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jangofctts · 4 years

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Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are.

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that?

Not much, as it so happens.

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding—

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail.

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought.

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in.

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics.

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…

So you ran.

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.

Maker—how did everything become so tangled?

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out.

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift.

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground.

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and—

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times.

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving.

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz.

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now.

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.

“No more bounties.”

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.

“No more hunts alone—“

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.”

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire.

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond.

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails.

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble.

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night.

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over.

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits.

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you.

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow.

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.”

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous.

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh.

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?”

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers.

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling.

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal.

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you.

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now.

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"

He continues without missing a beat.

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck. “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity.

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly.

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.

Maker you hate this fucking planet—

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up.

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar—

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.

You were right.

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand.

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants.

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought.

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath.

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward.

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance.

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips.

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.”

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up.

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you.

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips.

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.”

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug.

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.

Another time for that game maybe.

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you.

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.”

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works.

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.”

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind.

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things.

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim.

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss.

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue.

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?”

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent.

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat.

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches.

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been.

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#din is a certified bottom #ANYWAY welcome to pound town #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader x paz vizla #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #star wars #sw #fanfiction #sw fanfiction #my writing #are you in or out?

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noritoshiikamo · 4 years

Text

this is how you fall in love

pairing: kuroo tetsuroo + fem!oc genre: friends into lovers fluff with slight suggestive end tags//warning: nothing major // slight suggestive at the end if you squint enough note: the obligatory trio of mine: not well edited, lowercase intended, english isnt my first language im sorry if i murder it. o wow look ive been posting back to back, ive been writing nonstop lately watch me ghost my stories in few weeks guys my brain = rotting, plus lately ive been feeling emotionally abuseddrained so i need something fluffy

listen to this is how you fall in love by jeremy zucker + chelsea cutler for maximum feels

“you’re a lifesaver.”

kuroo huffed, eyes rolling back with a small laugh as he unlaced his sneakers and slipped the room slipper on. it was odd to see the gymnasium without any nets or balls sprawled around. the gym has been closed for a week now in preparation for the upcoming open school event and currently under the art club’s jurisdiction. under her jurisdiction with her canvases and paints and it pained him to see her ruining his sacred place. he carried two plastic bags and holding two boba teas in the same hand. he wasn’t sure which one she was more excited for; the boba, the paints she made him ran to an art supply shop or him. she reached out, the bobas in his hand exchanged as she settled it on the floor, and she squealed at the sight of the plastic bag. he frowned.

yup, not him.

tins of different colors of paint that she ran out mid painting that she forgot to buy had her dialing his number and now it’s all here. all thanks to kuroo tetsuro. she grimaced at the price tags; it was costly than her usual one. usually, she would’ve gotten her supplies online, but desperate measure calls for desperate solution. she could always claim her expenses with the club. typical kuroo, she huffed. he always preached about getting the best, not minding the price tags but she’ll be the victim of his nonstop complaining that he’s getting broke every single day. she tucked a stray hair back and mentally counted how much she owed the man as she arranged the tins on the table.

kuroo noticed that look; same look she had when they are in the math class and he clicked his tongue, “tch, you’re not paying.”

“i’m reimbursing you with the club money,” she shook her head and reached for her bag, “please kuroo, it’s so expensive.”

he reached for her wrist and she dropped the tote bag as he invaded her space. kuroo rested the palm of her hand right above his heart, his own around the waist and another under her chin as he tilted her chin up. his heartbeat was erratic, and she flushed. “it’s okay,” he said, softly. her lips formed into a small pout and he fought the urge to just kiss her.

their dynamic is something even kenma couldn’t figure it out.

they weren’t exactly dating. they are friends, close friends, and classmates. it has always been him, her and occasionally yaku; creating the chaotic duo/trio of class 5. they both played volleyballs, both captains while he’s the middle blocker, she’s their female team’s setter. they knew a lot of each other’s friends from other schools; he was the reason why she dated akaashi keiji from the first place. it was selfish of kuroo to admit to bokuto a month after they started dating that he disliked the idea of them together. typical kuroo is no longer snarky, he felt lost, felt like he was losing his other half. so, he confided to his close friend, the simpleton ace.

“you didn’t make any moves, kuroo, you can’t blame them.”

bokuto noted as them both stared at the two setters, playing around the fallen cherry blossoms. bokuto never seen akaashi smiled that much and kuroo could only wished that she smiled the same way to him. kuroo stared at the half bitten onigiri he’d been holding, suddenly every bite he took tasted bitter. every trace of akaashi on her gave him bitter taste. she liked wearing akaashi’s jersey; kuroo longed to see her in his own numbered jersey; she’s his number one after all. her own jersey number is as same as akaashi. it’s not like kuroo could hate anything he did; he treated her well. akaashi was a perfect boyfriend and everyone knew. that’s why kuroo hates him; he gave him no reason to hate the dude. it didn’t last long however, they drifted apart 6 months later, sending her to kuroo’s doorstep soaked in rain.

he stared at her soaked figure with no thoughts in mind.

“he dumped me,” she said, voice hoarse and shivering.

he was alone and was about to leave for kenma’s, but he couldn’t leave her alone. dropping his keys on the small table by the door, he threw his jacket back in the closet. “come in,” he whispered, pulling her figure in. dropping her bag on the floor, she clutched on his sleeves as she kicked off her soaking shoes. “i’m sorry, my mom isn’t home and i can’t find my keys,” she was a blabbering mess and he hushed her. he left her for a few minutes, coming back with a steaming towel and a clean shirt and pants. “it’s from the dryer. you can borrow my sister’s clothes,” grabbing her hands, they ran upstairs where he took her to the bathroom. she was too quiet, so he called her name. when she looked up to him, her eyes were red. she was no longer crying, more confused and upset. her cheeks flushed and he could see her teeth chattering. he wished nothing but to throw his fist at the man. finally, he got a reason to square up the stoic man; he always hates the way nothing could riled up akaashi.

“he’s stupid for doing you like this.”

she shook her head, “it’s nobody’s fault.”

“then stop blaming yourself,” he ruffled her hair, a small smile appeared from the corner of her lips as she watched him disappeared closing the door behind him. he left her with the hot water running, urgently grabbing the mop and bucket from the kitchen, and wiping the trail of her soaked feet has left before it could ruin the wooden floor.

cant come over, busy, ill tell u later

kuroo texted kenma. the pudding head left him on read.

they spend the night together, sitting on the floor with pillows pilling against the end of the bed as they sat in arms. he had his tv opened to one of the late-night game show. they sat in silence, her head rested on his shoulder and her lips pressed into a tiny line. at the corner of his eyes, he could see her phone’s notifications blaring despite being on mute. the number isn’t saved but it was familiar. she deleted his number already, probably out of rage, but it’s a good step.

tell me where you want me to drop your stuff im sorry i hope youre okay y/n? i heard it was storming did you make it back home? give me a call im calling you okay?

just as like what the message stated, the unknown number called her. it startled her which startled him too. she stared down on the screen, he noticed the grip on the phone and wondered how the phone did not break yet. “can you answer it for me?” she said, holding the phone out to the black-haired man. shocked, he took the phone and pressed the green button. he pressed the phone to his ear and heard her name being called.

“hey man,” kuroo cleared his throat, “listen-”

“she’s with you?” the voice- akaashi asked.

looking down on the girl who was pretending to not have any interest in the call at all, eyes focused on the gameshow, kuroo sighed.

“she is. listen, i think you should leave her alone.”

“kuroo, i know about your feelings. for her. bokuto-san told me about it. if you think that this is the proper way to get her when she’s vulne-”

kuroo bit the inside of his cheeks. he was offended that akaashi dared to call him out like that. “so, what? she made her pick,” the girl turned to face him, brows up wondering what they are talking about.

“that’s low, even for you, kuroo-san.”

their eyes met. he didn’t even realize how deep the cut on his palm where he had balled his fingers into a fist until she touched it. he calmed down. “you hurt her. you have no right to say what’s low or not. be a bigger man, leave her alone,” he muttered flatly, before ending the call. they didn’t break eye contact until he realized what he had done.

“i-i shouldn’t have done that.”

she shook her head, “stop blaming yourself,” a small smile on her face.

that was 3 months ago.

kuroo had made moving on easy for her. akaashi and her remained friendly, although kuroo noticed that she tended to avoid him when possible. the breakup was indeed mutual, but merely on the fact that he lost feelings. akaashi had fallen out of love with her and in love with some other girl but who was she to judge when she was falling in love with the rooster head in silence. they still hang out with bokuto and akaashi but rarely with the latter.

she made him apologized to the fukurodani’s setter too and they remained on friendly term, still practiced together whenever they have training camps together where akaashi had admitted one training night that kuroo and her looks better together. kuroo didn’t say anything, not that he knew what to reply to that (his mind scream fuck yeah we do) but shrugged at his statement. “i guess dating her made you less pain in the ass, kuroo-san,” akaashi joked as they resumed the game.

kuroo was pulled back to reality when he felt his lips brushed against something. his eyes widened when he realized what it was. a quick kiss from her. he blinked frantically, trying to comprehend what had just happened which caused the girl to laugh. “did you just?” he asked confused by what had just happened which she nodded. she bit her bottom lip to hold herself from bursting into a laugh. “god, you should see your face. it’s so stupid. and every girl called you the playboy captain huh?”

he huffed and rolled his eyes, “i am not. i’ve been loyal to one girl for many years now, she is the one who hasn’t notice me at all,” he faked his pout, refused to look her directly in the eyes, praying that she wouldn’t notice his reddening cheeks.

“she must’ve been so stupid,” she teased, her nose rubbing gently against his jawline as she rested her figure against his closer. his chin rested against her head.

“she is,” he looked down on her, his arms around her waist tighter, “i don’t think she knows this but if she leaves me, i think i’ll be so broken inside. is it selfish to say that?” a small frown appeared on her face.

“i don’t think she ever talked about leaving you.”

a grin grew on his face, “so you know who i’m talking about huh?” she fell into his trap. she rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out, calling him stupid. he studied her face, his grin softened into what yaku and his volleyball team called the kuroo is stupidly in love with y/n but refused to admit face. his fingers ran into her hair which she had been growing out in few months down to her shoulder because she thinks that he likes her better that way. the way she tried to subtly put on make up to look better that the other girls who’s shamelessly flirting with him. she was too stupid to realize that he had loved her beyond that.

he loves the rough pads on her hands from holding her paintbrushes and volleyball. he loves that she works hard for everything she’s doing be it studying, volleyball or arts, she would put her blood, sweat and tears into it. he loves that she would wait for him to buy lunch so they can eat together in class. he would buy her a box of milk which she insisted that she doesn’t need too; but he convinced it would be good for her. he wants the best for her.

he loves that all the missing clothes he’s complaining about is in the back of her closet or on her. his cream hoodie hanging behind her closet door, his random pile of t-shirts in a basket on the floor of her closet that he liked to left beside the mix pile of her shoes and his one big ass nike shoes. her room isn’t messy, it is because she kept the messiness in her closet. she also like to keep random stuff of him too. the one medal he won from a science fair hung on the headboard of her bed, the misshapen looking hand wax sculpture of their hands intertwined from a funfair where she rested a purikura of them on it and a lucky bamboo plant he gave on her birthday to compromise on the no gift rule.

“for luck,” he grinned.

unlike hers, he kept her item neatly in his drawer. your spare shirts that he borrowed and refused to return, extra towel and her toiletries, some of her drawing blocks and a small cat shaped pouch where she kept her allergies medication. mostly hidden because his annoying friends come over often and would accidentally talk about it in front of his grandparents. but, on his bedside table, he has a cup of pencils by the bed where he collected the art supplies she left behind, random markers and paintbrushes, a clay sculpture of a trinket plate she made from art club (she carved a tiny letter k in the corner beside the obvious looking genitalia drawing) and a fake plant which she was sure he will not be able to kill it.

he loves it when she wore his jersey. he lost his mind when he found out that her current season number is the same as his. he’s in love. the first time he saw her in his jersey, the number one jersey on her body was during their training. he lost concentration; mouth hung a bit. he got so flustered that he let lev served the ball straight to his head. usually, lev would be dead by now, but he doesn’t mind. his nose bled but to see her kneel beside him, clutching on his own shirt screaming how stupid he is, wiping the blood away with towel, he could only say how pretty she looked. all his teammates were startled, her included. she clutched on his collar angrily; her knees stung from when she leaped down to his side, but this idiot could only smile at her with a bloody nose. “you are fucking idiot,” she cried out angrily, pushing him away before throwing the towel on his face leaving the pleased third year laying on the floor.

he loves the way she would find a way to impress him, be it as ridiculous as the halloween costume idea she had where they’ll go as the front and end of a horse or as serious as the submitted college application to the same university he had gotten into. “you are not getting rid of me that easily, tetsu,” the evil look on her face as she clicked the submit button send shivers down his spine.

“if you leave, i think i’ll cry,” he confessed, his smile slowly died.

“kuroo tetsuro is going to cry after me?” she teased. he nodded eagerly. “does kuroo tetsuro realized that we are literally moving into the same university? i couldn’t catch a break from him,” she faked her annoyance which he playfully avenged by sending her on the floor laughing as he tickled her. tears trickled down her cheeks as she begged him to stop, screaming to get away from his grip. “please, kuroo, i’m going to pee if you don’t stop!” he obliged, tears prickled the corner of his own eyes from laughing too much. straddling her waist, he gathered her wrists in one hand over her head. “apologize and said that kuroo tetsuro is the best man in your life or i swear i’ll make you pee,” he threatened her playfully, wiggling the fingers of his free hand close to her waist. her eyes widened in fears.

“that’s not fair!”

“apologize first.”

“fine!” she pouted, “i’m sorry, i won’t make fun of you again. now get off me!”

he raised his eyebrow, “andddd?”

“annddd-” a teasing smile appeared on her face as she said the next 5 words that send him to mars and back; “i love you kuroo tetsuro.”

he froze in shock. he heard the words before but never in this way; never for him.

finally, i think i got the calculation, love you yaku! lev you’re adorable but so stupid, i love it! thank you for letting me borrow your game, kenma. you’re the best, love ya!

the grip on her wrists loosened. taking advantage of his shock state, she pushed him back, straddling him by the waist, pinning his own hands above his head, giving him the taste of his own medicine. “i’m not going to leave your sorry ass, tetsu. i hope you don’t regret it,” she leaned down, capturing his lips with a longer kiss. letting go of his wrist, her hand went immediately into his rooster hair while another cupped his cheek, deepening their kiss. she could feel his cold palm resting against her bare waist and she shuddered. between the kisses, he heard her whispering his name. “kuroo, do you love me too?” she asked so innocently with kisses between the words but the way she grabbed a handful of his hand in a fist felt so dirty, eliciting a strangled moan from the back of his throat. she pulled back, staring down on his eyes as his lips moved.

“i love you too.”

nothing in his hazel eye but sincerity. he groaned when she pulled herself out of his reach, missing her warm body as she laughed. straightening her sweater back, pulling her hair back up into a tighter ponytail before she picked up the paintbrush she dropped. the paintbrush left a white stain on the court. as if kuroo wasn’t here, whimpering underneath her a minute ago, she continued her work. “i need to finish the mural by this week and you’re not exactly helping me,” she warned him, pointing the wet brush his direction. through the corner of her eyes, he was propped on his elbows, still staring at her, causing her to blush profusely. it annoyed him that she would tease him, then leaving him high and dry. before she could crack open the new paint tin, he ignored her warning as he tackled her back into his arms.

breathless against her lips, he told her to continue later. the urgency and rawness of his voice made her putty immediately. looking up the man, she pouted her lips.

“kuroo-san,” she whined as he captured her bottom lips.

he elicited a soft moan from the girl. he grinned against her lips. a hand rested firmly beside her head while another snaked under the sweater. there will be bruise tomorrow, she was sure of it, he will make sure of it.

“it will be quick, baby. i promise.”

she has no objection.

#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro imagine #haikyuu x reader #hq #haikyuu #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro fluff #haikyuu x y/n #kuroo tetsurou x reader #writing: hq #writing: fics

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euphoriara · 4 years

Text

By Your Side

you turned up with casual clothing the next day. and the first time he saw you with normal clothing, he could only stare with his mouth agape, like a fish out of water. you look smaller with the oversized sweatshirt, hair styled naturally instead of the usual professional look you go for. you're also slightly shorter since you forego the boots you usually wear for a pair of comfortable sneakers. the only thought that ran through his head at the time was "find you a woman who can do both."

alternatively

you just want to get your job done, but it seems like jungkook is determined to get in your way (and steal a spot in your heart in the process).

pairing: jungkook x bodyguard!reader

genre: action, fluff, tiny pieces of angst sprinkled throughout, bodyguard!au

word count: 22k

warnings: swearing, violence, weapons, abduction, implied/reference to sleeping pills, politics. (it sounds like a lot but it's not too much, promise. they're mostly at the first half of the story)

a/n: ahahahaha hey, i deleted the first part and decided to re-upload it as one part bc posting the second part was giving me a headache so here it is as a one piece instead. apologies to the people who read it before, there was like 7, im sorry lol. hope you can find it again since the first part left at a cliffhanger im so sorry. i still suck at summary but like at this point who's surprised anymore. but here it is, the longest thing ive ever written probably. to the people reading, thank you for giving it a chance, i appreciate it a whole lot, have a good day!

the cold air causes jungkook to nuzzle deeper into his sweatshirt, pulling up the hood to maintain his body temperature. outside of the convenience store, the busy street has started to wind down, only a few stragglers walking home from a long day at work. he pulls up his mask to cover more of his face, gripping the bag of snacks tighter to his body before opening the door.

when he steps outside, he's too busy ruffling through his snacks to realize there's someone sitting at the plastic chair in front of the store, who quickly stood up when they saw him making his way out. it isn't until he feels the slightest press of cold metal against his back that he realizes something is definitely wrong.

"just pretend like nothing's going on, walk normally and i won't hurt you." the girl is just as tall as him, whispering the muffled threat right into his ear so nobody else can hear it. from outside perspective, it might look like just two friends catching up with each other, with the girl having an arm slung over his shoulder from behind while her other hand concealed a dagger behind his back.

he quickly schools his expression into a mask of calm, though his mind is racing with how to escape this situation. he follows her instructions when she subtly shoves a knee to his thigh, signaling him to walk with her. "if you want money, i can give it to you right now. don't hurt me, i promise i won't tell anyone."

the girl scoffs next to his ear, "be quiet, I'm not letting you go. just listen to me and you won't get hurt. i said that already."

jungkook tries to hide the tremble in his hand by holding the bags tighter, nodding in response because he's too scared to talk. he's worried if he does try to talk, a sob might escape.

the girl shifts so she's walking by his side, arm with the weapon now wrapped around his waist, playing into the illusion of a couple taking a walk together.

unfortunately for jungkook, they didn't encounter anyone on their walk. nobody that he can signify to ask for help.

she leads him into an alleyway, and that's when jungkook's legs start to shake as well, causing him to lag behind. fear starts to course through his veins faster, heart beating a mile a minute.

he sees the girl raises one of her perfect eyebrow, eyes impassively staring at him. the rest of her face is concealed with a mask, just like him and she wears a baseball hat to hide the rest of her hair. "for fuck sake, i told you already I'm not gonna hurt you. you don't have to worry about your pretty little face, alright?" her tone is annoyed, patience clearly running out and jungkook just nods, afraid he might set her off if he doesn't.

he will himself to walk normally again when he sees another person emerges from one of the dark corners of the alley. a male and he's holding a gun, he realizes right away. he can't help himself when he audibly gulps at the sight of the weapon, fear rooting him in his place, unable to move.

"don't worry, he's just a precaution so you won't try to run away. we're not stupid." the girl tries to reassure him but all he could think about is the gun that the male has shoved into his jacket pocket.

they walk by his side now, and with the assurance of a gun, the girl pulls back her knife and shoves it into her pants pocket. jungkook tries to will his mind into coming up with a plan, but he's too scared to try anything with a threat of a gun next to him.

he scans his surrounding area, but couldn't find any loophole for him to make his escape. they eventually make it into the other side of the road where a black SUV is waiting. she opens the door of the car and gestures with her head, "get in."

he hesitates in his steps, if he climbs inside, there might not be a chance to escape anymore.

"i said get in, I'm not asking again." he feels the press of a gun on his lower back and decides to listen. he climbs into the car where somebody is already waiting at the driver seat. another person is sitting next to him, possibly to prevent him from jumping out of the car.

the male from before hops in next to him, while the girl climbs into the passenger seat in front.

he takes the down time to memorize details, not that there's many, since everyone in the car, including him are wearing a mask to cover their face and a hat, and have their hood up. each person only reveals a sliver of their eyes, hair hidden away by the hood of their jackets, and hands covered with leather gloves. their whole person is covered by clothing, making sure no skin is exposed.

when the car starts pulling out of the side of the road, the person next to him dangles a black cloth in front of his face. "now jeon jungkook, we need to cover your eyes and tied up your hands to make sure you don't become a loose ends." he faces the girl next to him, her voice is deceptively sweet and jungkook can't tell if she's faking it or not. despite not being able to see her face, he knows she's smiling from the way her eyes crinkle and the revelation brought a shiver up his spine.

the driver chuckles, causing jungkook to whip his head to stare at them on the reflection of the mirror.

they made a brief eye contact when the person looks back, holding his gaze in curiosity before his vision becomes dark.

he feels the male next to him shift, taking the bag from his trembling hands and tying his wrists with a cloth. he gives it a few tugs and when he's satisfied, he moves back to rest against the seat. "don't worry 'bout your snacks, pretty boy. I'll keep them safe." his voice is deep, raspy, amusement clear as day.

he drawled out his words, a clear sign that he's relaxed. jungkook thinks it's unrelatable.

the whole ride was silent, except for the music playing from the radio. jungkook tries his best to listen to his surroundings in hopes of being able to find clues of where they're taking him. but alas, the sound of the music is loud enough to drown out any other noises. he tries to focus on the direction of the car, tracing it inside his mind from the starting point when he got into the car.

however, it seems like his captors knew this because jungkook can tell they've been driving aimlessly for the past 20 minutes or so. it's not until 10 minutes later jungkook hears the difference in the road they're driving. briefly, the car drove through gravels before smoothly going back to pavement. and then going back to driving through dirt road.

at this point, jungkook has lost any sense of direction and has no idea where he is and where they're taking him, so he slumps against the seat, trying to come up with something else. he doesn't know what they want with him.

well, he does have an inkling about what they want.

another 10 minutes later, and the car finally stop. he hears the door being opened and closed, feels the people next to him climb out of the vehicle. except, he stays rooted to his spot, not knowing what to do since nobody instructed him to get out.

then, a hand reaches out to him, causing him to flinch when he feels someone grabbing his arm. "chill, it's me, come on. get out." it's the guy from before, tugging him by his sweatshirt.

he feels the gravel beneath his shoes which turn into soft grass after a few steps. when he steps inside the building, the first thing he notices is the smell. smell of old, rotting wood and dust.

somebody yanks the black cloth off his head, revealing an old empty warehouse with a chair in the middle. that's where he'll be spending his time, he guesses.

he hears the crinkling of his bag from the side, looking to see the guy from before dumping his snacks into the table next to the window. "minhee, tie him to the chair. I'm just gonna take a look at his taste in snacks."

the girl who threatened him steps forward, shoving him in the direction of the chair. "sit here, pretty boy."

the driver from before brushes past his side before he got the chance to move, murmuring, "please don't worry. we're not gonna hurt you. i promise." oddly enough, jungkook believes her.

after the reassurance from someone he doesn't even know, he complies with the girl, that he now know as minhee. for the first time in the last hour, jungkook finally opens his mouth. "are you not worried about revealing your name like that?"

minhee raises her eyebrow and scoffs, husky voice laced with amusement, "if it's not safe then do you think he'd have said it?" she yanks the rope around his wrist harshly, "i told you, we're not stupid." she doesn't elaborate, not like jungkook was expecting her to.

"haeun, did you queue the message?" she turns to look at the girl who sat next to him, the one with the terrifyingly sweet voice. a cheery voice replies from somewhere in the warehouse, "yup! all set. he'll receive the message first thing in the morning!"

"and did you take care of any possible recording or evidence?" he sees the guy opening one of his chips, turning away from him to pull down his mask to pop a few into his mouth. his voice sounds clearer without the barrier of the mask.

the sweet one, haeun, scoffs, "what do you think of me, yoongi? an amateur?" he sees yoongi shrugs, "I'm just making sure. no need to be salty 'bout it."

jungkook is thoroughly confused, why are they using their name so freely like that? are they not worried he'll tell authority about them? though judging from what minhee said, they have reasons to not be worried. he wonders what that means.

a new voice pipes up from one of the doorways, the girl who drove the SUV. she's the one that hasn't had a name associated with her yet. "yoongi, don't forget to feed him and give him some water."

yoongi turns around, mask now back in place, and frowns. he sighs loudly before grabbing a container and a water bottle from a bag he didn't notice before. "I don't understand why I'm stuck with the babysitting duty."

"oh shut up, all you gotta do is feed the kid. it's not that hard of a job." minhee snarks from where she's sitting near the window, eyes glued at the phone in her hand.

"the kid's hands are tied, how's he gonna eat and drink?" yoongi ignores her, making his way in front of jungkook. "i told you, you feed him." driver says, clearly amused at the way yoongi grumbles and complains.

begrudgingly, yoongi opens the bottle and tilts it towards jungkook, telling him wordlessly to drink. obviously, jungkook hesitates. what if the drink is poisoned?

the driver answers his question without him having to voice it out loud, "it's not poisoned. we're just trying to keep you away from dehydration and starvation."

he looks up at yoongi, who has one dark eyebrow raised in question, before deciding to trust her again. seeing how they have kept their promise of not hurting him, he doesn't see why he can't accept the food and water.

yoongi makes him finish the whole bottle of water before feeding him pieces of kimbap. offhandedly, he thinks the kimbap is delicious. so much so that he's tempted to ask his captors where they got them from before resisting the urge to open his mouth and make a fool out of himself.

when he's done eating, yoongi goes back to the table with his snacks, once again facing away from jungkook to probably finish the rest of the chips he opened. the driver speaks up again from where she's standing, now perched next to the snacks table with her hip resting against the side. "don't worry too much, you'll be home in no time and we really do have no intention to hurt you. you're just…" she trails off and stares outside the window.

"a helping hand to get us what we need."

and then it clicked in jungkook's mind. he was right, these people wanted money and holding him hostage is a quick and surefire way of getting it. clearing his throat, he decides to brave himself and ask for confirmation himself. "what do you want from me?" he holds the stare of the girl, curious and amused eyes staring back at him.

it's minhee who answers his question, "it's not what we want from you. it's what we want from your father." she stands up from her seat and sends a cold glare his way.

"money."

---

"Good morning Governor Jeon! What a lovely day today, isn't it? What a shame your son isn't able to see the sun himself today! But, don't fret, we can surely change that.

Now, Governor Jeon, all we ask from you is your cooperation and we won't hurt your precious son. Cross our hearts! We know how much you love him, so please don't worry too much. You just have to listen and comply.

Our only demand is, you guess it! Money! We want $5,000,000 in cash, delivered at an address we'll send to you after confirmation that you had prepared the money. After you give us what we want, we'll send you a location where you can find your lovely boy. He's quite a charmer, isn't he? And his taste in snacks is pretty good, if I say so myself. Sour cream and onion potato chip is delicious.

I must remind you however, do not try to get any authority involved or we can not promise your son will return unharmed. Do not try to trick or fool us, Governor Jeon, we have eyes on you and a gun in the same room as your son.

We know you're fully capable of giving us what we want so no negotiations, I'm afraid. Once the money reaches the location, open the bag and show us that you're not fooling us and then leave the premises and do not return back. Do not send anyone either or you won't get your son's location.

Now, as I've made clear before, if you or anyone else for that matter, violates one of the rules I've set in this message, I'm afraid your son will have to pay for that Governor Jeon. We would hate for that to happen, wouldn't we?

Anyway, you have 24 hours, starting from the moment you close this message.

Say Governor Jeon, isn't it lucky that the people that got your son are kind people who won't hurt him? Well this time at least. You should up your security around him, don't you think? It was quite easy for our people to get to him. What if somebody else got him again, but they're not as nice as us? You and him would be in big trouble, huh? Consider this as a friendly reminder from friends to friends, yeah?

Lovely time talking to you Governor Jeon! Hopefully we'll see you soon! Here's to no one getting hurt! Wait for our information!

---

jungkook quickly fell asleep last night after finishing his kimbap. it's no brainer since by the time he got to the warehouse, it must have been along the time of 1 in the morning.

he woke up uncomfortable, back and neck complaining at the awkward angle he had to sleep in. there's a shuffling sound close to him and when he turns his head around, he sees yoongi, with new clothes but still covered from head to toe, walking towards him with another container of food.

wordlessly, he opens the box, revealing a stack of pancakes with a side of fruits and a bottle of orange juice. he muses that at least they give him good food and one that's appropriate with the time of day. silently, he starts eating the food offered to him, eyes occasionally scanning over the room. though there's really not much to see.

the warehouse is empty save from a few scattered chairs, and a table. he notices the window from last night had been covered this morning, no natural light coming through the gaps. the only source of lightning is the few lightbulbs scarcely hang around the room.

there's a few doors to his right, but he couldn't see what's beyond it. although he can faintly hear the sounds of keyboards clicking from one of the doors, so he guess that's their temporary workspace for now.

"what time is it right now?" he asks after finishing the last of his orange juice. "almost 10 in the morning. here's to hoping your father fulfill his end of the deal, huh?" there's an underlying threat laced around his playful remarks and jungkook can only sigh at the statement.

"hopefully, i have assignments to finish and essays to write." at this, yoongi laugh, low and deep. "you sound much more composed than last night."

that's true, jungkook is a lot calmer now, talking about this whole situation like it's a minor convenience. but it's because he trusts that these people genuinely won't hurt him or they would have done so by now. also because he knows one way or another, his father will somehow get him out of here.

yoongi seems like he's expecting an answer from him, so he truthfully tells him his reasons. despite not being able to see his lower face, jungkook can tell he's smirking after he finished relaying his thoughts. "yeah well, maybe you should worry. we can't promise we'll let you go unharmed if he doesn't comply."

that brought his thoughts to a screeching halt, doubts and fears starting to plague his mind again. "we did promise not to hurt you, but only if you and your father listen to our demands. so your second statement is still up in the air. there's no 'one way or another" jeon, there's only one way if you want to get out safely."

one statement and his facade of bravado crumbles. what if his father doesn't comply? what if he makes a mistakes? what will happen to him? what will they do?

before he can scares himself further, minhee calls out for yoongi from the other room.

"that's my cue, be patient, pretty boy. you'll be out of here soon." even in the haze of his anxiety, he can't help but frown at the nickname. "stop calling me that."

"whatever you say, pretty boy." he hears yoongi's footsteps fade, and sighs to himself again. he cuss himself for forgetting his phone at his coffee table last night, and tries to move his wrists to see if he can loosen the tie.

unfortunately for him, the knot is too strong. so strong that he thinks it might be the impossible knot. he scans the room for any sign of weapons, only to come up empty. which means two things. one, his captors have all the weapons. and two, he won't be able to defend himself even if he got loose.

he hears a slight commotion from one of the rooms on his right. a second later, yoongi emerges, walking slowly towards him with his hands inside his pockets. "guess your father cares after all." before jungkook gets the chance to ask him what he means, he feels his eyes getting heavy, mind hazy, unable to fight it when his senses become dull.

"sorry 'bout that." and then everything becomes dark once again.

---

jungkook wakes up to a hand gently tapping his cheeks and a mean cramp in his neck. he slowly blinks his eyes open to see a stranger in a uniform crouching in front of him. when the stranger sees that he's awake, he's quick to gesture other people to start working on his bind, loosening the tight ropes around his wrists and legs.

"Mr.Jeon? Can you hear me?" he blearily nods at the question, mind too hazy to start speaking just yet. he slowly looks around the room to see crowds of people searching the perimeter. he doesn't see any signs of his captors however, which probably meant that they got away after rendering him unconscious.

he's lead to a Lexus RX that's parked outside of the warehouse, but not before being bombarded with questions from what he assumed are the paramedics. he tells them that he's fine and that they hadn't hurt him. they run a quick check on him and seem to be satisfied by his answer, letting him climb into the familiar leather of the car.

he tells the driver to drive him to his apartment, head heavily resting against the cushion of the car, "but Mr.Jeon, your father wanted to see you."

"tell him I'll meet him when i can, right now i just want to go home and rest properly." he doesn't want to deal with his father just yet, not knowing how he's gonna react. would it be anger? concern? indifference? he tries not to think about it too much.

thankfully his driver listened, sensing the exhaustion rolling off his being, and drove him straight to his apartment without any more questions.

he slams the door and make sure to check that it's locked before going around his apartment to make sure it's safe. he double checks every window and room, a slight anxiety still lingering at the back of his mind. he makes his way towards the bathroom, planning on taking a shower to rid him of the heavy weight pulling his limbs down.

on his way to the bathroom, he sees his phone lights up from where it's perched on the coffee table. curious, he snatches the phone to check the message. it's from an unknown number.

"Hey! What did we tell you, we won't hurt you right? We kept our promise! Just messaging you to tell you that Yoongi's sorry about the orange juice. We needed you to be unaware of what we were doing while we were preparing for your retrieval. Oh, and also tell your father to not investigate further too. Or something unpleasant might work it's way to your building. We wouldn't want that, do we?

And don't even try to track this message, you won't find anything. I guarantee. I'm good at my job. Anyway, don't forget to close your windows and lock your doors, wouldn't want a repeat of last night huh? Alright have a good day now Jungkook!

-Haeun"

he doesn't realize he's trembling until the phone almost slips out of his grasp, the taunts only adding to the growing anxiety at the back of his mind. the fact that she's brave enough to send a message to his phone, with yoongi's and her name in it means she's confident that they can't and won't be tracked. imagining the sweet voiced girl brought another shiver up his spine. he doesn't know why but haeun terrifies him.

he decides to delete the message and try to forget about the event from the last 24 hours, making a beeline towards the bathroom where he hopefully can wash off the reminder of the exhausting night.

once he's refreshed from his shower, he flops onto his bed and stares at the ceiling on top of him. he tries to rearrange the chaotic thoughts inside his mind.

concerningly, he thinks, he's not necessarily afraid of his captors from last night. maybe it's from the way they repeatedly assure him that they're not gonna hurt him. or from the way they fed him actual food, delicious one at that, and water.

no, it's the thought that he's a pawn in this game that terrifies him. the fact that he's stuck in this game of politics, money and power all because his father is the governor. the thought of being taken by another group that won't be as merciful is scary. years have gone by with his father involved in the politic scene but his family had never been threatened before. should he start worrying now?

before he can overthink like he usually does, the phone in his hand ping with another message. it's his father, asking for him to meet tomorrow to talk. closing his eyes, he sighs, shooting a quick agreement before trying to fall asleep to the sound of rain that starts pouring outside.

---

the next day finds him sitting in front of his father, fidgeting hands placed on his lap. his father doesn't mention anything, doesn't ask about what had transpired that night. jungkook can't help but think that his father had changed.

"i will be assigning you a bodyguard from now on, to ensure your safety." so there won't be a repeat of last time. "she will be with you at all times, except for when you're at home. and even then she will be staying at the apartment in front of yours so you can easily ask for her assistance. you are not permitted to leave and go anywhere without her. understand?" i will not let you cost me my reputation and money again.

his voice is cold, authoritative, daring jungkook to disagree with him.

jungkook bows his head low, muttering, "i understand," without making eye contact with the man in front of him. one he's not sure he recognized anymore.

"call her in."

jungkook hears the door open, two people coming in to stand next to his father. he sees you facing him and looks away before you can catch him staring at you.

"her name is (y/n)." you bow your head in his direction, face carefully blank when you look up again. your hair is styled neatly, suits tailored to fit. "it's nice to meet you Mr.Jeon." he blinks at your voice, not expecting you to speak to him. "oh! uh, nice to meet you too."

his father claps once to bring the attention back to him, "alright, you're dismissed, you can leave now."

he quickly stands up, bowing at his father before making a quick exit. the room feels suffocating and cold. he hears you trailing behind him but doesn't turn around until he's in the elevator, going down.

he debates on how to start a conversation with you, but you beat him to the punch. "no need to worry about making pleasantries with me Mr.Jeon. you can pretend that I'm just a shadow following you." he turns to see you with a slight smile on your face, before trailing his gaze to the holster strapped underneath your suit jacket.

"right…" he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, "you can call me jungkook. no need to address me so formally like that."

he sees you nod in confirmation before falling back into awkward silence. for him, at least, it's awkward. but you seem content with it.

he walks toward the awaiting car in front of the building, his father had sent someone to drive him around in the meanwhile, not yet allowing him to leave on his own. "i heard you're moving to the apartment in front of mine?" he hesitantly asks when you settle into the seat next to him in the car.

"yes i am. my belongings are being moved right now, actually. i will settle in tomorrow." he nods at your answer. "so, you'll be with me for," he frowns, "24 hours?"

"not necessarily, i won't be intruding on your personal space that is your apartment, but i will be accompanying you whenever you go outside."

"including university?" he doesn't think he likes the sound of that.

you purse your lips sympathetically, "I'm afraid so."

he stays quiet after that, looking out the window at the passing scenery to distract himself. he doesn't know what to think of this whole situation. in one hand, he's slightly relieved at the extra protection but on the other hand he's slightly uncomfortable at the thought of being followed everywhere he goes. at least, he thinks, he still has his home as his personal space.

a few minutes pass by in silence before jungkook feels you shifting next to him, body leaning forward to talk to the driver. "someone is tailing the car."

he guesses you have intended to whisper as to not worry him, but he hears you anyway. body immediately going rigid, he moves to look at you anxiously. "what?"

you lean back after the driver nodded, sending a curt nod his way, "a car has been following us ever since we left your father's building. we will try to shake them off before reaching your apartment." jungkook feels the car turning into a busy highway, now surrounded by more cars than before.

he anxiously glances between you and the rearview mirror, trying to find the car you're talking about, but with various cars in the highway, he can't tell which one is following him. you seem to understand what he's trying to do, "black honda accord."

he briefly sees the car you're talking about before it slips past him and speeds up, leaving him confused in his seat. when he turns to look at you, he realizes he's not the only one confused by the turn of events. you frown at the fading car, before blinking your expression back into a state of neutral.

"why did they just, leave? what do they want?" he asks, breaking the tense silence between you. "I'm afraid i don't know either jungkook. don't worry, i have their plates memorized, I'll make sure to tell your father about it."

the statement doesn't comfort him all that much, but he chooses to stay quiet. soon enough, he reaches his apartment building. he had always thought his apartment is safe, located in a building with strict security, but that doesn't make being followed home any less scary.

when you step out, you make sure to asses the surrounding area first, making sure nobody is following the two of you. once he reaches his apartment door, he asks you one last question. "do i have to call you when i want to go to the convenience store too?"

he sees a slight amused smile pulling at the corner of your lips, "with all due respect jungkook, it was going into the convenience store by yourself that got you into trouble, so yes, i will be accompanying you to the convenience store too."

embarrassed, he quickly nods and opens his door, bidding you a good night before disappearing into his apartment. he makes sure to check his whole space again, locking the doors and windows like haeun had reminded him yesterday.

he falls into his couch, turning on the tv to some news about an anonymous donation to fall asleep to. he lets his eyes close and sleep to overtake him, trying to shake off any remaining anxiety weighing his limbs.

---

having you as his bodyguard is not that bad, jungkook thinks. on the first week, you had been quiet and serious, accompanying him whenever he went to school and hanging back whenever he went out with his friends. though he received some strange looks at school because of your presence, it also brought a sense of security and calm for him.

after the first week of adjusting with having a bodyguard, he started breaking the ice between the two of you, occasionally striking conversation with you and asking about trivial matters. you were quiet, but you keep up with his conversation well, firing back questions after an answer to keep the conversation going.

by week three, jungkook considers the two of you as friends. he even managed to convince you to wear normal clothes instead of the suit you always wear, when you're not going somewhere formal. a feat that he's proud of.

"it'll look weird if you wear suits when accompanying me to the convenience store." he had said one afternoon while at the library. he's procrastinating his essay, choosing to strike a conversation with you instead. "this is basically a uniform, jungkook. I can't not wear a uniform while on the job." you leaned back in your seat in front of him, arms crossed in front of your chest. he tries to not let his gaze lingered too much.

coughing, he averted his attention to the highlighter next to his laptop, "but come on! wouldn't it look suspicious if you keep wearing that everywhere we go? why is it necessary for you to wear a uniform anyway? I'm sure they're not as practical. and they're probably not mandatory for your job." you had sighed but stayed quiet to let him speak.

"don't you need to be more subtle? and i bet it's a lot of work having to put on a suit every time i need to go out to get a cup ramen." he saw you mulling over the proposition before relenting. "fine, I'll start wearing more practical clothing but i still need to wear a suit when it's formal." jungkook nodded, "i understand, don't worry."

you turned up with casual clothing the next day. and the first time he saw you with normal clothing, he could only stare with his mouth agape, like a fish out of water. you look smaller with the oversized sweatshirt, hair styled freely instead of the usual professional look you go for. you're also slightly shorter since you forego the boots you usually wear for a pair of comfortable sneakers. the only thought that ran through his head at the time was "find you a woman who can do both."

by the second month of you being his bodyguard, he has started inviting you into his apartment to hang out with him. he often challenges you to play video games with him, competitive nature resurfacing everytime you win. though, he never asked to go to your place and you never offered.

your presence lets him forget about the events that took place many months ago, providing a calm reassurance everytime he walks. now, he doesn't check his apartment obsessively anymore, merely making sure to lock the doors and the windows. it also lets him feel normal for once.

despite being someone who works for him, you don't let that become a gap between the two of you, befriending him who sometimes finds it hard to make friends due to his status as the governor's son.

all in all, jungkook thinks having you as a bodyguard isn't that bad.

---

walking at night doesn't feel as scary as before now, with your warm presence next to him, steps aligned with his. he chatters away about his upcoming project, asking for your opinion once in a while about a certain topic. it isn't until he feels your hand on his bicep that he realizes you had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, eyes cautiously trained in front of you.

he frowns, turning to look at you, "what's wrong?" he follows your gaze to see two people standing at the other side of the road, appearance reminding him of those people that had captured him all those months ago. a hat, mask and a hood to conceal their identity. hands shoved into their pockets to conceal any weapon they have.

he tenses when he feels you shift next to him, fight or flight instinct sounding in his head when he sees them slowly making their way over. he's too caught up in his mind to realize that you had drawn out your gun, shoving it into his trembling hands. "jungkook, take this. if any of them tries anything, aim and shoot."

"wh- what? what about you?" he'd be embarrassed of the tremor in his voice if he weren't so scared. these people don't look nice.

you throw a smirk his way, "don't worry about me."

any reply dies on his tongue when he sees one of the people swings their fist towards you, one you quickly dodge by stepping to the side. he sees the other person charging towards him, moving away from the direction he pointed the gun at to tackle him down.

they both fell to the ground, his back hitting the cold pavement with a loud thud. the male pins jungkook to the ground with his knees, gun having fallen away in the moment of scuffle. he draws back his fist to punch him but jungkook manage to throw him off balance by slamming his knee against his back. he pushes the male away from him, wrapping his arm tightly around their neck while searching for the gun with his other hand.

he's momentarily distracted when he hears you yelp in pain, looking over to see you hunched over a few feet away from him. he sees the person you're fighting aiming a knife at your shoulder, sending him into panic. when he grabs ahold of the gun, he shots the person in the thigh.

the knife clatter to the ground, a hiss sounding from the person standing in front of you. he sees you stand up to neutralize them, throwing a punch and stepping on the thigh jungkook had shot before. he then turns to the person in his arms, debating on what to do. the male senses his hesitation, using their strength to throw jungkook over their shoulder, causing jungkook to loses his grip on the gun once again.

in the moment of weakness, the guy had managed to grab the gun from him, the barrel of a gun now pointing at his forehead. jungkook closes his eyes and brace himself, fear gripping every inch of his body, replacing the adrenaline.

but the shot never rang. instead he hears a heavy thud, and when he opens his eyes again, you stand in front of him, gun pointed at the guy kneeling in front of you.

"who sent you?" you ask, voice cold and emotionless, it reminded him of the first sentence you've spoken to him. the person doesn't answer, eyes trained on you while occasionally flickering to his friend still laying on the ground, obviously in pain.

"you're not gonna answer?" your question sounds more like a statement, and a few seconds after you finished your sentence, jungkook hears the telltale sound of the police cars. you must have alerted the authority the moment you saw them.

he sees the male nervously glancing around, fidgeting like he's trying to find a way to escape.

"go on, try to run, I'll make sure you end up like your friend over there." bleeding, unable to walk, let alone run.

slowly, the male moves his hands out, holding it up in the air in surrender. your hold on the gun tightens momentarily before relaxing again when the police arrive to apprehend the two.

he sees them being handcuffed and lead to the awaiting police car ready to take them to the station. you drop your hand to your side, still clutching the gun in precaution.

an officer walks towards the two of you, placating hands in front of his body. "are you two okay? do you need medical assistance?" it's not until he mentions it that jungkook notices there's an ambulance parked next to the sidewalk, a few medics tending to the guy he had shot.

you turn to look at him, scanning him head to toes for any injuries, "do you need medics? are you hurt?" he shakes his head, hands still shaking, "no i- I don't, i don't think so." you frown at his answer, taking a hold of his wrist gently, "still, you need to get yourself check out. let's go."

jungkook is tempted to hold your hand but managed to refrain from it. he needs some comfort, but he's not sure if he can ask it from you.

you lead him to the ambulance, the male from before had been taken away to the hospital, so there won't be any awkward encounter between the three of you. "he might have a bruise on his back, he was thrown to the ground twice." you tell the medics.

he didn't realize he might've been injured too, but your words makes him realize there's a dull pulsing on his shoulder blade and his back. the medic nods, gesturing to his shirt, "may i check?" offhandedly, he nods, letting him lift his shirt to check his back, but moves to grab your hand when you turn to walk away.

"where are you going? you need to get checked out too, you probably sustain more injuries."

"I'll get checked out later, I'm going to give you some privacy." you smile at him, hand gently prying his from your wrist.

he furrows his eyebrows, "i don't mind, really. you should really get yourself checked." he eyes the cuts and bruises on your knuckles. "did you know your knuckles are bruised?"

you look down at your hands, chuckling to yourself. "did you forget this is my job, jungkook? this is not a big deal."

thankfully, the other medic is quick to agree with jungkook. "come here, let me tend to your wounds." she doesn't let you disagree, sitting you down and making quick work to clean the scrapes on your hands.

he hisses when he feels someone poking the bruise on his shoulder blade, "just some minor bruising on your shoulder and your left lower back. when you get home, you should ice it and rest to let it heal by itself." he quietly nods and watches as his medics move to help tend to you.

"and you, miss? any other injuries besides the knuckles?" he asks as he crouches behind you.

you turn your head to the side, pondering the question. "probably just some bruising too since he managed to get a couple of punches."

the medic nods, "is it okay if i check your torso?" you purse your lips, eyes flickering to jungkook at the back of the ambulance. "sure."

jungkook averts his eyes when the medics start to lift your shirt, only looking back when the male starts talking again. "there's a shallow laceration on your side, quite a few bruises too. do they hurt?"

"not that much."

he sees them nod, "alright we'll take care of the bleeding wounds and then you can go. don't forget to let the bruises heal."

a few minutes later, you're walking home, side by side. he eyes the gauze around your knuckles, heart heavy with guilt.

"I'm sorry." he mutters.

you stop to look at him, eyebrows raised in question. "for what?" "you got hurt protecting me."

"it's my job, jungkook. you don't have to feel sorry." he sighs, kicking at nothing. "i know, but still."

you place a comforting hand on his biceps, "and it's not your fault. don't beat yourself up." he can only nod at your statement, still uneasy at the thought of you getting hurt. the rest of the walk is blanketed with silence, millions of thoughts running through his head. he thinks about who those people were, about what they wanted. he shivers at a particular thought. what if you hadn't been there with him? what if he were alone, like that night at the convenience store?

he doesn't want to think about it.

when he arrives at his doorstep, you place a hand on his shoulder to stop him from entering his house. "don't forget to ice your back." jungkook blinks, he just remembered that. how is he gonna ice his own back?

he sees amusement dancing in your eyes, it's like you can read his mind. "do you need help?"

embarrassed, he quietly nods, opening the door and inviting you in.

"lay down on the couch, I'll get the ice."

he complies wordlessly, laying on his stomach on the plush couch and closing his eyes. he hears you move around in the kitchen, and struggles to keep his eyes open. he hears you ask him if it's okay for you to lift his shirt, answering the question with a short grunt.

you lift the shirt off his back, hissing when you see the bruise on his shoulder. "damn," is the only thing you say before placing the ice pack at the right spot. he tenses for a moment at the cold sensation, before melting back into the couch. "didn't they say there's another bruise, jungkook? where is it?"

at the mention of his other bruise, his eyes pop open, realizing where it's located. "uh…"

he waves his hand around, "don't worry about that one, i can take care of it." he can't see you but he's sure you're frowning in confusion. "i thought they said it's on your lower back?"

"ye- yeah. yeah it is. it's um…" he's too embarrassed to tell you it's on his butt. "don't worry it's fine."

it's silent for a few minutes, jungkook thinks you might let it go but then he hears you trying to stifle your laughter. he pouts, "don't laugh! i fell on my butt when he threw me off his shoulder!"

you let out a single laughter before composing yourself, patting jungkook on the head. "it's okay. that's good actually, you didn't fall on your tailbone and risk injuring it." he hums at the compliment, good point, kudos to him for moving his body slightly to the side when he was up in the air.

"you sure you don't need my help compressing it?" you tease, moving off the couch back to the kitchen. "m'sure."

"do you want warm milk, jungkook?" you call from the kitchen. "yes please!" milk sounds nice right now.

when you come back, you place the warm cup of milk on the coffee table, "i put some honey in it, like in that movie you showed me last week." jungkook's heart clenches, you're so cute. he mutters a thanks to his folded arms, trying his best to keep his eyes open. "I'm gonna go home now, rest and take care not to aggravate your bruise too much, okay?"

he moves his head to the side, "do you need help? with your own bruises?" you shake your head on your way to the door, "nah, it's fine. i can do it myself, i didn't get thrown to the pavement." he throws another pout your way.

"good night, jungkook." the door closes before he can say it back.

---

a few weeks pass by without any more incidents, his body returning back to its normal condition in just a few days. for a couple of days, you diligently helped him iced his shoulder, not forgetting to tease him about the one on his butt each time.

everytime he offered to help you with your own injuries, you always shot down the idea, telling him you can take care of yourself. so jungkook decided he'll help by going out less to let you rest a bit more, so your cuts and bruises can take their time to heal.

he invited you over more often, offering to watch movies together with him or to play video games. sometimes you had to decline, telling him that you still have some things to do, but more often than not you'll sigh and roll your eyes fondly before agreeing.

this week however, he hadn't seen you that much except for when you accompanied him to school. mostly because he had been cooped up in his own apartment, only leaving for his exams in the morning, studying and focusing on his big project for the rest of the day.

he'd given you a heads up before the week started, as to not worry you when he doesn't knock on your door to ask to go the mall.

"I'm gonna be pretty busy next week," he had said over a plate of fried rice, sitting on his dining table with you across from him. you raised one eyebrow in question. "finals week means i have to study everyday and i have to finish a project I've put off long enough."

he chewed the fried egg, gulping it down before continuing, "so i probably won't go anywhere except for school. think of it as like a vacation for you." you had nodded and smiled at him, but didn't say anything, scooping up more rice onto your spoon. jungkook didn't notice your smile didn't reach your eyes.

today is the last day kf exams for him, every finals done and project sent to his professor 15 minutes before the deadline. he flops down into the floor in a heap, exhaustion rolling off every inch of his body. he had only gotten a total of 25 hours of sleep this week, and had not been taking care of himself properly.

he groans and stands up when he hears his stomach grumbles, making his way to the kitchen to look for some food. there's a slight headache at the back of his head, vision blurring for a moment before returning to normal. he shakes it off as exhaustion, opening the fridge only to see it empty. he tries the cupboard but comes up with the same thing.

throwing his head back, he decides he'll have to go out to get some food, it's not too late at night yet, clock showing 8:15. walking to the door to get you, his vision blurs again when he reaches his door, hand gripping the doorknob to prevent him from falling. he definitely needs to get you now.

when he opens the door, he finds you conversing with someone in the hallway, opening the door to let them in. he can't exactly hear what you're saying but the other voice causes a flicker of familiarity to light in the back of his mind. your eyes quickly snap to him when you realize he's standing behind the person, widening in surprise and… nervousness? fear?

he was about to ask you who it is when the person turns to look at what made you freeze, jungkook's body going rigid at the realization. the voice, the eyes, he remembers them, memories from the events all those months ago surges to the front of his mind. his vision blurs again, this time slowly going dark around the edges. only one name crosses his mind.

"minhee."

---

you watch as jungkook's body goes rigid when he sees minhee turning around, he had obviously recognized her. you hear him mutter her name before going limp and move to catch him before he collapses, supporting his weight so he won't fall to the ground and hurt himself. grunting, you adjust his body in your arms, "minhee, a little help?"

she sighs loudly, moving to stand next to him and slinging his arms around her shoulder to help you carry him to your apartment. "the fuck are we supposed to do now?" she asks, kicking open the door and helping you move him to your couch. "i have no fucking idea."

your mind races with all the possibilities, trying to come up with a solution to the new problem in your hand. you unceremoniously drop him to your couch, feeling his forehead to check his temperature. he doesn't have a fever, though he look pale and exhausted. you figure he hasn't been taking care of himself.

haeun emerges from the kitchen, holding a bowl of seasoned popcorn. she munches and raises her eyebrow at the sight, "what's going on?" she looks at the boy on your couch, "why's he here?"

you pinch the bridge of your nose, pacing in front of the door while minhee sits on the chair next to the tv. she answers haeun question for you, "pretty boy here, recognized me and then fainted."

haeun chuckles, "he fainted because he saw you?"

"no, i think he fainted from exhaustion and possibly dehydration, seeing minhee just add to the shock. how long do we got until he wakes?" minhee clicks her tongue, "few minutes? maybe? I don't know but you need to figure something out, quick."

you talk out loud so minhee can hear you, maybe her opinion can help. "well, one thing for sure is we can't let him go and pretend nothing happened, can we?" she shakes her head no.

"but, maybe we can? i can just say that he hallucinated because he was tired? do you think that would work?" she shrugs her shoulders.

"do you think he'll believe me if i told him that?" she nods her head yes.

you stop your pacing, "what? you think he'll believe me if i told him he hallucinated?" she plasters an innocent look on her face, blinking at you from where she sits. "i think so. pretty sure he'd believe you if you tell him the cashier at downtown McD is an alien."

you tilt your head to the side, not understanding what she meant. "what?" before she can respond, haeun places a glass of water on the coffee table and you shoot her a grateful look. "okay you know what, you two go hide in my room. I'll try to see if i can get him to believe nothing happened."

"no, he's not that stupid. you know that's not gonna work," a voice is heard from your doorway, and when you turn to look, it's yoongi with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

you groan in frustration, "then what am i supposed to do, yoongi?"

sighing, he walks into your apartment, closing the door behind him. "I don't know yet but i think we should take him with us." he stares at the sleeping boy on your couch, using his shoes to nudge his knee. "it's too big of a risk if he knows and we let him go, you know that. we can't let him walk around with that knowledge, not yet. he now knows of your identity and hers. we'll figure out what to do after our main goal is done."

minhee and haeun stay quiet, letting the two of you figure out what to do with the governor's son. "if we disappeared, they would no doubt be suspicious of me, and then my cover will be blown." yoongi sits at the table, legs crossed, "I'm sure you can figure out a reason, right?"

you drop your head to your hands, racking your brain for any solutions. "whatever you come up with, you know I'll be able to help you with." haeun offers, watching your eyebrow furrows in deep thought.

you look at jungkook, it's been a few minutes and he hasn't woken up yet, which probably means he won't wake up for a little while.

hesitantly, you let them know of your plan, "i can tell his father he's going on a trip with some of his friends to celebrate and that I'll be accompanying him. I'll tell him he won't be able to reach us because we're going somewhere secluded but I'll keep him updated and that it's an impulse trip."

you turn towards haeun, "can you deal with the logistics of all of that? tie up any loose ends and cover any tracks so he won't get suspicious. I'm going to message him right now and see what his response is and then we can go on from there."

haeun nods, and you trust her. you trust that she'll be able to handle it, she's good at her job after all, and a genius on top of that. you quickly send the message, receiving a reply in less than 5 minutes.

"Alright, keep him safe. I'll transfer the expense to you once you return. Tell him not to do anything stupid."

you scoff at the response, you can't believe that would actually work. he doesn't question why jungkook didn't tell him himself? doesn't question jungkook going on an impulse trip with his friends? you wonder about his relationship with jungkook.

but you guess right now, it's a good thing that he doesn't question you and he trusts you that much.

"minhee, can you pack me my bags? in case anyone checks, we need to keep up the illusion of going on a trip. I'll go to his apartment to pack his." she nods and makes her way to your room, while you order yoongi to keep an eye out for him.

you quickly walk to his apartment to pack his bag, grabbing only the necessity and some pieces of clothing, turning off all the lights and electronic appliances and taking his phone and laptop with you. once you're done, you walk back to your door, briefly musing about the security cameras. you'd need haeun's help to take care of that later.

when you get back to your apartment, you see minhee holding two bags, standing next to yoongi while jungkook stays fast asleep on your couch. you shove the bags you're holding to haeun so you can lift jungkook with yoongi, making sure everyone have their mask on before leaving the apartment. you tell them not to wear their hood as to not rouse any more suspicions and make your way to the parking lot downstairs where you deposit him in the passenger seat of your car.

fortunately, you didn't meet anyone on your way down or you'd have a hard time explaining the unconscious boy in your arms. climbing in to the driver seat, you pull out of the parking lot, driving to a place you know to be safe.

"haeun, can you take care of the security footage?" she hums from the backseat, "don't worry I'm already working on it." you nod at her words, glancing at the boy next to you.

"I'm sorry, Kook."

---

when you reach your house, you take jungkook to your bedroom to let him rest and ask minhee to get some water for when he wakes up. you need to assess the situation after he wakes up too, to determine if he remembers what happened or not, maybe you can still convince him that nothing had happened and take him back.

10 minutes later, you see jungkook stir as yoongi and minhee steps outside your bedroom, so you gesture for them to hurry up. when jungkook fully wakes up, they're both hidden from sight, door closing quietly behind them.

he groans from his position on your bed, hand coming up to rub his forehead. you sit next to him on the floor, tentatively touching his shoulder. "jungkook?"

he jolts when he hears your voice, scrambling to put a gap between the two of you. "hey, hey it's okay. you're alright, you're safe." he keeps quiet, eyes wary, and you can't tell if he remembers seeing minhee or not. you keep talking in a soft voice to placate him, "you're okay. you fainted from exhaustion in front of my door. i heard a knock and when i opened the door, you collapsed before i could ask you what happened."

you place your arms on the bed, showing him you're not gonna hurt him. "you look really pale when i opened the door, do you want some water?" you gesture to the glass on your nightstand.

he furrows his eyebrows, glancing at his surrounding, confused eyes scanning the room. you think he might have forgotten until he opens his mouth, "are you gonna poison me?"

you freeze, blinking at him. "what are you talking about? of course not, why would i?"

he blinks back at you, face blank and void of emotion. "so you can use me as a "helping hand" to get what you need." he repeats the word you said to him that night, proving that he remembers. you try to play it off, "jungkook, i really don't understand what you're saying."

hesitation flicker in his eyes for a moment before disappearing again, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. "minhee," is the only thing he says.

you frown, "who?" "the tall girl in front of your door earlier." you purse your lips, he remembers.

you sigh, dropping your shoulder and gesturing to the water, "at least drink some water first, i promise you it's not poisoned." you reassure him the same way you did that night.

he doesn't move so you take the glass, taking a gulp of water to prove its harmless before offering it to him. he eyes the glass with distrust, gazing at you for a few moments before taking it from your hand. you notice he tries to not make any contact with the hand you have wrapped around the glass.

"jeon jungkook, if you don't forget and pretend nothing happened, i can't let you go." you sit at the couch on the left of the bed, putting more space between you so he'll be more comfortable. you put on your persona and offer him a chance to walk away.

he scoffs at your statement, "where am i? and what the fuck are you talking about? you want me to forget that you were with the person who captured me all those months ago? and goes on with you as my bodyguard? don't you think i need an explanation?" he slams the glass on the table, hand raking through his hair in frustration.

the way he phrases it captures your attention, does he not know that you were also there?

"you're in my room, and if i tell you, jeon jungkook, i can't let you leave this house. i don't want you to get more involved than you already are."

"stop calling me that!" he nearly shouts. you widen your eyes in surprise at his volume.

he lowers his voice, hands gripping the sheets underneath him, "don't call me jeon jungkook, don't put distance between us."

softening your eyes, you cross your legs, softly calling his name, "i can't tell you, jungkook." he snaps his gaze towards you, recognition dawning on him.

he throws his arms up in the air, "even if you don't tell me, there's no way you can let me go anyway, right? i know about you and minhee, i know you were the one driving the car."

there it is. confirmation.

"but if i tell you, you'll get tangled in this mess."

he scoffs, "like I'm not already?"

"you might hate me if i tell you," you worry, biting your lips in an effort to not let it all spill out. the moonlight shines through the blind on your window, providing a dim light that illuminates the room. there it is, the reason you're so hesitant on telling him.

he purses his lips, "what makes you think i don't already?"

your heart drops to your stomach at his words, tears unconsciously welling up at the corner of your eyes.

it's a fear of yours that manifested the moment he invited you over to play games. a worry at the back of your mind when he convinced you to wear casual clothes. you know you shouldn't have let your guard down so easily, but he had been scared, lost, sad, lonely. so you give in, opening your heart for him to nestle himself in.

you close your eyes and will them back, fisting the blanket on your couch. eventually you nod, deciding you owe him an explanation at the very least. "okay."

"that night, we staged the capture. we were never planning to hurt you in any way, money also wasn't the reason." you see him starting to relax, hands fiddling with the string on his sweatpants. "we needed your father to hire someone to protect you, so i can infiltrate my way in to gather intels. we have someone on the inside, someone who will make sure I'll be the one he chooses. i also needed to keep an eye out on you to determine if you were involved."

"the two people who attacked a few weeks ago wasn't us. they were people who wanted to get you because they realized your father will pay them if they managed to get their hands on you."

he knows that, but keeps quiet, letting you continue with your explanation.

you stay silent for a minute, before, "your father is involved in multiple cases of money embezzlement. he had been taking funds from a few public projects, and had also been receiving bribe money from certain companies." jungkook freezes at the reveal, mind going numb at the information.

"we are here to gather information, to reveal it to the public in due time. we are also working to expose the authority so that when we come out with the evidence, it won't be swept under the rug." you shift in your seat, wringing your hands in front of you. "i figured you weren't involved and had no idea about it."

it's a question masks as a statement. dazed, he shakes his head. "he started doing it one year ago, and our mission had been on going for around half of that time. our information wasn't enough just yet, so we needed a way in. i had been collecting evidence, sending them to my team for them to process."

jungkook is still bewildered, mind starting to connect the dots. before he can spiral, however, you intervene his thoughts, "don't worry jungkook, the illegal money is all in an offshore account and had never been used until that night with the 5 million dollars and to pay people to keep quiet about his secret."

he snaps his gaze towards you at the mention of the ransom money, "what did you do with those money?"

you smile sympathetically at him, "we gave it back to the institution." his mind flashes back to the news of an anonymous donation the next day after the incident and a small weight lifted off his shoulder.

you sigh, leaning back on your seat. "I'm sorry to say but right now, you're in my room, in my house. not the apartment."

he blankly stares at you, waiting for more explanation. "unfortunately we can't let you walk around with this knowledge, not now. but once we reach our main goal, I'll make sure you'll be able to leave safely. please believe me when i say we won't hurt you." your words are sincere, eyes gazing at his to convey your honesty.

he hears the door to your room open before he could open his mouth, two people walking in. the smooth voice of minhee cuts through the air, laced with amusement, "so I'm guessing your plan of lying to him didn't work?"

you glare at her from your spot, "don't act like you didn't hear our conversation min." you lay down on the couch, eyes closing in exasperation. "so, what are we supposed to do now?" he recognizes the voice as haeun, a slight shiver running down his spine.

"I'm not gonna say anything." he hopes he sounds convincing enough.

minhee scoffs, rounding the room to sit next to you, lifting your legs and placing them in her lap. "even so, we can't risk it. our identity is on the line, you have to stay here under surveillance until we can figure out what to do with you."

"i don't see any reason why you need to keep me captive if i promise not to tell anyone. nobody will know and your identity will be safe if I'm the only one who know," he argues back, he knows it's probably pointless but it's worth a shot.

"he has a point," you mutter, haeun coming over to lay herself on top of you, crushing you with her weight. minhee swats at her but doesn't complain.

"absolutely not, we can't let him go." a new voice speaks out from the doorway. when jungkook turns his head to look, he found three males standing there, one he recognized as his driver.

he suppresses his gasp at the fact. they walk into the room, closing the door behind them.

"and why not?" you question from under haeun, who is squishing your cheeks with her palms, like you're too cute for her to handle. jungkook doesn't understand why she's doing that.

"he knows too much, simple as that." it clicked in his mind when he hears the drawl of the voice. it's yoongi.

you sound more muffled now, "but he's not gonna tell anyone, i believe him." his heart skips a beat at your declaration. yoongi raises his eyebrow at him, "yeah? but i don't."

minhee is the one who speaks up next "so how long are we planning to keep him here?"

yoongi shrugs and drops to the floor in a starfish position, "as long as it needs."

his mind reels, for the topic of conversation right now, all of you seems to be very relaxed, not worried about jungkook running away and ratting you out to someone. you're basically in a cuddle pile for fuck sake. he confusedly look around, catching the eye of his driver who lift his hand to wave at him.

"oh yeah, that's taehyung. he's also one of us. he's the one who's in charge of getting the information at first, but when we realized it won't be enough, we had to find another way." you had successfully pushed haeun away from you, rolling over so you're now lying face down on the carpet. you sigh loudly "yoongi, what are we supposed to do next?"

the man in question snorts from his place, "i don't fucking know, isn't it your job to figure it out?"

jungkook can stand up right now, he realizes. he can stand up and bolt out the door and away from whatever this is since all of you are distracted. oddly, he doesn't feel the need to.

you roll over on your back, "oh! and that last guy is jimin." the guy in question lift his hand and wave, offering jungkook a friendly smile.

"so you basically kidnapped me, again?" jungkook asks as he leans back on your bed, staring at the navy blue sheets.

"uh… i guess? in a way?" you sound so confused, so unsure, it reminded him of the other version of you he thought he knew. he realizes the two of you would need to talk it out later.

"you're not worried about my father?"

"oh, well, you see, i told him that you impulsively decided to go on a trip with your friends to somewhere where we can't be reached, but i told him I'll keep him updated and he agreed."

he nods, storing that information for pondering later when he can't sleep at night.

the room is quiet after that, each person caught up in their own world. he sees haeun poking minhee in the face, while the girl type something in her phone. taehyung, his former driver is conversing quietly with jimin while you and yoongi appear to be asleep.

he sighs loudly to announce that he is, in fact, still here, garnering your attention from the floor. "this is too much information for one night, can you all leave, i would like to be alone."

they all wordlessly stand up from their spot, yoongi had to be pulled up by both minhee and taehyung, and steps outside your bedroom.

except for you.

you scooch so you're sitting next to the bed, staring up at him, "please don't try to run away or you might get hurt in the process. we have plenty of surveillance and guards that will prevent you from leaving and i can't promise they won't hurt you while doing so."

he holds your gaze, reading the emotion behind it before closing his eyes. "fine but we need to talk."

nodding, you gently take his hand in yours. "i know, we'll talk tomorrow okay? you should get some rest, you did faint after all."

you stand up, letting go of his hand and walking out the door, "finish the water, I'm going to get you some food and then you can go to sleep."

the door shuts behind you, leaving jungkook alone with his thoughts. he wanted badly to stay awake and process all the information but after finishing his meal, his eyes can't help but droop and he decides this time to let sleep overtake the chaos in his mind.

---

when he wakes up the next morning, the curtains are drawn, letting him sleep undisturbed by the blazing sun outside. he rolls over and groans, trying not to think about his situation too much or else his head will explode.

for now, he's just gonna go out on a limb and give you a little bit of his trust, you said you trusted him last night with the identity of you and your whole team, despite how dangerous it is if people found out so he thinks he'll give you back that trust, even just a little bit.

he was about to fall asleep again, the plush bedding and warm blanket lulling him back before the door cracks open and someone walk in. he pretends to be asleep, not knowing who it is.

he feels the bed dip at his side, a hand caressing his head gently. he will his body to relax so the person won't realize he's awake.

"Kook, I'm sorry." it's you, whispering because you think he's still asleep. "i didn't want you to get involved in this mess but I guess… i guess I'd gotten you involved the moment i became your guard, huh?" you're rambling to yourself, hand still gently stroking his hair. "Or maybe the moment i decided to staged that incident."

he hears you sigh, low enough that he thinks you still don't know he's awake but loud enough that he can feel your frustration through it. "i really am sorry, Kook." you whisper one last time, before standing up and tucking the blanket around his shoulder. he hears the door close, and opens his eyes, staring at the wall in front of him.

it's the first time you call him by his nickname.

///

you watched as his friends drove away, waving from inside the car and shouting at the top of their lungs despite only being a few steps away. "bye, kook! We'll see you later! Don't forget to send us your part of the project or I'll hunt you down!" he laughed at the threat, shouting back his confirmation before turning back to you. "come on, let's get inside before we freeze out here." he ushered you inside, bright smile still plastered on his face.

when the both of you were standing in the elevator, you turned to face him to see a thoughtful look on his face. "hey, (y/n)." you hummed in answer. "we're friends, right?"

you blinked at his question, honestly not knowing the answer yourself but he had continued, not waiting for you to answer. "you know, i was thinking, since we're friends, why don't you just call me by my nickname? it's probably a hassle to call me by jungkook all the time, right?"

you hesitated in answering him, because you don't know if you can. it's a warning that minhee gives you everytime she comes over, "don't get too comfortable." it floats around in your mind, plastering itself at the front of your head everytime you give in to his request in trying to befriend you.

he silently stared at you, waiting for your answer. you pursed your lips, trying to lightly brushed it to the side without hurting his feelings too much. "hm, i don't know jungkook. i think I'll stick to calling you by that name, i need to maintain an air of professionalism, right?"

his shoulder dropped at your answer, turning his body to stare at the elevator door in front of him. he sounded dejected when he replied, "yeah… i guess you're right."

not wanting for him to be upset, you quickly reassured him, "but i am your friend, jungkook. just because I'm not calling you by your nickname doesn't mean I'm not." he's still tensed at your response, nodding to signified he doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

you wordlessly complied with his request and he eventually let it go, never bringing it up again in conversation.

///

he ignores the loud chatter inside his mind, all the confusion and doubts cruising through his head. he'll make sure to talk to you later to quiet them. for now, he's going to get some breakfast. looking at the clock which read 8:43, he stands up from your bed, making his way to the door.

only to realize he's completely unfamiliar with the house and won't know where the kitchen is. he debates on waiting for someone to get him, but his grumbling stomach protests his decision, causing him to try to brave through the house by himself.

opening the door to your room, he's greeted by an empty house. he takes his time admiring the place, it doesn't look too big, but it does look luxurious. with marble flooring and ivory walls, the house looks like it's sparkling. he turns right to make his way down the stairs, observing the left of your room has another set of stairs that go up.

he finds himself in what he assumed to be the living room, a place that looks more cozy down here than when he's looking at it from above. he sees a door at the side of the room, walking towards it when he hears people talking.

he walks into the space to see haeun placing two slices of bread at the side of taehyung's face while jimin sits at the counter, giggling. "what are you?" haeun screams. taehyung answers with a deadpan and blank face, "I'm an idiot sandwich." causing jimin to laugh harder, folding in on himself, jungkook fears he might tumble off his chair.

"okay, I'm not eating that bread, it touched tae's face. haeun! stop wasting our bread!" he doesn't realize that minhee is standing by the fridge with a bowl of cereal in her hands. "it's fine, this is tae's bread." the male sighs, taking the bread from haeun and walking over to the toaster. he pops the bread into the toaster before turning around, catching sight of a confused jungkook standing at the doorway.

"oh hey, you're awake. help yourself to some breakfast. we've got plenty." he gestures to the array of food on the table, ranging from fried rice to waffles. "why is there so much food?" is the first question that comes out of his mouth.

"soomin stress cook." minhee answer simply, grabbing a piece of bacon and french toast and plopping them into her empty bowl. jungkook shrugs when nobody else bothered to elaborate, grabbing a plate and scooping a plate of fried rice and some noodles on the side. "dining room that way." taehyung points to the hallway that leads to the side, "(y/n) is there, i think."

he nods at taehyung in thanks, making his way to the dining room after grabbing a glass of milk for himself. he sees you sitting at the table in the middle of the room, laptop and documents splayed out in front of you while you mindlessly munch through your plate of waffles and fruits. two other people sit at the table with you, yoongi on one side and another girl he doesn't recognize on the other.

yoongi notices his presence first, gesturing for him to sit down at the table in front of him. jungkook frowns, is he allowed to be here right now? it seems like you're working. "yes you're allowed, we're not working on anything confidential right now." yoongi answers, apparently he had voiced his question out loud.

nodding, he sits on the table, occasionally glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. you smile at him when he catches your eyes, mouthing "we'll talk later, i promise" before going back to your laptop.

"hello, my name is soomin. i don't believe we've met yet." he snaps his gaze to the girl who just spoke, offering an awkward smile her way. "oh, uh. I'm. I'm jungkook."

she smiles warmly at him, "i know, I've heard about the situation, don't worry. i believe (y/n) told you everything already, right?" he shyly nods.

"then please don't worry, we won't hurt you as long as you don't try anything." his body goes rigid at the thinly veiled threat, hand freezing with the spoon tightly grasped between his fingers. "soo, don't scare him like that, i already talked to him." you step forward when you see him react, trying to quell the tension that suddenly fills the room.

soomin smiles at him before looking back at you, "i know. I'm just making sure. this is our whole team we're talking about here so i just want to make it clear."

you close your eyes and sigh, "i… i know. i just." he turns his gaze to see you biting your lips, eyes staring at the dark wood in front of you.

"I'm so sorry." your apology sounds so small that he's sure he wouldn't have heard it if it weren't for the stillness of the room. soomin's gaze softens, hand moving to squeeze yours that lay on top of the documents, "no, hey. it's okay. it's not your fault."

there's an odd feeling sitting on his chest. a stuffiness that he can't explain everytime he hears you apologize. he decides he doesn't like it. doesn't like it when you blame yourself, doesn't like it when you sound so small like that, doesn't like it when you keep things from him.

yoongi purses his lips at the exchange, "soo, let's go to the kitchen to get some more coffee?" he stands up with his plate and mug, (y/n)? you can take a break and enjoy your breakfast." soomin nods, leaving the two of you alone in the big dining room.

you close the laptop in front of you, gathering the papers into one neat pile before storing them in a briefcase he didn't notice were there. the two of you stay quiet for a while, each enjoying your own breakfast at your own pace.

eventually it's you who break the silence, "any questions you wanted answer to, jungkook?"

he ponders it for a while, starting with "was the you i knew then was real?"

you frown into your plate, lips forming an adorable pout that had jungkook almost cooing at the sight. "well, yeah. why wouldn't she be real?"

he purses his lips, "did you befriend me because you have to?" this time you shake your head, "no. in fact, i wasn't supposed to. i was actually told time and time again to keep my distance."

he gulps at your confession.

"but i chose to be your friend anyway, because…" "because?"

you look up to meet his gaze, honesty coloring your eyes, "because i wanted to. and because i saw that you needed, no, wanted a friend too." his gaze softens at that.

you continue, "everything between us was real, it wasn't because it was my job to be your friend, gain your trust and betray you in the end. i-" stuttering, you bring up your hand to wipe a stray tear. "i didn't want to hurt you, even though i guess in the end, i would have regardless."

because in the end, your goal is to take down his father, essentially betraying him in a sense. befriending jungkook wasn't part of the plan, it was something you didn't see happening while you were mulling over the plan to take down the governor.

jungkook stays quiet, processing the information you just laid out for him. you stand up with your plate, sensing the conversation is over for now. when you pass by him, you place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it once to provide reassurance. just before you walk out of the dining room, you ask "and jungkook, you know that I have to reveal it to the public, right?" i have to take down your father, is left unsaid.

he nods because he knows. no matter what, the people need to know about the corruption, the authorities need to do something about it, and his father needs to own up to his actions.

you nod at him, sending a quick smile before leaving him by himself so he can think.

---

a few hours later, he finds you crouching in the garden next to the house, watering and tending to a variety of vegetables. he hesitates on how to strike up a conversation.

"so, uh, the bedroom I'm staying in is yours?" you flinch when you hear his voice, not expecting someone else to be in the garden with you. you look up at him from your position, hands midway to picking a tomato off its vines, "oh! uh yeah." he nods awkwardly, eyes scanning the content of the garden. "where are you staying then?"

you pick the remaining ripe tomatoes off, placing it in the basket next to you, soomin is going to be overjoyed that they've grown so well after that disastrous harvest. "in the guest bedroom next to the dining room. it's usually unoccupied so i can stay there as long as i need."

he crouches down next to you, grabbing a tiny shears to help. you watch curiously from the side, wondering if he knows which one to pluck off and which one to leave behind. you pull out the pesky weeds next to your precious cucumbers, keeping an eye on jungkook to make sure he's not going to accidentally ruin your crops. soomin will murder both of you.

curiouslyly, he knows exactly what to do with his tiny shears, removing the excess branches and cutting off any dead leaves and buds. "can you show me around later? around the house? it's… uh… a pretty large house."

you eye the patch of leafy greens at the side, debating if you should pick them today or leave it another week. "yeah okay, sure."

the air is tensed between the two of you, but you can't exactly pinpoint the reason. is it you? did the talk affect you more than you thought? or maybe jungkook just doesn't trust you anymore, given the circumstances. maybe he decided that you're-

you feel him grabbing your wrist before you can finish your thoughts, staring at his wide eyes in front of you. "you were spacing out while holding a scissors." frowning, you look down to see that you are indeed holding a scissor that look too close to your other hand for comfort. you mumble, "sorry."

jungkook huffs at that, gentle but stern when he talks, "why do you say sorry so much? i don't think you have anything you need to apologize for." widening your eyes, you stare back at him, not understanding what he's saying. he sighs at your expression, shaking his head at you before continuing with his task.

you decide to let it go for now when you see his annoyed expression, watching as he cuts dead leaves off your cucumbers plants. curious, you ask, "how do you know about pruning?"

he huffs a laugh this time, "i think even without gardening knowledge, anybody will know that you need to cut off these stems and leaves."

"yeah, but you pruned the branches of the tomatoes, the new ones." he hums at your question, "i used to help my mom when she worked in her garden." you blink at the unexpected answer, you don't think you've ever heard him talk about her in all the months you've worked alongside him.

a small "oh" leaves your lips, not wanting to pry any further. it garners an amused smile from him. "currently, she's in another country, had been for the last two years. but we keep in contact quite often."

you purse your lips from trying to ask a question but it seems like he reads it on your face anyway, "they both have a pretty good relationship, he's pretty supportive of her pursuing her interest." and he leaves it at that.

the two of you work in silence for the next few minutes, making sure there's no pests or weeds left that risk ruining your, well soomin's, perfect garden.

you stand up once you're done, almost falling over when you realize your legs fell asleep while you were working. thankfully, you caught yourself, wrapping your palms around jungkook's biceps to prevent yourself from face planting into a patch of cabbage.

again, soomin will murder you if you damage her precious veggies. you don't know why she's so protective over her cabbage in particular.

jungkook snickers at your blunder, placing the shears on a toolbox next to his feet. you immediately let go of him when you feel the muscles shift underneath your hands, resisting the urge to slap yourself out of it. he moves to grab the basket full of vegetables, placing a hand between your shoulder blade to help you walk.

you turn your face away, hoping he didn't see your flaming cheeks. absentmindedly, you think, the two of you are okay.

---

you stand in front of the door with jungkook next to you, hands on your hips, "this is the front door." he blinks at you, "yeah i know?"

you point at the room behind it, "that's the living room." "I'm perfectly aware."

you throw your hands up, "you said you wanted me to show you around!" he laughs loudly at that, "i already know about the first floor. beside! we're standing outside the house right now! I'm 100% we look ridiculous. you're pretty bad at being a guide huh"

you pout, "fine," and walk inside the house, flopping down onto the couch in the middle of the living room. "I'll explain it verbally instead. first floor is the living room, the kitchen, dining room, a bathroom and my bedroom."

he maps it in his mind, your bedroom must be at the back of the dining room. "second floor is the rest of the bedroom and a family room, next to the bedroom you're staying in right now. that's just where we hangout usually."

he looks up at the second floor at that, counting the doors, "how many people are there?"

"10 including you."

"there are only 7 rooms on the second floor."

you nod, grabbing the remote at the coffee table in front of you. "jimin and tae share a room, mirae and narae also share a room."

you turn on the television, stopping at a documentary channel, "there's also two more bedrooms on the third floor, along with a gym room, an office, and a game room."

"big house, huh." he mutters.

"it does have 9 people living in it so yes, it needs to be large to be comfortable, don't you think?" a voice speaks from upstairs. when he looks up, it's soomin. "i- yeah. i guess so."

he watches as she walks down the stairs, and freezes in alarm when she stops in front of him. "I'm sorry about this morning, by the way, i was just protective of my team."

her gaze flicks to you when she says, "surely you understand, right?"

he purses his lips together, brows furrowing. "yeah." his gaze moves to you for a second before going back to her, "i understand."

she nods in satisfaction, hiking her backpack higher before addressing you, "well i gotta go now. I'll be back in a few days, don't cause any trouble while I'm away, okay? please keep haeun away from my garden."

you nod distractedly, eyes still glued on the tv in front of you, "bye! stay safe!"

she fondly rolls her eyes before sending a quick smile his way in curtesy. she closes the front door behind her and a few seconds later jungkook hears the sound of a car driving away.

"by the way, do i get any access to internet? phone? computer?" he knows the answer but no harm in asking. he sits at one of the comfortable armchairs next to the couch.

you hum from your seat, "I'll see what i can do but I'm afraid I can't give you your own phone or computer. haeun will probably do something about the phone situation and if you want, you can go to our game room to use the computers. everything's been secured there."

you side eye him, "we can't really risk you making contact with anyone outside. just, you know. a lot of, uh" you stutter, obviously trying your best to not insult or hurt his feelings. he had to bite his lips to keep from laughing at your endearing reaction.

"it's okay, i get it, really." you sigh in relief at his reassurance, nodding at him before going back to focus on the tv.

he hears a door open somewhere, haeun emerging from the kitchen with a bag of chips in one hand. jungkook averts his stare, she still scares him a little bit, not a lot, just a little. on her way to the stairs, she tosses a box in his lap and when jungkook looks down, it's a brand new phone.

"it's been secured, no way you can contact anyone without me finding out so don't even try." and then she disappears into one of the rooms upstairs just like that. he notices her room is the one to the left of yours.

you smile at him, "sorry, you're gonna be off the grid for a while." he shrugs at that, he thinks he doesn't mind it too much now.

---

he's only been here three days, but he already finds himself getting comfortable around your friends. once the wariness had wore off and they're sure he could be trusted, they had started warming up to him.

jimin had been one of the first one to approach him, asking him if he wanted to work out with him in the gym room. jungkook had accepted the invitation and now jimin had dubbed him as his workout buddy since yoongi and taehyung won't budge when he asked them.

they usually spend a few hours in the gym, exercising together and making light conversations. he finds jimin to be very friendly, sometimes a little too friendly for someone he literally just met a few days ago.

taehyung had been the second person he befriended. apparently, walking into the game room had been enough to get taehyung to open up to you. now, taehyung pesters him to game with him anytime he has time to play, complaining that no one else in the house is interested in playing with him except for haeun who's busy most of the time and jungkook is happy to entertain him.

on the other hand, he doesn't see the trio all that much around the house, and the time he does, the interaction is usually short lived and curt. but he does feel that they're trying to be nicer to him. it's just that, with the history of their past interaction, it gets kinda awkward sometimes.

he also doesn't see you as much as he would like now, only seeing you in the morning for breakfast and at night for dinner in the dining room, each time always checking up on how he's doing. he doesn't know where you go for the rest of the day.

truth be told, he misses hanging out with you.

he rolls over in bed, standing up to close the curtains when he hears a knock on his door. tilting his head to the side, he wonders who it is and opens the door to you standing in front of him, hair wet like you just took a shower, flustered.

"uh hey."

"hey."

"so- sorry. I'm just here to grab some stuffs?" he remembers that this is, in fact, your room. "Oh! Of course," and steps to the side, allowing you to come in.

you make a bee line to your wardrobe, throwing the door open to grab your clothes. he hesitantly sits on his, well, your bed, hand awkwardly placed in his lap while he watches you sort your clothes into a bag you have with you.

he coughs to get your attention, "um, you know. you can just stay in this room?"

you freeze in your place when you hear him, "wha- what. what do you mean?"

he notices how he phrases his question, quickly backtracking to avoid embarrassing himself, "i mean! maybe you can just stay here and i can stay at the guest bedroom you're staying in right now? this is your room after all and all of your things are probably here while i have my things in a bag and can easily relocate to the other bedroom, i also don't want to intrude on your private space."

you turn around to sit next to him on the bed, "are you sure?" "yeah, it's fine."

you mull over his question for a while, "no, it's okay. this room is closer to the other's rooms."

he deflates at that, he thought you trusted him? "so it doesn't feel as stifling as that one since it's so far away." you shift your body towards him, "this room feels a lot more comfortable, so i would like for you to stay here instead so your stay here would be more comfortable too." he perks back up at that, heart skipping a beat at your thoughtfulness. "this room is also bigger."

"you're really cute." oh shit, he said that out loud. your expression doesn't change, most likely because you're so surprised but he does see pink tinging your cheeks.

"tha- right. oh! i mean, thanks. i- i guess?" you're really cute, he thinks. you quickly stand up, going back to your wardrobe with impressive speed, "right i need to, uh i need to pack some more clothes."

you start shoving clothes into your bag, and jungkook worries he made you uncomfortable.

"sorry, i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." he apologizes, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

you stop packing, a black garment in your hands when you turn back around to look at him. "no! it's not- I'm not- don't apologise- it's-"

he raises his eyebrows at you,

"I'm, I'm just embarrassed, sorry."

"you don't have to apologize."

"right! right, sorry."

he chuckles at that, redirecting the conversation to another topic to avoid prolonging the awkwardness, "so, um." he doesn't really know how to bring it up but he decides to just go for it. "where have you been lately? i haven't seen you around that much."

you continue packing some clothes and move to the desk to grab some more things. "oh, I've been kinda busy lately, with some-" you cough, "with some work. it's just some documents and things and yeah."

he senses that you're trying to not to reveal too much which probably means it has something to do with why he's here. he decides to let it slide, not wanting to pry too much into it. "i see."

you zip up your bag once you're done, turning around to sit back beside him on the bed, "why? is something the matter?"

"oh, no. it's just." he hesitates for a brief moment. "i just miss you, it's all." he grumbles underneath his breath, kind of embarrassed.

you take his hands in your and squeeze, "I'm sorry. i know it must be hard to adapt to a new environment without someone you're familiar with, right? I'll try to make more time, okay?" he wants to tell you he's perfectly adapted to his new environment and that he just misses spending time with you but he keeps his mouth shut, running his thumb across your knuckles.

he nods but stays quiet, staring at your hands between his. "how about we go watch some movies? I'm free right now," you offer after hearing his prolonged silence.

his shoulders perk up at that, "really?"

smiling, you nod enthusiastically. "yeah! you can go pick a movie and I'll get some snacks downstairs." you stand up, pulling him with you out the door and guiding him to the room next door.

he's never been to this room before. "I'll go get the snacks!" you shout as you quickly run downstairs, to the direction of the kitchen.

the room is large, being one of the master bedroom, and cozy. half of the floor is covered with comfortable rug, soft enough to lay on with a large tv pressed against one of the walls. a shelf sat underneath it with a coffee table in front of it, surrounded by large sofas and multiple bean bags covered with blankets.

he makes his way towards the shelf under the tv after turning on the light, browsing through the movie selection of the house. you come back a few minutes later with three large bags of potato chips and two bottles of water, dumping them on the coffee table before joining him in browsing for the perfect movie.

he settles on the floor after picking the movie, leaning against the couch behind him so he can be closer to the chips. you lay down on the couch behind him, hand dangling over his shoulder to steal some of his chips instead. "you haven't seen this one yet, right?" he asks around a mouthful of chips.

"no." you mumble into the couch, one hand unconsciously massaging the knots on his shoulder. he shivers at the sensation, willing himself to stay put. "do you know what kinda movie this is?"

"no."

"it's a horror movie."

"oh."

he twists his body to look at you, "are you okay with that?" you blink sleepily at him, lips curving down into a confused pout, "yeah I'm fine with that." he nods at that and focuses back on the screen.

he's pretty embarrassed to admit that he flinches more than you despite being the one who picked the movie but the feeling is overshadowed by his feelings of contentment to be able to spend some more time with you.

one movie turns into a marathon and before he realizes it, the both of you had fallen asleep, comfortable in each other's presence.

---

contrary to what you said, for the next couple of days, he actually sees less of you than before, only seeing you in the morning for breakfast. in fact, he had seen less of the others in the house too. it's like he's back in his apartment again, alone, just in a bigger space.

today is the first time jimin had asked him to go to the gym again, citing that he was busy the last few days and unable to work out. he walks into the gym expecting to find jimin already on weights but is surprised when he sees you and yoongi at the corner of the room, sparring.

"hope you don't mind." jimin says from next to him, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the towel around his neck. he jumps in surprise when he hears him, quickly shaking his head to bring his thoughts back, "no i don't mind it's okay."

he steals a quick glance at you, eyes scanning over your practice clothes. flustered, he coughs when he sees you throw a punch to yoongi's rib, and averts his eyes somewhere else, feeling his cheeks heat up.

not looking back at where you are, he makes his way to the treadmill at the other side of the room, putting his headphones on so he won't be tempted to look back.

it's not like it's the first time he's seen you in a more casual, more revealing clothing. it's just that the sight amplifies the odd butterflies he feels on his stomach.

he feels his heart beat a little quicker but he doesn't think it's the treadmill. for now, he'll shove it all into a box labeled "later" for him to address another time.

these past few days, he can feel the tension in the house rising without a single word being exchanged, and seeing you practice with yoongi confirms his thoughts. all of you were planning on something, he just doesn't know what.

when he's done with his run, he takes off his headphones and moves to the weights. focusing himself on his exercise instead of you, snapping his gaze up when he hears the door to the gym open. "(y/n), yoongi, come with me. we need to talk." soomin says, turning around to leave before receiving a confirmation.

he sees you and yoongi stand up, gulping down water before walking out the door without so much of a nod of acknowledgement. before you close the door, you send an apologetic smile his way.

he hopes everything's alright.

---

that night, he couldn't quell his curiosity and finds himself walking to your door after dinner. you didn't come down from the office for dinner, only appearing for a short while to grab a cup of coffee before disappearing back into your room. he knocks on the wood and waits, shifting his weight around when he doesn't hear any movement.

he was about to turn around to leave when the door swung open, revealing you on the other side. if jungkook pays close enough attention, he can see the faint dark circles underneath your eyes. "hey jungkook. what's up?"

"can i… can i talk to you?" he toys with the zipper on his jacket, gaze bouncing around to avoid looking at you.

you step to the side to let him in, "sure. what do you want to ask?"

"it's just, I'm just wondering." he sits on the chair next to the door while you take a seat on your desk where he can see piles of papers scattered on top of it. you tilt your head to the side in question, urging him to continue his question.

"why is everyone so busy lately? it seems like everyone's a little tense?"

you freeze at his question, eyes going wide for a split second before you sigh, slumping into the leather chair. "i guess i should tell you."

he frowns, crossing his legs and placing his hands on his lap. "tell me what?"

"we're publicizing the information tomorrow. regarding your father."

he tries to process the words, he really did. tries to find a place in his mind where he can store the sentence, but he just couldn't. he doesn't know what to think. should he be upset? angry? terrified? sad? relieved? he doesn't know.

he just feels numb.

you continue when you don't hear him speak, "he will be arrested and the money will be seized by the government. I'll try to damage control as much as i can so your family doesn't get the brunt of it."

he didn't realize that you had moved to crouch down in front of him, placing a reassuring hand on top of his to bring him back from his mind. "we'll be returning from said vacation in about two days in pretense that we heard the news, and then I'll either get fired or resigned so my cover won't be blown. and i," you trail off, gripping his hand just a little tighter.

"i really hope that you don't betray my trust. i know that, that it's risky. it's so, so risky to let you go with the amount of information you have on us. especially now that you know significantly more than anyone else ever involved with us. but i just, i can't let you get tangled in this mess much more. so i really hope that once all of this is over, i can let you go and you can move on with your life, try to forget about us. put all of this behind you and live happily.

"i hope that me trusting you with all of this won't be my downfall. because i know how easy it is for you to just walk to the authority and reveal everything you know about us. but i really really hope that my choice to believe in you won't hurt my team because i really don't want you to get hurt anymore either."

his mind runs through every concerns you just revealed to him. pulling you onto his lap, he wraps his arms around your waist, face dangerously close to yours. "i don't want to forget about you." his voice is so faint that you doubt you'll be able to hear it if not for the proximity of your face.

he closes his eyes and sighs, resting his forehead against yours. you place your hand on his shoulder, eyes softening at the emotions coloring his face. "it's my turn to talk now, okay?" he opens his eyes to stare at you, gaze more intense than that time he lost to mario kart. you nod mutely at his request.

"i know you're scared of me holding this knowledge with me because you're scared that i might be angry at you and your team for what you're doing but it's not true." his gaze softens when he looks at you, soft lights framing your worried face. "I'm not angry at you, what you're doing is necessary, I'm more angry at him, angry at myself for not knowing but mostly angry at him for letting greed overcome him. so don't worry about me going to the authority, i won't."

he rubs comforting circles at the small of your back, watching as your posture relax slightly in his hold. "i also don't want to move on and forget about you. i don't want to lose you, don't want to put you and everything else behind me." it's obvious you want to interject, but you kept your promise of letting him talk.

"despite it all, your team had become my friends too so i don't want to forget about them either. i hope that once this is all over, you'll let me stay by your side and be around you. i feel safer with you, I'm happier with you." he'll keep the rest of his confession to himself for now, deeming it not the right time just yet.

you rest your head on his shoulder, hands unconsciously playing with their hair on his nape. "but i can't let you stay, it's dangerous and complicated."

you sound so confused, so lost, unsure and uncertain, that all jungkook wanted to do is hold you tight to him and assure you it'll be alright.

he rests his head against yours, "we'll figure it out. I'll be by your side, i promise."

---

"Governer Jeon revealed to be involved in embezzlement."

"An anonymous tip was received last night, revealing that the well respected governor had been embezzling money from multiple public projects and storing them in an offshore account. Other than taking money from the goverment, it's known that he had also been receiving bribe money from multiple companies for various reasons for the past year. Many questions how he had been able to avoid detection for quite some time.

Since the information had been revealed, Governor Jeon had been arrested this morning and taken into custody to await for trials. All of the money will be seized by the goverment and will be redistributed back to the projects with lacking funds.

It's revealed that all the money has never been used before other than paying other involved parties, except for a withdrawal of 5 million dollars a few months ago, apparently after the kidnapping of his son. Some posit a theory that the 5 million donations the next day have been from the people who took his son, determined to get the money the former governor had stolen back to it's rightful owner.

Staffs and family members will be questioned by the police, but it is believed that none of his family members had been aware of his secret, being that he had never withdrawn the money for anything else, suggesting he was hoarding the money for himself for when his reign as the governor end next year.

Read more to find out about the full evidence submitted last night and other parties involved in the scandal."

---

jungkook busies himself by staying at the game room today, not in the mood to talk to anyone or accidentally listening to the news. it's not that he's angry at you and your team, he just doesn't want to know what kind of look they will give him. remorse? pity? disdain?

he knows that they know he's not involved and that he's against it as much as them but he can't help but fear how the reveal might change their perspective on him. thankfully, they didn't bother him, letting him have his time alone to process everything. that, or maybe they're busy. he'd like to believe it's the former.

he also needs to brace himself for the hectic days that's to come when he gets back, no doubts he will be questioned by the police and quite possibly run into some news reporters, eager to write the story.

he's glad that it's his break or he might lose his mind if he has to go to school on top of everything. he's restarting another game when the door opens, internally groaning to himself, he really doesn't want to be bothered today.

he feels someone placing something on the desk next to him, it's a plate of noodles and a glass of milk. he turns his head to find you standing next to him, sending a quick smile before turning around to leave.

he reaches for your wrist before you can take a step, patting the chair next to him when you pivot to look at him in question. you wordlessly comply, sitting down and scooting the chair closer to him.

he's the first one to break the silence, "what am i supposed to do with the police and reporters?"

"answer the police truthfully, they already know you're not involved, it's all just for show and protocol. same with the reporters, they just want confirmation for what they already know. I'll still be your bodyguard for the next few days, so I'll help you deal with them."

" and if it makes you feel any better, your mom has arranged you another bodyguard for the time being."

he straightens at that, turning his chair to face you. "really? how did you know?"

"she contacted me, said she'll assign another person to help because one probably won't be enough for now. at least until everything has settled."

nodding, he grabs the glass and chugs the drink inside. you'd think he's taking a shot if it doesn't look like a glass of milk.

you place a hand on his back, and he muses he likes it when you touch him. "it's gonna be okay jungkook. I'll be by your side, okay?"

"i know."

you spend the rest of the day in the game room with him, watching him play games by himself and occasionally making snarky comments from the side. nobody else came to bother him that day, a fact that he's grateful for.

---

the morning came too soon for his liking, the day he has to go back and deal with everything causing his heart to beat loudly in nervousness. he hikes up the bag on his shoulder, waiting in the living room for you to come out of your room.

haeun tosses his phone back to him and when he checks, he has hundreds of unread messages. some from his mom, a few from unknown numbers, and a lot from his friends. true to your words, it seems like everybody believes that his family and himself is in no way involved with the incident. most texts are asking if he's heard the news, if he's okay and to contact them back when he can.

everyone seems to be aware that he's on a supposed vacation where he can't be reached and he's sure it's haeun's doing.

he's still scrolling through his message when you come to stand next to him, with your own bags to make it look believable. "ready?" you ask.

shrugging in response, he shoves his phone into his pockets, deciding he'll deal with them later. "i guess."

"alright, there's a car that'll come pick you up in a minute and it'll drive you back straight to your apartment." haeun tells him, walking up the stairs with a loaf of bread in her hands to get back to her room.

a second later he sees a car pulling up to the front of the house, a sleek black SUV waiting for him. you settle yourself on the back seat, but he hesitates briefly before climbing into the car, this time without a threat of a gun pressed against his back.

the drive is silent for the rest of the way and he's ought to thank you for that. he doesn't really want to think, let alone speak. instead, he spends his time going through his messages, replying to every message and deleting the unnecessary one, namely from press. he should probably change his number after this.

soon enough, he arrives at his apartment building where a few reporters are waiting outside. it's not as crowded as he thought it'll be and he's glad for that. you slide out of the car before him, putting on your bodyguard persona once again before opening his door for him when you deem it safe.

they immediately rush to him, throwing questions after questions without listening for an answer first. thankfully, with your presence next to him, they don't crowd around him, standing far enough that he can still move around. he listens to what you told him last night, answering the necessary questions truthfully and that seems enough to placate them into letting him walk inside his building and away from them.

before he gets the chance to get inside the elevator however, he's stopped by your hand gently clasping around his wrist. "your mom's bodyguard is here."

he looks to see a tall man walking his way, with a suit similar to yours and sleek back dark hair. "hello. I'm kim seokjin, your temporary bodyguard."

he curtly nods in greeting, he just wants to get back to his apartment, not feeling like exchanging pleasantries with anyone. without saying another word, he speed walks to the elevator, pushing the buttons in agitation.

in record speed, he reaches his door and before entering, addresses the both of you, "i want to be alone for the rest of the day, please. I'll come get you if i need to go outside."

you nod in understanding, sending a glance to seokjin who also nods before walking to the end of the hallway. "are you gonna be okay?" you ask once seokjin is far enough. he purses his lips, "eventually," and close the door behind him.

---

for the next few days, jungkook is preoccupied with the police and press, and when he's not going out to attend the meetings with the authorities, he stays inside and shuts himself out. you're starting to worry about him, but you know he really does need the time to himself.

in the meanwhile, you familiarize seokjin with everything he needs to know, telling him that your contract is about to end and there's a possibility you're not going to be jungkook's bodyguard anymore. he had nod in understanding and promise to you that he'll do his best to protect him.

you knock on the door to his apartment, nervously shifting in your place. when he opens his door, he looks exhausted, prominent dark circles decorating his face. worried, you frown, stepping inside his apartment and placing your hands on his face to examine him.

"are you okay? you look like you haven't been sleeping."

he closes his eyes at your touch, "yeah, yeah everything's fine, i don't know I'm just." he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer, resting his head in the crook of your neck. "there was just some things i needed to take care of. everything's fine now."

you nod, bringing a hand up to rub his back. "i came here because i needed to tell you something."

he hums, arms slightly tightening their hold on you. "i know, your contract ends tomorrow, right?"

you hum in answer, pulling away from him to guide him to the couch. he sits close to you, resting his head on your shoulder and holding your hand between his. "so after tomorrow, you're not someone who works for me anymore."

"uh huh."

"so should i tell you i love you after your contract ends or can i tell you now?"

you freeze in his hold, not expecting him to bring this topic up right now. both of you had been skirting around the conversation long enough. your heart skips a beat at his statement, and you try to supress the smile playing on your lips.

"well, do you want me to tell you i love you too after or before my contract ends?" you don't know when you realize you were in love with him, but you have a feeling it's before he even fainted into your arms and had to be taken to your house.

the realization wasn't a loud declaration, but more of a soft whisper at the back of your mind. when you told minhee about it, she had barked out a laughter and said "took you long enough to realize."

he squeezes your hand, turning his head to place a tiny kiss on your jaw. "tomorrow then."

laying on his bed that night, jungkook thinks tomorrow can't come soon enough.

---

the next day, you walk out of the office with lighter steps, your mission is done, your undercover role is thoroughly finished and you can finally go back to your house again.

while packing your bags in your former apartment, you can't help but think about how jungkook will fit into the puzzle. he had stated that he wanted to stay, and had been pretty determined in his stance. you entertain the thought of him joining your team for a whole second before throwing it out the window.

you don't want him to get hurt, you don't want him to be involved in something so complicated and confusing. you want him to be able to live normally and happily.

a knock on your door startles you out of your thoughts, you zip up your bag before placing it on the ground, opening the front door to find jungkook standing there with a big smile on his face.

"can i come in?"

you smile back at him, stepping to the side to let him in before closing the door behind you.

you turn around to see him standing behind you, hands reaching out to pull you close to him. "I love you. I'm so in love with you."

you wrap your arms around his shoulder, burying your face in the crook of his neck. you mutter loud enough for him to hear, "I'm in love with you too."

the confession fills you with warmth and makes you feel lighter at the same time.

he moves the two of you back until he can sit down on the couch with you on his lap. "can't you just move into my apartment or something." he grumbles to your hair, hands splayed on your shoulder blade.

you chuckle at his tone, peppering light kisses to the side of his neck that cause him to squirm. "no, i can't. I'm sorry."

he sighs, "i guess it's fine." hesitantly, he asks, "i can still meet you and go to your place, right?"

you pull back to look at him, pursing your lips in thought, mulling over the situation, "not yet."

he frowns at that, "what do you mean?"

"seokjin is your bodyguard now, you can't go anywhere without him and we can't have someone knowing about where we live or who we are, even though he has no idea about it."

biting his lips, he closes his eyes in frustration. "so? am i supposed to wait until he's gone to see you?"

you take his face between your hands, smoothing his eyebrows with your thumbs, "hey, i can still come over and meet you. you just can't go to our house. it'll be fine."

his frown turns into a pout, one you want to kiss until it turns into a smile. so you gently place your lips on top of his, feeling as the corner of his lips turns upwards. he reciprocates the gestures, capturing your lips between his and pulling you impossibly closer to him. you pull back when you need air, jungkook chasing your lips before opening his eyes. you muse on how beautiful he look.

"how about you come over to my apartment right now?" he playfully smirks at you, hands moving slowly down your back. you bit back a smile at his offer, "yeah? what for? i should be heading home right now, you know."

he moves closer to your face, "just, you know. to play games." you try to contain your laughter, "no can do. gotta get going, have some errands to run."

he pouts at your answer, moving to steal another kiss before relenting, "fine."

standing up from your seat, you grin at him, slinging on the backpack and grabbing the bag you have with you, "maybe next time, kook."

his face breaks out into a large smile at the mention of his nickname, eyes scrunching cutely. he stands to accompany you, reaching for your hand to intertwine with his. you meet seokjin on your way down, nodding at him in goodbye and gratitude. jungkook orders him to not follow him, garnering a protest from seokjin that results in a back and forth bicker between the two. you watch with amusement as seokjin lectures him, jungkook shooting back rebuttal in a playful manner.

eventually jungkook wins, letting the two of you have more time alone before having to depart. once you reach your car, you squeeze his hand one more time, reaching to plant a kiss on his cheek. he seems unsatisfied with it, moving to capture your lips between his once again.

you giggle into the kiss, feeling him smile underneath your lips. reluctantly, he parts way from you when minhee taps on the window impatiently.

"I'll call you, okay?"

"okay. I love you."

you softly smile at him, eyes crinkling in endearment, "I love you too," and climb into the car. as the car drives away, you think, the two of you will be alright.

---

the sun shines brightly through the windows, causing you to groan and roll over to avoid accidentally blinding yourself when you open your eyes. the person next to you stirs, grip around your waist tightening momentarily before relaxing again. hoarsely, you cough out a question, "babe, did you forget to close the curtains last night?"

jungkook mumbles in his sleep, something that sounds like "what are you talking about? what's a curtain?" you're not quite sure but it sure doesn't sound like "i didn't close it, I'm sorry." so you roll over again until you fall to the carpet, sitting up and dragging yourself to the window to pull the curtains close so you can go back to sleep.

when you flop back onto the bed, you mumble sleepily into his ear, "kook, it's already 20 minutes past 8, you should probably hurry to your meeting with mirae and narae." at your words, he bolts up from his position, looking more awake like he had chugged 3 cups of coffee in one sitting. that's the effect the twins have on people, they truly hate it when people are late.

he scrambles to change his clothes, not even bothering to go to the bathroom to freshen up, muttering a chant of "fuck shit they're going to be so fucking pissed. fucking damnit."

he doesn't forget to kiss you before bolting out the door, slamming the door shut behind him as you hear his footsteps echoes through the house. if the twins don't get to him first, yoongi will, since you're sure he just woke him up.

2 months ago you completed your mission and moved away from your apartment. 2 weeks later, you find jungkook at your doorstep with a proposition in his mind and no seokjin behind him. a week later, you watch as jungkook chugged a glass of beer mixed with hot sauce, something taehyung and haeun dubbed as "initiation" but jimin preferred to call it a "celebratory" drink as jungkook officially joined your team.

it's been a little over a month since he settled into everything, and it seems like he adapted well enough into his new life. you smile to yourself at that. sure, you'd been apprehensive at first at the prospect but when you see how determined he is, you decided to relent and follow along.

unsurprisingly, he's good at whatever task soomin threw his way, easily completing it in record speed and usually leaving her speechless when he goes to report to her. he also learned martial arts pretty quickly, something you know yoongi is pleased at because of how he call him his "best student" and "(y/n) it took you 5 months to learn this move and this guy got it in 2 days." which cause your eye to twitch in annoyance that you have to supress the urge to throttle yoongi.

he hadn't been assigned any significant mission just yet, only helping others with theirs for now, but by the look of it, yoongi and soomin might let him lead his own mission soon, impressed by his capabilities.

you look over to the clock at your bedside table, groaning to yourself when you see the 8:58 blinking back at you. deciding you won't be able to fall back asleep, you drag yourself downstairs to get some breakfast, remembering that yoongi is cooking today since soomin is out of town. the thought of yoongi cooking relieves you since the last time both of them were out of the house, haeun had managed to burnt 3 pots and broke two cups while taehyung stands to the side with a bucket of water in case something caught on fire.

when you reach the kitchen, you find it to be empty, plates of waffles neatly stacked on the counter with some foil over it to keep it warm. you fix a plate for yourself and jungkook, sitting at the counter with a glass of orange juice next to you.

before you finish your plate, you feel someone wrapping their arms around your waist from behind, jungkook's head resting against your shoulder. "i narrowly escaped their wrath."

"yeah? how angry were they though?"

"angry enough to keep me on garden duty while soomin is out of town."

"huh, not too bad. once, taehyung was late for literally 47 seconds and they had his games restricted for a week." he hisses in sympathy, "yikes."

"uhuh, they're going easy on you. i fixed you a plate of waffles already, and there's a new carton of milk for you in the fridge." you detach yourself from him, putting your dishes on the sink before turning to look at him. "i have some documents i had to send, so I'll be at the office, alright?"

he kisses you deeply before you leave, one hand resting on the small of your back while the other holds the side of your face.

"bro! this is a kitchen! take that shit somewhere else, some of us are single!" haeun screams from the doorway.

you part way from his lips, laughing loudly on your way out. "I love you babe."

he shouts back from the kitchen, "I love you too!"

yoongi shouts from his room. "shut the fuck up!"

the house breaks into a laughter at that, and you reckon, the house feels warmer now.

#btsghostie #bts scenarios #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts au #jungkook scenarios #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #dear koo #writings

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viking-raider · 4 years

Text

The Immortal Sky - Part IV

Summary: Henry tracks down people that could help him find you, not realizing just how close to you he is. You make it outside the wall of London, entering the wild expanse between it and Bristol.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 8,000

Chapters: I II III

Warning: PG-13 - Future!AU, Dystopian!AU, Language, Abuse of Power, Angst, Mentions of Violence and Drugs

Inspiration: I’ve always wanted to write a futuristic fic!

A/N: I would love to thank @wondersofdreaming for being a lovely beta and brainstorm buddy! You’ve kept me sane so many times! Please, Tell Me What You Think!!

“What do you know about Michail Keagan, Mr. Parker?” Henry said, sitting across from your twin brother's Supervisor at his assigned place of work.

“He's a fucking loser.”

The Supervisor laughed, shaking his head at the table between them. “He might spend a whole hour here for his shifts, other than that he's missing in action. I've reported him to the Council of Daily Operations numerous times, but they don't care because he still clocks in, despite it only being for that one hour.”

“So, he knows how to cheat the system.” Henry nodded, chewing on his lip, frustrated.

“Him and that equal loser friend of his, who's supposed to be working for us, but got himself transferred to his family's hole-in-the-wall restaurant.” Parker huffed, rolling his eyes.

“What friend?” Henry frowned, leaning against the table on his elbows.

“Theodore 'Teddy' Wang.” Parker replied. “He's a dishwasher for Wang's Take-Away.”

“Thanks.” Henry said, standing up and extending his hand to Parker, then made his way to the Chinese restaurant.

“Hi, how can I help you?” Jinyu asked from behind the register, smiling as Henry stopped in front of her.

“I'm looking for your son, Teddy Wang.” Henry replied, glancing behind her.

The smile on Jinyu's face melted away, she could tell by the way Henry looked and held himself that he was part of the Marshals Council. “He's not here today.”

Henry sighed, pressing his palms to the nicked counter top and leaned all his weight on his arms, bringing his piercing blue gaze to hers. “Mrs. Wang,” He said softly. “I'm not here to arrest your son, even if he's doing something that warrants it. All I want from him is answers to my questions. It's that simple, unless you and your son want to make it complicated.” He explained to her.

Jinyu stared at Henry for a long time, before rolling her eyes and pointing to the beaded curtain behind her. She knew if she didn't comply, Henry could make a load of trouble for her back at the Council, and she, her family and their business didn't need that. Henry nodded his head to her and stepped around the counter, parting the rattling beads as he stepped into the back of the restaurant and found Teddy there, doing what he was always doing; washing dishes.

“Teddy Wang?” He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, who wants--” Teddy started, setting the plate in his hand down and turned towards Henry, drying his hands on his filthy apron. “Oh shit!” He yelped, seeing the imposing Henry, and spun around, tripping over his feet, before catching himself on the edge of the sink and bolting out the back door of the restaurant.

Sighing through his nose and dropping his arms, Henry went after Teddy, quickly catching up to the kid in the trash filled alley, trying to scale a chain-link fence. He easily reached up, grabbing the back of Teddy's shirt and yanked him off the fence, before slamming his back against the grimy wall of his parents' restaurant.

“Look, I ain't got nothin'!” He barked at Henry, squirming.

“Is that so?” Henry smirked, deciding to have a little fun on Teddy's expense. “That's not what I heard.” He shoved a hand into the front pocket of Teddy's faded jeans. “Oh, what's this?” He grinned, pulling out a small, dime-sized bag from the pocket, a sky-blue powder inside of it.

“That's just Naproxen tablets, they must have gotten crushed.” Teddy gulped, looking like a caught sheep.

“Right.” Henry laughed, opening the bag and dumping it out onto the wet ground, then rubbing it out with the sole of his boot.

“Oh, come on, man!” Teddy whined, slumping back against the wall. “That's expensive.”

“Really? I thought Naproxen was only five creds?” Henry replied, tilting his head at the boy.

“One cred is too expensive down here, you'd know that, if you lived in this hell hole too.” Teddy sneered at him. “Marshal.”

Henry smirked at Teddy. “I wanna talk about Mikey Keagan.” He said, cutting to the chase.

“Oh fuck that!” He snapped, shaking his head. “I am getting tired of being roped into their fucking issues.”

“Their?”

“Yeah, their!” Teddy spat. “Mikey tries to rope me into his Running operations and his sister, the last time I saw her, she held me up at knife point, until I told her where her brother went.”

“When was this? That she held you up?” Henry asked, not buying his story about you holding him at knife point.

If only he knew.

“Eight or nine months ago.” Teddy replied. “Mike got into a fight with his parents about becoming a Runner for Jaxon Quinn, over in Sector Three of Bristol, and went down to the Thirty Sectors to stay with a friend. Issy comes by, a week later, and holds me up, until I tell her what friend he's staying with. Gave her shortcuts around the gates and everything.”

“What's the friend's name?” Henry asked, narrowing his eyes as he processed the story.

“Fynn Penmark.”

Henry looked Teddy over. “I'll let you off for having the Sub-Blue. But, if I ever find out you're in possession of it again, I'll make sure you're banished so far outside the walls of London, you'll be on a different fucking continent.” He threatened, pressing Teddy to the wall with a palm to the chest.

“Got it?” He hissed.

“Got it.” Teddy gulped, licking his lips and nodding his head, like a bobble-head.

“Good.” Henry pushed off of him and headed through the back door of the restaurant again.

“Hey, mister!” A boy on the street corner called out to Henry as he was unlocking his car.

“What!” Henry barked back at him.

“You lookin' for a girl?” He asked, and described you to him.

“That's her.” Henry nodded at him, leaning back against his car door. “What do you know about her?”

“What's in it for me?” The boy asked.

Henry chuckled, shaking his head. “What's your name, kid?”

“Oscar.”

“Well, Oscar.” Henry sighed, rubbing his forehead and carding his fingers through his hair. “What do you want for the information?”

Oscar looked around him and pointed back to Wang's Take-Away. “Lunch. She already got me breakfast to see if any of her family was home.” He confessed.

Henry half smirked at the little boy and finally recognized him, so you had been in the area within the last three hours. “Fair enough.” He agreed to Oscar's terms. “Information first, then lunch.”

“She's looking for her brother, says he's in some kind of trouble, didn't say what.” Oscar told him, fidgeting. “Then, she told the Chinese lady to give me some food, got some for herself, then left.” He pointed to the East, toward Sector Twenty-Nine's gate. “That way.”

“All right, kid.” Henry sighed, satisfied with the information and pushed off the car, going back into the restaurant and let Oscar get some food and a drink, before heading towards Sector Twenty-Nine's gate.

He figured you were going to go find this Fynn Penmark's flat, to see if your brother was there, or what Fynn knew about Mikey's whereabouts. Henry gave you credit, you would make a damn good Marshal with the level of forward-thinking and intuition you had going on, in the case of finding your brother. He was also relieved to know that his own intuition about your brother being in some kind of serious trouble was all so right.

Now, to find you and learn the rest of the facts on the matter.

It took some doing, but you finally found out where Fynn Penmark lived. But, as you approached the opening in the wall separating Sector Thirty and Thirty-One, your heart started to race and pound, hands shaking and palms sweating, it became hard to breathe. You stopped and pressed your hands to your face, trying to push back the terrified tears that streaked hotly down your cheeks. You felt like you were breaking loose.

“Are you okay?” A voice nearby asked.

You started, stumbling away from the concerned looking woman. “Stay away from me!” You barked at her, gasping for air.

The woman looked wildly at you, palms held out to show you she meant no harm, but stayed where she was standing. You stared at her, taking huge lungfuls of air, trying to fight off the dizziness clouding your brain and the bright, blinking spots in your eyes. Your tears finally stopped, but your hands still shook, and you could breathe a little bit easier.

“I'm sorry.” You apologized to the lady. “It's been a hard day.”

“It happens.” She replied, lowering her hands. “Do you need to get somewhere?”

“I know where I'm going, thank you though.” You assured her, even if it was possible she didn't mean you any harm, you weren't going to risk it, like you had the last time you were in these Sectors.

“I hope you find what you're looking for.” She told you, honestly.

“So, do I.” You nodded to her, politely.

You waited for her to go back about her business, before finding the opening and slipping through it, careful not to cut yourself again. Eric gave you point by point directions to the shabby building that Penmark lived in. You weren't surprised to find the lift in his building was broken, so you found the stairwell entrance and started mounting them to the twelfth floor.

“Flat 1283-A, Ms.” Eric's voice said through your headphones.

You found the dented and scuffed up door of Fynn Penmark and pounded on it, until he finally opened it. It took everything you had not to just burst out laughing. “Are you Fynn Penmark?” You asked, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Who wants to know?”

He was gangly, face pockmarked from severe acne, that he was still clearly suffering from, his greasy black hair fell to his shoulders, his filthy clothes might have fit properly, if he weighed more than a kilogram, and with the slightest intake of air, you could tell he hadn't showered in a while, he smelled ripe.

“I'm looking for Mike.” You told him, breathing through your mouth.

“I don't know any Mike.” He said, then slammed the door in your face.

Rolling your jaw, you started pounding on his door again.

“Look, bitch.”

“Call me a bitch, and I'll crack your head open with your own door.” You growled at him, heated. “I'm looking for Mikey, he's my brother. My twin brother.”

Fynn looked you over, then cracked a smile. “Oh, I see it now.” He chuckled, leaning against his door. “I haven't seen Mike in a week.”

“Do you know where the idiot's gone?” You asked him, folding your arms over your chest.

“His new handler, Knox Monroe, picked him up from here, as I said, a week ago, to take him to Bristol.”

“How long does it take to get to Bristol?”

“Depending on your transportation, anywhere from three hours to two days.”

“How do you take the three hour trip?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Have someone with a car pick you up and take you there.” He laughed, still smirking at you. “And I'm sure you don't. So, you'll be walking, and that's the two day option.”

“Doesn't seem so bad.” You sighed, frowning at the thought of walking that far.

“Are you stupid?” Fynn snapped, suddenly agitated. “Have you ever been outside the wall? Have you ever seen outside the wall? It's not rainbows and puppies out there. It's a barren fucking wasteland with pocket groups, that are more like feral wolves than humans, that would jump you, rob you and leave you for dead; if they didn't kill you in the process.”

“Have you been out there?” You asked him, chewing on your lip.

“Countless times.” Fynn nodded. “I make the run to Bristol, at least, once a month.”

“Can you take me?” You asked him, hopefully.

“No.” Fynn shook his head at you. “I've already made my run for the month and I don't take tag-alongs.”

“Can you tell me how to get there?” You tried to persuade him.

“Why is it so vital for you to go after him? He'll be back in a couple months.”

“Because, something bad is going to happen to him, and I have to warn him, before it happens.” You told him, desperate.

“Like, what?”

“Can you help me or not?” You snapped at him.

“All right, fine.” Fynn huffed back, rolling his eyes at you. “Come in.” He sighed, pushing the door open for you.

You hesitated for a moment, but stepped into the trashed flat. Fynn pushed some stuff aside until he found an electronic pad and pulled up a map he used to get from London to Bristol, the most efficient and safest way he could, when he did have to walk there. You watched him fuss over it for a few seconds, before holding his hand out to you.

“Mobile.” He grunted, rolling his eyes again and snatched it from your hand. “I'm giving you my best directions there, with a couple of notes, should you need to stay somewhere. Whatever you do, and I mean whatever you do, do not travel at night. I marked several places along the way you can stay at safely or get supplies from, just show them this.” He pulled up a logo on your mobile, his interlocking initials.

“They'll know I sent you and accommodate you, for free, and know you can be trusted.”

“Thank you.” You sighed, taking your mobile back.

“Hey, Mike is a good friend, and he's saved my ass more than once. So, I'm just returning the favor.” Fynn sighed, rubbing his face. “I wouldn't want Mike bashing my head in for getting his sister killed, that's for sure.”

There was a strong knock on the door and Fynn got up to check the peephole.

“Fuck, it's the Marshals.” He snapped.

“Big fellow, shoulders wider than the door, curls and beard?” You asked, your adrenaline pumping.

“You know him?” Fynn asked, shocked.

“You can say that.” You gulped, glancing around. “Please, you have to hide me. If he finds me here, he'll stop me from saving Mikey.” You pleaded with him, clutching at his cold hand. “Please, Fynn.”

“Fucking Christ, you Keagans are a wily bunch.” He huffed, then directed you into his bedroom. “Be quiet and don't touch anything.” He said, pointing a finger at you, before closing the door and rushing to answer Henry's incessant pounding.

“What the fuck do you want?” Fynn barked at Henry, almost able to look Henry in the eye, glaringly.

“High Marshal Cavill.” Henry said, flashing his badge in Fynn's face.

“And?” Fynn huffed, unperturbed, he had dealt with far scarier people, both High Marshals and Crime Bosses before, and wasn't afraid of Henry.

Henry could see that Fynn wasn't frightened by him and his tired blue eyes darkened, before he grabbed Fynn by the shirt and launched him backwards into his flat, then stepped inside himself, kicking the door closed behind him. While Henry didn't usually employ rough tactics and overly abuse his power as a Marshal, he wasn't wholly immune to it either, he still had his flaws and prejudice from his status as a high born and position in London.

“Fynnch Oliver Penmark.” He growled at the Runner and looked around the utterly trashed flat, a scowl of disgust on his face. “Rumor has it, that you're a Runner.” He said, settling his eyes back on Fynn, who was using the cluttered coffee table to pull himself up.

“Vicious rumors.” Fynn huffed, brushing himself off. “That dumb brain at my work place has it out for me, so he keeps trying to report me to the Council of Daily Operations.”

“You certainly don't spend much time at work.” Henry countered. “What were you again? A floor licker?”

“A Janitor.” Fynn barked, scowling. “I don't want to spend all my time in a hostile environment. So, I do enough hours to appease those blood thirsty bastards at the Council, and get paid.”

“We'll see how long that'll last.” Henry replied, folding his arms. “All I have to do is give them one word and they'll cut you off and you won't have this hell hole to keep you cozy in anymore.”

“What do you want, mate?” Fynn sighed with a growl, he was starting to think you weren't worth the trouble Henry wanted to make for him.

“I had a visit with a friend of yours, Teddy Wang, up in Sector Twenty-Eight.” Henry said, pushing aside some trash by his foot. “He told me that you might know something about Mikey Keagan and his sister.”

“I haven't seen Mike, in a week, and I've never met his sister.” Fynn replied, taking a seat on a clear spot on his couch.

“Funny.” Henry hummed, frowning at him. “I had a little informant tell me that she was seen coming this direction, to see you.”

“Well, either that informant lied to you or she's lost her way. Because she's not here or has she been.”

“I doubt you would tell me, if she was.”

“Look, if giving you information on her would get you out of my place and my business, then I'd give it and her to you. But, I don't know where she is and I haven't seen her.” Fynn told him, annoyed. “You can look around, if you want.” He said, motioning around his pig sty.

Henry glanced around with a dirty look, then looked back to Fynn. “I know you're lying to me.” He hissed, his gut was screaming. “So, you either tell me, or I'll make that call right now and arrest you on top of it.” He warned Fynn, taking out his mobile.

“Jesus!” Fynn barked, jumping to his feet. “Fine! She came by an hour ago, looking for her brother, and said she was afraid something bad was going to happen to him, if she didn't find him and warn him about it. She wanted to know when I saw him last and I told her, just like I told you, it's been a week since I saw Mike.”

“What did she do with that information?” Henry asked, lowering his phone.

“She asked if I knew where her brother went.”

“And, where is Mikey?”

“Bristol.” Fynn said, deflating.

“Bristol.” Henry repeated, sighing. “What is Mikey doing in Bristol?”

“I don't-”

Henry grabbed Fynn by the shirt and yanked him against him, narrowing his glowing blue eyes. “Out with it, Slum.” He growled, harshly.

“He's a Runner.” Fynn yelped, now he was frightened of Henry. “He's been a Runner for the last two years, and he's going to Bristol so he can be trained as an Adjutant Runner for one of the top Crime Bosses of Bristol, Jaxon Quinn.” He babbled out, his eyes huge. “I gave her directions on how to find him there and she left soon after, to start that way.” He added without Henry prompting or threatening him.

“Fuck.” Henry barked, pushing away from Fynn and storming out of his flat, cursing all the way down the hall.

“You can come out now.” Fynn huffed, opening his bedroom door a few minutes later.

“How could you tell him all that!” You snapped at him, punching him on the arm.

“Oh, chill your heels.” He growled, rubbing his arm. “He thinks you're already gone and doesn't know the route you'll be taking. Besides, he's a High Marshal, he's not going to leave the wall for some girl. The Councils wouldn't allow it and even the craziest and most determined Marshals have enough sense not to chance it.”

“I could have just given you away, after all the trouble the asshole gave me.” He added, sourly.

“Thanks.” You grumbled under your breath.

“Hey, when you see your brother again, tell him he owes me for a change.” He called after you.

“Tell him yourself.” You snapped over your shoulder and slammed his door shut.

“She's fucking stupid.”

Henry growled, every muscle in his body was wound up and tight as he thought of you crossing the desolate waste outside the London Wall to Bristol. The danger that laid between there and London, and the even worse danger that lived and functioned inside the city of Bristol itself.

“She's out of her mind!” He kept mumbling, all the way back down to the car. “She's going to get herself killed!” He sighed, running both hands through his hair and making a bigger mess of his wild curls.

“What!” He hissed at his mobile rang through his car's AI.

“Is that how you address your Supreme?” Reyes asked, stiffly.

Henry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. I'm sorry, sir. It's been a horrible morning.” He apologized.

“That Slave of yours keeping you up at night, Cavill.” Reyes laughed, his voice suggestive.

“Not exactly.” He huffed, spent.

“Well, either way.” Reyes sighed, sounding just as tired. “I need you to bring her in for her formal interview. The Council of Clerics have finally started the trials for the Trafficking.”

“Ugh.” Henry groaned, slumping in his seat. “Mother fucker.”

“Henry?” Reyes said slowly, hearing the sound of his voice.

“She's gone.” Henry admitted, regretfully. “I woke up this morning to her, gone. I've been trying to find her all day.”

“You lost her!”

“If you want to put it that way.” He mumbled, picking at his nails and feeling like he was getting scolded by his mother.

“Where is she?”

“Well, if I knew that, I would have her, wouldn't I?” He snapped back, forgetting himself for a moment.

“What have you been doing all day!?”

“Following every lead to find her that I could, Dylon.” Henry defended himself, exasperated. “I've been to her family home, her work place and even her twin brother's workplace, along with every one of their friends'.”

“And?” Reyes screamed, veins bulging from his forehead and neck.

“My latest Intel says, she's on her way to Bristol, to find her brother, Michail.” Henry sighed, his temples throbbing. “She believes he's in trouble, since he's an Adjutant Runner for Jaxon Quinn.”

“Are you telling me, your Slave, has a twin brother, that's a member of a top Crime Boss's business? The same Jaxon Quinn, that funds Twist's Trafficking?”

Henry swallowed, thickly. “Yes.”

“You realize, she's not only a top witness to Twist's operations, but Quinn's as well. She could help us bring him down, Henry! And you let her get away! How did you not know this to start with? Don't, don't fucking answer that. You know, if she gets there and Quinn realizes who she is-”

“He'll kill her.” Henry replied, his voice weakening.

“Has she left for Bristol yet?”

“As far as I know.” Henry replied, depressed on the matter. “I plan on going after her, Dylon.” He added, he had already made the choice to go after you, he didn't care what Dylon or the Councils said on the matter.

“You know, I can't officially back you in your decision to chase after a Slummer, Henry.” Reyes sighed, leaning against his desk and rubbing his own throbbing head. “But, as your friend and someone that wants to take down Twist and Quinn, you have my full backing.”

“What are we going to say when I don't come in for work, for however long it takes me to find and bring her back?”

“I want both of them, Henry. I want her and her brother. She's a witness and he's a conspirator in Quinn's business.” Dylon told him, bluntly. “I'll tell them that you are quite deeply undercover, trying to gain more info.”

“I'll need to go home and take Kal to Charlie's. I'll just tell him, I'm going undercover for a long while and will be back, when I crack the case.”

“That sounds fine.” Reyes nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. “Don't fuck this up, Henry.” He said, then hung up.

“Thanks.” Henry sighed, rolling his eyes.

You were careful as you made your way to the wall, knowing Henry was probably still lurking somewhere nearby, looking for you. You tried to stay in as well populated areas as you dared, hoping to dodge anyone working for Traffickers or getting spotted by Henry.

“Hey, do-”

“Fuck off.” You snapped as a guy approached you, not wanting anything he had to say or wanted from you, and picked up the pace of your walking.

It was starting to get late, after it taking all day to piece your way through the Sectors and follow your brother's footsteps. You probably would have been out of the city by now, if Henry hadn't showed up at Fynn's flat and took vital time interrogating him about you. You wondered how furious he would be to know how close to you he was in Fynn's place, and still didn't manage to catch you.

“We'd have to see each other again.” You mumbled to yourself.

The chances of seeing Henry again were probably pretty slim. After being gone for a little while, he would give up on trying to find you and go back to work for the Marshals and his life. A deep part of you throbbed though, you felt bad for leaving him like that, especially after everything he had done for you. He could have been an absolute monster and treated you like the Slummer that you are, forcing you to wear a Ownership bracelet and making you his proper Slave. But, Henry had been a complete gentleman to you, taking care of your every need and whim, it was almost like he had become your Slave. Then, the charging of several hundred credits to his account for the backpack and mobile, and the dress and jewelry for the party.

“He'll get over it.” You said, shaking your head. “He's a High Marshal, for fuck sake! He probably makes all that in a single case.” You huffed, rolling your eyes.

But, it didn't stop you from feeling bad for leaving him, without a single word.

“Take a right.” Eric's voice said, cutting into your train of thought.

Grunting, you took the quick right at his instruction. As you rounded the corner, you saw, several meters in front of you, the opening in the massive wall that encompassed the city and its citizens. The opening was one-third the size of the meter wide metal and rusted panel, a strip of dying light filtering through the four meter thick wall. Just a kilometer beyond that, was the first place you would be able to find shelter in for the night, then come first light, you would be on your way towards Bristol and your brother.

“Hey!” A harsh call barked behind you as you approached the gap.

You slowly turned and felt a hard lump form in your throat. It was a Beta Marshal, and he looked pissed. “Me?” You squeaked, pointing to yourself, sheepishly.

“Yes, you!” He hissed, face starting to go red with his anger. “Get away from the wall!”

“Why?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him, heart pounding.

“Because, I said so!”

You took a deep breath in and out, turned on your heels and dashed for it. The Beta Marshal screamed for you to stop and come back, but you ignored him. You dove into the opening and shimmed along it, going as quickly as you could, having to turn sideways in a couple of places to get through. The Marshal was still yelling at you, wedging himself into the gap to chase after you.

The light got bright and brighter, despite the sun setting lower and lower, as you struggled through the opening to the outside world, until you finally popped out on the other side, a cool breeze rushing passed you, fresh and clean. You turned back to the hole and saw the Beta Marshal panting about halfway, then made a dismissive motion with his hand and started back inside London.

You were home free now.

“Eric, where's the first safe house?” You asked, grinning and feeling victorious, despite the hundred and eighty-five kilometers between you and Bristol.

“Head straight for an hour, Ms.” Eric replied a moment later.

With Kal taken care of by his family, Henry returned to the Marshal Headquarters, intent on following after you, but knowing he needed better information on how to navigate the world outside London to do so.

“Henry.” Martin grinned as Henry entered his floor in the headquarters. “How are you?”

“Not in the mood.” Henry growled, folding his arms over his chest. “I know you have a Runner in your lock up, Lukas Hadwin.”

“Um,” Martin blinked up at Henry, then turned towards his computer and typed the name into his computer. “I do! He was arrested two months ago and is awaiting trial with the Council of Clerics.” He confirmed, turning back towards Henry.

“I want him brought to a private interrogation room on my floor, in the next five minutes.” Henry told the Alpha Marshall, then turned on his heels and marched back up the three floors to his office, needing the walk to calm down some of his anger.

Four minutes later, Martin shoved Lukas Hadwin into the private interrogation room on the High Marshall's floor, and handcuffed him to the table.

“Get out.” Henry barked at Martin, throwing the door open, startling both Martin and the Runner.

“But, Hen-” He started to protest, but his blood froze in his veins seeing the look on Henry's face. “High Marshall, he's my arrest, so he's my responsibility.”

“I outrank you, Sidwell.” Henry growled back at him, the anger he had managed to walk off started boiling again. “So, when I tell you to get out of my fucking interrogation room, I mean, get out.” He hissed.

Martin licked his lips, sheepishly, his mouth drying up. “Of course, High Marshall.” He croaked, edging around Henry, for the door.

“Mr. Hadwin.” Henry said, reaching up to the camera in the corner of the room and turning it off. “According to your extensive file, you're a high ranking Runner for a Bristol Crime Boss.”

“Total bullshit.” Lukas barked, trying hard to keep the angry and outraged expression on his face, despite shaking in his jail issued trainers. “My bitch of an ex-girlfriend reported me to the Council of Marshals, telling you corrupt pricks that I was a Runner, because I broke up with her and refused to pay her flat fees.”

“Is that so?” Henry replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Then, what's this?” He asked, dropping an open file on the table and pointed to a section of it. “Says you and another known Runner were arrested in 2864, for possession of a large cache of Sub-Blue. Your little partner in crime blabbed about how you both worked for a lucrative Crime Boss, running the drugs between Bristol and London.”

“Was he lying?”

Lukas glowered at the report, but didn't answer Henry's question; which only increased Henry's blood pressure. Grabbing the back of Lukas's neck, Henry slammed his face onto the metal table, cracking the screen on the file, and rested an uncomfortable amount of his weight on Lukas's neck.

“Was he lying?!” He yelled, directly into his ear.

“No!” Lukas cried out, squirming, fruitlessly.

“What Crime Boss?” Henry continued to yell.

“Benji Hernandez!” He squealed, whimpering.

Henry pushed off of Lukas's neck with a huff, he had heard about Hernandez, he had heard about all of the big time Crime Bosses that ruled Bristol like the Council of Clerics and Royals ruled London. But, Hernandez was the cream of the crop. His family was credited with establishing Bristol and bringing it to the level, almost on par, with London through deep waves of crime, selling every drug they could get their hands on or manufacture themselves, their number one seller was unsurprisingly, Sub-Blue.

Many Crime Bosses and groups had tried dethroning the Hernandez Family, and all had failed. They had too much money, too much power and their followers, all across England, were loyal, to the death. A massive turf war had broken out several years back, the first conflict of the sort since the end of the fourth war. It had mainly broken out and was confined in Bristol, with pockets of skirmishes in London and the other major city of England, Chester, before finally being squashed. Dozens of people were killed and maimed in the four month long battle, and the Hernandez's kept their throne and were still stronger than ever.

The Hernandez's family, friends and their most distinguished workers were the only ones that lived in Sector One and Two of Bristol, everyone else lived in Sector Three to Sector Fifteen.

“How do you get to Bristol?” Henry asked, pacing around the table.

“It depends.” Lukas panted, rubbing the back of his sore neck.

“On?” Henry pressed.

“The size of the load.” He replied, groaning. “If it's a small load, I'll walk there. If it's a large load, then we'll be driven from a checkpoint outside London to Bristol and back.”

Henry quietly paced around the room, brooding on his next course of action. He knew, for a fact, you wouldn't be driving to Bristol, or knew someone, other than your brother, who was already gone, that could drive you there. So, you had to be heading for Bristol on foot. He debated how he would follow after you, he could take his car to find you, sure he could reach you faster that way, but the moment he managed to get out of the wall with it, his car's on board locator would alert the appropriate channels and they'd go after him.

Especially since going after you wasn't authorized and being done quietly. Leaving Henry with the same option you had been saddled with.

Walking

“How do you get from London to Bristol?” He asked and leaned against the table, across from Lukas.

“There's two routes to Bristol.” Lukas sighed, knowing if he didn't tell Henry the information he wanted, the High Marshal would no doubt beat it out of him. “One is only used if you have a car, because pit stops are few and far between, and you don't want to be caught out there alone, especially at night. So, staying in the moving protection of a car is the best way for that path, since it's longer.”

“The other?”

“The other, is the one that's usually used by Runners that are walking between the two. It's shorter, by several kilometers, but slightly more dangerous than the car route, since it runs through several mini-towns that people, who were either banished or choose to live out there, populate. Some of them and the mini-towns are friendly and benevolent, but most are not. So, if you don't know what ones to stop in, chances are, you'll end up dead and stripped clean of any valuables they can take back into the cities and trade for goods.”

Henry gulped thickly, and felt a cold sweat break out on his skin as he battled the anxiety of you being out there, alone, for so long. He knew it was critically dangerous out there, but hearing Hadwin talking about it and the things between the two cities made it abundantly clear it was even more dangerous than he thought.

“Are you all right?” Lukas asked, seeing Henry's scruffy face steadily grow pale.

“I'm fine.” Henry growled, getting a handle on himself. “How do you know this other route, you used to walk there?”

“It's been used by thousands of Runners, for years.” Lukas laughed, shaking his head. “But, it was recently refined by another Runner.” He added, tugging on his cuffs. “Fynn Penmark recently compiled a map of safe places that Runners can stay for the nights and buy supplies.”

What were the chances? Henry thought.

“You'll be giving me that map.” He told him.

“I can't!”

Lukas squeaked, frightened at the thought of a High Marshal having the map showing him where Runners were coming and going from, the places they stayed and people that aided their operations.

“They'll kill me, if they find out I gave it to you!” He protested.

Henry leaned across the table, bringing his face close to Lukas's. “Look in my eyes and ask yourself, if you think I give a fuck?” He whispered, his tone cold and calculated.

“Now, give me the directions.”

Lukas gulped and nearly peed himself from the energy brewing off of Henry, who didn't pull back as he gave him the directions for the route. Henry looked over the map, making a legend of the symbols Lukas had made along the way, marking places to sleep and get supplies, as well as places that should be avoided at all costs. Once he was satisfied and sure the Runner wasn't lying to him and had told him all he knew, Henry stepped out into the hall and by Martin, not exchanging a single word with him.

Returning to his flat, Henry felt the quiet throughout it, without Kal's barked greeting and you either watching tv or listening to music. He missed those noises and being greeted by the both of you as he got home from work or wherever he had gone. Sighing, he grabbed a bag and stuffed a few items into it, a change of clothes, a small medical kit and a few other things he felt he might need, then checked to make sure his service weapon was still secure to his hip. Knowing it was getting cold out, Henry took off his coat and shirt, and pulled on his base layer HAMR, long sleeve shirt to wear under his black, knit sweater, before pulling his lightweight down jacket back over that.

Slinging his backpack over his back, situating his beanie on his head and zipping up his coat, Henry went back out the door, locking it up and rode the lift down to the ground floor. He knew a place in Sector Four with a large enough hole in the wall that he could squeeze through and start his journey to finding you.

Taking his best guess and trusting his gut feeling, Henry made his way to one of the first safe houses on the map, that you would likely stop in for the night. He just hoped he could get there before you left. But, you had an almost five hour head start on him already. Since, he had to spend so much time pulling information out of Hadwin, plus the nearly a two hour walk around the wall to get to the closest point to the house, and where you nearly had a straight shot to it, then the hour to the mini-town.

Within an hour of you both leaving Fynn's flat, Henry had entered the Marshal's Headquarters to interrogate the known Runner, Lukas Hadwin, on how to get to Bristol, and you had reached the opening in the wall. While you finally reached the safe town and your room, Henry had been grilling Hadwin for a tense hour. For the next two, you took a much needed rest, and Henry finally finished juicing Hadwin for every bit of info he had, including the map Fynn had given you for the trip. He then rushed home, taking Kal to Charlie's and packing a bag to follow after you.

Henry wasn't afraid of the nearly three hour walk to the house, in the middle of the night. He could easily protect himself, both with his weapon and his hands, it was you that consumed all of his worry and fear. You had nothing to protect you, other than your wits, but those would only get someone so far, before running out and getting you severely injured, or killed.

“Please, just keep her safe until I can reach her.” He said out loud, looking up at the inky black sky and twinkling stars.

“That's all I ask.” He sighed, walking faster.

You were exhausted after running around London all day, running from Henry and a Beta Marshall, then walking non-stop for a solid hour to reach the first safe place on Fynn's map, just as the last rays of sunlight died behind the horizon.

“Who are you and what do you want?” A hard looking woman behind a makeshift counter asked as you entered the decrepit building that was marked as a safe place.

“I'm a friend of Fynn's.” You told her, approaching the counter and showed her Fynn's logo off his map.

“I guess you want a room then?” She asked, turning her back to you and grabbed a key off the wall behind her.

“I do.” You replied, sheepishly.

“This way.” She rasped, disappearing through a doorway.

You gulped and followed after her, following her down a long dimly lit hallway with rows of doors on either side. She stopped by a door in the middle of the hallway and jammed the key in the lock and opened it. Pushing it open, she handed you the key and went back down the hall, leaving you alone. You leaned into the room, flicking on the light and finding it bare, only furnished with a bed, a single chair and nothing else, not even a window.

Sighing and figuring it was better than nothing, you stepped inside, closed and locked the door behind you, even shoving the chair up against it, for added security, before sitting down on the squeaky and dingy bed. Shrugging off your backpack, you unzipped it and pulled out a package of food you'd brought with you, slowly munching on it, before making sure Eric woke you up as soon as it was light out, and laid back on the bed; using your pack as a pillow. But, it took you a long time to fall asleep, the room was cold and there were scratching noises happening all around you, making you paranoid. But, eventually your exhaustion won out and you fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of your brother dying and Henry's voice calling out to you.

The time seemed so short, when Eric's voice sounded in your ears, and in reality, it had only been a mere two hours. Now, unknowingly, three hours ahead of Henry, you woke groggily and sat up, rubbing at your face, as you got up and pulled your backpack on. You removed the chair from your door and went down the hall to the front desk, finding the same lady there.

“Do you have a bathroom?” You asked her through a yawn and handed her the room key back, your bladder screaming.

She pointed to a door on the other side of the room and you went inside, grimacing at the filthy condition of it, but you really needed to pee, so you made do with it. Emptying your bladder, you looked at your map and found a supply store a mile up from you and headed that way, hoping for something decently hot, and was overjoyed to find a brewing coffee pot. You showed the supplier Fynn's mark, then filled a reusable cup with the hot brown liquid and roamed around as you sipped at it. Taking a couple more things of food, refilled your water bottle and pieced together something for breakfast.

“Thanks.” You smiled at the supplier as you finished your breakfast and refilled the coffee cup, before getting back on your way.

You made sure to follow Fynn's advice and the map, keeping your eyes to yourself and walking as quickly as you could to avoid trouble or attracting any unwanted attention. Everyone else around you did the same, there were very few people just standing around, those that were, begged for credits to buy things or trying to sell something else.

But, you ignored their harks and kept walking.

Once you were clear of the mini-town, you dared to have Eric put on some low music, the eerie quiet of the area playing on your anxious nerves as you headed for the next safe place, four hours to the north of your location. You decided to walk there as quickly as you could, then decide whether or not you could risk walking the extra two hours to the next one after that, without risking your own safety. Even though the sun had only just risen, you didn't want to play it risky or get cocky. If you did, and got yourself in trouble, you wouldn't make it to Bristol, hopefully in time to warn Mikey about potentially being in trouble, as Quinn's Runner.

“I'll make it, I know I will.” You assured yourself, pushing down the fearful anxiety. “I will.” You repeated, stubbornly, clenching your hands into fists. “I have too.” You added even softer, weakening to some of that concern.

“Have you seen this girl?” Henry asked, approaching a hard looking woman and showing her a photo he had taken of you and Kal, not that long ago.

“No.” The woman replied, shaking her head.

Henry narrowed his eyes at her, knowing she was lying through her missing teeth. Had he been in London, he would have simply slapped his badge on the counter and she would have sang like an Opera singer on opening night. But, he wasn't and that move would have sealed her lips up tighter than a crab's shell, and probably gotten him into a heap of trouble, wasting more of his time.

“Fine.” He sighed, turning away from her and heading back outside.

Glancing around, he spotted an elderly man standing at the corner, hands held out to every person that walked by him.

“Hey, old timer.” He said, walking up to him.

“Credit for a sandwich?” The old man asked, reaching his hands out to Henry.

“How about a sandwich for some information?” Henry asked, pulling a sandwich out of his pack. “Have you seen this girl?” He inquired, showing him your photo.

“Yeah, saw her super early this morning.” the old man replied, scratching his scraggly beard. “Just as I was setting up here, after first light, maybe three hours ago.”

“Looked in a mighty rush to be somewhere.” He added, nodding to himself.

“Thank you.” Henry thanked him and let him have the sandwich, plus an extra sandwich, just to be nice to the poor man, then started power walking away, knowing he was on the right path to find you and that the gap between you was steadily closing.

“I've got you now.” Henry smirked to himself.

150 notes · View notes

css1992 · 3 years

Text

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X / Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

What the fuck was he thinking?

That was the first thought in Peter’s mind when he opened his eyes the next morning and remembered what he had done the night before. Agreeing to meet with a subscriber, really, how dumb was that? It was one of those things he did before bed when his brain was too slow to make good decisions and then the next morning there were consequences. Consequences. Peter couldn’t deal with fucking consequences, he was still struggling with the fallout of his other terrible life choices.

I should cancel, he thought, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to wake himself up.

He should definitely cancel. Right. It was only reasonable. He could tell Tony he slept on it and realized it wasn’t such a good idea, after all. Or he could just say he was sick – for the foreseeable future. Or something. He would figure it out as he typed.

He sighed heavily and reached for his phone on the nightstand, pulling up his chat with Tony. He was going to call the whole thing off – he was! – but he made one crucial mistake. Before he started typing an excuse, he re-read the conversation from the night before. He didn’t understand why or how, but Tony’s words just – inebriated him, and by re-reading them, he was put under his spell all over again.

I need to see you, he said.

Not want. Not would like. Need. The word choice wasn’t lost on Peter, but he wondered if he was reading too much into it, if maybe Tony just said the first thing that came to mind without giving it much thought. But it couldn’t be casual, could it? Nobody would say they needed something casually.

Right?

He pictured the older man holding him close, whispering in his ear, “I need to see you”, until, somehow, in his imagination, words got lost somewhere and it became, “I need you”. Peter shivered just thinking about it. He was sure his voice would exude power and confidence, he just knew it, he wouldn’t be able to resist Tony’s commands, and yet–

Please.

He asked nicely. Peter was hyper-aware of the fact that the word “please” had an unreasonable and slightly concerning effect on him, he should probably talk to someone about that, but it just did. It fucking did. Tony could have demanded whatever he wanted – and embarrassingly, Peter would have probably said yes. He could have been an asshole about it, pushy, like some other people were, but no. He was…

I’ll treat you right.

Peter never stood a chance, he realized, sighing, letting his phone fall off his hand and onto the bed. That man knew exactly what he was doing, didn’t he? Peter wondered if he was that transparent, if anyone who talked to him for more than five minutes could see how needy he was, how badly he craved affection. If so, how embarrassing was that? A touch-starved porn star with feelings?

Ex-porn star, his brain supplied, and Peter rolled his eyes at himself. But still, technically, he was not a porn star anymore, he was more like… A model. A social media influencer? An adult entertainer. He could settle for that.

He picked his phone back up and looked at the chat, re-reading their conversation from the night before, over and over again. At least it didn’t seem like he thought Peter was a hooker – well, he hadn’t offered money, so Peter assumed he meant it as a casual meeting, not a business transaction. Nothing else has to happen, he promised. Nobody would ask a hooker out not expecting anything else to happen.

Right?

While he freaked out wondering what exactly he had gotten himself into, his phone beeped and vibrated in his hand, as he got a notification saying he had a text from an unknown number. He frowned, because not a lot of people had his number, but when he opened the text message, his heart dropped to his stomach.

“Hey, babe, it’s Quent. I saw you unblocked me on Instagram. Can we talk?”

He felt immediately dizzy, his vision blurred and his hands shook. His only reaction was to throw the phone as far away from him as he could, as if it was on fire. His throat closed up and breathing became harder, he thought he might suffocate, as he sat up on the bed and tried to take deep breaths. Deep breaths. Tried not to get lost in his –

“I can’t do this anymore, Pete,” was the first thing he said the minute the younger man walked out of the en suite bathroom, drying his hair with a towel.

“Do what?” He asked, confused, tilting his head to the side. He watched as Beck slowly got out of bed and walked to him. Peter noticed he wasn’t naked anymore, he had put on some pants and a t-shirt. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the situation.

“This. Us.” He gestured between them and Peter stared at him for a few seconds, as the words flew around in his head, refusing to provide any meaning. After a couple of minutes, he laughed weakly, even though his eyes burned and his chest felt crushed. Beck’s expression remained impassive.

“You’re joking, right?” Even as he asked that, he knew in his heart that he wasn’t. His face fell when Beck simply shook his head. “Quent… What...” He didn’t even know what to say, what to ask. He took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair, trying to stop his eyes from watering, Beck hated it when he cried for no reason. “Listen, let’s just – let’s just talk about this, I’m sure–“

“There’s nothing to talk about, Peter, I’ve made up my mind. I’m sorry.” He took the two steps that separated them and ran a hand down the younger man’s wet cheek and Peter grasped it desperately, as if it could make him stay. “You’re immature, needy and quite frankly… a little boring for someone who gets fucked for a living.”

“I can do better, Quent, I can change, please don’t – don’t leave me,” he begged quietly, voice cracking, barely audible over the sound of his own sobs. Beck winced, pulling his hand away.“Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please… Please, don’t leave me...” He shut his eyes tightly, trying to wake up from that nightmare. Just a few minutes earlier, everything was fine, they filmed a scene, Beck told him to get in the shower and the minute he walked back into the bedroom everything went to shit, how the fuck did that happen?

“This is exactly what I’m talking about, Peter. Look at you, listen to yourself right now. It’s… Pathetic.” He looked at him like he was the saddest sight he had ever seen, a mixture of pity and disgust, annoyance and impatience. Peter remembered a time when he looked at him like he was precious, like he was the most important person in the world… What went wrong? Where did he fuck up? How could he fix it?

“Quent, I-I – you’re all I–“

“That’s the problem, Pete,” he scoffed, shaking his head with an incredulous smile on his face. “I’m tired of being your everything, it’s exhausting. You’re exhausting.” He leaned against the wall next to the bedroom’s door, as Peter freaked out just a few feet away, thinking he was having an actual heart attack from how bad hearing that fucking hurt. “I don’t love you anymore.”

He was pulled from his memories when the doorbell rang and his heart jumped. Could it be him at the door? He couldn’t have found him, he had no idea where Ned and MJ lived – hell, he had no idea where Peter went, he didn’t even bother to ask. For all he knew, Peter could be living on the streets. He knew he had no money, no family, and he didn’t fucking care, he just fucking kicked him out, he barely gave him time to pack all of his things, his eyes were cold, arms crossed over his chest as he waited impatiently for Peter to leave. And he begged and kept begging, and–

Fuck, he was losing it. He was going back to that dark place he had barely crawled out from just weeks earlier.

He took a deep, calming breath and shook his head, trying to get his emotions under control. It was not Beck at the door. He had no way of finding him, and Peter knew he wouldn’t even try to. The only reason he had to contact him was probably a job. He knew a lot of people in the porn industry would still try to book him through Beck, since he was his agent for so long. That was obviously the reason he was trying to reach out. Money. As always. That was all.

So he took another deep breath and walked slowly to the front door. When he checked the peephole, Ned and MJ were casually standing outside, talking to each other like nothing was wrong in the world. He didn’t think twice and yanked the door open.

“Get dressed, loser, we’re going– what the fuck!?” MJ’s eyes almost jumped out of their sockets once she took a look at him. He knew he must look like garbage, he had no idea how he was even standing on his own two feet, he felt like his whole body was falling to pieces. He threw his arms around Ned, who was closest to him, and the older boy just pulled him close and let him bury his face in his neck, not missing a beat.

“Shh, it’s ok, buddy. Everything’s fine now.” He rubbed his back gently and Peter cried a little harder, a mixture of relief, sadness and regret filling his chest, leaving him confused and exhausted all at once. “Come on, let’s sit down for a minute. MJ, bring him some water, will you?” He pushed him lightly inside the apartment and directed him to the only piece of furniture in the living room, crouching down in front of him as MJ rummaged his tiny kitchen. “You ok, man?”

“I’m ok, I’m ok. It’s just… one of those days.” He forced a smile, trying to dry his face with the collar of his shirt. He didn’t want to tell them that Beck had tried to reach out, it would only cause them to worry unnecessarily. They were the ones who had convinced him to block his number, even if Peter insisted Beck would never call.

MJ hurried back from the kitchen and thrust a glass of water in his face, seeming a little nervous and completely out of her element. He realized that it was probably the first time they ever saw him in such bad shape, he didn’t have the energy to try to put up a strong front for them, which he always did, ever since he was a ten-year old boy. They had seen him cry before, of course, just probably not like that. Peter felt like shit and he knew he looked like it, too.

He drank the water that was offered to him just to have an excuse not to talk for a few seconds, as he tried to cool down and get himself back under control. MJ was fidgeting, standing beside Ned who was sitting on the floor, rubbing Peter’s knees comfortingly.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Ned asked, squeezing his leg, and he shook his head firmly.

“No, thanks. I’m fine, really. Did you have plans for today?” He looked at his friends and noticed they both had their jackets on and looked ready to go out. It was, after all, a sunny Saturday morning. “I’ll go get dressed right now.” He tried to get up from the armchair but MJ placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, we can stay in, if you want.” She assured him, still looking a little freaked out, which was funny to watch. She was never very good at comforting people.

“No, that’s stupid, come on,” He got up, forcing Ned to do the same, and headed to the bedroom, but the older boy grabbed his arm before he could go too far.

“Don’t worry, c’mon, let’s go down to our apartment, at least we have a couch.”

Peter wanted to insist that he was okay to go out, but if he was honest with himself, he was... not okay. To do anything. And he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts.

So he just nodded at his friends and followed them downstairs. Back at their place, he plopped down on the couch with MJ next to him, as Ned headed for the kitchen. He came back with ice cream and three spoons and Peter smiled weakly, appreciating the gesture.

“So… Bad day?” Ned asked sympathetically as Peter pretended to focus on the frozen desert.

“Bad day,” he answered, simply, with a small smile on his face, and his friend nodded in understanding.

“Did something happen or…?” He insisted and Peter stuffed his mouth with enough ice-cream to give himself a brain freeze, just so he could avoid talking for a while. He shrugged.

“No, just… Memories.”

“Of course,” MJ scoffed, as she stabbed the ice-cream with her spoon. “That asshole. I can’t believe he gets to be your first love. That fucking sucks.” Peter was sure MJ didn’t mean to make him feel bad – or rather, worse – but he hadn’t even thought about that yet. The fact that Beck was his first love. His first everything, really. Nothing could ever change that fact. He swallowed the lump in his throat with a spoonful of chocolate chip ice-cream. “Don’t worry, one day you’ll find a decent man who will show you what a healthy relationship looks like, you know. That perv deprived you of even that.” MJ shook her head and Peter sighed, wincing.

“I don’t think I can find a decent man, MJ,” he mumbled, looking down at the ice-cream pint. “I’m a certified whore now. Imagine Prince Charming googling my name and finding my gang bang video, or the fisting one.” He scoffed, shaking his head. He didn’t dare to look up at his friends, he played with the melting ice-cream and shrugged. “I’m sorry for the mental image.” His face was burning red, he hated to talk about his videos with them, but they needed a reality check. He was pretty sure they never watched the videos, so they had no idea how bad the situation was.

“Good thing you’re not looking for Prince Charming, then, Cinderella.” She rolled her eyes. “You need a man who understands that sex is just sex, it doesn’t matter how many people you slept with, or if it was filmed or not. Besides, it was just a fucking job, like any other, people use their bodies to work. Writers use their hands, waiters use their legs, you used your ass, so-fucking-what?” MJ argued and she genuinely seemed to believe her own words, which made Peter laugh a little and feel relieved that his friend didn’t think badly of him. That made one of them.

The thing was, it was a beautiful speech, big words, great ideas, but none of it meant anything because it wasn’t real. He believed MJ thought like that, but most people didn’t. Most people would look at him differently knowing he used to do porn and knowing that he still did solo stuff on Just4Fans. They would think it was fine to fantasize about him, it was fine to jerk off to him, maybe it would even be fine to have sex with him casually, but have a serious relationship with him? Probably not.

He must have been distracted for a while and jumped up a little when he felt Ned’s hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, dude. Not everyone is that narrow-minded, you know. At the end of the day, it’s just porn. A lot of people do it, even more people watch it, it’s not that big of a deal.” Ned shrugged and Peter looked at him a little surprised. He didn’t look freaked out at all by what he said earlier, which – he didn’t think he would be rude or anything, he just didn’t expect him to be so cool about it.

He smiled at him and nodded.

Peter spent the rest of the day at their place and gradually started feeling a little more like himself, a little calmer. His head hurt from such a rough morning, but having his friends by his side helped a lot. They had pizza for lunch and binge watched a sitcom for seven hours straight, which helped keep all the intrusive thoughts at bay. Well, mostly.

When he got home that night, he picked up his phone that was still lying on the floor. The screen was cracked, but at least it was still working. He quickly blocked Beck’s Instagram and his new number before he could think twice about it, and only then did he notice there was a message from Tony waiting for him, from a few hours earlier.

“Hey, gorgeous. How’s your day? I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Can’t wait to see you.”

For some weird reason, reading that message soothed him. It should have freaked him out, sent him over the edge again, but it didn’t. He had forgotten all about the fact that he agreed to meet Tony, but he was glad he did. He felt exhausted from all the emotions he had to deal with all day long and he thought he didn’t want to do anything but sleep it off, but talking to Tony sounded like an even better idea somehow.

“Not so good, I’m a little tired, but I’ll survive. How was yours, daddy?”

He wasn’t surprised when he got an answer right away.

“I’m sorry to hear that, kitten. I’d give you a foot rub if I was there, would that help?” Peter couldn’t help but smile at that message, which was a little shocking to him, he thought he had lost the ability to do that hours ago.

“That would help a lot, daddy.” He sighed, rolling onto his side, burying himself under the covers. “I wish you were here.” He didn’t expect to mean it so much, not when he was talking to a virtual stranger, but Tony had such a weird effect on him when they talked. Peter felt like he knew him, like they were intimate, like he was safe. And none of that made any sense, but he couldn’t help it.

“I wish I were there, too. I’d take good care of you.” Fuck, and he kept saying those things. Those beautiful things that made his stomach turn and his head hurt and his heart go wild. He was so fucked. “Dinner’s still up? Does Thursday night work for you?”

“Thursday works fine. I’m just a little nervous.” He curled on his side, looking closely at the cracked screen. Immediately, Tony started typing an answer.

“Please don’t be, sweetheart, I promise you’ll have a good time. We’ll have a nice meal, some fine wine, a good talk. What’s not to like?” That was exactly what Peter thought the previous night, and it had made perfect sense in his head. When he woke up, though, it didn’t sound reasonable at all. And now there he was, hypnotized again by Tony’s charm.

“I don’t know.” He bit his lip, wondering if he should say what he wanted to say or if it would be weird.

“Then, please, don’t worry. You can leave at any second if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“Okay.” He replied, worrying his bottom lip, working up the nerve to say what was on his mind. “Look, you know I’m not, like… a prostitute, right? Nor an escort. I just post dirty pictures online, which might be misleading, but I’m not a sex worker. I hope you know that.” There, he said it. He held his breath as he waited for Tony’s answer, who kept typing for what felt like ages.

“To be completely honest, no, I was not sure, and I didn’t want to offend you by asking, but this changes nothing. I didn’t ask to meet you for that, I hope you know. I just really need to see you in person. I like talking to you here, but I’d love to hear your voice, see your smile, make you laugh. I promise I have no ulterior motives.”

“Oh, you’re good.” Peter joked lightly, because it seemed like Tony always knew what to say to wrap him around his little finger.

“I am, baby, I promise. You’ll see.”

He was pretty sure he had heard similar promises before, beautiful words without any meaning. Still, for some reason, it wasn’t hard to believe him.

-x-

Tag list (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list): @sadachmesarthim @iamnotparticularlyproud

#starker #peter parker x tony stark

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upsteadhq · 4 years

Text

attempts

*same warning for the last two parts. this is whump and contains whumpy things, angst and blood*

masterlist series masterlist

Part Three

The more time went on, the more tired Jay could feel himself getting. The only thing keeping him awake was the previously fired gunshot still ringing in his head. He could still hear the echo of the bullet of leaving the chamber, of the body dropping to the ground and the ting that came after as the casing dropped on to the concrete.

It kept playing in his head as if it had just happened.

He was just praying the unconsciousness would take him under it’s wrath, maybe for good. He couldn’t go on without Hailey, there was no point.

In his delirious state the realization of the fact he couldn’t hear the shell casing hit the floor when the actual bullet rang out didn’t hit him until moments later. The first bullet had shot on the opposite side of the building, the other ones were getting closer. He swore they were getting closer.

But then all went quiet. No gunshots. No whispers. No footsteps. No, no, no. It was silent.

Jay tries moving, slowly starting to turn on to his shoulder so he could investigate the sudden silence but the stab coming from his abdomen stopped him, causing a pained groan to rise up the back of his throat and expel into the air. He allowed gravity to work and it took him on to his back and that’s when he assessed the damage done by the offender, seeing the large stain growing bigger by the second, now being able to feel the blood pooling out of the hole left by the bar.

He then catches the sound of footsteps coming toward the door again, which was now slightly pulled-to, and he braces himself for the next beat down, for the next set of punches and kicks.

He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes when he hears a voice calling his name, a familiar voice he knew in the back of his head.

“Jay? Jay?” The voice drew closer and then the person behind the voice calls over their shoulder. “Sarge! He’s in here!”

The sudden weight of hands against his abdomen brings another ached cough into the outside world, getting the voice’s attention again.

“Hey, Jay, look at me, you’re okay, we got you,” they say frantically and then in the corner of his eye Jay can see another figure appear in the doorway, this person looking down to him. The first voice then looks to the second. “We need another ambo here like five minutes ago, he’s dumping blood.”

The second one disappears out of the door again, and Jay could hear the gruff voice fading away, leaving him alone with the first.

Jay finds his own voice, speaking it through coughs. He stumbles the first few times, unable to get the full word to leave his mouth and the person hovering over him pushing down on his stomach shakes their head, telling him to save his energy. But he kept going, one thing on his mind and he needed an answer. “H- Hailey?”

The voice nods. “She’s fine, a little beaten up but she’s fine.”

There’s a momentary feeling of relief that comes over him as he knows Hailey is okay, enough to wash away all those anxious thoughts that had been keeping him awake. Now he knew she was okay he could fall asleep.

His eyes started dropping before cold hands slapped the side of his face gently. “No, Jay, you gotta stay awake, just stay awake for me.” The voice says, and Jay swears he recognizes it, but he can’t see the face of the person behind it. He couldn’t focus on figuring it out, all he wanted was to sleep.

Another tap to the side of his face. “Jay, please, just stay with me, you have to.”

But Jay could just feel his eyelids get heavier, the exhaustion hitting him over and over. He needed the nap.

He had been busy all day, no wonder he was tired. Surely this person should understand that, surely they should know he needs a rest, and that they should just let him have it.

Jay was getting more drowsy, everything fading away from around him quickly. The last thing he hears is the voice shouting his name, and it’s almost enough to pull him back into the dark, cold concrete hell-hole but it isn’t enough, and everything goes quiet, cutting to black.

xxx

When Jay finally opened his eyes again it was to the sound of a rhythmic beating echoing throughout the room. He was blinded by the bright overhead lights that filled the room, a huge contrast to the blackness he had seen for god knows how long and to the dim lighting he had been in for hours before that.

He rolls his head across the pillow, an ache started to throb through his head as he rubbed a newly-healing scar against the fabric, but the dull pain was nothing compared to what he had been feeling earlier that day, and he takes it the needle stuck into the back of his hand had something to do with that.

A voice from inside the room makes him move his head back to where it had been before, back in the direction of the origin of the noise. “Jay?” They called his name again.

Through squinted eyes he makes out the figure of the familiar red-head sitting at his bedside and Jay let’s out a grumble.

“Why’d they send in you? I would have preferred anyone but you.” Jay’s dry voice mumbles into the room, making his older brother chuckle.

“It’s nice to see you too,” Will remarks, leaning forward in the chair so he got closer to the bed. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Jay brings a small upturn to his lips, the numb pulling on his cheek making anything more than that sore. “You were worried about me.” He says in an amused way.

Will would have reached forward and smacked Jay for that one, for the playful hint in his voice, but after the day he had had, Will decides it’s best to just leave it alone. “Of course I was worried about you, dumbass, you’re my baby brother,” he says, causing Jay to roll his eyes. “And I will always be worried about you,” he adds before a smile comes up on his own face. “You are aware of the fact you’re not a cat, right? You do know you don’t have nine lives, so stop acting like it, you might not be so lucky next time.”

Jay shrugs. “I can be a cat.”

Will’s eyebrows furrow before he looks up, seeing the IV still dripping into his brother’s hand. “That’s the pain meds talking, why don’t you get some more rest?”

His younger brother then shakes his head. “Where’s Hailey?” Jay questions.

The red-head isn’t exactly surprised by Jay’s question, in fact he was quite expecting it. Over the past couple of months Will had noticed the drastic change in Jay. He was happier now than he was just a few months ago. Will had also picked up on the more obvious flirting between Jay and Hailey that happened at Molly’s after they had had one too many drinks. That and the constant absence from the apartment, Jay spending nights somewhere and coming back first thing in the morning to change before work. But as not to overstep into his brother’s personal life he pushed it off, nodding along with Jay when he used the “stayed late at the district doing paperwork and doesn’t have clothes in his locker” or “crashed at Adam’s after watching the game” card for the third time that week.

“She’s downstairs.” He replies, sparking another question from Jay immediately.

“Is she okay?”

Will nods. “Scrapes and a couple bruised ribs but nothing a bit of glue and time can’t fix.”

Jay tries to sit up, only to feel a sharp searing pain in his abdomen. Will jumps from the seat and pushes him back down on the bed fully, shaking his head quickly.

“You’ll pop the stitches, don’t move. You need to rest.”

Jay’s breathless now, the stinging taking his wind away and it was slowly coming back. “What stitches?”

Will points to the covered torso. “Those stitches. Just be careful.”

The vague memory of the attack from the offender then rushes back to Jay, telling him why he needed the stitches, the memory of one of the jagged ends of the bar cutting through his abdomen coming back to him.

He sighs, allowing himself to sink back into the uncomfortable pillow, starting to feel his eyes close again as the pain meds do their job. “I have to see Hailey.” He mumbles quietly.

Will taps Jay’s shoulder before sitting back down in the chair, noticing the tiredness coming over his brother again. “Once you’ve had a bit more rest,” he says, gaining an argumentative grunt from Jay in return. “We’ll get her up here for when you wake up again.”

There’s another complaining noise that comes from Jay as he tries to fight off the drowsiness but he doesn’t get the chance to voice his dissatisfaction over that before he’s out.

xxx

When he comes to again he’s still half-out if it, the pain meds still coursing through him, making everything hazy. He groggily looks around the recovery room he was still inside and sighs. All he wanted was his own bed at home, not the uncomfortable hospital bed with a needle stuck into the back of his hand. Although he was grateful for what the needle was doing to him, taking away most of the pain from earlier, so he guesses it can stay.

As his eyes travel around the room he spots a figure sat in the chair again and he doesn’t think too much of it until he realizes it wasn’t the figure that had been sat there what felt like moments before. He spots the loose blonde locks draped over her shoulders then notices the red cuts plastered up with steri-strips and bruises that littered her face. His heart sinks at the thought of her having to go through what he did, with the games and attacks, at the sight of what the offenders did to her too.

“Hey you.” She says through the small smile.

Jay was still half-asleep but he tries to mimic her expression, however he definitely doesn’t do it properly. “Hey.”

She stares to him for a moment before tilting her head to one side. “You look great.”

“I’ve looked better.” He says through a chuckle which he immediately regrets by the stiffness felt in his ribs.

“Actually I don’t know, I’ve kinda got used to you with all the cuts and scrapes. I think it suits you.”

Jay slowly shakes his head. “Well after these heal maybe I’ll get another set.”

Hailey let’s out a scoff, swiftly shutting down the idea. “Uh-uh.” She tuts.

They fall into a silence as Jay looks around the hospital room again. He puts his eyes on the pole sat beside his head, the one where the IV bag was hanging.

“Are you running low?” Hailey asks and he catches her slowly moving on the chair in the corner of his eye.

He looks back to her. “No, I don’t think so,” Jay replies, watching her sit herself back into the chair with a small grimace and his heart aches again. “You okay?”

Hailey nods, using her arms to sit herself up straight against the back of the chair instead, ditching the sliding back plan. “I should be asking you that question.”

Jay goes quiet again, watching her and he doesn’t notice how his face drops sadly but Hailey does, furrowing her eyebrows toward him.

“Jay, what’s wrong?” She asks and then Jay realizes the tears that had started stinging in his eyes.

He brings one of his hands up, the one that didn’t have the IV stuck into the dorsal side, and wiped his eyes, clearing his throat as he did and shaking her question off.

The more he sees her sitting there the more he thinks back to when he was lying on the cold concrete floor of the warehouse, that gunshot going off and ringing through his ears and that momentary dread he felt sit on his chest when he thought it was Hailey that had been hit.

Despite having just sat back, Hailey scoots forward again and leans toward the bed, grabbing hold of his free hand, lacing her fingers with his and the rule about keeping it professional at work - or anywhere else where one of their colleagues could walk in unannounced - flies out the window. “Jay, talk to me.”

His voice was dry and cracked and the multiple attempts to restore it back to normal doesn't work. “I don’t know, it’s stupid,” he sighs. “I thought it was you. When that gunshot went off, I thought it was you and I had just been stabbed but that didn’t bother me. All I could think about was how I didn’t want to carry on without you because I’m in love with you, Hailey, I have been for a long time and I don’t know what I would do without you,” he spills, not realizing what he had said until it was too late. He sees her reaction and his words play over in his head. They had only been dating a few months and he curses at himself for letting it blurt this early. “I didn’t actually want to say that to you for the first time in a hospital room. I’m so sorry if I overstepped.”

Hailey stops him before he could say anything else, squeezing his hand lightly as she slowly moved herself close enough to him. She ended up leaning over him on the bed, putting a soft kiss against his lips. It wasn’t anything more than that, it was intimate, delicate and it didn’t need to be anything more than that. After a beat she pulls away and looks past the bruises surrounding his eyes and scars scattered across his forehead and cheeks, moving past the evidence left behind from the events of today and just meets the gentle look in his eyes. “I’m in love with you too.”

taglist @5021ida @agnesgranberg97 @angelsjedi @anna-justice @benharmonsupremacy @fandomlife7 @natszyd @thedanishprince @who-am-i-58-13

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klaus-is-the-real-number-1 · 4 years

Text

The House of the Rising Sun (Number 5 x reader)

A/N: This is an unfinished fic ive had in my drafts for well over a year,, enjoy? based of s1

Crime rates had never been higher, gangs ravaging the city any opportunity they got dealing class A narcotics and carrying out random acts of violence. No one leaves their houses at night, as soon as the sun sets the streets would empty and complete anomie would take place. One ‘gang’ were set above the rest, they were practically the equivalent of the mafia, all dressed in a smartly pressed uniform and operating throughout the entire city, the Umbrella Academy. Rumour has it they all had ‘powers’ of some sort, making them the most powerful gang, even if they didn’t have their ‘powers’ they would still be in the lead having very high levels of violence between them.

The Umbrella Academy all had nicknames, a mere murmur of the said names would send people running like scared dogs, tails between their legs. The most feared of the Umbrella Academy was The Boy, just as him name suggested he was the one no one knew anything about, yes there was rumours but never any solid facts. The Boy had apparently travelled to the future, has a kill count of hundreds and can appear in a flash of blue from thin air, but these are just mad rumours that drift round town.

Dusk set upon the city but you didn’t notice, too busy finishing bouquets in your shop. You ran a small florists on the outskirts of the town, you never caused any trouble and had never stayed late until today. You glanced out the window and gasped, looking at the pitch black sky, feeling your heart rate increase at the thought of walking four blocks in the gang ridden town. As quickly as you could you close the shop, making sure the doors were locked and the solid metal shutters were firmly shut. You leave by the back door, locking it and closing the shutter yet again, not leaving your small life source of a shop to the vengeance of raging gangs who carry out pointless crimes.

Shadows hid your small frame as you quickly walked home, defenceless, hoping to miss anyone out at the late hours of the night. Unfortunately, luck was not playing on your side, from the shadows you could make out a group of lads making their way threateningly down the street. All you could do is pray that you wouldn’t get spotted in the dark shadows.

“Well what do we have here?” You quickened your pace somehow thinking that you could move away from them but you were wrong. You were surrounded like you were feeding bread to a flock of seagulls, if the seagulls were feral and had rabies it would mirror how afraid you were at that moment.

“Sorry!” Is all you were able to squeak out as you were roughly pulled out from the safeness of the dark into the centre of the group, your bag getting ripped off your back. Your frozen, watching them go through the contents of your bad, dumping out all your papers and pens that you had in your bag until finally finding your purse. “Please don’t it’s all I have.”

As soon as the words left your mouth you were on the ground, a numbing pain shooting through the side of your head, you could see heavy droplets of blood hit the floor as your nose bled from the impact. Another sharp impact landed against your ribs as a sob wracked through your shaking body, unable to comprehend how quickly the events had escalated, all you could do now is wait for the next impact but it never came.

“Hey, assholes!” The voice was crisp and sharp, dripping with confidence and authority. “Pick on someone your own size.”

Coins fell to the floor as the gang dropped your bag and your purse and ran, you couldn’t even look up, the thought of someone more threatening than an entire group sent shivers down your hurt body. You didn’t hear footsteps, all you saw from your peripheral vision a blue light and a dark figure. The rustling sound of papers cut through the silent street and the harsh zip of your bag startled you.

“You need to see someone about that.” You look up and were met with none other than The Boy, the most questioned of the Umbrella Academy, dressed in a smart uniform, domino mask securely covering his identity. His fingertips lightly brushed the side of your head, causing you to flinch away. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He said unconvincingly, emotions hidden by the mask.

He held your now packed bag out to you, you lifted yourself off the floor, wincing as you did so. You cautiously took your bag from The Boys hand, holding it loosely in your hand. Taking a step, you stumble, your side collapsing in on it’s self, The Boy caught you, putting his arm around your waist to steady you.

“Here, let me help you home, where do you live?” In your shattered state you told him, and in a blink of blue you were at your door. You messily fumble with your keys as your shaking hands roughly push your door open, dropping your bag into your small apartment.

“Thank you.” The mask clad boy stood before you, hands in his shorts pockets.

“It’s okay,” You couldn’t see his eyes but you knew they were scanning over your body. “Make sure to get your injuries checked over, they got you pretty hard y/n.” Then he was gone.

You lock your door and double check your windows, securing them before limping over to your bathroom, looking at your beaten form in the mirror. Red marks spread over your face and the side of your body, bruising already starting to form, blood stained your white patterned shirt with a now ruined name tag, the thought of work taking over your thoughts, well not all of your thoughts. The Boy was also on your thoughts, his cold emotionless face, half covered by a domino mask, contrasted with the softness of his words, the caring nature of his touch. He’s a crime lord, a dangerous man, yet he showed kindness to you.

Five was angry, he was angry with himself that he didn’t get there quick enough to stop them hurting y/n. She was the only pure thing left in the city and they went for her, defenceless. Five would’ve killed them on the spot if he didn’t want to hurt y/n any more than she already was. He wasn’t actively going out of his way to find y/n, she was sunshine in a grey and broken world.

“Five,” He hadn’t even finished teleporting into his room before Luther started speaking. “We’re not meant to be out on the streets. What were you doing?” Luther’s big frame towered over Five, attempting to threaten him.

“I was out doing what were meant to be doing, keeping our authority through the streets. Haven’t you heard that they’ve been saying we’re weak.” Five snarled at his brother prompting Luther to sigh then walk out. It wasn’t always like this, they could’ve been heroes but Mr Hargreeves only saw the darkness and the powers within them, he made them the best at being the worst and for some it was the end of the line.

An aching agony wracked through your fragile body as your head pounded like a thousand drummers sounding the beating retreat. You hoped a shower would ease any of the pain, warm water running over all of your bruises, the side of your body looking like a black and blue watercolour along your ribs. Your work clothes were just casual, simple, it was one of the upsides of owning your own business. However, you did have an apron, it had different flowers embroidered on it and a simple name tag. A name tag now covered in blood.

Quiet music softly played in the background of your flower shop, you swept the floor in time to the music, swaying your hips as you did so. Heading back to the storage room, you heard the bell to the shop chime, a welcoming noise.

“Hey, how can I help?” The man seemed startled, looking up at the arrangement of bouquets and flashing a quick smile.

“I’d like some flowers for my mom,” He almost hesitated with his words, a soft peach colour present on his cheeks. “I saw your shop yesterday and couldn’t remember the last time anyone had got her any.”

“Awe, that’s super sweet, have any of the bouquets caught your fancy or does she have a flower preference?” The boy in front of you was about the same age as you, maybe older, he had sharp features but they were even out by the softness of his eyes.

He thought for a moment, searching the deepest parts of his brain. “Lilies, she likes lilies.” You smile at his words before looking round your small, compacted shop for any pre-made bouquets.

“We don’t have any made up right now but if you come back,” You look at the clock, thinking about a convenient time for him to come back. “In about 2 hours I’ll have one made up for you?” You give him a sweet smile as he nods. “Great! If you want you can leave your name and number so I can text you when its done.”

You watch him messily write his details on a post it note. Peeling it off the block, you stick it to your notice board, looking at his name as you did so. Five. “I’ll send you a text once your bouquets done!”

“Ok, thank you,” He hesitated as he strained to read your name tag. “Y/n.”

“No problem, Five.” You see a small smile break out on his face as he left the shop. The rest of your day dragged as a slow drip of customers drifted in and out of the shop. You made a large bouquet of different types of lilies for Five, taking extra care to arrange them in the prettiest way you could, making it extra special for his mom.

You admire your handy work, loving when you get special orders being able to be as creative as you want. You send a text to Five saying that he can drop in any time from now until closing to pick them up, you get an almost instant response sending his thanks.

Shouting echoed down the street, sharp crashing of glass cutting through the air. Smoke drifted like ghosts down the street as screams echoed down the road of people coughing, spluttering grasping for breath. Peering out your shop window you saw them again, the lads from the night before, petrol bombs in hand ready to throw. You had to consider you options, quick, close the shutters quickly and run out the back or just run out and risk that they recognise you.

Quickly, you pulled the shutters down as you hear the unruly lads shouting get louder, you think your safe but then you remember the window upstairs, wide open, vulnerable. Taking two steps at a time but you were halfway to the window and heard a ‘get the flower shop’.

A flame like a rabid hare shot past you, shattering on the ground followed by another, hitting the window dead on surrounding you in flame, no escape in a smoke filling room. Smoke licked the walls as smoke danced in your lungs, making you feel lightheaded, blurring you vision. The floor burnt as you dropped to your knees, trying to take in any remaining oxygen, begging for your eyes not to close.

As Five walked back to the flower shop only to be met with shouting, screaming and sirens, noticing the smoke in the air he quickened his pace, only to break out into a sprint at the sight of the small flower shop in flames. He couldn’t see y/n out in the street in front of the shop, in a blind panic he blipped into the shop, looking round and seeing smoke pouring down the stairs, dread filling his body. In a blink of an eye he was in the burning room, finding y/n unconscious on the floor, he grabbed her body and as quickly as he could in the haze of the smoke.

He flashed to the academy, roughly shaking y/n shoulder. “Y/n,” He checked she was still breathing. “y/n please. Wake up. Mom!” Grace came round the corner, watching her son frantically shake an unconscious body.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Grace’s calming voice did nothing to sooth the panicking boy, she looked at the girls flame licked skin. “Take her to the medical room, Five.” Without another word Five had flashed upstairs, Grace beginning jogging up the stairs wrapping her medical apron around her as she did.

You gasp awake, proceeding to cough up whatever smoke settled in your lungs. You didn’t recognise the room around you, it didn’t look like any normal hospital, or even a hospital at all. Panicking at the foreign surroundings you drag yourself out of the bed, body screaming out at the heat in your arms and palms from the fire, the fire, your shop. Before even having time to comprehend the series of unfortunate events that led you up to this point, a woman walked in, sending heaving 1950/60′s vibe.

“Hello dear, I’m Grace.” Grace had a soft voice but it didn’t sound quite right, it sounded almost robotic, not human.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.” You pushed past her and hope to find a way out of the large eerie house you were in. Panic mode overtook your whole body as you tried to find any way out, footsteps echoing behind you as Grace tried to catch up with you but you saw the front door and ran for it.

“My dear, you can’t go yet!” But you had already ran out the door, it being left wide open behind you, sprinting down the street probably looking like a madman but in that moment it didn’t matter to you, you had to get out.

#The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #number 5 #number five #five hargreeves x reader #number 5 x reader #number five x reader #number five imagine #number five oneshot #number 5 imagine #five hargreeves imagine #this is so old and unfinished but al post it anyways

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slfcare · 4 years

Note

hi!! i hope you're well!! i believe i need ur advice or just someone to talk to. i am not a genius or an easily smart student but ive always gotten decent grades through really rigorous studying. im a slow learner, i need videos and my attention span is really flighty so i really prefer discussions and sometimes i get too sad to do work until someone pushes me to. now that classes happen online and i am at home, it feels like things have gotten more difficult. i have to deal with house chores. im the oldest sibling in our family & i do not really have the heart to ask my siblings to help me because i can see they are struggling with their classes. but it's also taking a toll on me. i have no time to do my class work, i feel like my mental health is deteriorating (if u must know, last year i got caught in my s*icide attempt and i was about to be brought to a professional but the pandemic happened and mental healthcare in my country isn't really a thing and i am honestly terrified of being "branded" or being named an illness. tbh i have nothing against mental illness, it's just the way my parents sees it and it sucks to be viewed as someone incapable or weird by my family. so i actually prefer not seeing any professionals.) and i feel so alone! i am repeating my last year of highschool in a new school and i know no one!! my friends had moved on to college and here i am, still in hs with no friends. i don't really know how to make friends online, i always feel anxious with private messaging, and i am scared they might know i was the one who tried to attempt her life. news is fast with things like that.

it feels lonely and frustrating doing and squeezing things alone and without anyone to help. i can't answer anything because i genuinely want to learn and understand and i do not understand anything!! i cant ask for help from my family because they too are busy and i do not want to intrude. and, as for my mental health and them— i feel they do not understand and i give up talking to them about it. and i did try to ask my parents for help once (about school not my mh) but they said i could just copy off this kid we're good acquaintances with. they say it doesn't matter if i understand it because it's all useless in the future but i want to understand it so much!! i dont want to just copy answers!!!

anyways, it would have been a bit better if my school did stuff like video classes but no, they just send in documents with so much pages for us to answer and submit through emails by the end of the week. now, ive earned quite a stack of untouched school work since the last week of october to this week. it's terrible, but i just lost all will to study. i feel so busy busy busy with the house and trying to keep my mental health in check. i am so desperate to just graduate and get it over with but i feel so hopeless about it! i don't know what to do!! i don't know how to fix up a routine! i just don't know!! maybe i just need to find a way to lighten up the load?? enjoy what im doing? (im so sorry for dumping all this to you, ive just never really talked about it and it honestly feel like too much on me)

Hey there angel,

I completely understand the weight you feel considering your current circumstances. School is obviously very different to what we’re all used to and adjusted to, so this major change is bound to have major consequences for everybody.

It makes complete sense for you to feel like you have a million responsibilities and feeling alone in that, but keeping that to yourself (however noble the cause) will perpetuate that loneliness. You’re very kind to not want to bother you siblings on top of the pressure you know they’re experiencing, but this workload shouldn’t just be yours, and dividing it will give everyone a bit to do instead of you having to do everything. At the end of the day, you’re struggling because this is too much for you. You’re not just feeling like it’s too much, but it actually is, and that’s okay. You don’t have to be everything for everyone at the same time and nobody will be disappointed or hurt or mad if you express that you need help.

Be more vocal, ask for help with chores, email your teachers or guidance counselor or both, and please don’t carry this on your own. That’s not what humans are made for.

I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for and I wish you happy, stress-free holidays.

#advice from a friend

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honeydots · 4 years

Note

127 with shuake would be good.

"My hands are not clean, and maybe they never will be, but they can still carry you home when you're ready to sleep."

once again. didnt forget abt these. im working thru em.

Summary: Goro wakes up one day in a hospital bed with only a bullet wound to keep him company, and not a single memory of who he used to be.

(ao3 link)

He was almost certain the last few weeks had been a dream.

Or maybe, several long and white coated dreams. The kinds with bright lights at an arm's length, and ill-fitting clothes, and men coming in waves carrying their clipboards as flags. With deep voices all at once whispering, echoing, “what is your name?”

Maybe he was in a hospital.

His first day of full consciousness was slow and lonely. His second day too, time spent wiggling his toes and counting ceiling spots. Day three he asked for a glass of water and scared a nurse out of her skin, and his week was kickstarted. Which only really meant an actual doctor came in and declared retrograde amnesia the only explanation for his condition.

His “condition” was quite the word to use. Which condition? They could play bingo. Was it his memory loss (obvious, weak narrative), or could it have been the state of comatose he’d been in (intriguing), or even the bullet wound (now here was a mystery, what a plotline) he’d heard remarkably little about? Amnesia, the fickle bastard, was the type to bring one answer to dinner, and disappear by morning.

But what did he know?

Well, he knew that this was a pretty shitty hospital. As far as how he assumed they should be managed, this one was on a low tier. And according to the nurse, as was their police station. Incompetent, and uncaring of his case, which had apparently been made.

It’d been a week now. He could get up. Limited, with his IV, but he could. The nurse said later that maybe the police would listen to him now, since he was conscious, basically up and kicking. ‘Listen to him now,’ was also an interesting phrase, because he hadn’t been speaking in the first place.

He wasn’t injured. His vitals were fine, the nurses had told him, and commented he was taking up an unnecessary bed. Not that he could actually make any kind of sound argument, which was frustrating enough on its own, but this didn’t seem like proper procedure.

He was, once again, very alone in his room. He thought about going to the police station. Incompetent as they may be, there would be no answers here. There was no one here to help him; some healthy boy in a hospital bed.

He got up. His IV was stuck in poorly, the tape just barely holding on. They’d disconnected him from all sorts of machines. Nothing was roping him down except for saline solution and his own two feet.

And, he was already standing.

It wasn’t hard to pull out.

His hospital gown was tied all the way down, falling just past his knees. He had odd socks on, their texture was weird, and they were several sizes too big. They were thick and patterned, maybe slip proof? But shoeless as he was, they would do.

The hallway was very empty. He was on the ground floor, but he wasn’t sure there were other stories. Maybe one, or a basement. It didn’t matter much. There just wasn’t anyone around. His concern was in that he didn’t know how long their absence would last.

There was a glass door at the end of the hallway.

To the police he’d go. A medical bill dodging amnesiac would probably get him some attention. Enough to get a name?

The door was not locked. That was probably good, for a hospital, and not a security breach, which is where his mind had initially gone.

Doors are meant to be opened, he thought. There really isn’t anything wrong with that.

It was just a little bright outside. The sun was up but not too far. He was in the parking lot, and it was almost entirely devoid of cars. Small, small hospital.

He didn’t exactly have a map, and no nurse was around to give him any condescending directions. He’d might as well go forward, then. He started walking, and thought to himself how odd his feet felt on the concrete.

No one was out. He hesitated to call it deserted, just maybe a bit early. He kept walking, nerves high, still worried he might get mauled by a stray doctor.

It seemed like this was a very small town, going by his surroundings. Lots of trees, and cracked roads, and old buildings. He didn’t think much of taking it all in. He’d have time for sightseeing when he remembered his initials.

A bit farther ahead was a woman, leaning on a car parked on the side of the road. She was glaring down at her phone. She looked— maybe irritated? Or tired. He wondered if he could ask her for directions. An aimless stroll through town wouldn’t take him to where he was going, after all.

“Excuse me,” he called, “Ma’am? Do you know the way to the police station?” He approached her with just enough caution to call it looking out for himself, ignoring the sorry state he was already in.

She glanced up from her phone. Her hair was short, and dark, and it bobbed around her face. She registered him for a moment, and her eyes went big.

“Holy shit.”

He knew enough to know that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “I need to go to the police, please.”

The woman kept staring at him. “You—” she stuttered, “are you Goro Akechi? You are, aren’t you?”

This encounter was already going awry. Did she know him? “Do you know me?”

“Uh…I mean, no, we’ve never met.” She pushed herself off her car, and slowly put her phone back into her pocket.

That wasn’t really what he meant. He needed to persist, here. This could be a lucky hit. “No I— Do you know who I am?”

Blatant confusion spread across her face. “Uh… Are you not Goro Akechi?”

“I don’t know,” he answered.

She stared at him again, almost suspicious. Then she looked him up and down.

“Are you… coming from the hospital?”

“Yes.” He watched her mouth open just a bit in disbelief. He wondered how this woman knew him. If explaining would get more information out of her, then he’d do it. Privacy only existed when you had something to protect, after all. “I’ve been given an amnesiac diagnosis, you see. I’m going to the police station to see if I can find any sort of lead on myself.”

She looked shocked. “Amnesia? And you’re going to the cops?” She blinked, and suddenly looked very serious. She grabbed one of his shoulders. “Wait. That’s bad news. Don’t go to the police.”

He (Goro?) hadn’t expected to hear that.“What? And why shouldn’t I?”

“You… holy shit, kid, do you actually have amnesia?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen you need to— oh good god, this is gonna sound like I’m trying to kidnap you— I definitely know who you are. I can tell you but we shouldn’t… here. If someone finds you… ” She exhaled hard, and looked him dead on. It made Goro freeze. “Fuck, okay. The gist of it is— you’re in more danger than you realize. Like, a lot more. Will you come talk with me in my car?”

Alright. So, a lot to process, and a lot he didn’t know how to. He didn’t even know if he should process it, or if that was the kind of story that should be immediately disregarded. Someone telling you to not go to the police and please get in their car seemed like a textbook stranger-danger red flag. There had been something uneasy about her tone, though. Like genuine concern— not that such a thing couldn’t be perfected and acted, however.

But she’d given him a name. And it felt almost tangible, the more he thought about it. Less bendable and more sturdy. It was very easy to attach to himself. And it was a lead, wasn’t it?

“Hey, did you get discharged, or are you just wandering around? Cause they’re gonna be looking for you if they didn’t let you out,” said the woman, jump starting Goro (almost certainly, Goro) out of his head. “And kid, I cannot just let you turn yourself in to the cops.”

‘Turn myself in,’ he thought to himself. Such particular wording. It made his stomach drop. This woman knew more than him, clearly. And really, for fucks sake, if he died, he died. Obviously he hadn’t left enough of a mark on anyone to warrant not a single visitor during a five year coma. According to the nurses, it was more evident that he’d simply been dumped in town— like someone had already been trying to get rid of him.

Well, whoever they were, they’d forgotten to bury his bones.

He straightened himself up. “Okay.”

She looked surprised, at first. She swallowed around it. “...Yep, okay then. Hop in before you change your mind.” She popped open her car door, and Goro circled around the side and followed suit.

Her car was messy. It was filled with food wrappers and empty bottles, but papers and notebooks were scattered around, too. So she kept busy, it seemed. He decided he’d consider this a point in the not-about-to-murder-you direction. Too much here that could be used as evidence against her. Too personalized. He was almost envious.

She adjusted her seat forwards and turned on the ignition. She was a bit jittery, Goro noticed, as she scratched the back of her head vigorously.

“So, I’m gonna drive us somewhere that isn’t here but I can talk and drive so, just— like, just a second, okay?”

He nodded. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. “...Goddamn,” she muttered, and then pressed down on the gas, turning her car onto the barren road.

She kept her eyes forward, but kept true to her promise of talking. She sighed. “Right. So, uh, to start… Okay, first, my name’s Ichiko Ohya, I’m a journalist. Get that cleared away. Next comes you which is a bit more complicated, but you probably wanna know why we’re dodging cops so I’ll start there. Or, as close to there as I can.”

He would take anything he could get from her, actually. The cops situation was undeniably concerning, but right now he was essentially a sentient empty shell, absorbing everything for the first time. A kid in a metaphorical candy store, but the store was a dodgy reporter who still might be kidnapping him and just stalling. He’d call himself the kid, but it dawned on him he didn’t even know how old he was. Fantastic. More things the hospital staff hadn’t bothered to tell him.

“Your name’s Goro Akechi. I told you that already but, that’s you. At least I’m like, ninety percent sure.” She spared him a glance. “You do look a bit different but all in all I’m— I’m pretty sure. Just the hair and the stubble, you know.”

Goro hadn’t exactly looked in a mirror recently, so no, he didn’t know. He knew he had long hair— certainly longer than Ohya’s. He rubbed his jaw and felt the rough and gritty bristles that had prickled onto him. It bothered him that he didn’t know. It bothered him that he didn’t know what he looked like.

Ohya continued, not letting him dwell for long. “You’re also sort of famous. Well, you were, and it was mainly with teenagers and moms in the city, but you were a popular detective. So, that’s how I know you. And I swear I’m getting to the running from cops part, but you have to know this first first. Oh, shit, it’s right here.” She took a sharp turn into a grocery store, and Goro had to grip the side to keep steady in his seat.

She didn’t act very sheepish about it. “Sorry, for that. We’re gonna talk in here.”

She paused her explanation to pull into a spot, which Goro felt a little thankful for because, under his circumstances, that felt like a lot of information to take in. He was well known, but not well known enough that anyone out here knew him. ‘Famous detective’ raised some weird alarms in his head, a position absurd enough that it might be true. It felt unfortunately right, like a disappointing truth. It was different from his name, more unwelcome. But it didn’t click either. Nothing had been clicking at all.

There was a pit growing in his stomach, like something was in there, chewing down on his insides. But he’d found he didn’t care for ignorance, so he would put up with it for as long as it took.

Ohya turned her car off, pushed her seat away from the wheel, and got herself comfortable. She faced him, nonchalant but sincere. “So this is where the really juicy stuff comes in, alright? So like, listen up now, if you weren’t.” There was something very serious about her eyes.

As if he’d have let any of her explanation slip under his radar. “I’m listening.”

That was a good enough answer for her, it seemed.

“I’m trying to think of the best way to explain this, honestly,” she started, thumbing the back of her hand. “You… okay, there was this guy. He was a really big politician that you were involved with, and it’s kind of a gray area as far as what you were doing for him, but you and him worked together. Kind of. He was a really shitty guy.”

She looked like she was considering her words. She turned her focus out the windshield for a moment, and sighed again. “He basically ended up confessing because this group— well, actually, they don’t matter right now. He confessed, and he talked about you. For some of it. It was a long fucking confession. But half of what he said wasn’t even coherent. He was talking about some crazy shit and no one knows what he meant by it. You were part of that whole section.” She paused again, thinking. Goro let the silence sit. He didn’t want to jump to a conclusion until he’d heard her out. Which was proving difficult, truthfully, because this all left a sour taste in his mouth, one that had almost certainly been there before.

“They wanted to take you in for questioning, but you disappeared. And, to add fuel to the fire, they were having a hard time getting any actual concrete evidence,” she began. “Can’t make an arrest based on a confession alone. He did other things, too, and that's what he ended up being indicted for, but there's still that problem. This whole chunk of confession is still there that technically lines up with his timeline of events, but there’s no way to prove it. That’s why they want you,” Ohya’s expression darkened. “At least, publicly, that’s why they want you.”

She readjusted in her seat again. She faced him fully. “This guy— Shido’s his name— he’s got goons. Not to mention, he had complete control over the police, and there are other higher up’s who worked with him. Some of those guys got busted with Shido’s confession, but there’s a few where there just isn’t enough evidence to put ‘em away. These are the ones who you need to watch out for.” She took a deep breath, not finished.

“I’m gonna be frank with you,” she continued. “They want you dead. They don’t want a single loose end, and you’re still dangling. The police are on their side. Are you understanding me?”

Goro tried to let the words sink in. That was more than a lot to think about. The creature in his stomach was grinning now, he could tell. But, this was also no time to get overwhelmed. If her words were true— which, the overwrought familiarity of her explanation compelled him to trust them— he needed to keep his head above the water.

“So these— subordinates. You’re saying they’re after my life? They can’t be actively hunting me down, if they have the influence you’re implying, or I’d have been found by now,” Goro said, deciding to ignore the fear creeping up his spine. “So then, what’s my public status? How unlikely was it that I was the egoless comatose patient they were searching for?”

“Uh…” said Ohya, seeming like she was the stunned one. “Well, you’re right, they don’t really have a manhunt right now. I guess I don’t need to worry about beating around the bush here— you’re presumed dead.”

Interesting. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said, furrowing his brow. “But, obviously, a body was never found. They’re probably prioritizing morgues then, not hospitals. That does explain why I wasn’t discovered after all this time.” Though, if they’re smart, they’d also keep an eye on cases like his. They probably were, in fact. He’d gotten lucky that the police here were clueless.

Ohya gave him a very funny look. “You know, it’s almost creepy how well you’re taking this. You were in a coma this whole time?” She shook her head. “I’d have thought you’d be more out of it, honestly.”

“Is this not what you’d consider a wake-up call? I’ve been ‘out of it’ for a week. It’s common sense that I’d react like this,” he told her. Just going outside had cleared his head. He had a feeling hospitals had never been a fitting place for him. “Yes, I was in a coma,” he added, as an afterthought. “They said I’d been shot.”

Just as the words left his mouth, he realized the implications that had.

Ohya noticed just as fast. “You said shot?”

They’d certainly both had the same assumption— maybe an attempt had already been made after his life.

But there was something that felt wrong about that scenario, too. “I’m not… entirely sure it’s what you think it is,“ he replied. Maybe wrong wasn’t the correct word but, it wasn’t completely right either. “There’s no benefit to not making my body public. And, if they’re really after me, it seems messy, to say the least, that they didn’t finish the job properly.” He tried to speak confidently. The effort was familiar, too. Part of him wondered when he’d get the chance to do some self-analysis and tear himself apart.

Ohya caught on very quick, rolling with every punch Goro gave. “Christ, kid. What kind of shady shit were you into? So we’re thinking you’ve got another group after you?”

“I don’t know.”

He really didn’t. There were missing pieces, but that was evident. He had no end of missing pieces. If he was supposed to be some detective, then maybe he should get on with acting like it, and figure out whatever the hell this was.

Whatever business he’d wrapped himself into.

Ohya, again, spoke too quickly for Goro to finish digging through his own head.

“Maaan, I’ve really got myself into something haven’t I?” She rubbed her eyes, like she was already exhausted. “Look, I’m a busy woman. Don’t expect much out of me, but apparently I’ve got a bad habit of adopting puppies. So I’ll see if I can at least point you in the right direction, okay?”

He didn’t have much of another choice, other than to let himself be killed. He nodded again, not sure whether to call himself pleased or solemn.

She buzzed her lips and looked at him, obviously thinking. Then she opened her car door. “Well, okay. First things first, you gotta get some clothes, ‘cause you can’t go walking around like that. God, you don’t even have shoes…” She got out and stretched, and then turned back to him for one last comment. “Don’t expect much, okay? I’m not made of money. Don’t you dare go anywhere, either.”

She slammed the door shut and started walking into the store.

Goro was glad for the moment of peace. He let his jaw relax, closing his eyes. He hated how familiar the stress felt, and how desperate he was to welcome the feeling. A life or death promise was about as thrilling as one day should get.

Getting any memory back was his top priority. But he didn’t have an inkling of where to start. He didn’t have a phone, or a computer, and certainly not a home. He guessed he could use a public computer at a library, but just searching himself might raise more questions than answers. They’d be important questions, he was sure, but he wondered about the bias, the assumptions, the fact that it’d be an outside perspective looking in. He didn’t know how delicately he should go about regaining his memories.

Not to mention, he had only the word of a stranger and a low feeling in his stomach confirming he was even Goro Akechi. And now, with the reputation he’d had, if he even wanted to be him was questionable. Memories of such a life seemed… unpleasurable, at best, but he hadn’t set himself up to be able to just start over. Remembering his past was his best chance at plain old survival.

He wanted to have some kind of plan before Ohya came back, but he was drawing blanks. What he really needed was someone who knew him personally. Beyond media attention, if there was a single poor soul around who’d actually known him. He found himself doubting such an existence, past anyone who was out for his head.

He heard the car doors unlock, and he opened his eyes. Ohya was walking back with two bags, and she was on her phone again, barely looking where she was going. Well, there goes him having a plan. Bouncing ideas back and forth was the last thing he wanted to do. It was time wasted and he knew he would get frustrated, but his choices were limited. At least Ohya seemed pretty knowledgeable. It was possible she knew more than she was letting on, too.

She opened up the car door and tossed the bags onto his lap. “Hey,” she began, setting herself back into place, “I got your stuff but— I remembered something in there that might be a good starting place for you, if I can run that by ya.”

Or, of course, he could hear Ohya out and avoid idea bouncing all together. Something solid had come by much quicker than he thought.

*****

Ohya’s plan wasn’t bad at all.

She’d told him she had a contact from a few years ago, who was in charge of a bundle of self storage units. Apparently a certain “Goro Akechi” had registered himself one a couple months or so after Goro’s public disappearance. They’d told her once they noticed the name, but Ohya hadn’t taken up the lead at the time. When Goro asked why they’d even told her that, she left it at “no reason important,” and kept the topic adamantly off the table. Goro would push the envelope if it weren’t for the fact that his life (a life he didn’t even know he had, for the record, and one that still bothered him) was on the line.

If this unit did belong to him, there could be a very solid lead on himself in there, and leads on his acquaintances, too. Ohya didn’t know if the garage still existed, though. So she said she’d give them a call and see if they could figure something out.

Which is what led to Goro sitting in a barber’s chair. After he’d gotten dressed (an ensemble of sweats, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes) Ohya had commented that he looked like he belonged in a homeless shelter, and “really needed a haircut.”

She said something about how he’d always kept himself looking clean, and Goro believed it. He was already feeling discomfited the way he was. So unkempt and basically filthy. So, she decided that while she was getting her contact all in order, she’d pay for him getting a trim and a shave.

She was helping him more than he’d expected her to, in ways he didn’t really expect. But he’d take what he could get. He’d hardly had a reason to say no.

He sat waiting in front of a mirror. He hadn’t gotten a good look at himself until now, but god, she was right, he looked pretty fucking bad.

The first thought that came to him was sickly. Eyes sunken in, deep bags under his eyes. You wouldn’t expect him to have just been in a permanent state of slumber for the past five years. Or maybe the correct assumption would be, a coma hadn’t been enough sleep for him.

His hair was just below his shoulders, and he had a very pitiful looking beard. He didn’t recognize himself. He didn’t think that would change much after his haircut, but it made him itch. It was a face that didn’t feel like his. He wanted to rip it off and replace it with a new one, one he knew better.

Maybe he’d never liked looking at his reflection.

Ohya had spoken to the barber for him. The one he got either wasn’t the talkative type, or really got his vibe of not wanting to speak to anyone. She went to work in silence, washing his hair with fruity shampoo and dressing him in a long black apron. That was all fine, albeit uncomfortable, but once she started cutting, Goro found he couldn't watch. The snips were loud, and definite, and it left his chest feeling tight. He couldn’t do anything but let his thoughts run blank.

He wondered if that was hair he’d had before his incident, now falling away. He’d have the same eyes, and organs, and teeth, too. But he felt all wrong in this body. Like it had gone on without him.

He was thankful when she moved to his beard. Just for a moment, though, because having someone so close to his face made him want to retreat as far back into himself as possible. A blade so close to his throat. He wondered how hard of a push it would take to make a cut. He wondered how deeply he’d have to go to make it bleed.

Maybe he’d always hated barbers, too.

When she’d announced she was finished, and Goro forced himself to look back in the mirror, it actually took him aback. It had taken years off him. She’d styled his bangs, and left no hair on his chin, but most importantly, it was clean. Soft looking. Pleasant.

It was almost enough to distract him from the discolored scar plastered on his forehead.

He stared for probably too long. His disheveled bangs had kept it clearly out of view on his first glance, but now that he was fresh and groomed, it pushed its way into the limelight. It was reddish, and almost shiny, and painstakingly circular.

He could feel dread bubbling up. He tore himself away from the mirror, and found an instant sense of relief when he wasn’t staring anymore.

Reflections and barbers. More to read into later, he supposed. He was learning he had been quite the hassle. What an annoyance.

Ohya met him at the entrance. Pure amusement was all over her face. “Shorter than I expected, but you’re looking pretty smart like that.” Her eyes went to his scar, but she made no comment on it. She frowned, but that was all.

Goro didn’t mind her reluctance on the topic. He raised his eyebrows, and spoke with the silent mutual understanding of “that is one gnarly goddamn scar” between them. “Ah, and I’m sure the sweatpants add to the look.”

“Watch it,” she snapped back, sliding into her usual demeanor. “Not like I could get you Levi’s, kid.”

She paid for his haircut, and out of the shop they went. They walked to the car in anticipating silence. She had her phone out again, texting someone now. Goro didn’t want to get his hopes up. Texting could mean anything, or nothing, or half of one or the other.

She pushed her seat back getting into the car, and pulled one leg up with her. Goro waited for her to speak, keeping himself tense. He really wouldn’t be able to loosen up if he tried, like a wound up doll who’d gotten stuck.

Ohya broke the quiet. “It’s still there.”

Goro sucked in, but didn’t let himself relax. Nothing ended there. It was one check off a list, but not all of them.

“And can we go in?”

Ohya blew air out of her mouth. “Well, she said she wants to make sure it's you, because there's only so many privacy laws she wants to break.” She shrugged at him. “But honestly, looking at you now, there's not a doubt in my mind you’re Goro Akechi. So, you can chill about it.”

He leaned back into his seat. The tensity had not left him. Something was making him lucky today, and he hated it. He would feel much more comfortable in the mitts of misfortune. But he couldn’t help feeling giddy, too. Like something was rubbing circles into his back, easing, but not erasing, bits and pieces of his concerns. It was something to focus on, and a goal to achieve. Above all, that relief made him feel pathetic.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to go today or not, but you look more thrilled than I think I’ve ever seen you, so I’m just gonna take that as a yes.”

He hated the way she worded that. He frowned. “Only if you’re as concerned about my identity as you seemed to be earlier. You’re welcome to take your time, I’m surely not going anywhere.”

“You’re snarky! I never realized you had an attitude,” Ohya laughed.

She got the car going, and they were on their way to the unit. Apparently it was quite a ways, and Ohya advised him he’d better buckle in for a long one.

He could feel his eyelids getting heavy. He had things he wanted to think about, and questions he wanted to ask. Working up a tolerance to being active was not something that could be done in a day, but fuck if he wouldn’t try anyway.

But, despite how he tried to fight it, Goro fell asleep.

*****

He woke up when they were about ten minutes from the units. Ohya commented she’d thought it was a little funny that he’d been so exhausted doing just about nothing all day, but admitted too that his body was probably pretty weak, and he really should take it easy. As easy as he could, at least.

They were both quiet for the remainder of the drive. The sun was getting low now. They were passing by suburbs between grassy fields, driving past exit by exit. He had no idea how long they’d been going for. Ohya had called herself busy, and Goro believed it, so her continual help felt unusual. People weren’t just like this, he was almost sure.

She also knew things that felt… almost inappropriately relevant to him. The topic of the unit still tingled in the back of his mind. Why had they called her about his storage? And for that matter, why had she even known so much about him? The information she had felt intimate— like the results of a deep investigation. Had this all been yielded from that politician?

But Ohya had a distinct air of privacy. There could’ve been something personal about her aid, but Goro figured that she wouldn’t crack easily. It might be better to leave it— personal matters tended to yield lasting effects, after all. At least, he assumed so. He really wasn’t sure if that was as big of a plus as it appeared on the surface, though.

When the centre came into view, Goro let those thoughts ease into the back of his mind. He could focus on Ohya’s MO later. This was leaps and bounds more important to him; if anything was going to last, it was this. He could play detective, just like he was supposed to, and maybe come across some special clue. Perhaps he could test out his muscle memory and flex whatever skills he presumed he’d had.

They arrived, and it looked extremely closed. Like the only customers they’d been expecting were ghosts. The lights in the windows were off, and the gate guarding the units was shut tight. It wasn’t encouraging.

Ohya read his expression pretty clearly. She bumped his shoulder with her fist. “She knows we’re coming, my contact’s still here. The front just closes at 6:00. I’ll deal with it, so just stay put for now.”

And just as she said, after she hopped out of her car and approached the office, the door swiftly opened and a woman joined Ohya outside. The two of them seemed friendly. Goro watched as they talked, noting quizzically to himself that Ohya was someone who talked with her hands.

Ohya gestured to her car and they both looked over to Goro. He watched them walk over, and obeyed smartly when Ohya signaled him to roll down his window.

The woman peeked her head around to look at him, her eyebrows arched high. “Wow,” she said, completely staring now. “I mean, he looks like him, that’s for sure.”

Ohya grinned. “Sure does. That enough for you to let us in?” She didn’t really say it as a request, more like an expectation. Goro appreciated the tone.

She fiddled with her bottom lip. “Hmm. You said amnesia? He got any doctor's notes about that?” She asked, giving cue to Ohya’s sour expression.

“You didn’t say a word about notes

on the phone, you know.”

The contact clicked her tongue, and looked back to Goro. She bit the inside of her cheek, and sighed. “Just cause it’s you, Ohya, I’ll take that nasty scar on his forehead as my confirmation.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Come with me inside, I’ll get his key.”

Ohya made a haughty noise of achievement, and followed the woman back in. Goro rolled up the window again.

They were taking a little while. He rubbed at his scar absentmindedly. So obviously a bullet wound, maybe that had been the real reason his barber hadn’t made much conversation. Whoever tried to kill him had shot just where it counted. You don’t fire a warning shot into a head. He wondered if he’d deserved it, and doubted he didn’t.

Goro removed his hand when Ohya reemerged from the building, and she was looking confident. She slid back into her car and jingled the key to his unit victoriously. “Easy peasy. She’s gonna open the gate for us in a second. Your unit number is 508.”

They waited for a little while, nerves ever growing, until the automatic gates opened on their own, groaning and creaking until fully extended. Ohya started her car and drove in, squinting at the unit numbers in the low light.

Rows upon rows of garages awaited them. This must’ve been a pretty large lot, by the looks of things. The dirt road was the only uneven piece of scenery, the repetition was endless. He kept a watchful eye on the unit numbers, as well, skipping between the evens and the odds.

After a few right turns, and one very tight u-turn, they were there. 508 stood wedged between its neighbors, almost at the end of the row, but not quite. Not a thing stood out about it. It was just as gray and worn and untouched as the rest of the facility. Not even the dirt was remarkable. It reminded him of the hospital.

Ohya held the key out to Goro.

“I’m assuming you want this to be a ‘just you’ kinda thing?”

The gesture was something he should’ve expected, but didn’t. It made him hesitate for a moment.

He took the key. “I appreciate it,” he said.

“No sweat.”

He got out of her car, and she drove off to the end of the row. She stayed parked within general sight of the unit. It was essentially pseudo privacy, but neither of them knew how long he’d be in there, and who knows what this could trigger. Ohya also didn’t seem like she knew a thing about amnesia. He wouldn’t look to her for comfort of any sort, but there was reassurance in her being a safe figure.

He took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. This was his step one. He’d gotten himself into some deep shit, his past self hadn’t seemed to have a shred of self preservation in mind. Had he not encountered Ohya, he could’ve been dead by the hands of the crooks that call themselves the police by now. He had a lot more steps to cover, and each one would be riskier than the next. He was much more on his own than he realistically should’ve been. Most people had friends, as far as he knew. But this was seemingly his own fault. He wanted to know why exactly it was his fault.

One more deep breath.

He inserted the key into the lock, and grabbed the handle of the metal shutter. He pushed up, and with a squeak of rust and a bang of metal, he opened up his door to more dangerous times.

And it was nearly empty.

It was barren concrete. Newly disturbed dust was floating about. It was eerily quiet, and the stale air made his throat itch. Cobwebs stuck in the corners, barely visible in the low light of the setting sun. Though he wouldn’t call it underwhelming.

In the center of the floor was a cardboard box. About medium sized, without a lid. It matched well with the rest of the room, lined with dust and unaltered. He kneeled in front of it.

It was its contents that felt much more exciting. There were papers, lots of them. Thick manila envelopes full of information for him to flip through. He scooted back towards the entrance and pulled the box along with, trying to get the last of the light funneling in to help him read.

It was heavier than he expected, and he didn’t know how much to attribute that to his current lack of strength. He took out the first envelope and it, despite the dust, was clear and candid. When he flipped it around, he noticed with eagerness that there was writing on the front. He tried to make it out as clearly as he could, and in careful handwriting, it read: “05/21/2020— Case No. 1471”

It was a case file. He pulled out another envelope, and it was similarly marked. His interest was surely piqued. There must’ve been some sort of relevance to these, if they were going to be so pointedly left here. He pulled out a third, and then a fourth, and from the weight he’d expected many more. But, the pile ended there. Instead, what filled the rest of the box was another, smaller, wooden one.

He took it out delicately, gripping it securely around the sides to ensure he didn’t drop it. This seemed much more… personal. Shiny cherry wood, latched but not locked, just small enough to sit on his lap firmly. A thought that couldn’t help but be excited came to mind.

This could’ve belonged to me.

He wasted no time. He undid the latch, and it gave a satisfying click. The hinges creaked just barely as his clammy hands lifted the lid, and pulled all the way back, until it rested hanging by itself.

Inside sat more papers. Some were crisper than others, some had obviously been crumpled and then flattened out again. But there was consistency in each of them being folded neatly in half, stacked neatly on top of each other.

He picked up the one from the beginning of the pile, unfolded it, and was surprised to find it had hardly been written on; a simple “To you,” at the top. This was a candidate that had been clearly wadded up and discarded. He set it down carefully, and picked up the next.

This one hadn’t been written on much, either. It said even less, just “Hello.”

He picked up another, and another. It was all soft stationary, each topped with slightly different wordings, and some decorated with a couple lines, even. But they were all just about the same, a simple greeting, and then resigning.

They were letters. Or rather— drafts for one. So he’d learned today that he was indecisive, maybe a bit quick tempered, but potentially also at least organized. He assumed the existence of these drafts meant he’d never gotten around to sending his letter, either. And perhaps he’d never get such a chance, if this visit didn’t convince any muggy memories to creep out of their caves.

As he pulled out drafts and read his pathetic one-liners, he came across a page that was different. There was actually a fair amount of content on it, over a paragraph's worth. It had obviously also been cast aside, but even a spare scrap could be useful to him, in this state. He used the last of the remaining light to read it.

“To whom it may concern,

I would like to skip the inherent shamefulness of writing a letter to you, of all things, in my introduction, and I will title this ambiguously under the assumption that if you believe this does truly not concern you, that you will save me the mortification of reading through it anyways.

I won’t formally phrase this as a farewell, but you should take it as one.

Our unknowns are too great to write, and while you were not innocent, neither am I, and there are truths between the two of us that shouldn’t have remained unspoken. I’ve never thought to run from the blame.

My hands are not clean, and maybe they never will be, but they can still carry you home when you’re ready to sleep.

Perhaps a fact I recognized too late.

I do not want to say goodbye, however I—“

It cut off.

The letter left a lump in Goro’s throat. He read it through once more. He wanted to analyze each sentence down to its core, but the light had died out. But there were bits and pieces, words that suck out in his mind. “Farewell,” “Innocent,” “Unspoken.”

“Too late.”

Goro bit down on his lip hard. The case files— those he understood. With the life he’d allegedly lived and the people he’d known, of course something like that would be predominant. They were fact on paper, ignorant of bias, they’d be full of names and leads. They were important. But, he didn’t understand why these almost-letters had been left here. Out of anything that could’ve been kept. Had there been someone he’d felt so strongly for? To be kept in safety behind lock and key?

To identify this person— that could be his next goal to achieving his memories. To ignite the fire of their eventual reunion, and perhaps they could know what happened to him. They could come easy, though he suspected that anyone who he’d decided to be so rottenly open with wouldn’t be typical. But, they would also know him, past the media, past the appearances.

And, though he wasn’t going to admit it, he’d needed something more hopeful to work towards.

He put the papers back where they belonged, placed the entire case back into the cardboard box, and stacked the case files back atop it.

There was no telling how old these letters were. They could’ve been from much before his incident. But this set him up for a goal, a big one, that might get him back to whatever meager place he’d left himself in.

He picked up the box, and prepared himself to head back outside to Ohya. He needed to muster up his resolve, because this was only the first out of two very important clues this visit could provide.

He positioned the box onto his waist, and took one last look into the dark before closing up his unit. He returned to Ohya’s car, pulling open the door without so much as a greeting, and set the box on the floor in front of his seat.

Ohya leaned forward, interested. “That a box you got?”

He wasn’t going to talk about the embarrassing letters he found. Even if he wanted to, his second clue came first. “It’s not that important right now,” he lied. “Is your contact still here?”

She raised her eyebrows at him, but let the topic drop. “Sure is. She can’t leave ‘till we leave.”

Good. “I need to speak with her.”

She hummed in reply, seeming very curious by his idea. They drove back up to the entrance, Ohya not questioning his motives, but still giving him an inquiring side eye every so often.

They got out of the car together this time, and walked into the front office. The woman was reading behind the counter, almost completely in the dark, with only a desk lamp lighting her work area.

She glanced up at them, and placed her book upside down. “Hey there. You got that key?”

“Yes,” Goro replied. He placed it lightly on the counter. She took it without a word, and got up to put it back on its hook. Goro stopped her before she turned. “I have a question for you.”

She seemed a little surprised. She glanced between him and Ohya, and then put her free hand on her hip. “Okay?”

He hoped he could push his luck just a bit further today. He’d made it this far, after all.

“Is there any way I can see the documentation that was filed when this unit was made?” he asked.

The woman pursed her lips. “Ohya?”

Ohya put her hands up defensively. “Don’t look at me. This is all him.”

The woman stared at Goro. He stared back. This was arguably the most important part of the visit. He needed to see those papers. Just a single particular part, it was the one factor that needed an explanation. He would not leave until he got that documentation, and if he had to stand his ground and pull her leg a bit to get it, he would.

After their staring contest lasted just a moment too long, she folded her arms. “Jeez. Only because I feel bad for you, okay?” she huffed, turning on her heel. “And because my niece liked your food blog.”

She disappeared into the back of the office, leaving Goro feeling just a bit full of himself. He would think about the food blog comment later.

Ohya lightly punched his arm. “Okay, good going. But whatcha going to do with that?”

“There’s something I need to check,” he replied flatly. It made Ohya grunt unenthusiastically.

The woman returned with a few papers, all paper clipped together. She tossed them onto the counter. “This is a customer copy, okay? So feel free to keep it.” She glared at Ohya. “And, I’m going home now. So, get out, please.”

That got a laugh out of Ohya. “I know I can always count on you to bend a couple of rules for me.”

“Out.”

They left the building, Ohya waving her last goodbyes while Goro rushed to the car. He needed to get some light on these papers, it was long past sundown now. He slid himself into the car, clicked on one of the lights, and went to work reading, all while Ohya was still walking over.

Ohya opened her door and stood outside watching him, leaning on the frame. First, it was with interest, but it soon turned into irritation.

“Kid, tell me what you’re looking for. You’ve got your eyeballs all over that thing,” she said.

He didn’t let their conversation stop him from reading. He kept his eyes glued to the page, checking each word and box before moving on.

He did owe her an explanation. Getting his thoughts out would help him focus a bit, anyway.

“These sorts of things— storage units. Wouldn't they be paid for recurrently?”

Ohya went quiet for a moment. “They are,” she said, and joined him in the car. “Shit. Those funds can’t be coming from you, can they.”

“Exactly. I’m looking for the responsible billing party.” He turned onto the next page. None of the handwriting matched what he’d seen on his papers and files, which further confirmed to him that this unit hadn’t been one he’d purchased himself. Whoever this was had put all that information in there, those cases, those letters. He suspected they weren’t his mystery recipient, but he could confirm that with them once they’d met.

Why this had been done in his name, though, was beyond him.

He flipped onto the last page, and found his prize. Big black bolded letters asking for the responsible parties name, and neat penmanship filling in the blank.

“Sae Niijima,” he read aloud.

Ohya gawked.

“‘Sae Niijima?’ Seriously?” she scoffed to herself, and sunk down further in her seat. “She’s an attorney. A damn good one, too.”

An attorney? He wondered how she could’ve known him. “She’s the one paying, apparently.”

Ohya tapped long slender fingers onto her steering wheel again. She dropped her head. “Guess that means she’s our next lead, huh?”

Goro adjusted himself in his seat. “It does.”

“Ahh, man,” she complained. “You’re really somebody who’s in with the big guns, you know. You better let me have some exclusive with you after all this is done, or something.”

Goro gave way a hint of a smile. Probably his first since he’d woken up. If this would be the last of his luck, so be it. He hated to rely on something so shifty and mischievous, anyways. This was a start, barely a sprout, to whatever his big picture was. But he’d see himself to the very top.

Really, he’d already died once. Hardly a way to go but up.

“We’ll see.”

#thank u for the aaaask!!!#this is shuake but akira is actually not in it at all whatsoever #also im so sorry i know the ending is. unsatisfying.#i just realized if i wanted the most satisfying ending possible this would go from 8k to like 32k at least #maybe once i post all these prompts on ao3 ill consider adding chapters to this cause i do like the premise #this is also like. my first published non comedic piece. so a lot of this is experimental for myself #anyway i hope you enjoy!!!#my fics #ask #anonymous #my p5 fics

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