#Bulletproof Glass For Cars

[dynamic-defense-solutions]

Bulletproof Glass for New Armored Toyota Hilux Conquest 2023 Model

Bulletproof Glass for New Armored Toyota Hilux Conquest 2023 Model

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[jjsanguine]

Way more important stuff happened while they stormed Casa de Suwa but I was tickled to find out that their yellow jalopy was in no way bulletproof

[backwzzds]

Toji getting out jail and showing us some appreciation 🙈🙈

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ daddy’s home, toji fushiguro (nsfw)

omg bc prison bf!toji would be something interesting.

the story would be that before prison, toji was the ORIGINAL scammer. all these mfs his sons forreal. of course with being a hired professional hitman, it came with its financial perks, all of which he’d used to spoil his pretty little princess.

you lived comfortably well. you’d known toji since he was just a bum scrounging for any type of work, so you actually got to see the come up frfr. though you’ve always loved him from the start (even when he was broke), he was nearly 10 years older than you. just in your early twenties, you always told him—you did not deserve any type of struggle love. and a struggle life toji lived indeed. you assured him that if he was really about you the way he always swore he was—he’d do whatever he could to support for you.

and support for you he did!

it wasn’t anything about being a gold digger—you just had standards. toji chased after you for years and you loved it—but you knew you deserved better when he couldn’t even take care of himself. by the graces of whoever allowed him to stumble upon a secret job that could land him 1 mil cash—500 upfront as a deposit and the rest later—toji was yours the moment he proved to you he could take care of you indefinitely.

ass ironic as this sounds, he was actually arrested on false charges. the nature of the charges were true on everything—but the actual person they were accusing him of executing and murdering, he simply did not do. the courts didn’t care though, they just needed someone to hang for it and make an example out of them. that led to toji being sentenced to life in prison.

but thanks to his crooked ass lawyer, the piece of shit was out in 6 years.

you nervously tapped your acrylic nails on the pink wrap of your car as you leaned against the passenger side of the door. it seemed as if today was release day for a few other prisoners, seeing as a group of men walked out with plastic bags, all while staring you down. your arms remained crossed over your fat tits barely being able to breathe in the baby tee you wore to accompany your long flowy skirt as you awaited for your own man to re-enter the world again.

the minute another person leaves the building, your eyes meet with the familiar man’s. it was almost as if your energy was instantly drawn to his, because you immediately recognized him off the bat. toji is blown away by your beauty. you were always fine, but damn, watching you outside of a bulletproof plexi glass was top tier when he finally got to see your fuller ass and pudgy stomach in person again.

the second he’s in your vicinity again, instead of doing the normal thing like hugging him—you slapped the shit out of him.

“ow’!” toji groans. “fuck was that for?!” the old man rubs the spot you hit him in, giving you a fearful look. toji didn’t fear anyone or anything, but you had to be at the top of that list, especially when you were upset.

you give him a knowing look with your hands on your hips. toji rolls his eyes and grips your waist, “tch, i told ya i didn’t do that shit!” he groaned, referencing the one crime he was actually innocent for. “but with all the trouble that dead bastard put me through, wish it was me.”

you mirror his previous actions and do a double take in his physique. you weren’t the only one who got finer. toji’s waist got smaller—probably from starving himself like you told the fucker not to—but his build was more muscular, yet lean. he had an unimaginable number of new tattoos hidden under his normal clothes, and you couldn’t even think about what more laid hidden beneath his thick jeans.

toji fully notices your gawking eyes and gives you a cocky smirk with the scar on his lip fully rising. “miss me mama?” a smile can’t help but form on your own lips as you embrace him in a tight hug. not feeling the love enough, toji wraps his arms underneath you, fully lifting you from the ground. with your legs now around his waist, you were finally face to face with the man of your life.

toji leans into you and pecks your lip ever so lightly. with the sun in his view, he still got the best look of just how perfect you really were. “i missed ya,” he says so low, you barely catch it. “missed ya so much. went crazy dozens of times from you not being with me.”

it was strange for toji to be so vulnerable. but his time under made him realize just how ungrateful he really was for all the great things in his life. how ungrateful he really was for you. he vowed that when he did get out—if ever—he wouldn’t waste a minute without reminding you how he felt about his little girl.

with a proud smile on your face, you run your manicured thumb over the callous of his aging skin. you kiss the small scars there and then his lips. snuggling your head in his neck, you whisper, “let’s go home daddy.”

and that was how you ended up here, face down and ass up into your own mattress.

“you gonna tell daddy you missed him yet?” toji grunted while thrusting in and out of you. the ripples of your fat ass had him in a trance. “been almost seven years since i been in this pretty pussy’a yours. think i deserve at least that, baby.”

you whine into your pillow, drool pooling from the sides of your mouth. you wanted to play stubborn; let toji know that if he ever went to jail for something so stupid again, he wasn’t gonna see you or your pussy he loved so much.

your silence results in a hard slap to your ass. “ahh!” you yelp out, leaning forward into your white duvet. with another harsh smack and then the smooth rubbing of his large hand, toji smirked at the reddening imprint forming on the terrain of your pretty brown ass. “this ain’t about you!” you can’t help but seethe out to his previous statement. your voice is muffled by the fluff of your pillow, “i suffered these last seven years. not you.”

toji slows in his movements. you were so right. he knew how much you longed for him. your big hunky man that walked the streets with you 24/7 was no longer by your side to protect you like he usually did. he left you open. he left you vulnerable. though he’s had his people, geto and gojo watching over you, it wasn’t enough, you constantly slept in fear. you walked in fear. you lived in fear.

you didn’t know why, but suddenly all the emotion you felt in the past seven years came flooding to you. tears flowed from your eyes and you were crying. but from the pulsing grip your pussy had around his dick, toji knew you wanted more.

“look at me,” toji’s voice is muffled. when you made no effort to move, too ashamed to rven be crying at a time like this, toji pulls out of you and softly grabs you by the hips, turning you over so that your back was no against the mattress and you were facing him.

swiftly, the older man slides back into you, but this time moves inside you with more care. toji’s body is so close to yours, your hard nipples are brushing against his own with every thrust he makes.

“‘m sorry,” toji whispers with every rut into you. “daddy’s so sorry baby. didn’t mean to abandon you the way i did.” you could hear the genuineness in his tone as he stops fucking you, but begins to make love to you. “can’t imagine how scared you must’a been these past few years. haven’t been taking care of you the way i promised all those years ago.”

more tears flow from your eyes as toji brings you to your building orgasm slowly. “know you can’t forgive me for being so stupid ‘n careless now. ‘s gonna take some time. i know that. but jus’ lemme in again mama. let daddy back into your heart ‘n i promise i’ll take acre of you again.”

“daddy,” you sob. “‘m close,” is the only words that could leave your mouth. “don’t leave me, please. ‘m so close.” you were begging to cum, but deep down toji knew you were also begging him to stay.

toji brings his hand down to your pretty pussy and rubs at your clit as his lips engulf in yours. with just a few touches, you were creaming over his fingers and crying into his mouth.

“never gonna leave you again, mama. daddy’s home now.”

[tacticaldiary]

A Cracked And Fissured Door

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking."

It stings, if she's being honest. Being kept at an arms length when in public. Most people know about them, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

Masterlist

"If he sends us out before next week I'm quitting." Soap groans, back cracking as he flops down forward on the bar. "Three ops in a week? What do I look like, a machine?"

Gaz snickers, raising his glass to that. "Bloody might well be at this point."

She hides a smile behind her own drink, leaning back into the bar. They had done three ops in a week, mission after mission after mission. It had been pretty rough, just as Soap said and she was more than ready to crash and burn and sleep for three days straight but abandoning their tradition of getting drinks at this specific bar everything Saturday was not something anyone on the 141 was willing to break.

"Just be glad we got the weekend off." Ghost says from beside her. She smiles warmly at him, is rewarded with a slightly blank look.

The flicker of her smile is hid behind another sip.

"Betcha your gonna take advantage of that, eh?" Soap nudges her, looking pointedly between her and Ghost. The latter rolls his eyes and says nothing.

"Only thing I'm looking forward to is an actual mattress." She knocks back the last of her drink and stands, shrugging Gaz's arm slung over her shoulder. "Speaking of which, I think it's about time we call it a night." Casting a glance at her boyfriend, who merely nods in confirmation and pushes the stool back himself, she nods at the others. "Don't cause too much trouble, boys. Text us when you're home safe, yeah?"

"We just got shot at for a week, don't think a car ride home is gonna be the end of us." Soap snorts.

"You never know." Is all she says before stepping out of the bar with Ghost, who offers her her coat to shrug on.

"Hell of a week." She comments, glancing at him gratefully as she shrugs on the warm fabric.

"Just glad it's over," Simon says simply.

Walking back to their car, she can't help but cast quiet glances at him as they walk. She knows Ghost notices them, chooses to keep looking ahead and keep the silence.

Truth be told, she aches to touch him.

Aches to feel his skin on hers, to feel the callouses of his hands brush against hers. His heat, ever all-encompassing makes her feel safe in a way no bulletproof vest ever could.

"Think I might ask Price to assign me desk duty for a while." She jokes, knocking their shoulders together gently.

To the untrained eye, to someone who might not have been tuned to what makes Simon Simon, it wouldn't have been noticeable, but he leans subtly away so they don't touch again.

She doesn't mention it, but it makes her heart heavy.

It's nothing new. She's not sure why she's even surprised anymore.

Trying again, her arm hangs beside her, purposefully brushing against his gloves. The frown on her face deepens when he shoves his hands into his pockets.

Maybe it's the exhausting week she's had, but it gets to her, infects her heart, mind, and soul with the insecurity she keeps locked behind a cracked and fissured door in her mind.

It stings, if she's being honest.

He's not the most...social person. Closed off and private, but baring her soul to someone she loves and getting so little in return...

Being kept at an arm's length when in public, even though their relationship is not a secret. Most people know, actually, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

The car ride home is silent, but not in a comfortable way their quiet is usually shared. Simon seems to pick up on it, because he grips the steering wheel a little too hard, the tension in his shoulders a little too foreign.

Gaz had no problem touching her. A friendly punch to the arm, an arm around her shoulder. Soap was a touchy person by nature, nudging her and ruffling her hair.

So why was it that Simon always pulled away?

The one person who should love her the most, who should be proud of loving her...why does he pull away and pretend this thing between them doesn't exist.

She doesn't get it, hasn't understood for the past two years they've been together. Pushing was not something she'd considered given his stubbornness and private nature, but there's no denying she's always felt a twinge of hurt whenever he disregards her in public.

Was he...ashamed? Of her? Did he not want to be seen with her?

The thought latches itself onto her, sucking away the usual confidence she carries and leaving her a nervous mess. It makes her sick. Before she knows it they're back home but she can't find herself to walk any farther than the front door that's shut behind her.

He doesn't comment on it, just casts her an inquisitive look before moving to the kitchen in view.

Simon always did like a cup of tea before bed.

"Simon?" The word comes out a little garbled, caught in her indecision, and morphed into something muffled. He hears it, because of course he does, and hums. Doesn't look up from where he's rifling through the cupboards for his kettle.

The air is cold in her lungs, freezes up with nerves, and this is all so ridiculous. It's stupid and she shouldn't be feeling this way but she does because she just does.

Trust was a precious jewel, a diamond only given to those who trusted enough to keep it unmarred. Necklaces and earrings and bracelets, she feels like she could make millions of intricate pieces with the bits of trust she had bared for Simon to take and keep as his own.

Simon knows what she loves, what she hates, how she feels about anything and everything. The rhyme and reasons, the way she ticks, and what throws her off kilter. He knows it all, it's been given willingly and eagerly to the man who took her heart with that rough demeanour on the tarmac two years ago.

She had given him all her gems, the shiniest and the dullest ones, but he's never even been bothered to spare her a piece of coal.

When she doesn't speak immediately, he pauses his movements and sets down the kettle on the counter with a 'clink'. "What's the matter, love?" He straightens up.

"Do you want to be with me?" She blurts out, unable to fathom leaving this conversation for another day. Not when she's so worked up and hurt and feeling.

His face stays blank, and when he responds it's almost as if he's doing it carefully. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I asked." The sides of her coat are clutched with a knuckle-white grip, nausea making her an inch away from ruining the lovely carpet they'd picked out together when they'd first moved in.

Simon furrows his brows. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"That's not what I asked." Unease starts to curl up in her gut. "Do you like me, Simon?"

"Of course I fucking like you, what are you talking about?"

"You sure don't act like it."

There.

It's in the open now. Simon stares at her for a moment, shocked or stunned or whatever emotion that causes him to clam up for a moment.

He never really was good at this part of their relationship, but this...it was vital. It was important because she refuses to let this problem define what they have together.

"You don't touch me when we're not alone." She starts, "You act like I'm just no one when we're out together. You barely acknowledge me any more than anybody else, pull away when I try to touch you." It feels good to let this all off her chest. Months and months of trying to figure out what was going on. "Tell me why. I just want to know why."

"I'm a private person-"

"No Simon, that's not what this is." She shakes her head, emotion rising inside her. "You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking. Like I'm...like you want to keep me a secret."

Her eyes are glassy because saying it hurts so fucking much, but it needs to be said. It needs to be voiced, he needs to listen and acknowledge-

"You know that's not true, so it shouldn't be a bloody problem-"

"Do I?" A laugh burst out of her, unexpected and short. It's enough to cut him off, cause him to narrow his eyes. "You've never told or indicated that to me. Not once. Not in two years."

"It's common sense. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't want you." She can tell he's trying to stay level, to meet her in the middle but all caution gets thrown to the wind because is he really trying to argue with her on this?

"No, it's not." She insists, trying not to raise her voice as anger bubbles up inside her. Was he not getting it? Not understanding that this was hurting her? That he was hurting her? "Sometimes I-..." She swallows, "Sometimes I'll be having a great time, like today. I'll be laughing and enjoying myself and then I'll glance at you, or try and do something as simple as brush shoulders, and I'll watch you push me away. Or pull away." Her voice waver but she fights to keep it steady. "And it makes me feel miserable because what is it about me that makes my own boyfriend not want to accidentally touch me?"

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He says, hackles raised at being put on the spot like this. Ghost doesn't mean to, but this is all so new to him and the only thing he knows how to do in these rapidly changing situations is to be sharp and jagged and tense. "If you're so miserable, why are you still here?"

"Because I love you!" She cries out. "And I can't help but think that I might never get the same back from you." Her grip on her coat tightens.

There's a beat of silence.

"I never asked you to. You knew what you were getting yourself into."

His words cut through the quiet, as sharp as the blades he keeps strapped to his thigh.

"Oh, fuck you." She whispers. "Don't give me that bullshit. That's not an excuse for not trying-"

"Not trying?" His voice gets slightly louder. "I try every day. I try to be someone you deserve but you're bloody well making it difficult when-"

"Just stop!" She yells over him. "Stop. I'm not asking for something you can't give. I'm just asking for an explanation."

"I can't-"

"You can!" To her dismay, her eyes burn with tears that are bound to fall in a few seconds, but she's too far into it to turn around now. "It's been two fucking years, Simon. Two years. I've never pushed or pressured you, I've listened and sat here and tried to be the one you can come to, but you never do." She sniffles, wiping her tears away roughly.

He stays silent, visibly frustrated but letting her talk.

"Do you know what they say back at base?" She spits out. "About me? They say I've forced you into being with me." A hollow laugh. "That I've got some dirt on you that keeps you quiet, or that I'm just someone you pass the time at night with because everyone thinks that you want nothing to do with me during the day. They talk about why we're still together, why you're still with me when you clearly have no interest." Her tears are long forgotten, left to trail down her cheeks in rivers of hurt. "They say...they say I'm only on the 141 because of our relationship."

And that was what hurt the most. Her own skills undermined like that.

That startles him enough to pull his brows in confusion "I didn't know..."

"Of course you don't, why would they say it in front of the man who looks like he could snap their spines in half?"

She waits for him to speak. To say something, anything, but all he does is stare at her with those half-blank eyes that she can never decipher and it infuriates her because did he not just listen to what she's told him.

"You know what, forget it." She chokes out. "I'm done. I'm fucking done with this." She gestures to them both, vaguely watching his eyes widen with muted panic. Getting shoved into a woodchipper would be less painful than the hurt that tears through her chest, hiccupping on swallowed sobs.

"Hold on-"

"I can't be the only one keeping us both afloat." She reaches behind her for the doorknob. "I don't want that. I love you, Simon. I really do, but it hurts so fucking much when you act like I'm disposable, like you're ashamed of being seen with me."

The door is pulled open by her, and then roughly shoved shut by Simon. He moves quicker than she could register, behind the counter one moment and right in front of her the next. His hand stays firmly on the door, keeping it shut as he leans down to catch her gaze.

"Ashamed is the last thing I am about you." He says quickly, clumsily. "I-...fucking hell that's not right at all, love."

Simon is...he's panicking.

The thought strikes her immediately with the way his chest rises and falls quickly, the lack of that cold clipped grace in his voice.

"I don't care." She chokes on a cry, hands planting themselves firmly on his chest to shove him away. It's like nudging a brick wall. The man is immovable, standing in place with their bodies so close it feels like they're sharing heat. "I'm tired, and you're making it worse so let me go." He grabs her wrists, presses them against himself to keep her in place. His hands are warm, rid of the gloves he usually dons.

She's met with every inch of that scarred face of his. She hadn't noticed but he'd discarded his mask as he'd been rushing around the counter to get to her.

"Listen to me." He breathes, trying to get his thoughts straight and keep her there with him. He can't lose her, can't let her walk out the door because he's afraid that she might never come back. "Please."

It's the last word that pauses her struggle. Simon...he was someone who operated on orders and demands so the frantic and silent plea pushed into the word is enough to make her still for a moment.

And a moment is all he needs.

"I've never..." He thinks for a moment. Never has she seen him look so frazzled. He tries again. "Everyone I've ever loved has been killed." Her eyes widen at the declaration. "My family. My friends...everyone." His breath fans over her face with how he's leaned down, hot so very him. "I think I'm afraid if I show the world I love you it might try and take you from me too." Simon's voice breaks at the end, as if he's voiced something from his nightmares and despite the pain she's feeling the sound slices through her. "And I can't...I can't live with losing you too."

With bated breath, he waits for her to respond. Part of him can't bear to look her in the eyes after the admission but he finds himself staring at her face anyway, drinking in any sign of hope.

Hope. How long has it been since he's felt the warm rays of such a feeling?

Slowly, so slowly it makes his breath hitch, she tugs her hand free on his. For a moment Simon thinks she might push him away again and his heart sinks like a stone, but then her fingertips graze his face, her hands cup his cheeks and suddenly they interlock behind his head, pulling him in.

Simon crushes her into him, tucking her head under his chin with a shuddering breath of relief. He's not lost her, not completely.

Hope.

There was still such a thing for a man like him after all.

"I'm not going anywhere." She mumbles into the crook of his neck, the feeling of his lips moving on his skin sending a shiver up his spine. "I'm so sorry, Simon. If you'd told me that before I would have tried to help-..."

Simon shakes his head immediately, arms tightening around her. "I chose not to tell you. The thought of coming home and seeing you on the ground...bloody...like them." He swallows past the lump in his throat. "Fuck, I'm sorry I hurt you, sweetheart."

Simon didn't apologise often, so when he did that means he knows he's fucked up.

She does not tell him it's alright, that she forgives him or that he's fine. Because he's not. His apology, his honesty doesn't make the months of hurt go away. It still aches at her like before, but this time the ache has a meaning behind it. It has a reason.

They hold each other for a moment, against the door, two people knee-deep in a problem that's been brewing for weeks and weeks, bubbled over the edge in the ugliest way possible.

"I need you to try." She whispers after a moment, the barest of smiles gracing her face when he nods slowly.

"I know." He says simply against her hair. Gently swaying in each other's hold, both are content to stay there for a while, to calm their racing hearts with the knowledge that the other is still there, is real and solid under their hands.

And it's enough.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Change is a slow trek to an ever extending finish line.

Simon keeps his word. If there's anything it's good at, it's resilience. Though it makes him antsy and paranoid and dare he say slightly nervous to open such a part of him to somebody again, he tries.

He tried because he'd rather saw his own arm off than be the one who gives her a reason to leave. Not her. Not the best thing that's happened to him in years, the person who's managed to wake up Simon after years of being Ghost.

A subtle brush of hands as they walk.

An arm around her shoulder while they drink.

Thighs and sides pressed together as they take their seats on a heli.

The squeeze of her knee from under the table.

It builds and builds into something warm and new and fresh, a feeling that overshadows all the worry he had about the universe having a vendetta against him because if there was one good thing that Simon Riley wanted to keep, it was her.

Their weekend is filled with conversations, real conversations about things they've kept to themselves, worries and concerns, and moments of hesitance. He tries his best, though some words die on his tongue before he can get them out. She pushes him, but never more than he can take. Heart, body, and soul, she knows him like the back of her hand but he's the only one who can truly let her into his mind.

All that aside Simon also has another more personal task to work through once their weekend is over.

After paying some not-so-nice visits to more than a dozen people (to his absolute fury), she never once hears a peep of another disgusting rumour ever again.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(26/07/2023)

[kissitbttr]

mafia!toji first time meeting stripper!reader

a/n: reader is fem. and since i’ve been hit with biggest writers block known to a man, this one is inspired by one of my old work called gold. enjoy!

-

toji zenin is a ruthless man. that, you can definitely count on.

he’s known to be the one who shows little to no mercy. who’s soul isn’t as clean due to the countless of lives he had taken.

as crazy as it sounds, toji craves for the sound of piercing cries from someone who begs to spare them compassion. he likes to taunt them. mock them. pretending that he would eventually let them go just to see that little flicker of hope lighting upon their gaze.

a sinister smile would play coyly upon his lips before he decides the latter. pulling the trigger and watches the victim face planting the dark tile as their brains scatter all over the walls and floor.

it’s one way to teach people a lesson to not fuck with him. to not fuck with his business. because toji zenin is crazy like that.

he has no time for patience nor pity.

toji fixes the collar of his black sheer shirt, checking himself out in the mirror to make sure he looks good tonight. who are we kidding though? he’s toji fucking zenin,

tonight was supposed to be his day off. he had plans. before a motherfucker who runs a strip club decides to mess with him about the package deal and had almost lost him half of the money he’s supposed to own,

he could’ve let his right hand man to handle it. but this is bigger than anything he had ever done. is this goes to south, then one person’s death wouldn’t be the only thing on his agenda,

he’ll track down every single one of the bastards and kill them with his own hands,

however, tonight needs to be as clean as possible.he’s aware of the reputation he has put on himself to the world, so no point of hiding or camouflage. yet, he still doesn’t want to cause too much of a scene,

stepping away from the full length mirror, he swiftly picks his black velvet coat off the hanger before shrugging it on,

“talk to me, satoru” his heavy voice echoes the hallway as he steps out of the room to walk downstairs, watching a few of his men pocketing their weapons,

gojo satoru. his right hand man, nods,

“he’s there. word from bianco. he appears isn’t expecting you to stop by” he informs, showing toji the message on his phone. “it’s going to be crowded. but bianco is taking care of that right now. he’s got nowhere to run”

toji scoffs, snatching a glass of whiskey off the table before downing the remaining drink. “good. i need him to see me when he less expects it. owes me more than some fucking money” he mutters, tucking the G21 down his holster.

gojo raises an eyebrow. “G21? you’re going soft tonight eh, boss?”

toji shoots him a hard glare, one where the white haired man only chuckle at. “the car’s ready?”

another nod, gojo leads toji down towards the basement. “as requested. Lamborghini Murcielago. your personal favorite. packed with 640 PS and 471 Kw—i think you know what that means— rules around 213 mph if you consider on going hit and run. i packed a standard aeropack wing if you wanna go slow. windows? bulletproof. in case anyone tries to kill you” toji knows for a fact that gojo is only joking about the last part.

no one dares to try to take him down before he does it. it’s a pattern everyone knows by now,

toji lets out a low whistle, head softly shaking at the machine beauty before him. fingers tracing along the hood of the car,

“shit—you know i need to lay low, man? got anything less attractive?”

“i don’t do less. you know that, boss” he winks playfully, laughing to himself when he watches toji rolls his eyes. “besides. this thing right here will for sure earns you a bird. take her out on a stroll, bring her home. women love fast cars” he comments,

humming as a response, toji walks towards the driver’s seat. “i don’t date. were you born yesterday or something?” he speaks in a firm tone before catching the keys that gojo throws at him,

“no I wasn’t. but isn’t ‘she who shall not be named’ is like what? two years ago? and you got to stop with the one night stands. go get a girl tonight” he suggests, watching the dark haired man sliding himself into the car,

toji gives him a half hearted smile. “noted”

“i’ll be right behind you, boss. slow down, yeah?”

-

it takes about thirty minutes prior to arrival. toji blames it all on the traffic and the slow pedestrians crossing the road. cursing to himself every five seconds, each time he stops at red lights.

he parks his car close to the entrance before exiting from the vehicle, tossing his keys at one of the valet but not before roughly grabbing his collar and threaten to kill him if one scratch is prominent on his car.

clearing his throat, he walks into the bar. ignoring the stares and whispers at the sight of a notorious ruthless man who decides to pay the club a visit.

one thing he first to notice, the club is indeed packed. gojo wasn’t lying. as if God knew what is about to happen later on and isn’t going to let him get away with witnesses. he needs to play it safe tonight.

as he strides through the darkened room to find the table he had been reserved for, a few half naked girls walk right pass him. delicate fingers stroking his chest and brushing against his shoulders, making him smirk. he can’t lie, most of them are gorgeous and he’s tempted enough to touch their skin, but he has to hold it. not that he isn’t interested, because his mind changed. he is definitely taking someone back to his place tonight.

fucking gojo. he has to be right every time.

speak of the devil, the white haired man appears by his side in minutes. nodding his head towards the area where the business should be conducted. toji follows him close towards the end of the room,

he gently pulls back a chair for him to sit, as gojo and the two of his other men stands behind to watch over. toji specifically asks for the furthest table, with a glass of whiskey has been prepared for him.

toji feels irritated. he hates doing all of this dirty work just because some fucking bastard isn’t able to keep up with the deal. he should’ve known not to trust alec to do business, yet when the pathetic excuse of a man begged on his knees with a gun knocked against his head, toji thought why not? if he didn’t get to fulfill his demands, he gets to kill him either way.

“alright, alright—fuck! easy man!” alec’s frantic voice causes toji’s eyes to avert from the scene of the crowd. his eyebrows knitted, threatening gaze bores upon the man whose pushed forcefully by his men to sit, “mr. zenin! it’s always a pleasure to see you!”

mind that alec owes him more than fifty grand, and this fucker had the nerve to walk in and act like nothing happened,

he is definitely going to kill him,

“you don’t fucking talk to me that way, alec. i’m not your friend. you owe me something” toji warns, his finger pointing at him as he watches the trembling man gulp. “you remember?”

alec couldn’t feel more terrified as he casts a glance of toji’s gun on the table, facing towards him. “i—i know, man—sir” he corrects himself. “i didn’t forget. it’s just that the money is tight right now. the girls aren’t earning amount of money they—“

toji could only scoff, head thrown back. “i didn’t fucking hire your girls. i hired you. stop being a pussy and own up to that. you should know that me and patience never get along. i have one body bag left in my car and it would give me the tremendous pleasure writing your name on it” he grits his teeth, looking at alec with a dark look in his eyes as he balls his fist,

“i just need more time—“

“one month isn’t enough?!” toji barks, making alec jumps at the booming voice

“i need more. i promise. give me one more month. and i will do whatever you ask me to, sir zenin.” alec begs with hopeful eyes,

toji finds it disgusting and repulsive to see someone like him begging for mercy. or anyone at all. that gesture is weak and vulnerable. “i don’t give out second chances”

alec hears a gun clicks from behind. he doesn’t need to ask, he knows that one of the two men behind him is ready to blow his brains out. “sir zenin, please! just one more chance! please”

once again, toji isn’t a very patient man. he knows enough to understand that it’s a mistake. but he would love to see how this one goes, playing along with this little game of his.

toji isn’t a fool. never was.

he looks over at gojo, as if to ask what he thinks. the answer that gojo could give is ‘your choice, boss’

toji sighs, head shaking. “fine. you give me your best girl of the night, and i’ll give you one more month” he offers, taking a sip of his drink, leaning himself back to relax. “no more than that”

alec nods. though he feels like shitting himself because one month isn’t close enough for collecting the amount of money he owes toji to. still, he thinks this is better than nothing.

“take your pick, mr. zenin. or i could bring one or two here? we have twins in the back and they sure are on high demand, everyone has been begging me to—“

toji could only hum in response, not listening to a word he’s saying. his green eyes scanning over at the scene. the girls are putting on a show, showing off their skills, some are pulling a lap dance on a few customers. he cringes when one suddenly takes her bra off like she costs nothing. seems like none of these girls are his type. gorgeous? yes. but they don’t seem to do enough to make his cock twitch,

he’s about to take back the offer until his eyes fall on her. eyes widening in amusement and toji finds himself freezing on the spot.

a slight curvier woman has her leg hooked around the pole. long dark haired brushing against the marble floor as she arches her back slightly. toji observes the way her body moves so sensually yet gracefully, almost like a feather. the way she bites onto her pink glossed lips and how her eyes manage to flirt with the crowd with one simple look. she has them lured into her presence. himself included.

her body—fuck, he doesn’t even know where to begin. delicious curves cladded in navy blue bodysuit, full breasts supported by the cup of her outfit that bounces each time she moves. soft thick thighs wrapped by a white fishnet stockings and legs decorated in white fuzzy pumps. overall it’s quite revealing, but it still presents the modesty she has on her. he’s not quite sure if it’s the outfit or it’s just her,

but only a fool would assume that it isn’t the latter.

toji feels his pants growing tight when his gaze lowers to how her hips moving in circles. in painfully slow motion too. almost like she knows how to tease and she’s doing it so perfectly. if only he had spotted her from before, he would’ve move closer.

a damn fucking beauty she is.

“her. i want her” toji speaks in a firmer tone, almost territorial. he just can’t take his eyes off the woman. watching every single move and a wink being thrown.

he chuckles when she swats a couple of old hands who seems desperate to try and cope a feel with a dirty look on her face. he couldn’t make out what she’s saying but he knows for sure that she’s telling them off,

‘gorgeous and a fighter’ he thinks to himself

“angel? you want her?” alec asks after he realizes who he’s pointing at,

“that’s her real name?”

“no. she doesn’t let anyone know her real name. she goes by that ever since she starts working here” alec informs, watching toji nods,

so she’s new?

“some calls her birthday cake”

that makes toji’s brows scrunched. he is about to ask why the name until the answer is immediately given to him when she decides to do a side split, making her plump ass bounce against the floor.

oh that’s why

“gorgeous” toji breathes, cocking his head to the side. “not taken is she? not that i care anyway. what a fucking dime she is. you’re going to give her to me, correct?” his voice is threatening enough, dark eyes moving to look at alec who nods.

“yes! of course, sir! if that’s what you want”

“fuck yes i do. bring her to me” he demands before gulping down his drink, watching how alec immediately scrambles off the chair and hurries towards where angel is performing,

toji keeps his eyes set on the mysterious lady. refusing to move. he doesn’t want to miss a single thing. especially when she’s on her hands and knees, ass up in the air for the crowd to see and eyes looking over her shoulder earning cheer, applause and money flown just for her.

gojo lets out a wolf whistle. “good choice, zenin”

he hums, the girl now up on her feet. lifting herself up after she hooks her arm around the pole and give them a twirl. “tell me gojo. have you seen anyone as beautiful as she is?”

“definitely not. you just might hit the jackpot”

indeed he did. toji may have made a lot of mistakes but he’s never wrong when it comes to choosing partners . he’s always careful with it.

there is something so different about her and he’s very sure about it too. from how she’s not afraid to tell the men in the audience off, putting that smart mouth to use. unlike the girls he has seen around where they just take the humiliation. but her?

she fights back. just how he likes his women.

“fuck off alec, i mean it! my shift is almost over. i’m not interested being passed around to your friends or co-workers!”

he hears her protest. toji doesn’t even realize that she’s walking closer towards his table with alec’s grip around her elbow,

“who said anything about passing you around? i just need to introduce you to one of the most important men here!” alec defends,

“weird way of saying you want me to suck their cocks” she comments

a foul mouth indeed toji thinks

alec throws her a hard glare, in which she only scoffs and roll her eyes. “mr. toji zenin, I would like to introduce you to angel. she’s been here for almost a year now.”

toji grins at that, standing up from his chair and looks over at the beauty with a disinterested look on her face. seemingly look like she doesn’t want to be here. yet she smiles at him anyway, and he swears he has never seen something so pretty,

“nice to meet you, beautiful ” toji extends his hand for her to take, giving a soft kiss on it. his eyes aren’t looking away from hers. “hell. you’re even gorgeous up close”

she won’t deny it. this man is absolutely handsome. and she doesn’t see a lot of them working here. most are old and married, which something that she finds disgusting. but this man, toji? he is far from ugly.

first thing she noticed was how broad he’s built. the way he towers over her and he’s not even standing that close to her small figure. even the dark room fails to hide the definition of his muscles through the black shirt he’s wearing. and the thin scar over his pulled lips, showcasing a smirk.

is this man even a man?

as handsome as he is, angel raises an eyebrow, not feeling entirely influenced by the gesture. “so have you been observing me this whole time? that’s creepy”

“angel” alec hisses, gripping her elbow a bit tighter making her flinch a bit and her body to cowers a little.

“sorry” she mutters in irritation, gaze falling down to the floor

the interaction somehow irks toji to the bone. he eyes how alec treats her in front him, it would probably even worse behind closed doors.

he doesn’t even want to know.

“you can fucking let go now alec, you’re hurting her” toji demands, throwing him a sharp stare. alec’s pupils are wide open at that, causing him to release his grip almost immediately and for angel to nurse her reddening skin.

one thing that toji wouldn’t accept, is violence against women.

toji’s gaze beginning to soften yet again when he watches the pretty girl before him. how her long hair cascading down her back, exposing the sharp of her collarbones and valleys of her breasts,

if only her look of fear is replaced with a look of comfort,

“you can leave us be. thanks” toji coldly orders at alec, not wanting to be near his presence anymore. he’s had enough seeing that bastard,

he nods, avoiding his stare but not before muttering a ‘don’t fuck this up’ to angel before one toji’s men escorts him out,

“don’t worry about him doll. he’s gone, yeah?” he comforts her almost immediately, not wanting her to be scared anymore,

“oh—yeah, uhm thanks” she shoots him a smile. a genuine one this time, taking his hand in hers when he offers it. "so how do you want this--''

“if you don’t mind” he puts a hand behind her back immediately to guide her to the couch behind, earning a quizzical look on her face. “i want to get to know you first”

“mr. zenin. with all due respect, this is not a date. i’m working”

he chuckles at her forward response, still she lets him lead to the velvet couch. angel sits first, eyes glancing up for a moment and see a handsome white haired man with his arms crossed. he quickly removes himself from the presence and walk out. his other men following him from behind.

and now there’s just two.

“i just want to take my time with you. is that okay?” toji sits back down, watching her crossed her legs as she keeps the distance between them,

she smiles with a shrug, toying with the strap of her bra, “you could do that while i’m giving you a dance—if you want?”

toji makes a mental note on how her eyes glow under the violet lights when she stares at him. almost like it’s so easy for him to see what goes beyond that. they’re so so pretty. prettiest he’s ever seen indeed. despite the flirty tone lacing under her response, she still has the look of innocence that makes him smile back.

she’s no better too. the way he’s looking directly into her eyes should be a crime. his gaze speaks something. something… lustful and dangerous.

he nods, letting out a breathe of relief as he leans himself back before spreading his thighs as an invitation.

“show me what you got then gorgeous”

angel swears she can hear the beat of her heart getting louder the moment she sits herself down on his lap. still, without him having to suspect anything, she keeps her flirty persona for a show.

“my, my—you really are a fucking dime” he lowly whistles, eyes falling to the curve of her breasts. “i can see why people were loving you back there. hopefully they don’t get jealous when i stole you away”

she giggles, a small blush creeping on her cheeks. “aren’t you a flirt. you do this to every girl?”

toji places his hands on her plump ass, resting it there. he knows that there are rules where it’s forbidden you touch the dancers. but he doesn’t give a shit. and it’s not like anyone had the balls to tell him off anyway.

“only to those who i find interesting, baby” he says, eyes not looking away from the beauty as be squeezes her flesh making himself groan. “fuck me. that’s an ass? right here?”

his comment makes her laugh as she throws her head back. loving how genuine he actually sounds when he said that.

“so—mr. zenin” she begins, giving him a naughty smile as her hands finds their way to his shoulders, feeling how tense they are under his grip. “what brings you to this awful depth of town, hm?”

he clears his throat, wetting down the bottom of his mouth while keeping his hands steady on her hips. finding no desire to move them. “business. your bastard of a boss owes me something. I didn’t think i would actually be here right now, accompanied by a gorgeous woman like yourself”

damn. he sure is charming and cheeky. definitely a player. “you sure are a sweet talker, mr. zenin” she tells him before slowly beginning to grind against his bulge causing him to exhale another deep groan. “are you sure—you don’t make bitches wet talking like that?”

he mutters a low ‘christ’ when he feels himself growing hard under her sultry move, yet she isn’t stopping. and she only had just started. “believe me doll, i’ve had my fair shares with many—but damn, they sure don’t make me hard like you do—cross my heart”

her hips the move in tiny circles, keeping a painfully slow pace but enough to keep him satisfied. “i don’t trust you but okay—anyway, what did you and alec talked about anyway?”

“nosy, huh?”

she rolls her eyes. “i have the right to ask since he practically sold me to you for tonight—my shift was supposed to be over, mr. zeni—“

“toji” he cuts her off, thumb softly stroking against her hip bone

“what was that?”

“just call me toji” he repeats with a small grin. “and okay that’s fair—he has something very important of mine. was supposed to pay a month ago, but that piece of shit isn’t known to be the one who keeps his promises”

she hums in response, leaning herself back slowly and rests her palms upon his knees to keep her body steady. her hips are now moving back and forth.

toji shamelessly let his eyes wander down from her breasts to her thick thighs. “i was going to blow his brains out tonight. right here. on this one spot. but he begged like a bitch and i wanted to see how far he goes” he laughs almost darkly,

it scares her a little by how calm he’s being about murdering someone. with the way his eyes staring at her aren’t really helping too. like a predator eyeing his prey. almost like he knows how to make her weak on the knees.

“looks like he’s in big big trouble, then” she giggles cutely. “not surprised anyway. he owes alot of money to the girls too. mine included”

he cocks an eyebrow, feeling himself tensing. “does he now? how long?”

“can’t count. i had to pull bunch of shitty excuses to the landlord just so he won’t kick me out of the apartment. half of our earnings each night, goes to him. saying that he’ll pay me back but I know he never will” she spills casually, then her movement comes into a halt. “oh fuck, don’t tell him i said that”

with a chuckle, his head shakes. “i won’t. but i could kill him for you, if you want me to. just say the word” he speaks lowly, continuing to admire her body. “mind if i ask how long have you been working here?”

it takes her a while to answer. “almost a year. I quit college for this. not because i love it entirely, but i couldn’t pay for it anymore.” she sighs,

“i’m sorry to hear that. what were you studying?”

“bio-engineering” she smiles, “people tend to be surprised when i told them that”

“count me in as well, sweetheart, damn. not only she’s hot as fuck but she’s smart too?” he shakes his head in disbelief. “you even real, right now?”

she laughs, flipping her hair. “thank you, toji—can i ask you something?”

he hums, callouses hands move towards her back, holding her steady,

“what happened there” she points at the scar, struggling to find the urge not to trace her fingers across it,

he shrugs, “was from a fight years ago. nothing major”

“can i—touch it?” she softly asks him, looking so innocent yet teasingly,

toji smirks, head nodding. “go ahead, baby” he speaks in a low baritone. voice so deep and flirty that it almost makes her squirm,

she ignores the butterflies in her stomach when he calls her that. and without being told twice, she leans closer and her fingers reach out to pad the scar gently. feeling how soft his lips against her skin, paying attention to every single detail of it. wondering how on earth could a scar fit someone so perfectly.

there is no doubt on her mind, that he is the sexiest man she has ever come across to. she can feel the weight of his palm lowering itself down to her plump cheek, squeezing it. usually, she would tell anyone off for touching her like that. but this time, she doesn’t say anything. not because she’s afraid of him but she feels strangely turned on.

“fuck” he breathes out, feeling her ass one more time. hearing him like that just makes her giggle as she gradually picks up the pace grinding on him, catching toji off guard.

“such a naughty little girl—bet you wouldn’t mind having that ass spanked now would you?” he whispers against her ear, biting his lower lip hard.

though she would admit that she wouldn’t, she won’t allow him to win this game. she slowly shakes her head with a smirk, removing herself off his lap causing him to whine. angel spins around, not without swaying her ass side to side, sneaking a glance to make sure he’s watching,

her hand immediately circles around the pole in front of them. “dinner is mandatory if you want to go down to that path, mr. zenin”

toji watches carefully with lust and admiration as she now securing her arm around the golden pole, lifting herself off easily and give her body a gentle spin. eyes screwed shut and head thrown back. coming back down slowly, she re-enacts the movement from where she performed for the audience. legs spread apart, landing in a perfect split. long brown hair covering the side of her beautiful features, tongue licking her upper lip.

he follows the curve of her ass, eager to get his hands on them but he knows that he has to wait. there, he spots a small heart tattoo inked on her ass cheek,

angel is a little teaser. that’s for sure. enjoying herself too much in making a man hard yet refuses to be under the spell of a man’s touch. he likes that actually. likes that a lot. it may be painful to have his cock hard at the moment while she’s not doing anything about it but she’s worth it.

so, so worth it.

“you are so. fucking. sexy.” his voice switches into something darker, a seductive grin slowly forming as he thirsts over her. “must have made a lot of men mad out there”

“so i have been told” she declares with confidence, innocent smile pulling upon her lips as she begins to gently crawl towards him, eyes never leaving his.

she halts in between his open legs, settling on her knees. being the little minx she is, her hands find a place on top of his thighs. “i sense you carry danger everywhere you go, mr. zenin—am i wrong?”

she’s not dumb. she spotted his gun strapped against his holster an hour before she was even being introduced to the man.

he delicately caresses her soft cheek, almost came in his pants when she leans against his palm. “why? that scares you?” he moves a few strands of hair that are blocking his view of her pretty face,

she shakes her head, a smile doesn’t leave her face. in fact, he hears a soft giggle escapes her.

his eyes move from the curve of her breasts and up to her mouth. eyeing the way that pink gloss compliments her pretty skin.

“would love to have a taste—right here” toji whispers, his thumb grace her lower lip. his breath immediately hitches, and a groan rumbles deep in his chest the moment she opens her mouth.

“fuck—what a good girl” he moans lowly when she lets his thumb rest upon her warm wet tongue. the angelic look in her eyes disappears and is replaced with a look of lust. “s-shit” it takes him by surprise when she decides to suckle it, head bobbing her head up and down painfully slow,

“jesus—i wish it was my cock you’re sucking right now, baby” nonetheless, the amount of pleasure she’s giving him is enough to keep him satisfied,

“holy fuck, wow” she pops her lips off his thumb. wiping the saliva from the corner of her mouth before giggling again. the sound makes toji smile. genuinely.

“you’re trouble” he comments with a tsk, chuckling at the way she shrugs innocently as if she has no idea what he’s talking about. “alright. up you get, baby”

she gives him a questionable look, following his movement and rise to her feet. “mr. zenin, we still have thirty minutes left. alec gave me at least an hour and he would be upset if i—“

“if he touches you, you tell me and i’ll kill him. understand?” toji sternly orders, brows furrowing at the thought of that lowlife bastard putting his hands on her,

she’s baffles at that. how could he know what goes behind closed doors? still she nods anyway. “yes, sir”

“toji, baby. toji” he corrects with a smile. “besides, if i stayed for another ten minutes, i’ll l cream in my pants and that would be embarrassing” he shamelessly points out. she blushes at that and it makes toji’s heart skips a bit,

“this doesn’t mean it’s a one and done. i would love to see you again, sweetheart. can’t let you go too far now can i?” he pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and hands her thick amount of hundreds. “here you go, angel”

she gasps softly as her eyes go big, shocked by the bundle of cash in his hand. if she counts it right that’s gotta be at least close to one grand.

“toji this is—fuck this is too much, I—i can’t take these. twenty or fifteen is enough for me”

he frowns. who in the right mind think it’s okay for men to tip a gorgeous woman with a rocking body some loose change? fucking assholes.

“baby, you do realize who you’re talking to? i don’t give out twenty or less” he quirks an eyebrow, watching her adorable expression. “money isn’t a problem to me. a grand isn’t a problem to me. come on, you deserve it”

she stares down at his hand and hesitantly takes the money. flashing him a wide smile. “mr—i mean, toji, oh my god thank you so much. thank you, thank you!” without any second thoughts, she jumps out and wrap her arms around his neck,

“you don’t know how much this means to me. i needed this”

toji stumbles a bit, the sudden movement surprises him but he appreciates it. the way she keeps thanking him, muttering couple of blessings has somehow gives his heart a little kick,

a good one.

“no need to thank me, baby” toji grins, holding her by the waist to keep her secured for a moment before pulling away. “you take care of yourself yeah? don’t be wandering too far. would love to take you out on a stroll” he leans down to peck her cheek,

“I’ll be sure to stop by and see you again, gorgeous” with one last devilish smile, he walks out of the room. leaving her still in complete shock,

he is no ordinary man, alright. it kinda makes her feel a bit weird by all the butterflies that are erupting her stomach by how he acted earlier. has it been.. what? two or three years since she had been engaged in any sort of relationships with a man. and there has been no real man crawling around this city. only rats. she fucking hates rats.

but toji zenin? there’s definitely something about him that makes his whole aura and appearance a lot more sexier. again, she’s not stupid. she has seen the gun. observed his interaction with her boss. and the men he had protecting him suits?

that’s no 9-5 man. it’s dirty work.

and it should’ve scared her. it should’ve been a warning made for her to run and avoid him because he’s a man that carries danger everywhere he goes. toji zenin is a man that would not hesitate to paint the whole town in blood of his victims if one ever crosses his territory.

yet as she glances down at the bills being handed at her and promise from him that he would see her again, it makes her smile. heart thumping at the thought of the beautiful man coming back only for her.

angel clutches the money against her chest, squealing as she does little bounces in her heels with a giggle. overjoyed with the amount of cash that would help her,

she’s definitely making toji her new favorite client

[miley1442111]

stalker- s.reid

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: spencer saves you.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: general criminal minds topics, gore and brief descriptions of harm, mutual pining, heavy topics, stalking, reader if from Texas

Spencer sat at his desk, a less than pleasant expression on his face. His glasses had slid down his nose, his usually perfectly gelled hair was messy, and a frown played at his lips. 

“If you stare any longer you’re going to end up with your face stuck like that,” Jj joked as she placed herself in his eyeline. Spencer’s frown deepened and Jj chuckled. “Come on, we have a case.”

Spencer got up, falling into stride with you as you left your desk, hanging up the phone.

“Who were you talking to?” He asked, trying to make small talk. You were new to the team, an old contractor Strauss had hand-picked, you were smart (smarter than him), beautiful, and you were so polite and dutiful that Spencer couldn’t tell if you were actually his friend. You just had an air of coolness that seemed so unreachable for Spencer. You and Derek had worked together in Chicago, you two made sense as friends, Penelope, Emily, Jj, and you all got along well, that made sense. David and you had a shared love of cooking, something SPencer couldn’t even begin to understand. You even made Aaron laugh on the worst of days with some witty comment or sarcastic joke. 

Had Derek just asked you to befriend Spencer for the team's sake? Why would you be interested in him? It made no sense.

You smiled. “My friend from home.”

“Where are you from?” He asked as you two sat in the conference room, Aaron shot you two a look that Spencer clearly didn’t see so you didn’t answer. 

“Tell you later,” you whispered as the briefing began. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walking into the sweltering heat of Texas from the lovely air-conditioned plane was quite the shock to the body. 

“Fuck it’s hot,” you sighed, pulling off your hoodie to reveal a tight black top beneath. Yes, it was work-appropriate and completely within regulations, but Spencer’s eyes all but popped out of his head like he was in one of those cartoons. 

“You’re drooling,” Derek joked from beside him, pretending to wipe his chin. Spencer pushed his hands away with a shy smile, trying to recover from his embarrassing moment. 

“Ok, Spencer and Derek you two go to the latest crime scene, Y/n, Jj and I will go to the precinct, David and Emily you two will go talk to the deceased family,” Aaron gave out jobs. “Oh and Y/n, I want you with someone at all times, this unSub is going after women with your exact description and our team is a definite hit for him. He’s made contact with the police asking specifically for you and me,” Aaron explained. 

You all dispersed into your separate cars and began working the case. The precinct was full of slimy cops who all promised to ‘protect you’, just not from themselves.

“We want you to wear this,” Jj handed you a bulletproof vest and you rolled your eyes. 

“Seriously? I’m not a porcelain doll, I can handle myself-” You tried to reason with them but the look on Aaron’s face made you stop. He, himself, was wearing one too. “Fine.”

“Good,” Jj smiled. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer was worrying himself sick at the crime scene, rambling about all the ways the unSub could get to you and how you shouldn’t even be in the state.

“Spencer!” Derek exclaimed. “Go to your girlfriend, send Jj back after you. You’re no help when you’re like this.”

Spencer didn’t take kindly to the small jest, but he didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the keys and drove down to the precinct, finding Jj immediately and making up a poorly executed lie about feeling sick. She saw right through him.

“Hope you feel better Spence,” she smirked. “Y/n is with Hotch interviewing a suspect here,” she pointed it out on a map. “See you later.”

After grabbing the keys to Emily and David’s vehicle (they’d just come back from the crime scene) and driving there, anxiety ran through him as he found the door to the farmhouse open. He turned the corner, finding three figures. One was on the floor, shouting in agony, the other was standing, hands above their head. The third was holding a gun.

He turned back, dialling Derek’s number. 

“We need back-up, we’re at 34 Terrace Avenue! Agent down!” He spoke quietly into his phone. 

“We’re on the way kid, don’t go in without back-up,” Derek told him. Spencer didn’t respond. “Spencer?”

“She’s dying,” he reasoned and hung up, walking in. “FBI! Put your weapons down!” 

The unSub, Mitchell O’Hara had been obsessed with you since high school, you’d rejected him in senior year when he’d asked you to the prom since you already had plans with friends. All over the farmhouse, there were photos of you from every stage of your life. Childhood to teenage years, to college years, to your various positions before joining the BAU just a few months ago, including your CIA and covert Ops positions. 

Spencer could see you on the ground, multiple knife wounds in your exposed torso, he’d made you take off your vest, Spencer thought. You groaned in pain on the floor. “Spencer?” You asked hazily. Spencer kept his gun trained on Mitchell. 

“Yeah?” He was stalling, waiting for Aaron to get his own gun or for back-up to arrive. 

“Good,” you were slipping out of consciousness. “I’ve always liked you,” you smiled hazily. Spencer would be elated at those words if the circumstances were different. 

“This is your dream guy Y/n?!” Mitchell shouted. “Him?!” 

“He’s nice,” you managed. “He’s funny.”

“I’m nice! I’m funny!” Mitchell screamed. 

“You’re not Spencer,” you mumbled as everything went dark. 

SWAT suddenly filled the room and Spencer ran to you, trying to stop the bleeding. Thank god Derek had ordered for an ambulance to follow them to the scene.

As Aaron cuffed Mitchell, Spencer went with you in the ambulance. He watched as they attempted to treat your wounds, needing to cut open your shirt. Spencer was shocked to find what looked like 50 different scars. Some from bullets, others knives, others things he couldn’t name. He knew you’d been in the CIA and on a Cover Ops team, he never thought you would’ve been hurt this many times and still have the strength to go on. The ambulance pulled up to the hospital and you were brought straight into emergency surgery. 

He waited for hours there just pacing, nervously biting at his nails, or attempting to sit there as no one told him a thing. He lied, saying he was your boyfriend. Technically it wasn’t a lie, you liked him, he liked you. He just hadn’t asked. 

“Dr. Reid?” A nurse called out. He stood immediately. “She’s stable and should be waking up soon, you can see her.”

Spencer nodded a ‘thanks’ her way and entered your hospital room. 

You were alive. You were here. You were awake. 

You smiled at him. “Hey.”

Your voice was hoarse, tired from the shouting you’d done. 

“Hi.”

“Thanks for saving me Spencer,” you smiled. “And about what I said… if you don’t feel the same I’d totally get it. I just thought I was… y’know dying so…”

Spencer shook his head and smiled. “I like you a lot too.”

You grinned. “Good.”

He leaned down, a sudden surge of confidence ran through him and he kissed you softly.

“I’m from Texas by the way,” you smiled against his lips. 

“I actually guessed that, yeah,” he joked, making you laugh. God, he loved your laugh. 

He loved you. He just wouldn’t tell you that yet.

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

criminal minds masterlist :)

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [12] - Chase

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Some car rides aren’t relaxing.

Word Count: 3200

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

You hummed a song as you walked through the luxurious duplex penthouse, following the real estate agent who looked thrilled to be there.

“The skyline is absolutely gorgeous as you can see,” she said. “And just letting you know, I already have three very interested buyers—”

“They’ll wait,” you stated calmly and she paused for a moment, then smiled at you.

“Of course!” she said. “Just—you know, just a fun fact! Anyway, this floor has an open kitchen and two guest bedrooms, a bathroom…”

“Two guest rooms?”

“One of which could be turned into a nursery,” she said and winked at you. “Or you could hire me when it’s time for a family home.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said with a weary smile, “but let’s just take that off the table for the moment.”

She held up her hands.

“And the upstairs has the primary bedroom suite with its own breathtaking terrace of course, the master bathroom and two walk in closets. Perfect for a newlywed couple if you ask me!”

You nodded your head. “Are the windows bulletproof?”

She blinked a couple of times.

“…I doubt it?” she said. “But we’re on the 50th floor.”

“And surrounded by other 50 floor skyscrapers,” you said and heaved a sigh. “That’s fine, we’ll get it fixed if we decide on this one.”

 “Would you like to see the terrace?” she motioned and before you could say anything, you heard footsteps coming closer and you looked over your shoulder to see Bucky stepping into the apartment.

“Hi gorgeous,” he said and approached you to press a kiss on top of your head, then turned to the real estate agent. “Viola. It's a pleasure to see you again.”

“Oh the pleasure is all mine Mr. Barnes,” she said with a giggle, a smile lighting up her face and you looked between them, raising your brows.

“Would you give us a moment while we check the terrace please, Viola?” you asked as you pulled Bucky by his vibranium arm to the huge sliding glass doors, then stepped outside.

Dear God, the skyline was absolutely gorgeous.

“So,” Bucky said. “What do you think?”

You clicked your tongue. “Before I answer that, I have a quick question.”

“Hm?”

“Did you fuck our real estate agent?”

He tilted his head, furrowing his brows together. “What?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Well because she got all flustered and smiley, and if you did it’s totally fine but it’s gonna be a little awkward honestly—”

“I didn’t!” he said. “She helped with Becca’s apartment, that’s how we know each other.”

“You own multiple skyscrapers in this part of the town and you needed a real estate agent?”

“Do I look like I am personally handling any of the buildings I own?” he asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Fine, fine…” you said. “So why were you late again? You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.”

“My mom dropped by the office,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and you frowned.

“Why?”

“She wants us to reconsider the guest list.”

“You mean she wants us to invite more people?” you asked and he nodded his head.

“Yup. Good for business, apparently.”

“The guest list and the seating chart are already finished,” you said and he sat down on the nearest sofa which looked so comfortable from where you were standing.

“I mean, would inviting more people hurt?”  

“Yeah Bucky, it would hurt my head,” you said as you glanced at the fireplace in the corner of the terrace, then flung yourself on the armchair across from the sofa. “Winnifred is such a boy mom.”

“Oh come on,” he said with a small laugh. “She loves you.”

“Uh huh, until our divorce.”

He paused for a moment, then cleared his throat.

“I’m kind of convinced your father might actually shoot me when we announce our divorce, so...”

“He won’t shoot you,” you told him, waving a hand in the air. “That being said, we’re not inviting more people.”

“I told her the same thing, that’s why it took me half an hour to convince her,” he said, leaning back to shoot you a mischievous grin. “But I think she’ll get over it if we promise to name our firstborn daughter after her.”

You hummed. “You can get a fish.”

“A fish?”

“A tankful of them, you can name all of them after your family members,” you said and sat up straighter. “So, the apartment?”

“I’m good with it if you are,” he said and stole a look at the windows. “I don’t know shit about this building though, are the windows bulletproof?”  

“I asked the same thing, she said probably not.”

“It’s fine, we can get that fixed,” he said and you felt a smile curling your lips, then kicked at his shoe with yours.

“Come on,” you said as you got up from the armchair. “We should take a look at upstairs, apparently the terrace there is breathtaking as well.”

                                                 *

Apart from the fact that it only had two guest rooms, the penthouse was absolutely perfect. You figured since you were going to get a divorce, you didn’t really need multiple guest rooms at this point, and you were pretty sure you were going to use one of them as an armory anyway.

Before you would meet Becca and Leila for dinner, your father had asked you for lunch together so after you were done at the penthouse -your new home, you reminded yourself- you made your way to the familiar skyscraper of your father’s company, but then checked your wristwatch and pursed your lips together.

You were half an hour early, and you really didn’t feel like seeing Ian any more than necessary.

You took a look at the café across from the skyscraper and lingered there for a moment, then approached there and sat down at a table. The waitress came to you to take your order and you ordered a latte before pulling out your phone to text Becca about the penthouse, but before you could send all the photos, someone pulled the chair across from yours to sit down, making your head snap up.

“Romanoff?” you squeaked out, staring at the beautiful redhead and she gave you a calm smile.

“Natasha is fine,” she said. “Do you mind?”

“Not—not at all!” you managed to say, sitting up straighter. Even though Natasha was one of the major player in the city, you two hadn’t really spent any time together just like you and Stark. You knew she was good friends with Steve and sort of friends with Bucky, but other than that, she was mostly a mystery to you.

“I had a meeting with your father,” she said, pointing at the building with her thumb. “Was just leaving when I saw you and I figured I could give you my congratulations about the wedding.”

“Ah,” you said, nodding fervently. “Thanks. I um—I really appreciate it.”

“Quite the fast wedding though,” she pointed out, making you gulp.

“Yeah we figured, you know, we’ve known each other for all our lives.”

“Right,” she said. “Of course. So are you going to take over right after the wedding then?”

Your eyes widened and you gawked at her while the waitress brought your coffee, and turned to her.

“Could I get you anything?”

“No thank you, I won’t stay for long,” Natasha said and the waitress walked away as you cleared your throat.

“Um, I—” you stammered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Her gaze was almost reprimanding as if you were trying to make her believe the table in front of her didn’t exist. You knew she was smart, no one who wasn’t smart would be able to survive at the top in this business for so long, but you had been hoping that you weren’t that obvious at the very least.

“I’m asking because if you’re going to do it at the wedding, I’m going to eat something beforehand,” she pointed out. “Considering your idiot cousin is not going to just let that happen, if bullets start flying…”

“What makes you think I want to take over?”

She let out a small laugh.

“Oh come on,” she said. “I never took you as naïve, the least you could do is return the favor. Not to mention, if you want me on your side when the time comes, you’re going to have to cut the bullshit.”

“And if that were true,” you said after a beat. “If I wanted to take over, what would be your opinion?”

She hummed.

“Well,” she trailed off. “For starters, you would make a better business partner than Ian, so you have that going for you.”  

“But…?”

“But you have no field experience,” she pointed out. “And practically zero support in the family.”

“I don’t necessarily need family support to take over,” you said. “It’s happened before. Most people follow power, no matter who holds it.”

“And the experience?”

“I have the training,” you said. “I’ll prove myself, I know very well that I have to.”

She arched a brow, then let a small smile curl her lips.

“Not to mention I’d keep the truce after taking over,” you said. “You can’t say the same thing for Ian.”

“Not very subtle, that one,” she murmured and you licked your lips.

“How did you know though?” you asked. “That I wanted it?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Your father has two starving dogs and only one steak,” she said. “Doesn’t take a genius, really. I told Clint about it way before you and Bucky got engaged.”

You huffed out a laugh and she pushed her chair back, then stood up.

“I mean you do have the training so you know how it ends, don’t you?” she asked. “One of you will have to tear the other’s throat out.”

That made you swallow thickly and you nodded your head, your teeth clenched together. She kept your gaze in hers for a couple of seconds, then shrugged her shoulders.

“Good luck,” she said calmly and walked away from you to get into her car, and you slid a little in your chair, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Thanks,” you muttered. “Good talk.”

                                             *

You had sent your bodyguards away for the night considering Becca already had hers who would accompany you to the nightclub. She had insisted on driving her car on the way there and you had a strong feeling that it was her way of showing Leila there was nothing to be intimidated about the business or her place in it, and that she could adapt to the civilian life just fine.

Love made people do all sorts of things, apparently.

Becca’s bodyguards’ car was following you as you leaned your head on the window, making yourself comfortable in the backseat and you took a look at your phone, then cleared your throat.

“Do you guys think I should text Ethan?”

Becca frowned at you from the rearview mirror before turning her attention on the road and Leila turned sideways in the passenger seat so that she could see you better.

“Do you want to?”

“I mean I feel like I should,” you said. “Technically, the guy took a bullet for me.”

Becca let out a noise of disagreement. “The guy took a bullet while you were there, it’s not the same thing.”

“He wouldn’t have got shot if I weren’t there though,” you pointed out and Leila hummed.

“I mean he’s gonna have to get over the fact that you’re in love with someone else and getting married,” she said. “If you’re friends…”

“We are.”

“You were only friends because he was hoping it would turn into a relationship,” Becca sang in a teasing manner and you rolled your eyes at her.

“I actually like spending time with him though,” you said. “I don’t know, I can’t help feel a bit guilty because—”

You were interrupted when a police car turned the corner to get in between you and Becca’s bodyguards’ car and flashed its headlights, signaling at you to pull over. Becca’s eyes snapped up to yours in the rearview mirror as your stomach dropped and you sat up straighter while Leila looked over her shoulder.

“Babe, they’re telling us to pull over.”

Becca’s jaw clenched before she cleared her throat while you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“Do you mind changing seats with Y/N, my love?”

“Why?”

“Because that’s not the police,” you told her. “No police in this city ever stops us.”

“What do you—” she started but let out a scream when another car hit Becca’s bodyguards car from the side, making it stop as the bullets started flying. Becca reached out to make her duck and you looked back, letting out a curse.

“Leila, the car is bulletproof,” Becca said, her voice calm as if there weren’t bullets hitting the car. “It’s all going to be fine, I just need you to change seats with Y/N.”

“O—okay…” Leila stammered and pushed herself through the small gap between her and Becca’s seat to reach the backseat, and you squeezed at her arm.

“Nothing will happen to you, just keep your head down,” you assured her and pulled your gun from your purse, then got on the passenger seat, adrenaline running through your veins.

“HYDRA?”

“Has to be,” Becca said as she sped up the car, swirling the car left and right so that some of the bullets wouldn’t hit it. “What are you thinking?”

You checked the GPS on the screen. “Sam’s territory.”

“Alright,” she muttered as she found and touched his name on the screen while you counted the bullets that seemed to be endless with the way they were raining on the car.

“Sooner or later that motherfucker is gonna have to change the magazine—”

“Hi Becca,” Sam’s voice reached the car. “Um, why am I hearing gunshots?”

Becca swirled the car on the road again. “HYDRA is following us, I’m in the car with Y/N and Leila.”

“What?!”

“It’s fine, Bucky made sure the car was bulletproof the day I bought it,” Becca added. “Listen, Sam I’m sharing my location with you, we’re like two minutes away from your territory and HYDRA’s men are right behind us so we can’t turn back—”

“I’m sending the cars and calling Buck,” Sam said and Becca hung up the phone as you opened the car window, then leaned out of the window and fired the shot at the man’s hand when he slid the next magazine into the gun, making him let out a yell. You quickly got back in and huffed out a breath.

“They have a bulletproof car as well but that should slow them down for a couple of seconds,” you muttered and turned to look at Leila who was still covering her head, curled up on the backseat.

“Leila?” Becca said. “Talk to me.”

“I—I think I’m fine?” Leila replied, her voice shaking. “Jesus Christ…”

“I’m really sorry about this,” Becca said and Leila shook her head.

“It’s not your fault Becca.”

The bullets started hitting the car again and you gritted your teeth, then checked the GPS again while Becca stepped on the accelerator.

“Babe, remember how you asked why the truce was so important in this city?” she asked Leila. “This is why.”

The moment your car entered Sam’s territory, two cars coming from the opposite direction turned their headlights on and wheezed past you, surrounding the car behind you. Becca pulled over and let out a breath, closing her eyes for a moment before she reached out to hold your hand to squeeze it.

“You okay?”

“Mm hm,” you said, your heart still beating in your ears as your phone started vibrating on the backseat. “You?”

“Peachy,” she said as she unbuckled her seatbelt, and touched Leila’s back. “Leila?”

Even you could tell that Leila was shaken up but she raised her head and wiped at her eyes, sniffling.

“I’m okay,” she rasped out. “Is it safe now?”

“Yeah,” Becca said. “I—Leila, I’m incredibly sorry for this…”

“Not your fault,” Leila said, her voice still trembling even if she tried to smile. “And I’m fine. We’re all fine.”

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” you managed to say and grabbed your phone before you stepped out of the car. Bucky’s name was flashing on the screen and you took a deep breath, then answered it and took it to your ear.

“Becca is fine,” you said. “Leila too. Sam’s people are here.”

There was a second of silence on the other side of the line before you heard Bucky letting out a relieved breath.

“Sweetheart?” he said, his voice gentle. “Are you alright?”

You bit inside your cheek, still trying to get rid of the fear churning your insides.

“Mm hm.”

“Did you get hurt?”

“No, I shot one of them in the hand,” you said, your eyes falling on the three HYDRA men Sam’s people had dragged out of the car. The sight of one of them still holding onto his bleeding hand made the anger rush through your system so fast that it made your head spin, your vision going red.

Attacking you was one thing but attacking your friends and putting them in danger was another.

And you were not going to let that happen.

“Good job,” Bucky said softly as if trying to calm you down. “I’m on my way, alright?”

“Uh huh,” you said and hung up as you gripped your gun tighter, then pushed the phone into your pocket to make your way to the crowd. Sam’s people all turned to you before one of them stepped closer and you tried to focus through the blinding anger, dragging your gaze from the captives to her.

“Ma’am,” she said, stretching out her hand so that you could shake it with your free hand. “My name is Aubrey. Mr. Wilson let us know about what happened, he is on his way here. Is everyone in the car alright?”

“Yeah,” you said through frozen lips. “Thank you Aubrey. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” she said and you walked past her to get closer to HYDRA’s men. The one who was cradling his bloody hand glared at you, then spat at the ground.

“Doesn’t matter where you take us, I’ll die before I speak,” he growled and you arched a brow, then shrugged your shoulders calmly as if fury wasn't pounding in your head.

“Happy to follow your schedule buddy.”

You raised your gun and fired it right between his eyes, his lifeless body hitting the ground as the loud shot echoed through the road. Aubrey raised her brows and exchanged glances with one of her men while you lowered the gun and wiped the blood off your face.

“I’ll be over there until my fiancé gets here,” you said, motioning at the direction of Becca’s car. “Thanks again.”

 With that, you made your way to the car and jumped to sit on the trunk so that you wouldn’t interrupt Becca and Leila’s conversation. You put the gun beside you with a sigh, then crossed your legs and leaned back on your palms, adrenaline still roaring through you.

“Great,” you murmured, turning your gaze up to the sky. “Here goes my night I guess.”

Chapter 13

[deliciousangelfestival]

Underworld Insomnia || 1 - B.Barnes

Character : Bucky × Psychiatrist Female!Reader

Summary: As a ruthless contract killer, Bucky is feared in the underworld of criminals. His opponents freeze when they see him, as he is feared among them. However, they don't know that he could be warm to only one person: his pshychiatrist. The only person who could make him fall asleep.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , -

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to hear your feedback. Thank you once again.

In the world of secret societies for underground criminals, there's a secret place for criminals to stay, a shop for criminals to buy their weapons, basically, criminals live like normal people but they can only go to places that are built for criminals.

That's the rule.

There's also a particular psychiatrist for criminals only. Since many of the criminals have demons in their minds.

For this job, Dr. Ben is the only person the criminals could go to and ask for advice and medicine so they could go to sleep. Most of them can sleep.

But the only person who has trouble is Bucky Barnes.

His name is enough to make everyone in the underworld shiver. His eyes are enough to make his opponents freeze.

Bucky is their answer if anyone wants a job done without any mistakes.

With the money from the job he finished, he could have a comfortable life for generations. But he doesn't need it because all he wants right now is to sleep.

"I tried what you told me. Work out until I'm tired, learn something new, clean all my weapons, upgrade my car, renovate my house with bulletproofing, sex," Bucky said while he lay on the couch, looking at the ceiling.

Dr. Ben kept writing while listening to his patient.

"I even went to pottery class, baking class, painting class, and sex," Bucky counted on his fingers.

"Still. Nothing works. I still can't sleep. It's been 7 years," Bucky said.

Dr. Ben, who kept writing, replied, "Yeah, you have mentioned sex multiple times."

"White noise, pink noise. In the end, I smashed the Bluetooth speaker. None of your methods work," Bucky said as he sat up and glared at Dr. Ben.

Dr. Ben adjusted his reading glasses. He remained calm, probably one of the few people not afraid even though Bucky was angry.

He clicked his pen and put the report on the table.

"Do you want to try reading fairy tale books?" Dr. Ben asked.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you joking with me?"

Dr. Ben replied, "Most of you people have a shitty childhood. Have shitty parents. Perhaps deep down, your kind wants something related to fulfilling your inner child."

Bucky exclaimed, "Woah, doctor, calm down. You're brutally honest here." He sighed, because he knew this method will failed like the rest. "Fine. I'll try." Then he lay back on the couch and closed his eyes.

Dr. Ben picked a children's book and started to read, he flipped through the pages, and began to read aloud, "Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a brave little mouse named Timothy."

"Timothy was no ordinary mouse," Dr. Ben continued, "for he possessed a heart as courageous as a lion and a determination that could move mountains."

"Stop. Stop. It's so weird listening to you. Get someone else," Bucky interrupted, feeling uncomfortable.

Dr. Ben closed the book. "I'll get my apprentice."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "You've got a new one?" He knew that none of Dr. Ben's employees stayed that long, given the fear of criminals who kept coming for therapy.

Dr. Ben adjusted his glasses. "She could tame Bruce Banner; I think she could do the same to you."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Dr. Ben got up from his seat and opened his office door. "Y/N, help me for a bit," he called out.

Bucky heard a melodious voice respond, "Yes?"

The door swung open, revealing a woman with a confident stride and a calm demeanor. She had striking eyes that seemed to hold a depth of understanding, framed by a cascade of dark hair that fell gracefully around her shoulders.

Her posture exuded poise and assurance, hinting at a quiet strength within. She carried herself in professional attire with an air of authority, yet there was warmth in her expression as she met Bucky's gaze.

As you approach your boss, he suddenly puts a children's book in your hand.

You look at him, puzzled. "Huh?"

Dr. Ben pointed at Bucky and explained, "This person can't sleep for years. So I want to see if reading a children's story could make him fall asleep."

Bucky huffs in frustration. As a top assassin in the underworld, it's humiliating if he can only fall asleep with a children's book. "Just do it."

You flinch, knowing the man in front of you is dangerous.

Dr. Ben pats your shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, he's just cranky. I'll be here too. I need to see if it's working or not."

"Okay," you respond, then sit in the chair near Bucky's couch.

Before opening the book, you can't help but notice the tattoos on his neck and hands.

"Are you done staring?" Bucky asks, irritation evident in his voice.

"Oh, right, I'm sorry," you apologize quickly. "I'll start reading. Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a brave little mouse named Timothy. Timothy was no ordinary mouse, for he possessed a heart as courageous as a lion and a determination that could move mountains."

As you continue reading, Bucky listens intently, his eyes focused on the ceiling as he tries to relax.

"Despite his small size," you continue, "Timothy dreamed of embarking on great adventures and proving himself to be the bravest mouse in all the land."

Bucky's tense expression begins to soften slightly as he listens to the soothing cadence of your voice.

"One day," you narrate, "a fierce dragon threatened the kingdom, causing panic among the inhabitants. But Timothy, undeterred by the danger, volunteered to confront the dragon and save his home."

Bucky's breathing starts to slow down as he gets engrossed in the tale, his earlier restlessness fading away.

"With unwavering courage," you go on, "Timothy faced the dragon, armed only with his wits and determination. And through his bravery and quick thinking, he managed to outsmart the fearsome beast and bring peace back to the kingdom."

As you reach the end of the story, Bucky's eyes grow heavy, and he finally begins to drift off to sleep, a sense of calm settling over him.

Dr. Ben watches silently, nodding in approval as he sees the story's effect on Bucky. It seems that, perhaps, there is power in the simplest of tales to soothe even the most troubled minds.

Bucky's eyes felt heavy. The childish story and your calm voice made him feel relaxed. Your voice seemed more effective than white noise in soothing his troubled mind. As he listened, the tension in his muscles gradually melted away, replaced by a sense of peace and tranquility.

Then Bucky opened his eyes, only to realize he wasn't in the same place in Dr. Ben's office anymore. He found himself on a bed inside an unknown room. Panic surged through him.

Had he been kidnapped?

It would bring shame to his name as the feared killer if true.

As he processed his surroundings, Bucky's hand instinctively went for his knife, ready to defend himself. But soon, he recognized the familiar surroundings of Dr. Ben's building. Relief washed over him, though he remained on edge.

A door creaked open, causing Bucky to tense, his grip tightening on the knife. But to his surprise, it was just Dr. Ben.

"Did you have a good sleep?" Dr. Ben asked calmly.

Bucky clicked his tongue in annoyance and massaged his shoulder. "No. Your methods didn't work. I'm still tired."

"Well, that's natural since you've been asleep for three days," Dr. Ben replied matter-of-factly.

Three days?!

He can't believe it, since he has only been able to sleep for one hour each night for the past seven years. Bucky's eyes widened in disbelief as he checked his phone, seeing the date and numerous missed calls and unread messages.

"It worked?" he muttered, incredulous. He had been able to sleep and hadn't even realized it.

Bucky's amazement lingered as he realized that he had slept for three whole days without even being aware of it. It was a stark contrast to the years of insomnia he had endured, struggling to find even a moment of rest.

The tension that had plagued his body for so long began to ebb away, replaced by a newfound sense of calmness and clarity. He couldn't deny the relief that washed over him, knowing that perhaps, just perhaps, there was hope for him yet.

Then, there was a knock on the door. It was you.

"How is he, doctor? Is he still asleep?" you asked, but you gasped when Bucky's intense gaze met yours.

Was he angry? Did he blame you for making him sleep for three days?

"Y/N, is it?" Bucky inquired.

You responded groggily, "Yes?"

Bucky got on his knees, his right hand resting on his left chest and his left hand reaching for you. He looked at you earnestly and asked, "Will you work for me?"

You were taken aback, as was Dr. Ben. Bucky's unexpected gesture felt like it could lead to a significant misunderstanding, resembling a proposal rather than a job offer.

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[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1963 Chrysler Imperial Crown Convertible

Although Chrysler Corporation introduced a prestige model, the Imperial, in 1926, its third year of production, it was nearly three decades before it became a marquee in its own right. What had long been the most expensive Chrysler model became, for model year 1955, simply "Imperial," and offered three body styles in two series. This separate branding was a direct challenge to Lincoln and Cadillac.

For the next two years, Imperial was largely a long-wheelbase Chrysler with a bolder grille, the latter appropriated for Chrysler's performance model, the 300. In 1957, however, Imperial was reinvented with a new personality, its gun-sight taillights incorporated into growing tailfins and curved side glass foretelling an industry trend. This year also marked the appearance of a faux spare tire embellishment on the decklid, a device first seen on the Exner-designed and Ghia-built concept cars of 1952-53.

For 1961, Exner conceived another retro feature, free-standing headlamps, ensconced in alcoves beside the grille. Denigrated by some as "difficult to wash," they gave the car a unique cachet, a classic touch never emulated in any other automobile.

This 1963 Imperial Crown convertible, one of 531 built, is, except for the exclusive long-wheelbase limousine, the rarest of the breed.

Like all 1963 Imperials, it is powered by a 340bhp, single-quad version of Chysler's 413 cubic inch "wedge" engine. The transmission is the bulletproof Torqueflite three-speed automatic.

[spinster-sisters]

Reality p.sh

Pt3 of Expectations

pt.1 pt.2 (these are 6k and 8k wc respectively but you very much need to read them to get what’s going on here, sorry)

TW: All the usual mafia au warnings apply here (descriptions of guns violence and torture), afab reader, oral (fem receiving), piv, unprotected sex, breeding as a kink with repercussions, the miscommunication in this deserves its own warning

WC: 23k

-

“You want me to do what?” Seonghwa asks, looking up from his papers in disbelief.

You stood leaning against his mahogany desk, hand on his shoulder running your finger across his tailored suit jacket. You had been preparing for this request from first thing this morning. You had wrapped your arms around his waist when he sat up from bed and pulled him back into your embrace, in a sweet, tiered voice you asked him to stay in bed with you. He chuckled and shook his head, rolling his shoulders to rid the sleep from his body before breaking your grasp gently, laying your arms back down with a smile before standing from the bed.

When he was getting into his car you stood by the driver's side door, taking special care to wish him a good day at work with a sweet smile, you had felt a bit silly doing it considering what his work was, but you still meant it. He had reciprocated your smile with a knowing look.

He slid into the driver's seat of his sleek black car. Although it was nothing flashy, you knew just the bulletproof glass on the car was expensive, not to mention every other modification that had been made to suit your lifestyle. Your arm hung over the door as you leaned down to kiss his cheek, you had let the deep v in your sweater do its work and of course, you noticed his eyes glance down and then away, trying to mask a smirk.

And now, as you stood pressed against his side in nothing but a silk robe with his initials sewn into the lapel, stroking your fingers down his chest. And he had the audacity to look unimpressed.

“I want you to teach me how to shoot.” You repeated, crossing your arms in front of your chest, unhappy with his reaction. Your eyes flick to the silver gun on the far edge of his desk.

Seonghwa’s head fell into his hand as he rubbed his brow bone.

“Where oh where did you get the idea that you need to know how to shoot a gun.” he asked in exasperation. You huffed, lifting yourself to sit on the edge of his desk, the cold wood pressing into your skin.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” You shot back, crossing your legs with a flare. Seonghwa leaned back into his chair and peered at you.

“Clearly.” He replied incredulously, lifting his arms inches into the air before dropping them back onto the armrest. You huff in disbelief, giving him an equally stern look and sitting up straight.

“In case you forgot, I am married to a mob underboss. The fact I can’t shoot a gun is a liability,” But as you spoke you noticed you we’re losing Seonghwa’s attention.

He couldn’t help it, his eyes dragged up the exposed flesh of your thigh, noticing for the first time that you were practically naked in front of him. That had been the intention, but he certainly chose his moment poorly.

You rolled your eyes at him and snapped your fingers in front of his face. His eyes shot up to meet yours with a wolfish smirk.

Seonghwa reached out and ran a hand up your leg practically to your core. Your thighs clench instinctively as heat shot between your legs; his hand was momentarily trapped between your thighs before you swatted it away.

“What? You come in here practically on display and expect me not to touch?” He grins. You frown at him.

“Not when my husband should be listening to what his wife is trying to tell him.” You humph at him.

“I was listening, and my answer hasn’t changed. You don’t need to know; they will never get close enough for you to need it.” He says definitively, taking hold of the ankle crossed over the other and lifting back across. You can feel yourself getting turned on, it’s inevitable with a man who looks like him, dark and handsome and a silver tongue, you were destined to lose this battle. His hands have already been all over your skin and it is having its desired effect. But you are determined to hear a yes before you submit.

“Oh, come on, pretty please?” You ask with a playful pout, playing into dynamic hoping to pull the right thread that will loosen his will. Leaning back with your hands on the wood behind you as the silk robe slips ever so slightly, keeping you covered but only just.  His eyes are trained on your soft skin, you can practically see the desire burning in his eyes as his mind examines every inch of your flushed body, almost as if committing it the moment to memory. Even more so when you arch your back ever so slightly, pushing out your chest.

His hands takes hold of your knees, he looks up at you with a challenging smirk as he begins to spread your legs. He’s looking into your eyes, and he pushes them further apart you feel your breath catch in your throat, if he were to look down now there is no doubt he would see wetness pooling between your thighs at his firm grip. You’re almost completely exposed when he replies.

“I believe I have already told you no.” He says, slicing the tension in the air.

He doesn’t have the chance to gloat. You scoff at him, snapping your knees shut and crossing your arms. It took all your resolve not to give in to him, but you had a plan to stick to.

“Then you don’t get to touch.” You shoot back, already sliding off his desk. Seonghwa sits genuinely stunned for several seconds before shooting up after you. Your hand is on the doorknob when he catches you. He reaches out as you are opening it and slams the door closed again.

Coming up behind you he wraps his free arm around our middle before pushing you against the door from behind. You gasp, feeling him pressed into your back and his length pushing into the flesh of your ass.

“Where do you think you’re going darling,” he murmurs into the shell of your ear. The resurgence of an old nickname is enough to have your insides fluttering. His hand from the door lands comfortably on your waist.

“Away from you, if you can’t be reasonable, too bad.” You shrug and tsk at him but stay put in his arms, it’s not like you have much room for movement anyway. You can hear the cogs turning in his head, but you can feel his erection pressing hard into your body. You wonder which one he will listen to.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He suddenly gets very serious, and you know he wants a serious answer. You take a deep breath, as you inhale you feel your body possibly even further into the sturdiness of his own.

“Yes, I want to learn.” You reply resolutely. Seonghwa takes a deep breath, leaning into your nape, kissing it gingerly, before stroking a hand down your spine. If you hadn't been hanging on to his every word you would have missed it.

"Fine," he grumbled, speaking directly into your skin.

“You’re all mine now, darling.” He growls and you feel it rumbling in his chest against your back. Your breath hitches. A moment later his hand grasping the swell of your butt, squeezing the flesh, you let out a squeal only for his hand to come down hard in a slap against your ass. The whine you let out is something pitiful, your core is alight again the pain had only served to fuel the aching in your cunt.

“Seonghwa-“you plead in a high tone, he lets out another running rumbling grunt. His right-hand slides from your waist slowly to the opening of your robe. His touch feels like fire as it travels across your body till he unties the ribbon. As the thin fabric falls open, Seonghwa’s left-hand pushes you to bend forward against the door before moving around to grope at your chest. Your breathing comes in hics. Seemingly at every second Seonghwa discovers a new way of toying with your body, setting it alight.

His hand travels down, between your legs, before strong fingers are cupping your heat. You gasp, as he holds your cunt in his hand, sliding his slim fingers through your folds. Wet noises can be heard even to you.

“Your so wet, look at you acting all big and tough, when you can’t even handle my touch without your cunt getting all drenched.” Seonghwa’s voice ripples through you, every word making you clench just as much as his fingers playing with you. You can’t help but blindly agree, nodding your head in ascent.

“I shouldn’t even be touching you with how demanding your being.” He chides into your ear, his fingers momentarily stopping their assault.

Your head whips around.

“No, no, no!” You beg, your hips bucking into his unmoving palm. Seonghwa grins devilishly down at you.

“What are those words you used earlier? I liked the way they sounded coming from your lips.” He gloated.

“Pretty please?” You pleaded, giving him big wide eyes over your shoulder.

Satisfaction filled his features. Seonghwa pulled you from the door by the waist. Turning you around and pushing you the way back to his desk. Sitting back in his chair he maneuvered you onto your previous spot again, only this time he took hold of your waist and pulled you forward till you practically fell off the edge. He leaned back in his chair and admired your debauched state.

Your robe fell open from your shoulders, your breath was heavily with anticipation, and as he pried your knees open again your glistening pussy was all on display for him.

He groaned at the sight.

You whined again.

“Seonghwa! I said please! Won’t you touch me?” You begged. He stuck you with a hard gaze.

“When did you get so spoiled.” As he spoke, he stood, pushing his chair back and standing between your spread legs. His hand on your knee once again slid down your leg but instead of touching where you oh so desperately wanted him he used it to spread your legs even further and hold them there.

“I suppose that’s my own fault. I took a sweet girl and spoiled her rotten.” He tutted at you, using his free hand to take hold of your chin keeping your eyes on his face as your head so desperately tried to look away in embarrassment.

“How could I not, when you’re so pretty.” He sighed. As though giving into his own musings Seonghwa’s hand slid back down to run against your cunt. The reaction was immediate. Your head has it not been for the steady grip on your jaw would have flung back in ecstasy. As though to make up for lost time one finger found your clit and began rubbing tight little circles into the bundle of nerves. If felt remarkably unfair how quickly he had unraveled you, with so little actual touch.

Seonghwa focused all his attention on your face, keeping your head in place to watch every expression and noise in detail with a satisfied grin. Your clit had grown swollen quickly and every round made your leg twitch against his side.  You were already feeling yourself getting extremely hot, like he had lit a fire inside you with your own nerves as kindling.

Seonghwa got to enjoy the sight of you twitching and panting, a bead of sweat forming on your chest.

Seonghwa groaned again. His hand falls away from your core, bringing your simultaneous relief and torture at the lack of touch. His hands fell to cage you down against the desk as he leaned in close. His lips crashed onto yours in an incredibly messy kiss, groaning with every swipe of his tongue past your lips only for it to fall just as suddenly. He stared into your face with what can only be described as reverence.

“I can’t be mean to you even if I want to. Not when your so darling,” He almost sighs the words at you, giving you whiplash from the harshness you saw only moments ago. As the sentence concluded Seonghwa drops to his knees, looking up at you like a starved man. Your legs are still spread wide and that is all the invitation he needs before diving into your cunt.

You don’t even have time to properly moan before your breath is stolen entirely. Seonghwa is lapping at your whole cunt like he hasn’t eaten in days. His long tongue worked it’s way across every inch of slick. Several full stripes across the entirety before spreading your folds and working his way to your still leaking slit.

Your clit, still swollen and sensitive is sending shock after shock up your body every time he brushes against it. Seonghwa claps the bud between his lips and sucks at it with delicious pressure that makes you squeal and reach for his dark hair. Yanking at the roots as he releases the nub with a wet pop.

Allowing himself a moment to breathe he looks up at you. You yourself are completely ruined. Your voice has been lost save for the occasional squeak or whine and it is all you can do to stay sitting up after that.

Seonghwa grins at you “You taste so delicious, darling” he practically giggles at you. You think for a moment you can catch your breath, but Seonghwa doesn’t allow you the relief.

In an instant, his mouth is back on your cunt. With his tongue now prodding your entrance, dipping into it in search of more slick. His tongue is darting in and out sliding quickly inside only for more arousal to fall into his lips. Your hips can’t help but buck in time with his actions.

“Seonghwa,” you whine. He only groans in response. The vibrations travel up inside you, sending you over the edge in ecstasy. Heat pools in your core and travels like waves through your limbs. Your mouth is hung open in an “o” as you helplessly twitch against his still moving mouth.

Seonghwa loved to please, but sometimes he enjoyed it a bit too much. The pleasure pulsing in your core had suddenly turned to burning pain with every brush of his lips.

“Seonghwa! Wait-“you gasped, pulling at his hair. He did not pull away. Speaking his next words directly into your core.

“Just a little more, you’ll love it. Just give me a little more.”

Your body thrashed against his hold; every shot of pain layered with burning pleasure enough to make you whimper.

“Please, please!” Your voice was little more than a gasp, but he heard your over the sopping noises coming from your pussy.

“Almost there darling, you can give me another.” He groans into you.

His mouth is moving much lighter against you than before, yet the sensations are just as hard to deal with, somehow you feel heat building and building even quicker than before. You’re tugging helplessly against your husband’s hair, but when he returns to suck on your clit your orgasm washes over you like a wave. Your arms holding yourself up fail and you let yourself fall back against the cold wooden desk as your body rides along with explosive pleasure.

When you come back to your senses Seonghwa is leaning against your thigh with a satisfied grin. As you slowly pick yourself up you watch as he leans in to press a gentle kiss against your core before pulling away. His face is glistening with your arousal and his hair is in disarray after your grip, but he has never looked so pleased.

Seonghwa grins, his eyes glaze over slightly, his eyes are dark yet glassy as they trail over your messy state, but the goofy grin stays. He leans down to kiss the corner of your lips. You can only give him a questioning look, still panting from your high.

“I know I just put you through quite a bit. But I think after all that I deserve to fuck you as well.” He continues, kissing gently against the other side of your lips. Your eyes are tiered, but you can’t deny, the thought of him filling you up is already enough to have your insides stirring again.

“Will you promise to be gentle with me? Im a bit-” you start, gripping the collar of his shirt.

“Sensitive?" he cuts in, his voice teasing. "Of Course,” He promises, but his grin is starting to look less goofy and more wolfish.

You nod your head in ascent. Seonghwa takes your body and helps you turn around, bending you over the edge of the desk. From this angle you can’t see him, but you can hear the distinct sounds of him undoing his belt.

You feel him smooth a hand down your back like he is petting a cat, calming your tense body. When you feel him prod at your entrance you can’t help but wince, but as he slowly pushes all the way inside you, you can feel your body tingle in excitement at how deep he fills you up.

Your body is practically humming as you arch your back, signaling him to give you a deep thrust. Your body flusters around him as he pushes in and out and you moan each time he fills you up again. Seonghwa finds the perfect pace, he’s fucking you deep, but he’s going at such a speed and is holding your body so tenderly around your waist the pain of overstimulation is nothing but an afterthought.

Each push of his hips pushes you further up on the desk and each time Seonghwa pulls your body back down to meet them. Shooting pleasure runs through you every time he rubs against your walls.

“See? Don’t you see how well you’re doing darling? You’re taking me so well.” Seonghwa coos at you. You murmur ascents, too focused on the way he stretches you out, feeling him pulsing inside you. You’re growing louder with every moan or whimper. You can’t help it, not when he lifts your hips ever so slightly allowing him a better angle to push against your most sensitive spots and thrust even deeper.

“You know if I cum in you this deep I’ll probably get you pregnant.” He groans. These words shock you, but it is nothing compared to how they make you clench around him. Seonghwa lets out his own moan at that.

“Oh? You like that? You like the idea of getting knocked up?” Seonghwa laughs through his panting.

“Yes- “you all but whimper, letting him maneuver your hips exactly how he wants. After this discovery every thrust is delivered with greater force, knocking the wind from you, and shooting more pleasure into your core.

“I think you would look pretty like that-" he starts but his eyes screw shut and he lets out a rumbling groan as his hip meets your's. His hand and gripping your hips so tight, using them as leverage to get just that little bit deeper.

You couldn’t tell who was more affected by his words as you both fell apart at them. Just before you lost yourself to your third orgasm you felt Seonghwa spill his cum inside you only adding to your feeling of fullness. At that, your brain stopped working.

It was the most intense orgasm you could remember, your brain all but mush as your body rode and rode out the waves of white hot pleasure. If your eyes were open, they were not seeing. If your mouth was open, it was making noises too obscene to be remembered.

But when it came to an end you felt your doting husband tying the robe around you again and gently lifting you off the desk. Your arms absently latched around his neck, and he chuckled at your attempt.

As you ascended the stairs and entered your bedroom you whined desperately when he walked straight past your bed.

“Darling, I love you so much, but I will not let you into my fresh sheets this sticky.”

You swatted his chest but to no avail, the dreaded bath before bed. You had not the faintest hope of staying awake.

-

The next morning you woke up far later than usual. Guessing by the way the sunlight was streaming in through the window, it was probably already around or after noon.

With a groan, you pulled the covers off yourself to get some breakfast. As soon as your feet are planted on the floor and tried to pull yourself to your feet you realize you have an issue.

You are incredibly sore. Seonghwa was already away at work, the trek down the stairs and to the kitchen would be a painful one, as you could feel the slight ache in your muscles restricting you. As you observe yourself in the mirror you see faint shapes of Seonghwa’s palms across your hips. You had half a mind to think ‘Gentle my ass’ but then again last night really had gotten a bit, intense?

Oh. That. You flushed at the thought of the words that had brought you to pieces the previous night. You had never even thought to discuss that before. Did Seonghwa actually want kids? Was that his weird way of telling you? Did you even want kids?

The distinct noise of something in coming from downstairs broke you from this derailed train of thought. And it made your blood run cold. The door to the landing was cracked just enough that you could slip through. You looked around for your phone to call for help only to remember with another pang of terror that you had left it in the kitchen the previous night before visiting your hubsand's office.

With no other choice than to descend the stairs on your wobbly legs, you did so, holding your breath, trying not to make a sound. The trek down was gut wrenching, but nothing like the last corner to the kitchen. As you braced yourself for all kinds of horror you turned into the room only to see! Seonghwa?

“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!” You called to him, where he sat peacefully eating. You startled him enough to make him drop his fork but he could not stop himself from chuckling at you.

“What are you even doing here?” You asked, exasperated, and leaning against the archway. Seonghwa looked, his eyes wide and slightly confused as though it were obvious as though it were obvious.

“Eating?”

“No, I mean why are you still at the house" you question. Still reeling from sudden fear to sudden relief. You could still feel your heart in your ribcage pounding away.

“Oh, I have decided to take the day off.” He replies, turning back to his food, his usually sicked back hair falling in his eyes as. You raise a brow at him.

“Taking a day off?” You ask, crossing your arms starting to grow in disbelief. Seonghwa nods, taking another bite.

“In the 2 years we have been married you have never once taken a day off.” You reply.

“First time for everything,” he shoots back cheerfully, finishing the last of his food.

“Do you always wake up this late?” He asks while clearing his plate, giving you a once over. Then a look of realization and a smirk, noticing the way you are leaning heavily against the archway as well as the visible marks on your hips. The tank top was doing little to cover them.

“Or only when I fuck you too good.” He asks, crossing the room, standing at your feet, with that grin resurfacing from last night. You shush him, swatting his chest so slightly that your hand just lands on his shoulder instead, feeling the material of his sweater. He's dressed casual today.

“You are too satisfied with yourself,” you shoot back, smoothing the wrinkles in his rarely-seen sweater. Unlike your husband, you have no real reason to put on clothes every day, so his comment wasn't entirely false. You could sleep till what ever hour you liked most days.

In the earlier days of your marriage, before the dissent from your men began a few months back, you used to fill your days as best you could. Having your husband opened doors and there wasn't anything the city had to offer you could not occupy yourself with, and you'd even made friends with some of the neighbors. But since the dissent, you've been under 'house arrest.' You remember how it drove you mad being cooped up here with no information, like the world's most expensive padded prison.

With the promise from Seonghwa that as soon as the threat was neutralized he would let you roam during his busy days and nights, but until then he would keep you safe and secure in his house, protected by his men, all the time. You wondered at the amount of Ateez's resources going into keeping you safe. You couldn't rationalize it all being worth it.

“Are you going to need me to carry you to the car?” He asks with a grin, leaning down to meet your eye level, breaking you from your thoughts with his dark eyes and barely arched eyebrow.

“Why am I going to the car?”

“I’m teaching you to shoot today.” He states as though this were obvious, straightening back up to his full height.

“Oh wait, so you’re ok with that?” You asked incredulously.

“We made a deal, didn’t we?” He asks with a tilt of the head. You simply stare at him and after a moment you blink.

“Well, I mean, I just thought since you were so against it you were just gonna- “you trailed off. Seonghwa chuckled again.

“You mean I could have bent you over my desk without agreeing to teach you shoot?” he asks in mock surprise, his eyes widening comically and his eyebrow shooting up, for a finishing touch he places his hand cupping his his cheek and lets his mouth hang open in surprise. You only stare in bewilderment and you can help but laugh.

“Go get dressed, I’m not doing this anywhere where you can shoot something I own.”

-

“Seonghwa are you sure she’s never shot a gun?” Yeosang questions from his place sitting on the hood of his car. His mild voice carried in the empty shipyard you find yourself in.

Another shot rings out and another metal can topples to the ground with a crash. The force of the shot pushes you backward into your husband's chest. Despite his steady grip on you you still stumble forcefully backwards. Seonghwa stabilizes you, then sighs.

“Being a good shot doesn’t matter if you can’t shoot without falling on your ass,” Seonghwa grumbles.

Despite his tone, you are more than pleased with your performance so far. You weren’t a perfect marksman, not by a long shot, but you managed to knock one of the empty cans from the roof of the abandoned cars yards away on only your third attempt. Yeosang had let out a long whistle, but Seonghwa still seemed dispirited.

“I think I’m doing a good job,” you mumble in return, lowering the weapon to point it at the ground. Despite having never shot a gun before today, your father had taught you proper gun safety ever since you were a child. Every person in your life always had one on them even back then, it was better to be safe than sorry.

“If it’s just a problem with the kickback, then the more she uses it the more she will get used to it.” Yeosang reasons. You turn your head to face Seonghwa, his features are set in a frown. When he meets your gaze, his free hand shoots up and takes your jaw to turn your head back down the abandoned ally Seonghwa brought you too.

“Yeosang I would prefer if she didn’t have the chance to get used to it,” Seonghwa sighed in exasperation before leaning into your ear “Go on, take another shot. Try to keep your feet planted.” He instructs quietly in your ear, his breath tickling your ear. You sigh, lifting the firearm. You take a deep breath, trying to root your feet in the ground. You line up the shot and,

Bang. Your arm is flung back and your shoulder pops painfully. You groan, clutching your damaged shoulder with your free hand and lower the weapon. You can practically feel Seonghwa tsking at you.

“At least she did fall over that time.” Yeosang interjects. Seonghwa scoffs at his companion. Taking the handgun from your grip and sliding it into his holster.

“Yeah, instead she let her shoulder take the full force of the shot, that’s not any better.” Seonghwa shoots back. You’re too busy groaning over your arm to bother with their bickering, instead you wander over to the hood and sit next to Yeosang with a huff. Seonghwa watches on as you cradle your shoulder with a sour look on his face.

“How did you get him to agree to this in the first place?” Yeosang mumbles into your ear. You turn your head and watch as Seonghwa moves down the alley to collect the cans, bottles, and other target practices junk. You didn’t often divulge details of your relationship to the other members of Ateez and you couldn’t imagine Seonghwa talking about you to them. You smirked knowingly but said nothing as you watched your husband’s back.

“Did it have something to do with how you’re walking funny.”

Your head whipped to the man at your side. Once again, the members of Ateez were not necessarily privy to all the details of your relationship and honestly, they never had spent enough time around you to be close to you, so Yeosangs comment took you by surprise.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, feigning casualty. Yeosang, only peered at you looking down at you with a raised brow. He didn’t speak but you felt his disbelief in his stare. The man rolled his eyes, turning his head to watch Seonghwa as he began sauntering back in your direction, target practice in hand. Yeosang was silent for another moment before speaking quietly,

“Seonghwa’s not happy about this, not just teaching you to shoot he hates all of it. He hates the whole damn thing. Marrying you wasn't supposed to cause this many problems." The man's tone was unexpectedly cruel, the final words came out with so much heat it almost came across as antagonized. Like they had personally offended him. You couldn't help but take offense, as they were necessarily directed at you, you weren't the one leading the dissenting group, but you still felt responsible for obvious reasons. Before you had the chance to react to the words just shot in your direction Seonghwa approached, gun holstered, he tossed the cans and bottles into a rusted silver garbage can that lay forgotten on the pier.

Seonghwa stayed lost in thought, staring at the silver can for another moment before turning on his heel to face you both. His face was a mask of nothing, no emotion clouded his features. But you could tell it was a mask just by observing him. The tense roll of his shoulders and soft sigh as he walked up to the car would have been imperceptible to most, all but you. His eyes met the floor as he walked, scanning the ground without really looking, deep in thought. It's so obvious now that you’re looking for it, the weariness in his eyes when he looks up at you with a smile. You wonder how long it’s been there without your notice.

"Are we all done here?"

-

Silence had always been normal in your home, a peaceful kind of quiet. That night the silence wasn't peaceful; it was heavy and overbearing. When you both made it inside Seonghwa had practically waved you away, like he was dismissing one of his soldiers as he stalked into his study in the deepest corner of the house. You didn't follow him; you were too busy staring at his back as he walked down the hall. The wood floor creaked but from the way his shoulders slumped it could have been his joints. Your mind trailed back to the previous night, where you had crept into his study with him without a care. You scanned the memory, analyzing him for a hint, anything to suggest what specifically is troubling him, but the memory was foggy, your mind had been occupied with your own scheme for the evening.

Seonghwa had long since disappeared from your view, leaving you puzzling in the entry, staring after your husband. You had to pull yourself from your stupor. Shaking off the horrible foreboding feeling you huff and pull your coat from your shoulders. Hanging the coat in the hall closet you make your way to the kitchen. The sun hangs low on the horizon, pleasantly illuminating your kitchen in golden light, but your stomach squirmed. You initially pulled yourself to the kitchen to find something to eat but you found your appetite suddenly gone. Uneasy.

You shiver, the little hairs on the back of your neck standing up. You whip around, half expecting someone to be sitting at the table behind you, but you find nothing. Well not nothing, there's a letter on the table, was that there this morning? You can remember. Your hand is halfway to the envelope before you realize it has no stamp, and no address as well. It doesn't matter, Seonghwa probably just left it on the table this morning. Still, you pick up the envelope, flipping it over you see that it is not sealed, it looks like it never was.

Seonghwa told you that you weren't cautious enough, he reminded you of this fact regularly. You thought that you were plenty cautious, in fact, you had spent the better part of the last few months in a state of paranoia. Normally you would accept Seonghwa's concerns as just care and love, but with his current attitude you can't help but wonder if looking after you is the stressor to your husband you've been looking for, and if he is nearing his wit's end. A dreadful mix of guilt but also anger brews in your stomach. Your old mantra returns like an old friend "I didn't ask for this." You had accepted that, you really had. But you felt both sorry for and angry at Seonghwa for being burdened by you. He didn't have to marry you, he could have not, let you die instead.

It is that thought that drives you to action, you open the envelope the rest of the way, pulling the folded letter from inside. It takes you a moment, but suddenly you're looking at your name. It's printed in large, neat handwriting, beckoning you to read.

With a shiver, you consider the very real possibility that someone broke into your home and placed this on the table for you to find. Even as you think it’s hard to believe, this house is a fortress, the best security systems money can buy are only one of the things protecting it, not to mention constant surveillance and patrols keeping an eye on the whole neighborhood. The neighbors don't know, but they probably live on the safest block in the city.

Still, your fingers tremble as they unfold the paper, carefully opening it to read.

The page is blank, except for a single like on text written in the same large immaculate handwriting.

"Father's Headstone, 5pm, tomorrow"

You almost drop the paper. Someone had broken in, now you know for certain. You moved to alert your husband, but you halted. To tell Seonghwa the house had been broken into would require telling how you knew, but this letter wasn't addressed to him it was addressed to you.

Your brain was scolding you. Asking yourself how stupid you could be, someone had been in your home without Seonghwas knowledge, they could do it again, and next time they could wait till you were home alone and kill you. But once again something stopped you from moving to sound the alarm, hovering in the middle of the kitchen there was a still quiet voice in your head, whispering, working its way into your mind.

'They could have killed you already.'

This simple fact is the only thing keeping you from screaming bloody murder. If they could break in, they'd been watching the house, they knew you'd been away when they broke in, and they likely knew you were alone in the house for most days. If this intruder wanted, you dead you would be.

You wish you didn't know where your doubt in Seonghwa was coming from, but Yeosangs's words had changed you. You had never thought Seonghwa would get tired of protecting you, he had promised you he wouldn't, that conversation on your wedding night. But 'marrying you wasn't supposed to cause this many problems', the sentence made your head spin with its possible implications, especially from Yeosang. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke it was often critically honest, he had also always seemed to be the most level-headed aside from Hongjong and Seonghwa. You had always suspected that's why your husband often chose his company over the others. But he had seemed frustrated when he spoke, it seemed that the burden of keeping you alive was starting to wear on the other inner circle members of Ateez.

Seonghwa spent many hours with the inner circle, and for the first time, you realize Yeosang likely has a much better what's going on in your husband's mind than yours. And even if Seonghwa is kind, and attentive this marriage started as business and the goodness of Seonghwa's heart, but if this marriage is bad for business, then you wonder if Seonghwa will do what is best for Ateez or you.

With resolve you turn, on unsteady feet you make for the living room, with its roaring fire in the fireplace. You storm towards the mantle and throw the letter into the heart of the fire. You watch enraptured as the words on the paper start to burn. You want to watch them fade from existence. But before you have the chance to watch the paper disappear completely you hear a knock on wood.

Your head snaps around, Seonghwa stands in the archway, hand leaning on the column, watching you with his hawk eyes. You try incredibly hard not to look guilty. The heat from the fire dried your eyes when you blink, they water. Your hand comes up to quickly wipe the tears.

You see his eyes dip to the fire, and your eyes snap to where the last corner of the letter is turning to ash. By the time you've returned your eyes to his, Seonghwa is already returning your gaze. Did he see the letter? No, he couldn't have, it was basically ash. Even if he saw it there's no way he could have seen what it said that you knew for sure. But still, you don't think you're imagining his eyes narrow even just a fraction.

"Is everything okay, sweetheart?" Seonghwa asks, but you can tell he's puzzling you out.

You nod your head, feigning a smile, "Of course," Your voice breaks ever so slightly on the last syllable, but you cover it with a small cough.

He looks unconvinced, his plump lips formed into a thin line. The only light in the room is the fire; it cast a shadow on his already angular face making him look almost like a phantom in the low light. But soon he steps fully into the light, and back to normal, all shreds of suspicion are gone from his face. You breathe a small sigh of relief.

"I will be returning to work tomorrow, you call for one of the captains if you need anything," He says the words to you like you don't already know. You school your expression, trying to make yourself look calm.

"I would like to go to the cemetery tomorrow," you say, this time your voice is unnervingly steady. You decided damn all the caution and fear, they could have killed you and didn't, especially when so many in your life would without a second thought. You needed to know who was behind it. When you refocus on Seonghwa, his eyes are startlingly soft, it reminds you of the look he gave you when you first met, the look for a kicked puppy.

You realize he thinks your mourning your family, your lost brother, and your father. It hurts to know that even now when you suspect your presence in his house has become nothing but a problem for him, he is still trying to be attentive, but unfortunately, he came to the wrong conclusion. But on the bright side, you suspect that because of the sensitive topic, he won't ask any more questions, his curiosity is satiated.

"I'll have Wooyoung take you," he replied quietly, as if not to startle you. You want to argue, and find an excuse to go alone, but it would only reignite his suspicion, and he would never allow it anyway. You give him a small smile, playing up the sadness in your eyes.

"I'd like that,"

-

Wooyoung was less of a problem than you expected. You had spent all day brimming with anxiety, a sick nausea sitting in your stomach, as you waited for the man's arrival. Wooyoung was the loudest of the inner circle of Ateez, at least in your experience, which admittedly is not much. So when the sound of a supped-up engine came screaming down your street and parked on the street in front of your lounge window you could guess who the vehicle belonged to.

Wooyoung could also have a bad attitude from what you could see. You never saw much of him but one of the few times you had seen him, he had jumped to attention at a joke Mingi had made in poor taste, he got as close as possible to the tall man's face, pulling him down the rest of the way by his collar and tore into him, you had never heard such casual use of such vulgar language especially at that volume.

You didn't much feel like accidentally getting into a screaming match with the man. But luckily for you, your worry had been misplaced. Wooyoung had barely said a word to you on the drive, but you saw him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, Seonghwa had probably instructed him to keep an eye on you. But you had been so busy fretting over how you were going to slip away from the man that when Wooyoung killed the ignition in the parking lot of the cemetery and instructed you to come back to the car when you were done, you hadn't even had the time to be anxious over who it was you were supposed to be meeting.

You pushed open the car door without a glance back at the man in the driver’s seat. He stayed put, apparently unwilling or unable to be around someone who will most definitely cry over a dead loved one. You quietly thanked your lucky stars as you pushed open the gate and entered the cemetery. You imagine every entrance and exit of the cemetery is being watched right now, and you hope whoever you’re meeting knows that too.

It was too late to start worrying now over who would be there to meet you. You kept reminding yourself 'If they wanted me dead, I would be' and surprisingly, the thought comforts you. A sentiment only the daughter of a mob boss could feel and understand so intimately. Whoever it is your meeting does not wish for your death, at least not right now.

It is too late to dwell on that last thought. You pause at the foot of a small hill in the cemetery, at the top of it you would find your father's and brothers' graves underneath a shady tree. At the top of the hill, there is a man, you already know this is who you're here to see, staring down at the graves with their hands in their pockets.

You begin to climb the hill. You expect the man to turn to you as you climb as there's no way he missed the sounds of your approach. But the man stays put, looking down at the matching tombstones still shiny and new after only 2 years. As you pace up the grass, the details of the figure become more apparent, and your stomach sinks as you feel you recognize more and more of the man, but from where you cannot place. It isn't until you level out at the top of the hill does it hit you. It shocks you so much you almost fall to the ground, but your brain and body are too unresponsive to fall. It can't be, no, but he's dead.

Clearly not.

He turns his eyes, the same color as yours, bore into you. Your brother stands before you, alive.

"Kai?" His name sounds foreign on your lips, you don't have a reason to say it very often anymore.

"Don't cry, Sunshine," His voice breaks the silence. You hadn't noticed the tears streaming down your face, how could you when your brother has returned to you from death. All you can do is stare and take him all in. As handsome as you remember, though a bit older now. He was a few years your senior, so his age was starting to show a bit in the lines around his eyes. But still, your brother the same, in flesh and blood. Your heart swells at the old nickname from your youth, enough to spur your body into action without input from your brain. You crash forward into your brother's waiting arms and you feel so happy it hurts. You bury your face into his chest and your senses are filled with the familiar sensations, the smell, and the feel of your brother, hugging you just as close.

Your brain had stopped accepting new information for a few moments, just content with the feeling of peace you had not felt in many years. Your brother is here, under your fingers, not just a memory in your mind. You realize he is speaking quietly to you softly whispering the same thing over and over again. "I'm sorry."

You pull away confused, looking up at him with joy and bewilderment.

"What are you apologizing for?" you ask incredulously.

"For doing this to you," You think you understand. He means this world, this life that wasn't supposed to be yours, this burden you were never supposed to bear. You shake your head no, flicking droplets of tears from your eyes.

"It's ok, I've done alright for myself," You reply, though that statement may be up for debate, shooing away his worries. You can't help but marvel that he is standing before you.

"You were dead." You say it, looking up at him in amazement, obviously able to see before you that is not the case, but you were at a loss for words, and you needed answers.

"No, it only looked like I was dead. Dad was found with another dead body in the room with him, the face was unrecognizable in the face," Kai pauses to grimace, "But I guess he looked enough like me from the neck down. I think he was one of the people sent to kill him, but Dad took him down too. The right hand identified the body as me before they ever found me." As he speaks, he trails off, realizing he led you to a question he didn't want to answer.

"Where were you?" You pried, you didn't know if you wanted to know the answer or not honestly, but more than just your own conscious relied on his answer.

"Our father and I got into a fight that night,"

As he spoke, your heart broke for him, because you needed no more explanation. Your dad loved him, but you knew they never quite saw eye to eye, like any other father and son they had disagreements over things, to what extent you did not know. That usually resulted in Kai leaving the house in a huff to kick rocks and blow off steam. From what you saw these fights were not serious, they woke up the next day and would share a pot of coffee at the breakfast table like it was nothing. You can see it in your mind's eye, if they had fought before your father died your brother would no doubt have been implicated, and his habit of disappearing into the night would only make him look more guilty. Most crimes like this would mean nothing in your world, but to kill the boss as a member of the syndicate would be treated like treason.

You both stand in the uncomfortable silence for a few moments. There is one thing in all of this that you cannot find an explanation for. Your gaze lands on your dad's tombstone, subconsciously looking to him for answers.

"Why did you come back now?" You ask, not looking up.

At that Kai gave a long sigh, he knew this topic would rear its head.

"Seonghwa is up to something."

Your head snaps to your brother. Your heart roars to defend your husband from him. And so, you do, glaring at him like when you were kids and fix him with a stern look.

"You don't know him, he’s always up to something.”

Kai returns the gaze in kind, crossing his arms over his chest and adopting the even sterner tone of an older sibling.

"I know his rap sheet and so yes I know him" You see red, huffing and puffing you take a firm step forward to get up to his face.

"So what? You've done just as much Kai, don't pretend you're a saint now." You are uncharacteristically angry. Kai was next in line to lead your organization he had a reputation all his own, and as possibly your husband's only line of defense against your brother you stood your ground. Kai shakes his head,

"This isn't about me; our people have rules and lines we don't cross. Since he married my baby sister, I've been keeping an eye on him and he's been dealing with some very bad business lately, getting involved with the worst kind of people, the kind that doesn't play by our rules, they think their above them."

You shiver almost wanting to cover your ears. Seonghwa never told you too much about work, and most of the time you didn't want to know. What Kai is describing is not the kind you wanted to hear.

"Seonghwa doesn't keep me up to date on business," you say trying to causally hide the shake in your voice. At that Kai scoffs,

"Oh, I'll bet he doesn't," Resentment drips from his voice and it surprises you. Resentment is such a strong emotion, and surprising to see your usually chipper brother dripping with it.

"I've seen it, I've seen what he can be like. I know what he does, that doesn't change anything! It doesn't matter when you-" He cuts you off,

"What when you love someone? You can’t possibly be that naive." His tone is harsh, harsher than you expected. You almost flinch away. Your brother sees your confusion and distaste and schools himself, looking to the floor and taking a deep breath. When he looks up he is kind again.

"Park Seonghwa has seen and done things more barbaric than you can even imagine. Our father sheltered you more than you know." You are once again taken with the desire to defend your husband, tell your brother you know his heart and that is the truest part of him, but his words make you feel small. You knew that your dad had protected you, but you never would have called yourself naive. Unfortunately, you know you cannot deny your brother's claims, the more you thought the wider, vaster, and scarier the world seemed. You can’t even shoot a gun properly yet, Seonghwa doesn't even need a gun to take a life.

"I never trusted him as far as I could throw him" Your brother speaks into the silence.

At that, your eyes snap to him. You had never thought about the fact that Seonghwa and your brother knew each other. You assumed they didn't know each other well, Seonghwa had never mentioned Kai. But your brother's words made it sound otherwise. You had never felt a reason to be truly, awfully, angry with your husband before, but this felt close. Seonghwa is the only person you allow to see you grieve. To think he was withholding moments of your brother's life you'd never known. You imagine them sitting together in a smokey lounge, sipping bourbon and making small talk and thinly veiled threats amongst other young mobsters. You wonder what they spoke about, or even for how long they have known each other. All things Seonghwa had never shared with you.

Remembering the mobsters brought to mind your current predicament. Hunted by your father's lost right-hand Joongki, who is vying to take control. Questions swarm your mind like alarm bells, what did this mean for Kai? Is he in danger? Where is he staying? Is it safe? You take hold of his arms shaking him slightly with your intensity.

"Kai, you have to come with me. I can't explain it all right now, but as soon as people find out you're alive Joongki is going to come after you," you speak quicker than intended. It's Kai's turn to shake his head.

"You don't have to explain anything, I already know." He replies with a smile, "Remember who you're talking to," he says proudly, crossing his arms and pushing out his chest in a silly show, but it still rings true. You can't help but be softened by your brother's attitude, despite the work he did, he himself had always been a mood lifter, nothing could dampen his spirit. But the question still remains,

"How do you know? Most people don't even know he's alive?" as soon as I ask it I realize the irony, Kai notes it too with a head nod and a knowing smirk before continuing,

"I kind of used my presumed death to take a page out of your book sis," He explains with a shy smile, "I called up the police department, Of course, they wanted to arrest me right away for any one of the numerous crimes I've committed."

As he speaks, he leans in slightly as if letting and you two can't help but chuckle at the thought, "But since I had been already pronounced dead, I offered them a unique opportunity." He explains waging a finger at you, "I work with them as an undercover, to bring down other gangs. Nobody too close to home obviously, nowhere they'd recognize me. Nobody knows organized crime quite like a crime lord, and they needed the help." As he concludes he offers a small bow, as if he just performed a monologue or a memorized speech. You can't help but slowly applaud him while shaking your head at his theatrics.

You take the time to piece together the information he's given you and try to work it into your understanding. It makes sense that the cops would know Jiyong was back in town, there were enough officers on mobsters' payrolls to keep them somewhat well informed. Hell, Hongjoong might have told the police himself. And you suppose you could see how your brother's knowledge and skillset might set him up wonderfully for a life dismantling the one he grew up in. You look up at him and try not to cry for joy, because you could not have wished for a better future for your brother, even if he's meddling where he's not wanted. Since that day two years ago it had only been Seonghwa, you feel happiness proportional to the doubling of the size of your family.

In the distance, you heard the sound of a supped-up engine revving to life. You suppose that's Wooyoung subtly trying to encourage you to wrap it up. You check your watch, 6:15. You look around yourself, the sun is nearly setting, it's nearing fall for the sun to set so early. The air chill sets in carried by a breeze, which shakes the leaves. So, 3 years. You've nearly made it to your 3-year wedding anniversary.

"I need to go now Kai, Seonghwa will be expecting me home soon." You speak. Kai scowls, you can tell he doesn't like that idea, but you don't care. You're not just going to walk away from Seonghwa. You could never. You hug your brother for as long as time allows, instructing him to wait in the cemetery until the Ateez men leave.

You hurry back to the car, rubbing your eyes to make it look like you are crying. Despite this, you could not stop the smile from creeping onto your lips. In the car, Wooyoung still glances in your direction every so often, but you can see an extra layer of curiosity in his glances. He expected you to be inconsolable, instead, you are practically grinning ear to ear.

-

You tread softly on the hardwood in your hallway. Once again the big townhome is empty except for you, a condition you've grown used to. The moment you push open the white double doors to the master bedroom you shed your coat to the floor and exhale in comfort. You kick off your shoes, feeling the plush carpet beneath your feet as you pad to the connected master bathroom. As you walk your strip articles of clothing, eager to get into a warm bath as quickly as possible. You've made a mess on the floor that Seonghwa won't appreciate, but at the moment you don't care.

It could be hours before he gets home, even days if the situation calls for it. You knew better than to ask for more of his time, if you wanted to reap the benefits of being a gangster's wife like expensive soaks and bath bombs you had to be ok with the time away. It was the same with your father. Of course, when your father died you weren’t thinking about the pretty dresses he bought you, you were thinking about the little time you had with him.

With that sour thought, you climbed into the bath, letting the hot water and steam ease your body into relaxation. You were happy now, with no room for anxious thoughts. Your brother is back and alive, what more could you hope for? You should be elated and nothing else. You close your eyes and try to force calm into your thoughts. But you can't, you’re still upset with Seonghwa, but the thought of him dead makes your skin crawl. Your body reacts more physically to the thought than you anticipated, and shivers go down your spine.

Whatever Kai's issue with Seonghwa is needs to be resolved soon if he's going to return to your life, and you want him too badly. Most people never get the chance to see their dead loved ones again, and you will do anything in your power to keep him this time. But you can't tell Seonghwa, that much is obvious. You're already burdening him; you can't overfill his plate.

You sink lower into the bath, submerging yourself in the water trying to drown out the overbearing thoughts. You stay there, lying flat on your back under the bubbles for as long as your lungs let you your eyes are screwed shut to avoid any soap getting into your eyes. you breach the surface when you run out of air, pushing your soaked hair back and rubbing your eyes. When you open them Seonghwa stands at the foot of the porcelain tub, looking down at you in his crisp unbuttoned navy suit jacket and pressed trousers. His hands are shoved into the pockets of the slacks, his face a marble statue of unreadable stone.

'Wooyoung brought you to the cemetery today." It doesn't sound like a question, so you don't answer it like one. You know what the pause means, he is thinking over his words, choosing the best to fit his purpose. You search his eyes trying to find what it is he's seeing in you, but you can't, he really is carved from stone.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

His choice of words absolutely throws you. You have to catch your mouth from dropping open like a fish. For a second you think he knows, there's no way he chose those words accidentally. But it is that same though that wrangles your reaction and your racing heart before either can reveal you. Seonghwa is practiced at getting people to reveal more than they intend to. You know how effective an open-ended question can be, so many people talk themselves into traps. You are his wife, he can read you but you can also read him, you are on an equal footing in this.

"Yes, I think I did," you say the words with an earnest smile, knowing that the words are true. You did now know what you were looking for when you walked in but you are glad you were brave enough to look.

If Seonghwa did not expect such an honest reaction from you he did not show it.

"I'm glad to hear it," He replies, matching the sincerity in your tone. Yours was fake, it’s possible his is as well.

You watch carefully as he walks around the side of the tub, his expensive leather shoes clacking on the marble floors. From near the cupboard, he pulls a small stepstool, setting it on the floor beside the tub. Seonghwa pulled his suit jacket from his shoulders with a huff, undoing the cuffs of his freshly ironed Oxford shirt, and rolled the sleeves past his elbows. How he can manage a day doing his job and still look so pristine at the end of the day was a marvel to you. When he is done, he sits on the stool facing you.

You raise an eyebrow at him, and your hand slips up from the water to rest on the side of the tub in front of him. Seonghwa's fingers find yours, he runs his dry hand across yours and slowly up your arm and goosebumps follow in its wake. You let yourself enjoy the touch because your heart still hums happily when he does. At your shoulder, he brushes wet hair from your neck before taking your chin lightly in his hand.

You think he's going to kiss you. Maybe that's why it almost works.

"What was on that piece of paper?" He asks the question casually, but you know it is anything but. You don't let yourself be startled by him mentioning the letter. This was another mask, you could see it clearly since you'd started paying attention. He was acting, acting like your husband, when right now he wasn't. Right now, he is the underboss of Ateez. This is an integration tactic. You feel just the tiniest bit of your heartbreak at the realization that for the first time since your wedding day, you and Seonghwa were not a single unit or a united front, right now you're playing against each other, and it made you sick.

Luckily for you, you don't have to lie to conceal the truth, it will mean a very different thing to him than you.

"It was a note, from my brother." You reply quietly, almost somber. That was by design, this is your mask, mourning. You can see a flash of guilt in his eyes, and you know your trick worked. His hand dropped to hang limping over the side of the tub.

Over the course of the past two days, you had accidentally and on purpose spun a pretty lie to your husband. From his perspective, all he saw was his wife finding an old note from her dead brother and reawakening her grief. Although it's clear he has his suspicions. You suddenly feel very proud of yourself for beating Seonghwa in this battle of wits, as you can't always do it.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he says and you know he means it but you shake your head at him.

"Don't be, it's a good thing" You reply, meaning it just as much.

-

You spend the next week anxiously waiting to hear from your brother. You hope he will reach out to you, to give you both more chances to talk and explain things to each other, but it has been radio silence. On Friday the nauseating anxiety came back even stronger. You dreaded the worst, that Joongki had found Kai and that your brother was already dead again. The thought makes you ache.

But you don't have to suffer through much more. The next Monday you received another note calling you deep into the city at a hidden speakeasy for your next rendezvous with your brother.

Seonghwa had been tough to crack to let that one slide. You had wanted to get him to agree with as little details as possible, for the sake of your privacy. But that hadn't worked out as well as you planned. You couldn't agree to let any of the Ateez members go with you, and for that, you had used the excuse of an old girlfriend from college wanting to catch up as if any of them knew how to contact you anymore. An Ateez boy would scare her, and Seonghwa could see that. The problem came when Seonghwa pressed for details on the location. If you denied him, he'd become more suspicious. You thought it best to just tell him and hope the path of least resistance allows you to slip through.

Your plan worked but not perfectly. on the day of he pressed the keys of his sleek black car into your palm and told you to drive safe. You knew that car had an advanced GPS that he could track through Ateez's security system, he would know if you veered off course. You had no intention of doing any such thing. You just hoped as you arrived that was all the precautions he'd taken.

You had gone into that meeting with a plan. A strong desire to straighten things out between the two men in your life, but the opportunity had never presented itself. Kai somehow with his disarming jokes and warm smiles seamlessly led the conversation wherever he wanted. Where he wanted was memory lane. All evening you drank and talked about your life as kids, it had been a long time since you’d laughed with anyone and it felt nice so you let it happen.

It's then that he asks about Seonghwa after you've reminisced and enjoyed yourself. You are thankful for the distraction, but now it is hard to focus on much of anything much less the complex relationship between you and our husband. You're both slurring your words as he emotionally asks you questions about your relationship.

It’s typical things a brother would say

"Sss- Sunshinee, you gotta tell me!" Kai asks, clasping an arm to your shoulder and looking at you with hard eyes.

"Does he treat you well?"

The response was hard, hard to say, and hard to remember. It was also getting hard to remember the number of drinks you've had. Your head feels heavy as it starts to droop to the side. The next question was easy, even in your current state,

"Does he protect you?"

You had replied with a resounding yes, nodding your head at him with certainty, though the motion made your eyes lose focus and you had to work to regain it. You wowed Kai with the tale of your shooting lessons and how Seonghwa had been against you even holding a weapon.

At that information, Kai had pulled his own gun from his belt and smashed it on the table. You jumped in your seat turning to him with annoyance about to chew him out for scaring you, but he had the words out first.

"I want you to take this,"

You had shook your head no, and swatted weakly at him as he pushed the metal into your grasp. You didn't want it. you didn't ask for the gun why is he pushing it in your hand? You make a distressed noise, some heads turn to look in your direction and you curse, slipping the weapon into your purse. Even when drunk you try hard to keep control of your wit and pay attention to your surroundings but you know that today you forgot that. Your eyes scan the room and even drunk you know your mistake. Your stomach drops enough to make your head slump forward in shame.

"Kai you need to leave," You say, tapping at him trying to draw attention to the tall man making his way across the lounge to your table. Kai, though he was drunk as a sunk only seconds before gets to his feet with surprising agility. Your last drink of alcohol hits you and you feel it drain any chance of you standing up to follow.

"I'll see you, tomorrow sis, I’ll come find you,"

You hear the words and smile at the knowledge you will not have to wait another week to see him. A shadow falls over your table, blocking out the light from one of the dim chandeliers. You're not afraid, it's only Yunho and Jongho. The two, despite being the muscle of the inner circle had always seemed the gentlest to you. Perhaps that is why you let them pull you from the booth and toward the door. You are not in mortal danger with these two, so your brain floats back to thoughtlessness.

As your bodyguards walks you to your husband's car, they are careful not to touch you as you slump down into the passenger seat with a huff and a drunken babble. Yunho gingerly buckles you in place, before closing the door. Your head spins as you lean into the seat, happy to find it already reclined to your preferred position. You get comfortable in the darkness. You know that inevitably when you get out of the car, they will be depositing you back with Seonghwa, along with the information that it was not a girl you were there to see. Faintly you wonder if the two happened to be there tonight or if Seonghwa had sent them to spy on you.

When you get home, the awaiting conversation will be unpleasant.

Yunho slides into the driver's seat. You notice him open your purse. If Yunho knows you're not supposed to have the gun concealed in the small bag he says nothing, finding the keys he pushes them into the ignition and brings the car to life.

On the drive back your head tilts, leaning on the cool glass of the window. You don't speak, your head is still spinning, and it isn't Yunho you're going to need to explain yourself too. You try to block out the dread building in you, and the alcohol makes it easier to forget your worries. Soon, you're asleep.

-

Distantly you remember being woken up by the car coming to a stop in front of your home, and if you really try to remember, images of your husband’s face as he laid you down on your bed also swirled in your thoughts.

You stir in bed, eyes still closed. Distantly you trace your hand across the silk sheet, petting the soft material. When you lift your head it pounds, the alcohol leaving your system. You hiss through your teeth at the pain. You open your eyes and look at the window, it's still dark outside. Your eyes flick to the clock. 3:32 am. You groan, and roll over, intending on going back to sleep, but when you automatically reach for Seonghwa's body lying next to you, you realize he's not there. And then you remember the events of the night that led you to this point.

You push yourself from the bed resolutely and your bare feet plant themselves on the carpet floor. It would be so easy to go back to sleep and let this be a problem for the morning, but you have to at least know if Seonghwa is in the house, or if what Yunho told him was enough for him to disappear into the night.

It doesn't take long for you to find him, as the only light in the house is coming from beneath his office door. He probably heard you descend the creaky wooden stairs, but he doesn't look up when you push the door to his office open. His broad back is to you when you enter, facing out the window into the dark night of the city around us. There's a fancy glass bottle of amber liquid on his desk, and a glass in his hand. Seonghwa wasn't a drunk, he didn't have the liberty to not be in his right mind most of the time. But he's been drinking tonight, at least since you've been asleep.

He doesn't turn as you cross to the leather sofa and sit down, your feet curling under you as you sit, making yourself small in his office, as if that would lessen the anger bubbling under the surface of his skin. He's angry, that's for certain, even just from looking at his back you can see the stiffness and rigidity, the tension in his muscles.

You watch as he raises the glass to his lips, taking a last drag to clear the glass. He still hasn’t turned.

"Where'd you get the gun, Sweetheart?

The nickname carries none of the usual affection.

Of course, you can't answer him. You couldn't betray your brother’s trust. You only just got him back; you will keep his secret going for his own protection. But it's only now that you realize what that may cost you. The truth is that you feel guilty, guilty for what happened to him. Maybe if you had been stronger your father would have involved you more in the business, you could have helped him and maybe stopped the whole misunderstanding from happening. It felt like you betrayed your brother by giving up on him so easily, just believing he was dead without question. You can’t see how this will play out, you don’t know how to reconcile your love for your husband with your need to protect your brother as the two were at complete odds.

When you don't say anything Seonghwa turns around. His face, which could be so soft and inviting, was all hard lines and sharp angles. The look he planted on you was piercing, suspicious, and calculating. He was watching you like he watches his business associates, analyzing your every move. It fills you with contempt to be looked at like this by him. Like one of his enemies. It’s true you’re deceiving him, but never would you betray him and it offends you that he seems to think you’re capable of that. It only makes you more defensive.

"Who gave you the damn gun." Seonghwa's voice cuts you like a knife, but you say nothing, your gaze dropping to the floor. You feel your lip tremble and you curse yourself for already feeling close to tears. There's no way to make him understand, you have no answer for him, not one that's yours to give. Seonghwa rounds the desk in a flash, moments later he's standing in front of you, arms crossed, eyes laced with venom, and a snarl on his lips.

"Who the fuck is he then, this man that's been writing you letters you feel the need to burn. He's getting you to sneak out, he's getting you drunk. What else has he been getting you to do?"

At that your gaze snaps up, your eyes just as fiery as his. Logically, you know how this must look to him, but you feel scorned by the very notion. Did he not remember that all you ever wanted from him was a happy marriage, and he had given you that. So how could he not trust that you meant it when you needed nothing else?

"What are you accusing me of Seonghwa?" You ask and your tone is icy. You glared up at him to challenge him, daring him to say it. After your 3 years together, through every obstacle that could have broken you apart, you both stood firm. How could he think so low of you?

"I think you know," He growls, the answer coming from deep in his chest. His eyes darken, and for a second you wonder if you should be afraid of him right now. But you not, you’re enraged.

"I want to hear you say it," You spit back. Would he be able to say it to you? Admit out loud what his conclusion suspicions came to? You think about how worried you had been to be a burden on him, and you feel that your suspicions have been proven correct. Maybe this was just a way out for him, to rid himself of the burden for caring for you. If that is true, you knew your resolution to keep Kai a secret from him is the right one, you needed a support system outside of this marriage if you could not rely on Seonghwa anynmore.

"You asked me to learn to use a gun." He starts, leaning over you with a leer, "Ever since then I've been able to tell you're keeping something from me. And now Yunho tells me he found you cuddled up next to some guy who ran off the second Yunho got close. And apparently, that man gave you this gun." As he speaks, he pulls the same weapon from his holster and slams it down on the coffee table. You jump at the noise, unable to stop it, but Seonghwa carries on.

"So my question for you, Sweetheart, is why the man you've been sneaking around with gave you it, did he tell you to kill me? and then you two could run away together?" It's not your husband speaking to you, its a hardened criminal, a man who has been taught by this world to suspect everyone and expect the worst. You feel your heart breaking because you never thought that that included you. Obviously, you were wrong.  

The most frustrating part is that with the information Seonghwa has, it would not have been a hard conclusion to come to for someone who has reason to distrust. But he was supposed to trust you. In fact, you wanted to scream in his face, how could you even have the opportunity to cheat on him when you've been on house arrest for months? But that's not what you say.

"Do you really think I'm capable of that?"

You can tell your words take him aback, his hard facade dropping for just a second when he processes your words. He's remembering, who you are, the girl he married, sitting on the leather sofa in your father's office looking as small and weak as you do right now. She would not be capable of doing what he's accusing you of. She is you, and although a lot has changed, does he really think you could change that much?

You can see him following that same thought process, his eyes glazing over as he thinks. But unfortunately, he's been in this world longer than he's been married to you, and it's clear which side of him is winning in his mind, underboss over husband. And his suspicions are not so easily forgotten.

"Out."

Seonghwa grits his teeth as he speaks, holding back more than he says. His eyes swim with emotion, more now than ever before.

"Excuse me?" You ask incredulously after processing his command. It was your turn to be taken aback.

"I said, get out."

Seonghwa had never spoken to you like this, cold almost uncaring. It was an order, like the ones he gave his men. Only this is out of anger, for fear of what he might say or do to you if you stay. He's turned apathetic, dismissing all of the emotion that was there only moments ago. Now when he looks at you, his eyes hold nothing.

Those words were the straw that broke the camel’s back. You felt your heart in your throat, and you were doing your best to choke back tears without his notice. Seonghwa spun on his heel, pacing back to the behind the desk. Ignoring you to seethe out the window as you stand on shaky feet.

"Ok, then. I'm leaving." You say aloud, trying to keep your voice neutral, despite how much you want to sob.

You know full well that Seongwha only meant to leave his office, as your presumed house arrest was still in place. But when he gave you the command, all you could think about was your brother's old habit, of disappearing into the night to blow off steam. You can't go back to bed, not now when the empty other side would only taunt you even more. You needed to be out of the house, having never quite understood Kai as well as you do at this moment. You go upstairs and change into something nondescript enough to not draw attention on an early morning walk.

-

You had slipped through a window on the ground floor of your home to leave. You doubt after the argument you just had that Seonghwa would have stopped you if you had just walked right out the front door, but you didn't much feel like risking it.

You walked for a while. The cool morning air does more to ease your heavy heart than you anticipated. The memory of the argument was still a pressing weight on your chest, restricting your breathing with each step, but the beginnings of the sunrise just barely beginning to lighten the sky was a calming influence on your still racing heartbeat.

You had never felt so shaken, hurt, and betrayed. But the morning walk had already made you come to terms with the fact that you had not helped you case much at all. But you didn't know how to make Seonghwa see, without exposing more than you should.

With the streets as quiet as they are, it would have been hard not to notice the sounds of a car turning down the street. You look up at the noise, glancing over your shoulder subconsciously. You are suddenly no longer upset, sad, or even angry. No, how could you be? When all you can feel is cursing hot adrenaline pounding in your ears and ice-cold fear grips your heart.

A van is slowly making its way down the street. It's all black, even the windows and the hubcaps. No logos or phone numbers are displayed on the side, this is no workman's vehicle. It's 4:30 a.m. on a quiet morning on a quiet street, and the van is entirely out of place as there is nothing here for it, except you.

The corner is approaching, your feet away, once you're around it whoever it is will still be close, but they won't be able to see you and that's the best chance you have. Your head strains to not look over your shoulder again, they are moving slowly, and you don't want them to know what you're planning to do. The second you round you start to run, full steam ahead down the sidewalk. By no means the subtlest thing you could do but what other choice do you have? There's no one around, you could reach for your phone but with their van, they would be on you before anyone could even pick up, much less help you. The thought makes you choke back a sob as you run, the idea of calling Seonghwa now, hours after he lectured you begging him to come and save you. Your brain curses your husband, as you clench your teeth, looking over your shoulder at the corner, no van yet, but you must have only seconds. If Seonghwa had not taken the gun your brother gave you you would be able to fight, defend yourself, maybe even get away.

You push those thoughts from your mind, partially because you have no time for them, partially because they are not true to your heart. The thought of Seonghwa appearing now to save you is embarrassing but is also the single greatest desire of your heart. Your eyes scan the road, looking for an alley, fence, or gate, anything that you could slip behind and use for cover as you make your escape. Adrenaline as your senses heightened and you can hear the sound of the van making its approach. Without time or options left, you dive behind some crates outside a small shop, hoping that whoever is in the van will carry on down the street, assuming you slipped away.

Time slows to a crawl. Your heartbeat pounds in your head as you focus on the sound of the van rounding the corner. It rolls along the pavement for about 30 seconds without change, coming nearer and nearer to your hiding spot. Your heart jumps into your throat when you realize you hear the van slowing to a stop, and you flinch aggressively when the sound of car doors swinging open hits your ears. You can feel your hands shaking and you press them into the cool concrete of the pavement trying to keep you from losing composure. Boots smack onto the ground, more than one pair, but you can't tell how many.

You suck in a breath, unable to exhale as the boots being spreading up and down the street.

"Ok, little lady, cute trick, but how bout you come on out" A gruff voice calls. Pure ice runs through your veins but you stay silent. It's quiet for five of your pounding heartbeats.

"I'm losing patience! We will find you so why don't you make it this way! The voice calls out, and pricks of spite seep into the words, you desperately try to place the voice, but you cannot. There is another pause, but then the sounds of shuffling boots.

"Come on little lady, you've got an appointment,"

They were getting closer. Any moment you would be found. And then what? Shot? killed right here on the street like an animal? You’re not far from home, and the thought makes you retch to die so close to safety but your brain swims with even worse images of your body being dumped on your front porch. Or even worse yet, they don't kill you here, they drag you away to do even worse things, things that would make you wish you were dead. Seonghwa would know, he knows these kinds of men and their minds, he would know their intentions. Before you can finish your spiraling the sound of boots just on the other side of the crates makes you freeze, you don't dare even to think for fear of making a noise.

"Kick it over." The voice calls.

What?

Before you have time to think about it something crashes against the pile of crates, sending the pile toppling over onto you. You can't help but scream in fear, revealing your location though they clearly could already tell. A box that had been perched right on top came falling down, the first box to collide with you but not the last. The crate cracks against your skull, just above the eye socket. Pain like you had never felt before sprouted from the spot, but in the next second, it was gone when the back of your head hit the concrete knocking you out.

-

When you come too, your hands are bound and there is something over your head keeping you blind. The next thing you realize is the pain radiating from your skull, back, and ribs. The crate pile had fallen on all of you, that you remember, but with the way your head spins even in complete darkness, the throbbing beating in your skull keeping all other pain to a dull buzz, you couldn't be sure if your injuries were from the crates or you’re handing after you lost consciousness.

Your knees fell onto cold hard concrete, and you couldn’t help but wince, bruises would already be forming on the bare skin. Without your hand to steady yourself at the rough treatment you fell in a heap on the floor. Only to shriek again when calloused hands grasped the ropes binding your hands together and pulling you upright. The rope stung as its weathered fibers dug into your wrists.

Your head was pounding. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You had not inhaled since you were thrown to the floor and the lack of oxygen only made your trembling worse. You shuddered a breath, but it did nothing to calm your nerves. The sounds of others moving about the room and the approaching footsteps made your stomach sink lower and lower with every step.

Light flashes in front of your eyes so blinding that you only manage a second before shutting them. You could feel a room full of stares on you, it was all you could do to peek your eyes open enough to see that whatever had been up over your head had been removed, only to be replaced by the figure of a skinny man and the glint of a gun.

It was him, of course, it was. You weren’t an idiot. You couldn’t feel proud of your deduction, not when pain and terror were all you could manage.

He was staring down at you from his full height, a smug look of accomplishment seared onto his features.

“My my, how you’ve grown.”

The words felt like a slap across your face. This man had helped raise you. You had mourned his supposed death, and now he stood over you, shoving that back in your face.

You were still terrified. But if you were going to make it out of this alive, you are gonna have to be smart and maybe, just maybe, get angry.

“Joongki”

“So, I heard you got yourself married, and to Park Seonghwa of all people. Now why did you have to go and do that. If you had stayed gone you could have lived.”

His words burned in your mind. Cold-blooded rage filled you. Your family died, you were at your absolute lowest, you had no fucking choice but to come back. If he hadn’t disappeared in the first place you would have been happy to hand over that responsibility to him. And now he’s blaming it all on you.

“That was smart of you. Handing off responsibility to someone who knows what they are doing. I’m proud of you, kiddo.” Joongki says with a sinister smile.

Another log on the flame. You still shook, your body still aches, but you willed yourself to speak with an even tone.

“Why am I still alive Joongki?”

At that he cracked into a full grin.

“Scared? Don’t worry darling, you won’t be for much longer." He asks with a chortle.

“I'm not scared” You shoot back, only barely concealing your seething. He stares at you in mild disbelief and amusement for a moment before speaking.

“And why is that?”

“Because when my husband gets here and I’m not alive? He’s going to do more than kill you,” you say the words, but your voice shakes. You are afraid, more afraid than you have ever been. And maybe, slightly, horrifyingly, you realize you've begun to doubt Seonghwa's need for you. You've started keeping secrets from each other, both of you, and Yeosong's words sear into your memory like a tattoo. 'Marrying you wasn't supposed to cause this many problems.'

“Is that what you think, do tell me more.” he replies.

“You haven’t been around in a while Jiyoung, you haven’t seen them at their worst.” your voice trembles, but it is your rage keeping you talking, overpowering the fear.

"And you have?" he asks in disbelief.

But you can't answer, you know you haven't. You know that now that you have been attacked, bound and thrown into the back of a bus. You think of your brother's words on the hill, 'seen and done things more barbaric than your mind can imagine.' You have a feeling you're about to experience some of these things at Joongki’s hand, and you scream at yourself for ever being cocky enough to leave your home unprotected just to prove a point. Well, this is where that has gotten you.

A door behind you didn't know was there crashed open with a bang. And a single pair of light quiet footsteps came through the door. unease entered your stomach and grew with the smirk on !!!! face.

"Why don't you leave us everyone,"

No, no, no, fuck God no. Why did it have to be him? The figure walks around your side, coming to stand at in front of where you kneel on the floor. Your eyes fix to the floor as they brim with tears, your heart breaking all over again as if you could stand to lose him one more time.

"Look at me," The voice of your brother calls, his words had only just been ringing in your mind. It shatters you. Crumbling every last piece of resolve and fight left in you. The past 24 hours have brought you nothing but anger and heartache and the single reprieve from all of it has been the single, glorious, monumental idea that your brother was alive, and every wrong choice for you had been the right one for him.

And now you're here, tied up at his feet, broken, beaten, and bruised. You don't look up. You can't meet his eye. You hear him sigh, you hear the scrape of metal, and see the legs of the chair he sets up before taking a seat but you still don't look at his face. You stay like that for a few moments, cowering at the foot of your brother while he holds you captive.

"Up here Sunshine." he goads.

The nickname makes your skin crawl. That name was for family, no family would do this to you. You say nothing allowing your mind to spiral into despair. This latest blow has taken all the fight from you, all the anger from moments ago. Slowly you raise your head to meet his gaze, if he's expecting anything more from you than the blank stare you give he will be sorely disappointed, emoting is the last thing you can do. Your brother smirks down at you, revealing more and more as the second passes just how satisfied he is with himself.

"I thought you were a cop." Your voice is hoarse and dry in both timbre and tone, who knows how long it's been since you've drank water. Its not a question, but he knows what it means. I need answers. The story he told you clearly was a lie, how much you don't know. Half of you doesn't even care, at this point what difference does it make, he betrayed you all the same.

"You want to hear how it actually went down?" He's almost giddy asking, eager to expand upon your misery. You stay silent, there are no words to fit your situation, the anger, the despair, the hopelessness, but most of all the betrayal paralyzes you, keeping you from doing anything but listening. He waits only for a moment, but once it's clear he will get nothing from you he carries on without another beat.

"Dear old dad and I got into a bit of an argument that night," he began, the wild grin on his face showed you he would be only to delighted to explain it to you, his master plan.

"I had been losing big at the Ateez casinos. I admit I lost a lot, but that fat old man had all the money in the world, so imagine my fucking surprise when I came to him, asking for a small loan to pay off the guys over there, and he tells me to get lost." Your mind is swarming with new information, you can’t even begin to consider Ateez's involvement with this story when your brother is talking like a monster. But he does not stop, not waiting for you to follow along.

"He was spouting some shit about how it would teach me responsibility to find my own money. Like responsibility makes any damn difference to us," Your brother grumbles the last part, and it gives you flashbacks to times when your brother would pout over you not sharing snacks and it adds fuel to the fire eating you up from the inside.

"I killed Dad,"

The words ring in your ears like a gunshot, and they are as good as. Your body crumples and you can't stop the sob from ripping through your chest. They have mortally wounded you. Betrayal of the deepest kind. You cried for this man, you mourned him with your whole being, you thrust yourself into this life to protect his and your father's memory and this is the thanks you receive. Hot wet tears pour from your eyes.

"I guess it wasn't necessary, but you weren't there, you don't know. I didn't wanna stop once it started." You retch, your disgust and sorrow so deep that your body is trying to rid itself of whatever is making it feel this way, but your stomach is empty after so little meals, and it only causes you more pain. No one had ever bothered to tell you how your family had died, you knew that meant violently, you knew they had been killed, all of this you could never imagine.

"Then came the hard part, some of Dad's advisors knew he was going to meet me, and I couldn't have anyone know I killed him, otherwise they'd never let me in charge, so for the time being I had to be dead too. Luckily knew just the guy." Your brother almost giggled at the mention of Jiyong, knowing that had to have been another nasty shock for me.

"It was hard work finding a guy that looked enough like me, wasn't hard to mess with his face enough once we'd killed him to make him identifiable as me, especially as the boy next to Dad." Your Brother carried on, recounting his horrible tale to you, leaving you as broken mentally as his men had left you physically.

"And all we had to do was wait, wait for the timing to be just right, wait for your big moment of weakness to swoop down and reclaim my throne," your brother sat up straighter, with his chin held high. Then as if snapping himself from his own daydream he looks down on you with more vile hatred than you have ever seen before.

"But then you had to go and get married to Park fucking Seonghwa, and hand over my entire kingdom!" the more your brother spoke the more unhinged his mind became. His madness was consuming him, and at the moment all of that anger was directed down onto you. He stands, so quickly it topples the metal chair, and you flinch, curling in on yourself, no longer willing to engage with this stranger you thought you knew. So, what if he killed you for it, you felt dead already.

Theirs an incredibly loud crash, forcing your eyes open, and when you look at the man you realize he flung the chair into the stone wall and was panting heavily while facing it. He whipped around back to you as if all the anger was expelled from his body in that one action.

"Now you understand Sis, there are no hard feelings really, but you are the one who had to go and ruin things by getting married, but luckily for you, we can turn this into a happy accident."

"What is it you want from me" you sob in a whisper, unable to look at the man anymore. Was the brother you knew ever real?

"Before our best hope was regaining our old territory, but since my baby sister is such a charmer, I now have the perfect bargaining chip over Ateez, it's about time someone taught those boys some responsibility" Your brother's voice twisted with sick delight. Your body starts before your brain, lurching you off the ground. Seonghwa.

You had betrayed him and you had done it on purpose. You could never have imagined that the letter would lead to this. You curse yourself, hate yourself even more than you hate the man in front of you. All of this, the whole great stinking mess, every problem started with you and your ineptitude. And now your brother was going to make Seonghwa and the rest of Ateez pay for it.

You no longer know what or how to think.

You don’t notice him leaving, you’re to numb. Even the aches and pains in your body are dull in comparison to the vast emptiness you feel inside. You’re glad the man is gone and out of your sight but some part of you perhaps the little girl who loved her big brother very much, misses him and wishes he was here to pull you up off the floor and protect you from any more harm. But that brother doesn’t exist anymore, you've already mourned him when he "died" The man who came back is a cruel stranger.

You don't know how long you lay there feeling empty, or when the brutes drag your unresponsive body to a small room and lock the door. Your mind barely recognizes the cramped space, but as you gaze around the dark space you realize it's a small supply closet, though whatever was once stored here is gone. You don’t have the energy to sit up, so your body curls in, conserving its body heat and you let your mind still feel too shocked to concentrate on any one thought. You remember faintly as you succumb to exhaustion, your brother embracing you on the hill in the cemetery saying, "I'm sorry for doing this to you," Before you have time to ponder it, you've fallen into a restless sleep.

-

When you wake you are lying flat on your back. You don't know how long you've been asleep but from the way your head still pounds it was certainly not long enough. But you don't feel awful. Your eyes crack open and you're staring at a blank ceiling, but it's bright not the dark room you collapsed in. Turning your head, you see paper curtains surrounding where you lay, an IV bag hangs from its rack to your right. You follow the thin tube as it trails through the air and into your arm. You want to be alarmed, to stand up and rip the tube from your skin and make your escape, but you're still so exhausted. You take notice of your body for the first time, covered in a blanket, you flex your fingers and toes. You notice that some of the pain is gone. The surface scratches and bumps that you got in your capture have been bandaged, and you have a feeling the IV is pumping you full of fluids to aid the dehydration that is surely one of the causes of the pounding in your head.

Your head turns when a small gasp breaks the silence. There's a woman, moving aside one of the curtains to look in on you. It’s obvious.

whoever this woman is it's obvious she's not a doctor, but she comes back she's holding a small plastic cup with 2 pills jostling against the sides you can tell she was the one treating you.

"What is that"

"Painkillers She can tell you don't trust her, by the suspicious look you give the plastic cup.

"Fine then, don't take them. makes no difference to me. Your brother put you in here for me to keep you alive, nothing more." She's putting on a brave front in front of you, but her eyes give her away. Unease pours from them, along with concern, but she doesn't let herself display either as she gets up and walks away, taking the pills with her. You can see her story clear as day. She was medically trained, maybe even used to be a doctor, but now she's here, working for your brother. She once had a dream to help people, and now she's keeping prisoners and gang members alive when they can't go to a hospital. It reminded you of yourself, and you couldn't help but feel sorry for the woman.

Guys come for you and push you into the same room from before and tie you to a metal chair at a metal table. Kai is already there, he's smiling.

"This is gonna be fun," He muses, eyes flashing wildly. He looks almost giddy, putting a hand out flat motioning for something. One of the men in the room walks forward and drops an old cell phone into his palm. Clearly, the number had already been dialed because all Kai did was press dial before it started ringing.

The dial tone rings intermittently, blaring in the silence of the room. You don't speak, you just stare right into your brother's eyes without blinking. In your current state, the best form of defiance you can give him is not being afraid, even though you have every reason to be. You are done feeling afraid, after years of paranoia, it all came true. The thoughts that kept you up at night, being hunted and attacked and taken, inevitably to be killed. You're living it now; fear will do you no good.

"Seonghwa, long time no speak buddy," Kai speaks into the microphone, his tone is coy and teasing. He dropped the phone onto the metal table after clicking it to speaker. It creates a loud clash of banging sounds. The metallic screech reverberates around the room. Despite how long it takes to quiet Seonghwa is silent for several seconds more.

"Kai," Your husband's voice replies flatly into the receiver. You're shocked to hear that Seonghwa recognizes your brother from voice alone. Kai doesn't seem surprised; in fact he cracks a grin.

"You'll never guess who I have here," Kai says in a singsong.

"Oh, I think I can. Put her on the phone." Seonghwa's voice is collected and calm, with not a hint of worry or concern in his tone. You remember that when you last spoke, he thought you were cheating on him. You hope that he figures it out and realizes who could be the only person you could ever trust as much as him is your own flesh and blood. Of course, now you know that was a mistake, Kai manipulated you to get you to lose faith in your husband, and once you trusted him, you listened to him and let him lead you right out from Ateez's watchful eye.

Kai motions for you to speak. You open your mouth on impulse, ready to call out to Seonghwa but your voice catches, words evading you. The quiet of the room is suffocating and it is on you to break it. With a great amount of effort and a very deep breath, you say the only thing you can manage.

"I'm here," your voice is still rough, and barely above a whisper, but it cuts through the air like a hot knife, breaking and building the tension at the same time. The only sound from the phone is an exhale.

"There you go Buddy, she’s alive, We can get right to our chat," Kai says, smirking like he won a prize. He leans back in his chair with a relaxed expression.

"Keep the chat to yourself, if I wanted to talk to a smug prick, I'd have called you myself."

In the absence of fear, you feel resentment. How dare Seonghwa sit there and make fucking wisecracking remarks while you're tied to fucking chair. You hate it, you hate hearing them talk, being reminded of what your husband kept from you. You asked him to spare you the gory details, not keep all of this from you just for you to find out here. Perhaps if he hadn't you would have known not to trust this man you could have turned and run the second you saw him on the hill, and Wooyoung was right there, surely if Seonghwa had met him the scrappiest member of Ateez likely had as well, he could have killed him then.

"Be careful Seonghwa, that almost sounded like a joke, you wouldn't want to make me start liking you now" But you know that's not possible even without knowing their past. You grimace, if your arm were free, you'd smack him like you did when you were kids.

"Trust me that wasn't my intention" Your husband shoots back, deadpan. You want to trust that Seonghwa knows that he's doing as he speaks. Your brother's tone is chipper, but you see the click of his jaw as he grits his teeth. Kai grins, but with his teeth still clenched he looks like he's snarling.

"Still holding that old grudge i see," Kai sneers into the phone, making it obvious he does as well. You hear Seonghwa sigh dismissively over the phone.

"You are wasting both of our time Kai, give your demands. Unless you didn't think that far ahead." Seonghwa drawls the words, he almost sounds bored. You hope that this is some kind of play because Kai's face lights with fury. You are starting to see the buttons Seonghwa is pushing, he's making the man across from you look stupid. You think that much is intentional, but he can't see Kai's face or the way it screws up in a fit of rage for a second and holds there. The seconds tick on and Kai doesn't move. With a jolt your brother slams a palm onto the metal table, sending a shock through you at the sound. Everyone in the room flinches, but Kai carries on.

"You've been making some especially shady move lately on behalf of Ateez isn't that right Seonghwa?" He asks, speaking slower, trying to force his causal tone into his voice, when something much darker bubbles beneath the surface. He doesn't wait for an answer,

"No of course not right? You and the rest of Ateez would never go breaking the rules right? Getting others involved, those not 'in the business'?" He asks the questions obviously knowing the answer so Seonghwa doesn't speak, electing to let Kai reveal how much he knows before talking.

"Those dirty politicians, the makers of the law, accepting bribes from Ateez, the biggest crime syndicate in the country. It's gonna be a headline, that's for sure, if I decide to realize it of course, but for right now while I have something you want," He trails off, looking over at you with a sinister grin, the same one you remember twisted into something evil. "I think I can ask for just about anything and you, between Ateez and the most powerful politicians in the country in your back pocket, have the means to make that happen. Am I right Seonghwa?" Kai concludes, a satisfied expression painting his face.

"What do you want." When Seonghwa speaks the words its not a question, it's a demand. This is the first time you catch a drop of emotion in his voice, he's severe and serious.

"Well, you se Seongwha, after I take back my territory, I want to bring a bit of variety to this business. Because right now, anyone trying to smuggle into the city has to go through one of your shipyards since you boys over at Ateez started paying off the foremen. But us over here? we are a classy bunch, and I think a few legal import licenses issued to my father's old legal front operation would certainly help with the business. And if a few pits of paraphernalia got mixed in? Well, accidents happen."

You can tell Kai is all too pleased with the plan he’s created. In fact, he seems almost eager to show it off to Seonghwa, like he’s trying to prove something.

"Of course, after I'm gonna come after the rest of Ateez. Don't worry I didn't forget about you." He concludes with a sneer. Its silent over the phone. When Seonghwa does speak it's not what you expected.

"Is that all? That's the best idea you could come up with?" He’s deadpan, void of and of his usual melody. If Kai had said it would have been a joke but from him, it sounds like he's scolding your brother.

"Do you want me to kill her?" Kai asks leaning over the phone and gritting his teeth.

"you're not going to kill her while you still need me for something, So I thought your demands would at least be a little more interesting." You want to scream at Seonghwa to shut up because the vein in Kai's forehead looks like its about to pop.

"Seonghwa, buddy, shut up and listen. You have 24 hours to get me those licenses while i leave with the rest of my men still working with you just because you knocked up my sister." Kai seethes over the phone, but hands white knuckling the steel table. He keeps talking, but you can't hear him. Your ears are ringing. 'Knocked up' you're pregnant. Well, how about that, on the list of things you expected to hear today that was not even on it.

Your mind flashes with images of a gurney, the IV bag, and the woman. She knew she did tests to keep you alive, and she found this.

Distantly you hear the sound of the call ending. And some kind of commotion going on across from you. It sounds like Kai is angry about something and is taking it out on the entire room. Who cares, your fucking pregnant.

"Get her back to that fucking room!" Kai screeches, pointing a finger at you then viciously out the door. He's standing now, you don't know when that happened, distantly you wonder if one of the loud sounds you heard was him throwing his chain against the wall again. His particular displays of anger are starting to lose their terror, and you can see why everyone has been so calm in the face of these meltdowns. He's like a spoiled child, and it's irritating rather than intimidating.

You let yourself be carried back to the closet, at this point only wishing to get some more sleep, the feelings and sensations of being awake are too much for you right now. Your thoughts swim with everything wrong in your world right now and the list seems endless. You hope for unconsciousness until you are traded back to your husband or killed. 'They're not going to kill me, yet' you think dully, thinking back to the words you whispered to yourself moments before you sealed your fate. You want to laugh; you didn't know how true those words would become.

-

It's been hours at least. You've been asleep, then awake, then asleep again, and now your eyes creep open for the second time. Despite having slept twice you still don't know the passage of time, it been impossible to tell from the pitch-black room and your restless sleep. Though your eyes have long since adjusted to low light. If they didn't give you real food soon, you're going to die of that before whatever horror Kai comes up with.

Maybe that means it hasn’t yet been 24 hours since the phone call. Kai had said something about 24 hours, some kind of threat, you hadn't cared to hear the rest of it. You'd find out soon enough. If it hasn't passed yet it must be nearing the deadline.

It felt like minutes later, but you had no way of knowing. When the door finally creaked open and Kai slinked into the room, his face was screwed up in a vile kind of concentration. You had seen his eyes countless times yet never like this, with something so dark in his eyes. He doesn't look happy, there's distaste in his features that you can see. You don't know what he is planning to do, so when he moves across the small space, encroaching in the small personal space you have you instinctively push back and away. You can't do much more than glare at him with all the hate in your heart and try to maintain your composure. Distantly you hear a loud crash echo through whatever building you're in, but Kai doesn't seem to notice.

Kai looms over you, bending at the wait. You wonder how he can even see you in the pitch-black room because he hasn't had time to adjust to the low light like you. But still, he leers over you, as if considering you, almost debating. You wonder if he even realizes that you can read his expression clearly despite the darkness.

"Hey Sunshine," Kai almost whispers into the darkness. The nickname aches. It sounds just like him, it feels like mourning your dead brother all over again even though he stands before you. You want to claw him, rip for nails down his face. But that wouldn't be enough to stop whatever it is he's planning. You don't respond. You don't even know if you could speak now. You've barely used for voice these past hours and you're sure it would only break.

"Silent treatment? You haven't done that since you were a kid." Kai says with a malicious smile, trying to get a reaction from you. You remain unresponsive. Kai lets out a breathy laugh, straightening up.

"Thats fine, stay silent, for as long as you can anyway. I have a feeling that once I'm done here your screaming will be heard down the hall."

He's crossing his arms, pleased with his retort and himself. It's hard to feel threatened when you've been in constant danger for months, but you have a feeling you should be more scared than you are. But you just can't manage that emotion, or any really. You just hope that whatever torture Kai has in store for you will be over quickly, so you can escape back into unconsciousness away from the nightmare you find yourself in. The distant noises seem to be growing louder as they roll down the hall.

Kai reaches behind him, into the waistband of his pants. From there he pulls something large and metal. It takes you a moment to place it, but you realize its bolt cutters, and the blade is sharp. He lifts them up, as if to show them off to you, turning them in his hands. Your stomach twists at the sight and you can't help but pull yourself deeper into the corner. You felt a bit of bile rising from your empty stomach at all the ways the tool can be used to hurt you even more.

"I had hoped Seonghwa would have just complied with my demands before it came to this." He says with a sigh, turning the cutters in his hand.

"I'm not going to enjoy this, and I think your husband knows that. He's always been infuriatingly perceptive; I don't know how you stand it." Kai's voice shakes slightly at the last words. "But if he thought that would be enough to save your fingers, he was wrong, maybe he isn't as perceptive as I thought."

You feel yourself start to shake. Your hands instinctively wring themselves in your lap. Suddenly the bolt cutters seemed much larger, and the blade sharper. The image of the blades cutting through your skin and bone made your skin crawl, and if your stomach had any contents to empty, you would have vomited.

"Or maybe he cares about you less than I thought."

His words drift through your ears. But at the same time, you hear distant noises but not so distant anymore. You heard a constant stream of bangs and voices, for now still far, but close enough to hear them shouting. Your head swivels to the door, of course, it blocks whatever is going on from you view. You imagine Kai's men preparing another attack on Ateez cities, the bangs being a cart of supplies rolling up and down the uneven floor and the voices barking orders. But no, it's too loud to be that.

Kai's arm shoots out, grabbing you by the neck. Instantly your air is gone, and you choke on the breath in your throat. He pulls you up slightly by your neck, forcing you to look at him. Your hands fly to his wrist, pulling and struggling against his hands but they do not budge.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I not entertaining enough for you?" He growls, his eyes alight with sick anger. It's like he can't hear the growing commotion outside the door. He holds you there, depriving you of oxygen with every passing second, his grip hard enough to leave indents on your neck. He waits as if waiting for a response, but you have no air to speak. Your eyes start to water, and your vision begins to blur when he finally releases you. You fall back into your corner and gasp for air.

"I'm done being nice, let’s get this shit over with."

Kai's and shoots out again, this time taking your wrist. He pulls your body from the corner and without your hand to balance yourself you fall in a heap on the floor. You are disoriented and terrified, when your eyes focus Kai is brandishing the bolt cutters, bringing them to your hand. You can't help it now; you start to scream. Your vocal cords feel like they're ripping to shreds as you scream, but you can't stop. You screw your eyes shut, as if being unable to see the cutters will stop them from cutting through your skin.

While you scream, you wait, wait for the unimaginable pain. But then again, you expected it to come by now, where is it? Your eyes crack open, but they are forced closed again by blinding light. Light? How?

Again, you crack your eyes, this time anticipating the light, but after hours in complete darkness, they take a long time to adjust. You feel the grip on your wrist drop. Automatically your body slumps to the floor on your back in relief, but that feeling is only multiplied by thousands a moment later.

"Someone get Seonghwa! I found her and the brother!"

It's at that moment that you can finally see again. And before you stands none other than Wooyoung. Silhouetted against the light from the hallway, a gun raised to Kai's temple. Kai is frozen in what can only be shock. Obviously, he had not predicted this outcome. To think that the noises you heard were the sounds of Ateez storming whatever facility you were kept, faintly your mind wondered how they even found the place.

But your mind can't hold the thought. As soon as your body and mind fully come to terms with the fact you've been saved you no longer want to think, instead you try and catch your breath. Your eyes can't help but stay fixed on Wooyoung at the door, unwilling to look at Kai again. He looks stern, his expression betraying nothing but malice, and maybe disgust. But his eyes are not as fixed on Kai as his gun.

Every few moments his gaze falls to you on the floor. You see him scan your body for injury, assessing your physical condition. What that condition is, even you don't know. You know your body must be battered and bruised, but you've been in pain for so long. You've gone numb to, based on Wooyoung's concerned glances, more bruises than you can count after being dragged and thrown about and beaten while here.

What is taking Seonghwa so long?

As if summoned by your thoughts, with the door open you can hear the sound of feet pounding down the hall at a rapid pace, you know it can only be him. You brace yourself to see him again, and your face twists in both guilt and anger when you remember the last words you said to one another. But as soon as he appears in the doorway all those thoughts leave you.

He's been shot. You can tell from the crimson leaking through his pressed white shirt. With horror, you realize that the bullet must have only just missed his heart, as the blood flows from right above where it sits. You wonder which of the bangs you heard in the commotion caused this. But he stands upright and alert as if there wasn't a gaping wound in his chest.

You expect to feel enraged, even resentful to him. After all, he had promised. He promised that this would never happen, and he had taken away your only chance to defend yourself that night. But you knew you weren't blameless in this either. You both had made so many mistakes that led you here. His eyes were locked onto yours from the moment he appeared, to your surprise he wore his expression proudly instead of hiding it. He looked despondent and slightly ashamed, but you see something brighter there too, and you feel it as well. Relief.

As soon as Seonghwa appears, Wooyoung lifts his leg to kick Kai in the chest. The man collapses the rest of the way to the floor, and you can hear the thud when he hits the concrete. Wooyoung then reaches out grabs the back of Kai's collar and drags him from the room. For the first time, Kai makes a sound, and it's a pitiful wheeze.

And then it's just you and your husband.

You want to move and stand on your own feet, but you can't. And you don't need to. Seonghwa sinks to his knees on the floor next to you, you feel his hand come up to softly cup your face and your eyes stream with tears at the touch.

"I.... I-i" Seonghwa tries to start, but he seems to be at a loss for words. Even with tears filling your eyes you exhale a laugh.

"Yeah, I know." You respond, stopping his attempts to force words. Because you do. You remember the anger you expected to come that never did, and you imagine Seonghwa had expectations of his own on what he was going to say when he found you. But if there is anything you've learned these past few years, it's that your expectations are often wrong.

Seonghwa carefully as if you were made of glass, helps you to a sitting position. You see him from the corner of your eye, flinching at every sharp intake of breath when your movements hurt your broken body. Seonghwa leans your weight against his own, allowing your body to rest against his side while you sit. You try to protest.

"Seonghwa, no, you've been shot" You try to reason, but it falls on deaf ears. He lets out a bitter laugh. His face, which could be so soft and yet so sharp has never looked more vulnerable, and his dark hair falls in front of his eyes.

"Darling, while I appreciate the concern, it’s laughable given the state your in."

You roll your eyes a bit, but you can't help but smile, hearing his voice was as soothing to your pain as any medicine.

"We'll call it even."

-

When You two stand and make your way into the hall there are already Ateez men and police officers stationed on either end of a ruined empty hallway. It stuns you to see how quickly the battle was won, but from the sound of it, it was a complete surprise. Seonghwa wrapped an arm over your shoulder and pulled you close, almost using you as a crutch, not that you mind. He leads you down the hall and when you turn it becomes clear how it was done. He leads you through a set of faded blue double doors that open out onto a steel walkway overlooking an abandoned factory floor. The old, ruined machines piled to the side to make way for the rest of the scene.

The large garage doors at the far end of the large brick space and outside you can see what looks to be hundreds of police, SWAT officers, and surely some of Ateez's own men surrounding the building. In the center of the concrete floor, there are about 50 of the deserters bound and gagged, seemingly waiting for arrest. They are lined up close to the garage doors.

Closer to you, there are sheets covering large swaths of the dirty floor. Your stomach lurches, knowing what is underneath. Seonghwa leads you both down the short metal steps to the floor, through a row of sheets to the very center of the massive room. Here the rest of Ateez stands, all surrounding Kai who is bound and gagged the same as his men already sporting black eyes On the ground next to him is Joongki's corpse, with no sheet to cover him. You deduce the deal Seonghwa made with the politicians, they work together to take down the thorn in Seonghwa’s side. The police take credit for arresting 50 wanted criminals in one fell swoop and Ateez gets Kai, to do with as they please.

Seonghwa releases your shoulder with a firm squeeze and an even firmer look. 'Stay put' his eyes say you know he is telling you to stay here next to Yunho. But, you have no intention of stopping him. Seonghwa turns and Hongjoong, who is standing between Kai and the corpse, he holds out a handgun by the barrel for Seonghwa to take. Seonghwa crosses the space in two long steps and takes the gun from his boss's grip. He looks down at the man looking up at him with pleading eyes. Seonghwa scoffs, raising the weapon in the air before bringing the butt down across Kai's face. Kai gasps in pain and then chokes. He opens his mouth perhaps to beg, but instead, he makes a croaking noise.

"Your mistake Kai is simple; it was thinking you could beat us in this game. You thought that you were a threat when you were nothing more than a nuisance." Seonghwa spits the words with ice cold furry, he is unforgiving and unrelenting as he leans over the battered man.

"You should have known from the first time you heard I'd made deals with politicians that you had lost. That it was only a matter of time before we had the resources to storm this place, as if we hadn't already figured out where you were hiding. The only thing stopping us was a lack of manpower because of you stirring up rebellion. I don't like those people, in their ivory fucking castles thinking that because they make the law, they're above it. But I've always been more than willing to put my morals aside." Seonghwa was hunched over Kai despite the bullet wound still draining blood.

"Your father knew it too. He tried to show you were too arrogant, and flippant, that unless you learned consequences you blunder yourself into an early grave,"

"I am going to deliver you to him," Seonghwa speaks the words with finality. With his dark hair falling loosely around his face and his grim expression, almost sober, you're sure that from Kai's glossy eyes, he looks like the grim reaper come to call. You don't feel sad for him, you buried your brother 3 years ago.

You're not happy to watch him die, but still, you do. You watch as Seonghwa straightens up and lifts his arm, aiming the gun point blank. You know that even this is a small kindness to the man, killing him now, instead of making him pay more thoroughly, you suppose that's probably for your sake not his.

When the shot rings you don't feel any better, but you certainly can't say you feel any worse.

-

"So, you knew him the whole time."

Your words rang in the vast space of the VIP room at the hospital. Rooms like these are saved for presidents, CEOs, and you. The luxury of the room was making it hard to feel comfortable, your IV bag stood out against the warm wood of the walls. The space would be big enough to host a small party, as it contained a fully carpeted seating area with plush couches, decorative plants, idyllic paintings, and even a glass chandelier. It should feel comforting to be back in a world of care a splendor, make you feel like the last two days had been some sick freak nightmare. But didn't, the only thing offering you the slightest bit of comfort was Seonghwa's warm hand in yours

"Yes," He replied calmly. Not the same empty calm as he was over the phone, but something kinder, it was the voice he used at home.

To his credit, Seonghwa seems to have lost all the suspicion and anger he felt towards you the last time you were face to face, just as you have. But you can’t help but wonder, just how many steps ahead he had been, not just to Kai, but to you as well.

“How long did you know he was alive?”

“Not long,” Seonghwa’s voice sounds slightly choked, he’s staring at you, waiting for you to unleash your anger on him. You can almost see your fight playing over and over again in his glassy eyes. You sigh, wishing Seonghwa would stop looking so God damn guilty. You want to reach your hand to his face, and ease some of the worry, but his grip on your palm is tight, unwilling to let you go.

“If I had known-“He starts, and you can already hear the impending apology on his lips, the resignation and desperation dripped into his words. You cut him off,

“I could have told you, but I didn’t.” You don’t say this out of guilt, and Seonghwa already knew that fact anyway. But you said it to remind him that you are just as much to blame. Seonghwa swallows his words. His brow furrows, and you can tell he feels responsible for the pain you’re feeling, and you doubt no matter how much you try and convince him otherwise his opinion won’t change.

"Why not tell me? That you knew him" You carry on, asking the question that you’ve been dying to know since this all began.

"I was going to talk to you about him initially, but it didn't take me long to realize you were unaware of what he was. I did not want to burden you with the knowledge of the kind of man your brother was, especially so soon after his death. So, I kept it to myself." Seonghwa replied without hesitation as if to prove how honest he intended to be.

You couldn't even really fault him for that. How could Seonghwa have known he would have needed to break my already broken heart back then in order to prevent this trauma in the now? He couldn't have, it's as simple as that. But it's been 3 years since then.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" You don't let any hint of accusation seep in, though his answer to this question could hurt you. But you're not concerned, because you didn't doubt what he would say.

"Yes, I did,"

You could tell Seonghwa felt guilty, you could see it in the subtle twitch of his lips down as he said the word, trying to keep a frown from his face. You could see it in his eyes waiting for your anger, yet continuously being surprised when he did not see it.

You sigh at him, leaning back onto the softest hospital cushions you've ever felt that were propped up against the inclined bed. You took the time to really look at him. He too looked older than the last time you saw him, his hair is longer too, it just brushes past his browbone, and you know soon it will be long enough to brush from his eyes. And his eyes, they were usually so bright and alive, now they had deep dark circles. He looked defeated, despite having won.

"I'm not angry with you Seonghwa," You say serenely, flipping your held hands to run your thumb over his bruised knuckles. Seonghwa huffs, shaking his head and breaking your gaze.

"You should be." He grits through his teeth.

"Are you angry with me?"

At that Seonghwa's head shot up in surprise, he looked so genuinely confused for a moment.

"No-no?!" He replies so quickly, almost urgently, that he stutters on the word. He was still so confused it came out as a question. You laugh at his face and at the stutter, it's not often you can fluster Seonghwa, and you appreciate the chance while you have it. Seonghwa's confusion morphs into general bewilderment as if wondering what's gotten into you. You shake your head and even your breath with a smile.

"Seonghwa, the truth is you have every right to be as mad at me as I do for you. In fact, we made many of the same mistakes, I hid Kai from you as well, and I let myself lose trust in you too." Seonghwa flinches at that last line, stewing in his memory of the words he had thrown at you. But you can't help but think accusing you of cheating after finding you drunk with another man, is not the farthest jump anyone could have made even if it had been so hurtful at the time.

"So, if you're not mad and me then I'm not mad at you." You’re sincere in your words, and even Seonghwa must relent to them after another moment of hesitation. But he can't force you to be angry with him. You both were far too spent and have had far too many conflicting emotions over the past hours. Love is comforting, and healing, you both needed these desperately.

You lean down to where he sits by your side and kiss him. It's a soft and gentle dance of lips, not driven by need or desire, just great affection, and love. You had taken a chance on this man 3 years ago, a leap of faith into his arms that led you here. It hadn't been a pleasant road necessarily, but you couldn't regret it since it led you here. Safe again, finally, with your husband who you love and loves you in return. You break the kiss as slowly as you start it, laying a hand on your stomach.

"So, what are we going to do about this?"

-

Very long authors note if you’re curious

Aha! Here it is, my magnum opus. I’ve arisen from the ashes on inactivity for this last parting gift.

I know I previously called LADEVOTEE (and I did love writing that) but let’s me real here, this series is probably the most popular and lasting thing I’ve posted on here I have received a lot of support and encouragement not only this series, but on my posted works as a whole which continues to surprise me.

Writing fan fiction believe it or not was alway been more about writing and storytelling than it ever was about kpop and I only wrote smut cuz it’s more engaging, I’m Ngl I’m really not involved in the kpop fandom anymore (though I still saw Ateez in concert last year)

I’ll be honest I never plan of being fully active on here again, it’s been years and I got different shit going on but hey never say never, I’ll probably still post from time to time.

P.s i am curious to know if anyone guessed the plot twist? Cuz like I was trying to drop hints but also I really wanted it to be a surprise

[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.

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[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Doting husband Bruce is everything... him being a little shit?

"Bruce?"

"Yes?" he said, looking up from his papers. Things spread all over his desk in the study.

"Where's my car?"

"Parked in your spot with the keys in-"

"That's not my car, Brucie I didn't-"

"No," he said, "I did. You needed a new car. Yours was uh- well. Not exactly safe."

"My car was fine- I don't-"

"It's safer now," he said, getting up from his desk and crossing the floor to kiss you. "I've got everything hooked to security systems. The glass and the side panels are both bulletproof... Humor me. If something happens it'll buy me some time to get there."

"You're so paranoid, Brucie-"

"Not paranoid," he said smiling a little and kissing your nose. "You're a troublemaker. And now that we're legally married, I can do more about it."

"You don't need to do-"

"Yes I do," he said, kissing your nose again. "A new car and paying off the rest of your loans-"

"Bruce you didn't."

"I did," he admitted, smiling a little.

"Bruce."

"I knew you wouldn't ask me to," he said simply. Not at all sorry. His girl. His wife. He wasn't going to have you paying loans until you were 80. Not when you worked so hard- did so much for free.

"People already think-"

"Well I know the truth," he said shrugging. "You didn't marry me for money. You've never asked me to do this- And I know you hate it when I do."

"Then why did you?"

"Because, Sweetheart. 'You deserve to be taken care of. Properly."

"You're impossible."

"And you are going to be spoiled even if it kills me," he teased, eyes crinkling at the corners.

[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.”

[sidekick-hero]

caught in the careless arms of lust again

metaldeputy | explicit | 5.6k | tags: crossover Fargo/Stranger Things, No Upside Down, Modern AU, pwp | AO3

Dickinson, North Dakota was as much a shithole in Eddie's eyes as Hawkins, Indiana. The only real difference, as far as he can tell, is the cold, which is more biting than even the worst winter he ever experienced back home, and his balls are trying as hard as they can to crawl back into his body.

It's not like he wants to be here. There was no way in hell he was going to spend more time than it took to take a piss and pump some gas into his van in a state that was mostly God-fearing northern rednecks and a whole lot of nothing.

But of course, nothing ever goes according to plan in Eddie Munson's life, and his van broke down just as he was passing through Dickinson on Interstate 94. He'd seen the sign and giggled like a high school kid at the silly name, momentarily distracted and not looking at the road. That's why he didn't notice the damn deer until it was too late, and like the idiot he was, he swerved to avoid it, skidded on the slick icy road, and ended up in the ditch.

Luckily he wasn't going that fast, so after a few feet the car came to a stop in the snow, the engine dead and refusing to start no matter what he tried.

And now his van is in the hands of a guy named Ray at Ray's Auto Electric, while Eddie has to rent a room in a dubious looking hotel called the Badland Inn. It’s fifty bucks a night, which he certainly doesn’t have, but beggars can’t be choosers, and it’s too damn cold to even consider sleeping outside. Ray, who had taken one look at Eddie's long hair and tattoos before seeming to decide he wanted Eddie gone almost as much as Eddie wanted to be gone, said it would be at least three days, maybe more, depending on how fast he could get the part he needed to get his van running again.

And that's why Eddie is sitting in some dive bar, drinking a cheap watered-down beer, wallowing in self-pity, when Deputy Gator Tillman walks into his life.

At first he doesn't even turn his head to look at the man who just sat down next to him, just nods politely while staring into the smudged glass in his hands. It's only when the guy next to him orders a Bud Light, of all things, that Eddie can't help but snort. From what he's seen so far, the men here are manly men, drinking only the bitterest beer and the strongest whiskey while thumping their chests like apes.

"Something funny, shitbird?" The guy snarls at him.

And here we go again, Eddie thinks, already tired of what's sure to come.

"Listen, man," Eddie starts as he turns around to face whoever's ego he just bruised, only to be stopped by the sight in front of him.

The guy's hot, is the first thing that strikes him, square jaw, full lips, droopy eyes, and a slanted nose. His chestnut hair is slicked back and shaved with racetrack lines, as much a part of his machismo as the combat pants and bulletproof vest he's wearing. Too bad his face is just too pretty for any of it to work.

He must have been staring, because the hazel eyes looking back at him narrow even more, his whole face turning into a sneer that's still far more attractive than it has any right to be.

"What are you staring at, asshole?"

A ghost from my past, Eddie thinks. Because he once knew a boy who looked just like the guy before him, a boy who tried so hard to be the epitome of everything a wealthy white businessman's son in Bumfuck Indiana could want. He played all kinds of sports, was captain of the basketball and swim teams, had a new pretty girl on his arm every week, and sneered down at everyone below him as he looked on from his perch at the top of the high school food chain.

King Steve, a man who had been so goddamn pretty that Eddie could still remember all the times he had jerked off to fantasies of those lips and hands, and that juicy ass in Harrington's tiny gym shorts.

The man before him looked different, of course, but much of him was the same. Maybe that was the reason why Eddie didn't stop his mouth from running off on him.

"You. It's a nice view, that's for sure."

Even as he braces himself for a punch, Eddie can't tear his eyes away from the hauntingly familiar face in front of him as he sees the words land. They're mostly harmless. Not even a pretty boy or a sweetheart thrown in there. At least not yet.

The man's eyes widen, just a fraction, just enough for Eddie to notice. Just as Eddie notices the color rising up his neck and the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Gotcha, big boy.

"What did you just say to me?" The guy demands, taking a step forward, invading Eddie's personal space, bringing with him the smell of cologne and old sweat, tinged with something fruity Eddie can't quite put his finger on.

There’s enough of a height difference between them that Eddie can look up at him through his lashes from his seat. He curls his lips into a smile that has just enough edge to draw the guy’s eyes to it and keep them there.

"Paid you a compliment. Don't tell me a handsome guy like you doesn't get those all the time, huh?"

The brazenness makes the other man stumble, Eddie can tell by the way his mouth opens and closes without a sound coming out of it. He catches himself soon enough and leans back, pulling himself up to his full height and bringing his hands to his hips, drawing Eddie's eyes to where the tips of his fingers graze the gun strapped to his thigh.

Okay, this is how they're going to play this, apparently.

"Listen, you fucking pansy, I ain't got no idea why you think you can just come in here and talk to a man of the law like that, but I'm gonna show you where you and your kind can stick your disgusting tendencies."

This makes Eddie smile even wider. His mantra has always been 'fuck the law', so that's exactly what he's going to do. And he's pretty sure this particular lawman wouldn't mind. Just as Eddie is sure now that Harrington wouldn't have been opposed to Eddie's tendencies, but back then Eddie hadn't been the kind of guy to take such a risk. No experience, just a gut feeling, and that wasn't enough to risk getting his nose broken. Or worse.

Now, with more than a decade of hookups with supposedly straight guys under his belt, he knew the signs. And the guy right in front of him? A big fucking neon sign.

"I dunno, Sheriff. Maybe you’d rather I show you where I could stick my tendencies instead. I'm sure you can take it like a man, big boy."

Eddie makes sure to lean in again as he says this, letting his eyes roam over the guy's body in a blatant invitation that he really hopes will be taken. It's not like he has any trouble picking up guys, even in the backwoods he's been traveling through lately, though he does have to be a little more careful. But he wants this one, badly. He's sure he'll look like sin on his knees for Eddie, eyes as round and wet as his mouth wrapped around his dick, begging for anything Eddie is willing to give him.

The guy in front of him doesn't seem to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he doesn't have to be, Eddie thinks. Not with that face. It takes him more than a few moments to work through Eddie's words, and the first thing he responds to is not what Eddie would think it would be.

"That's my dad." At Eddie's confused look, he adds, "Sheriff. My dad is Sheriff Roy Tillman. I'm his right-hand man, Deputy Sheriff Gator Tillman." He says, standing even straighter, voice dripping with pomposity.

"I figured you'd be a mouthful, Deputy Sheriff Gator Tillman."

Eddie gives him a wolfish grin and licks his lips, eyes focused on what he can make out of the bulge in the deputy's pants, which are frankly a little too loose. Guys like him should wear tight jeans or those gray sweatpants that show off the goods a lot better than fucking combat pants.

"The fuck you talkin' about, numbnuts?"

Yeah, not the sharpest tool in the shed. But maybe this is his chance to defuse the situation, turn it into a joke, and get the hell out before he finds himself behind bars or with his face bashed in. The Eddie of a few years ago would have run, just like he had run when Harrington had him pinned down at Skull Rock after Eddie had taken his flirting a little too far during a weed sale. He'd had the same look in his eyes that he sees on the Deputy's face now.

Hunger masked as anger.

So instead of running, Eddie decides to show his hand. Make his offer clear and see if the Deputy takes him up on it. And if not, he will hole up in the inn and hope that Ray gets his parts as soon as possible.

"I'm talking about your cock, Deputy." Eddie mutters.

He rises and positions himself to cover his hand as it reaches out to squeeze the bulge, feeling it swell under his touch. Big Boy, indeed. He takes a stumbling step forward to have an excuse to press himself against Deputy Tillman's hard body and leans in to whisper in his ear.

"Too bad we don't get to play with it. I'm sure you'd be so good." Eddie clicks his tongue against his teeth with a soft tzk. "But what can you do, right? Have a good evening, Deputy Sheriff Gator Tillman."

Counting on dear Deputy Tillman needing another moment to process what Eddie just said, he steps away from the other man and saunters out, heading toward the inn.

He hasn't even made it out of the parking lot before he hears the sound of heavy footsteps following him outside.

Bingo.

He keeps walking and doesn't turn around, but there's a pleased smile on his face. If the Deputy was going to bash his head in, Eddie hopes he would have done it by now. The footsteps behind him are faster than the saunter Eddie was taking, but they don’t charge at him, just follow a few steps behind.

Eddie makes sure to sway his hips as he walks, feeling the other man's eyes on him the whole way. He can't be sure, but he thinks they're fixed on his ass, and he's glad he put on his skinny jeans that hug his thighs and ass just right. Not that it will see much action tonight. Eddie knows what Deputy Tillman needs, and soon he’ll know it too when he’s on his knees and begging for it.

For now, Eddie lets him think that it's his tight ass that’ll be getting hit tonight.

The walk to the inn is silent and the cold air around them feels heavy, charged. Anticipation crackles under his skin like a summer storm brewing in the sky and he can't remember the last time he felt so alive.

After passing through the entrance, he waits at the bottom of the stairs until he hears the front door close again, and only then does he begin his ascent to his room on the fourth floor, climbing the stairs with the steady sound of steps creaking under two sets of feet.

When he finally reaches the door to his room, his chest is heaving from more than just the physical exertion. Something about the whole night feels so goddamn surreal, and he still half expects to wake up in a ditch after being beaten half to death for flirting with a fucking cop in a part of the country where that could very well get him arrested. Or worse. So much worse.

And yet here he is, inviting danger into his room, into his bed, into his arms.

Something about Deputy Tillman makes him forget everything he's learned about staying out of trouble.

In fact, he's walking right into it, with a devilish smile and a raging hard-on.

Eddie hears the heavy steps behind him coming to a halt as well and he can feel the presence of another body close to his. For just a second, he contemplates calling it off, taking the safe route, just like he promised his uncle to do. But then he remembers the hot, thick girth under his hand and the way Tillman reminds him of a ghost from the past that has come back to haunt him and thinks fuck the safe route.

Slipping the key into the lock and turning it to the right, he opens the door and walks into his room, turning on the light and waiting for trouble to follow him inside.

They still haven't said anything, not since Eddie so boldly proposed the Deputy Sheriff, but he thinks they both know why they're here.

"I take it you're here to play a little, Deputy?" He doesn't even turn around when he asks this, the question being mostly rhetorical anyway. Just him playing with his food, making Tillman admit why he followed Eddie here.

More silence answers him.

"Cat got your tongue? Don't tell me you're getting shy now." Eddie coaxes, finally turning to look at the young man he never expected to meet tonight. He's met with a defiant look on that awfully pretty face, eyebrows drawn together and lips almost pouting at him. Adorable, really.

"Fuck you," the Deputy spits, clearly at a loss for words, inferior in their duel of wits.

Eddie taps his chin mockingly, as if he has to think about it. "Nah," he finally concludes, "I think I'd rather fuck you."

His words don't immediately hit the Deputy, an almost cute look of confusion on his face before his eyes widen, first in shock, then in anger. Too bad the admittedly impressive bulge in his pants gives away just how much Tillman is not against the idea.

"But...you said...in the bar..." he stutters, more indignation in his words than in his voice. Oh, he's precious, Eddie thinks, just the kind of guy he loves to corrupt. He knows he lured the Deputy in with the vague promise of a blow job, and knowing what he packs in those hideous combat pants, Eddie thinks he might still do it. After all, he thinks the man will be much more pliable after a nice orgasm. He doesn't want to hurt his prey, he just wants to play with it, and if his prey enjoys it, that's all the better in Eddie's book.

Taking a step toward the other man, Eddie catches his eyes and raises an eyebrow. "Look, if you can't use your words, Deputy, then I can't use my mouth or my hands on you. Simple as that. Speak up or get out."

Delighted, Eddie notices Tillman's spine straighten at his tone.

Bingo.

It's clear the Deputy needs a firm hand.

With his chin sticking out, Tillman tries again, still stumbling over his words here and there, but doing a much better job than before. "You said I was a mouthful. That my," he pauses before venturing on, "that my cock was a mouthful and that you wanted to play with it."

"I did, didn't I?" Eddie wonders aloud, his eyes deliberately dropping to where the Deputy is still hard in his pants and licking his lips. "And you've been a good boy so far, haven't you, Deputy?"

Tillman nods eagerly, making Eddie grin. He just loves his men easy.

"Good boys get a reward, but I'm not sure you deserve my mouth on you just yet, Deputy. I think you need to show me how good you really can be." Another step forward brings Eddie close enough to the other man to see how his pupils have dilated, swallowing up the beautiful hazel of his eyes. He puts a hand on Tillman's shoulder, fingers spread wide so that his thumb presses into the hollow of his throat, and gently pushes him down to his knees without any real force.

The Deputy sinks to his knees in a fluid and graceful arc that sends the blood rushing to his cock so fast he feels dizzy for a second.

Fuck, who would have thought that a random cop he picked up in a bar in the middle of nowhere North Dakota would turn out to be the sweetest of temptations?

Certainly not Eddie.

"Gorgeous," he praises the man on his knees in front of him, because he is. He looks up at Eddie with wide eyes, dazed, as if he doesn't even know what he's doing here, but likes it anyway. Thumbing his full lower lip until it opens for him, Eddie can't help but want to see how far the man will let him go. When the Deputy sucks Eddie's thumb into his mouth without a second thought, Eddie doesn't even try to stop the moan that falls from his lips. It's obvious that the man kneeling before him is starved for praise, so giving it to him will only make him more eager.

He pulls his thumb out of Tillman's mouth, already missing the warmth, and unbuttons his jeans. He pushes them down just enough to free his cock, the cool air of the room making him shiver. "Now, let's see what you can do, Deputy," he murmurs, anticipation coiling in his belly.

Deputy Tillman doesn't answer with words, but with action, leaning in and enveloping Eddie's hard length in the wet heat of his mouth. It's a clumsy start, but Eddie is more than willing to show him the ropes. If he's honest, it only fuels the flame of lust burning brightly in his stomach to know that it's him the Deputy is on his knees for, sucking his cock when it's clearly something he wouldn't normally do.

It's only fair that Eddie teach him how to be a good boy for him.

Eddie guides the Deputy's movements with a hand tangled in his hair, enjoying the feeling of complete control. He expects Tillman to bitch at him for ruining his hair, but the only reaction he gets when he tangles it between his fingers and pulls is a broken moan. The night might've started with a broken-down van and ended up in a dive bar, but now, it's shaping into something Eddie never could've anticipated.

Tillman may have been clumsy at first, but with Eddie's guiding hand slowing his movements, the Deputy seems to get used to the feel of Eddie's girth in his mouth, growing more confident with every lick of his tongue and bob of his head.

Eddie continues to murmur encouragements into the quiet room, each one swallowed hungrily by the man on his knees before him. As the night stretches on, he finds himself lost in the pleasure, the cold North Dakota winter forgotten in the warmth of Deputy Tillman's mouth.

"God, you're good at this," he praises, voice hoarse and strained. The Deputy looks up at him then, surprise in his eyes, but Eddie recognizes a flicker of something else there, too. Pride. Satisfaction. It makes him smirk.

He allows himself to sink further into the sensation, guiding the Deputy's movements with a firm hand in his hair. When he hits that sweet spot at the back of his throat, Eddie can't help the groan that escapes his lips.

"That's it, Deputy," he encourages, "Just like that."

As Tillman's moans vibrate around him, Eddie can feel the tension building in the pit of his stomach, an all too familiar pressure that signals his impending release. He tries to hold back, to prolong the pleasure, but it's a losing battle. With one last thrust into the warm cavern of the Deputy's mouth, he succumbs to the pleasure. His hips buck and he spurts down the Deputy's throat, a guttural moan tearing from his lips.

Tillman swallows around him, his throat working around Eddie's length, milking him for all he's worth. When he's spent, Eddie pulls back, sliding out of the warmth of the Deputy's mouth with a sigh.

"Well," he pants, "I think that's enough for tonight, Deputy." Leaning back against the wall to catch his breath, he pulls up his pants and buttons them, ignoring the Deputy's whine at his words. It's been a long time since a simple blowjob left him feeling like that. Completely worn out, but deeply satisfied.

When he finally regains his composure, he looks down to see Deputy Tillman still on his knees, looking up at him with wide, dazed eyes. Eddie grins down at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

"Good boy," he purrs, watching as the Deputy's eyes flash with a mix of indignation and satisfaction.

Maybe tonight doesn't have to be over right now.

Smiling, Eddie steps over him and heads for the bed, leaving the Deputy on his knees in the middle of the room. He sinks down on the edge of the bed, his legs slightly apart, and takes in the sight before him.

It takes his breath away.

He can't get over how the hard lines of the man's strong body look unexpectedly soft in his vulnerable position, less coiled serpent and more obedient puppy. The Deputy has surpassed all of Eddie's expectations tonight and he wants to reward him. Wants to encourage this unsuspected side of him, maybe even dig a little deeper to find more of it.

Deputy Sheriff Gator Tillman is more than meets the eye and Eddie is itching to know how much more.

“Look at me,” he tells the kneeling man and after a moment’s hesitation, still slightly unfocused eyes find his. Eddie knows that this must have been pretty intense for someone who hasn’t done anything like that before and the Deputy looks like he’s still far away, only slowly coming back to the here and now. His eyes roam over where Eddie’s body is perched on the edge of the bed with a questioning look on his face.

"Very good," Eddie purrs and smiles down at him. "I promised you a reward, and after how well you did on your knees for me, I think you deserve my mouth on you now."

Hazel's eyes widen in pleasant surprise at the promise, but when the Deputy starts to get up, Eddie stops him. "Who said you could get up again, pretty boy?"

The look of confusion on the man's face is adorable, Eddie thinks before he can stop himself. This is neither the time nor the place to get attached. He can't deny that the Deputy has gotten under his skin, but he'll deal with that when he's back on the road and their night is a distant memory. Just another pretty boy haunting his dreams.

"If you want your reward, you have to come here to get it." He waits for his words to sink in, but the confused puppy dog look doesn't leave the Deputy's face, so he clarifies, "On your knees, Deputy."

He can tell the exact moment the words finally sink in when Tillman closes his eyes as his hips twitch eagerly. If he didn't just come his brains out of his dick and into the Deputy's mouth, Eddie would get hard again at the sight. The man keeps surprising him. No matter what Eddie throws at him, he takes to it like a fish to water, so eager to please, so easily led.

With an eager tilt of his pretty mouth, the Deputy crawls over to Eddie, staying on his knees as he moves between Eddie's spread legs, a look of hungry anticipation in his eyes. Eddie can't wait to show him what a real reward feels like.

He cups the man's face with his hand and pulls him closer so he can lean in and whisper in his ear. "Strip for me, pretty boy. Show me how beautiful you are."

For the first time since they started this whole thing, Deputy Tillman is using his mouth for something other than sucking on Eddie's thumb and cock. "Can I stand up for this?" He asks and Eddie hears some of the petulance creep back into his voice even though his words remain perfectly polite. Like a puppy, the man is eager to be good, but he also loves to test Eddie's limits.

"You may. But do it slowly, I want to enjoy the show."

"I thought this was my reward, not yours?"

Ah, there is the fire he was met with earlier, Eddie thinks. Despite what some people might think about him, he likes a challenge, and if the Deputy wants to make Eddie work for it, then he can. It's part of the game, and he enjoys it just as much as he did when the man was on his knees gagging for it.

Eddie leans back leisurely, spreading his legs a little wider, deliberately giving Tillman an unobstructed view of his slender body. He wears a smirk on his face, a confidence born from countless encounters of this kind. "Well, Deputy," he begins, his voice smooth like aged whiskey. The corners of his mouth twitch up into a devilish grin. "It's your reward, of course. But don't think for a second that I won't get my share of enjoyment out of this too." He leans in a little closer, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. "Now, show me what you've got."

Rising to his feet, the Deputy does as he's told and with every inch of tantalizing skin he reveals, Eddie's hands twitch with the desire to touch. His skin is smooth, the fine hair on it almost golden, with the exception of his chest hair, which is dark and thick. There are beauty marks of all sizes and shapes all over his body, little beacons that call out to him to put his mouth all over them. His body is athletic, arms and legs defined but not bulky like Eddie has seen a lot of cops. Those muscles come from physical work, not pumping at the gym.

Eddie's favorite part, though, are the Deputy's legs. They seem to go on for miles, the golden hair and thick thighs make his mouth water. He wants them wrapped around his waist as he pounds into the tight heat of what must be a virgin ass, eliciting broken moans and high-pitched whimpers. For now, though, he'll take those thighs wrapped around his head.

"Come here, Deputy," Eddie says, patting the bed next to him. "Let's see how good you can be for me." He can't wait to feel those strong thighs tremble around his head as he shows Deputy Tillman exactly how good his tendencies can feel.

With a slight hesitation, the Deputy crawls onto the bed, his movements a little awkward without his clothes on. But Eddie doesn't mind. It's just another sign of how new this is for him, how far out of his comfort zone he is. And Eddie likes that about him. The way he's willing to put himself out there, to try something new and scary. It's unexpected, but endearing. It makes Eddie want to reward him all the more.

He guides Tillman until he's straddling Eddie's chest, his knees resting on either side of his shoulders. His cock is hard and leaking against his belly and Eddie can't resist reaching up to wrap a hand around it, giving it a light squeeze. Tillman hisses at the touch, his hips jerking forward into Eddie's hand.

"Easy, Deputy," Eddie says, his voice low and soothing. "I told you, this is your reward. Just relax and let me take care of you."

Then he begins to stroke Tillman in earnest, his hand moving up and down his length in a slow, steady rhythm. He watches Tillman's face as he does so, watching as his eyes flutter closed and his lips part with a soft moan. The sight sends a rush of satisfaction through him, knowing he's the one making the Deputy feel this way.

But it's not enough. He wants to taste him as well. He wants to feel the way Tillman tastes on his tongue, the way he squirms and moans as Eddie takes him in his mouth. He wants to hear the way Tillman curses under his breath, the way he begs for more.

So he leans up, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Tillman's cock before taking him in his mouth. The taste of him, salty and a little sweet, is intoxicating and Eddie moans around him, the vibration causing Tillman to gasp and buck his hips forward. But Eddie holds him steady, one hand on his hip as he continues to suck him off.

The sounds Tillman makes as Eddie works him with his mouth and hands are music to Eddie's ears. He can feel the way Tillman's body tenses under his touch, the way his breath hitches every time Eddie does something he particularly likes. And Eddie uses all of this to his advantage, learning what makes Tillman tick, what makes him moan and gasp and beg for more.

It's not long before Tillman is coming undone under Eddie's touch. His moans grow louder, his hips start to move in time with Eddie's strokes, and his fingers clutch at the sheets beneath them. And when he comes, Eddie swallows him down, his own cock throbbing in response to the sight of Tillman losing himself to pleasure.

But even after Tillman's body goes slack, Eddie doesn't stop. He licks him clean, pressing soft kisses to his sensitive skin until Tillman is squirming and whimpering beneath him. Only then does he pull back, his eyes meeting Tillman's as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"That was your reward, Deputy," he says, his voice low and satisfied. "I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did."

The look in Tillman's eyes tells him he did, even if the Deputy can't find the words to say it. And that's more than enough for Eddie. Part of him thinks he'd actually like the Deputy to stay the night, to get comfortable under the blankets with a warm body in his arms for the first time in a long time. It's been a while since he felt connected enough to someone to let them stay close after they both got what they wanted out of their hookup.

Even longer since the last time Eddie considered a next time. And then another. It's a slippery slope, he knows, so he does the only logical thing.

He taps the thighs that are still clutching his shoulders until Tillman falls to the side and lies down beside him. Without looking at the other man, Eddie says, "I'm going to take a shower. I think it's best if you're gone when I get back."

Stripping off his clothes as he makes his way to the tiny bathroom, he continues to look everywhere but at the naked, beautiful man on his bed. They've both had their fun and now it's time to move on. Easy as that, right? Right.

Or not, because just as he opens the door to step out of the room that smells of sweat and sex, a deep, gravelly voice stops him.

"What's your name?"

Shit.

"Why? So you can look me up? Arrest me as soon as the sun comes up on some trumped up charge of sucking your dick?"

Maybe that's unfair, but in his experience you can't trust a cop, and it's on him that he forgot that, even for a second. That's what he gets for thinking with his dick.

"No," Deputy Tillman replies, his voice surprisingly soft. "I just want to know the name of the guy who just blew my fucking mind, is all."

And that's...huh. Eddie doesn't even know what to do with that.

"It's Eddie."

"Just Eddie?"

"That's all you need to know so you can moan it the next time you jack off, sweetheart." He turns around with a smirk as he says it, but he'd be lying if he said the thought of Tillman moaning his name didn't do it for him. If a next time wasn't such an epically bad idea, he'd like to hear it himself as he takes the man apart.

"Maybe I will," the Deputy replies, and Eddie wants to believe him. "Next time you should call me Gator, ya know? Only fair."

Next time?

"There won't be a next time, Deputy. This was a one-time thing."

And damn it, he shouldn't have turned around, because the look in Gator's-no, Tillman's-eyes is hurt.

It's not that Eddie enjoys hurting the guy, but it's better this way. Safer.

"Goodbye, Gator." He says as he steps into the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

The hot shower feels good, relieving some of the tension that had crept into his shoulders and neck after their conversation. He loses himself in the task of getting clean, scrubbing away the remnants of the night, and when he steps back out into the empty bedroom, he almost feels like himself again. The last few hours hadn't been how he expected to spend his first night in this shithole of a town, but he can't say he regrets a single thing.

As he settles into the soft mattress, he can't help but think that despite all the trouble, Dickinson, North Dakota might not be so bad after all.

Happy very belated birthday @baronsamediswife 💜💜💜Thank you for indulging me and watching Fargo and Marmalade with me and letting me ramble about how pretty Joe Keery is.

[revasserium]

a pantheon of ghosts

osamu dazai; 1.636 words; mostly fluff, with a tiny bit of suggestiveness in the middle but nothing explicit; normal dazai warnings apply but its cute i swear

there’s a notebook he keeps with the names and ages of every single person he’s ever killed.

it’s very kunikida-kun of him, yes, he knows. and when first he tells you, you’d blinked at the tremor like the first warning thrum of an earthquake behind the skyscrapers of his voice. and then, you smile and remind yourself that skyscrapers are nothing but a glass and metal and a foolish human defiance of gravity — you reach out your hand, palm up.

“so?”

“h…ha?”

dazai blinks.

“the book. where is it? i wanna see.”

he blinks again.

“a-ah! i don’t have it right now — you see — it’s in this bulletproof safe inside the last vault of a very fancy bank and i just… lost… the key…” his voice trails off as you quirk an eyebrow, your hand still outstretched.

the notebook, it turns out, is kept in a locked drawer in ranpo-san’s desk. safest place for it, dazai had claimed as he tugs out the tiny thing and hands it to you.

that night, he spends too many hours mapping your body with the silk and silver of his tongue.

later, after he has fulfilled himself of the cartography of you, you lie on your stomach, flipping through it’s pages.

you read out a name, and dazai tells you a thing about them —

“morimoto keisuke,” you say.

“ah — he was an office worker — skinny little guy, wife and two kids — sons… if i remember correctly —” and he always does, “he had a bad habit of gambling… shame he only ever bet on the losing horses…”

“miura tatsuya,” you say.

“oh yes! this one — young man, so beautiful that he’d often get stopped in the streets — a ton of agencies tried to scout him but… he liked to make his living crossdressing at night in kabukichou… i considered asking him to commit a double suicide with me, y’know — obviously, this was before i met you, darling — “

“tadakoro suzume,” you say.

“ah… she was…” dazai turns his eyes towards you. in the darkness, you can see the streetlights reflected in them like shards of shattered stars. he leans over, trails his fingers along the soft of your cheek.

“she was… difficult.”

“difficult… to kill?”

you turn towards him, letting the notebook fall shut.

“yes… she was — one of my last before…” he lets out a soft laugh, “before that bastard odasaku grew me a heart.”

you inch closer, push your palm against chest; outside, the light of a passing car paints the wall behind him in slivers of white before the light fades and you’re left blinking with the afterimage, printed across the backs of your eyelids. you taste dazai’s lips on yours before you feel him pressing in.

“isn’t it terrible?” he asks, “all these lives that i’ve taken?” and there’s a shudder in his voice that’s caught between fear and elation. you curl in closer, cup his cheek and let your nails dig into the bandages at the back of his throat. you tug them one, twice — hear dazai’s breath hitch into panting gasps.

“n-ngh — please —”

you bite his bottom lip, taste the metallic sting of blood and feel his hips kick against yours.

you grin to yourself as you press him back, crawling over him to straddle his body, pulling back just far enough to hear him hiss.

“yes,” you say, “it was terrible,” you say, even as you lean down to kiss him, even as you hold his face like a wishbone cupped between your palms. you kiss him like a wish made on a dandelion seed and grin as he whimpers beneath you.

“but there’s also that woman you saved — last tuesday — do you remember?” you ask, pulling back just enough for him to lean up and chase you, a whine twisting his way out of his throat as he yanks you back down, rakes his nails along your sides, down your back, digging crescent moons into the thick of your hips as you grind down over him.

“y-you mean that lady i pulled back from the crosswalk? sh-she wouldn’t have been hit by the bus even if i —”

“you won’t have done that before.”

the rustle of sheets goes quiet. and for a few precious seconds, the bedroom is just the sound of breathing. him and you and the world — taking one collective breath.

“i… i might have…” dazai swallows, his eyes flickering away from your face before you give him a tiny shake and force his gaze back onto you, “if i were… bored enough…”

you cock your head, and beneath your hands you can feel dazai’s skin simmering hot and then hotter.

“and then, there’s the nice old man at the tea house —”

“yes, but that was an agency assignment — he paid us —”

“would you have killed those people if you weren’t in port mafia to begin with?”

“i —” dazai stutters.

you lean back with a satisfied smirk, even as dazai pouts, his hands going slack around your waist.

“c’mon,” you say, swinging your leg from around his hips and slipping off the bed. dazai squawks, pushing himself up as he sputters after you.

“w-where are you going?”

you roll your eyes and pad back to the side of the bed, reaching out a hand.

“come on.”

he eyes your hand for a moment before sighing and taking it, letting you drag him bodily from the bed, downstairs into the living room where you spend too long rummaging around a few drawers before you jerk up with a triumphant a-ha!

you’re holding a notebook — in the darkness, dazai can’t really tell what the color of the cover is but it’s small. you grin toothily up at him as you drag him back up to the bedroom and plop down on the bed. the bedside table clicks on; dazai winces in the sudden brightness, in the warmth and light suddenly spilling from your side of the bed.

you’re lying on your stomach, your pillow shoved beneath your chest, pulling the cap of a pen off with your teeth, your feet kicking up behind you as you glance over at him. behind you, the lamp is spilling something like sunlight over your shoulders.

he’d never stopped to notice how warm bedside lamps are before today. or maybe, he’d noticed but he’d never thought about it until today. against it — your body looks like a cardboard cutout of what 'happiness' might look like.

“so!” you say, laughing as he slumps down on the bed beside you, making you bounce just a tad as he wiggles over to you, curling an arm around your waist again to pull you closer, “the lady… at the crosswalk… i thought she looked like… early 20’s? right?”

you scribble down your words as you say them, looking up when you’ve finished the first line.

the ink on the page is blue, not black like it is in his little death-ledger, as he’s grown to call it.

he blinks.

“uh… twenty-four, i think.”

you frown, “you think? that’s… really specific.”

dazai shrugs, “well, based on the texture of her hair ad the make of her —”

“okay, okay — got it, sherlock — so, twenty… four…” you mark down the number before moving to the next line, “old man at the teahouse —”

“sakanoshita kentarou,” dazai says, only for you to whip around and stare at him. he stares back, “what? he was an agency client! we keep files on everyone who requests our services…”

you press your mouth into a line but he doesn’t miss the twitch at the edge of your lips.

“okay — and age?”

“seventy three.”

you nod, penning that in.

and then, you move to the next line, listing down every agency member, and then all the port mafia folks you know the names of.

“w-wait, what are you doing?”

“listing people whose lives you’ve saved.”

“but…” dazai stares, and stares, and then finally, he drops his face into the pillow next to you with a loud, theatrical groan, “ah… has anyone ever told you that you’re perfect?”

you roll your eyes, “you don’t believe in perfection,” you say, turning back to the notebook.

“no… i didn’t,” dazai murmurs, shifting to pillow his cheek on his hands as he watches you continue to scribble.

your pen pauses, “didn’t?”

the use of past tense doesn’t escape you.

dazai smirks, “mm, yep.”

you narrow your eyes even as you feel your cheeks start to warm beneath his unrelenting gaze.

“w-what changed?”

dazai laughs, leaning in to poke your cheek with a forefinger, his eyes nearly as dazzling as his smile.

“now, now… you know i hate it when you ask questions you know the answers to…”

you bite your lips and turn back to the page. you’d been halfway through writing your own name, but dazai reaches out to take the pen from you and finishes off the last few strokes.

he pulls you in and presses his lips to your forehead.

“y’know… i hated you when we first met,” he says, casual, as he curls in next to you, watching as you continue to pen in names.

“yeah? i remember you told me that…” you turn to glance at him.

dazai nods, “you were the first person i met that made me want to keep on living… and for that, i don’t think i can ever forgive you.”

you smile, “well… i can live with that.”

dazai smiles as if accepting a challenge —

“yeah? well… so can i."

bsd dazai requests are open pls send me some i'm THIRSTY