#Confessions of a Police Captain

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Our Little Love part eight - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au

Mr Kim has a chapter all to himself of 6.8K words, please enjoy and PLEASE let me know what you think. Trigger warnings: manipulation, coercion, corruption, interrogation, mentions of murder and other crimes, swearing, jealousy, possessive yandere behaviour, fingering, orgasm denial, mirror sex, light choking. I am awful with warnings, please forgive me.

Namjoon wasn’t all that impressed with seeing the Chief of police visiting his cell, the syndicate boss was dressed too well to belong there, it was almost an eyesore. A glance to the camera, the normal red blinking light absent tells him all he needs to know. There were no eyes or ears to this conversation. 

“I thought I paid you to keep your men in line,” Namjoon says in lieu of greeting. “Was a bullet to the knee not warning enough for your dear Captain?”

“He wasn’t an issue when I spoke to him, the man was on leave!” the chief replied. “Your girl was the problem he-”

“Be very careful how you finish that sentence,” he advised with a deep angry rumble from his chest. “I am well aware who is at fault here, and regardless of what our little love does, she is never to blame.”

Chief Lee Soo-man only nods once, biting back his complaints.

“I asked you to sort out Kim Suho, I told you to keep him in check,” Namjoon growls. “Keeping your pockets full isn’t an act of charity Lee, it’s a purchase. I own you.”

“Yes sir,” he mumbles in response. “I assure you this arrest is just a formality, the case won’t stand once it’s revealed Detective L/n-”

The glare the man in the blazerless three piece suit gave him was enough to stop him in his tracks. Right, he couldn’t involve you in this, that was going to make things harder than they needed to be.

“What do you recommend then sir?” he asks when he finds his voice and wavering courage. 

Namjoon sighs harshly, and the Chief swears he can almost see smoke. 

“I want to be alone with my little love,” it’s not a request, the chief didn’t let the soft lilt of his fool him. 

“I don’t know how that would be poss-”

“I want-” Namjoon cuts in, unable to bear another second of this blithering idiot, “her to be the one to interrogate me. And I can trust you understand the rest.”

“Y-yessssir,” he stutters, not completely hearing the words between the lines, and that was clear enough on his face. 

“I want her alone, Sooman,” Namjoon repeats himself, if this were one of his men he would never have needed to. “I don’t want a single soul witness to what I’m going to do to her.”

—

Suho tugs you along by the arm, stumbling in his urgent pace, pulling you out of ear shot.

“We have a problem.”

“What problem?”

“I’m technically on health leave, brass says I can’t interrogate him,” he stares a hole into you as if his eyes were telling you the rest but you couldn’t understand.

“Okay so who’s replacing you?”

He huffs out a breath of air from his nose, knowing you weren’t going to like the command from way over his head.

Your heart beats hard in anticipation, why was he looking at you like that?

“As far as Brass are aware you were deep undercover,” Suho informs you slowly, deliberately, looking like he was about to tear your world to trash. He sighs, unable to get the words out.

“Suho what?”

“They want you to interrogate him,” he breathes, you think you’ve misheard him, but you know you haven’t.

Your world spins, you’re already shaking your head.

“I can’t,” you whisper, he knows full well that you can’t. “I resigned, I’m not a detective anymore.”

He sighs again, hesitation in his eyes. 

“I never processed it,” he confesses.

“Y-you di-”

“I couldn’t, I knew you would see reason, I knew you would come back,” he doesn’t let you process the shock, explaining himself quickly. 

“Suho I can’t I can’t,” you beg, the conviction you had to punish them now suddenly taking a back seat as fear overtakes you, “right now they believe I was deep undercover but he’s not going to let that-“

“Listen to me,” he interrupts you before you can fully submerge into a panic attack, taking your hand in his. “I’m going to be in the next room, as soon as he says anything that compromises you, I’ll turn off the cameras, okay?”

“But-“

You’re interrupted again when the door opens, both of you whipping your heads to see him being transferred by four officers to the interrogation room. His eyes find you, staring stoic holes into you before his gaze finds Suho’s hands comforting yours. The snarl of displeasure is brief but you definitely see it, and you can’t breathe.

Suho draws your attention back to him, tugging your hand softly.

“Do you trust me Y/n?” he implores you, eyes searching yours in a way that made Namjoon want to strangle him with the chains on his handcuffs. You look up at your Captain with such light in your eyes, a way you should never look at another man, and then you have the audacity to nod. 

—

You’ve done this a hundred times, if not more. So why were you hesitating at the door? Your hand on the handle, all you had to do was turn it and face the music but you couldn’t even manage finding your breath. 

Interrogation was a science, it was like riding a bike, you knew what you had to do, you had to command the room. It almost sounded like a joke, the worst one you’d ever heard. Command a room when Kim Namjoon was in it? 

The thought makes you hyperventilate. No, it wasn’t going to be easy but you could control what you could. You borrowed clothes from an old colleague, a skirt and blouse, simple but professional. Suho’s old blazer too, as if layers would protect you. You had splashed water on your face in the bathroom, using makeup from evidence to make yourself look presentable, composed. Your impromptu freshening up had meant you left the syndicate leader waiting for a long time, and it absolutely 100% was not because you were trying to kill time, it was to make him stew in the room, a technique you had used multiple times prev- who were you trying to convince? 

You needed to get this over with. 

Your face is impassive when you finally open the door, his gaze is on you immediately and you can feel a certain type of guilt and shame try to seep its way into you, but you push it down far enough that you can pretend it’s not there.

“Mr Kim Namjoon,” you greet him stoically.

“Detective L/n,” he returns, playing along with a small smile, as if seeing an old acquaintance after a long time. The way he addressed you shouldn’t cut you, logically it made no sense not when you’re the one that got him in the box, but it did. 

You approach the table he’s chained to, looking at the wood instead of his eyes as if he didn’t matter, or at least that’s how you wanted it perceived. Avoiding eye contact with the most dangerous man the whole country had ever come to know, meant you missed the way his stare moved to your clothes, particularly your blazer, recognising it was a man’s, and he could confidently guess exactly who it belonged to. Any friendliness on his face disappeared, he wanted to play games and now he just wanted to torture you a little, punish you for you actions. Patience, he tells himself, that would come later.

The file in your hands slaps the table as you throw it down, taking a seat opposite your boyfriend, a man you now convinced yourself you wanted behind bars. 

What do they say about a woman scorned? Namjoon thinks to himself, admiring the fire he could see burning underneath your skin, and though he knew he would feel the burn, he would welcome it. It was no secret that he had a fantasy about you interrogating him, he introduced the role play to the bedroom soon after your return to them but it lacked the flames of heat he could feel today. 

“Allow me to formally introduce myself,” you reply. “My name is detective Y/n L/n, I’ve been undercover at your… establishment for the past year and a half.”

“Is that right?” he barely suppressed his amusement but it didn’t phase you. Your professional head was on, this was just another criminal you had to put away, that was it. 

You open the file, sliding out photos of him that you had sent in as intel in your early days undercover as well as surveillance photos that Suho had taken since you were MIA. 

“Do you know who this man is Mr Kim,” you say, sliding the first of the photos to him.

“Can’t say I do detective,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not even glancing away from you. 

“Do you want to try looking at his face first before you answer,” you insisted unimpressed. 

He smiles, still staring at you. 

“I don’t recognise him,” he repeats himself slowly. 

“So this isn’t you in the photo?” You ask.

“I don’t know,” his grin only grows.

“This man, Jackson Wang, is dead, and the last person who saw him alive seems to have been you Mr Kim, at least based on the time stamp on this photo and the time of death from the post mortem.”

“Is that right,” he says again, sounding like a broken record. His eyes swim with admiration for you, you can see it though you can’t understand it at all with the current scene. Why wasn’t he fuming, why wasn’t he demanding an answer or explanation?

“Okay let's cut the crap since I know you’re far too clever for that Mr Kim,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes. “I have gathered evidence of your crimes from the last 18 months, and I will stand in court as a witness against you.”

“Are you allowed to do that little love?” he asks, the name has a pang of panic hit you, but you tell yourself you can explain it away to brass.

“The charges you're facing so far are murder, battery, and grand larceny to name a few,” you state ignoring him, flicking through the photos, throwing each one in front of him. “There are many more to follow.”

“I didn’t know partners could testify against each other,” he mused, smirk still strong on his face.

“I’m not your partner,” you object. “I was undercover.”

“No,” he contends, shaking his head like this was just a game to him. “You can’t fake a love like ours, heaven.”

You almost snort as if his point was ridiculous.

“I don’t think I could ever love someone like you Mr Kim,” your stare was ice cold, that finally wipes the smile off his face. 

“You’re angry,” he states as if it was new information for you. “I get that little love, but this is a bit too much, don’t you think?”

“I think justice needs to be served, don't you?” you sneered. “People got hurt, some people died, someone needs to pay.”

“You and I both know they deserved it,” he declares as if there wasn’t a camera recording his confession. “You’re just angry because I stepped on a bug.”

Utter rage brewed like a storm in your chest, and you wanted the downpour to drown him. 

“You sound like you’re ready to sign the confession Mr Kim,” you don’t break your stare. “That’s great, saves us a lot of time, thank you.”

You close the file, pushing the chair back to stand. 

“I’m not done with you,” he growled.

“But I’m done with you.” 

“Y/n sit,” he commands calmly, composing himself. “Throwing a fit isn’t going to fix things.”

“Throwing a fit?” The audacity of this man, you stand there in shock. 

“Let’s talk it through,” he says to you as if you were being hysterical. 

“Fuck you,” you spit. 

“Talk to me Y/n,” he scolded you like you were a child. “Without this bullshit.”

“Fine! You wanna talk about it Namjoon,” you snapped, taking the seat again, throwing the file haphazardly on the desk. “Let’s talk about it.”

The glare you present him with doesn’t make him flinch, it doesn’t phase him. You hope Suho had enough sense to turn the cameras off by now, this would go nowhere. 

“You manipulated me, you lied to me, you made me play the fool.”

He didn’t react, not a single muscle on his face moved and it fanned whatever flame explode inside of you like a bomb. This was his true colours underneath the mask of love and adoration he created for you.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore Namjoon I can see right through you,” you state. “And you are never touching me again.”

That made him look at you, really look at you, something shifted in his gaze, a slight smirk as if he was mocking you.

You could cry kick and scream about the injustice he put you through in the name of this fucked up love and he wouldn’t flinch. He would sit there and watch and then the fucker would have the audacity to laugh afterwards. He must’ve laughed at how stupid you were in trusting him when he lied.

“At least if you go to prison, I’ll finally be free,” you whisper like it’s a life line.

He’s still unmoved, sitting there as if you were invisible and it irked the fuck out of you. He was the one who wanted to talk, why the fuck was he silent now? 

You wanted him to hurt you wanted him to feel an ounce of what you did in the light of his betrayal. He tore your heart out and you weren’t going to forgive him.

“I must’ve looked so pathetic,” you say in a self deprecating tone, looking at the ceiling as if someone could answer you. “Suho was right.”

That comment makes his blood boil hard enough to show on his face. There it was, the reaction you were waiting for and you took the bait without thinking about what you were trying to catch or what you were trapped with.

“I should’ve trusted him, he’s always had my back and my best interest at heart.”

His jaw clenches, a fist squeezing nothing but air although he probably wished it was the captain's neck.

“Kai and Suho are all I have left,” you goad him, unsure of what exactly it was that you wanted to prove. “And finally I’m back where I belong.”

“If you don’t want a bullet in each of their heads, you need to stop talking love,” he grunts through gritted teeth.

Something inside of you felt vindicated and you realise then what you wanted from him, proof he fucking cared, that you weren’t some pawn or prize in this game of crime. You wanted him to soothe the very cuts he caused, or rip your heart out hard enough that you could bleed him out of your system forever.

“Oh please Namjoon, just admit why you kept me around for so long,” you scoff. “I can only imagine how it felt to have the lead detective on your case in the palm of your hands, like a trophy, a big fuck you to the justice system.”

You laugh sounding a little maniacal.

“You had me, and I fell for all of it.”

“You’re forgetting I didn’t know your true origins at first little love,” his low voice is a warning, he looks at you like he needed to remind you who you belonged to.

“And you’re forgetting I know you,” you bite back. “Any hint of betrayal and you pull the trigger first and ask questions later.”

He stares at you, grimacing.

“And yet here I am, alive.”

“Because I love you,” he says it so casually it throws you off, like it was a fundamental part of his being, like breathing.

“Because you saw an opportunity,” you rationalise.

“Because I could never lose you,” he confesses. “You could rip out my heart, little love and I would still want you, why else would I be here?”

You frown, what did he mean? He was here because you paid an eye for an eye, you betrayed him.

“What’s done is done,” you say as if you were unconcerned. “I will testify against you.”

He leans closer across the table, words for your ears only.

“Do you think you’ll be able to handle seeing Jungkook in prison, love?” Namjoon whispers. “Knowing you put him there? It would kill you.”

The pain his words brought forth only proved them to be true. You did have a soft spot for the youngest, always had. You break eye contact first, looking down at the file and turning back and forth a page as if in contemplation but really to cool your nerves.

Were you really doing this? Sending Yoongi, Jin, Hoseok, Jimin, Tae and Kookie to jail because of an angry outburst? Now your emotions had time to settle after the bomb that exploded when you saw Suho; you weren’t so sure.

“I never thought you could betray us like this,” he says solemnly, continuing to manipulate your guilt, but he forgot about your fire. He could almost see the coals ignite in your eyes, a misstep on his part, one he realised when a snarl forms on your lips.

“You. Lied.” You state ferociously. “I asked you if you hurt him and you lied to me.”

“So you decided to have us all arrested,” he continues, “for a man you stated you didn’t care about like that.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you seethe, unable to sit with him any longer, pacing the room before you raised a finger to his face. “You played me like a fool Namjoon, and I refuse to play the part anymore.”

“I wanted him dead, little love,” he states in a low voice through gritted teeth. “Do you understand what a mercy-”

“I asked you not to hurt him!”

“Then you underestimated our wrath!” he retorted. “I couldn’t let him go in one piece, and you didn’t need to know.”

“No. You underestimated MY wrath Kim Namjoon!” You burst, slamming the desk with your hand, the sting burning, your face heating more and more with rage as it concealed your heartache. “I am not some docile doll for you to play with, and manipulate and LIE TO! You took my love for granted when it was a damn fucking privilege.”

Your chest heaves with each breath, he stayed composed while you looked like a wild animal finally let out of her cage.

“You think this obsession is love,” your voice broke at the last word, the floods of heartbreak dampening the fires. “And I did too, but it’s fucked up everything.”

His silence was eating you alive, his face giving nothing of his heart away while yours laid bare out between you.

“You know what I’m done,” you breathe, “have fun rotting in jail Namjoon.”

Tears drop out of the corner of your eyes as you walk away, his piercing gaze doing nothing to deter you. He might’ve had power over you once but that was before he betrayed you. You reach for the door handle, tugging, ready to leave him behind until his trial, but the door doesn’t budge. You still, mind blank for a second before panic overwhelms you. You try again with all your might, pulling as hard as you can over and over before releasing your grip with a harsh breath. You take a gulp, calming yourself, he planned this.

You’re not surprised when you hear the sound of the handcuffs undo or the chains hit the floor. Fucking bastard. An alarm started blaring in the building, loud and overwhelming, but it came too late. Red lights flash, the room glowing as if warning you about the oncoming danger.

“Are we done with your outburst little love,” he says coldly, like your grievances were nothing more than a tantrum.

You turn to face him slowly, more tears dropping without a sound, shaking your head at the way his words cut you down to nothing.

When he stands from the seat your heart gallops with fear and panic. Although it’s helpless you turn back to the door, trying with all your might to open it and escape him. The fire alarm blaring does nothing to ease you, you hang onto the door as you feel him approach, tears falling out of your eyes without control.

Fuck, you were stuck here with the man you sent to jail, you were left to his mercy. His presence looms over you, you can feel him a hair's width behind you, not touching you, not really, but he’s so close it’s overwhelming.

It’s when you feel his breath you freeze, your body shutting down with dread. He presses his cheek to your hair, inhaling you softly. The action makes you jolt away, turning to the side but he grabs your wrist tightly. You don’t look at him, you stare into the two way mirror, your cheeks pathetically wet. You were supposed to hold the power in this room, but you could feel it dwindle away to nothing but smoke.

You’re slammed against the door hard, a whimper escaping your lips as your eyes scrunched in pain. You miss the flash of guilt in his eyes, realising he pushed you too hard. An apology on his lips but the glare when your eyes open stops him. He’s seen anger in your eyes before, hate even, for he knew love didn’t come without it. But fear? Never of him, not even in the days when you were undercover and your life was one unveiled secret away from ending. 

“Get away from me,” you seethe, meaning every word, even when you saw the hurt in his eyes. 

Regret, Kim Namjoon never knew the feeling before, but he knew he never wanted you to look at him the way you were. He needed to keep his calm, one wrong push and you would tear him out of your own heart.

Your eyes fly all over the room, trying to piece together a way to gain some distance. Suho… maybe he was still behind the glass. You tug your wrist as hard as you can, taking steps away from him but his hold is relentless. The blare of the alarm stops ringing but the flashing red lights remain, staining the walls like blood pumping.

“Little lo-“ he starts to say with a sigh, he was being patient but there was only so much time left.

“Suho?” You call desperately trying to look through the glass. You know you’ve made a mistake before you even said his name but fear drives people to do stupid things without thinking.

The most notorious criminal in all of Seoul pulls you back against his chest hard. An arm wraps around your waist, the unforgiving grip on your wrist turning lethal. He rests his chin on your shoulder, staring at you through the mirror. The hairs on your skin stood on end at the frightening change in his eyes, danger rolled off of him and you had no choice but to take every wave.

“Do you think he’s there, love?” The corner of his lip lifts in a smirk that makes you think of a snake, the saccharine tone of his voice hypnotising. “Do you think he’s watching us?”

The palm on your hip moves down to your thigh, he squeezes the flesh. You could feel your heart jumping in your throat.

“Should we give him something to watch?” He murmurs seductively, turning his head to bring his lips so close to your neck. The bruising clutch on your wrist is gone only to find its way to your hair, yanking it back to give himself better access.

Your eyes in the mirror are begging but the inner turmoil from his touch is making you question what exactly you’re asking for. Reason tells you it’s for Suho to save you, to grant you escape, but the way you feel a familiar heat swim to your core has you doubting yourself.

“If he was in there,” he whispers, his lips now on your ear, “don’t you think he’d come in here and try to take you from me, love?”

He chuckles to himself, a joke only he can understand.

“Fuck I’d love to see him try.”

His groan has you aching, your body relapsing to what it knows, anticipating the pleasure and pain only they could provide. 

​​“I’m not mad at you for having us arrested, heaven,” he whispers in your ear, gaze softening for a second in the mirror lulling you into a sense of security you couldn’t tell if it was a trap. “In fact I’m a little in awe, a little proud.”

The smirk he gives you seems genuine.

“We deserved it I know,” reassurance fills his voice, he wants you to hear his sincerity. “What I’m mad about, little love…”

The softness is gone, eyes turn piercing, the proverbial snake about to strike.

“Is the fact you let another man touch what’s mine.”

The guttural rumble of his possessive claim sent waves of need down to your cunt, you could feel it pulsing. 

“I’m mine,” you return meekly, trying to find your resolve, but it sounded like a whine.

“Make no mistake Y/n, you’re always going to be mine.”

You didn’t have it in you to argue, not when he sent your eyes rolling back and a shiver down your spine. Fuck he hadn’t even touched you yet, maybe it was true, maybe a part of you would always belong to them, but that didn’t mean all if you did.

“Look at me,” he commands, his breath hitting your neck.

Your blown out eyes meet him in the mirror, that predatory but protective gaze piercing through you. He hums in approval the deep vibration fucking with your senses, making you hazy. 

You both hold eye contact even when you can see the fingers on your thigh stroke soothing circles up your skin. Your lips part with a harsh breath when they rub your mound through the fabric of your panties, the touch light and testing and not nearly enough. 

“You’re fucking soaking wet baby,” he calls you out with a grin.

You grab his wrist when his fingers cup your heat, his thumb soothing circles on your clit. You press against him, the warmth of his chest enveloping your back. You both fit so well together, you were forgetting why exactly you were so angry at him, but simmers of it still remained even through his touch. 

“You know,” he says, opening your leg with his knee to give him more access, “a lot of couples fuck through their problems, should we try?”

He hides his grin, burying his head in you but you can feel it against your skin, the arrogant asshole. 

“You can go and fuck yourself,” you sassed back, lying to yourself that you could be fine if he stopped now, that it wouldn’t leave you a needy mess. 

“But I’d rather fuck you,” he chuckles, breathing you in, savouring the moment while his fingers slide the fabric aside. 

You choke back a moan at the contact of his skin right where you wanted him, the way he spread your wetness until every inch of you was covered in it. 

“You can pretend to regret our relationship all you want, but this,” he emphasises his point by slapping your cunt hard, making you gasp, “still wants me.”

“It wants to get fucked,” you spitefully remark through gritted teeth, “doesn’t have to be you.”

That makes him pause, and you have to bite back the words of displeasure. 

“You’ll pay for that next time love,” he murmurs dangerously. 

“There won’t be a next time,” you try to ridicule him through a laugh but his fingers circle your entrance. 

“You’re lying,” he hums, “next time, I think we should tie you down, make you watch other women touch us in ways only you’re allowed to.”

You bury the fury that ruptures at the image, clenching your jaw to keep from swearing at him and proving the point he was trying to make.

“Maybe then you’d have a semblance of understanding of what you did- the torture you put us through.”

“I wouldn’t care,” you breathe, squirming against his fingers, he needed to shut up and move.

“Liar,” he chuckles knowingly, seeing right through you. Before you, there were many females in his organisation, until his little love demanded he get rid of them all. The memory stretches his grin wider. 

“Why the fuck was it me?” You whisper, your eyes starting to water at the vulnerability of your tone, remembering the same moment he was. “When I went undercover there were so many beautiful women-“

“They’re not you, little love, don’t for a second compare yourself to them,” he kisses your temple softly in reassurance. His face is in your hair, his hand on your throat as you preen to his touch. “You were sweet and addicting with a fire you were trying so desperately to contain.”

He thrusts two fingers in gently, watching your face contort in want in the mirror, smiling at the way your eyes rolled back. You whimper when he squeezes his grip on your neck.

“To think that passion we saw in your eyes was hatred at first,” he smiles as if amused, watching every little reaction you gave him, every proof of love.

“I did,” you confess, pressing your ass against his hard length and making him groan, “I hated you.”

“You were sent to destroy us, love, but instead you reached into our souls and thought there was something worth saving,” he chuckled, nuzzling into you softly as if he wasn’t knuckle deep inside of you, feeling every part he knew so well. “And save us you did, it was so dark before you our little light, how could we ever let you leave?”

“You’re fucking with my head,” you whimper, head falling back to his chest, it rumbles when he laughs.

“Hmmm? I’m definitely fucking your brains out today Y/n,” he promises with a chuckle, kissing your temple again, but emphasising his point when he scissors his fingers reading you for his cock. “If that’s what you mean.”

This was your fault, you knew what you were getting into when you fell for them. You especially knew Namjoon was the worst of them all. You let his soft side brush away his true nature, and while you never forgot his ruthless persona, you put it to the back of your mind. You foolishly thought you had tamed his cunning cold cruel- 

“Oh fuck,” whatever train of thought you had died, the palm of his hand rubbing your clit, stimulating your already aching cunt to the edge. Your parted lips open wider to release a silent scream, his fingers stroking so deep.

You were so close, you could taste it, unable to control the delirious sounds escaping you. So when he stops and slips his fingers away from you, you have to stop yourself screaming in protest. 

“Up against the mirror Y/n,” he commands gruffly, but you don’t move, you were so fucking close. Fuck him, fucking asshole, you were so fucking close. 

He picks you up with ease, pushing you against the wall so your breath fogs the surface. You hear the zip pull down, your forehead falls forward, your core pulsing in anticipation. He grabs your leg, opening you for him, the head of his cock sliding across your folds until you're whining.

“Stop squirming love,” he warns, but you don’t listen, of course you don’t, so he makes you listen. 

The sound you release when he slaps your clit with his hard dick over and over has him questioning his restraint, fuck he wants to just pound into you but you needed to be taught a fucking lesson. 

“Joonie sensitive,” you whine, but he’s relentless, making you cry out over and over. Fuck you could actually maybe cum like this. 

His self control wavers, his jaw clenched with such a force he thinks it’ll shatter. He couldn’t take it anymore, the swell of his head finds your entrance. Inch by inch, he relishes the feeling of your walls hugging him so fucking tight, the pulse of them pulling him in. He leans over you, trying to regain composure but you feel so good he doesn’t want to move, he wants to stay like this forever, inside of you where he belongs. 

You try to push back into him, but he grabs your waist with one hand to keep you still, grinding his hips against you and he knows it’s not enough. 

“Look at you arching your back little love,” he smirks, “Your body knows where you belong, it’s a shame you tried to take it away from me.”

Your hands ball into fists on the mirror, you can’t even look at yourself right now, you can’t stop writhing on the surface, trying so hard to get him to move. You squeeze him hard, making his head fall against you with a grunt. 

“Behave little love,” he warns, “or I’ll show your colleagues just how well you can take me.”

“Make me,” you dare him even though it comes out as a mumble. 

You were dizzy and disorientated and all you wanted was for him to fucking move. He pushes you against the wall hard, every inch of him covering you so you couldn’t budge. You whine, the cold of the hard surface making you seek his warm body, you slot against him like a damn puzzle piece. He was hell bent on torturing you today, as if you hadn’t suffered enough. 

“Joonie move,” you almost sound like a brat, trying to order him around. 

“I’ll move when I’m ready,” he growls animalistically, barely holding himself back, but he needed to savour this.

You do everything you can to break his control, writhing against him like a bitch in heat. He swallows hard when you clench again. He spanks your ass hard in return, the air gets thicker, you find it harder to breathe. You keep still, the sting of your ass satisfying your craving for a moment, but not for long. 

He picks up your skirt, watching himself inside you, watching the beautiful mess you were making. So wet, so perfect, how did you ever think for a second he would ever let this go? The sight is too much, he releases a restrained groan, done with holding himself back. 

His hand grips your cheeks, turning your mouth to his, forcing his tongue down your throat as he finally pulls out only to push back in impossibly deeper. You took every punishing thrust, his presence surrounding you everywhere, even in front of you where his reflection painted the surface. He smothered you with his existence, the heat of him scolding, but you liked it, you craved it. 

“Do you think your ‘friend’ understands who you fucking belong to now detective L/n?” He chuckles deeply watching your fucked out face in the mirror.

He uses his grip under your knee to turn you towards the camera in the corner of the room.

“Think they can all see little love?” He pants. “How well you fucking take it? How good you are for me?”

You shake your head in protest but it feels too good. Your head falls back on him without the mirror to lean against. His fingers find your clit, his sole purpose to make you lose yourself to him. 

“Fuck look at you shaking baby,” he groans, feeling you pulse around him, drawing closer to the edge. “Your poor pussy just needs to come huh?”

You can hear the smirk in his tone, fucking self satisfied prick. 

“Not as badly as you need it,” you taunt back, feeling your defiance flare despite how your body was begging you to behave.. 

“Fuck you might be right,” he groans, going harder, faster. “I’m always going to need it.”

His confession takes you over, the words pushing you so hard you come apart violently, thrashing against him as you unravel, but he holds you tight. He doesn’t let you fall. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think, all you could feel was him and the burst of pleasure that carried on wave after wave, and you never wanted it to stop.

“This is mine,” he grunts as he comes undone inside of you, fucking his cum deeper until it got through to your soul. 

He was a part of you, and you could try to deny it now with his mistakes on the table, but he was so embedded in the fabric of you he couldn’t see where he began and where you ended. His entire existence was for you, it was only fair your cunt, body and soul belonged to him. Maybe the others too, as an afterthought, but you were his first.

He feels the mess slide out of you as he leaves your warmth, turning you softly so you could lean against him as you catch your breath. He holds you tight, arn arm around your middle like the steel of a bar. He has every intention of letting you recover but the way you look up at him with those glossy eyes confirms the fact he will never be satiated, he will always want more of you even if there was nothing left to give. 

“Our little love,” he breathes in your face, stealing a hard kiss, “our little downfall.”

His mouth held you prisoner again and again, humming pleasantly as you let him devour you in so many ways. His kiss was bruising, hungry, overindulging.

Your eyes search his as he parts reluctantly, your mind still hazy, the bliss of sex still circulating your body.

“Why did you lie to me?” You whisper breathlessly against his lips as you come down, and he can hear the vulnerability in your tone, it makes a guilt spread across his chest that feels almost alien. The way you could make him ache like no one else, he should cast you aside for introducing a weakness in him but he wouldn’t even dream of it.

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he confesses sincerely. “I didn’t want you to hate me.”

“I asked you not to hurt him,” your eyes tear up again, and he curses himself and the existence of Kim Suho.

“I know.”

“But you did it anyway,” you continue, “and then you had the gall to lie to my face.”

You wipe away the tears that fall harshly, your mind clearing. You push him away and fix yourself up, knowing from the glances in the mirror you were a mess.

“You always own up to your actions, right or wrong, you never hide them,” you laugh and you think you must sound psychotic. “The Kim Namjoon… I remember the days you would drop dead bodies in front of me without remorse, without ever feeling the need to explain yourself.”

“I was testing you then,” he grunts, remembering those days well. “I needed to know you had the stomach to be with us.”

“I hated you so much,” you confess, swallowing down a sob. “And for the first time since I fell in love with you Joonie, I can feel that hate grow again.”

His jaw clenches, his fist too. He could feel a threat on the tip of his lips, one where the Captain's head would end up on a plate in front of you for dinner but he holds himself back.

“You don’t mean that,” he says between gritted teeth.

“I had you fucking arrested Namjoon,” you argue back fiercely. “Don't tell me what I mean or don’t mean.”

“You also fucked me after the fact,” he states and the harsh words slap you hard. You did. You let him defile you here only moments ago.

“Old habits die hard.”

“Not with me love,” he dismisses the thought. “Not as long as I’m alive.”

“We’ll see,” you challenge, feeling that earlier conviction rise. 

“Understand something Y/n,” he says seriously, his face solemn and hard in a way you had witnessed rarely. This was Kim Namjoon with something to lose. “You can run, you can fight, you can hate me if you need to, but there isn’t a life worth living for us without you in it.”

He takes his seat back in the interrogation chair, putting his handcuffs back on with ease, all while keeping his eye contact with you. 

“You want me here, you want to punish me,” he continues, “fine, this where I’ll stay until you’re appeased, until you forgive me.”

“I won’t,” you deny, shaking your head. 

“You will.”

[antiquarianfics]

Can I?

a/n: this is so fuckin’ goofy and not proofed. enjoy!

warnings: n/a

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

You follow Sam and Bucky out of the police station after a godawful impromptu therapy session with Bucky’s therapist. Sam and Bucky are arguing while you stay silent, stuffing your hands in your jacket pockets while you follow. You’re zoning out, thinking about Bucky’s confession that he thinks Steve was wrong about him, when a siren pulls you out of your thoughts.

Sam and Bucky abruptly stop, and you accidentally run into Bucky’s back. Your boyfriend turns around and steadies you, shooting you an apologetic look. You shrug and turn to find John Walker and Lamar Hoskins leaning against a police vehicle.

You find the whole ordeal just as obnoxious as your partners, and are glad when Bucky essentially tells them to fuck off. But the back and forth only made you starkly aware of Walker’s entitlement. That was your main issue with him being Captain America. After all, one of the most notable traits of Steve’s that made him The Captain America was that he never felt that he deserved the title.

Sam informs Walker that the three of you—Avengers—have no interest in working as government operatives because you’re free agents. The three of you begin to walk away at that point.

“Then stay out of my way!” Walker yells after you.

You scoff as you fall into step next to Bucky, who wraps his arm around your shoulders and holding you close.

“Can I kill him?” You huff. “I want to kill him. Can I kill him?”

Sam shoots you a perplexed look while Bucky smirks in amusement.

“No,” Sam says, albeit with little conviction. His own annoyance at the forefront of his mind.

“Not in public,” Bucky says at the same time.

Sam shoots Bucky an irritated and exasperated look which causes him to backtrack.

“No, of course not, Doll,” he corrects.

You huff out a laugh at Bucky’s correction.

Quickly, the conversation shifts to the Flag Smashers and what to do. This is when Bucky suggests talking to Zemo. Sam and yourself immediately protest.

“Have you forgotten what he did to you?” Sam questions.

“I haven’t,” you mutter under your breath, but you’re certain Bucky hears it by the way he tenses and shifts uncomfortably next to you.

The conversation goes back and forth, but, ultimately, Bucky wins.

Unhappy about it, you look to Sam.

“Can I kill him?” You point to Bucky, who is still holding you.

“No!” Bucky protests.

“Not in public,” Sam laughs.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

ko-fi

[miryum]

"The Box"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy’s relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

“I'm Lex Luthor.” A man strode into the precinct and rapped a fist on Damian’s desk. He was wearing a crisp suit and his bald head had been shined. “Detective L/n asked me to drop by.”

Damian’s eyes flickered up to the man before going back to his origami knives. He had found a new tutorial on YouTube that promised sharper cuts. “Mm, yes. The CEO who murdered someone. Spoiler alert: they think you did it.” He flagged down another officer. “Duke, can you show him to interrogation room C, please?” He waved to Lex and snickered. “Have fun in there.”

“Thank you.” Luthor drew his lips into a thin line.

A couple minutes later, Captain Wayne stood by Y/n as they watched Lex Luthor behind a two-way mirror. “What are you smiling about?” he asked.

“How uncomfortable this guy is,” Y/n replied. “I jacked up the thermostat, got the table all sticky, made one of the chair legs too short, and worst of all, I had Damian greet him.”

“What did you have him do?”

“I told him to be himself.”

Wayne shook his head. “Poor son of a bitch.”

Y/n glanced at her capitan before asking, “Why are you wearing a tuxedo? You look like Fred Astaire.”

“I take that as a high compliment, but I’m not off to sing the number one song of 1935, Cheek to Cheek, which was top of the charts for fifteen weeks and the following year was nominated for the Best Song Academy Award to The Way You Look Tonight.”

Y/n stared at him until she muttered, “I’m not even surprised anymore.”

“Clark and I are attending the opera,” Wayne explained simply.

“Ooh, the opera. Is it the one Bugs Bunny sings?”

“Yes.” Wayne turned away from Y/n and asked, “So, who's this?”

“Lex Luthor,” Y/n said proudly. “We have a clear motive, clear means, a nonexistent alibi, but the DA won't bring a charge because it's all circumstantial. If we wanna bring this guy down, we have to get him to confess right here, right now.”

Wayne raised a brow. “An interrogation with a ticking clock and everything on the line? I better call Clark and tell him I won't be attending the opera.” He pulled out his phone and began dialling. “There's someone else I'd rather hear sing.”

“Oh, damn!” Y/n covered her mouth appreciatively.

“Hello, Clark. I won't be joining you at the opera tonight-”

“Oh, sorry,” Y/n shushed herself. “I didn't know-” 

Wayne cut her off, saying, “it's under my name, W-A-Y-N…”

Y/n squinted at him and finished her sentence, “you were on the phone already….”

Wayne poured over the case file which stated facts, showed pictures, and other minute details. “You're right.” Wayne nodded. “He did it. But we have no murder weapon, no witnesses, and you really didn't find any usable forensic evidence?” He was doubtful that his best detective found nothing.

“The body was discovered rotting in Ocean View. It'd been rained on for weeks and chewed up by coyotes,” Y/n explained. ”The only other DNA other than the victim’s was some bear semen found in the hair.”

“Right. Who found the body?”

“Hikers,” Y/n replied. ”You're really just gonna blow past the bear semen detail?”

“I imagine a bear mistook the rotting corpse for a female of its species and had intercourse with it.” He waved her away. “Nothing I haven't seen before.”

“It isn't?” Y/n stared at him, aghast. “I am fascinated by your life,” she whispered.

“Let's get in here.” Wayne cracked his knuckles. “Start working this guy.”

“Oh.” Y/n clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. “You're gonna come in with me? I just thought maybe you'd watch from out here, you know, pull me out when I'm getting a little too hot, possibly?” She waved her hands around. “Call me a loose cannon. You know, classic captain stuff.”

“L/n, do you know what I miss about being a detective?” He answered his own question, “a good interrogation.” He clapped a fist into his open palm. “Breaking suspects down.” He lowered his voice. “Talking quietly and then talking real loud! Looking away and then looking right in their eyes.” His eyes flared at Y/n and then he leaned casually on the desk. “Leaning.”

“That was amazing,” Y/n gaped.

“So, can I join you?” Wayne straightened his cufflinks.

“Well, a lot of these techniques do work better with two people: you know, good cop-bad cop, crazy cop-sane cop, chill cop-ADHD cop. Wanna be ADHD cop?”

Capitan Wayne deadpanned, “I think you have that covered.” He turned away and said, “let's do this!”

Y/n strode into the interrogation room where Lex stopped fidgeting with his uneven seat. “Hello, Luthor.”

Lex hummed and greeted, “detective.”

“This is Captain Bruce Wayne,” Y/n gestured to Wayne who was brooding in the corner like a vigilante watching over their city. “He's a bit of a legend in interrogation circles. Hey, Cap-i-tan, who's the scariest person you've ever gotten a confession out of?”

“Abner Krill,” Wayne said. “He was known as Polka-Dot Man.”

Y/n’s nose scrunched up. “Okay, I thought it was gonna sound a little cooler, but whatever.” She clapped her hands together and sat down across from Lex. “So, shall we recap the night that Axel Granite was murdered? Friday the twenty second? I believe you were the last person to see him alive, correct?”

“No.” Lex raised a brow. “I'd imagine whoever killed him saw him after I did.”

“Ooh, nice dodge,” Y/n complimented and  leaned back in her chair. Finally; a challenge. “Tell us about Friday.”

“I had a late afternoon meeting.” Lex matched her stance, leaning back as well. He seemed relaxed- one leg was propped on the other, hands were loosely clasped on his lap, and eyes smiling. “A simple board meeting. It wrapped up around six o’clock, and Axel and I talked after. He had just wrapped up his last appointment.”

“And why do you have a doctor on sight?” Y/n asked.

“In case of any emergencies,” Lex answered easily. “We also take blood samples for some of the experiments we conduct at LexCorp, so we need him handy.”

“And who else was in the office?”

“My secretary and driver had gone home, and Cheryl, who‘s usually one of the last to leave, left early because her niece had a school play,” he explained.

“So it was just you and Axel? No witnesses?” Y/n hummed. “That's lucky.”

He shook his head. “Not lucky at all. There was nothing to witness. Axel just wanted to talk about firing one of our employees, Gretchen.”

“And that's all you discussed?” Y/n clarified.

“Yeah.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nah.”

“Zero other subjects were mentioned?”

“None. We just talked about Gretchen.”

“Right.” Y/n squinted at him. “And, of course, there's no way for me to check if that's true, because whoever took Axel’s phone wiped all of his calendars. Except…” She flipped open her notepad and sucked a breath through her teeth. “It was all backed up on his home laptop. Would you like to hear what he said the meeting was about?” She cleared her throat and read aloud, “Seven P.M. talked with Lex about-" 

“Missing equipment,” Luthor finished. Once again, he mimicked Y/n and sucked in a breath. “Ooh. Did I get that right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Y/n closed her notebook and said, “But ‘missing equipment’ hardly sounds like ‘firing Gretchen.’ So maybe you want to explain…”

“He thought Gretchen was stealing lab equipment. That's why he wanted to fire her.” He inspected his nails. “Any other questions?”

Wayne suddenly started chuckling. Honestly, Y/n had forgotten that he was there. “Boy, you really thought you had him with that one, huh?”

“Well, I…” Y/n’s mouth dropped open.

“And you got so excited for it… Let me guess, you, ah, practised the notebook flip?” 

“Uh, Captain, something's come up in the case. Can I talk to you outside for a sec?” Y/n interrupted. Once they were outside, she cried, “What the hell are you doing in there? You totally undermined me.”

“I know, and I apologise.” Wayne held up a hand. “But I'm executing a strategy.”

“Oh, really, and what strategy might that be?” She placed her hands on her hips. “Make Y/n feel like an idiot?”

“No, I want Luthor to underestimate you and fear me. I'll badger him with my superior intellect, while simultaneously belittling you. Once Luthor dismisses you as a threat, I'll leave you alone with him, and he'll let his guard down.”

Y/n glared at him and mumbled, “ If I didn't know any better, I would say you're describing smart cop-dumb cop.”

“Look, I thought you had him on the calendar reveal,” Wayne conceded. “But he was a step ahead. You got flustered, and I realised in the moment we could use this to our advantage.”

“So what do you want me to do, ask stupid questions?” Y/n shrugged dramatically.

“Stupid questions, grammatical errors, lose your train of thought, just ask him to confess.” Wayne listed on his fingers. “This is not a comment on you, L/n. You’re a brilliant detective. I only want to bring this guy down.”

“Yeah, that's all I want too.”

“So, the night of the murder, you met with Robert in his doctor's office,” Y/n reiterated. “Why there? Why not your office which is much better suited for business meetings?”

“He was preparing for the next day's appointments. By taking the meeting in his office, we saved time. And time is money.” He mimicked tapping a watch.

“Right, and did…” Y/n trailed off. “Nevermind. I forgot what I was saying. Come back to me.”

Wayne swept in easily, “now, we did a sweep of the room where you and Axel fought-”

“Talked,” Lex corrected.

“Right. ‘Talked.’ The entire room had been scrubbed. It had undergone industrial sterilisation to remove all traces of blood and DNA.” Wayne crossed his arms.

“It's a doctor’s office,” Lex reminded them. “Blood draws happen every day. Per law, we have to sanitise it.”

“Ooh!” Y/n butt in. “I remembered what I was gonna ask. Did you kill him?”

“No,” Lex answered calmly.

Wayne redirected the conversation back on track. “So, after you and Robert fought-”

“Talked.”

“You left the office, but you didn't take your car?” Wayne asked.

“I went to a bar, The Scotchman,” Lex said. “I didn't want to drive drunk, so I took a cab. You know, like a responsible person.”

“And you didn't have your phone?” Clearly, Wayne didn’t believe this story.

“I left it charging in my office and I didn't realise till I was already out of the building,” Lex offered easily.

“Oh, man, if I go ten minutes without looking at my phone, my pumpkin crop dies on my little farm.” Y/n shook her head sadly.

“This is not the time for stories about your digital squash, L/n,” Wayne said sharply.

“What does it matter that I forgot my phone?” Luthor completely disregarded Y/n’s comments. A look of realisation dawned on his face and he chuckled, “I had it on me, you could've seen it pinging off the cell tower.”

“So you took a cab to this bar,” Wayne narrated. “However, we talked to the employees of The Scotchman. Nobody saw you there.”

“Nobody remembers seeing me,” Luthor pointed out. “It's not surprising nobody remembers seeing me. The bar was extremely crowded that night and I spent my whole time in the corner talking to this woman, Helen.”

Wayne hummed. “Oh, so you say. But when we ran all the credit card receipts, nobody named Helen bought any drinks that night.”

Lex chuckled and held up a hand. “Trust me, Helen wasn't buying her own drinks.”

Suddenly, Wayne’s phone rang and he said, “I need to deal with this. Let's take a five.”

“Or…” Y/n suggested slowly, “I could keep this interview going solo.”

“Yes,” Captain Wayne said after a moment. Luthor regarded their interaction closely. “I'm sure that'll be, um… pretty helpful.”

Once Wayne had left the interrogation room, Y/n sat herself down at the table and smiled broadly. “I have some questions,” she said brightly. “What kind of car did Robert drive?” She flipped open her notebook and suddenly rattled off, “also, what colour was Helen’s hair, which night does the cleaning crew sterilise your office, have you ever been to where the body was found, when you left your phone at the office was it plugged into your computer or an outlet, did you kill him, and what did your cab driver look like?”

Lex rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “This is a huge waste of time. But, here you go: Robert drove a Saab, Helen’s hair was brown, they sterilise on Wednesdays and Saturdays, I haven't been to Ocean View in twenty years, the phone was plugged into the wall, I did not kill him, and the cab driver had a beard and an earring… I'm sorry I didn't get his licence number.”

Y/n clicked her tongue and smirked. “Wow. Very impressive. You didn't even fall for my ‘did you kill him’ gambit.”

“Nope,” Lex grinned.

“Although,” Y/n tapped her chin. “It is interesting that you knew the body was found in Ocean View, New Jersey, when that information hasn't been released to the public yet.” When Luthor’s gaze flickered to her, Y/n muttered, “Got ya.” She laughed and said, “I can't believe you thought I was the dumb cop. I mean, Tim made me watch Planet Earth with the British narrator. I can tell you anything you want to know about three-toed slow-ths,” she said in a farcical manner. “I totally got you to say where the body was found, which kinda seems like something only the murderer would know.”

“Actually,” Luthor’ jaw twitched and he sat back. “Axel’s wife told me. I've been comforting her a lot lately. To help her through the pain.”

Y/n growled, “we asked her not to share that info, and she promised us she didn't.”

“Well, she's been distraught,” Lex said. “She might not remember.”

“Flimsy.” Y/n rolled her eyes. “So what did you mean when you said you hadn't been to Ocean View in twenty years?”

“My uncle has a cabin there. I would visit him as a kid.”

“So your uncle owns a cabin in the town where the bear-semened body was found. That is quite a coincidence,” Y/n commented.

“I haven't been there for twenty years. You can call my uncle if you want,” Lex waved his hand.

“Oh, we are.” Y/n nodded reassuringly. “So you might as well just confess now, or we can take our sweet time like the mer-jestic slow-th.” Her British accent came out once again. “Either way, we've got you.”

“We don't have him,” Y/n sighed behind the two-way glass. 

“Luthor’s uncle said he hasn't been to the cabin in months and he hasn't spoken to Luthor in over a year,” Wayne said, tapping on his phone.

“What about the neighbours?” Y/n asked.

“There's only one other house on that road and we haven't been able to contact the owner.”

Y/n poked her tongue in her cheek. “Yeah, but Lex doesn't know that. If we tell him the neighbour saw him that night, he'll crack for sure.”

Wayne glared at her. “You want us to lie?”

“No,” Y/n sassed. “I want me to lie and you to stand behind me and say, three ‘oh damns’ when I defeat him.”

“There will be no ‘oh damns.’” Wayne said, “we're not lying.”

“The Supreme Court said that we're allowed to lie in an interrogation,” Y/n argued. “Couple of days ago I told a perp I knew Selena Gomez. It had absolutely nothing to do with the case, but I can say it.”

Wayne shook his head. “What if Luthor never went to the cabin? Suppose you're wrong. Then Luthor knows we have nothing. There goes our credibility and our leverage.” He scratched his nose. “No, we need a different strategy. Admittedly, all this dental talk has given me an idea.”

Y/n barged into the room and announced, “We have a few more questions for you, genius.”

Wayne snickered. “Genius.” Luthor slowly turned to look at him. “It's funny when people call businessmen ‘geniuses.’ Especially male CEO’s.”

“I had to build my company from the ground up,” Lex said.

“That doesn’t make you a genius,” Wayne retorted.

“I have an IQ of two hundred twenty four.” Luthor smirked. “Does that qualify?”

Wayne’s jaw ticked. “Have you made any notable contributions to science? Have you discovered a new element? Building up a business hardly qualifies you.”

“My company has contributed to many scientific endeavours, thank you very much.” Luthor’s voice was tense and Y/n’s eyes flickered between the two men. 

“But were you the one actually experimenting?” Wayne pounded a fist on the table and it rattled. “We live in a society where CEOs take credit for the things-” A few moments later, Wayne was sitting in the viewing room and saying, “Apparently that’s a trigger for me.” His cufflinks were undone and his tie was loosened.

“Yeah, apparently.” Y/n handed him a glass of water. “So… now can we lie?”

“No. But you know what works? Making him confront his victim.”

“Look your dead friend in the eyes and say his name,” Y/n demanded, holding up a picture of Axel Granite.

Luthor looked at the picture. “Axel.”

“Okay, maybe say his full name,” Y/n suggested.

“Axel Granite.”

“His middle name's Holt.”

“Axel Holt Granite.”

“His wife called him Axe. Work that in.”

“Axe Granite.”

“Work it into the full name.”

“Axel ‘Axe’ Holt Granite.”

“Now say it with a frown on your face.”

“Axel ‘Axe’ Holt Granite.”

“Don’t blink so tears come to your eyes.”

“Axel ‘Axe’ Holt Granite.”

“Man, this guy is a good murderer!” Y/n cried once she and Wayne were back behind the two-way glass.

“There's got to be some way to break him.” Wayne rubbed at his temples.

Y/n’s eyes lit up. “Wait a minute. I just had an idea.”

Y/n held a guitar and chanted, “two, three, four!” She strummed the guitar haphazardly and started screaming loudly. 

“Yeah, I really gotta stop trying that.” In the viewing room, Y/n set the guitar aside, huffing out a breath. “It never works.”

“Tell us more about your relationship with Axel.”

Lex exhaled. “We've been over this a thousand times,” he said. “We got along well. I mean, we disagreed sometimes, but we had a good partnership.” Luthor smirked and muttered, “he never, for instance, skipped a party so he could micromanage me as I tried to do my job. That's what's happening here, right?” He pointed towards the two officers. “That's why you're wearing the tuxedo?”

“I skipped the opera, not a party,” Bruce said. ”It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, it's the Bugs Bunny one!” Y/n piped up.

“And I'm not here to micromanage anyone,” Wayne frowned. “I'm here because I enjoy interrogating scum.”

“You don't think the fact that he skipped the opera has anything to do with him not believing in you?” Lex asked slowly.

“He believes in me!” Y/n defended before pointing an accusing finger at the CEO. “You're not interrogating us. We're interrogating you. Tell us about the missing equipment! If Gretchen didn't take it, then who did? Because we're pretty sure it was you. Honestly, it could have been any of your employees. They all have access to the storage room.”

“You know, it's silly, but, uh…” Luther glanced up at them knowingly. “I trust the people who work for me.”

“Captain Wayne is only here because I want him here,” Y/n said.

“Really?” He pointed at Y/n. “So you're in charge? And all these strategies have been your ideas?”

Y/n stuttered and then said after a moment, “the guitar thing was mine.”

“And you signed off on that?” He then pointed at Wayne.

When Bruce didn’t say anything, Y/n turned towards him and scoffed, “seriously?”

“I just feel bad for you,” Luther shook his head. “Your boss thinks you're an idiot; that can't feel good.”

“Alright, listen,” Y/n snarled. “You son of a bitch, you think you're smarter than us? You think you've gotten away with it? You haven't.” She wagged her finger. “Imma find something. One skin cell, one eyelash, one tiny inconsistency in your story, and you're gonna spend the rest of your life in prison. Everyone who loves you will leave, and you will die alone! And at that time, it will be your head that a bear has sex with!” A few moments later, Y/n was sitting in the viewing room and saying, “Apparently that’s a trigger for me.” Her sleeves were rolled up and she tugged at her collar.

“Yeah, apparently.” Wayne handed her a glass of water. 

“He just gets us so riled up!” Y/n complained. She furrowed her brows and stared at nothing for a minute before murmuring, “I got it. I got it!”

“He's not answering any questions,” Luther’s lawyer, who had just joined him, said firmly as Y/n burst into the room.

“That's okay.” Y/n grinned. “I have no questions. That's right. I'm about to monologue, son!” She snapped her fingers theatrically.

“You better make it quick,” the lawyer said. “You have eight minutes until I file a harassment claim.”

“Alright, let me paint you a picture.” Wayne strode into the room and stood in the corner, arms crossed, listening to Y/n. “Lex Luthor, CEO of LexCorp, has been stealing equipment from his own labs.”

“Why would I steal from my own labs?” Luthor asked incredulously.

“What’s the point of this?” His lawyer demanded.

”I'll get there,” Y/n held a finger up. “One day, I'm working late when my colleague, Axel Granite, surprised me. He found out I was stealing equipment and said he's gonna file a police report. My reputation could be ruined. We fight, and something in me just snaps, so I grab the first thing I can find and I hit him with it.”

“You still have no murder weapon,” the lawyer reminded her.

“I do now.” Y/n slammed a picture down on the table. “I found a picture on Yelp of the doctor’s office six months ago, and here is a shot that our crime scene photographer took of the same room two weeks after the murder.” She slammed down another photo. “Notice any differences?” she asked.

“We're not answering that,” the lawyer said.

“That's all right, I can just tell you myself.” Y/n shrugged before continuing, “the Yelp picture has six of these glass awards in the background, whereas this shot only has five. What happened to number six?” Y/n asked rhetorically. “Murdered Axel with it!”

“I didn't,” Lex glared.

“You lost all control and you bludgeoned him to death,” Y/n, true to her word, kept monologuing. “There must have been blood everywhere, but you got lucky. You never would have gotten away with it in your carpeted office!”

“That's not what happened.” Luthor’s hands curled into fists.

“Don't say anything, Lex,” his lawyer reminded him.

“And Cheryl would’ve heard all of the screaming but she was at her niece's play. Lucky again.”

“You're wrong.”

“You put Axel’s body onto a dolly and shoved it in the elevator. It's a miracle there wasn't blood everywhere.”

“That's not true!” Luther insisted.

“Now you're in the garage with a corpse. You panicked and left your phone in your office and you don't have your car keys, but Axel’s are in his pocket so you put him in his car and take off.”

“No.”

“You simply can't believe what you've done.” She fans her face dramatically. 

“No.”

“Luthor,” his lawyer placed a hand on his forearm.

“You're flustered,” Y/n placed a hand on her forehead, faux swooning. “You have no GPS, so you just start driving.”

“No!” Lex pounded the table.

“Lex! Stop!” his lawyer cried.

“Next thing you know, you're in Ocean Views, and it hits you: your uncle's cabin! He has a place there. You're the luckiest son of a bitch ever.”

“It wasn't luck!” Luthor shouted and Y/n’s jaw twitched.

“Yes, it was,” she laughed. “You got lucky at every turn!”

“No!” Luthor fumed, slowly rising from his seat. ”I knew exactly where I was driving, I left my phone in the office on purpose, I was in the doctor’s office by design, and I didn't use some glass award that any idiot would clearly see was missing. In fact, a cleaner had broken it a week before!” He leaned forward on his fists, rings shining fully in the dim light. “I made a rod out of lab glass, killed him with it, then melted it back down. It's already another test tube, son!” His face morphed into one of shock and he fell back into his seat. His lawyer’s eyes widened before rubbing him sympathetically on the back.

Wayne’s mouth dropped open and he mumbled, “oh, damn.” In a louder voice he repeated, “oh, damn.” Shocked, the police captain cried out, “oh, damn!”

Y/n spun her finger in the air victoriously. “And that is three oh damns!” she shouted out. In a whisper, she said, “I feel so cool right now. Like I’m in a fanfic.”

[tainsan]

misfits VIII

⇥ pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

⇥ warnings: verbal and physical abuse, anxiety, mentions of death, mentions of blood

⇥ word count: 11.1k

⇥ a/n: in this chapter it may be very triggering to those who have gone through abusive situations, please read with care. this chapter is very angsty.

⇢ masterlist ⇠

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--- THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ---

“Wait backtrack, you have known them for years?” Jisung questions, extremely confused by the story you are telling him. Jisung's touch on your back provides a faint sense of comfort amidst the storm of emotions that engulfs you. His hand moves in a soothing rhythm, gliding up and down your trembling spine. The sobs that wrack your body become a symphony of sorrow, echoing through the air, and intertwining with Jisung's soft touch. With each tremor that courses through you, he maintains a steady presence, a steady anchor in the midst of your emotional storm. His touch speaks volumes, conveying a depth of understanding and empathy that words could never fully capture.

Sniffling, you answer, “Yes, they were that group I was with in high school, the ones who I got friendly with just before my mom died,” you explain, best you can with tears falling down your face and your voice shaking in your throat.

“Huh? You said they died?” Jisung asks, confused by the sudden confession from you, your words not making sense in his head that the eight you used to love were alive.

“I knew it wasn’t true.” 

“But if the police said they died, then surely it would be true?” 

“I never heard it from the police, I heard it from a guy who claimed to be a family member of ‘captain’. Who is apparently Hongjoong, I guess? It never made any sense, there was no proof, only this stranger’s word.”

“That makes more sense,” Jisung admits, nodding at the information before he realises something, “that’s likely why they changed their name from KQ Fellaz and ‘faked’ their death, so they could have a fresh start.”

“I suppose so, they wanted to start anew,” you conclude, trying to find any excuse or reason for them to have lied to you.

“That’s probably why they didn't tell you then.” Jisung raises his hand to rest on your head, patting it gently in an attempt to comfort you, yet all it does is remind you of all the times Wooyoung or San would do it to you, making your eyes sting even more than before.

“But why would they hide from me? I was their friend, they said I was one of them. How could they lie to me?” 

“I am sure they had their reasons. You likely weren’t that close to them back then.” 

As your gaze meets Jisung's, a profound realisation settles within you. In order for him to truly grasp the gravity of the situation and provide the support you need; you understand that it is necessary to lay bare the entirety of your journey. With a resolute breath, you begin recounting everything, from the very first moment you crossed paths with them to the heart-wrenching instant when they departed from your life. Every memory, every cherished moment, to the painful goodbye.

It all began in the middle of your Senior year in high school.

-

“Okay, class please pay attention we have a new student.” Your homeroom teacher announces, yet you pay zero interest to the familiar lady talking at the front of the classroom, simply continuing to draw in the sketch book you brought from home. 

Immersed in the classroom setting, you find peace and concentration with a single wired headphone nestled in your ear. As the sounds of commotion and chatter from your surroundings gradually fade away, your attention becomes laser-focused on the small details of your immediate environment. The rhythmic strokes of your pencil on paper create a soothing melody, harmonising with the gentle hum of music seeping into your left ear, creating a personalised soundtrack to your inner world.

Positioned near the back of the classroom, you find yourself beside an open window, inviting the outside world to merge with you. The autumn breeze delicately sweeps through the window, gracefully brushing against your skin and delicately tousling your hair. The serene atmosphere in the air instils a deep sense of tranquillity, infusing your being with an irrefutable sense of ease and contentment.

Momentarily shifting your gaze outside, you are captivated by the sight before you. The warm wind, with its tender touch, continues to playfully tickle your face as if inviting you to fully embrace the present moment. Inhaling deeply, you fill your lungs with the crisp and refreshing scent of fall, a refreshing reminder of the beauty and change that accompanies this season. 

“Could I sit here, please?” a soft voice speaks out from your right, if you were even an inch to the left, you would have not heard the boy, who seems to be looking at the chair on which your bag resides. Locking your gaze upon the boy standing before you, a flicker of realisation dawns upon you, and you mentally berate yourself for your sluggishness in comprehending his inquiry. A rush of frustration washes over you as you silently curse your own slowness, your mind now grasping the meaning behind his words. With a mere nod, you hastily seize the bag lying on the nearby surface and hastily tuck it away beneath your own chair, your movements reflecting your urgency. Turning your attention back to your sketchbook, you purposefully avoid glancing at the boy who wordlessly settles into the seat beside you.

Despite the absence of spoken words, you sense an adamant intensity radiating from the boy to your left. Internally, you let out a groan, fully aware that you must address this unfamiliar stranger and request that he mind his business. Tentatively, you direct your gaze towards him, annoyed you have to speak despite, yet before you can utter a single syllable, you are captivated by the sight that unfolds before you.

The boy's face beams with an adorable smile that engulfs his entire face, rendering you momentarily speechless. This unexpected display of pure charm effectively silences your intended retort, leaving your lips tightly sealed.

“I like your drawing.” His voice is incredibly soft and serene, yet the smile on his face speaks thousands of more words. The boy's unexpected compliment catches you off guard, causing a rush of warmth to surge through your cheeks, the telltale sign of an invading blush spreading down your neck. Your expression betrays a mixture of bewilderment and surprise, as you struggle to process this unfamiliar gesture of kindness. In that brief moment, you find yourself momentarily taken aback, incredulous that such a genuinely kind individual exists within the confines of this school.

Observing the boy attentively, you notice a complete lack of any hint of teasing or mockery behind his eyes, further deepening your astonishment. A flicker of uncertainty twinkles within you as you realise that he is carefully examining the paper before you, his gaze fixated on the meticulously crafted sketch of the mesmerising person you encountered during your morning journey to the classroom. A momentary sense of insecurity flits through your mind, as you worry that he will spot every small detail and flaw etched within the artwork. Left momentarily speechless, you can only offer another nod in response, silently conveying your gratitude without the need for words. Exhaustion from the past few days weighs heavily upon you, especially the funeral, leaves you unable to form words. You aren’t sure if it’s from the grief or the exhaustion. 

Returning your focus to the sanctuary of your sketchbook, you resume the gentle strokes of your pencil upon the textured paper, desperately trying to capture and preserve the exact essence of the enigmatic person you encountered earlier. Each deliberate movement of your hand serves as an attempt to etch their features into your memory, ensuring that no captivating detail eludes your artistic rendition.

“I’m, uh… Hwa, by the way, it’s nice to meet you.” The boy called ‘Hwa’ speaks out, his voice is still quiet and you’re somewhat glad that he’s so soft-spoken, not wanting to deal with loud and obnoxious people right now. Once more, your eyes drift towards the right, where the boy sits with an endearing smile that effortlessly melts a fragment of your heart. Despite the warmth elicited by his expression, you find yourself limited to another nod as your sole means of communication. This time, your gesture conveys a silent acknowledgement, silently reciprocating his unspoken sentiment of "nice to meet you too." Without delay, you pivot back to your artwork, realising that this marks the third time you have redirected your attention in the span of a mere five minutes.

Hwa, perceptive in nature, detects your unwillingness to engage in conversation and graciously accepts your silent response. His smile remains untouched as he shifts his focus towards the front of the classroom, where your teacher begins recounting events from your weekend. While he respects your preference for silence, a sense of curiosity lingers within him, compelling him to wonder why someone as captivatingly beautiful as you would choose to remain in the shadows of social isolation.

From that crucial moment onward, it became apparent that Hwa had undertaken some sort of personal mission to forge a friendship with you. Each morning, he would approach you, eager to share anecdotes about his day, all about his close circle of seven friends, and his positive experiences in the new school. Puzzled by his unwavering interest in your life, you couldn't fathom why he found you intriguing, and it began to grate on your nerves. Despite your initial annoyance, you gradually learned that he had recently relocated from his father's home and was now residing with his mother, who he seems to prefer much more than his old man. He would go on and on about how his father was a horrible man, someone who he is very glad to not have in his life. From this information, you find yourself relating to Hwa and you almost feel grateful for his honesty and for the way he trusts you to relay this information. 

As days turned into weeks, then months, Hwa's relentless efforts to elicit conversation and draw you out of your shell continued persistently. Initially, his persistence irritated you, but over time, his endearing gestures and genuinely kind manner began to chip away at your defences. Though your interactions remained devoid of spoken words, you found yourself gradually warming up to him, unable to resist the charm of his sweet antics. Each day, you maintained your steadfast silence, wordlessly lending an ear to his stories and offering the occasional nod to assure him of your attentive presence.

Hwa, driven by an unquenchable desire to hear your voice and witness your active participation in conversations, incessantly peppered you with questions. He longed for the day when your voice would join him in harmonious dialogue, surpassing the limitations of mere nods and smiles.

On a particular day, the sun begins its descent towards the horizon as you make your way home from school, the hour growing later than usual. A detour had become necessary as you sought out one of your teachers, embarking on a conversation regarding an assignment that you had fallen behind on. This particular instructor, well-informed about your personal home situation, swiftly understood the situation and granted you some much-needed leeway, even extending the offer of utilising an empty classroom for writing, while she occupied herself with grading tests. This teacher you trusted fully, her being the only person you speak with verbally. She understands why you are fewer with your words, not prying you ever.  Grateful for the understanding and opportunity, you had seized the chance to make much-needed progress on your assignment.

As you traverse the familiar path home, the ambient noise of your surroundings blends with the music resonating through your headphones, enveloping you in a cocoon of sound. Engrossed in your auditory world, a distant voice manages to penetrate the barrier, capturing your attention. Swiftly turning your head, you catch sight of Hwa, jogging towards you with an infectious smile illuminating his face. The sun, in its gradual inclination, casts a warm glow upon his features, accentuating his sincere enthusiasm as he closes the distance between you. 

“___.” He yells, excited to see you outside of school. When he reaches you, he is panting slightly and you realise he must have sprinted pretty far to catch up with you. Giving him a confused look, you wonder why he is near this area, never have seen him come this way before. Luckily, after months, Hwa has become accustomed to your familiar actions and wordless antics, being able to recognise what your different movements and expressions indicate. Your feelings for the man have developed immensely and you find yourself becoming extremely fond of the guy. Plus, it doesn’t help that the more you get to know him, the more you realise how handsome he is. 

“What are you doing here?” Hwa questions, walking next to you as you continue to head towards your house. 

“Going home.” You mutter your voice nothing above a whisper, you are shocked yourself by the words coming out of your mouth. You suddenly wonder why it is that you can suddenly speak freely around Hwa. 

Immediately, Hwa’s eyes open hugely upon hearing you talk for the first time, he stops walking next to you, his mouth hanging wide open widely. Looking back at him, you giggle at his dramatic reaction, before speaking again.

“What?’’ You say, your body turning fully towards him, walking backwards, and scanning over his every reaction.

Quickly, the male bounds towards you, the smile resuming as he makes his way to you, almost jumping up and down with excitement.

“So, what did I do to deserve the ___ to finally speak to me,” Hwa asks, his voice giddy as he skips next to you. 

“I don’t know, I feel safe around you...” You admit, trailing off and becoming slightly insecure about the way your voice sounds. Hwa seems to notice the turmoil of thoughts running through your head and instantly pauses your walking by grabbing your hand lightly, pulling you to look up at his warm eyes.

“You have a nice voice, please keep on speaking.” His voice is soft and peaceful, like usual, but at this moment, it sounds like music to your ears. Feeling your cheeks getting warm, you turn to look away, continuing your walk home. The both of you turn back to moving forwards and you realise you didn’t reciprocate the question Hwa had asked.

“Why are you here?” You ask, curious as to why Hwa would be in this area, never having seen him before around here.

“Ah, I’m seeing my friends, we are meeting at that abandoned warehouse just around the corner from here. Don’t tell anyone, it’s our secret hideout.” The male explains a small chuckle leaving his throat as he turns to you to put out his pinkie finger. Confused, you look up at him, wondering why he is pointing his pinkie finger at you.

“Pinkie promise that you won’t tell anyone.” For a moment he looks incredibly serious, and you wonder as to why he is so stern about the hideout of his friends. It makes you feel soft that here, an eighteen-year-old boy is so seriously making you pinkie promise something. The innocence of the action has you smiling widely, your heart melting.

“Okay, okay.” You reluctantly say, linking your pinkie with his, the both of you letting out gentle laughs. It is quiet for a while as the two of you continue on your way to your separate destinations when Hwa suddenly asks you a question.

“Would you perhaps like to come with me?” The tall male asks, hoping to spend some time with you outside of school, especially since now you are finally fully conversing with him.

Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you worry as to what would happen if you don’t show up on time home, worrying as to how your father would react. However, you realise tonight he should be out with some of his friends, drinking and knowing he will be out until the early hours of the morning. Today, it seems as if luck is in your favour. Not having any friends, it seems somewhat beautiful that Hwa invited you along to hang out with his friend group. From what you have heard from him, the group is very close and doesn’t usually spend time with outsiders. Yet at the same time, you have heard about how kind and fun they are, which makes it extremely easy to decide.

“I’d love that.” 

So, you met the rest of the boys, and it was almost alien how quickly you hit it off with all of them.

“So, you must be the pretty girl who never speaks.” A cute boy with light purple hair speaks out and you suddenly feel extremely self-conscious as you realise Hwa has talked about you to his friends, even calling you pretty. Feeling your body start to get hot, Hwa places a hand on your shoulder in an effort to let you know that it’s okay and his friend is just teasing. 

A jolt of surprise courses through you as your eyes land on a face that feels oddly familiar, instantly triggering a spark of recognition. It dawns on you that this is the very same male figure you had been sketching on the day you first encountered Hwa. A wave of embarrassment washes over you as the realisation hits home, leaving you acutely aware that Hwa must have noticed you discreetly capturing his friend's portrait. Yet, to your immense relief, Hwa remains tight-lipped about the situation, his mischievous wink the only acknowledgement he offers in response to your stunned expression upon seeing the familiar face.

As you meet each friend individually, a remarkable sense of astonishment washes over you when you realise how effortlessly you connect with the boys. It's as if you're engaging in conversations with Hwa himself, the connection and company flowing naturally between you. Overwhelmed by the sheer number of new acquaintances, you find comfort in only observing their banter, occasionally opting for quiet observation rather than actively participating in the verbal exchange. 

Watching them interact and revel in their shared friendship fills you with inexplicable joy, for it is a feeling you had longed for—an authentic sense of belonging among friends. The ease with which you seamlessly fit into their circle surprises you, and it's not ignored by boys either, they immediately grow fond of you. They sense the immediate connection, as if destiny had intended for you to be a part of their lives all along. 

This remarkable harmony that you effortlessly slot into makes it a natural progression for the boys to invite you to join them in their hangouts. The invitation comes easily as if it were given that you should be included, reinforcing the notion that you have found a place among them—a group of friends who accept and appreciate you just as you are.

There is a pure glow from each of them, yet you notice the blank, pained expressions and feelings on their faces, and it feels as if you are looking in the mirror and it is as if they can understand and relate deeply to who you are without needing to utter a single word.

Many days after this you find yourself spending more and more time with the group, finding yourself loving each of them the way you have grown to love Hwa. Turning up the music and dancing was your favourite part of your hangouts, watching as they all chanted to songs and moved to the beat. It made you feel some sense of belonging, something you haven’t felt in a very long time. Writing and singing to songs was one of the very things you loved most about the hang outs, every time they start a verse having to say the words “fix on”, or finishing it with “passion, young, fever”. The very words starting to feel as if they are engraved in your mind. 

One peculiar aspect that strikes you is the fact that none of the boys have ever shared their actual names with you. Instead, they refer to each other solely by their unique and endearing nicknames. Yet, strangely enough, this detail doesn't bother you in the slightest. The absence of birth names becomes inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. What truly matters is the profound contentment you feel, having finally discovered a group of individuals with whom you can fully be yourself with. 

In their presence, you experience a rare sense of comfort, as if you've known them for a lifetime. Walls crumble, masks fade away, and you can simply exist as your authentic self. The love and acceptance that enters the air create a seemingly unbreakable bond. The absence of formal introductions and conventional names becomes a trivial detail, dwarfed by the depth of connection and genuine affection that binds you together. As your relationships with each of the boys deepened, an unexpected shift occurred within your heart, surpassing the boundaries of familial affection, and evolving into a profound form of liking. You were well aware of the impropriety of harbouring such feelings for all eight of them, understanding that it was highly unlikely any of them reciprocated those same emotions. Yet, you couldn't help but acknowledge that your heart seemed to act independently, beyond the constraints of reason.

What made matters even more complex was the knowledge that two of the boys were nursing shattered hearts, their pain etched deeply upon their souls due to a girl you had never met and who, in all likelihood, you had no chance against. The stories that circulated among the group painted a picture of a messy and agonising heartbreak that had left them both broken in its wake. Despite the overwhelming depth of your feelings for them, you made a conscious decision to suppress your own desires, opting instead to provide solace and support as they navigated their heartache. Every time you witnessed their tears, mourning over the faceless girl who had captivated their hearts, an ache resonated within your own chest. It was an ache born from unrequited emotions, an emotional reminder of the distance that separated you from the love they sought. Nonetheless, you steeled yourself, pushing those yearnings aside, focusing on being the shoulder to lean on, the one who offered unwavering support and understanding during their darkest hours. It was a choice fuelled by selflessness and a desire to ease their suffering, even if it meant struggling with your own unspoken longing.

-

The warehouse was an unusual sanctuary for you, a place of solitude amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life. With its towering shelves of empty boxes and the faint scent of cardboard, rust and moss, it offered a kind of comfort you couldn't find elsewhere. It was where you escaped to when you needed a break from the world.

Today, you arrived early, finishing school ahead of schedule due to a teacher falling ill. Alone in the vast expanse of the warehouse, you found peace in the quiet, engrossed in the pages of a book. The soft rustling of paper and the distant hum of the outside world being the only noise surrounding you. 

As you turned another page, lost in the world of words, a sudden, screeching noise sliced through the calm. Startled, you look up just in time to see the massive metal door at the far end of the warehouse creaking open, a thin beam of sunlight piercing the dim interior.

The sudden blast of light makes you squint, shielding your eyes with one hand as you try to discern who or what had interrupted your solitude. Your heart raced slightly, a mix of curiosity and caution welling within you. The warehouse wasn't a frequented place, and the unexpected visitor had piqued your interest.

Slowly, you closed your book and set it aside, rising from your makeshift reading spot. As your eyes adjusted to the newfound brightness, you made out the silhouette of a person framed by the open door.

Recognition washed over you like a gentle wave, replacing your initial unease with a sense of relief and surprise. The person at the door was someone you hadn't expected to see in this unlikely place.

“Oh sorry ___, I wasn’t expecting you to be here.” Yeo’s voice reaches your ears and you see his cute face pop around the corner as your eyes get used to the sudden flash. 

“Tiny is here?” The man you know as Woo follows behind Yeo with a wide smile on his face. 

“What are you doing here so early?” He jumps up to you and lays on the couch, nuzzling his head onto your lap, the action sending a rush of butterflies into your body. 

“I finished early, sorry for not letting you guys know I was coming.” You apologise, feeling bashful for intruding in their personal space without their knowledge. 

“It’s okay, you are always welcome here.” Yeo smiles as he says quietly and makes his way over to you and Woo on the couch.

Smiling back at him, you observe as he pushes Woo’s legs to the side before sitting at the other end of the couch. 

“So what are you doing here?” Woo asked from underneath you. 

“Oh I just needed some peace to read my book, this is the only place I actually feel calm.” 

“I also have that.” Yeo exclaims, a bigger smile on his face, “when we are here it feels like the outside world doesn’t even matter.” 

“Exactly.” You smile at him, his relatable statement causing your chest to swell for some odd reason.

“I’m going to sleep, school was far too much today.” Woo's announcement about his exhaustion draws a soft giggle from you, a gentle sound that fills the room with a sense of warmth. He snuggles further into your lap, seeking comfort after a long day. His actions create an intimate moment that's both endearing and heartwarming.

The soft giggle that escapes your throat is like music to the ears of the two men beside you.

“Where do you guys go to school? I’ve never seen you at mine.” 

“Oh we go to the one just around the corner, only Hwa goes to your school.”

“I see.”

Gazing down at Woo nestled in your lap, a fond smile graces your lips. Your feelings for him have also grown deep, and his flirtatious nature has become both endearing and exhilarating, adding a touch of excitement to your interactions. His playful personality has woven a unique bond between you, one that's filled with affection and a sense of familiarity.

With a tender touch, you reach out to brush a stray strand of hair from Woo's face, your fingers gentle and caring. The small gesture elicits a soft grin from him, a silent acknowledgment that your action made him feel delighted.

Turning your attention to Yeo, you find yourself captivated by the subtle details that make him unique. His gaze, focused on the two of you together, holds a certain warmth and depth. 

Yeo and yourself engage in a quiet conversation, and you find yourself relishing this rare opportunity to connect with him on a personal level. In the larger group, he often keeps to himself, a quiet presence in the midst of the lively discussions. It's exciting to finally have a one-on-one conversation with him, a chance to peel back the layers and get to know the person behind the reserved exterior.

The hour or so that you spend chatting is a revelation. You discover a shared interest in books, a passion that he's clearly enthusiastic about. Yeo's eyes light up as he shares recommendations from his personal reading choices, and you're captivated by the depth of his knowledge and his love for literature.

As the conversation flows, you delve into the world of books, exchanging thoughts on favourite authors, genres, and memorable reads. The exchange of recommendations feels like a treasure trove of new adventures waiting to be explored. It's a conversation that transcends the boundaries of the room and opens a door to a shared passion that you both cherish. In this moment you get an overwhelming feeling of deja vu, as if you have been in this position before, or have yet to be in this situation.

During this intimate moment, you realise that beneath Yeo's quiet demeanour lies a wealth of knowledge and a genuine enthusiasm for the things he loves. The connection you share through your shared interest in books is a testament to the richness of human connection and the beauty of discovering common ground with someone you might not have expected. It's a reminder that there's always more to uncover about the people around you, and that even the quietest among us can hold hidden depths waiting to be explored. 

-

Immersed in the creative haven of your bedroom, you find comfort in the rhythmic strokes of your pencil against the textured paper. For the past week, you have poured your heart and soul into a meticulously crafted drawing of your eight friends, their features coming to life with each delicate line and shading. It has become your labour of love, a tribute to the cherished connections you've formed with each of them. As melodic tunes echo through the room from a speaker perched on your desk, the dulcet melodies provide a gentle backdrop to your artistic activities. The song, suggested by Woo himself, serves as a bridge, connecting your creative energy with the vibrations of the soundscape. You find yourself instinctively bobbing your head in time to the rhythm, your body swaying with harmony.

However, the tranquillity is abruptly shattered as the front door slams shut, the unexpected noise jolting you from your reverie. Your heart skips a beat, a surge of both dismay and fear coursing through your veins. The unmistakable thudding of footsteps echoes up the stairs, sending a shiver down your spine. It is your father's arrival, a presence that always harbours an air of tension and unpredictability.

With nimble urgency, you reach over to the speaker and swiftly silence the music, plunging the room into a weighted silence. The absence of melodies only amplifies the unease that lingers in the air, adding an oppressive weight to the atmosphere. Your sanctuary, once filled with the joyous sounds of music, is now stifled by the solemn hush that envelops it.

A palpable tension fills the room as you desperately hope for a stroke of luck, silently pleading for your father to bypass your closed door, his footsteps continuing down the hall to his own room. In the stillness of the moment, you remain frozen, your very breath restrained in anticipation.

But, as fate would have it, luck turns a deaf ear to your silent wishes. The door creaks open, swinging inward with a reluctant motion, revealing the formidable figure of your father standing on the threshold. His presence alone fills the room with an air of trepidation, his imposing stature and crossed arms creating an impenetrable barrier that demands attention.

Struggling to maintain his balance, you notice the slight wobble in his stance, a sign of the tumultuous emotions that brew within him. His arms remain tightly folded over his chest; a physical shield that matches the sternness etched onto his face. The weight of his gaze, intense and unyielding, seems to pierce through the silence, weighing heavily upon the room and those within it. A mixture of apprehension and anxiety coalesces within you, causing your heart to race in your chest. The air hangs heavy with unspoken words as if any attempt at conversation might trigger an unexpected tempest. You hold your breath, awaiting the next move, your entire being poised on a precipice of hesitation. 

“What are you doing?” He questions, his voice slurred and unclear.

“Drawing,” With a sense of urgency, you respond hastily, your words chosen carefully to minimise any potential escalation. The desire to avoid the volatile whirlwind of his unpredictable moods propels you to seek a rapid conclusion to the interaction, hoping that your brief responses will prevent the conversation from lingering any longer than necessary. The burdensome weight of the situation and the fatigue that grips your spirit urge you to retreat, seeking solace and respite from the tumultuous presence of your father. You are caught off guard by your father's presence and the disconcerting aura surrounding him, you find yourself yearning for a swift end to the interaction. Your own emotions, a mix of weariness and apprehension, compel you to seek an expedited resolution. The weight of his unpredictable and volatile emotions, amplified by the telltale signs of his consumption of alcohol, looms heavily in the room, intensifying your desire to disengage from the conversation.

“When are your exams?” The man asks as he stumbles into your room, clearly fumbling around on his feet, unable to find balance on his feet, very clearly a side effect of the heavy consumption of alcohol.

“Next month.” 

A wave of unease washes over you as your father's brow furrows once more, his expression shifting into one of annoyance. The subtle creases on his forehead deepen, forming a stark contrast against the lines of tension etched upon his face. At that moment, your heart sinks, a heavy weight settling in the pit of your stomach. The intensity of his displeasure, evident in the way his features contort, sends a surge of apprehension through your veins. Your own emotions waver on a cliff, poised between a desire to appease and a need to protect yourself from the potential fallout. As his annoyance penetrates the room, you brace yourself for what may come next, keenly aware of the precarious nature of your current situation. 

“Then you should be studying.” He booms, his voice echoing off the walls of your small bedroom. 

“I was going to study when I finish this.” 

“Do not back talk to me.” The sound of your father's voice reverberates through the room, amplified by the alcohol coursing through his veins, causing you to flinch involuntarily. Avoiding direct eye contact, you shift your gaze downwards, unable to bear the intensity of his drunken rage. The urge to roll your eyes at his exaggerated and unjustified behaviour becomes nearly irresistible, as you struggle to comprehend why he is directing his anger at you for such a trivial matter. A sense of exasperation builds within you, fuelled by the stark contrast between the magnitude of his reaction and the insignificance of the situation at hand. The weight of his misplaced frustration leaves you bewildered, questioning the logic behind his anger. It feels like an unwarranted attack on your being, leaving you grappling with a mix of resentment and confusion. Yet, mindful of the volatile nature of the situation, you tamp down your instinctive response. Instead, you silently navigate the treacherous waters, attempting to maintain composure and seeking a swift resolution to this senseless confrontation.

“I’m sorry.” In a desperate attempt to defuse the escalating tension, you respond, your words laced with a mix of pleading and a longing for tranquillity. Your desire to return to the serene solace of your artistic endeavours intensifies, fuelling your efforts to restore a sense of calm. However, your heart lurches upward, lodging itself in your throat, as your father takes a step closer, intruding upon your personal space. A shiver snakes its way down your spine as his hand reaches out, settling heavily on the back of your neck. The weight of his touch feels oppressive, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil that engulfs you. 

Fear dances within your veins, mingling with a sense of vulnerability. The boundaries that should protect you have been violated, leaving you acutely aware of your powerlessness at this moment. Your instinctive longing for escape intensifies, urging you to seek refuge from this dangerous environment and the touch that sends chills down your spine.

“Don’t forget who is in charge here.” Your father's whispered words cut through the air, a chilling undertone accompanying them, as his nails dig into the delicate skin of your neck. The sharp pain shoots through your body, an unwelcome reminder of the power imbalance in this unsettling encounter. Tears gather in your eyes, threatening to spill over as a mixture of pain and anxiety churns within your chest, constricting your throat. A knot of fear tightens in your stomach, intensifying the overwhelming sense of vulnerability that envelopes you. The weight of his grip and the raw discomfort that courses through your body serves as a stark reminder of the control he applies, amplifying the helplessness that grips your being. You yearn for release from this distressing moment, desperately seeking an escape from his oppressive presence and the escalating pain that continues to coil around you.

A lump forms in your throat, constricting your voice as you manage to summon a weak response, uttering a subdued, "Yes, Dad." The weight of fear and anxiety threatens to overwhelm you, making it difficult to find the strength to speak or express yourself fully. 

The knowledge of past experiences with your father looms in your mind, serving as a reminder of the potential consequences that could follow even the slightest provocation. The disparity between the magnitude of his reaction and the seemingly insignificant trigger leaves you confused, the fear of setting off his anger further stifling your genuine thoughts and feelings. The urge to voice your true thoughts, to stand up for yourself, simmers within, but the fear that accompanies it serves as a heavy muzzle, silencing the words you long to say. In this suffocating atmosphere, you decide to bite your tongue, for now, choosing self-preservation over the risk of inciting his explosive rage. 

“What is this shit?” Your father's voice cuts through the air with a biting edge, his disdain is evident as he questions the worth of your drawing. His harsh gaze fixated upon the paper on your desk, the discarded pencil serving as a silent witness to his disapproval.

“Just something I’m working on.” In an attempt to diffuse the situation, you reply with a hint of defensiveness, your words laced with an eagerness for him to cease his interrogation and retreat from your sanctuary. The desperate plea for him to leave you be, to preserve the sanctity of your safe space, hangs heavily in the air between you.

As he snatches the sketchbook from the desk, your nerves intensify, your pulse quickening as his scrutinising eyes peruse the paper. The tension in the room becomes almost suffocating, amplifying your anxiety to new heights.

“Who is this?” His bitter and slurred voice reverberates, the words barely coherent. 

Fear floods your veins, and knowing the truth would lead to misunderstanding and potential danger. Hastily, you weave a web of lies, your words rushed and unsteady, hoping to divert his attention away from the genuine connection you share with the boys.

The man's anger escalates, his words morphing into a piercing yell that reverberates within the confines of the room. The intensity of his outburst pierces your ears, each syllable hammering into your consciousness. The weight of his disdain for your artistic talent lands heavily upon your heart, his belittlement serving as a painful reminder of the limitations he imposes upon your aspirations. 

Panic grips you as your father's hand inches closer to the paper, and a sense of dread fills every fibre of your being as you realise his malicious intentions. Frantically, you reach out in a futile attempt to stop him, but your efforts prove futile as he ruthlessly rips the page from the book, tearing it down the middle. Tears well up in your eyes as a profound sense of disappointment and pain courses through your body, your hard work treated with callous disregard, tossed aside as if it were nothing. With a surge of determination, you rise from your chair, driven by an instinct to protect what remains of your creation. However, your resistance is met with ruthless force as your father forcefully pushes your body, causing you to crash onto the floor, the impact jolting through your hip and radiating pain throughout your entire being. The anguish of your shattered artwork pales in comparison to the physical and emotional pain inflicted upon you at this moment.

As you lie on the floor, a broken mess of tears and anguish, your father's rage reaches new heights. He towers over you, his face contorted with anger, grabbing the back of your head painfully once again. The proximity of his enraged face leaves you trembling, his piercing scream reverberating through your ears, assaulting your senses with an intensity that feels unbearable. In this horrifying moment, you are forced to confront the painful reality of his control, the overwhelming weight of his anger eclipsing any semblance of safety or peace. 

“If I ever see you sketching again, I will not be as forgiving.” Spit flies from your father’s mouth, his breath reeking of alcohol, making you even more disgusted. Tears fall freely from your eyes as you try to maintain your composure, so as to not enrage the man even further. Your father continues his words, “Clean this mess up. I’m going to sleep.” 

With an abrupt exit, the man stumbles out of your room, his unsteady footsteps resounding on the wooden floor, echoing the turmoil that lingers in his wake. You can only surmise that he retreats to his own bedroom, likely collapsing onto the bed in a drunken slumber. The abruptness of his departure offers a temporary respite, but the emotional scars and residual fear remain, haunting the air within your room. Weeping silently, your trembling hands pressed against your face, you struggle to contain the overwhelming surge of emotions that threaten to overcome you. In the midst of your despair, you survey the scattered remnants of your destroyed drawing, yearning for a miracle that would restore it to its former glory. Each torn piece becomes a painful reminder of the shattered gift intended for your only friends.

With shaky resolve, you begin the arduous task of collecting the fragmented remnants, moving them from the floor to the bin next to your desk. Each movement brings fresh waves of tears, your heart aching at the irreparable loss of the heartfelt gesture. The realisation that the memento meant to convey your appreciation and friendship now lies in ruins only amplifies your sense of devastation. As you meticulously dispose of the torn pieces, your tears fall even harder, tracing a sorrowful path down your cheeks. The weight of the ruined gift presses upon your soul, a profound sense of loss mingling with the lingering pain of the recent encounter. In this moment of vulnerability, you find solace in your tears, allowing yourself to grieve the destruction of your artistic expression and the shattered connection it represented.

As the silence envelops the house, you breathe a sigh of relief, realising that the man who instils such terror within you is finally lost in the depths of sleep. Drawing strength back into your trembling legs, you hastily slip on your shoes, a desperate urgency compelling you to escape the confines of the place you dread most. 

Stealthily, you navigate the familiar hallways, your movements shrouded in silence, driven by an intense need to distance yourself from the haunting presence that lingers within those walls. The weight of your fear propels you forward, guiding your steps towards an uncertain destination.

In your frantic search for solace, you find yourself stumbling upon the empty warehouse, its vast expanse providing a sense of respite and comfort that you yearn for. Though devoid of human presence, you know deep within your soul that the very atmosphere within this cavernous space will envelop you, granting a momentary reprieve from the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume you.

Stepping into the familiar warehouse, the sound of the large metal doors scraping against the concrete floor reverberates through the cavernous space, creating a symphony of echoes that dance along the walls. The rhythmic noise seems to announce your entrance as if beckoning invisible spectators to witness your raw vulnerability. Yet, amidst the vast emptiness, the absence of your friends accentuates the solitude that envelops you, amplifying the bittersweet comfort of this cherished sanctuary.

Staggering towards the worn-out couch, its faded fabric hinting at the countless memories shared upon its cushions, you allow your body to collapse into its familiar embrace. The soft cushions yield beneath your weight, conforming to the contours of your tired form. You lay down sideways, finding comfort in the familiar haven that holds so many cherished moments. The tears flow freely from your eyes, tracing glistening paths down your cheeks, as if the very fabric of the pillow beneath your head absorbs the weight of your sorrow. Every sob that escapes your trembling lips reverberates within the expansive metal room, each one a witness to the depth of your pain. The echoes reverberate through the space, intertwining with the ethereal remnants of laughter and friendship that have painted the walls with a subtle warmth. The traumatic event that has left you bruised and broken resonates within the vastness of the room, its hollowness a haunting backdrop to your vulnerability.

Time becomes a fluid concept as you lose yourself in the catharsis of your tears. The exhaustion weighs upon you like an invisible burden, the weight of the world pressing down upon your weary shoulders. Each sob drains your energy, leaving your eyelids heavy and your body craving a respite from the relentless ache. Gradually, the exhaustion takes hold, its grasp tightening around your consciousness. The drowsiness seeps into every fibre of your being, your mind and body surrendering to the lullaby of weariness. As the golden rays of the setting sun filter through the cracks in the metal walls, casting an ethereal glow upon your tear-stained face, sleep claims you, offering a temporary escape from the harsh realities that haunt your waking hours.

As the coils of sleep begin to loosen their grip on your consciousness, you are jolted awake by the sensation of being gently shaken. Blinking groggily, you try to push away from the source of the disturbance, a low groan escaping your lips. To your surprise, the sound is met with a soft chuckle, a deep voice calling your name with tenderness. A hand comes to rest on your head, its touch gentle and soothing, patting you in a comforting rhythm.

Startled, your heart skips a beat, your body tensing at the unexpected touch. The fear of encountering your father floods your mind, sending waves of anxiety coursing through your veins. In a swift motion, you sit up, the blanket slipping from your shoulders, your eyes scanning the dimly lit surroundings of the warehouse. It takes a moment for your vision to adjust, and when it does, you realise that you are still in the familiar confines of the warehouse, resting on the worn-out couch. The realisation washes over you, relief mingling with lingering fearfulness.

Peering around, you notice that darkness has descended upon the space, replacing the golden hues of the setting sun with a blanket of shadow. It dawns on you that you must have been asleep for several hours, the passage of time slipping by unnoticed as fatigue overcomes you. Your gaze then falls upon the source of your awakening, the boy known as 'Yu,' crouched on the floor before the couch. His soft grin illuminates his features, his dishevelled brown hair partially hiding his eyes, his cheeks adorned with a gentle blush. 

“Are you okay? What are you doing sleeping here?” Yu asks, looking you tenderly in your eyes, causing your heart to flip in circles.

“I needed to get away from some stuff.” You answer truthfully, not being able to find the strength to lie to the boy in front of you. 

As Yu's concerned gaze meets yours, the worry etched on his face, the smile that had adorned his features fades away. The depth of your distress is evident to him, and he can sense the heaviness that weighs upon your weary soul. It's as if he can see through the facade you wear, peering into the depths of your eyes to witness the pain and exhaustion that lies within. 

At this moment, any trace of anger or frustration that had accompanied him to the warehouse dissipates entirely, replaced by a newfound tenderness and empathy. He is drawn to you, compelled to offer comfort and relief in the face of your evident struggle. Moving closer, his larger hand finds its way to rest gently atop yours, a gesture that sends a cascade of butterflies fluttering within your stomach. The warmth of his touch seeps into your skin, offering a respite from the coldness that had entered the warehouse. It's a simple act, but it carries a profound weight, communicating a silent message of support and understanding. In this shared moment of vulnerability, you feel a glimmer of hope and connection, as if a lifeline has been extended to you in the midst of your despair. 

“What happened, Tiny?” 

The nickname was bestowed upon you by the boys when you first joined their group, a playful teasing inspired by the absolute height difference between you and Yu. It quickly became a term of endearment that all eight adopted, using it to address you with affectionate familiarity. However, at this moment, as Yu's tenderness envelopes you, the meaning behind the nickname takes on a new layer of complexity, evoking emotions that elude your grasp. It's an unfamiliar sensation for Yu to display such genuine care towards you, considering his infatuation with another girl that has kept him at a distance. Yet, at this moment, you can't help but yearn for his tender presence to be a constant, for him to act as if no other girl holds his attention. The conflicting emotions swirl within you, torn between the desire to keep this fragile connection intact and the fear of revealing the recent traumatic events that unfolded hours ago, uncertain of how Yu would react. 

Your attention shifts to where your hands meet, and your heart lurches at the sight of gashes and blood staining Yu's knuckles. Concern overtakes you, the worry carved upon your features as you contemplate the cause of his injuries. Questions buzz in your mind, begging to be asked, but the fear of intruding upon his personal struggles holds you back. The realisation that pain has marked his hands, mirroring the pain that has scarred your own being, intensifies your sense of worry and empathy.

In this delicate moment, a silent exchange of emotions hangs in the air, unspoken words lingering between you. The weight of unspoken truths and shared vulnerabilities creates a bond that is both fragile and powerful, leaving you uncertain of what course of action to take next. 

“What happened to your hand?” you inquire, pulling his hand into your lap, and observing the wounds on his pretty hands.

Peering up at Yu, concern etched across your features, his heart skips a beat, an unfamiliar sensation stirring within him. It's a feeling he struggles to decipher, a gentle tug that seems to pull at the depths of his being. His eyes lock with yours, and at that moment, time seems to stand still as he finds himself captivated by the curiosity and vulnerability reflected in your gaze. There's a tenderness in Yu's eyes, an almost loving quality as he studies your appearance. His gaze lingers on your swollen eyes, evidence of the tears you've shed and the burden you've carried. The worry radiates from him, manifesting as a protective instinct that seeks to shield you from further pain. It's a sentiment that surprises even him, the depth of his concern far surpassing the bounds of friendship.

In this silent exchange, a subtle shift occurs within Yu, as if the barriers he had carefully constructed around his emotions begin to crumble. The walls he had built to guard his heart start to crack, allowing a glimmer of something deeper to emerge. Though he may not fully understand the extent of his own feelings, the way his gaze lingers on you with tenderness and compassion speaks volumes.

In this moment, a connection forms, the unspoken understanding between you deepening. It's as if a silent agreement is forged, promising support and comfort amidst the challenges you both face. The weight of unspoken words and shared empathy fills the space between you, laying the foundation for something more profound and transformative. 

“Have you been crying?” His voice is gentle and calming, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable by the inquiry, wishing for you to answer.

“Why is your hand hurt?” you retort, his hand still resting in your lap, you trying to wipe away stray pieces of dirt in the cuts. Your hand lingers atop Yu's, a gentle touch that he usually guards against, he finds himself pleasantly surprised by the ease with which he allows you to maintain the contact. It's a rare occurrence for him to let others freely touch him, his personal boundaries carefully shielded. Yet, at this moment, he feels a sense of comfort and acceptance in your touch, as if a barrier he didn't know existed has been effortlessly breached.

The surprise intensifies as he realises that he enjoys the sensation of your hand resting upon his, the warmth of your touch bringing a sense of connection that he hadn't anticipated. There's a certain serenity in your presence, a quiet assurance that draws him in, inviting him to let down his guard and allow himself to be vulnerable. His gaze remains fixated on you, his attention solely focused on your interaction. The world around him seems to fade into the background as he becomes absorbed in this shared moment, his own emotions swirling within. It's unfamiliar territory, one he hadn't expected to find himself in, yet he can't deny the pull that you exert upon him, the magnetic force of your presence.

In this newfound vulnerability, Yu begins to question his own reservations and the walls he has built around himself. Your touch, your unwavering attention, opens up a space where he can explore and discover a different side of himself, one that embraces connection and allows himself to be seen. Hands remaining touching, a silent understanding passes between you, unspoken words painting the canvas of this intimate moment. The depth of your connection holds the promise of something extraordinary, an exploration of emotions and possibilities that neither of you could have foreseen.

“I asked first.” Yu teases, trying to lift the mood, wanting to see the smile he has grown to adore appear on your features.

“I don’t want to bother you.” You reply, your voice shaky and quiet, answering truthfully, not sure if he would be able to handle the information you so desperately need to disclose to someone. 

“You never bother me,” As Yu contemplates his next move, a surge of courage courses through him. Without hesitation, he uses the hand that rests in your lap, gently interlocking his fingers with yours. He takes care to avoid smudging his dried blood on you or your clothes, a subtle gesture of consideration that doesn't go unnoticed.

The unexpected act of affection catches you off guard, your eyes widening in surprise. Heat rises to your cheeks, a blush betraying the fluttering emotions that swirl within you. You meet Yu's gaze, his eyes soft and filled with a tenderness that resonates deeply. A small smile graces his lips, a wordless reassurance that speaks volumes. In this simple gesture, he communicates a willingness to bridge the gap between you, to traverse the uncertain territory of shared vulnerability. It's a brave step forward, an offering of trust and a declaration of his sudden growing feelings.

“It’s okay, ___.” Yu whispers, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly as his words become more serious, “You can tell me anything.”

Sighing, you decide maybe it is okay to confide in one person. 

“It’s my dad.” You admit, looking down at the hand that Yu has gripped gently in his own, his fingers wrapped around your smaller hand. Yu gives you a puzzled look, not sure what your father could have done to make you so upset. Noticing his confused expression, you continue speaking, “It is dumb, but I was working on this drawing, and he came in drunk out of his mind and started yelling at me for not studying,”

“Hold on, he was drunk?” Yu questions, starting to feel anger build up in his body.

“Yeah, but when is he not.” You attempt to joke, yet the look on Yu’s face doesn’t look amused, causing you to sigh gently, “he ripped up the drawing in front of my face and said if he ever sees me drawing again, he ‘won’t be as forgiving’, whatever that means,” you mumble, the weight of vulnerability settling upon you, you become highly aware of the depth of the information you have just shared. 

A sense of unease and apprehension begins to gnaw at your insides, uncertain of how Yu will react to this newfound revelation. The silence that follows is deafening, and you can't help but lift your gaze from your intertwined hands to meet his eyes.

What you see takes you by surprise, an expression of absolute disbelief etched across Yu's features. His eyes wide, his lips slightly parted as if struggling to find the words to respond. The moment hangs suspended in time, the tension thickening the air between you. Questions swirl in your mind, uncertainty threatening to unravel the fragile connection that has been forged. Doubt creeps in, casting shadows over the vulnerability you have exposed. You find yourself questioning the wisdom of sharing such intimate feelings, fearing the potential repercussions it may have on your friendship. In this charged moment, the world seems to hold its breath, waiting for Yu's reaction. The uncertainty weighs heavily upon you, your heart pounding in your chest as you anxiously await his response.

Preparing to question the impact of your confession on Yu, your words catch in your throat, suspended by the sudden movement of his embrace. In a swift motion, he pulls you towards him, enveloping your body in a tight hug that leaves you momentarily breathless. Your head is gently guided to rest in the crook of his neck, the warmth of his skin against yours sending shivers down your spine. His hand finds its place on the back of your head, his fingers tenderly stroking your hair with a soothing rhythm. Yu's sensitivity to your tense form prompts a fleeting hesitation within him, a flicker of uncertainty about having crossed a boundary or making you uncomfortable. But when he feels your entire body relax and melt into his embrace, a surge of emotions courses through him. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest, swelling with a feeling akin to absolute adoration. It's a moment of defencelessness and connection that surpasses words, forging a bond between you that almost feels unbreakable.

In response to his comforting presence, you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, seeking solace in his embrace. Nestling into the curve of his neck, you revel in the sensation of being held, the touch of his skin against yours grounding you in the present moment. Yu adjusts his position, rising to sit on his knees and drawing himself even closer to your body. Your chests align, rising and falling in synchrony, as he positions himself between your legs. His grip tightens around you, afraid that you might vanish from his embrace.

In this intimate cocoon, it becomes clear that you weren't the only one in need of a hug. The mutual longing for comfort and reassurance binds you together, transcending the complexities of your individual experiences. In this tender moment of shared vulnerability, the world around you fades into insignificance, leaving only the warmth of each other's presence, the solace of a genuine connection, and the promise of healing.

Basking in the comfort of Yu's embrace, time seems to suspend, creating a sanctuary where worries and troubles momentarily fade away. However, your heart sinks when you feel him slowly pull away, a pang of disappointment seeping through your being. Yet, his hand continues to stroke the back of your head, his touch lingering, serving as a reminder of the tenderness you experienced.

Meeting his gaze, locking eyes with him, and at that moment, the connection between you deepens. It's as if the world around you dims, leaving only the intensity of his brown eyes that seem to hold a universe of emotions. Every fibre of your being is drawn to him, falling deeper into a feeling you've been trying to resist. 

A hint of reluctance lingers in Yu's actions as he clears his throat, a signal that the intimate moment must come to an end. He slowly removes himself from your embrace, settling back into his previous position. Yet, his gaze remains fixed on you, unyielding and intense, as if he's afraid to look away, afraid to lose the connection that has formed. You find yourself lost in his gaze, a swirl of feelings and unspoken words passing between you. There's a magnetic pull, an unspoken understanding that something profound has transpired between you. It's a delicate dance of emotions, a dance that neither of you can fully comprehend but are unwilling to let go.

In this halted moment, the air crackles with anticipation, as if the next words spoken could alter the course of your relationship forever. The intensity in Yu's eyes speaks volumes, a testament to the depth of the bond that has formed between you. 

“If something like this happens again, please let me know,” Yu says, breaking the silence, his voice serious, needing to protect you from whatever your father could possibly do in the future.

A meek smile graces your lips, an expression of gratitude that conveys more than words ever could. Deep within, you carry the weight of unspoken pain and secrets, understanding that some experiences are difficult to share, especially the ones involving your father. You appreciate Yu's offer of support, even though you know you can't burden him with the full extent of what you've endured.

In this moment of silent acknowledgement, you convey a deep sense of gratitude for his presence, for the solace he has unknowingly offered. It's a silent understanding that goes beyond words, a recognition of the unspoken connection between you. Despite the barriers that may exist, you find solace in knowing that there is someone who cares, someone willing to extend a helping hand.

“Now your turn.” You exclaim, causing Yu to give you a confused look, “Your hand. What happened?”

Yu lets out a sound of realisation, his expression matching it. Looking down at the gashes in his hands, Yu makes an expression similar to embarrassment. 

“I got in a fight,” Yu explains, his cheeks heating up, realising you might be disappointed in him.

“Another? Why now?” You question, your voice is soft and caring, making him realise you aren’t upset at him, just worried, making his heart warm slightly, despite the war and heartbreak going throughout his entire body.

“The girl that Yeo and I used to like… she has said some stuff, some stuff that isn’t true. It’s tearing us apart, all of us.” Yu’s voice is shaky, and you can tell he is deeply affected by the circumstances.

Immediately, your interest is piqued, and concern envelops your being, you can't help but wonder what could have been said by the girl to have such a profound impact on Yu and the entire group. The realisation that her words have caused a collective breakdown weighs heavily on your mind, triggering a surge of curiosity and a deeper level of concern. Thoughts whirl through your head, seeking answers and understanding. What could she have revealed that shattered their spirits? What truths or revelations could have struck a chord so deeply? You can't help but ponder the significance of her words and the implications they hold for your friends and their emotional well-being.

In the midst of your thoughts, a mix of emotions floods your being, concern, empathy, and a deep desire to alleviate their pain. The bond between you and the group becomes even more heartrending, a reminder of the connection of your lives and the importance of standing together in the face of adversity. 

“What did she say?” You question, your hand coming to rest on his like he did earlier.

“She said we laid our hands on her, we hurt her, physically, sexually. But I swear on everything, I have never put my hands on her, on anyone. None of us have, we have only ever acted in self-defence. I don’t know why all of a sudden, she is making up these stories. It is tearing us apart. Every single person believes her, they are coming after us, with their fists. Someone tried to come at Captain and I with a baseball bat, and it’s terrifying us, we don’t know what to do.”

“Wait what?” Your voice trembles with a mixture of shock and disbelief as you contemplate why this girl would suddenly feel the need to falsely accuse the boys you have grown so close to. In the time you've spent with them, you have come to know each of them as kind-hearted individuals, devoid of aggression or abusive tendencies. Your experiences with them have left a deep imprint, and you find it unfathomable to believe that any of them would ever lay a hand on someone, especially a woman.

The weight of this accusation hangs heavily in the air, and you struggle to reconcile the image of your friends with the words that have been spoken. It feels like a betrayal, not just to them but to the bond you have formed, as your faith in their character and integrity is steadfast. The disbelief fuels a surge of protectiveness and a fierce desire to defend them against these baseless accusations.

When Yu raises his gaze to meet yours, the shimmering tears threatening to escape, your heart aches with empathy and compassion. The vulnerability etched across his face mirrors your own inner turmoil, as you share a profound connection and a shared understanding of the gravity of the situation. At that moment, your heart breaks for him and for the rest of the group, as you witness the weight of their pain and the unjust burden they must bear.

“I don’t know why this is happening, or why she said it was all of us. Only Yeo and I have spent time with her, she has never even met the boys. Plus, we haven’t seen her in over two months, she said it happened last month. It makes no sense.”

“Yu, if it’s not true then you do not have to worry about anything. It will get sorted, okay? You are innocent.” All you can do is bring the man into your arms once again, this time letting him weep into your shoulder, his body limp against yours. It breaks your heart to see him so vulnerable, so broken because of deadly rumours.

“We will get this sorted, Yu. I promise.”

------

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[chiefdirector]

Discovering | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Tim could feel the blood pounding through his veins, the sound reverberated through him. Each pump seemed to get louder and louder. Each thud was felt in his chest. He looked down only to find his hands were shaking beyond his control. If he hadn't drawn his attention away from his heartbeat, he wouldn't have noticed the tremors, or the people rushing around him as he stayed frozen to his spot.

Harper and West were getting equipment. Nolan and Chen were to one side, discussing something that Tim couldn't hear. Grey and the Captain whose name Bradford hadn't bothered to learn were to the other side of the room, silently watching the rest of the station prepare to go into the unknown.

The files that had been given out in the briefing yesterday had instructed each team on what their assignment was. Harper would be going with Nolan to check out the safehouse that was assigned to (Y/N)’s operation to see if there was anything that could hint to her current location. Lopez was to head back to interrogation to attempt to get Williamson to give up any more information. Chen was staying behind with him to review everything from the beginning. 

“Hey,” Chen said, bringing Tim’s mind back to him, “Grey is waiting for us in the conference room. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, lead the way.”

-----

“So, from the beginning, Detective Bradford started her undercover operation two years ago on the 5th of May. She last checked in with us on the 17th of May, and was declared legally M.I.A on the 23rd of May.” Sargent Grey said, sticking a post-it note to the left side of the board at the top of the room. He continued sticking post-its as he spoke. “The initial investigation turned up little but her gun was found in the assigned safehouse alongside a bottle of her medication.”

“According to Williamson, he saw her for the last time shortly after that. He turned on her a few days after they went M.I.A. But she didn't know, or she wanted to play it cool because she kept in contact via burner phone semi-regularly.” Chen said, looking down at the notes in front of her.

Tim’s head snapped to face his rookie “Was that when you spoke to him privately, or was this in interrogation?”

“When we were alone.”

“Text Lopez, get him to confess to it on record. If not, it's not solid enough to go from.”

“Tim’s right, Chen, but it's helpful nonetheless.” Grey sighed, “From then on it's pretty rocky. We have a few civilian sightings but nothing concrete. She stayed away from CCTV and any heavily policed areas. She knew to stay hidden. Which doesn’t help us, but we now know that it was intentional. WIlliamson said he spoke to her less than two weeks ago, she was near the Mexican border in Arizona.”

“Does the border patrol know to look out for her?”

“The Captain is alerting them now, as well as local police departments. The FBI has also been told of this development due to the crossing of state lines. They have agreed to give manpower as needed but let’s hope we can keep this in house.”

“So what now? We have barely anything to go from?” Chen tentatively said, trying not to provoke any reaction from her T.O with her words.

“We wait for Lopez to finish her interview with Williamson and then we will make a plan.”

-----

“He seemed to realise he was in a lot of trouble and asked for a lawyer pretty quickly.” Lopez said as she walked into the room, “I did, however, manage to get him to reveal the names of his employers in a trade for a letter from the Watch Commander stating his cooperation to whatever judge he gets assigned.”

Grey nodded his head before prompting Angela to continue.

“I had another Detective look up the names he gave. As expected they are tied to all sorts of crimes; drug distribution, embezzlement, fraud, unlawful use of a lethal weapon. And those are the ones I can remember off the top of my head. However, there is also good news, none of them seem to have a history with kidnapping or anything more extreme, or at least anything that has been reported.”

“And we want to keep it that way, so we will have to be extremely careful with what we do next.” Grey said, moving towards the door to go brief the Captain about their discovery and to start to make a plan of action 

“Yeah, but there is one more thing he said before lawyering up.”

“What is it?”

“That we shouldn't waste the manpower on finding (Y/N). He said that she wasn’t the one they wanted to hurt but she was used to punish other people. Her vanishing was only a means to an end.”

Tim could hear his heart begin to pound in his ears once again. He breathed in, then out, then in again. If she wasn't their target, then who was? And if she was only a pawn in their game to hurt somebody else, then what else would they do to ensure their target would suffer. How many more lives had been ruined by these monsters, and how many more would suffer a similar fate to the ones that had gone before them?

“Who were they trying to hurt?” Tim ran his hands through his hair as the question unintentionally tumbled out from him. “Did he give a name?”

“Yeah, that's the thing…” Angela let the words trail off as she tried to compose herself. Tim watched as she took a deep breath. “Williamson claimed that the cartel they were hunting threatened (Y/N) into silence with photos of her loved ones to make you vulnerable.”

“I dont… I dont understand.”

“You were the one they wanted to punish, Tim. This is about you, it always has been.”

Part Three | Part Five

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989

Tags are open :)

[matan4il]

Amin al-Husseini docu: part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Last

A bit of background on Ezra Yachin, since the relevant parts of his life story are not really covered in the docu:

He was born on June 11, 1928 in Jaffa, in Israel, back when it was under the British Mandatory occupation. His father was an Israeli Jew, descendant of a family who returned to Israel from Syria, while Ezra's mother was an Egyptian Jew, who moved to Israel after her marriage to his dad.

Not long after the marriage, the family moved to Jerusalem, first to the Old City, and later to Yemin Moshe (the Old City of Jerusalem became far too crowded, and Jews, who were the biggest of the 3 religious groups there at the time, started building new neighborhoods outside the Old City walls, now considered historically significant. The first was Mishkenot Sha'ananim in 1860, and Yemin Moshe was the second, in 1891).

Ezra was 1.5 years old during the 1929 anti-Jewish Arab riots, his family was besieged by an Arab mob, and it hid in one room, but then baby Ezra started crying. The mob heard the baby's sobs, and started breaking in, but then one of the rioters threw a rock at the window, which missed its target and ended up bouncing back from the wall, injuring the man who threw it. The mob got scared, evacuated the injured rioter, and dispersed. Later, a mob gathered again outside the family home, but then an old Arab woman shouted that it was a waste of time going after the poor Jews of this neighborhood, and she led the mob away, to where she claimed she knew the rich Jews live.

At the age of 15, Ezra joined one of the 3 Jewish undergrounds, the Lehi, and his tasks were to glue the underground's posters to the walls of homes around Jerusalem, as well as to try and get intel about the British from his work at the postal office. His friend, 17 years old Alexander Rubowitz, was kidnapped by British police on May 6, 1947 when caught on his way to glue posters for the underground. He was taken by car to the Yehuda desert, and murdered there. His body was never found, but there is a confession from his murderer, Captain Roy Farran, which was ignored by British authorities. Ezra's testimony can be heard in a documentary about Alexander, A Mandate to Murder (currently only available online in Hebrew). This is an underground poster asking where is Alexander Haim Rubowitz:

Ezra fought in Israel's Independence War, including in the "Death Rooftop" battle for the Jewish Quarter, during which he sustained an injury to his right eye, and a shrapnel penetrated his skull. He was rushed into a surgery that lasted almost a full day, during which his cerebrospinal fluid continuously leaked out. He miraculously survived and made a full recovery, other than losing his eye.

He still lives in Jerusalem, and over the years has published 10 books, including Death in Chains, about the Jewish underground members who were killed by the British without a trial.

In Oct 2023, he volunteered to serve in the army again at the age of 95, becoming Israel's oldest reservist ever.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[sc0tters]

Welcome Wagon | Andrei Svechnikov

summary: when less that fortunate circumstances cause you to live with your older brother, you realise it might not be as bad as you once thought once you meet his teammate Andrei.

song: Last Great American Dynasty - Taylor Swift

request: yes/no

warnings: like three swear words, two allusions to sexual thoughts but nothing explicit.

word count: 2.76k

authors note: to the person who requested this, I hope you have the best day like ever! As a proud cat owner it was only right that I picked that Andrei picture. Wikipedia was where I got all of the little facts and Google is where I went for the Russian nickname used in this. Realised that I honestly didn’t keep to the song as much as a probably should have but I hope you still like this! If you want to check out more from the celly you can do so here!

You were never a fan of stability.

Deemed the wild child of the Staal family or as you liked to see it, the accident child given that there was over 9 years between you and your closest brother in age.

Never truly seeming to settle in a place as you had moved all around the US after getting your degree in Canada last year.

All four of your brothers were worried about it when you used your one call to get out of jail on the youngest of the boys, Jared. You thought that he would be the understanding one since he had spent a night in jail before, but clearly you were wrong when you were met with an irritated Jordan who was stood at the door of the police station with his arms crossed. The idea of trying to explain to him that you arrested for trespassing because of a drunk truth or dare game was not something you wanted to hear the lecture about so instead you just ignored the entire interrogation from him.

You had to admit that you were impressed by the way he stood up. Within two weeks you were moved into the guest bedroom of his home where he could keep a watchful eye on you before you gave either one of your parents a heart attack.

The first month went by pretty slot for you, despite your best efforts Jordan didn’t want you meeting his teammates as he feared what they might do when they knew you were there. Jordan knew that you weren’t ugly -as much as the boys like to make you think that you were when you were a child- and he knew that there were key players in the team that if they made a move on you then you’d be in your brothers arms in a week in tears complaining how they broke your heart. As much as he wanted to act like his teammates were better than that, he knew that you had a type and some of the Canes players slotted right into that category.

One player that wasn’t on his radar was Andrei, the total Russian softie. The winger had actually come over one day as Heather had convinced Jordan to invite the lonely boy over for dinner. Andrei had just been dumped by his long term girlfriend and it was safe to say that he had been a wreck “you’re shorter than I thought you’d be. You blurted out as you opened the door as you were met with the boy.

It was suffice to say that Andrei was shocked by your forwardness “you’re not as polite as I thought you’d be.” He shot back wondering who you were.

A giggle fell from your lips as you smiled “I think I’m going to like you.” You confessed as you leaned backwards to look towards the kitchen “Andrei is here!” You called out as you waited for Jordan to make his way over to the door.

Jordan sent you a warning look to behave as he knew what you were like sometimes “I see you’ve met my sister,” the Canes captain pointed out as he motioned to you.

Just as predicted you stuck your hand out “y/n,” you introduced yourself as you smirked. You could see the way that Andrei’s face dropped, everyone and their mother knew that if there’s one person you don’t go for. It’s your captains sister.

Now what you did next was not your proudest of moments, but you wanted to see how face you could push the boy “but you could call me anything you want.” There was a playful gleam in your eyes as you watched the Russian turn red.

Jordan scoffed as he reminded you that he was still there “inside,” your brother rolled his eyes as he pushed you back inside letting the younger hockey player come in too.

Heather couldn’t help but laugh as she could already see what you were plotting “he’s a good kid,” she pointed out as you nodded.

You just smiled “I’m sure he’s good at a lot of things.” Your words were a mumble that only the two of you could hear “preach to that.” It was comforting that your brothers wife was your little cheerleader in what was inevitably going to get at least one of you in trouble.

That dinner had gone down like fine wine as you let your eyes do more talking than your mouth. You would let them linger on the Russian long enough for him to know that you were definitely interested but not to the point where it was weird and inappropriate. Heather had helped your cause when she convinced Jordan to come check on the kids with her as Andrei was leaving “thanks for dinner,” he smiled as he waved the duo up the stairs.

The North Carolina air was humid as it hit your faces “isn’t the boy meant to walk the girl back to her car after the first date?” You joked as you cracked your cheeky grin.

It was actually really nice for Andrei to have someone in his life who was displaying this much interest in him “our first date is not going to involve your brother.” He was quick to point out as he got to his car.

You had to admit that your thighs were very much clenched in that moment “who says that I want to go on a date with you?” You asked as your crossed your arms sending him a thoughtful glance.

That moment when the hockey players lips turned into a smirk you were taken off guard “I’ve been seeing the way you’ve looked at me all night.” Andrei explained as he took a step forward as he brushed the hair out of your face.

You felt your cheeks turn pink at the moment of intimacy “you’re going to need a way to contact me then,” you pointed out as you held your hand out so he could put his phone in it.

The hockey player let out a soft laugh as he shook his head before he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. He loved the sound of your nails tapping on his screen as you put your contact info into the device “look forward to hearing from you Andrei.” You smiled as you handed his phone back to him.

The boy placed his phone back into his pocket “don’t miss me too much now radnaja,” he sent you a soft salute but was almost knocked off of his feet when you stood on your tippy toes to kiss him “goodnight Andrei.” You mimicked your actions before you began to walk away making sure that you let out your little laughing cheer before the door was between you two.

Month two of living with Jordan was all of a sudden far more interesting once Andrei let it slip to Pyotr that the Canadians sister was living with him. Within two days you ended up meeting the whole team. Most nights you spent sat on FaceTime with the winger as you two spoke about stupid shit. The topics ranged from what your plans were to what stupid shit Jordan did during the day “I’ve got to get going,” you let out a giggle as you had been trying to get off of the call for the last twenty minutes.

Andrei forced his lips into a pout “don’t leave me just yet radnaja.” He begged as you playfully rolled your eyes.

You fiddled with the ends of your hoodie strings “if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were getting clingy Andrei.” Your tongue darted out of your mouth as it swiped across your lower lip.

The boy scoffed as he shook his head “how can I be clingy if we haven’t even gone on that date yet?” He shot back causing you to laugh “who’s fault is that!” You pointed out in a duh tone.

Yes it had been over a month since you met Andrei and after 34 days of talking -not that you were counting because that would have been weird- he still hadn’t taken you on that date that you two spoke about on the first night you met “thinking I’ll get one out of Jack first.” It didn’t take a genius to see that Andrei wasn’t a fan of how your friendship with the American had blossomed. Sure it might have sounded selfish but the Russian wanted you for his eyes and company only.

So naturally your comment caused his expression to harden “I’m taking you out tomorrow.” He announced causing your eyes to go wide.

The way the boys voice got deeper and his eyes went darker made you feel the pool that formed in your panties “how do you know I don’t have plans then already?” You sipped at your water as you held in another laugh.

All Andrei could do was smirk “we both know that you’d cancel them for me.” His voice was confident as he knew what he was talking about, and he certainly wasn’t wrong.

So naturally you had spent the entire next day getting ready for the date. When you came downstairs you were surprised to see that Andrei and Jordan were in the middle of a pretty normal sounding conversation.

Andrei almost lost his entire train of thought when he saw you walking over to them “you better not be threatening him Jordy,” you warned as you sent your brother a serious look.

It made the Canes captain smile how oblivious you were. Andrei had told him about his desires to take you out exactly fifteen days ago. It started with the Russian pulling him aside after training as he was desperate to get it off of his chest “was just telling him to make sure that you are home before midnight.” Now that part was true, Jordan did not need to hear you strolling back into the house at two in the morning because if he did then the captain was going to make a morning training session.

Andrei was quick to nod “should we get going?” He asked as he watched you kiss your brothers cheek as you locked your hand in the Russians before you pulled him out of the house.

Jordan couldn’t help it when he laughed “she’s going to kill him.” He smiled to himself as he shook his head before he walked back to the living room.

The winger was quick to place his arm around your shoulders as he slowed down the pace to his car “you look nice,” his compliment caused your cheeks to turn flushed as you looked up at him “one of us had to look good.” You shrugged softly smiling to yourself as the Russian opened the door for you.

Part of you thought that going on a date with Andrei would be a disappointment, most of the dates you went on with guys your age usually were. You began to think that you were the problem in those dates as you were always the common denominator. But tonight squashed each and every one of those doubts and bits of hesitancy.

You had learnt about Andrei’s family, his favourite Russian words, even what he missed about home. And he had gotten the chance to learn about what brought you to North Carolina.

As he walked you back to the front door of the house you let a smile fall onto your lips “glad you held up on your promise Andrei.” You mumbled as the boy placed his hand on the small of your back.

Andrei couldn’t help it but grin when you brought up your joke from the first night you met him “always knew I would radnaja.” There was that name he kept on using for you.

When you stopped in your tracks it caused him to grow slightly alarmed “what does that mean?” You asked as you furrowed your eyebrows “what?” He cocked his head as he had no clue what you were talking about.

For someone who had heard the word so many times, you sure did butcher the pronunciation of it “ranada,” it fell from your lips like he should have known exactly what it was.

The hockey player laughed as he used his hand to cup your cheek “Radnaja is like daring.” When he saw that your mouth opened like you were trying to process what he had said, Andrei instantly thought that he had butchered it “darling?” You let out a giggle when he nodded.

All you could do was smile as you looked up at the boy “maybe we should spend some time learning each others languages better.” You proposed causing the boy to chuckle “I like the sound of that.” He nodded as he smiled.

The idea of teaching you Russian made his heart warm, but nothing was going to be prepare him for what you did next “we should do this again soon.” You shrugged as you placed a kiss on his cheek.

The gesture was one that was familiar to the two of you, but somehow he was never going to get used to it.

Andrei was totally unaware of the fact that it was the whole reason why you did it. Yes it might have been a touch manipulative but you loved how you could pull so many reactions from him whenever you did that “goodnight Andrei.” You laughed as you saw Jordan watching the two of through the window.

The captain had no shame as he was honestly just watching out of curiosity, he knew you’d be telling Heather the truth about the date so for Jordan to learn about it he’d have to partake in the game of broken telephone.

Stability used to freak you out, even make you feel out of place. But by month four you were craving it. Another two dates had gone by with Andrei and he still hadn’t kissed you. Don’t get you wrong, you loved how respectful he was as it was a stark difference from the guys you used to be with. Yet you were almost growing concerned that he had lost interest in you. Thankfully though for you, you had voiced these concerns off to Heather who quickly shut them down “he looks at you like you’re the only girl in the world.” She pointed out in a duh tone making it sound like you were the idiot for not picking up on how the boy felt about you.

That conversation with her was how you got to another one of your language lessons with Andrei. Every Tuesday you’d do them if he wasn’t on a road trip “that’s just a stupid phrase!” You scoffed causing the boy to throw his head back in amusement “no it’s not!” He laughed as you threw some popcorn at him.

Tuesday language lessons weren’t complete if they didn’t have snacks “I have a phrase I was you to learn.” It was like a lightbulb moment where you had to do your best to mask your smirk as you tucked your hair behind your ears “I have a phrase I want you to repeat.” You smiled as you inched your leg ever so closer to him “fire away.” Andrei nodded as he placed his hand on your knee.

Somehow you weren’t that nervous to say it “I want you to kiss me.” You blurted out causing his eyes to go wide.

He took a second to process your words before he gave you an ‘are you being serious’ type of look. All you had to do was nod and his lips were on yours. Andrei’s hand that came to cup your cheek was almost the same size as your face but neither one of you seemed to care. In all of it you had somehow found your place on his lap “wait,” you were quick to pull away causing the boy to softly tug at your bottom lip leaving it now slightly swollen “yes?” Andrei asked as he cocked his head.

You tried your best to make it look like were being serious “you haven’t taught me the translation.” You batted your eyelashes at him causing the boy to let out a groan “seriously?”

When his head feel back you couldn’t help but laugh as you hooked two fingers under his chin “I’m just screwing with you.”

Maybe North Carolina wasn’t as bad as it first seemed.

[stellocchia]

Maybe platonic Undyne & Sans? They have to socialize with each other with Alphys or Papyrus as a buffer.

The rules for the requests are on This Post.

Hell yeah! I basically never see stuff for those two, so I'll gladly write something.

---

Life on the Surface had been great for the most part. The monsters had mostly settled around Mount Ebbott as humanity at large was still suspicious and hostile toward them, but their lives were decidedly better out of the Underground.

Sans had dropped all of his previous jobs in favor of becoming a science teacher in the newly-opened mixed elementary school (both monsters and human students were allowed, but teachers were still predominantly human, so getting a job there hadn't been easy. He'd needed some help from Toriel who was an English teacher there as well as one of the founders).

Papyrus had gotten a job as a line cook at a local fast-food place. Couldn't be happier. Alphys was working with a team of scientists to study the technology of the Core and possibly export it to the surface.

And Undyne was the captain of the monster division of the police force. She'd worked hard for that to get opened up, and had needed to plead with the King for some help with the diplomatic aspects of the whole thing. Her and Alphys had also gotten married.

Overall, the four of them had remained close despite the dramatic shifts in their lives. So much so that they met up every Friday evening after they were all done with their jobs.

Usually, they met at Alphys and Undyne's place. Undyne was always there first, followed by Papyrus, followed by Sans (who always made sure to take a lengthy afternoon nap not to get there too early), and Alphys came in last.

That particular Friday, Sans had forgotten to take his nap so he'd arrived unusually early. Undyne was still preparing some snacks for the evening (some charred black sludge that probably would have been unedible for them had they had taste buds. Alphys sure was glad the food was always finished by the time she arrived). Paps was still nowhere to be seen, he still had an hour or so to the end of his shift.

In Sans' defense, he did try to ask if it was better for him to come back later, but Undyne just rolled her eyes and dragged him in, lifting him up and setting him down on the kitchen table so they could chat as she cooked.

It went just as well as you may imagine...

"Did you watch the Olympics, Sans? Humans sure find bizarre ways to test their physical prowess! I would have won every category!" Undyne boasted.

Sans sheepishly looked down, fidgeting with his hands. "I don't really watch sports" he confessed.

"Oh... right. Well, have you seen any new interesting series? I've been watching a lot of stuff whenever I get the time" Undyne continued, still with just as much passion as she had for any other topic. She was such an energetic person, it was admirable.

"I only really watch TV when we watch anime together".

"Right... well, anything fun at work?" Undyne tried, yet again. This time more hesitant.

"Uhm... the kids are cool. But I'm pretty sure one of the other teachers has been trying to poison my coffee for a couple of weeks now".

Undyne's eyes went wide. "Wha- Sans! You should go to the police for something like that!".

"I don't have any organs and the poison isn't magic. It just falls right through me" he shrugged casually. "No harm in letting the poor guy make a fool of himself a bit more".

"You- right, okay". Silence falls between them for a long moment, before Undyne sighs. "You're a difficult person to talk to".

Sans snorted. "Yeah. That's why I let Paps do all the talking usually. You can't be a scientist without having social anxiety".

"Hm... well, ever thought of seeing a therapist about it? Alphys has been going, and it has been helping her. I've also been doing an anger management course, and that's been neat too. Just saying, you don't gotta struggle forever" she offered him an encouraging smile, and it made Sans actually want to consider the offer.

His and Paps' finances were a bit tight, but perhaps he could figure something out. "Maybe. Thanks 'dyne. You're cool as always".

She grinned. "Of course I am! Who do you think taught Papyrus so well?"

[violetmuses]

Forsaken - A. Aretas 🖤 ❤️‍🩹

Title: Forsaken - A. Aretas 🖤❤️‍🩹

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: When death haunts South Beach, Armando Aretas isn't the only target lined up for known Detectives Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett.

Tag List: @nelo0wesker @yassbishimvintage @nobodygetsza @peaxhygirl @superstar-t20 @adoresmiles @klssngss @probablyintensemuses @hyper-trash-panda 🏷

======

2020

Early sunlight greeted the Miami Harbor while you joined this roof with Armando Aretas. Brackish yet putrid air then reached your nostrils once more.

“You didn't wake me up.” You turned Armando away from his mounted laptop.

“We gotta go. Keep following the list.” His lips meet your touch this morning, and calloused palms gently smooth your knuckles.

Law enforcement officials pulling from the Miami Police Department had locked down Benito Aretas, Armando's late father.

In return, vengeance flamed through Isabel Aretas, Armando's mother.

An absolute storm would pull justice right back down.

______

Once Captain Howard perished, names dwindled even further.

Detective Mike Lowrey would spark with the crossfire last.

Mike Lowrey and his best friend, partner Marcus Burnett, ran down the neon streets as their own bet, laughing past moments while joyful together.

Cornered between shadows, you watch the scheme play in slow motion when Armando lurks that motorcycle and reveals his gun, shooting twice.

Detective Mike Lowrey stumbled, yet immediately fell back against sidewalk pavement.

When chaos erupts, you nearly smile as Armando revs out of sight.

The boogeyman is gone.

______

Several months later, an unexpected truth nearly struck down freedom.

Detective Mike Lowrey somehow pulled through recovery and survived Armando's wrath, almost bulletproof!

Given no other option, you pull the calvary with Armando and plan to take down Lowrey for good.

If unsuccessful this time around, Isabel would plot so much more than danger.

_______

This large-scale standoff pulled back and forth regarding Isabel Aretas. Extra members of the Miami Police Department interfered this evening.

“Don't shoot!” Armando shouts with slightly accented English. Heated fire and rubble engulfed the Aretas compound in all directions.

Veiling your presence despite bloodshed, Armando refuses to watch you die.

"La mataré!” Isabel vows to kill you while yelling in Spanish.

“No, I love her, mama!” Armando revealed this truth out of nowhere as flames pushed on.

You then freeze, shocked by Armando's confession as your steps nearly buckled. Yet, Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett still avoid your opportunity to faint.

Before everything collapsed, final gunshots pierced when Rita Secada armed herself and defeated Isabel.

At long last, each score landed Aretas directly into the burning flames.

“We gotta go!” Rita called out the AMMO squad over and over again.

“Don't leave her!” Armando shouts back, still terribly injured from this overdue battle.

“We're not leaving her behind, I promise. Let's go!” Mike interjected as fire raged all around and officers sprinted with Armando to escape death.

Miracles saved everyone that night.

******

Fluorescent lighting of the cold building captured various shadows this evening. Detective Mike Lowrey would visit Armando, his biological son.

“How you doing?” Mike fought one instance to smile.

“I've paid my debt. It's a big one.” Aretas sighed while marking the reality of his own dangerous choices.

“An opportunity might help cut down some of that debt. Are you interested?” Mike offered this important chance for Armando to redeem himself.

“Yeah, man.” Aretas nodded with confirmation and mentally counted down his upcoming future.

“One question, though.” Mike noted Armando's relationship with you. “Still looking for her?”

“Where is she?” Armando realizes the moment while his heart beats faster.

“In Miami. She'll join AMMO.” Mike promised your safety as he updated Armando.

Before Aretas could respond, visiting hours ended and Mike stepped out, leaving behind more questions than answers.

Sooner than later, Armando couldn't help worrying in silence.

Would I ever see you again?

[adropofhumanity]

In January 2021, the Israeli paramilitary border police forces arrested a 15-year-old boy from his home in Issawiya, occupied East Jerusalem.

Upon his arrival at Al-Mascobiyya detention center in West Jerusalem, the boy was forced to sit in a hallway bound and blindfolded.

"Every two to three minutes, someone would come by and slap, push, punch, or kick me," the boy told DCIP. "I kept silent and never said anything."

He was eventually brought into an interrogation room, where a man who introduced himself as Captain Kamel entered and began punching and kicking the boy while shouting at him.

"Whenever I told him I did not do anything, he would beat me harder. He threatened to shock me with electricity, but I told him I did not do anything."

The boy alleged that the individual then knocked him to the floor while blindfolded and raped him with an object. The individual threatened that the sexual violence would continue unless he confessed to the allegations against him.

The boy was then made to stand against a wall, where the individual inflicted extreme pain on his genitals. "There are no words to describe that moment," the boy told DCIP. The Captain subsequently threatened the boy, telling him that the physical and sexual violence would continue if he told his lawyer what had occurred.

Around 15 minutes after the incident, Israeli forces transferred the boy to another room where he met with a lawyer for about five minutes. He was then taken to a room where a man in civilian clothing introduced himself as an Israeli interrogator. The boy was interrogated for almost four hours, during which he experienced verbal abuse and was forced to sign papers written in Hebrew, the content of which he did not understand.

With his court session adjourned for four days, the boy was detained in a room with four other children for three days, after which he was again taken to an interrogation room. He was interrogated for approximately four hours, at the end of which he was again forced to sign papers in Hebrew. The following day, he was released under the terms of house arrest pending another court session at a later date.

In February 2021, DCIP published a report documenting the alleged assault and passed this information to US officials to seek clarification from the Israeli authorities. According to Josh Paul, a former State Department official, after the US raised this complaint with the Israeli government, DCIP offices were raided twice by Israeli forces in July and August. Their computers were confiscated and their offices were "sealed off" along with the offices of seven other Palestinian NGOs. In October 2021, the DCIP was designated a terrorist organization by Israeli authorities along with five other Palestinian NGOs.

Israel arrests 500-700 Palestinian children a year. While in custody, these children are routinely subjected to widespread and systematic violence and ill-treatment, including physical violence and verbal abuse. Less than one percent were threatened with sexual violence; however, sexual violence amounting to torture or cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment are known to be underreported by child detainee survivors.

A 2015 study on sexual torture by Israeli authorities found that sexual torture of adult Palestinian male detainees by Israeli authorities is systematic, and includes verbal sexual harassment, forced nudity, and physical sexual assault. In case you missed it - this study IS 9 YEARS OLD.

So, in summary, go debate your uncle.

(Sources: DCIP, former US State Department official Josh Paul, CNN, Guardian, Sexual and Reproductive Health Matters)

[butteerfly]

DATING SNK BOYS

just going back to customs <3 actually this headcanon is more like your love story was with each one, i hope you appreciate it

¡¡ mayor spoilers !! s1/2/3

levi ackerman, erwin smith, eren jeager

LEVI ACKERMAN

He thought he was made for a lonely life, but meeting you changed many of his perspectives.

your love story began with a forced coexistence

he was frustrated at having to work alongside a new recruit from the military police

but your quick efficiency quite surprised him

the way you protected everyone during the expeditions caught his attention

then spontaneously you started having midnight talks

he never imagined coinciding with a person as much as he does with you

appreciates that you have left the military police to contribute to humanity through your bravery

He is a very reserved man so discovering his feelings was not an easy task, and making him talk about it was even more difficult

One of the things he likes about you is your ability to surprise him in the most unexpected ways.

you always look flawless according to him

tea tastes different if he shares it with you

He secretly enjoys when you come to his office to complete paperwork with him, sometimes loneliness tires him

He is not a man of words, his love language is acts of service and simple gifts

he is too independent in practically every aspect of his life except with you

He is very overprotective, he does not do it in a possessive way, the world in which you live forces him to take care of you

he partially disagree with you being in the survey corp, but he knows that if he met you there he won't be able to convince you to leave.

he is scared of you because you make him feel vulnerable without any explanation

not into pda, but in the privacy of your room he always prefers you to be on top of him

In terms of sex, I think Levi would agree with whatever you want to do as long as you guys are out of duty.

he is quite shy about that topic due to his lack of experience

when you sleep next to him he could look at your face for hours without getting tired

he really likes how you smell

he's actually your squad captain

your relationship caused an interesting gossip in paradis when it was discovered

hange always asks you when you are going to have children because she wants to meet her nephews and levi always looks at her horrified

he trains you personally and mercilessly because he doesn't want to lose you for anything in the world

when the female titan appearedthe fear he had for you still sends shivers down his spine

whispers I love you

one of his most intimate moments was when he had a panic attack in the middle of a storm, you witnessed his pain and helped him overcome it that day.

It was very difficult for him but he confessed to you what the memory of the death of his best friends made him feel and you comforted him like no one else

he cannot afford to be weak with humanity, he is the strongest soldier of humanity, he has a duty, but with you... your side is the only place where he feels that he is Levi Ackerman and not a soldier

dating Levi is constantly comforting each other, in order to cope with your existence in the world that you lived in

EREN JEAGER

you met when you were just babies, you grew up together those peaceful years

Eren thought you were the cutest girl/boy in Paradis and he continue to think the same for the rest of his life

when your life was turned upside down in a split second you both found peace in each other's embrace.

you share a deep hatred for those who took away your freedom

the devotion you feel for him is immeasurable

from the beginning you always thought like him, the survey corp was your path before he too decided he wanted to go there

Eren confessed his love to you during training, your first kiss was adorable and awkward

dating him back then was a volatile experience, watching him die and come back as a titan stressed you out too much.

you supported him in all his decisions when he found out he was a titan

you swore loyalty..

the latent fear that he will die again haunts you

I think Eren is one of the passionate kisses

he is a hormonal teenager, has a lot of energy

He didn't mind showing you love in public

lots of kisses on the back of your hand

would be a jealous man

when you broke three ribs fighting the female titan he almost went crazy.

He is the type of boyfriend who when you get sick does not leave your side

the shiganshina operation was a before and after in your relationship

when you came back you knew something was wrong just by looking at his eyes

dating him used to be fun, dangerous adventure, you laughed and hugged

But now dating him is a permanent state of alert

he started to be more distant and aggressive towards you progressively, suddenly he no longer kisses you in public and you no longer remember when he said I love you for the last time

he broke up with you but refuses to let you go, you became so dependent on each other

There's a growing anxiety between you that you can't fix and he doesn't seem to care

suddenly he asks you to leave the army and stay away from your friends... and you listen to him because you love him more than your life

Before leaving you forever, he made sure to leave you in the safest place in the world and kiss you for the last time, without giving you any explanation.

dating eren is to miss what his love once was

ERWIN SMITH

Erwin remembers being instantly attracted to your rebelliousness

the way you questioned your superiors to keep your comrades safe made him want to talk to you, you look interesting.

He started filling out paperwork with you, then walking next to you, "accidentally" bumping into you, then inviting you for tea.

when he asked you what you thought about what lay beyond the wall your answer amazed him

he knew you were the one at that moment, but his head refused to accept it as a defense mechanism

the tension that existed between both of you was overwhelming

you initiated your first kiss, making him totally lose himself with you

It didn't take you long to formalize and start walking hand in hand in public.

It was certainly inappropriate but when your superiors asked for an explanation Erwin said that working together in this way was more beneficial for the team and consequently for humanity, everyone fell for his speech

you are the couple that talks about totally strange topics that the rest don't even think about

he taught you to play chess

you taught him a card game that your family had taught you

you recommend books to each other

in fact on your days off you go to a small park to read together, usually you end up sleeping on top of him

he thinks you would be a lovely bride ...

he gave you a ring but never asked the question

you understood why

When you are on duty, you are not distracted much because your obligation is serious, but as soon as night comes...

before he was the commander you used to sneak into his room to sleep next to him

passionate kisses against the wall

In terms of sex, your greatest activity is when you return from the expeditions...you relieve stress that way

believes that red roses are the perfect flowers for you

your heart almost jumped out of your mouth when he lost his arm

he could listen to you talk all day, no matter if he is tired, badly hurt or stressed, your voice is his ground wire

you never questioned him as a commander, after all he was your superior, his speeches left you teary-eyed

you were so proud of the man you fell in love with and dreamed of marrying

until the shiganshina operation came

he ordered you as commander to stay in the rose wall, in case no one of the survey corps is left alive, but you knew that was an excuse, you couldn't believe that he was doing that to you

you begged him on your knees to let you go whit them, he didn't give in but you didn't listen to him either, after all you always had a rebellious spirit

he was speechless when he saw you among the troops, but he couldn't be mad at you on the possible day of his death, he assigned you to armin arlert's group anyway

"this could be the end of everything so why don't we go somewhere only we know" 😭

The last time you saw him in the eyes will always stay in your head.

you felt your world fall when he finally left

dating erwin is having his spirit and courage tattooed on your heart for the rest of your life

.

.

.

I hope you liked my vision <3 I accept any ideas and opinions

[djsherriff]

The two worst men in all of Eden, Pey’J and Alex in the Captain Shauni: A Domz Blood remix au

Alex Taylor swapping with Pey’J, is a notorious street racer who’s been caught in a variety of controversies, his romantic relationship with the much younger Dolph being just another one on his long list. Between his knack for engineering and smooth driving skills, Alex always finds a way to ensure he and Dolph don’t get caught by Eden’s police force. In contrast to his high risk and high adrenaline driven life style, he’s very protective of Dolph’s well being and has a habit of babying him despite the pair being lovers. Though some of that gentle behaviour may be Alex overcompensating for something, a secret maybe….?

Uncle Pey’J takes Alex’s role as the story’s douchebag bad stabber. Having been the one to rescue Jade from being exploited by Eden and had known Jade’s mother, it was very easy for Jade to put her life in Pey’J’s hands, the two forming a strong bond zs Jade grew older that would lead their two man army rebellion against Eden

However Jade often ignored a lot of the red flags regarding her uncle, like his crude comments regarding women, his indifferent attitude towards people who get hurt by the pair’s rebellion plans and the odd way he remarked on Jade’s own body. All this would culminate when during a mission Pey’J would confess to being attracted to Jade , proposing to her with a ring with promises of protecting her. When Jade naturally did not want to marry the pig who literally raised her, Pey’J pushed her off a railing and let her (presumably) fall to her death

Pey’J claims to care about the humans of Eden and how badly they’ve been mistreated, which has garnered the interest of the retired hero Rayman to come to his aid in the pig’s rebellion plans. However those plans may be less about the noble desire to liberate humans from Ede’s oppression, and more so a desperate attempt at control for a man who can’t take no for an answer

[m-jelly]

Hiii could I request post war Levixreader where reader was Levi's second in command. Reader overhears Levi talking about them in an out of context way and thinks that he doesn't need her around anymore (as the war is finished) and doesn't care about her. Reader runs away and gets hurt (maybe attacked by thugs) but Levi finds them and confesses afterwards that he needs her.

Sure thing. I have had something very similar requested before, so I'm going to change it up a bit.

Relieved of duty

Pairing: Post-war Levi x Fem!Reader

Genre and tags: Canon, post-war, romance, confessions, slight angst.

Concept: Levi relieves you of duty causing a weight to be lifted. However, when you leave Levi's home you begin to feel something deep inside you that hurts. You consider your feelings and realise you are in love with your Captain. Shortly after you leave, Levi is alerted that you are at the police station after getting into a fight. Levi rushes to you and confesses how he feels.

Taglist: @ladycheesington @skittlelover69 @levisbrat25 @youre-ackermine @li-anne @nyxiieluna @notgoodforlife @galactict3a @thebobaprincess @nbinairyn @demonsimp6

You approached Levi in his wheelchair and smiled softly. "You called for me, Captain."

Levi clenched his jaw as he gazed at you. He released a long sigh and said your name. "You have been my second in command for a long time. You have been incredibly loyal to me and the scouts. You have done an impeccable job."

"Thank you, Captain."

He nodded at his thoughts. "Thank you for always being there and being loyal."

"It's an honour, Captain."

"Which is why the next part is hard to say." He let out a long sigh. He said your full name and title. "You are relieved of duty."

You felt a weight just lifted from your shoulders. You gasped and felt tears fill your eyes when you realised that it was over, it was all over. The scouts had come to an end. You slammed your fist to your chest and saluted Levi. "I dedicated my heart until the end. Thank you for having me."

"Thank you for being a part of the scouts for as long as you have."

You bowed to Levi. "I will take my leave then. Goodbye, Captain."

As you stepped out into the streets of Paradis, you felt light and free. You were happy that your job was now done. With each step you made the smile on your face slowly faded.

What now?

You stopped in your tracks as the reality of your life hit you. Being a soldier in the scouts, serving Captain Ackerman and killing titans was all you knew for years.

What now?

You gripped your chest as your heart ached. You were confused by the emotions running through you. You tried to piece it together. You knew you'd never really see your Captain again. You knew it was the end for you both. So, why did it hurt?

A group of five men spotted you under the lamplight. They inched closer as you contemplated your life. The closer they got, the closer you go to your conclusion. Your eyes widened as they surrounded you. Just before they attacked you, you realised you were in love with your Captain all this time and it hurt you knowing you could never see him again now you have been relieved of duty.

Levi put his head in his hands as his emotions overwhelmed him. He missed you terribly and wanted you back. He thought it was the right thing to do to relieve you of your duty, but he craved your presence so much. He realised he was in love with you a long time ago and knew you cared, but you were hung up on titles. He wanted to hold you, kiss you and be with you. Levi longed for you.

He frowned at a knock at his door. He rose from his wheelchair and grabbed his cane. A blush consumed his plump cheeks as he thought that it was you returning to him. He wanted it to be you so badly. He threw the door open ready to confess, but found a police officer standing before him.

Levi cleared his throat. "Can I help you?"

The officer sighed. "Captain Levi, we need you down at the station." He softly said your name and saw Levi go pale. "She was attacked by a gang of five."

"Take me to her, now!"

"Follow me."

Levi limped through the street to the station. Levi assumed the worst and you were terribly hurt. His heart was breaking at the thought of never seeing you again, that he had never told you of his love. He felt the sting of tears forming in the corner of his eyes. He was not ready to lose you yet.

"Captain?"

Levi stopped in his tracks when he saw you with a busted lip and dried blood down your chin and neck. He stumbled towards you as he whimpered your name. "You're...you're okay..."

You nodded as Levi dropped his cane and cradled your face. "I am, sir. I only took a hit to the face and cut my lip, but other than that I'm okay. The five men aren't okay, I kicked their asses."

Levi wrapped his arms around you. "I thought I lost you."

You blushed hard as your Captain hugged you. "Sir?"

"You have no idea how much you mean to me." He clung to you. "I'd be lost without you. You're my everything."

"Sir..."

He tapped his forehead against yours. "I love you."

Your eyes widened. "You...really?"

"I do."

You closed your eyes and smiled a little. "I must confess, I too have come to realise that after all these years I am in love with you. I've loved you for a very long time."

Levi held your hands and smiled. "Let's go home, to our home." He lightly kissed you. "If you want."

You smiled as your heart skipped a beat. "Yes, Levi."

Levi blushed hard. "My name sounds so nice on your lips."

[aita-blorbos]

(tw for murder, drug abuse and alcohol abuse mentions)

Aita for killing my teammates?

Ok I know this sounds bad but hear me out. I (f16) am the captain of the cheer squad, and I killed two of my fellow cheerleaders (both f16) but you know, i had REASONS to do so.

I want to go to regionals, those two are making our team worse, one of them I've never seen sober and the other has kicked us out of competition for taking too many fucking pills, they can't compete like that, and wouldn't leave the squad.

The others were fine, I just needed to take them a little further. Reason why I killed those two in a sleepover at my house.

Another guy ended up dead too, I don't even know how he got there, he was the boyfriend of one of my girls and honestly i did not invite nor kill him, I didn't know he was at my house until he was dead, whatever, sure this wont affect her perfomance.

The other girls blamed the freshmen, who was drunk because they didn't want the police investigation and fine, that wasn't even my idea but the freshmen was PROMISING in the squad.

But then I have another sleepover because these girls CAN NOT CONCENTRATE anymore, like hello the distractions are gone? And they start arguing over who did it, I do confess on it and im writing this from jail but I can not believe they send a girl to prison, and forgive the girl who killed the boyfriend (sure it was an accident she says but still it was for HER benefit) but when I kill two people for THEIR OWN GOOD they blame me. So, AITA?

[damagnificentcookie]

Lillian Maximoff, if you see this please come back to tumblr 😓😓😓😥😥

Like a couple years ago I was in the MCU fandom and my favorite fanfic writer was this blog user named “Lillian Maximoff”

She wrote like a ton of Peggy and Dottie x reader fanfics and it was my absolute favorite and I would always re read it

Like a few I remember was like called “4 rings” and it was about this immortal goddess from Asgard married to Peggy but took captains place and went to the new world, married Wanda, but she dissapeared during the snap and moved on and married Natasha but she died and brought everyone back (Wanda created westview because reader moved on from her and she went crazy) and then married Maria who thought she was gonna leave her to go back to Peggy but she didn’t, but Ms girl wears all her rings around her neck. Like that was so GOOOODDDD.

Another one of my favs I could never forget was this Dottie X Reader where Dottie bumped into reader and immediately became smitten with her and like would do anything (illegal) to get reader to notice her. And I think she sent a letter to SHEILD asking reader for a dance and reader immediately knew who sent it and Peggy told her to be careful and to go to the dance to capture her but reader was also in love and didn’t wanna do that but Peggy convinced her too so she did and went to the dance where Dottie was waiting for her. Dottie was seriously so happy because she didn’t think reader would show and confessed her love to her while holding her tightly and dancing and reader was like sobbing because it was a set up and then the SHEILD came in and captured Dottie and she was crying with betrayal because all she wanted was her girl. But Peggy felt extremely bad from how sad reader was so she went to talk to Dottie in the back of the police truck to find her there sobbing because she genuinely loved reader and Peggy gave her a cup of water and slid her a Bobby pin for her to escape and then left. Reader was baking cookies and Dottie visited her with her hair dyed and then they made out. I LOVED THAT ONE SHOT SO MUCH AHHH

There were a few more of my favorites but I didn’t remember those as much, like I think there were a story called Two red hats with Peggy and Dottie sharing reader. They wrote also a lot of different other fandoms and other MCU characters but I remembered those cause it was impactful for me 😔😔

BUT PLEASE POOKIE COME BACK WE MISS YOU 😔😔😔 WHY DID YOU DELETE TUMBLR AND AO3333

[rebelliousstories]

Safe In Your Arms

Relationship: David Loki x Reader

Fandom: Prisoners

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Dark Themes, Crimes Against Children, Anxiety, Strong Language

Word Count: 2,100

Masterlist: Here

Jake Gyllenhaal & Co. Masterlist: Here

Summary: Loki hasn’t been home in days; no problem.

Letting out a deep sigh, a man sat at his desk and ran his hands through his hair harshly. His tattoos looked dull against his skin form lack of sleep, nutrition, and well, sunlight. He let his phone ring for the 3rd time that hour; the hour that he was suppose to be home. In all honesty, he was suppose to be home several hours ago but this current case was hitting him hard. Child cases were always the roughest for him. They reminded him of the past he tried so hard to be better than.

“Loki!” Another sigh. David looked up to see his captain walking closer to him with that stupid look on his face.

“We got that suspect in custody. Picked up for a traffic violation, can ya believe it? Anyways, he’s all yours. Room two.” This was just what he needed when his body was screaming for rest. The interrogation was cold, but it helped keep both detective and suspect awake through the grueling process. Two hours had gone by and nothing. He was getting absolutely nothing from the guy. The frustration had long since creeped in; all he wanted was a confession. Loki knew the man was guilty. There were too many eyewitnesses that placed this man with the kids, too many stories from the children they were able to get released. He was about as guilty as anyone could get, but without the lab results coming back or a confession, the man would walk.

“What’d you do to those boys, Steve?” Loki had moved to crowding the man in the corner. He never touched him, but he made sure to stay in his bubble. Steve didn’t look the detective in the eyes as he cowered in the corner of the interrogation room. All through the questioning, Steve had maintained that he did nothing, but Loki knew different. Growing up in the way that he did; it gave him a unique perspective on types of people. The horrors of the boys home he grew up in left scars that he would never be rid of, but they helped in these situations.

“I didn’t do anything. You got the wrong guy. I only cared for those boys; I didn’t do anything wrong.” The man cried as he shook in the corner. He cowered away from Loki, trying to keep as much distance between the two as possible. David’s eyes blinked rapidly, and he let out a deep sigh. He stepped away, and watched as Steve visibly relaxed. His hands stopped shaking, his body too. Steve’s eyes darted quickly around the room and over Loki’s figure, like a scared, cornered animal. He made a mad rush for Loki and both of them fell to the floor. Grappling, and trying to get dominance, the men were caught in a power struggle. David finally managed to get his hands up to where he could grab Steve’s shoulders. He brought his knee up and connected to his gut. The assailant groaned in pain and fell to the floor, while Loki moved around and got his cuffs on the man.

“Wrong move, asshole.” Loki hauled the man up and shoved him down in the seat while the door to the room opened. Two uniformed police officers moved in to help subdue the man, and get him properly detained. Steve started to laugh as the chain was attached to the cuffs, and the bar on the table, which caused David to stop before his hand reached the handle of the door. Confused, the detective turned back to look at the man.

“What?” Steve continued to laugh to himself. Loki moved closer and placed his hands on the tabletop.

“What the fuck’s so funny?” Slowly, Steve laughter dwindled down. He took just a moment to collect himself before he leaned forward and spoke quietly. So quietly, that Loki was doubting if he said anything at all.

“You. Big, bad, Detective David Loki. Rising up and leaving that boys home. Huntington, right? Shame it closed down. Those boys were so cared for. Just like these boys are,” Steve leaned even closer, and stood up to be eye level with Loki, “you won’t make it stick. I’ll walk out of here without any charges and you’ll obsess over this case. Those boys love me, and they won’t speak out against anyone at the home. They know what will happen.” With that, the man sat down and smiled. He stared Loki down, while his mind tried to wrap itself around the situation. Loki mirrored Steve and got close to his face to where they shared the same breath.

“I will make this stick. Those boys are terrified of you; that’s not love. And you know what, I’ll put you away on child charges which will be great for you in prison. And once I’ve gotten you, I’ll get everyone else that allowed that to happen in the boys home. I will make sure that happens.” David turned and left the room swiftly, ignoring Steve’s calls of his name. The whole ordeal made his head swim and not in the way that he liked. Everything was too much; too bright, too loud, too smelly, too itchy. His steps to his desk may have looked confident, but inside he was crumbling down.

He held his head in his hands and took deep breaths, trying so desperately not to fly off the handle. The noise around him muddled into pure white noise, and his eyes slipped shut. Saliva started to pool in his mouth as his heart dropped. He could feel himself get sick and want to throw up, but he pushed it down. If he could just make it through this day, this case; he could reward himself with a night in with his wife. That would be lovely. But what if she was planning on leaving him because of his work schedule? He was never home, but he tried to make it home in time for dinner. It didn’t always work but every dinner he missed, would just be a chance at asking it up to her. She truly had that patience of a saint but was it enough. Thoughts ran wild in his head, as he tuned out the outside world.

“Dave? David? Honey, are you alright?” A hand waved in front of his vision. Startling himself back into his chair, he slowly calmed down. She was here. His darling wife. In her hands were several bags that each had smells galore coming from them. Blinking a few times, Loki stood up abruptly from his desk and grabbed on of the bags out of her hands, and grabbed her wrist to lead her through the station. She never questioned where he was leading her, trusting him to make the decisions he needed to. David led his wife into an empty conference room and dumped the food on the table. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into him, immediately putting his nose in her neck. The strain hurt beyond belief, but the comfort trumped the pain in his neck.

Breathe in, hold, breathe out. The routine that he had developed over the last few decades, now had the added component of being in his wife’s arms. Her hands came up and stroked through his dark hair gently. Careful not to tug, she stood on her tiptoes to make it easier for her husband to decompress. She tried to follow his breathing, which helped keep her calm.

“Rough case?” She felt him nod into her neck. Mrs. Loki realized early on that if David was this worked up, it was best to ask him yes or no questions as forming words would lead to a complete breakdown.

“Can you eat a little something please? That will help the sick feeling in your stomach right now.” David nodded again, knowing that his wife had witnessed this before and knew the signs. She led him over to the chairs nearby and gently dropped him in one, before placing herself in one right next to his. His hands stayed on her while she dished out the meal she had prepared for the both of them. David’s eyes were unfocused but he tried to keep them on her. His head like it was floating upside down. Swimming in the negative emotions that were there, and repressed memories that had resurfaced after years of trying to keep them buried.

“Here, honey. Small bites, okay? Think you can do small bites?” The fork was transferred to his hand after she cut up the meat in the box. As David got pulled back to reality, his wife tried to keep him eating and listening. She even went as far as to take over when his fork slipped from his unclenched hand, and feed him small bites of meat and rice. Slowly but surely, David was finally able to make out his wife’s face and voice clearly. When she noticed the switch, her smile softened as her heart swelled.

“Hey, honey. You okay now?” David nodded and went to go eat more food, but noticed that it was all gone. They must have finished their meals while he was zoned out.

“Thank you for this. Just a… rough case. A really fucking rough case.” He muttered quietly, looking down at his hands. He grabbed hers as well and toyed with the wedding ring he had put there years ago. The little ‘DL’ on her finger was barely visible with the bands blocking the view.

“No need to thank me. No matter what it is, I’ll be there for you. And I know that whatever case your on, no matter how hard, you’ll solve it. You’ll take on the full weight of the case, not accept practically anyone’s help, and you won’t come home for days on end because you’ll sleep in one of the cells so you’re close in case you’re needed. And then you’ll come home once you’ve solved it, and we’re going to have a nice dinner where you tell me about how you knew it was the right person all along. Then, we’ll go to bed in each others arms. When we wake up the next morning, we’ll do the cycle all over again.” David looked into her eyes as she concluded her mini speech. It may not have been the most inspirational and uplifting, but to him, it meant the world. His face cracked into a rare, genuine smile as he leaned in closer to his wife. Pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, it quickly turned into a full lip lock as the couple reached up to grab the other’s face.

“Thank you.” Loki whispered as he pulled away. He was a man of few, emotional words, but he always believed that actions spoke louder than words could ever. His lover just patted his cheek and pulled away, starting to stow away the boxes that held their lunches and drinks.

“Of course, honey. It’s what I’m here for. Now, do you need anything else before you get back to your case, detective Loki?” She said, teasingly. Her hands were suddenly free from the bags as David walked closer and grabbed her hips.

“Maybe one more kiss?” His question was near silent, just like his partners answer. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she guided his head towards hers. The instant their lips touched again, David felt his body relax, and the tension leave.

Soon, she had to leave, as work called both of them away from each other. While David sat at his desk, his mind wandered. This case was going to be hard on him; that was certain. Child cases were hard on anyone, but he had to keep trying. No one helped him when he was their age. No one came to his rescue except his own self. But if he could help these boys be better than him, that would be a win in his books. David’s personal phone buzzed on the table in front of him.

There’s going to be meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and veggies for dinner tonight if you come home. Love you <3

It was difficult to curb the smile that threatened to overtake his face. He only allowed a small smile to peak through before returning his face to neutral. Maybe he should go home and sleep in his own bed tonight. It might help to give him a fresh set of eyes. Yeah, that was what he needed. To fall asleep in the arms of his wife, where he was safe.

It was difficult to curb the smile that threatened to overtake his face. He only allowed a small smile to peak through before returning his face to neutral. Maybe he should go home and sleep in his own bed tonight. It might help to give him a fresh set of eyes. Yeah, that was what he needed. To fall asleep in the arms of his wife, where he was safe.