinging false accusations?

Took exactly twenty four hours after that first pitiful day at school for the Al Munson factor to come to light. At first, you friends didn’t really know what to say– they handled it by kind of avoiding it, not entirely sure whether they should bring it up, even though you knew that they knew. And that they were frothing at the mouth to know more.

But after Munson Senior was a confirmed player in the scene (“Probably running his mouth about it in every shithole watering hole this hole of a town has to offer!” your mother had tearfully exclaimed), interest was piqued. 

"Like, what was your dad doing messing with a Munson? How does he even know him?"

And the fact that you shut down almost every question with an, “I don’t know yet, we have to wait and see,” meant that rumors started to spread about what your dad had done. Nasty rumors. Violent ones. 

Worst of all were the ones that painted Al Munson like some bad guy turned good, a victim of some thuggish mafioso taking advantage of underprivileged people in your poor, fair town! 

It made you sick. literally. You puked many times, and regained your composure, and went back out to listen to the rumor mill churn again. 

Motherfuckers. Pitiful motherfuckers. Something your father would mumble on the rare occasions you’d seen him really get angry. They have no idea what it takes to build something in a world like this. 

Once, completely lost in this thought, you ran headfirst into the person whose two cents you wanted the least– but who seemed to know exactly how he was implicated in this situation. 

Munson Junior jumped back in the hallway, as if you’d zapped him. If you had, you would have aimed to kill. 

“Listen, I–”

“Don’t,” you warned, stalking around him. You never had words for this fucking loser; you weren't about to start then.

“I just want–”

“No.”

“–to say,” and something turned in his tone as he started to follow you down the hallway; something foul sprouted out of it, twisted and jagged and angry, “that I know times are real tough right now– and money’s probably tight! I heard the IRS are on their way? Anyway, those court appointed lawyers really ain’t the worst things in the world… my dad only got sentenced, like, four out of five times! I'm sure your pops will be fine.”

A beat shuddered between you. You stopped in your tracks. 

“They love pretty boys like him in prison,” Munson finished, a self-satisfied smile dripping around his words.

It took everything, and I mean everything, not to turn around and use your manicured nails to rip clean through Eddie Munson’s jugular. 

“All the money in the world won’t save him from getting fucked like he deserves.”

A shallow breath drawn in, shuddering some. You tossed your head over your shoulder and let your narrowed eyes drill into him until discomfort started pressing on the moment, like a boot to the neck. That same hollow-eyed stare. You inherited a lot of things from your father. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Who are you?”

[ptvpolls]

sad ptv is kinda a mood today n i was thinking which sad ptv is the best n i remembered that this exists so idk here u go

also results from silliest ptv member is..

jaime!

[yj-98]

oh sick a car appreciator. what cars would u have based the redbird on?

oohhh im glad u asked... to preface this btw im a car appreciator not exactly an. expert. i love old (40s-80s) cars (i grew up w/ my dream car being an aqua 1965 mustang convertible) but im not like. incredibly knowledgeable

that being said :] ! onward with redbird thoughts

shes supposed to be a rear engined sporty little coupe. modified to high hell. i would wager the rear engine is more so that tim can have weapons (missiles? grenade launcher? a fucking flamethrower?) under the hood and less actually thinking abt what a rear engine could DO for his driving experience at the ripe age of 14. its got a lowered chassis (rear-engine has a lower center of gravity, and if its a rear-wheel drive then overall its saving even More space cramped in the back, and probably has a better "grip" on the road) and apparently has pop out scoops for better airflow.. probably for the best.

its also got a bulletproof windshield! and blacked out windows! are those even legal in jersey? no! the tire shields are fine i guess

my problem with red bird is that shes just a little ugly. like there are things in the body of this car that have potential (i like the pop out scoops but they make the overall silhouette of the car look sort of . back heavy in a bad way) but ultimately fall flat.

so im gonna look at some cars that i think still sell the look they were going for!! FROM his time period even!!

the ferrari testarossa (produced from '84-'96 and im looking at the late 80s/early 90 ones here)

this is my ideal car to base redbird on. its a mid-engine, which has the best overall center of gravity, and while it limits cabin space its not like we were worried abt tht with tim. its still a 2 door sports car with a low chassis. the air scoops dont need to pop out, it has room in the back for the drag 'schute that they wanted to include, and has the room in the front too. also! she looks KILLER in red<3

the pontiac firebird trans am (1993) + chevy corvette ('90 red c4)

this is included in case we do not want to look at ferrari. sporty! red! coupe! i have less to say abt these ones honestly

i could just start naming other sporty coupes but my point being like.... theres cars of this era with the look theyre going for that look perfectly fine in the three different price ranges (general motors making pontiac as their low-tier, chevrolet as their bigger make) and ferrari at the luxury tier

ik 15 years later tim gets a new redbird (2008 i believe) and i do believe they WERE referencing real cars for redbird i simply think. it would not look like that. and didnt have to! less is more. if you want a cool looking aerodynamic sports car then she should look sleek. redbird drawn in the comics doesnt look sleek she just looks silly </3

ultimately i dont want to change her too much from being tim's (say it with me) sporty little red coupe. because thats not a bad thing for a car to be! i just dont think there was that much thought into what the car should look like aside from looking at a picture of a sports coupe and going "ok now add a flamethrower and a parachute"

[thewolvesof1998]

Inspiration Saturday

Tagged by the lovely @hippolotamus. @daffi-990 @spotsandsocks @hoodie-buck

Saturday's coming to an end for me so I thought I would quickly throw this together. This inspiration is more of a thanks to everyone who engages with my writing posts, your comments, reblogs and likes mean so much to me and constantly inspire me to keep writing.

I got a few about my Bank Robbery fic (working title: Mutually Assured Destruction) and they made my day so thanks to everyone else who showed it some love.

It inspired me to write this:

Athena pulls him to the boot of a squad car, she makes him take his turnout coat off before offering him a bulletproof vest. He straps it on, the movements like riding a bike and bringing back memories of another time when Eddie was in danger and Buck just stood there unable to protect him. Of Eddie lying on the street, blood pooling out of him and the taste of copper on Buck’s tongue.  “I know that look,” Athena says  Buck looks up from the asphalt under his boots, blinking away the red stains he takes her in, she’s holding the medkit that he’s supposed to deliver to Eddie because someone is hurt and if Eddie’s asking for it, it means he’s not hurt. Yet.   “What look?” He asks “That’s your ‘about to go full Buck’ face.” “I’m not going to-” “And you better not," She points her finger at him, "because that man over there,” She gestures over her shoulder to where Bobby is standing next to the fire truck, his hands are moving and it’s hard from this distance to see but Buck would bet anything that he's got his rosemary out, “Will not forgive himself if you do and get yourself hurt okay?” Buck nods, his head feels simultaneously heavy as stone and like it will blow away if there’s a strong gust.  “Buck, I know you care about Maddie and Eddie, hell,” she shakes her head, “I don’t think I’ll be able to unhear you screaming for Eddie when you realised it was him,” Buck frowns, he doesn’t remember screaming, “But the best thing for them is to get them this medkit, gather some info and get out of there okay? I need you to understand that putting yourself in danger is only going to make this worse okay?” Buck repeats, “Give Eddie the medkit, gather info and get out.” Athena sighs like she doesn’t believe him, he doesn’t even believe himself at this point, “Don’t make me regret this Evan Buckley.”

previous snippets: 1 2

Tagging: @wikiangela @wildlife4life ​ @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33​ @bekkachaos @buddierights @spagheddiediaz @911-on-abc @shitouttabuck @911onabc @exhuastedpigeon @malewifediaz @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @theotherbuckley @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @giddyupbuck @sammysouffle @smilingbuckley @jamespearce9-1-1 @carrierofthepaperclips @jeeyuns @callmenewbie

[mamawasatesttube]

@deadchannelradio said:

obsessed w "civ hostage" kon. obsessed.

THANK you for giving me the opportunity to talk abt this one bc it is, if i do say so myself, funny as hell. like, i talk a bit hurt/comfort character study etc game, but i am also just a guy who deeply, DEEPLY enjoys some good old fashioned shenanigans.

SO. to set the stage: we have conner kent, good ol sweet country boy conner kent, spending a weekend in the big city to visit his buddy tim. things are going well, for the most part, until tim and conner make the mistake of going to hang out at a nice café. why?

the cafe is SO nice that it is, in fact, right next to a bank!

they are in gotham city (uh oh!).

the bank gets robbed.

sirens start blaring, the gcpd are there, the robbers burst out of the front door frantic to get to their getaway car, and oh, hell, the gcpd is right there, they need some kind of leverage to not get their tires shot out from under them--

they need a hostage!

there's a cafe patio full of civilians right there!

this guy who's jumped to his feet as if to get between all the guns and his buddy? oh sure yeah he'll do cmon grab him get him in the car lets go lets GO MOVE IT MOVE IT

FLOOR IT LETS GO KEEP A GUN TO HIS HEAD MAKE SURE THE COPS SEE WE HAVE HIM LETS GO

[!] Congratulations! Your Conner Kent is now a Civilian Hostage™! In order to protect his secret identity, he may not use any of his powers to escape. Make sure he doesn't run his mouth too much, or else getting shot will reveal that he's bulletproof!

tim, left at the cafe: what the fuck. kon, sitting in the getaway car: what the fuck. the bank robbers, who have no idea what they've just brought upon themselves: phew! that was quick thinking!

what follows is a progression of increasingly more ludicrous conversations as kon desperately tries to control his inability to shut the fuck up. the bank robbers start to argue.

"boss, he's just a teenager!" one argues. "he isn't even from here--look how much he's talking about his grandma. i feel bad. we don't have to keep the guns on him at all times, do we?"

"if he doesn't shut up about his grandma, shoot him in the foot," boss grouches.

"oh, please, don't do that, sir," kon wheedles, valiantly resisting the urge to ttk the duct tape off his arms so he can gesture rudely at the big boss. he does his very best big, innocent doe eyes instead. "my grandpa bought me these boots, and he passed a couple years back!"

"oh, now look what you did!" a third guy exclaims. "he's gonna talk about BOTH grandparents now!"

kon looks back and forth between the bank robbers. two out of three are glaring; the first one, the sympathetic one, tries to smile at him.

kon looks at them all some more.

tim is somewhere up in the rafters of this random gotham wharf warehouse by now, he's sure. this will all be over soon. he doesn't have to keep resisting the giggles too much longer. right?

"could i convince you guys to let me go?" he blinks so sweetly. so innocently. "shucks, i can sweeten the deal! how's this?"

he flutters his eyelashes a little. smiles so innocently.

"i'll give you my grandma's apple pie recipe--"

this is the worst day of these bank robbers' lives.

tim, in the rafters: forget the robbers. I'M gonna strangle him.

anyway, red robin swoops in to rescue Sweet Innocent Country Boy Conner Kent. of course, he can't stay long, but he makes quick work of the hostage situation.

Sweet Innocent Country Boy Conner Kent is more than happy to give a quick statement to the press outside, of course. he looks directly into the camera and gushes about how amazing it was to have red robin himself rescue him! he's so suave and mysterious and cool, and his hair smells so nice--

tim, who is the only one who knows that kon is just very smugly patting himself on the back for finally convincing him to try his fancy shampoo and conditioner set: :|

trending on gotham twitter: Red Robin Smells Like Rosewater

tim is going to kill Sweet Innocent Country Boy Conner Kent. he's gonna do it.

"i'll fucking leave you there next time," he tells kon, who is scrolling through all the tweets with glee. "see if i come rescue you ever again. i'll let the assholes with guns keep you."

"sure you will, rob," kon agrees oh-so-sweetly. tim is going to throw things at him. kon is so smug. god dammit.

but hey, at least he makes tim some apple pie afterwards.

[winterrrnight]

okay girlboss i know as we discussed you have lotssss of WIP's but i come to you with a request anyways;

rafe x pogue!reader based on "want you back" by maisie peters. here are some lyrics from that song that make me absolutely need this fic and i know you're gonna agree:

"so i know, that you did bad, but if one more person says it i might go mad." (like HELLO THIS IS SO RAFE CODED ARE YOU KIDDING)

"and what was cheap to you, to me was all i had" (ALSO THIS ONE YUPPPP)

bonus: "til' you caught a teacher's daughter with a dangerous text, i read it like a bible and i wore it like a bulletproof vest" (bc this is so cute)

thank you for your time and consideration bestieeee

thank you for the request bff! It definitely took me some time but here we gooo we finally have it! I hope you enjoy and it's up to your expectations <3

want you back

PAIRING: soft!rafe cameron x pogue!gn!eader

SUMMARY: Rafe finally gets to reunite with the one who made him feel happy and loved after their heartbreaking time away from each other.

WARNINGS: starts off angsty but ends fluffy, swearing, alcohol, drugs, anxiety, kissing, OBX spoilers + ignore any small grammatical/spelling mistakes!

EDITH SPEAKS: I LOVE a good angst moment! Its like venting out all the emotions that bother me. Why go to therapy when you can write angsty fics?

Some canon events of Rafe are referred to in this fic, but we still get soft Rafe as we move on in the fic :) live laugh love soft Rafe 🤭🤭

Please like and/or reblog to show your support! Feedback is highly appreciated 🌼

navigation || join my taglist || requests

You let out a little scream when you suddenly feel Rafe's arms around your waist, lifting you up from the ground. You grasp onto his neck tightly, and just keep on laughing as Rafe runs with you in his arms.

He comes to a stop just before the sand ends and the water starts. He sets you down on the ground, and both of you sit down, the water washing up to your feet occasionally.

It's midnight, the moon is out, the water is rippling softly, and you're sitting next to the person who makes you smile as bright as the stars.

Life can't get more perfect.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

"So what, you're just going to leave me now? Whatever we had, it doesn't matter to you anymore?" You yell, tears brimming in your eyes.

"It's not like we were really together you know, you didn't exactly tell people I'm your boyfriend!" Rafe says back, his eyes as teary as yours.

He's right, what you had was more of a situationship. You never labelled him as your boyfriend, heck, you were always confused on what to call him each time you introduced him to people. What you had was too deep to be labelled as 'friendship', but in the back of your mind you were always scared on how things might change if you asked him to be your boyfriend.

"Whatever it may be Rafe! Didn't you feel happy with me? I know I was the happiest with you around." You take a step closer to him, but he takes one back, keeping the distance the same between you two. "You're gonna just leave me because you think me, a pogue, can't date you, a kook? When will we grow past this? Why are you letting a stupid class label decide if you and me should be together or not?"

Tears are now streaming down your face, staining your cheeks as the went down. Your eyes are bloodshot, and your head is pounding with a headache. But you ignore it all. You just want Rafe.

"I'm, I'm sorry," Rafe whispers, as he opens the door of your house and leaves. You want to run after him, stop him from leaving you, but your feet are glued to the ground. Why aren't you moving? Why aren't you on your knees begging him to stay? You hear the engine of his car revving, and from the open door, you see him drive to the horizon.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

Since Rafe left you that night, you haven't seen him even once. It's been around two months, and you returned to your regular pogue lifestyle with your best friends: nothing to lose, everything to gain.

The biggest problem you have at hand is to find El Dorado before Singh does. It's been the only thing everyone has been able to talk about, especially after the return of Big John. You've been extremely devoted to this hunt, but every now and then, your mind slips back to you and Rafe.

You aren't sure with whom you can open up about this entire situation with. You've only been digging your emotions deeper and deeper in you, and you're afraid one day you'll just pop with all your pent up emotions.

All of you are sitting around a bonfire, and JJ comes and passes all of you some drinks. You really feel like drinking today, to not feel something and set your heart free for just a while.

But how were you supposed to know that with the alcohol buzzing in your system you will feel every emotion exponentially?

You had downed a number of cups of alcohol, a lot more than everyone else. Everyone except JJ was extremely concerned for you; all JJ did was just peg you on because you don't consume alcohol very often.

"I just miss him so much!" You say, wailing. Alcohol has spread all throughout your body, and you just have this urge to let out every single emotion.

You had popped.

"It's okay," Kiara says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and trying her best to comfort you.

"It's not Kie!" You remove her arm from you and get up from you position on the sand. You just want him right now, you want him to wrap his arms around you, kiss your forehead and whisper the sweetest nothings in your ears.

"Why do you even miss him so much?" John B says. "He just ruined everything for us. Especially when he stole the cross from Pope. And he left you because he thinks you aren't the right class. Do you not see how messed up this is?"

"Can you stop saying shit about him?" You snap. "I know what he did okay? But I was the one who got to see the vulnerable side of him. The side of him which only cared for the two of us. We could've been something, you know? But this ridiculous treasure hunt of yours just got in the way."

John B starts to get riled up at your words. He knows you wouldn't say half these things if it isn't for the alcohol in your body, but he cannot help but feel angry on how you are blaming him for everything that happened.

"Oh so now it's my fault? Rafe was never supposed to stick his nose in this! The cross is Pope's family history, and it belongs to him. Rafe's just a greedy person who only cares about the money. We wanted to preserve Pope's heritage." John B snaps back at you. Sarah comes in between the two of you, fearing any more traction.

"John B, leave this matter alone okay?" She whispers to him, and tries to get him aside. Sarah looks at you sympathetically, she knows you'll regret everything you've just said when you'll get sober. She now walks up to you.

"We need to get you to bed right now okay?" She tried to look at you in your eyes, but you dodge them. Sarah motions to JJ and Pope towards you, and they both come up, taking one each of your arms and to lead you to your place.

When you three reach your house and JJ lays you down in bed, you feel tears forming in your eyes. "I really miss him J," you sniffle, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. He looks at you with a sorrowful look on his face. JJ hates Rafe's guts, especially after how horribly he treated you, but he hates to see his best friend in this situation even more.

"You'll be fine," he says softly. "You're the strongest person I know, and you'll be okay." You let his words sink in you, as your mind starts to slowly drift off to sleep.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

Rafe is nervously pacing around his room, his teeth chewing away on his nails. The anxiety is spreading around like plague in his mind, and he just cannot get to stop thinking about it.

A deal he made with someone to sell some of the melted gold of the cross headed towards a direction he was not expecting. He's tried to think out a way out of this, but nothing seems to be the right solution.

Oh, only if you were there with him. You would softly run your fingers through his head and massage his scalp. "It's all going to be okay," you would mumble to him. And each time you told him that, everything did turn out to be okay. But right now you aren't there with him. And he craves you right now more than anything.

With a sudden impulsiveness, he gets his phone and finds your contact. His finger hovers over your name, does he take the risk of calling you or just forgets about it all?

He knows no one will approve of it. After all, you're a pogue. You have no place with all the kooks with their big mansions and their Maseratis in their backyards. But he longed you, he longed for your touch.

The last thing that Rafe cared about was you being a pogue. It didn't matter to him, all he wanted was you. But everyone else got to his head and made him believe you just don't belong with him.

"Are you sure you want to be with that filthy Pogue? After all, you may end up losing all your money." They would say, referring to how you're only with him because you care about the money he has.

"You don't belong with a pogue, Rafe. Come on man you're better than this." They would say, connecting a string of bad words with your name.

"What would everyone say? Did you even think about your reputation? You are a Cameron for god's sake." They would say, deeming you unworthy.

He shakes the thoughts out of his head. He knows he needs you more than anything else right now. Letting his spontaneity take over, he clicks on your contact.

His heart beats fast as he hears the ringing through the phone. And it almost stops when you pick up.

"Hello?" You say, groggily. You were just taking a nap and getting a call right in between wasn't what you wanted. You didn't even see who called you, you just accepted the call with your eyes almost closed.

"Uh, hey," Rafe says. You immediately sit up in bed. Why is Rafe calling you?

"Rafe?" You say. At this point, Rafe almost feels like melting. He hasn't heard your voice in months, and the sweetness of your voice is something he missed a lot. Everything starts to feel so much to him, and tears start to stream their way down as he sniffles silently.

"Rafe, are you crying? Are you okay?" You're now completely awake, ready to jump off the couch if he wants you there with him.

"Yeah, uh, I'm okay." He says, wiping off his tears. But that's pretty much useless, he just keeps on melting more and more on hearing you. Oh how he missed your voice.

There is a silence between you two, and you can hear each other's soft breathing. You missed him, you missed him a lot. You hated hearing everyone say he's a horrible person; you saw a side of him he never shows anyone. He made you feel so special, and now you feel like digging yourself in a hole, because you wish you weren't so afraid to ask him to be something more when you had the chance.

"I miss you," you blurt, not expecting it to happen. Rafe, on the other end, hears those words with widened eyes.

You miss him? He thought you probably hate his guts for the way he left you.

But you couldn't hate him. How can you hate the only person who made you feel complete?

"I miss you more," Rafe whispers. The tears don't stop, they keep on coming down like two waterfalls. He doesn't want them to stop either. He's finally feeling something. It had been way too long of being numb, not knowing what feeling is striking him.

You have had enough. You get up from your couch and start to make your way out of your house. "Rafe, are you at your home?"

Rafe gets confused on those words. "Yeah, why?"

You get out of your house and close the door behind you.

"I'm coming over."

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

You reach outside Tannyhill, and take in its view. You haven't seen it in so long, and you'd almost forgotten how big it is. You step up onto the porch, your heart beating very fast. Before you can ring the bell, the door opens and you see Rafe.

The world stops spinning. Rafe has buzzed all his hair off, but when you look in his eyes, all you see is emptiness. They've lost the charm which made you fall for him in the first place.

Rafe looks at you with utter shock. You've gone so pale; all the color is drained from your face. There are eyebags under your eyes, and you look extremely tired.

Without thinking anything, you run into his arms. His gentle touch, his soothing words, his relaxed breathing, all remind you of one thing: home. He's everything home is. His familiar scent immediately calms you down, and you start to sob, which becomes more and more violent with each passing second.

You drop down on your knees with Rafe still holding you. You can't believe you had almost started living a life without him in it. You had almost lost the one person who understood you without you having to say anything.

Rafe finds himself breaking inside on seeing you in this condition. He's the cause of it, if he wouldn't have given into the peer pressure of leaving you so easily, he would never have to see this day.

"I'm so so sorry bubs," he says, hugging you so tightly, his head resting in the crook of your neck. "I'm so very sorry. This happened all because of me."

"Sweets-" you start, but he cuts you off.

"Listen to me first, please." He pleads. "I never intended to do that to you. I hate to say this, but I was pressured to leave you. Everyone put this thought in my head that I don't belong with you solely because you're a pogue. They got to my head. That's the biggest fucking mistake of my life. I don't care you're a pogue. I wanted to make you mine, but before I can do that I left you, ghosted you completely. I'm so sorry, I promise to never leave you again."

You look at him with your red, rheumy eyes. The side which made you fall in love with him; his vulnerable side, is showing again and you are just breaking apart from the inside. Oh, how you missed the way he held you so close to him.

You softly hold his face in your hands and press your lips against his. You trace his lips with yours as you move closer to him, his arms snaked around your waist so tightly; he won't let you go again.

You missed the feeling of his lips on your own, the slight taste of the cigarettes he smokes lying on them. You missed your skin against his, the warmth radiating from his body to yours and making you all fuzzy on the inside.

Rafe will never leave you again. He will kill the one who says you don't deserve to be his, because no one in the world deserves you more than he does.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @ragingsammie @maybankslover

(if you want to be added, check out the 'join my taglist' post linked at the top! + send in requests if you have any!)

[codfanficedits]

One fucking mistake.

Pairing:Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader.

Summary: Simon lost you after making a mistake on a mission.

Wordcount: 1079 | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Arguing, cussing, swearing, grieving, communication, angst with no comfort.

A/N: Going to make this into a little series!

AO3 Link

One fucking mistake.

That was all it took for life to take you away from him. Simon hated himself, flat out hated himself. He was the one he asked you to go on this mission with him. Simon was the one who double checked your gear, giving your bulletproof vest some little tugs to make sure that it was secure. Simon had been the one to beg you to come on this mission with him. After all, you had been the best thing that had happened to him, and what better way to keep you safe than to keep you close to him at all times?

Another sip of whiskey when he tries to drown out the memories of that mission.

Simon had promised himself to keep you safe, safe from the world, safe from the enemy, safe from himself, and he had failed. He had failed you so badly. If only he had listened to you when you said no the first time, if only he hadn’t pouted and tried to bribe you into coming with him. If he wouldn’t have done that you’d still be next to him.

Another sip of whiskey while he tries to forget his own screams when he lost you.

Simon would give everything in his power to turn back time, to accept your first no, to kiss you on your nose and to take that mission on with someone else. He would sacrifice the whole taskforce if that meant he could have you back. All of them, with his bare hands if he had to. But he knew it wouldn’t make a difference, he knew he couldn’t change the outcome, so the only thing he could do was punish himself for his mistakes.

When he finishes his glass of whiskey he wants to raise his arm to order another one. A large hand on his arms stops him.

“You’ve had enough, Simon.”

Captain fucking Price.

“I’ll fucking decide when I’ve had enough.” Simon barks. His anger redirecting to John, angry that the captain approved you going on that mission with him. It was his job to care for his soldiers and Price had clearly failed you and him.

Price’s hand grabs a handful of Simon’s hair. “Get a fucking grip on yourself, Simon.” His voice is a low hiss, almost intimidating. “That’s a fucking order.”

A stare off starts, Simon doesn’t want to back down, no, Simon wants someone to be punished for losing you. And Price refuses to be that person.

“I get that you’re grieving.” Price starts.

“Oh do you now?”

“Simon.” A soft sigh follows Price’s lips. “I do, but this is not the way to deal with this.”

Simon stays silent, of course he knows this is not the way to deal with it, but it is the way that feels good, the way that makes him forget about you. The way that makes him forget about the guilt that he feels.

“Come on.” Price orders him. “Let’s get you back to base.” The hand that had been gripping on his hair makes its way back to his neck, and with a firm hand he guides Simon off the barstool, back to the car.

It is a quiet, but tense ride back to base. Neither of the men want to break the silence.

Eventually Price bites the bullet.

“We’re worried about you, Simon.” He begins. “I am worried about you.”

“I don’t need your worries or your care.” Simon spat back, all he wanted was you back.

“You need something. Something we can’t give you.”

“What are you implying?”

“Simon.” It’s a soft sigh. “Maybe it would be for the best if you took some time off, yeah?”

No. Simon had already lost the person he cared most about, he couldn’t stand losing his job too, even if it was temporarily.

“Not a chance.”

“But, Simon I thi-“

“I said not a chance.”

Price let out a sigh, he knows better than to argue with a heartbroken, grieving soldier, but Price also knows he can’t allow this behaviour to continue for much longer. Simon is becoming a liability to the team, to himself, and he needs to prevent that.

The both of them don’t say a word until they reach the base again. But even then the tension was thick between the two of them. Without saying a word Simon got out of the car, taking large steps to avoid any form of communication with Price, not in the mood to talk anymore.

Simon reaches his room quickly and when he closes his door behind him, he gets overwhelmed with this insane amount of guilt. He had already lost you, and it felt as if everything was slipping between his fingers.

Simon falls to his knees, praying to the Gods that you’re safe and that you will return to him soon. His prayers are raw and desperate, begging for the universe to stop the cruel trick it’s playing on him.

He doesn’t get up when the door creaks open and Soap get’s in. Price had told him what had happened, and Soap wanted to talk to his friend, but the sight of a grown man on his knees, begging the universe to bring someone back is a difficult thing to watch.

“You’re praying again?” Soap eventually mutters. “How raw are your knees?”

“Fuck off!” Simon snaps at him.

Soap can only shake his head. “I don’t think you’re truly mean.” He answers. “You have sad eyes.”

And with those words Simon is left alone again. His whole life smelled like you, and it would take time. Undoing you from his blood.

He crawls to his bed, on his knees, tears streaming down his face when he is once again reminded that you’re not here with him.

He doesn’t even bother with taking off his clothes as he crawls under the covers the two of you used to share every night. And he starts to think about another universe, one where he has found you again, where the two of you fall in love again, were the two of you stay together and have the happiest life together. And he loves, loves, loves you. Simon realizes that if he could have done it again, he would have loved you better, but he could not have loved you more.

The feelings of guilt and grief have started to feel so familiar that is has become comforting enough to fall asleep.

[the-words-we-sung]

The songs of Young Royals - S1E2 & E3

And I'm back with another song analysis article ^^ You can find the first one (in which I covered the songs from S1E1) here. I'm gonna do 2 episodes in this post because there are not many songs in episodes 2 and 3!

No tomorrow, Ty Frankett, Stephane Lo Jacomo and Myariag Summers

I'll be in my feels They know I'm the truth When I'm pullin' up I'm bulletproof I don't really care 'bout the rules The most cool Wilhelm has ever looked ^^ He was all blushing and stressed during lunch about what almost happened with Simon, but here he's collected, alone but looking like he doesn't care and just plays it cool. He's the Prince so I guess it's true that the "rules" don't really apply to him but is he "bulletproof"? Unfortunately the whole debacle that is gonna happen with the sex video will prove that statement wrong... (We also know that most of the students at Hillerska don't care that much about the rules, and August says it himself: they could "murder someone and nobody would say a word")

ALPHA, Yung Titties

ABC I'm the alpha bitch If you wanna know who runs this shit ABC I'm the alpha bitch When I'm in a car, I'm driving When I'm on a date, I'm buying Yes girls!! They run this shit ^^ I like that they choose this song when we see the 4 girls hanging out together. I do like them (Felice, Stella, Frederika and Madison) (putting Sara on the side because *complicated feelings*) They're far from perfect but compared to most of the guys in the school, they're pretty cool. I love Felice and how smart/nice/strong she is, and I love her friendship with Wilhelm later on. I hope she'll become even more badass in season 3!! And Madison is the best (and one of the few people in this school who is not terrible to Simon). The song stops as soon as August arrives and takes a chair to sit next to Wilhelm: because yeah, he's not an "alpha". I like that Madison and Felice don't take shit from August: when he starts mocking Simon and Sara (after Felice invites them to the movie night), they immediately tell him off. Then we see Vincent and Nils join August and start bothering the girls (throwing gums/candies at them) and they're not impressed: it's a very short scene but it highlights the fact that they're not interested in their stupid behavior. It's also the episode in which we see the difference between the girls and the boys when it comes to their relationships: we learn at the beginning that Madison and Nils hooked up during the party, but also that Nils was bragging about it and giving the experience a 9/10 while Madison admits doing it mostly because she was bored and not being at all into Nils. We also see August pursuing Felice who is not interested at all. Who run the world? Girls!!

Äter upp dig, Maxida Märak

Nu ska vi leka hela världen är våran Huh inga hinder är för svåra Flyger över alla jag är lätt som en fjäder Strike like a pro BDSM läder Good boys gone bad Alla ser rött King Kong gone mad Jag är blöt du är naken Okay so it's a bit hard to do this one because it's in Swedish and I'm definitely not there yet with this language ^^' From what I understand with the translated lyrics, it's quite a "sexy" song (with some violent undertones: being a wolf, being naked, being wet, good boys gone bad, etc.). The first sentences are about playing and how they have the whole world, which is interesting because it's the parents day at Hillerska and we are introduced to a lot of upper class people, people who have a lot of money and power. In this sense, they are the people who can use the world as a playground: they have the means for that. They're rich and powerful, they're above. The lyrics are also about getting angry though, "seeing red, King Kong gone mad": a little nod to Simon and Sara being pebbles that are gonna throw the whole machinery off? During the lunch, Sara is going to mess up Felice's family with the riding issue (and they're the richest family apparently!). Wilhelm is also gonna upset the order by not sitting at August's table but choosing instead the one table with a family that doesn't belong to Hillerska's upper class environment. So I guess yeah, things aren't going to go that well. And to top it off, August is gonna learn that his family is in fact broke! Oh, how the rich and mighty have fallen...

Hillerska Song

Hope and faith wherever we roam As we make our way back home Oh, we meet with open hearts Another one in Swedish but with the English subtitles directly in the show so it makes it easier to understand ^^ Simon and Wilhelm look SO happy and smiling and smitten in this scene 💜 I like the idea of making their "way back home" because they're not there yet, but they're getting there: being a safe space, being home for each other. And yeah in this scene they still have "open hearts", because Erik has not died yet, because the sex tape hasn't been made/released yet, because none of the awful stuff that is going to make them close in on themselves has happened yet. And Wilhelm is so cute and happy (and it's gonna become very rare to see him like that afterward) that this song deserves another picture ^^

The songs of Young Royals - part 1

[staydandy]

Stealer: The Treasure Keeper (2023) - 스틸러: 일곱 개의 조선통보 - Whump List

List by StayDandy Synopsis : Throughout history, the treasures of an old empire have always been the best items for thievery. A professional thief named 'Skunk' forms an unofficial heritage redemption team called 'Team Karma' with a group of police officials to pull off an informal and illegal, yet in one sense righteous heist to retrieve the stolen heritages. In front of them is an all-time-scale mission. Somewhere in Korea, a large amount of cultural heritage that is worth 30 trillion won and spiritual beads that provide eternal life are buried. Against a group with a conscienceless purpose, Team Karma's thrill-filled retribution starts. (MDL) AKA : Karma: Seven Joseon Notices | Stealer: Seven Joseon Notices

Whumpee : Hwang Dae Myung / "Skunk" played by Joo Won • Shin Chang Hoon played by Kim Jae Won

Country : 🇰🇷 South Korea Genres : Action, Adventure, Mystery, Comedy

Notes : This is a Full Whump List • Someone likened him to Deadpool, and honestly, not a bad comparison. Not as brash as Deadpool, but style & comedy wise, I can see the connection.

Episodes on List : 11 Total Episodes : 12

*Spoilers below*

02 : Hwang Dae Myung falls down a burning hot rebar ladder, hitting his side on the way

03 : Passes out from knock-out gas (comedic)

04 : In a fight; hit several times with poles/boards.. shot several times while wearing a bulletproof suit, collapses.. in a fight in a van; chokehold, bitten … (@ 26:24, Korea is getting real sarcastic with their product ads these days 😂) … cuffed upside the back of the head … tied up; cuffed on a chair

05 : Thunderstorm causes traumatic flashbacks, unsteady .. (@ 21:13, seriously, these product ads are so off-the-wall funny) … in a fight, hit over the head with a brick, beat up, knocked out

06 : … continued from previous ep. ... Unconscious, unsteady … icing his bruises

07 : Shot (wearing bulletproof suit) … Shin Chang Hoon is in a fight, beat up; hit in the head several times, knocked out … bandaged

08 : Dae Myung PTSD from thunderstorm … [flashback] tied up, electrocuted, passes out (more on the comedic side), tied up again, electrocuted again

09 : Trapped in a room filling with poisonous gas … passes out … falls several times … trapped in a room with walls closing in … Chang Hoon is in a fight; head bleeding, cut … stabbed … crawling, passes out

10 : Limping … Dae Myung attending to the wounds on his arm … PTSD from thunderstorm; unsteady, heavy breathing … in a fight

11 : … continued from previous ep. ... Fight; neck scratched, strangled … passes out

12 : Car crash, knocked out, head bleeding … head pain, ear ringing