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edettethegreat · 4 years

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How to stage King Lear so that Edmund’s 100% more sympathetic and Gloucester’s 100% more of a jerk

( the prequel )

( the sequel )

(This is 100% about Edmund. If you wanna read stuff about other characters then this isn’t the post for you)

(Seriously this isn’t about anyone other than Edmund)

(This is your final warning- enjoy!)

(Or don’t I don’t care I’m really tired and I have midterms to study for)

General Staging

-every time Edmund and Gloucester are on stage together, they gravitate away from each other. Kinda like what happens when you try to push two magnets together. If one takes a step towards the other, the other moves away.

-Gloucester rarely ever looks at Edmund. He often walks in front of him when both are walking together. In scenes where a three way conversation is taking place between himself, Edmund, and someone else, he looks at the other person the whole time.

-Edmund faces away from people when he’s lying to them. Often by standing in front of them (but like, across the stage from them so the audience can see them both) (like this—->)

(I deleted the picture accidentally this is not ok now I have to draw it again)

Casting/ Costumes

-(I’m only gonna be talking about the characters that I actually care about how they’re cast)

-Edmund: someone of average height, yet shorter than Gloucester, Edgar, and Cornwall. Around the same height as Albany and Goneril. Taller than Regan. Is attractive (obviously. That’s one of the first things we’re told about him), but leaning more towards cute than hot (as per my analysis in a previous post). Wears shades of grey- all of his costumes make it clear that he’s upper class, but they’re not overly flashy.

-Gloucester: If I get even one Santa Claus vibe, I’m gonna punch a wall. He should have zero resemblance to Santa. I just saw a production of Lear where he may as well have been a mall Santa. I wanted to scream. Anyway. Onto what he should look like. I honestly don’t care, as long as i can’t mistake him for Santa. It’s the vibe that counts. ANYWAY. His costume is obnoxiously ostentatious, but it gets gradually more normal as the overall stress level increases.

-Edgar: taller than Edmund, and physically more muscular, but in like “Disney channel movie football player side character who’s no one’s primary love interest and is kinda dumb” sort of way. (Future Edette Editing: What I meant was “he’s a himbo”) He’s not ultra hot, but he’s not exactly ugly either. He’s pretty average looking. He wears shades of brown, because I feel like that suits him.

-Cornwall: tall but doesn’t give off Tall Person Vibes. Preferably with dark brown or black hair, but other colors can work as well. I cannot imagine him wearing anything other than suits that are mostly black with some shades of red somewhere- I don’t care how you incorporate the shades of red into his costume, as long as they’re there.

-Albany: has a dark shade of blond hair, or a medium shade of brown hair. Any other hair color just doesn’t work. (Future Edette Editing: any color hair other than black is fine for Albany). Dresses sensibly and wears really boring costumes.

-Goneril, Regan, and Cordelia have at least a little bit of a family resemblance. Please. Their costumes are similar as well- all wear standard types of clothes you’d expect the princesses of England to wear.

ACT 1 SCENE 1

- Gloucester and Kent enter the stage with Edmund trailing behind them. They’re entering the palace from outside. Idk how England’s weather works, but I decided that the whole play takes place in the fall. I’m not wrong. It does. It doesn’t feel like the sort of play to take place in any other season. You can all fight me on this in the comments, I have no evidence to back up this claim. Anyway, they’re all wear jackets. Because it’s fall.

-As Kent and Gloucester say their first lines, they take their jackets off. It’s hot inside the palace. Edmund leaves his jacket on. It’s not a heavy jacket. He’ll be fine.

-As Gloucester finishes up his first line “...can make choice of either’s moiety” he hands his jacket to Edmund. He does this in a very natural way- it’s clear this is something he does instinctively, without thinking about it. Edmund takes it. He takes it instinctively as well, without thinking about it.

-Kent, watching this says the line “Is not this your son, my lord?”. As in “hey dude. Isn’t he your kid? Why are you treating him like a servant or a coatrack?”

-at “His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge”, Gloucester puts a hand on Edmund’s shoulder in a “yes this is my son” sort of way. He does that a bit too roughly- not in any attempt to hurt Edmund, but definitely showing that he’s doing it for show and not in genuine fatherly affection.

-While Gloucester talks about Edmund, a waiter goes around with champagne glasses. Maybe they have actual liquid (ie water) in them, maybe not. I don’t care. Anyway, both Gloucester and Edmund take one.

-As Gloucester continues talking, he slowly sips whatever alcoholic beverage is in the champagne glass. (Probably champagne, but hey, I’m no expert on alcohol). NO, this isn’t to imply that he’s only speaking Like That (TM) because he’s drunk. He is not drunk.

-meanwhile Edmund downs the whole glass, in the standard theatre way of “I don’t wanna be here and I don’t wanna deal with this”

-Gloucester hands his empty glass to Edmund. He seems to suddenly remember that Edmund is, in fact, there. He says him line “Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund?”

-At “my services to your lordship” he would bow or something (I don’t know English nobility etiquette, sorry), but he’s currently holding two glasses and a jacket, so he partially bows to the best of his ability.

ACT 1 SCENE 2

- A main set piece for this play would be a door or two on wheels that can be moved around. People really like entering and exiting buildings.

-ANYWAY. Edmund comes in through said door, currently located at the back of the stage. Gloucester house have a portrait of Gloucester family in huge on the wall. Gloucester’s in the middle, with Edgar on one said and Edmund on the other. At this point this should go without saying, but the gap between Gloucester and Edmund is much larger than the gap between Gloucester and Edgar. There’s also a desk and chair somewhere on stage.

-As he starts his first soliloquy, he takes off his jacket that he was wearing in scene 1 and drapes it over the back of the chair

-at “legitimate Edgar, I must have your land”, he turns towards the portrait and looks at Edgar. Then there’s a pause in the soliloquy as he goes over to the desk and writes The Letter (TM). Then he continues the soliloquy with “Our father’s love is to the bastard Edmund..”

-Gloucester enters. He doesn’t notice Edmund.

-As Gloucester asks Edmund for the letter, he and Edmund slowly circle around the stage, the way you’d see animals circling when they’re preparing to fight each other. They’re not going to fight. Not directly at least.

-Gloucester doesn’t make direct eye contact with Edmund for most of this scene

-Until he does, at the line “Give me the letter, sir.”. The line itself is said very forcefully. Both Gloucester and Edmund have stopped circling each other. They stand at opposite ends of the stage. There is a pause, and then Edmund takes the letter back out of his pocket and gives it as he continues saying his lines.

-Gloucester spends the remainder of the scene looking at the letter instead of at Edmund.

-“Edmund, seek him out..” is said very offhandedly, like he’s giving an order to a servant, rather than talking to his own son

-Gloucester leaves, Edmund sinks into the chair at the desk. He puts his head down on the desk and leaves it there for a solid second. He starts his soliloquy with his head still down. (Future Edette Editing: I still want something here to show that Edmund doesn’t get any enjoyment from this- he’s doing it out of anger, or as revenge, or to gain what should have been his, had things been slightly different, or possibly as a means of survival. Basically, he’s not doing this to have a fun time at deceiving anyone) He’s not enjoying what he’s doing- he’s not rejoicing at what is seemingly his success- he sees that it doesn’t make a difference. Gloucester would rather have no sons than only have him.

-Edgar enters. Edgar enters in a great mood. His optimism is turned up to a solid 100%.

-“How now, brother Edmund!” He speed-walks over to Edmund, who’s standing near the middle of the stage at this point. He does something brotherly- I don’t know what that would even mean, given that I am a girl with no brothers. He puts his arm around his shoulder or ruffles his hair or something. That’s the vibe I’m going for. The “haha yeah we’re siblings and we totally get along” vibe. Edmund is, however, not vibing.

(-if the second option is what we’re going with, Edmund takes a moment to fix his hair. A very short moment, but a moment none the less)

-Edgar notices that Edmund does not seem to be vibing, and that’s when he continues with his line “what serious contemplation are you in?”

- at “..go armed”, Edmund hands Edgar his own sword. This is the sword Edgar will later use to kill him.

ACT 2 SCENE 1

- On Edmund’s conversation with Curan: This is the first conversation Edmund’s having with someone without there being any uncomfortable tension between them. They talk in a casual way, and it’s clear that outside of the play they would be friends, regardless of status. Why would they be friends? Because I decided they should be.

-Edgar is doubly armed- with Edmund’s sword and with his own. He was planning on returning Edmund’s sword. When they “fight” Edgar uses Edmund’s sword and Edmund uses Edgar’s. They have different types of swords- Edmund’s- which is now Edgar’s- is slightly shorter and lighter. Edgar’s- which is now Edmund’s- is a two handed sword. These details are slightly irrelevant, but I feel like their weapon of choice (even though they’re using each other’s weapons (ie not their weapons of choice)) should match their personalities.

- Edgar just. Has NO idea what’s up with Edmund’s “hey we gotta sword fight now” thing. It should be clear to the audience that he’s ONLY going along with it because he trusts Edmund entirely.

-during the fight, Edmund slashes the family portrait with his sword, cutting a line between Edgar and Gloucester. Is this cliche? Yes. Must it happen anyway, because ✨symbolism✨? Yes.

-Edgar leaves through The Door I keep talking about

- Edmund stabs his non-dominant arm. This is relevant and important.

- “But where is he?” Gloucester hasn’t even noticed at this point that Edmund was injured in the “fight”. “Look, sir, I bleed!” Is Edmund’s attempt to get Gloucester’s attention. It’s his way of saying “I got injured for YOUR sake. THAT’S how good of a son I am!!”

- “where is the villain, Edmund?” The word “villain”, not the word “Edmund” is emphasized. While his seemingly innocent a son is standing there with his arm stabbed and bleeding, he’s more concerned with the son who supposedly plotted against him, but is currently running away now and is of no threat to him.

- (this is the point where I get really into @suits-of-woe’s Cornwall theory, because while I had never thought of it before, as soon as I read it I agreed with it completely. Please go read the theory if you haven’t already.)

- While Gloucester rarely looks at Edmund, Cornwall’s eyes go straight to Edmund as soon as he enters the room. Edmund doesn’t notice- he’s too busy trying to support his stabbed arm in a functional way without bleeding everywhere

-while Gloucester and Regan are talking, Cornwall calls a servant aside and whispers to him. The servant leaves. He asked the servant to get Edmund bandages because his arm has LITERALLY been STABBED and no one’s doing anything about it.

- Edmund’s focused on his arm until Cornwall’s line of “Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father a very child-like office”. Finally, someone appreciates him! At “It was my duty, sir”, it’s clear that there’s some sort of understanding between them. They somewhat get that they’re on the same side. There is a short pause.

- “...and received this hurt you see” Gloucester, being Gloucester, grabs Edmund’s injured arm to “show it off” to Regan and Cornwall. Edmund, master of hiding his emotions and such, winces for a millisecond but then goes back to “ah yes everything is ok and I am totally not condensed rage in human form”.

(Future Edette Editing: I am *so glad* I’m editing this because I really don’t like some of the stuff I shoved in here to try to cater this to a larger audience)

-after “..how in my strength you please”, that servant Cornwall called returns. As he says “For you, Edmund, whose virtue and obedience..” until the end of that paragraph Cornwall takes the bandage and bandages Edmund’s arm- I mean no one else is gonna do it. That, combined with the content of what Cornwall says in the paragraph, lead Edmund to be like “wait. Is this?? A father figure???” “a father figure? For ME???”

(-Hence the Cornwall theory I mentioned earlier)

- “I shall serve you, sir, truly, however else” this is the first line he’ll say in a way that it’s clear to everyone (mainly the audience) that he’s 100% sincere. He’s not trying to be deceptive. He’s not trying to trick anyone. He says it softly and truly means it.

-Edmund’s arm remains bandaged for the remainder of the play. (It’s not heavily bandaged or anything)

ACT 2 SCENE 2

- At “How now! What’s the matter?..” Edmund comes out holding Edgar’s- which is now his, I guess- sword. He’s holding it well enough, considering it’s a two handed sword and he just stabbed himself in the arm, but it’s pretty clear that he won’t be able to win a fight with it. Don’t worry, he’ll get a new sword before his final duel.

-at “no more, perchance, does mine, nor his, nor hers” “his” is referring to Gloucester, not Edmund. This isn’t because Cornwall is ignoring Edmund, it’s because that’s just the order they’re standing in. Edmund entered this scene first out of the four of them, so while Kent and Oswald are on one side of the stage, Edmund stands towards the middle, and Cornwall, Gloucester, and Regan stand at the other side.

ACT 3 SCENE 3

-Gloucester is angry in this scene. Why is he angry? Because I say so. He says all his lines in an angry and bitter way. Which may be counterproductive- having Gloucester be angry about how Lear is treated may make him more likable, which isn’t my goal. But I don’t care.

-Edmund says his paragraph at the end in a bitter and angry way too. Because ✨ parallels ✨

ACT 3 SCENE 5

-Cornwall is Gloucester’s opposite when it comes to how they react to/ treat Edmund. While Gloucester rarely looks at him and has an anti-magnetic effect, Cornwall stands near Edmund on the stage and looks at him both when he’s speaking to him and when Edmund’s replying. And not in a “good eye contact is important” sort of way, because Edmund faces away from people when he lies to them. Just for staging reasons, not because he can’t lie when facing people.

-Cornwall knows Edmund’s lying- he shows this by constantly moving so that he’s nearly always standing beside him instead of behind him (not actually directly behind him; scroll up for General Staging, where I explained this.)

-At “go with me to the duchess” Cornwall puts a hand on Edmund’s shoulder, directly paralleling Gloucester in Act 1 Scene 1. Because I really like ✨parallels✨. Except Cornwall, the same guy who said “thou shalt find a dearer father in my love”, does this in a much more- fatherly, I guess?- way than Gloucester did.

-At “if the matter of this paper be certain...” Edmund does what he does when he lies; ie tries to turn away and takes maybe half a step back. He pretty much trusts Cornwall enough to not walk halfway across the stage when he lies, but not enough for him to either lie directly to his face (or just tell the truth, I guess- but that’s because the whole point of this is to stick to the original script and use only stage directions to make Edmund more sympathetic).

-At “True or false, it has made thee earl of Gloucester...” Cornwall puts his other hand on Edmund’s other shoulder (wow I’m bad at describing things)

Here are some stock photos to help ya visualize this-

THIS is putting one hand on a shoulder. Note that the two people aren’t necessarily facing each other.

AND THIS is putting both hands on shoulders-

(So imagine that, but minus how aggressive that looks, and minus one of the people’s arms. Also a whole lot less tense/intense.) (Anyway. Moving on.)

-at “thou shalt find a dearer father in my love” (...cue me googling “how on earth do fathers show affection?” Because I really want to get the point across that edmund’s like “a father figure??? For me???” And Cornwall’s like “👍. A father figure. For you.”) HECK I GOT IT. Hear me out. Cornwall pats Edmund on the head (in like, a fatherly way), and with the other hand hold The Letter (TM) (even though this is a different “the letter”) and looks it over. This is the first time he looked away from Edmund since this conversation started. In a way that portrays “yes you are my son now I have claimed you as my own” but also “you are not necessarily my top priority- I can give you the fatherly love and affection you desire, but it’s not exactly unconditional. You did well today, good job! You keep up the good work and I’ll keep up my end of this; ie providing you with the fatherly love you never received in your childhood” ( @suits-of-woe I am trying here. I am struggling. I’m so sorry for ruining the Cornwall Theory like this- I’m trying my best to convey it via my amazing stage directions, but I can see pretty clearly that I’m epically failing at this).

ACT 3 SCENE 7

-Cornwall walks onto the stage first, followed by Goneril and Regan close behind them, and Edmund last.

-at “Farewell, sweet lord, and sister”, Cornwall nods at Goneril in response (this has nothing to do with Edmund, I always just thought it was weird that he doesn’t respond)

- at “Edmund,.. farewell” Goneril had already left the stage, Regan is standing next to Cornwall at the opposite end of the stage. Edmund’s about to exit when Cornwall says “Edmund”. He turns around- expecting Cornwall to say something more to him or something. There’s a pause. Cornwall doesn’t have anything else to say. He just says “Farewell”. Edmund nods and leaves the stage.

ACT 4 SCENE 2

-oh heck I gotta stage an Edmund and Goneril scene now

-I don’t wanna?

(Future Edette Editing: and so I won’t!! I don’t normally describe things as cringe, but that’s what this was. I only put this in because I felt obligated to talk about every scene. Oh well- I guess 4.2 isn’t getting stage directions from me)

ACT 5 SCENE 1

-Edmund enters first, dressed in some sort of military commander uniform. Because. Like. There’s a war going on. His sleeves are rolled up/cuffed up to elbow length, and his arm is still bandaged from when he stabbed it.

-there is a tent with a desk in it on stage. Hold on let me illustrate this:

(Future Edette Editing: yeah there was an illustration here, but I’m changing some stuff so I deleted it)

It’s all on wheels so it can be moved around the stage- whichever piece is the most important to the scene will be more up front.

-Edmund stands at the desk which has some military plans of some sort on it.

-Edmund is armed with a brand new sword (Cornwall’s sword? Maybe? Who knows?) (UPDATE: yeah hi future Edette here- I decided that it is, in fact, Cornwall’s sword)

-With Regan, Edmund also doesn’t get that she’s flirting with him right away.

-and then. Then he’s like “OH WAIT” “WAIT SHE’S FLIRTING” “WAIT SO I GOT 2 GIRLFRIENDS??” “OH WOW THIS IS FANTASTIC” “THIS IS LITERALLY THE BEST WEEK OF MY LIFE” (lol Edmund it’s also the last week of your life)

-he 100% realized at “No, by mine honor, madam”.

-Albany stands at the opposite end of the desk. He never moves any closer or further from Edmund than the opposite end of the desk. Goneril would have moved closer but Albany is blocking her.

-as Edmund leaves he puts on his military commander hat of some sort and adjusts it while looking in a mirror or some other reflective surface. Just to show he’s still the same Edmund from act one- he still cares about his appearance to an extent.

-at “the enemy’s in view, draw up your powers.” Edmund half-jogs in back onto the stage- showing that he wasn’t just commanding the soldiers ( if he was he’d have been walking at a moderate pace), but he was actually with them, to some extent, fighting along side them on the battlefield.

- (Future Edette Editing here: yeah so I deleted the notes on the soliloquy here. I didn’t like them. Oh well.)

ACT 5 SCENE 3

-wow it’s hard to make this Edmund guy redeemable/sympathetic when he kills off Cordelia. Like. He really didn’t need to do that

-why, Edmund. Why must you do this.

-you’re making my job here (ie to make you sympathetic) very difficult.

-ANYWAY. I’ll do what I can for this scene

-The captain here? Yeah, he’s Curan from earlier. Edmund made him a captain. There you have it, Edmund’s one semi-redeeming factor for this scene

-I really don’t know how to have this part play out in a way that makes the audience sympathize with Edmund. This is the best I can do.

(Future Edette Editing: yeah so honestly killing off Cordelia and Lear was a logical and strategic move to make, tbh. ((Not morally fantastic. But logical.)) Because yeah Albany would have left them alive and then what? They’d get the throne? Let’s be real here- the country’s already collapsing- the last thing you need is Lear or Cordelia on the throne. Even *Albany* would do a better job than either of them. And he wouldn’t do anything at all. So. Yeah.)

-I’m so burnt out right now I know this isn’t the quality content you came here for but I don’t know how to get this back on track either. ANYWAY I am dedicated to finishing this. Let’s go! There isn’t much left to the play! I’m almost done!

-at “Sir, by your patience, I hold you but a subject of war..” Albany speaks in a very harsh tone- talking to Edmund as if he were a child who interrupted class for like the eighth time that day. Albany’s just salty that his wife likes Edmund more than him.

(Future Edette Editing: Sorry if this doesn’t flow well here anymore- I deleted a bunch of stuff)

-as the argument continues, Regan and Goneril get more frantic because they see they’re not winning.

-Albany gets louder and angrier because he’s frustrated that his wife likes Edmund more than she likes him. Also because at this point, he pretty much hates Edmund.

-Edmund, however, is the quietest out of all the yelling people around him. He doesn’t like arguments- or rather, he doesn’t like when he’s the one the argument is directed towards. He tries to stay calm and talk in a level voice. As everyone around him argues he tries to step in between them and silently play the role of peacekeeper.

-at “Nor in thine, my lord” Edmund is still calm./ not yelling at him. He says it like he’s stating a fact, not contributing to the argument.

-at “half blooded fellow, yes!” My book’s translation to modern english say “Bastard, it is!”. And like. No one’s called him a bastard for like 4 whole acts now. All I have to say to this is Big Oof. (Is that a dead meme? Yeah. Probably.) Edmund is surprised at first- then glares at him- in a way saying “oh? You want to go there? We can go there. I’ll gladly fight you with my own two hands.”

-at “I will mainly my truth and honor” he draws his sword, which I have now decided definitely is Cornwall’s sword. Why does he have it? Idk, Regan probably gave it to him.

-As Edgar and Albany talk before the fight, Edmund swings his sword at nothing in particular- the way you’d see people warming up for a fight. This sword is not a two handed sword, so he’ll be fine even with his stabbed arm. As I mentioned earlier, he stabbed his non-dominant arm, so his sword arm is fine.

-at “In wisdom I should ask thy name..” he does something to indicate that he might know it’s Edgar. What does he do? I don’t know. Something with a whole lot of ✨symbolism✨. I’ll figure it out before posting this. Or maybe I won’t. (Future Edette Editing: Yeah so I figured out what to do here slightly after, and I have a whole post about it- but to sum it up, he looks at the *mysterious masked man*’s sword (which as you may recall was his). And he’s like “oh. Oh. Ok then.”)

-they fight. Edgar (as I previously mentioned) is using the sword Edmund gave him at the beginning. Edmund is using Cornwall’s sword.

-As they fight it’s clear that they’re pretty evenly matched. (I mean. Then again, Edmund was just helping in battle like two seconds ago while Edgar was just chilling with his half dead/dead father. So. Edmund’s trying to win a duel after just doing a bunch of exhausting physical activity while Edgar is not.) (Edmund would win if they were fighting when they were both at their strongest)

-(I’ve mentioned this in a previous post, but I’m gonna restate it so that you don’t mess up on how you imagine the fight going down. There’s only one valid interpretation of it, and it’s my own interpretation. That has literally never been used in any production. Yup. That’s the only valid way to imagine the duel.) ANYWAY. As they fight, Edmund seems to be about to win, when Edgar hits his already stabbed arm. Edmund loses focus in that one moment, because. Like. That’s painful. (I was gonna say he drops his sword, but does he? Does that work? I don’t know. If he does or doesn’t, it’s valid either way). Then Edgar stabs him. With is kinda even more painful, and somewhat fatal.

-After he’s stabbed, some random soldier brings him to the tent toward the back of the stage, where he stays until he’s brought off stage

Here’s an illustration to help you picture this:

-Edmund is more focused on his wound than the conversation. His tone and body language for the rest of the play conveys “You won! I lost! I’m sorry! Can I get medical attention now??”

-Headcanon that Edmund would have lived if he would have gotten some medical attention sooner

-at “yet Edmund was beloved” he does a little sarcastic laugh (not like a laugh laugh, more like a cynical nose exhale?)- he sees the irony of how all three of them trying to take their rightful power, and all dying at the same time as a result of it.

-while Edmund tells them they still have time to save Cordelia, he sinks down/lies down. He already accepted the fact that he’s going to die.

-while he’s delivering this news, Edgar and Albany look at him in shock and then at each other. From there to the rest of the scene, no one looks at Edmund again. Not because they don’t like him, just because they find him irrelevant now (which Albany outright states a few lines from here).

-When Albany tells the soldiers to take Edmund off the satge/away from there, he doesn’t look at Edmund, he just vaguely motions to him.

-At “Edmund is dead, my lord” “That’s but a trifle here”, Albany barely turns to look at the messenger. He doesn’t care that Edmund is dead. No one does. The wheel has come full circle. No one cared about Edmund at the start, and he’s just as irrelevant now. Edmund wanted to be something to people. He would have wanted them to react to his death. If they had celebrated it, he would have been happier than if they ignored it. He doesn’t even get that much.

-The Curtains Close. The Play Is Over-

#king lear #shakespeare #Do you know how many HOURS went into this??#...because I don’t #I genuinely have no idea how many hours went into this #I was studying for midterms at the same time as writing this #so the hours spent on this and this alone were probably around 5?#5 hours sounds legit

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kutemouse · 4 years

Text

Caught (Prologue)

Disclaimers: All “Save Me” webtoon and BTS MV/highlight reel/film references and plots belong to BTS and BigHit. Not sure who edited it or made it, but the “I’m Fine/Save Me” ambigram pic I used came from here. All pictures of Kim Taehyung belong to BTS and BigHit, I just edited them for my header. The picture of BTS came from Vogue Japan, I just edited it for my header. I got the Kim Taehyung Wings Film Gif from DannyBriz on Wattpad.

A Note from Kutemouse: Awwww, thank you for reading my stuff, @chocolatewolfuniversitytrash!

So, this sweet little mini series is inspired by several things… The movie 365 DNI, the Save Me webtoon, the BTS MV universe, and ideas I’ve come up with waaaaaay too late at night 😂 Honestly, I’m OBSESSED with the whole MV/highlight reel/wings films arc that started with The Most Beautiful Moment in Life Pt. 1, and I’ve ALWAYS wanted to write a story inspired by it. So, kutie pie @chocolatewolfuniversitytrash, thank you for allowing this dream to come to light.

About the non-con request, I was all like, “EEEERRRRRRMMMMMMMM idk,” because I’ve never written non-con and therefore don’t… know… if I’m comfortable with it…? I will attempt to do my best. Either way, I hope you like what has come out of my brain 😅

Also, thank you to @btssmutheaven for revealing my drafts (NOT REALLY, ILY) to @taemaknae for reading my shit and loving it, and to @kpopyandere for being the best unnie account and helping me realize I can write all the yandere ideas I want.

Age Recommendation: 21+ (this is NOT one for youngsters, kuties, and is MOST DEFINITELY NSFW)

Genre: Mafia!AU w/ BTS, Jailbird!AU w/ Taehyung, Yandere!BTS

Warnings: ALL THE WARNINGS. Just kidding, uh… Swears. There are minors in this section but they do NOT do anything sexual. I ain’t about that kinda life, y’all. F*ckboy Taehyung. Fluffy friendship. Angsty jealousy. Mentions of drug use and alcohol consumption (NOT by minors tho). Yandere themes including unhealthy obsession and possessiveness. Making out. No smut in this part, but it’s heavy af.

🚨TRIGGER WARNING. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE ISSUES WITH THE FOLLOWING.🚨

Mentions of abusive relationships, mentions of a parent abusing their child, mentions of sexual abuse, mentions of schoolyard bullying, mentions of a violent murder.

These are not fleshed out or detailed scenarios. When I say “mention,” I mean briefly discussed after it happened, not during, and definitely not in any detail whatsoever. You DO NOT have to read my work. You decide what you are comfortable with. All I want is for you kuties to be happy.

Word Count: 6.1k (WTF is this even allowed?!)

Summary: Kim Taehyung was the absolute love of your life… until he became a murderer. With him serving a life sentence in prison, you were finally free to live out the rest of your life however you wanted. Just when you thought you were at the top of your game, ready to take on the world, Taehyung reappears like a monster not even your worst nightmares could dream up. He gives you a year to fall in love with him, but now the question is, can monsters even be loved?

Master List

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Caught (Taehyung Series, Yandere, Smut, Angst) Prologue

I remember the first time I saw Kim Taehyung. We were both fifteen, just starting out in high school. Back then, I remember the way he lazily leaned against a locker with his arms crossed, seemingly waiting for someone. His hair was bleached a ridiculous bright blonde on the top and left brunette everywhere else. He had on dramatic, black eyeliner that served to accentuate his inky eyes, and he wore a studded leather jacket with his shirt and tie rather than the traditional uniform. Intrigued, I opened my locker and picked out my books for my next class, watching him out of the corner of my eye.

I saw him zero in on his target and take brisk, wide strides towards her as she twirled the combo to her locker. She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes as he caged her in by leaning down to whisper something in her ear. Suddenly, the hallway was filled with flirtatious giggles and I turned away, rolling my eyes. So he was one of those assholes.

I watched him do this with every single girl in our class. I swear, he had his routine down to a science. Chat her up, openly flirt, flirt some more until she caved in to whatever he desired, then drop her like a hot frying pan. It took a couple months for his interest to finally land on me.

“Hey.”

I didn’t bother to look up as I twirled the combination to my locker and popped it open.

“Hey,” he said louder.

I flicked a glance his way. “Do you need something?”

His eyes narrowed. “Do I look like I need anything?”

I huffed out a sigh. “What do you want, Kim Taehyung?”

He let out a snort, leaning against the locker next to mine the same way he’d done a thousand times with a thousand other girls. “So you know my name, but I don’t know yours. You’re new, right?”

“I transferred in at the beginning of the year,” I said impatiently. “And we’re in the same class, so you should know who I am.”

Taehyung’s lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Really? No, that can’t be right. I definitely would’ve remembered you.”

I rolled my eyes and slammed my locker shut, walking quickly away. Taehyung jogged to keep up. “Just tell me your name,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“C’mon, I’m just trying to make friends.”

I whirled around, stopping both of us in our tracks. “Friends? Is that what you’ve been doing with every other girl here? Just making friends?”

Taehyung smirked once more and took a step towards me. I don’t know why, but I took a step back. I should’ve held my ground, should’ve told him to fuck off right then and there. Instead, I let him back me up against the wall and entrap me within his darkened gaze, the same way he would for the next three years of our lives.

He leaned down to whisper in my ear, his breath tickling the skin of my cheek. “We can be more than friends… but first, you have to tell me your name.”

I shoved him off me and practically sprinted down the hall, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. My peers and classmates who saw the exchange teased me for weeks afterward, no matter how much I kept my head down and avoided Taehyung like my life depended on it. It wasn’t until I heard him telling off some of the more tenacious gossipers I decided to give him another chance.

I tapped him on his shoulder as he stood in front of his locker. His eyes widened when he turned to see me standing there. “I’m L/n Y/n,” I said meekly. “And I wanted to thank you for what you said to those people.”

“You heard that?” he asked, the skin of his neck flushing pink.

I nodded.

“You’re welcome,” he said, tossing me a boxy grin.

That day, a seed was planted that eventually grew into a steady, beautiful friendship. A year later, I had come out of my shell quite a bit thanks to Taehyung, and I had a solid group of mates that I adored and relied on. Tae was my best friend, and I was his. Of course, we still got teased quite a bit about being a couple, but I figured we were both long past that.

Taehyung matured alongside our friendship. He stopped wearing thick eyeliner and sporting ridiculous hair colors, instead opting for a softer, more natural look with caramel brown locks and the unblemished glow of his slightly-tan skin. Gone were his dramatic, attention-seeking ways. His voice also deepened, dropping almost an entire octave. Yet despite all of his changes, he still stayed an absolute fuck-boy, shagging a new girl every other week. I came to realize it was all part of his personality, though, and I loved him no matter what.

The summer before our senior year was when I realized that love ran way deeper than friendship. We were at my best girlfriend Chaeyoung’s house when Taehyung stumbled in with yet another girl, his hair freshly dyed a bright cerulean blue. “Hey everyone!” he called out, slinging his arm around the girl’s shoulders. My smile faded as I looked over and noticed she was beyond gorgeous, with waist-length black locks that seemed to flow down the perfect curve of her back. I shuddered as a green monster reared its ugly head deep within me.

Taehyung was with that girl for a few months, which by his standards, was practically a lifetime. The entire time they were together, I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff about to swan-dive into devastating heartbreak. Each time I saw him kiss her, each time I saw him smile at her, each time I saw him lean over and whisper something in her ear, a piece of my soul shriveled up and died. I did my best to put my feelings aside, knowing I already had my chance and he would probably never look at me that way again. Even after they broke up, I kept my love for him tamped down and tucked away deep in the recesses of my heart, scared of ruining our friendship.

His break-up only served to draw us closer together, and slowly, without me realizing it, our friendship began to bloom into something more. Taehyung and I started to tell each other everything, including the messed-up secrets our home lives made us keep. One day, we were sitting in an empty classroom after school. I was trying to study, but kept getting distracted by Tae staring longingly out the window. “What’re you looking at?” I finally asked, putting my pencil down.

“Nothing,” he said simply. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About when we’ll finally get out of here.”

I smiled, my heart thumping a little faster. “We?”

He turned and tossed me his signature boxy grin. “Yeah. We. We’ll make it out of here someday, Y/n. I’ll get away from my bastard of a dad, you’ll get away from your selfish mother, and we’ll have a house in the country with big, open fields and plenty of space to finally fucking breathe.”

I smiled and stored those words away, using them to comfort myself whenever my mother and her asshole of a boyfriend wouldn’t stop yelling at each other, or worse, when they’d pass out on the couch, too drunk or high to stay coherent.

One night around three in the morning, my phone began to buzz and didn’t stop until I finally popped an eye open, fumbled around for it in the dark, and pressed it to my ear. “Hello?” I mumbled.

“H-Hey.”

I sat up. “Taehyung?”

“Y/n, I n-need your help,” he said shakily. It sounded like he was… crying?

I immediately got out of bed and pulled some jeans on. “Tae, it’s okay,” I said soothingly, trying to hide the panic I was feeling. I knew Taehyung’s home life was extremely hard. In fact, most of our home lives were terrible. The only two in our friend group who even came close to “privileged” were Chaeyoung and Jin, and that was because their parents had more money, not less problems.

I myself had plenty of issues. The reason my mother and I moved here when I was fifteen was to escape her abusive boyfriend, and even then, we still lived in constant fear of him finding us again. I guess that fear drove her into the arms of the first strong-looking man who looked twice at her, because her new boyfriend, Manseok, seemed to fit the same abusive pattern. At least he didn’t hit her when he was sober.

I wasn’t exactly sure how terrible Taehyung’s life was until the night he called me. At his request, I stole a few bills from my mom’s purse as well as her ID and put us up in a cheap motel room for the night. Jumping up when I finally heard his knock, I quickly pulled the door open to reveal Taehyung, his blue hair stringy from the rain outside. He was panting like he ran all the way there. I covered my mouth with my hands as the dim lighting revealed his left eye swollen shut, covered in nasty shades of scarlet and purple. His lip was split and bleeding, and his right cheek had another bruise and cut creeping down to his jawbone. The worst part, though, were the red finger-shaped marks that covered his neck.

“Y/n,” he croaked out. I held open my arms and he fell into them, not leaving their safety until well into the morning. I iced his black eye and bruises as much as I could, and bandaged the cuts that covered his face. Taehyung’s face was pressed into my chest, his breathing deep and even as he finally slept.

I decided then and there I’d never let him go.

Thankfully, Taehyung felt the same way. Within a week, he brushed off every other girl he was chatting up and focused all of his attention on me. We spent hours with each other after school, either in person or on the phone, and it became a common occurrence for him to intertwine his fingers with mine or peck me sweetly on the cheek.

I quickly grew dissatisfied, sick of the friendship barrier preventing us from taking things further. We spent an entire day together one weekend, talking, laughing, walking the streets, and trying different foods from vendor carts. As the sun started to go down, Taehyung wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing his chest into my back. He was teasing me, I forget about what, and he leaned down to kiss my cheek when I turned at the last second and let him peck my lips instead. I laughed as his dark eyes grew wide with shock.

That was all it took, though. One kiss, and he was mine. Or rather, I was his. Afterwards, he pulled me into a deserted alleyway and we kissed until the sun completely disappeared. As the stars appeared in the sky above, Taehyung asked me to be his girlfriend, murmuring in my ear about how much he loved me and how he had never stopped loving me, even after I turned him down. With my heart practically bursting, I readily agreed.

Back then, Taehyung had a knack for getting in trouble, and me being his new girlfriend did nothing to hinder that side of him. He was definitely the “bad boy” of our school, constantly rebelling against the system by swapping his uniform for street clothes and ditching classes. His favorite form of rebellion, however, was street graffiti. He loved spray-painting words and drawings all over the walls of our neighborhood alongside his best friend, Namjoon. Tae was nearly caught by the cops a couple of times, but thanks to his quick instincts, he managed to give them the slip.

Still, a boy with bright, blue hair was bound to stand out, so after a couple nights of close calls, Taehyung finally dyed his hair back to that soft, caramel brown that I loved running my fingers through. We sat together at a bus stop, watching cars and people go by with fingers intertwined, when Tae stood and pulled a paint can out of his jacket pocket.

“Again?” I asked. Despite my teasing tone, I smiled up at him.

Taehyung tucked his bottom lip between his teeth with a grin as he sprayed something onto the panel beside us. “Look,” he said once he was finished, tilting his head to admire his work.

I stood up to see the words “I’m fine” sprayed in green. The font was the most interesting part, though, too curly in comparison to Taehyung’s usual writing. “Now look at it from upside-down,” Tae said.

I threw him a skeptical look before obediently curving my neck and scoping out the piece of art as best I could. “Save me,” I read out loud.

Taehyung nodded. “It’s for us,” he murmured.

I looked up at him, emotions surging through me like a waterfall surging down a cliff. “It’s beautiful,” I said, my voice cracking.

Taehyung looked at me, concern filling his features. “Baby girl, what’s wrong?”

“I-I have s-something to tell you,” I stammered.

With many tears and a shaky voice, I began to explain to Taehyung the events that had transpired only a few nights before. How my mom’s boyfriend had quietly snuck into my room while she remained passed out on the couch. How he had told me to be quiet as his hand started stroking my arm. How he had held his hand over my mouth and yelped when I bit him. How I had screamed so loud our neighbors called the cops. How he was carted away by the police with my mother shrieking the entire time about how I was a brat and a dramatic liar.

Taehyung’s gaze grew darker with each word. “That bastard,” he spat, clenching his fists. “I will end that motherfucker.”

“Taehyung, stop,” I sighed. “It’s over. For now, at least. I’ll stay at Chaeyoung’s until graduation.”

“What do you mean? He’s not going to jail?”

I hung my head. “My mom left to pay his bail an hour ago.”

Taehyung slammed his fist into the same panel he just graffitied. “So that jerk is going to walk free?!”

I stood up and ran my hands soothingly over his shoulders. “For now. I’m going to press charges, but in the end, it’s my word against his. Who knows how the system will treat him.”

Taehyung let out a feral growl, turning away from me. “I’m sick of this shit,” he snapped. “My dad, your mom’s boyfriend… neither of them should be walking free after everything they’ve done.”

Not knowing what else to do, I hugged him tightly from behind. “Just another few months,” I said quietly. “And then we’ll be out of here. A house in the country, just like you said.”

“That’s not good enough,” Tae snapped, turning back towards me. My mouth parted in surprise as I looked into his eyes and saw something there I’d never seen before. It was like a slow-burning flame, one that hadn’t yet risen into a raging wildfire, but threatened to if it wasn’t quickly put out.

Taehyung suddenly grabbed my hand and tugged me down the street. “I’m dropping you off at Chae’s,” he said. “And then I want you to stay there for the next twenty-four hours. I don’t want you going out for any reason, you understand me?”

“Taehyung, what are you saying? You’re scaring me.”

He stopped walking, turning so we were facing each other once more. The flame I saw earlier began blazing, turning rapidly into something uncontrollable and destructive I didn’t know how to stop. “This ends tonight,” he growled.

True to his word, he dropped me off at Chaeyoung’s, not leaving until he made me promise I wouldn’t go out until he said so. After a week, with Tae’s permission, I went home to get some clothes and personal items only to find my mom sitting on the couch, strung out of her mind. “Is he here?” I asked tentatively.

She raised her red-rimmed eyes to meet mine. “Who?”

“Manseok. Your jerk of a boyfriend.”

My mom shrugged and scoffed. “Haven’t seen that bastard for a couple days now,” she said, her words slurring together. “He upped and left us. Stole some money from me to do it, too.”

The feeling of relief that I felt was short-lived once I remembered that asshole would probably be back for more, just like the others. I quickly gathered my things and left, stopping only to make sure my mom had enough food for the next few days.

Ever since that night, Taehyung withdrew into himself. He still held my hand and kissed me, but it was distant, emotionless, like he didn’t know how to feel his feelings for me anymore. He weirdly became somewhat possessive of me, keeping me practically glued to his side whenever he was with me, and constantly texting me when we weren’t together. Whenever other boys looked my way, Taehyung shot them down with harsh words and incessant bullying our friends joined in on. I insisted they stop that kind of behavior, and for a while, I thought Tae and his friends complied. It wasn’t until much later in life when I realized they never truly stopped. They just got better at hiding it.

One night, I was at Namjoon’s place waiting for Tae when Joon’s phone rang. “Taehyung?” he said, turning away from me when I looked up. “Hey, calm down. You did what?!”

He stood up quickly. I motioned for him to put it on speaker, but he waved me off. “Okay, stop. I’m coming over right now. Just stay put, dammit.”

Joon grabbed his jacket and rushed towards the door. “Wait!” I cried. “What happened?!”

“Nothing that concerns you,” he snapped. “Stay here. I’ll bring Taehyung to you, alright?”

Neither of them came back. Before the sun even thought of rising, I determinedly ran all the way to Taehyung’s apartment, desperate to see him and make sure he was alright. As my sneakers pounded against the pavement and my breath started coming out in ragged gasps, I suddenly felt a hand grasp my forearm and yank me into a side alley.

“What are you doing here?” a voice growled as I yelped in surprise. I looked up to see Jungkook standing there, glaring at me.

“I want to see Taehyung,” I retorted, ripping my arm from his grasp.

He crossed his arms. “Not gonna happen.”

“Like hell it’s not!” I snapped. “Where is he?”

Jungkook grabbed the front of my jacket, preventing me from pushing past him. “Go home, Y/n.”

“Absolutely the fuck not!”

Sick of my shit, Jungkook picked me up, threw me over his broad shoulder, and carried me out of the alleyway. I kicked and screamed the entire way. He set me down once we were on the main street. “Taehyung will call you when he can,” he said firmly. “I won’t say it again, Y/n. Go home.”

“No!” Tears welled up, and I furiously swiped them away. “I’m his girlfriend! Tell me where he is right now or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Jungkook snapped. “Y/n, you don’t even know where he is. Fucking leave, or I’ll carry you all the way back to Chae’s myself.”

It didn’t take much longer for me to realize Jungkook wouldn’t relent. Eventually, I went back to Chaeyoung’s and spent the day staring at the wall beside my bed. What did Taehyung do? What were his friends protecting him from? When had things gotten so fucked up?

My questions were never answered. After a full week of silence, complete with him missing school, Taehyung showed up at Chae’s place asking for me. “She doesn’t want to see you,” Chae snapped, closing the door as I meandered into the entry hall.

Taehyung stopped her by slamming his palm against the wood. “Please, Chae,” he begged.

Recognizing his deep tenor, I walked up and put my hand on my bestie’s shoulder. “I’ve got this, Chae,” I murmured. She left with a huff.

Taehyung looked terrible. Dark circles ran under both eyes like he’d spent multiple nights without sleep, his hair was unkempt, and his skin was much too pale. Without another word, I immediately took him inside and dragged him up to my room. He took a shower in my en suite bathroom while I washed his clothes. After he dressed, we sat on my bed, still not speaking. “What happened?” I finally asked.

He tossed me a weak smile. “Life happened.”

I shook my head in disgust. “You leave me for an entire week with no explanation, and that’s all you have to say?”

“Baby girl, please,” Taehyung said, clasping my hands in between his large, rough ones. “I’m sorry I left you alone. I asked the guys to keep an eye on you, and they said you’ve been doing fine.”

“Fine is an overstatement,” I snorted, tearing my hands from his grasp.

He didn’t relent, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his broad chest. “Let go,” I ordered, trying and failing to push him away.

“No,” he said simply, tightening his hold. “I love you, Y/n. Everything that happened this past week happened for us. For our dream.”

I managed to pull back enough to look up into his eyes. The spark of mischief that normally resided there was gone, replaced by a dull sombreness that made me ache inside. Whatever had happened that week completely changed Taehyung for good. He was no longer quick to smile or joke, and I began to yearn for the blue-haired boy of the past. I couldn’t tell him that, though. Despite everything, I still loved him.

A month passed, and as our graduation approached, Taehyung talked more and more about moving out to the country. I responded enthusiastically outwardly, but on the inside, I didn’t know if moving out was such a good idea. It wasn’t just the way he had changed. It was having issues with my mom as well. Since Manseok never came back around, her behavior grew more erratic each day. I moved back in to take care of her, and she depended heavily on me. I was afraid if I left, she would fall off the deep end again and never be able to make it back to the surface.

The last day I saw Taehyung dawned bright and filled with hope. “I’m feeling good today,” he announced, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we walked to class.

I smiled up at him, glee spreading through my limbs when I saw a trace of that mischievous spark back in his eyes. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He tossed me a grin. “I haven’t been able to go out and tag anything lately… but I kind of want to tonight. You in?”

“Of course.”

As night approached, we walked hand-in-hand down the street until Taehyung led us back to that bus stop where he painted the “I’m fine/Save me” ambigram. I sat on the bench and watched as he began to create something new. I don’t think he had a set plan. The painting started off in meaningless loops, the jet-black color standing out in stark contrast to the white behind it.

Suddenly, bright lights filled our vision flashing a blinding blue and red. “Freeze!” a loud voice yelled.

I remember Taehyung’s wide, dark eyes finding mine, filled with panic. I remember the rough skin of his palm sliding into mine and yanking me upright. I remember how we sprinted down the street, the fear of being caught pumping adrenaline through us. How he ran faster than me, tugging me along to keep up.

Taehyung looked back and pulled me into an alleyway to try and lose them. We turned a corner and met a dead end. With our backs pressed against the wall, I looked at Tae. “Dammit,” he panted, the corners of his mouth turning upwards despite our situation.

I began to run out the way we came, intending on dragging Taehyung with me, but he yanked me back, slamming me against the wall that entrapped us. He kissed me, feverishly pressing his tongue inside my mouth before I could stop him. He yanked my wrists upwards, pinning them almost painfully against the brick above us as his mouth continued exploring mine and his hands roamed up and down my body.

He pulled back, allowing me to finally suck in some oxygen, and even as I coughed, he continued pressing kisses from my cheek to my jaw to my neck. Tae finally stopped as loud voices and beams of flashlights got closer. “I love you, baby girl,” he murmured. “Don’t forget that.”

“Tae, what—?”

He stepped out from behind the corner, raising his hands in the air. I ducked down into the shadows the alley provided, scooting backwards and pressing my hands over my mouth.

“Get over here, punk,” a gruff voice commanded. I heard the grinding click of handcuffs closing over wrists as another voice began to read Tae his rights.

I scrambled to my feet, realizing too late what was happening. No, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t take the fall for both of us. Not like this. Still, even as I moved to step out into the light and reveal myself, something stopped me. I don’t remember exactly what it was. Possibly the thought of my mother, my friends, how close I was to graduation. Like I said, I don’t remember. All I remember was the panic I felt when I realized the love of my life had just been arrested.

I showed up late to class the next day, not wanting to answer questions from my friends about what had happened and why I looked like absolute shit. I realized my efforts weren’t needed when two detectives pulled me out of class and escorted me to the police station, causing my classmates to start buzzing with gossip like the annoying wasps they were.

“So… L/n Y/n,” the cop, Detective Kwak, said. I looked up at her, nervously twisting my hands in my lap. “You are dating Kim Taehyung, correct?”

I nodded slowly. She had brought me here for “routine questioning,” yet I began to suspect more when they put me in an interrogation room. “For how long?” the detective asked.

“About a year and a half,” I muttered.

“So your relationship was serious?”

“You could say that.”

“How serious?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how serious were you? Did you have plans for after graduation?”

“I guess. We were going to move in together.”

“Here in the city?”

“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “Somewhere far away.”

“Because of your troubles at home?”

It was then I got defensive. “What do you know about that?” I snapped.

Detective Kwak stared me down, an amused smile playing around the corners of her lips. “I know enough. I was promoted to detective only a month or so ago. Back in my street days, I was one of the cops called to your house.”

My mouth parted in surprise at her words.

“I remember that night pretty clearly,” she continued. “Your mom’s boyfriend attacked you, right?”

I swallowed hard and sank down in my seat, rubbing my arms with my palms in an effort to keep myself contained. “And she did nothing to defend you, correct?” the detective prodded.

“Stop,” I whispered.

“What about Taehyung? Did he do anything to defend you?”

“What the fuck is this about?” I burst out. “I thought you brought me here because… because…”

“Because of the graffiti?” she asked pointedly.

I nodded.

Detective Kwak leaned forward over the table. “Look, Y/n, I don’t give a damn about the fact you were his tagging partner in crime or whatever. This is much bigger than that.”

“What do you mean?”

She sat back and stared at me, her eyes like cold, dark tunnels. “Kim Taehyung has been charged with murder. His prints match a partial we lifted off of a crime scene.”

My mouth dropped open. “W-What?”

“That’s right,” she said. “We only identified the body yesterday. Does the name Lee Manseok mean anything to you?”

I froze as the syllables of my mother’s boyfriend’s name rolled off the detective’s tongue. She nodded at my reaction. “I thought it would. He was found in an abandoned warehouse about a week after he was killed. He’d been beaten to death.”

My blood ran cold, causing goosebumps to raise on the flesh of my arms. I shook my head fiercely. “No, that can’t be right,” I said. “The guy was a dick, anyone could’ve done that to him.”

“That’s what we thought at first. We first suspected his wife.”

“He… He has a wife?”

“And two kids,” the detective scoffed. “Your mom picked a real winner. But then we finally got Taehyung in custody thanks to your shenanigans last night and what do you know? His prints match the one we found at the crime scene.”

“You’ve got it wrong,” I said firmly. “Taehyung wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t he?” she asked, folding her arms over the table. “Sounds like he really loved you and would do anything to protect you.”

“No, there has to be a mistake. Even if Taehyung did kill him, it had to be out of self-defense or something.”

“Maybe so. But if you knock a guy out and then continue beating him until he dies, is it really self-defense?”

“It is if that guy could come back and hurt someone you love for revenge,” I retorted.

The detective’s face remained expressionless. “Unfortunately, the law says differently.”

“The law can go to hell for all I care.”

She chuckled. “Whatever you say, kid. Look, the crime scene revealed that more than one person beat the literal life out of Manseok. If Taehyung did this, he didn’t do it alone. Do you happen to know who else would have helped him commit murder?”

I stayed silent as I thought for a moment. Any of our friends could’ve helped him, with maybe the exception of Chaeyoung. I thought of Jin, Hoseok, Jungkook, Jimin, Yoongi and Joon. I thought of the way they moved around school like a unified group, making fun of anyone who wasn’t them and bullying people who got in their way, especially any other guy who dared look my way. Still, they wouldn’t have helped Tae commit flat-out murder, would they?

“Anyone at all?”

The detective’s voice brought me out of my thoughts. I shook my head. “No. No one.”

She sighed. “There’s something else. We’ve been trying to get ahold of Taehyung’s father, but he seems to be missing.”

“Missing?”

“Yes. He hasn’t shown up at his job at all in the past month and a half. His credit cards haven’t been used, either.”

“So?” I snapped. “The guy was an alcoholic, he could be holed up somewhere drinking himself to death.”

“Maybe so, but my guess is we’re going to find him in some abandoned building or maybe at the bottom of the ocean one day. Your boy, Taehyung? I’ll bet he’s the one who put him there.”

I slammed my palms on the table. “LIES!” I yelled. “He wouldn’t do that!”

“Wouldn’t he?!” Detective Kwak shouted, rising to her feet. “Tell me something right now, Y/n. Have you noticed him acting differently? Have you noticed any changes in his behavior?”

I immediately looked down at the ground. “No,” I muttered.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said, NO!”

“Enough with the lies!”

“I’m not lying! You are!”

The detective opened her mouth to retort, then thought better of it and sat down instead. “The evidence doesn’t lie, Y/n,” she said.

“Look,” I said. “If you want someone to put in jail, put me in jail. Taehyung’s gone through enough in his life. Please don’t put him through this.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Tears welled up in my eyes and I put my hands over my face and began to sob. Detective Kwak stood up and came around to my side of the table before placing a hand on my shoulder. Once my sobs began to cease, she offered me a tissue. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. “Thanks,” I muttered.

“Listen,” she said gently. “I’ve made arrangements for your aunt to come pick you up.”

I looked up at the detective in surprise. “My aunt?”

“Yes. Your mom’s sister. She’s filed to gain custody of you, and in light of recent events, a judge granted it to her.”

“Wait, my mom’s sister? I thought she lived in America.”

Detective Kwak’s mouth visibly tightened. “No, actually, she lives in Busan. Seems your mom kept that from you as well. Your aunt’s been trying to get in contact with you, Y/n. She says she sent letters.”

I stared at the wall across from me. Every limb, every nerve ending, every cell in my body was starting to go numb. It was all too much. My boyfriend was a murderer, my mom’s ex-boyfriend was dead, Taehyung’s dad was missing, and now all of a sudden I had a long-lost aunt who was now my sole guardian?”

“She’s very well off,” the detective continued. “She’s even offered to pay for your mom to get treatment in a rehabilitation facility. Whatever future you have with her is sure to be a bright one.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so. I’ve met her, only briefly, but she seems very nice.”

I let the silence grow between us, not bothering to give a response. The detective finally sighed and sat back down in her chair across from me. “Y/n, Taehyung is going to jail for a very long time. Maybe even for the rest of his life. I suggest you move on with your life. Move to Busan. You’ll attend a great school there, and probably university as well. You can start down an entirely new path.”

The memory of Taehyung’s handsome face swam before my eyes, his bright, boxy smile lighting my insides on fire the way it had for the past year and a half. “What if I don’t want to?” I whispered.

“Well… That’s up to you. But the sooner you move on, the sooner you’ll stop feeling this pain.”

Detective Kwak stood up, motioning for me to stand up as well. “Come on. Your aunt’s waiting.”

We exited the interrogation room, the skin on my face itchy and dry from crying. I knew I probably looked like a mess, but I didn’t care.

“Y/n!” a deep, familiar voice shouted. I froze in my tracks, slowly raising my eyes to his inky ones. He struggled in the grip of two cops, his hands handcuffed behind his back.

“Hey baby girl,” he said, smirking. “Nice of you to come visit me.”

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Detective Kwak hissed.

“You said to move him into the interrogation room.”

“While it’s still occupied?!”

“Don’t worry,” Taehyung quipped. “We can share, right baby?”

“Get him out of here!” Detective Kwak snapped. “Now!”

The cops shoved Taehyung towards the interrogation room. I turned to look at him, desperation clenching at my heart. I realized this might be the last time I saw him, the last time I would get to tell him something. Anything. My mouth opened but no words came out.

“Don’t worry, baby girl!” Taehyung shouted, lurching towards me. “I’ll get out someday! And I’ll come for you! I will always come for you!”

I shook my head and felt tears prick at my eyes once more as the police wrestled with him. “I love you, Y/n!” he shouted just before they shut the door on him.

“Sorry about that,” Detective Kim said, holding a hand to her heaving chest. “You weren’t supposed to cross paths.”

“It’s okay,” I murmured, and to my own surprise, I meant it. I was glad I saw him one last time. I realized, in that moment, that the blue-haired boy I once knew and fell in love with was completely gone. His eyes, which once held a spark of playfulness and mischief, now held nothing but misery and woe. He let his anger for the world overtake him, allowing it to blaze a path of self-destruction that I could no longer follow.

Maybe the detective was right. Despite the fact that Kim Taehyung was the love of my life, maybe, just maybe, it was time to move on.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Part One is HEEEEEEERE! 😉

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bloodyke · 3 years

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yes!! dresses and skirts are just ❤ there are tons of other styles that I would like to try, but I'd have to get out of the house to do that or my mom would yell at me for not being a good Christian daughter lmao like I want to try fishnets and corsets and cropped shirts (well, more cropped than they are now). and one day. I WILL have platform shoes. I will.

watching hoshi go ballistic in gose is always a treat lmao he kinda reminds me of myself maybe? idk like sometimes I'm really random and stuff but usually I'm just quiet and reserved.

do u have an unpopular kpop or svt opinion?

- carat anon

unpopular opinions hmmm let me think

whoever the creative director and graphic designer(s) are need to be fired immediately i am so tired of the standing in white room with terrible font teasers they keep putting out like YES the dudes are hot but you can't rely on them being attractive give me something else to work with here you have so much room to play with concepts and you don't

the stylists also need to be fired im STILL in shock over the l&r comeback press meeting outfits they were SOOO bad like who signed off on that (i specifically hate the boring oversized suit jackets and blazers they keep giving jun they're so ugly) like their outfits are either boring as hell (the suits) or straight up ugly and unflattering which once again you have 13 hot guys who are fairly tall at your disposal there is SO MUCH you can do and experiment with that will look amazing on them but they're too cowardly to even THINK about stepping outside the box and messing with different cuts and sfabrics.... you guys should let me take over im better at your job than you are

oh and speaking of people who need to get fired, @ the hair + makeup team stop with the clown white foundation (theres literally so many foundations out there now i know its not hard to do your job and correctly color match) and same two boring hairstyles (im personally going after whoever kept slicking jeonghans hair behind his ears with one (1) pump of mousse it was boring and looked terrible while dancing) you're embarrassing me it looks bad scoob

ive noticed this trend where everytime theres a comeback everyone comes out of the woodword to claim they absolutely HATED the last comeback it was the worst song ever created they should have been ashamed to release it there was no redeeming qualities etc etc and itd be one thing if you just dont like a song i get it not all of them are winners but this happens EVERY time in such large amounts im convinced half of y'all don't actually like svt at all... plus they act like someone was personally holding them at gunpoint to pretend they liked a song and now they can finally break their silence when no one gives a shit 😭

#💎 anon #answered #the way most of these are about styling.... how to tell i have a Big Interest in fashion and style without me saying that

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roses-ruby · 5 years

Text

Cherry Muffins and Lavender Tea

Namjoon x Female Reader

Genre: College AU, Sugary Fluff, Humor if you squint, Smut but it’s ugly, and the teeny tiniest angst

Warnings: curse words, sex, orgasms, oral (female receiving), choking kink, daddy kink, hot biker Namjoon, sex with clothes on, might make you hungry (i’m not sure about everything that’s considered a warning sorry! If there’s something you want me to add, tell me)

Word Count: 8,196

Summary: You’ve got feelings for my man Namjoon, the scary looking dork that drops by where you work. But how will you relay them?

A/N: My first story! Omfgsfkhbifb I’m nervous so please leave a kind word, I’ll love you forever. Might have mistakes cause i’m an idiot. None of this would have been possible without the great @countrysundae she’s my darling and inspiration and I love her sooooo much and you should too!!! Please appreciate her Pisces ass, and send her some love! Oof anyway, please enjoy

10:30

Originally set for 8, 10 fucking 30 is when the bells of your alarm informed you to awake for maybe the 99th time that morning. Groaning in displeasure you move your stiffened muscles to shut the damn thing off. This is a process that’s become a routine; waking up way later than originally planned, no matter how many timers set, or reminders kept. Even though you admit you are sleep deprived constantly, it doesn’t make you a heavy sleeper habitually! You wake up to the tiniest noises at night, from your roommate trying to sneak back into the shared room in ungodly hours of the night to the leaking tap in the bathtub. And yet your phone’s alarm is your placebo-it does absolutely nothing for you.

Though you do try. You keep about 5 alarms on at once, to your roommate’s expense who somehow is both a night owl and early bird all at once. Speaking of which-

“So, the witch finally sees daylight,” snickers Sana

“what the fuc--how long were you there?!” You rasped, grabbing at your erratic heart

“Just got in 5 minutes ago, that was my first alarm and trust me when I say I would’ve strangled you if I heard another.”

It’s true, she’s done it before. Your poor roommate was an occasional victim of your ruthless sleeping habits. You’d sometimes slip into conscious from slumber to hear her whine about your blaring alarms in her own sleeping state. Other times you’d wake up from a pillow landing on your face from a girl who’s had Enough.™ But you didn’t feel too bad for her, since you’ve given her the option of waking you up herself and she’s proven frivolous far too many times for such a simple task. Lowkey? She deserves it.

“Ooh another fun night, huh?” You grin in your sleepy state

Sana giggles “Mhmm, think Mark’s in love with me the poor chap,” she mocks his English accent making you both laugh at yet another fuckboi who’s become a victim to Sana’s lethal looks. Giving her a glance over, from her messy hair and smeared lipstick you conclude she indeed had a very fun night.

Sana came from a well-off background and had it all. Good-looks, smarts, the money, and a very good heart. She didn’t have to go to university, but her mom was not having it. The whole ‘be grateful for the opportunity people suffer to receive’ speech led her here. A parent’s guilt tripping wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with. You considered yourself an average person. Kinda cute, smart, headstrong and half of a pretty good character…Your parents on the other hand, were really wimpy.

“We always thought you’d go to the neighborhood community college”, your dad remarked in horror holding the prestige upper state university’s acceptance letter that arrived recently.

Your dad, who thinks jaded denim vests are cool.

“You’re too young to be living on your own, you’re still a bird who can’t use her wings correctly, not ready to leave the nest!” Said your distressed mom, who’s solution to all bad food was to put more cheese on it.

Don’t like your chicken curry? Pass on the parmesan sprinkler!

You hear the bang of hands on the table and a chair screeches, “let her go, she’ll come back with her tail between her legs”, your little brother who plays fortnite all day and is going through his ‘I hate feelings but secretly cry every night’ faze shouts before storming off towards his room.

All you do is sigh and roll your eyes, picking at your over-parmesaned chicken curry with your naan as your parents continue to nag, cause after this whole fiasco your mind was certainly convinced.

You’re going to the university.

Now that you are here, nothing was easy even for someone as headstrong as you. You were smart enough for a scholarship, but living expenses were something else entirely. Which led you to seek employment at a small café, a few miles from your university. It wasn’t the most bustling of places as it drew in a handful of consumers a day, even your fellow students chose the McDonalds right across the street. Everyone enjoyed the quick coffee and frozen fries, rather than your place’s slightly pricier fresh brews and handmade savory biscuits. Alas, you considerably appreciated the quiet composure your café provided. From the dim soft white lighting, to the 60’s slow jazz-which you routinely exchanged with a Studio Ghibli playlist from YouTube discreetly, blended well together. Gave you time to catchup on your schoolwork. Your boss was a chill 42-year-old who won the lottery a few years back, and let you clock in any time before 12, even if your morning shift began from 9. Maybe it had something to do with how the last waitress quit to work at McDonalds.

And he was always there.

Kim Namjoon. The quiet stud that had captivated your heart without even trying. Also, the fucking reason you wanted to get up earlier in the mornings damn it!

Namjoon was a psychology major who was always reading a new book. Mostly from his favorite author Haruki Murakami. And he always stopped by at the place you worked to indulged them. Parking his Harley-Davidson Softail outside and softly walking in with his old school leather jacket and gloves, ripped jeans, a book in his hand, his huge hard…helmet forgotten on the bike’s handle. He’d gently relay his familiar order of cherry muffins and lavender tea, raking his hair back with those beautiful black gloves, and striding to his usual seat in the back of the café.

He’d grace your presence 3 times a week, usually at 9:30 before his 10 am classes; another early bitch bird. All you wanted to do since then was to be able to take his order.

You had met Namjoon at the beginning of your first semester last year. But he hadn’t harbored much of your attention until that fateful day. Chilly winds and frequent rain were what you were adjusting to, as fall was in its peak with every other color on the leaves a vibrant orange, grabbing at your focus. Having arrived on time for once, you were engaged in your workspace. The co-owner and your co-worker of the small café, the boss’s niece, had taken a day’s leave, and you knew she’d beat your ass if you were late. Tray in hand, you served a bacon quiche and caffé americano to the table refuging a girl in an infinity scarf and glasses who didn’t bother to look up from her phone, when the door chimed open

It’s him again, you thought at the tall stranger you’ve seen around your campus in all black stepping towards the counter. He had small droplets of water on his leather jacket and hair from the rain. You didn’t realize you were staring until he awkwardly looked directly at you, standing with an empty round tray at the side of the table of the occupied girl, who you know is also taking a secret glance at him, and shyly smiles.

Cute.

You walk yourself behind the counter and smile, “hey there”

“Hi, um two cherr-“

“-y muffins and lavender tea, right?”

He nods

“Why don’t you just say the usual?” You laugh, wringing up his order in your old school register

“I didn’t think you’d remember me out of all the customers,” he states bashfully, dimples on display

“‘all the customers?’’ you laugh louder, “we get like 15 a day, I’m sure I’ll remember you”

“Oh, I thought I just came too early”

“You definitely do! I don’t have the energy to get up and comb my hair at 9 in the morning, much less bike to a café for cherry muffins”

“You like it?” he grins “it’s a Harley-Davidson, my dad owned one”

“It’s as pretty as you sweetie,” you don’t know where that confidence was coming from, because you’ve definitely haven’t talked to a boy like this before. Blame it on the chilly weather.

“oh, thank you,” he rakes his leather gloved hands through his hair, looking down at his shoes

Stepping towards your tea station, you grab open the bag of loose organic dried lavender buds, on the shelf above. Picking up a measuring spoon, you scoop and slide in some buds in the French press. You grab the boiling water on the electric stove, next to your station and slowly pour it onto the herbs. You close down the French Press and set a timer for 6 minutes.

Taking a breath, you look around the café. Namjoon stands there as towering as a tree, looking at his book, ‘Women who Run with the Wolves.’ Most people would go sit down if it wasn’t pickup, but he always stood right at the registrar. Strange. Unsurprisingly, you remember being intimidated as hell in the beginning. Usually people that come to the café are chill in the ‘harmless millennial hippie’ type of way, dressing themselves in mutable colors. But he looked like he would yell if you even slightly messed up his order or gave a ‘wrong look’ to his bike. You loosened up when his order was always so easy, and his book choices always so cute. You almost bust out laughing when he came in with ‘A fault in our stars;’ especially when he sat at his table with glossy eyes, trying to finish the last pages. His smile also melted all worries away.

Infinity scarf girl gets up to leave (but not before giving Namjoon a longing look), leaving you both alone in the balance of your heartbeats. There was slow piano from Kiki’s delivery service filling up your café’s background. The weather still faintly drizzling, the soft gray clouds seeping through the broad windows, making the café’s wooden brown hues a tad bit dimmer, yet the fairy lights radiant. Pedestrians with transparent umbrellas in beige coats and red hats pass by every so often, not a care in the world. Smells of fresh scones and cinnamon filled your nostrils, making you remember holiday nights at home. Though your thoughts often redirected themselves towards the handsome stranger and the harmony of the quiet fall day.

The timer dings and you get back on track, using the handle to press the floating buds down to the bottom of your French press. You head toward the counter’s display case. Below is a steel countertop with coffee/tea cups, silverware, small plates, trays and a set of tongs. You grab a cup and plate, fixing them properly you pour the tea. The steam drifts towards your face, an amazing aroma that complimented the purple complexion of your brew. Grabbing a set of tongs, you take out two large cherry muffins, placing them on a tray, along with the tea. You decide to grab a chocolate chip cookie as well from one of the clear cookie jars set on the wooden crown of the display case.

“Here ya go,” you place the tray in front of him. He places his book and gloves onto the tray and gets out his wallet from his beautifulbooty back pocket. After paying he picks up the tray and halts

“Cookie?” He holds up the chocolate chip cookie in his hand, a bit confused

“It’s on the house, they’re the best thing in the café, but I end up eating most of them, so might as well give ‘em out”

He smiles, “thank you, it looks delicious”

“No problem, anything for our loyal customers,” you both laugh, “it’s beautiful out today”

“Hm, not as much as you,” he states, walking away from you towards his usual seat. Now, he turned around very quickly after he said that, so you didn’t really get to see his face after such cheesy words, but the tips of his ears were red. Oh.

He’s cute cute.

Stunned, you stand there for a moment or two, just wide-eyed; staring at nothing, until you spin on your spot and head back into the tea vicinity of the café. You feel your heartrate rise and alarms go off in your head. But not the loud intrusive kind. The kind where a baker knows his three-layered chocolate fudge cake is ready. The ones where a mom takes freshly baked cinnamon rolls out in the morning. The ones when the apple pie is prepared to be sliced. Those kinds. Covering your extremely warm face with your hands, you muffle a squeal.

Since then, you’ve started paying close attention to Kim Namjoon.

You didn’t know what it was, his tall broad frame and long thick legs, which you wanted to be choked with. His large hands in those chunky leather gloves or when he took them off, to handle the pages of his book delicately; his long skinny fingers would graze over the soft wood, both things you wanted to be choked with. Or his keen eyes that would get larger or darker depending on what part of the book he was reading, and you imagined in which manner they would present themselves with while he’s choking y-Ok. Ok. Ok. You had a kink. Endeared was how you felt at his intimidating appearance.

You also adored how far away from intimidating he actually was. You were smitten with his gentle demeanor in dealing with people. His pacifist nature, and how much he loved tiny crabs, how he was so respectful towards everyone, younger or older, never judging anyone’s appearance or his love for characters that’re as large, and clumsy as him, like Ryan from that Kakaotalk app. And his laughed that carried large amounts of joy over cheesy, silly things ultimately making you laugh as well.

You were sure you loved Kim Namjoon, yet you barely spoke to him-

I mean who’s gonna disturb a huge scary-looking dork when he’s trying to read? Certainly not you. What you desired is a way to get close to him somehow, and for that you needed to know more about him. It wasn’t hard to pick up gossip though, when you were friends with the loudest chatter mouth on the planet.

You told Sana once about your silly crush and she shrieked so hard it sounded like a howl. The next day she had all the deets on who she referred to as ‘Hunkjoon.’ He had an IQ of 148, he hates seafood, he’s so clumsy that his friends refer to him as ‘the god of destruction,’ favorite color is black (no duh), he’s well-known, terribly smart, and to your dismay, associated with the exceedingly popular frat boys Jung Hoseok and Kim Seokjin.

Ugh

Jung Hoseok and Kim Seokjin, or who you so kindly referred to as the Seokbitches, were the schools James Dean. ‘Icon of teenage disillusionment.’ Hehe, perfect definition by google. They were notorious, for playing ghosts in their classes, throwing a party every.single.damn.day., never keeping their dick™ in their pants, and having the most obnoxious laughs on the earth…

Ok, so maybe only you knew them for that. To others they were the teenage love and rebellion dream, James Dean. They never attended classes, because they were fuckthesystem peeps, threw a party everyday so the poor souls stuck in an endless cycle of capitalist warfare aka their fellow students could enjoy the more fun things life has to offer, indulged in every part of youth-including the 24/7 horny part, and had the most beautiful laughs in the damn planet.

How were they Namjoon’s closest friends…How? Anyone with a functioning brain can tell the vast difference between the trinity. Namjoon attended all his classes (yet fate didn’t give you a class with him, the bitch), he actually read books, and he wasn’t hooking up with 2-3 girls every night, unlike certain people.

You heard from a classmate a while back that ‘bout two years ago Namjoon had a serious girlfriend. Since their breakup, he hasn’t been with anyone else. It’s good that he’s single but you’ve still only talked to him here and there. A few shy glances, a few awkward touches. Nothing more, but lord do you want more, alot more. What if a girl more daring gets him first? Do you really need angst in your life? NO! but you are still at a loss of what to do. You had one boyfriend so far, and it was one of your worst experiences.

The guy was a total creep. And the worst part? You asked him out. All your friends had relationships and he was someone who rode the bus with you, making you laugh here and there. So, being the usual teenager, you thought it’d be a good idea to date him, like a fool. Who knew he wasn’t just being charming, and making fun of people (trying to be edgy as you now know) was a hobby for him? You did. Right after you overheard him announce the fact that you look like a winged bat when you suck dick just to make his jerk-ass friends laugh. It was so humiliating, as you never did something of the sorts with him, yet his friends would stick out their teeth in a ‘vampire like manner’ whenever they passed you in the hallway, as well as your first heartbreak. You got him back by filling his locker with Limburger cheese, from your mom’s collection of cheeses. His gym clothes smelled for a month, and people called him cheeseboi for the rest of the year.

You shed your blind innocence that day and knew that men are trash. Namjoon isn’t like that though, and you’re surer of that than anything. He’s special for you and you want to be the special one for him. Sadly, you just didn’t know how to start a conversation with Namjoon, without looking like you jumped in boiling water. I mean you had hook-ups in college. Who doesn’t play around here and there? But fuck-this is definitely the first time you actually like someone. Like really like them, so you just clam up and don’t know what to do. That’s where you are today.

You bounce from your bed, heading towards the bathroom. “I’m late again,” you mumble.

Sana hears that (at this point she could have better hearing than dogs)

“Hunkjoon, huh?”

“That’s not his name Sasha”

“Listen, why do you even spend your time trying to get with him in that boring café?” Sana shouts, hopping off her bed she makes her way to the bathroom and throws her hands around you who’s brushing her teeth. “You should ask him out, maybe to a club. A little booty popping, ear sucking, mouth licking, and he’s yours”

“Please don’t ever use any of those words in that way ever again.”

“I’m serious!” Exasperated she throws her hands in the air before resting them on each of your shoulders together and squeezes you. “You just need a change of scenery, that place is no hook-up central for us modern kids. Just one party, and he’ll be all over you.” You tug her off your back and narrow your eyes-looking at her through the mirror; you continue to brush your teeth. She knows you want something far from a hookup with Namjoon, yet she-

“And then,” she smirks, “maybe your mouth would be full of his cum-not toothpaste”

You choke.

“Sana what the fuck,” you rage running after the laughing vixen with your toothbrush as a makeshift knife

“Don’t act like it’s not what you want!” She cackles as you tackle her onto the bed ready to stab her eyes out when your phone rings. Oh shit. You know exactly who that is. Picking it up, you run to the bathroom, spitting out your toothpaste

“H-h-hello?”

“Where. in. Jesus’s. name. are. you?!”

“O-oh, coming Linda, I’m in traffic” Sana proceeds to imitate a car beep sound at that-“and I’ll be there in 5 minutes!”

“If you aren’t, I’ll personally serve your head as our main dish this afternoon!” She screeches before hanging up

“Shit,” you catch your breath, “I gotta go,” scrambling around, you find something appropriate to wear in late April weather. You brush your hair in a hurry and throw on a high ponytail. Sana just watches you the whole time, staring at you up on her elbows from her bed looking deep in thought. Grabbing one of Sana’s car keys and your purse, you rush out the door with a quick bye to Sana. She doesn’t reply back but after you are out the door she flings back onto her bed, arms expanded.

“I’ll ask Hobi,” she says to herself

Parking in the small lot behind the café, you run inside the back door. You gather yourself, fixing your hair and your fast heartbeat, you wrap on an apron and head to the front.

Linda spots you right away.

“You’re late,” she grits

“Yeah, traffic sucks,” you grin awkwardly, praying she’ll believe you.

“Just get to work, the pound cakes are almost ready to take out,” she points toward the oven. You nod, heading into the vicinity of the oven in the back next to the stove.

“Hey Linda,” someone shouts making you turn, “the person at table 3 wants some sourdough starter”

Linda acknowledges, moving into the back storage where the starters where kept.

You spot a girl. A new girl. A very very pretty girl, with long light brown hair up to her waist, and a delicate body. She meets your eyes and smiles and you return the gesture before looking away like you didn’t momentarily become gay looking at her soft features.

It’s good to have her around, you conclude. Usually you worked the morning shift with Linda 3 times a week, taking afternoon classes during those days. (coincidently when Namjoon comes by) You know there’s a girl who works the afternoon shift, but you never really ran into her. And since you do come late 1 out of 3 times, Linda ends up doing most of the work herself, including making all the café’s delicacies. You’re so very thankful to Linda and her uncle for not firing you, and very glad that Linda has some actual help now.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when the oven timer dings and the door chimes open.

The new girl greets the customer cheerily while you concentrate on taking an enticing whiff of the vanilla pound cakes, about to pull open the oven’s door when you stop dead in your tracks. You’d recognize that deep voice anywhere.

Turning your head so fast, you feel your neck burn from whiplash you spot your Namjoon finishing his order to your co-worker. He meets your eyes for a moment, and god you’re sure you look like a fish.

“Would you like anything else? We have really good chocolate chip cookies,” pipes the newcomer

“I know, they’re delicious,” he catches your eyes again, “but no thank you, not this time”

“Aww, well I love them a bit too much. Even though I’m new I’ve had quite a few,” she starts ringing up his order

“I thought I haven’t seen you around here”

“Moved in recently and kinda have trouble unpacking…I need a stronger body ya’know”

“Is that so,” Namjoon quirks a brow and you feel like you’ll throw up. Why is Namjoon late? Catch 22 didn’t seem like his style of book? Why the fuck is she giggling so much? Who let her steal all your cookies? And why is his hair so much messier than usual? He looks so cute omg?... What’s that burning smell?

…Shit

You gawk at the oven in horror as Linda shouts your name from a mile away.

Sana’s scrolling through her phone on her tummy when you bonk her head with your purse

“Ow, what the fuck-”

“When’s the next frat fiasco? I need to relive some stress”

She smiles, “I knew you’d come around, and that’s why I went ahead and asked Hobi to bring Hunkjoon tonight.”

You beam at the mention, “Sana you angel!” Then immediately scowl, “Wait at a seokbitch party? Just fucking great”

“Don’t be so sour,” Sana sighs, sitting up, “Namjoon doesn’t go to many parties anyway so his best friend was the only solid way to bring him.”

Giving it a thought, you beam again, jumping on Sana

“Sana you angel!”

“Whatever’s up with your hair by the way, looks like you’ve been pulling on it.”

“Don’t ask…long day.”

Arriving at the party, you grimace at the smoke of marijuana blanketing you as soon as you enter.

“Alright, Hobi should be around here somewhere,” Sana looks around,” standing on the tippy toes of her heels, trying to look past the frisky bodies, but it’s of no use with the amount of people in the room.

The room was packed with tipsy children. There was barely any elbow space even though the frat house was huge as you and Sana squeezed through hot, sweaty dancing bodies. Some unbalanced drunkards clumsily pushing into you every now and then and you wondered how anyone came to these things. It’s hot, and everyone smelled of axe and sweat. Parties would be much better with just a modest group of people you know, or maybe that’s the small-town girl in you speaking.

No! You cringed internally. You must forget about your outdated methods and passive behavior. Tonight, you will become someone completely new. Someone who takes action.

“Oh there!” Sana shouts over the music, waving furiously to someone by the stairs

Soon after you hear the jubilant voice of Jung Hoseok as he comes into view to greet Sana with a hug, and after being temporarily blinded by his smile you give him a once over or call that twice, because fuck He looked good in a simple white tee, tight blue jeans, dark brown Timberlands and his hair pushed up with what seemed like some gel and messy fingers (think back to Gayo Daejejeon 2018 mic drop)

“This is the girl I was telling you about,” Sana points at you

Hoseok joins in on your shameless gawking and grins

Embodying you was a baby pink thin strapped mini dress, and when you say mini, you mean your black Chantelle Présage lace thong is showing mini, but you’re a woman on a mission, and you didn’t care if you were naked at this point. Your hair was thoroughly straightened, and you went for a glossy cherry makeup look, courtesy of Sana. You weren’t trying to look like a cherry muffin, buuuut you didn’t mind if that’s what people thought, specifically one person.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he extends his hand, eyes duskier than a moment ago

You should wear shades in front of him or you’re sure you’ll go blind.

You shake his hand and give him one of your most forced friendly smiles, trying not to make much conversation as you just wanted one thing. Though that shiver upon your spine at his grip tells you otherwise.

Hoseok motions for you both to follow him and you pick his trail

Sana elbows you

“We talked about this! You’re supposed to be acting like a lamb, ready to be jumped on at any time, not a fox,” she whispers at your obvious display of wanting nothing to do with the Hyena

“I’m being nice! I am! This is how I’m nice!”

Sana rolls her eyes, and you sulk. It’s not your fault she is a master seductress, and you just don’t know how to be kind to the guy who’s trying to undress you with his eyes when he knows you’re here for his friend. She told you two things about seducing men, act completely incompetent and laugh at all their lame jokes. The more you feed a guy’s concocted ego, the more you feed his desire for you. And well, a way to the man’s heart is through feeding him…or something right?

But all your thoughts disappear into nothing once you lay eyes upon the man you’ve been wanting for almost a year.

Kim Namjoon, holy fuck.

Never has a loose black tee and oversized maroon velvet bomber’s jacket looked that good on anyone before. He commands your undivided attention with that low-neck line and gelled up hair. Healthy, glowing skin spread out like a canvas. His jeans ripped in all the beautiful places around the man’s thick, strong thighs, and black derby’s? Classic, yet defiant as always. He was fucking beautiful and you were awestruck. Hoseok says something to the group of 3 guys standing by the back sofa, including Namjoon, most likely about you, but you don’t hear anything once Namjoon locks eyes with you. There’s evident surprise in his eyes, which dims into concentration at the dress you’re wearing.

“So Namjoon,” Hoseok interrupts your thoughts, “I heard you both’ve met before?”

Namjoon doesn’t break away from you for a moment, smiling slightly “we’ve met, it’s nice to see you here”

He was being strangely vague. “You too,” you mutter

You could physically feel Sana scoff at the virginity act.

“Alright, I can use a drink-Ali, Jason, Sana let’s go get them”, Hoseok works fast to evade the intrusive attention on the both of you

“Why do you need 3 people to help you with drinks”, says a confused Jason

Flustered at the man’s impaired ability to read between the lines Hoseok scrambles for another excuse, “um…uh, I don’t know what you want? And uh there’s a lot of people, so uh”

Jason stubborn as ever quirks, “well I can just tell you what I wan-”

“JASON! ALI!” Sana shouts and everyone, aside from Namjoon, who won’t turn away from you, glances at her, “be a darling and pour my drink for me,” she uses her sultry voice, throws a sly smile, and they all get led away by her, even Hoseok, looking hypnotized

Watching them walk away you let out a sigh. This is it. This is your moment. You really should’ve had a shot before this. Drunk you wouldn’t clam up and clench her buttocks that sober you is doing for some reason. Clearing your throat, you start blurting out the first forms of conversation that settles in your mind.

“Nice to see you here, finally away from the café-not that I don’t like seeing you there…I mean I do, but this is nice too hehe”

You mentally slap yourself for the worst beginning. When have you ever been this quiet? Sana couldn’t get you or your alarm to shut up most of the time and this is the moment you choose to get awkward? Maybe this is it. He’ll just walk away now and you can wallow in self-pity.

“It’s great to see you too, out of that café…not that I don’t like it as well” he smiles

Your whole form relaxes, and you feel the knot of pressure in your back coming undone. You know you’re overthinking, know that your mind is self-sabotaging you, so it can get out of this hellhole back into its safe space between your bedsheets. So, you take a breath and focus on his eyes, trying to bring back the confidence of an 80’s café waitress. “You got yelled at pretty hard this morning, were you ok?” He asks

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I kinda deserved it and Linda’s the biggest sweetheart, she would never actually hurt me.” Minus where she almost tore your hair out in the backroom

“…speaking of which, why were you late this morning?” You slapped yourself again

He gave you a look. Shit. “You track me?” he grins

“No-no, nonono…n-yes. I track all my customers”, you smile awkwardly, “they keep me on my toes ya’ know the little bastards” If only you could forever tape your mouth

It was a bad joke but he lets out a chuckle where his eyes turn into little crescents and his dimples poke through his skin

“Well, I missed my alarm this morning, so I was too late to arrive on time…but I still wanted to come…”

“…Why?”

“I just,” he stares at you, “did”

“I see. It’s our tea isn’t it.”

Both of you share a laugh

“You look beautiful by the way”

“This little thing?” you twirl your hips, “just found this in the back of my closet”

The brag was true because you never fucking dressed up for anything, yet always shop like you do.

When you look at him again, you see his eyes dark at the move you just did, which you’re sure exposed your ass

Gathering courage, you start walking toward and up the stairs not giving Namjoon another glance. You could feel his bewilderment through your exposed back, as he follows you like a lost puppy. You hide a smile. Heading into an open room, you find its balcony. Outside, the spring wind picks up your hair and you take in a deep breath, letting go of all your nerves that tense up once you feel the balcony door open and close and the presence of another person in the little island.

“Are you alright?” You feel his breath on you, and you barricade a shudder

“I’m fine…I just couldn’t breathe in there with all the weed,” you turn and smile at him.

“I hate it too,” He smiles back

There’s a moment before you both break eye contact and he’s stepping up beside you

Looking out from the balcony, you pander in the serenity of the dark night and silent winds. The music is still mutely conscious in both your eardrums, as well as the laughter of kids who came here to forget tomorrow. There’s always a calmness you feel with him, no matter the weather or locality. The tips of your arms are touching and the barring heat your entire left side simmers in provides you with the translation of your need to be closer with him.

“I’m sorry I’m not good at small talk”

You turn your face to him as he takes a breath before speaking again

“I’m very awkward, sorry about that”

“You aren’t the one who’s awkward, you raise a brow, I’ve been making bad jokes all night. And well, who’s good at things like small talk?”

He smiles at you, “Your jokes aren’t bad,” he says bringing his face closer to yours, “and I love hearing you talk”

“Thank you” There’s another silence before you ask, “started a new book recently?’

“I did!” He quirks, “‘Yellow Wallpaper’ by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, it’s disturbing yet addictive. Like an Edgar Allen type you know. The increasing dread creates a form of suspense, which feels like a drug. Even though you can tell the ending won’t be good, you carry on led by a strange empathy as if you’ve become the character and it-“

Namjoon stops suddenly and stares at you smiling. “Um…sorry I got carried away, I’m probably boring you”

“Nuh-uh” you stop him immediately, “You aren’t boring at all. I love hearing you talk”

There’s a radiant blush on his cheek as red as your cherry lips, and you just want to devour him. “When I,” he begins looking away, “When I come to the café, you always seem so interested in what I’m reading. Most people don’t really care about that from me. They care that I ride bikes or about my popular friends. Not that I mind. I’m fine keeping them on a surface level. But,” He looks at you, “I want to know you better.”

“Me too” you blurt out very quickly

Your faces are so adjacent you can smell his soft mint toothpaste from his steady breathing. He’s staring at your glossy lips, your whole form is covered with his warmth, fluttering your senses leisurely

“Want a taste,” you whisper just for him to hear

“I bet it’s as delicious as it looks,” he lets out a heavy breath

“Well lucky you cause tonight I’m serving them specially for you”

You close the distance between your mouths and take in his plump lips. It wasn’t rushed, yet it wasn’t slow. It felt like the most perfect kind of kiss in the silent spring, the one that’s described in timeless romance novels. The one that you tell your children to look for, if they’re fortunate enough in their youth. That they’ll know it’s from the one.

He brings his hand upon your cheek and rubs it tenderly with his thumb. You both move back and stare in each other’s eyes.

“Well…was it delicious?”

“Better than cherry muffins,” he licks his lips to taste your cherry gloss on them

You crinkle your eyes to cringe and giggle

“You’re so cute,” he says and he’s kissing you again

This time he slips his tongue in your mouth and you hum in content, grabbing at the back of his blonde hair. Your tongues dance wildly, and Namjoon reaches for every nook and cranny of your wet cavern. Immoral sounds are escaping you both as your closed eyes burn in delight. Putting your legs on each side of his torso, he hurriedly picks you up from under your thighs and easily carries you inside the room, towards the bed.

You both break off as soon as he lands your bodies on the spring. His body still contains the heat from your thighs, and he’s pressed so close to you, you can feel your nipples against his rock-hard chest as well as the tent in his jeans. Breathing heavily, you stare in his starry eyes, filled with so much lust it feels like they’re dripping.

With a shaky breath you try to melt his lips onto yours again, just for him to shift back.

“Do you want this?” He asks, determined to move off if you refuse him

That would be a sin. “Yes.” You speak clearly, “I always wanted you, since I first saw you, Namjoon.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, before he’s on you again like the kindest, warmest deity he is.

He’s back into exploring your mouth as your hands find their home roaming his broad back. As he moves his hips up and down your wet entrance, a heat shoots up through your spine. His hands are kneading your ass, and everything is moving in slow motion for what feels like forever. Breaking off your mouth, he moves his kisses along your neck down to your cleavage, sucking hickeys on sensitive areas you moaned around. Growling at the invasive flimsy fabric surrounding your chest, he begins to tear it apart. His hands pulled down your transparent bra. You gasp at the intrusion of air surrounding your upper body.

“Mmm, fuck yes baby,” you could feel yourself soaking his cloth covered crotch as you fuck yourself upon his restricted dick.

Namjoon smirks reaching towards your back to take off your bra, letting his warm fingers tickle your skin as you lift your back to help him remove it and discard it to the side. Namjoon takes you in, caressing your face and you feel like he’s going to compliment you before he’s spitting words in your ear

“You little slut, you came here just to be fucked didn’t you”

Flustered you splutter, “Yes, ah please”

“That’s yes daddy for you baby,” he uses his large fingers to take hair off your face and removes his jacket and shirt

“Yes daddy, please,” you eye his tan muscles and broad chest. He noses your jaw and takes his mouth around your areola. You immediately run a hand through his golden locks, your mouth hangs open as he flicks your nipple with his tongue. Around his arms was sunken skin, in the form of muscles and you run your hands through every cervix.

Your breathing is labored

He moves back, moving your thong slightly to the right as he dips two fingers into you,

“Drenched and shameless muffin,” he mutters scissoring your entrance slightly, staring at you darkly

You are sprawled out for him like an unwrapped muffin. One leg hangs off the bed, while the other is desperately wrapped around his torso as if you’re scared he’ll leave. Your breasts are exposed and wet with saliva, and you’ve just handed him your cunt for the taking. You’re high off his soft sandalwood scent, as he takes your chest in his large hand, rolling your nipple in his thumb and index finger, pulling it slightly. His fingers are wet from your juices and you’re embarrassed you’re this wet. Vulnerable, you shut your eyes and look away before he grabs your cheeks with his hand and brings your face back towards him, hitting a certain spot that has you arching your back and knitting your brows.

“Don’t close your eyes baby girl, I need your focus completely on me”

“Then no more teasing,” you pout

Namjoon chuckles as he brings his fingers dripping with your silk into his mouth; looking straight into your soul he licks around his fingers in the lewdest way possible. “Sweeter than cherries” he mutters, slowly unraveling your wrapped leg and caresses the inside of your wet thigh, never letting go as if reassuring you that he’s right here. Languidly, he noses down your navel and further below until he’s lined with your aching core

“Daddy” you whimper

Giving you kitten licks around your folds, he licks a long strip before placing his tongue slightly inside your walls and suckles your juices. Your legs were on each side of his head, and you pulled at his hair out of frustration. The higher your voice went, the more he licked, bringing his tongue around your bundle of nerves and gently rolling the nub around. His hands traveled from your thighs to your waist, and slowly towards your breasts and kneaded. He flattened his tongue against your folds again, to take a finer taste of you, as he hummed knowing you were close. He took his right hand off your chest and used it to slide two fingers into your inner depths.

His mouth then went back to your clit, slowly rolling it around his tongue in a circular motion as his fingers drilled into you faster and faster. You let out a string of curses as your thighs began to shake, and the knot in your stomach becoming undone. You came with a yelp as your eyes began to see stars and vision whitened.

All your sudden adrenaline left you and your limbs limped onto the bed, fingers no longer in Namjoon’s hair. Letting out heavy breaths you saw Namjoon slowly coming out of your legs to face you. His thick lips were wet with your juices, and he licked through them and smiled.

“You’re so beautiful baby girl,” he said before kissing you again. Your tongues danced through your exhaustion, and you moved your hand towards his hard on. You felt him hiss into your mouth as you slowly rubbed him through his jeans. Backing off his mouth you smiled, it’s your turn daddy, and undid his zipper. You felt his hard dick in your hand, blessed in length. Spreading precum around his shaft, you watched him twist his expression. He reached into his back pocket and took out a condom, tearing off the wrapper with his teeth and handing it to you.

You gave him a smile as you rolled the condom onto his length and lined it with your entrance-giving him a hand job as he gradually moved into you. Once he was fully sheathed, he took a moment, before pulling out a slamming into you again

You let out a gasp at his pace, still a bit sensitive from your last orgasm. He was relentless and pounded into you over and over again, as the whole bed shook at his force.

“F-fuck dadd-y ooh” you cried as the same knot appeared inside your stomach. You grabbed his hand on the side of your head and brought it up to your face to give it a kiss. Light headed from the force of his thrusts, you could still feel him looking at you as you brought his hand upon your neck and laid it out flat

He cursed at your submission, and lightly put pressure on your neck “You’re such a good girl, daddy’s good girl, good girl fuck,” his paced faltered and you could feel your orgasm approaching with the pressure around your neck. With his other hand he stimulated your clitoris and that’s all it took to have you cuming once again.

Your mind travels back to how much you’ve wanted this-wanted him. His strong arms are no longer hidden under his bulky jacket, his fingers no longer clean with traces of paper fiber, but with your juices. How the hands you’ve wanted for so long around your neck, the eyes you waited to be filled with just you, the moans you suffered to hear from his luscious lips. It’s all happening. It’s all yours and no amount of overthinking will take this away.

With a few more thrusts he reached his own peak with a grunt, flopping down on you shortly afterward. You could feel his heavy, hot breathing on your neck and you wrapped your hands around him. You take a few more huffs before talking to him.

“I really like you” you whisper

“So I’ve heard,” he chuckles moving off you, he picks you up to move you upright in the bed with your head on the pillow and your arms still around him. He lays down next to you. “I’m not going anywhere baby. I really like you too. You didn’t really think I came for the tea did you”

Your heart soars and you meet his dimpled smile, He looks so youthful with his after sex glow, “Hey I make that tea with a lot of love and care!”

“Right, I’m sorry,” he laughs

“I didn’t know you liked me, your head is always in your books”

“Well originally, I came to chill and read. Until I found the cutest waitress that makes amazing tea-“

“-Shut up,” you jab him with a giggle

“-and I didn’t want to seem creepy, so I just payed attention to my books. But I did try to talk to you. I would stand as still as a tree next to the registrar trying to think of something to say. You tended to look intimidated of me, so I always froze up and just sat down. I asked my friends how to talk to you, and they kept giving me strange advice. I don’t think they know how to get a girl without sexual innuendos. They didn’t know how you looked, just knew you as café girl. If Hoseok found out you were café girl tonight, he’d probably try and do something stupid”

You took in the information he gave you and put the puzzle pieces together. You both were huge overthinking dorks. “I was only intimidated in the beginning,” you begin, “even if I was I still found you hot and probably would’ve jumped on your dick had you asked”

He suppresses some coughs while turning red

Smirking you lead him on, “Oh, so you’re shy now but wanted me to call you daddy just a few minutes ago”

“T-that’s” he begins, and you laugh out loud thinking this is definitely your Namjoon

“What about your choking kink? That was cute and unexpected” he gives you a sly grin

“Wait, shut u-that’s not…it’s your fault with those leather gloves, and leather jackets”

You poke his dimple out of mock anger and he tickles you. The rest of the time is spent by talking out your feelings, your dreams, favorite books, and desserts until you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

You wake up by what you believe is your alarm. Opening your groggy eyes, you look up towards the ceiling of a room that wasn’t yours. After a minute more in conscious you realize it’s not your alarm ringing, but a pounding residing from the closed door of the stranger’s room.

“Can you guys please give me my room back now,” shouts a frustrated Hoseok

That’s when you remember the nights events and look at a sleepy Namjoon next to you. After checking the time of 7:41 shining through the digital clock on the nightstand next to what you now know as Hoseok’s bed, you smile and cuddle up to the warm body.

“Go away Hoseok,” Namjoon groans, “My baby’s trying to sleep.”

Both of you ignore Hoseok’s whines of protest as you whisper to Namjoon

“It’s fine, I’m glad he’s here so I can get to work on time for once. My alarm never wakes me up”

“Babe don’t worry, from now on I’ll be your personal alarm. As long as you can be my cherry muffin”

“I’ll do you one better and make one for you at the café”

“Those cherry muffins taste good,” he looks at you, “but you taste better,” and winks

You giggle until you hear the disturbed voice of Jung Hoseok behind the door,

“You guys are disgusting and have no idea how to whisper”

...

“GET OUT OF MY ROOM”

#Bts #Namjoon #Bts fanfiction #Bts fluff #Bts smut #Namjoon fluff #Namjoon smut #RM #Kim Namjoon #R:CMLT

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cupidsmusings · 5 years

Text

The Affair That Never Happened

Description: It was here third and final and final year at Seishun High School. A year that was coveted by most and looked back on with cherished memories. For this particular student though, she found herself in a peculiar situation that set a catalyst for things to come.

Rating: PG-13

Series: The Affair That Never Happened

Chapter 3: To Pen and Paper and Out the Door

Couples: Eventual reader x Shinichi, unrequited reader x Chiharu

Author’s note: In Japan, some love hotels have age restrictions while others do not. In Tokyo, the legal age is 20, which is why the MC is worried about entering a love hotel. Another thing, most love hotels don’t have your normal front desk workers and instead have a touch screen TV in the front lobby to pick which room you’d like. Most staff working in the love hotel are never seen, which is why none were included in seeing her enter the place.

Chapters: 1, 2

Fuck. Literally what the fuck. She would be finding the entire situation hysterical if it weren’t for the fact that she was almost about to piss herself from fright. What was she supposed to do? Thank God he looked too concerned with keeping himself from vomiting again to take notice of her.

“Sorry,” Was all he managed to say and held out his hand to her.

What did he want? Was he having trouble standing and needed help? Moving to the side of him, she grasped his other arm and threw it over her shoulders so he could properly lean against the side that wasn’t covered in vomit. Wait… This could become an even more troublesome predicament. She couldn’t take him back to the dorms. He was drunk as a skunk and she doubted she could handle a fifteen-minute walk back with a grown man basically leaning atop her. Also, it seemed that he hadn’t noticed her, so if she thrust him into a cheap hotel room for him to sleep everything off, she’d be able to leave quickly and return back to the dorms without trouble.

“Just hang on okay, I’ll find you a hotel for you to stay at tonight.” She told him gently and started to walk forward.

He released a noise and made a heavy thrust of his head. What an interesting way to nod, but to each their own. The two of them walked at what felt like a snail’s pace and {Name} found herself more and more agitated as the minutes passed. Where was a damn hotel that wouldn’t suck the life out of her wallet?

“I’m sorry for taking so long,” she apologized and made sure to keep her face out of view of his gaze as she looked about them. “It seems that I’m having trouble finding you a cheap hotel.”

Without a word, he tightened his grip on her shoulders and guided them down the streets of Tokyo. Despite not being aware of where she was being taken she let herself be guided to a row of hotels. Love hotels. Oh wow. She looked up at him and was fairly amused by the triumphant smirk on his face.

“Found some.” He slurred, and she couldn’t hold back her laughter.

“I can see that.” She hummed and looked at the prices listed outside.

Indeed, love hotels were cheap. What worried her was that she was underage. What would she do if they asked her for her ID? Well, maybe not? A high-school student wouldn’t be out so late with a drunk man. With forced bravado, she guided the two through the entrance of what she thought to be the cheapest hotel amongst them. And when she went to the front desk, she found herself curious about the “themed” rooms mentioned. Imagining the ever so serious Kagari-sensei waking up in a ludicrous room was far too tempting to pass up.

“What kind of themed rooms do you have?” She found herself asking with a kittenish smirk.

She clicked the themed rooms button at the top of the touch screen panel and found herself abuzz with excitement. Which one should she pick? The Princess Room? Carnival Room? Medieval Room? A heavy S&M inspired room?

“Which room would make you squirm the most?” She asked him with a cock of her head.

He didn’t say anything, and she didn’t expect him to, but when he pressed a button on the Carnival Room, she stared at him with widened eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re afraid of Carnivals.” She whispered in slight disbelief.

“Not scared,” he shrugged, or at least tried to but it honestly just looked like he had gotten a cold chill. “It’s just girls like Carnivals, right?”

That’s when he was staring down at her and she was so stupefied by his answer she forgot to look away. The key-card popping out for them to retrieve was what broke her attention.

“Well, whatever, let’s hurry up.” She grumbled, a little saddened that she couldn’t choose the S&M room for him.

The two made their way to the elevator and once on their respected floor, the black tile lit up, pointing them in the direction they needed to go. That was pretty neat.

“Love hotels are kinda cool, huh?” She commented as they walked to the door of their room. She rummaged through her purse for her wallet, but the large man that might as well have been a large child moved to go through his own pockets.

“Calm down, I’m paying for it.” She said and tried to swipe her card, but he shoved her hand away with his own so he could swipe his.

“A gentleman should pay.” He said.

What a weirdo. It wasn’t as if she was going to stay the night with him, so he didn’t have to act like he was paying for both of them. It made sense for him to pay for it, she knew this because he would be the one staying the night after all. But her stubbornness roared its ugly head and she was more determined than ever to pay for his stay. She shoved his hand away and went to swipe her card, but he, in retaliation to her retaliation, took her wrist in his free hand and moved it sluggishly away so he could successfully swipe his own card.

Again, that stupid smug smirk was plastered on his face once more. She rolled her eyes and patted him between his shoulder blades.

“Good job, you true gentleman you.” She commented dryly as she swiped the key card in the door to open it.

What greeted her was cotton candy-colored walls with large surgery sweets painted on them. The floor was a sparkly pink with blotches of see-through glass randomly placed atop it. Upon further inspection, she could make out glass confections in the shape of balloons and wrapped candies that were surrounded by a gentle layer of soft stretched cotton that gave the falsehood of it being cotton candy. The bed was king-sized, with the four posters striking upward all the way until it touched the ceiling. It twisted and turned like a unicorn's horn and was painted rainbow with a sparkle finish. Carved into the backdrop of the bed was a carousel with nude women and men having sex atop the different animals. There was a couch to the right of the bed that was an ungodly bright shade of yellow with hot pink trimmings. The ceiling was covered with sheets that gave the impression that they were inside of an outdoor circus tent.

“Toilet,” he managed to mutter out before wrenching himself from her to clumsily make it to the bathroom in time.

She watched him with pity and slight curiosity. What made him go out drinking so heavily in the first place? Was it the sorrows of love? Was he in debt? Did he realize he’d never get a woman with his rude attitude? Well, that last one could be a part of the sorrows of love but it was an extra jab she couldn’t help giving him. With one final once over of the impressive room she walked into the bathroom. She crouched down beside him and ran a soothing hand up and down his back.

“You sure did drink a lot, huh?” She smiled at him, not bothering to hide her amusement. “Did you get dumped?”

“No,” he managed to say after he heaved a few junks in the toilet. “Just met up with an old school buddy that wouldn’t let me leave until he had me drink my fill.”

“You’re an adult, right? You had the choice to say no, so don’t blame it on your friend. You’re not young enough to experience pure pressure anymore.” She laughed and restrained herself from playfully smacking him on the back.

“What an astute answer.” He couldn’t say much more because he was throwing up before he could.

“Not astute, just true.” She hummed and went to gently comb her fingers through his hair. When her father was dealing with a hangover, he liked her mother doing it, so she unconsciously assumed it would help him.

She should remove her fingers, she knew this, but his hair was so soft. She had never felt such feather-like hair. To be fair she wasn’t going around delving her fingers into the hair of strangers, but it was an honest comment none the less. Once it looked like he was finished, she went ahead and used her already dirtied cardigan to wipe away the leftover vomit that coated his lips.

“Feels nice.” He smiled at her, and oh boy if he smiled like that more often he would definitely have more suitors.

“Glad to hear it, I guess.”

She helped him to his feet and dragged him over to the plush comforter and what seemed to be a thousand pillows that decorated the bed. She watched him sit up and laughed as he put on a dramatic show of trying to remove his suit jacket. Not wanting to waste any more time there than she already did, she hurried to help him remove his jacket. Once out, he reached out and with a contradictory of unsteady but firm hands he tried to undo the buttons of her cardigan, to what she guessed was in order to remove it from her person. She very much liked it on her person though, so she gently pinched the foreskin of his hand.

“Quit it,” she said but he looked up at her with a stern expression.

“We have to get you out of your dirty clothes.” He told her, his tone matching that of someone who was telling another that they were about to go into battle.

“You should take a bath as well,” he started just as she opened her mouth to protest. “You got some in your hair.”

“I what?” She almost snapped but was thankful that her voice came out more confused than shrill.

“Here.” He said and gently cupped a few strands of her hair underneath his fingers.

“Well, that’s just disgusting.” She grumbled on the verge of hurling herself.

“But it wasn’t when I threw up on your cardigan or when you cleaned my lips for me?” He asked, sounding rather amused despite being the source of her problem.

“That was on my clothes, but my hair is part of my body, so it’s grosser that way.”

“Is it?”

“Yes! Yes, it is!”

Why was he the one sounding amused now? With a huff, she walked over to the bathroom door before turning a sharp glare at him.

“If you peek I’ll do some not very nice things to your baby maker.” She warned him before she shut the bathroom door.

She gently peeled her cardigan off her and made sure that no aspect of vomit touched her skin. Time passed and though she only meant to wash her hair, she had been too tempted by the jetted tub. She had never been in one before, so it was purely for curiosity reasons. It was definitely not because she felt weird leaving the bath after a shower in front of her teacher. Because that would just be silly. And she was a mature woman that didn’t get embarrassed by such things.

She had been soaking in the jetted tub for about ten minutes when the door was thrusted open, with Kagari-sensei running in. He did not run to the toilet and instead went over to where she was.

“What the hell are you doing?” She growled and sunk her shoulders deep into the water.

Thankfully the bubbles from the jets prevented the intruder of seeing her nude form.

“There’s a camera in here. I pressed a button on the remote and the bathroom popped up on the screen.” He explained, but that was it.

“One: When did you do this and how much of my body have you seen? Two: Why did you feel the need to enter the bathroom while I bathed? It would have been easier to just pretend like it never happened.” She sighed and quirked a brow at him.

She wasn’t embarrassed, not at all. Because she was a mature woman and mature women didn’t grow nervous over such things such as the bizarre situation she found herself in. Screw it. This was so embarrassing. She wanted to die. Thankfully the room was also quite dim, so she doubted he could make out her face, let alone her body. But still, death would be appreciated at that point in time. Or the power to teleport. Or the power to erase memories. Both would be amazing to be quite honest.

“But that would be lying.” He stated firmly. “And I don’t lie.”

“Everyone lies.” She found herself arguing.

Was now the time to be arguing? No, no it was not. But here she was, naked as the day she was born arguing with her teacher.

“Not me. Lying is wrong.”

“It’s also wrong to come barging into a bathroom where a lady is busy trying to clean herself. Especially after it was the said male that came barging in that caused it. You might as well be the one bathing me.” She replied soddenly.

That was when he knelt beside the bathtub, readying himself to bath her. She looked to the wall opposite of him, clearly mortified. But with him so close she couldn’t take the chance of him seeing her face. But he saw her face before this right? Maybe he was too drunk to notice? He had not made the comment of knowing who she was. That wasn’t the point though. The point was that she was being sarcastic.

“I wasn’t being serious. You can leave.” For the love of God leave.

“Oh, alright.”

She listened to him walk to the door and waited a minute or two after he left to sink her entire head into the warm water. What a nightmare the night turned out to be. When she left the bath she hurriedly dried her body and only dried the bare minimum of her hair, because if she did all of it, it would take way longer than she would have liked. She just wanted to leave. When she dressed herself she didn’t bother putting her cardigan on and instead opted to just hold it.

Once out of the bathroom, she found Kagari-sensei’s shoes, pants, and shirt strewn about the floor. He was neatly tucked underneath the sheets like a child. All peaceful and blissful in his drunken state. Screw him for that.

“Alright,” she started and made sure to reframe from saying his name. “I’ll be leaving now, do you think you’ll be okay?”

“You can stay too, it’s late after all.”

“Can’t do that.”

If he found out who she was he would get her expelled from school before resigning himself in shame. He was far too serious for his own good. At least he seemed to let loose at some points in his life, which was interesting. It was then that she considered that perhaps her school’s teacher’s actually had their own lives outside of being prude-y and stuck-up.

“At least leave your cardigan.” He urged and before she could reply he gripped the front of her shirt.

“Fine,” she let out a troubled sigh. “I’ll leave it with my phone number so text me when you’re finished washing it or whatever.”

“Or whatever? What else would I be doing with it?” He asked, amused once more.

“Just go to sleep.” She snapped and gently smacked her palm against his forehead. “Set your phone alarms so you don’t oversleep. Bye.”

She laid her cardigan out on the armchair of the couch before she quickly wrote down her number on a napkin from the bedroom’s wet-bar. She put the napkin on the bright pink coffee table and made sure it was in plain view for him. When she looked at her phone and, upon seeing the time, let out a curse.

She turned to glare all her frustration out onto the bastard that caused her such trouble. He was, of course, peacefully asleep. With gentle steps not to wake him, she walked over to the bed. With care, she removed his glasses from his face and placed them quietly on the night-stand before leaving the room. It wasn’t until 2:20 that she got back to her room on campus.

#voltage inc #after school affairs #shinichi kagari #chiharu utsumi

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enkelimagnus · 5 years

Text

An Angel and a Demon

Sebastian!Jonathan x Isabelle, Halloween fic

Read on AO3

“Are you sure your friends will be okay with this?” Sebastian asks.

They are walking on the sidewalk, from the subway to the Hunter’s Moon. The hood of his hoodie is up and covering his face in shadows. He’s not wearing his usual “skin”. Isabelle has convinced him to use his burnt face as a Halloween costume.

No matter what isabelle says, he can’t get himself to take off the hood yet. She keeps reassuring him, tells him no one will care, everyone will think it’s either a neat costume or he’s a poor guy who deserves a drink.

He doesn’t know HOW she’s convinced him to go like this. She didn’t force his hand, because she wouldn’t be able to. He just… agreed. And now he’s regretting it. His usual feeling of disgust when looking at himself is still there, and stronger than ever.

“I am,” Isabelle shrugs, and she gently squeezes his hand. “Everything will be alright, Seb.”

He sighs a little and nods. The Halloween party invitation had come rather late and neither of them had been able to do the research they’d wanted to do for it. In Isabelle’s purse, there was a cheap devil horns headband that he could put on with his red tshirt if he didn’t feel comfortable. In that case, he’d be a demon. It would also fit them.

Isabelle was wearing a white lace bustier bra with a short white satin skirt tied over white booty shorts. Thigh-high white stockings with a less garter went up to her thigh with some very high silvery heeled sandals. She had put on fluffy wings and had a headband with a fluffy white halo over her head. She was an angel. And he was a demon. Fitting.

She had one of his jackets on top of her outfit, because New York Fall was cold, and he didn’t want her to get sick, even if she was a strong angelic warrior.

They made it to the Hunter’s Moon pretty quickly and before they walked in, Isabelle turned around and looked at him. He felt like moving away, keeping her from seeing his burnt face. He sighed a little as she took a step closer and slid her hands up his chest.

“You don’t have to. You can go as a hot demon if you want to,” Isabelle whispers, impossibly close. He feels like he can see every speck of glitter in her eyeshadow. “Or we can go home.”

“We made it here. We’re not coming home,” he replies and she nods. “I’ll… Listen, I will start with the demon. And we’ll see with the burn later okay?”

Isabelle nods and takes the horns out of the pocket of the jacket. She gently pushes back his hood and when it falls, he’s put on the British blonde-haired face again. She arranges the headband into his hair and smiles.

“Here you go, my sexy demon,” she grins and leans in to kiss him. He kisses her back, wrapping an arm around her waist under the too-big coat. “Let’s go?” She asks, and he nods. He keeps one of his arms around her as they walk in.

The music is louder than it usually is. There are Downworlders drinking and enjoying themselves. Shadowhunters don’t really do Halloween, but the group Sebastian is now a part of is almost half Downworlders.

Isabelle’s brother and his husband are wearing Addams Family costume, Alec as Gomez and Magnus as Morticia. Sebastian’s sister, Clary, is wearing a purple dress, purple boots and a lime green scarf, and Jace is wearing jeans and a white shirt with a blue color and a orange scarf tied around his neck.

Simon Lewis, the vampire, and Maia Roberts, the werewolf, aren’t wearing any costume. Maia is working the bar and Simon has also invited his sister, a mundane girl called Rebecca.

Clary stands up first as she sees them. She walks up to them and hugs Isabelle first, before turning to him. He waves hi awkwardly and she hugs him as well. The hug he gets a bit looser than the one Isabelle got, but it’s understandable.

Sebastian volunteers to get some drinks and says hi to Maia. He orders for everyone and gets his wallet out when someone walks up and stands next to him. It’s Rebecca. The dark-haired, obviously mundane in a cute way, woman smiles at him.

“So. I’m Rebecca.”

“Sebastian,” he replies, and smiles back a little.

“I know. Simon and Clary told me about you.”

Sebastian immediately straightens up and licks his lips. He doesn’t like when people do that. Talk about him first without telling him. He can only guess the horrors Rebecca has heard about him.

“I’m better now,” he says.

Rebecca shrugs. “I was just told you might come with like… some cool burn costume.”

Sebastian raises eyebrows and looks over at where Simon and Clary are standing. Next to them is Isabelle. She’s taken off the coat and she looks incredibly sexy. He clears his throat and looks away.

“It’s… not a costume. I… that’s what I look like under the glamour,” Sebastian replies.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he has a bit of a chuckle. “Oh.”

Rebecca is silent for a moment. Maia starts giving them their drinks.

“And… I’m guessing you don’t like people seeing the burns, right?”

Sebastian nods. “I… That and I don’t want people to be afraid and ask questions.”

“You can always say that they are fake. Latex, FX makeup… you know. People can do some pretty realistic fake shit these days,” Rebecca says, taking her beer and sipping it a little. “They did tell me you used to be an asshole.”

Sebastian chuckles more at that. “You can put it that way.”

Rebecca shrugs. “Whatever it is… I think the burns thing would be hella cool. And you can still switch back if you’re uncomfy. I have the feeling the folks in here are pretty accepting about stuff one would find ugly.”

She walks away on that, with her cute little vampire cape and the first of the rounds of drinks he’s paid for. He ends up going back to the table with the drinks. As he laughs and chats and drinks, Isabelle by his side, he keeps thinking back to the words he’s heard from Rebecca.

At some point, he escapes to the bathroom. There, he stops in front of the mirror and stares at himself. He undoes the glamour, but only halfway. It’s still burnt, but it’s a bit less… ugly. And a bit less inhuman. And he finds that a good alternative. For now, he can start with that.

He walks back out and there’s some silence as people stare. He feels bad. His skin kinda crawls and he’s thinking of turning the glamour back on entirely when he sees Isabelle’s wide eyes and the grin on her face.

She rushes to him and wraps her arms around his neck. “I’m so proud of you, babe,” she grins and he finds himself smiling. He thinks she’s going to let go but she doesn’t. Not for a moment. She watches him, and leans up to kiss him.

It’s just a peck, and Sebastian wonders how she’s doing that, because his face isn’t really kissable that way. Jace huffs something like ‘gross’ but she shoves her middle finger in his face. Sebastian spends the rest of the evening smiling.

He turns the glamour back on as they leave the Hunter’s Moon. When they get home and stumble into bed, she’s still dressed as an angel and he’s still dressed as somewhat of a demon. They spend the rest of the night wrapped up in each other and he takes a lot of pleasure in ‘defiling’ his sexy angel.

#sesabelle #fic #mine #jonathan morgenstern #isabelle lightwood #jonathan x izzy #sebastian x izzy #shadowhunters

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pseudonymfox · 6 years

Text

Lay your love on me (2)

Negan x Reader

Summary: Negan is your one and only love but you are scared that you’ll lose him…

This Part: Time passed by since you confessed your love to Negan and the war took place. Things changed, you met new people and you try to find a way to Negan...

Warnings: fluff, angst, language, mentions of violence

A/N: Well I found some motivation for that and decided to turn a few things around. It’ll be probably a series. oops :D

Masterlist

<<Previous Part

It has been about one year and a few months since you stood alongside other saviors with a gun pointed at you and arms raised in surrender. As Rick shot his hand hand up with a glass shard that slit Negan’s throat open letting him fall to the ground. You watched the scene in front of you in horror just standing still on your point, not being able to move or rather not being allowed to while holding with everything you had the scream back that seemed to escape you mouth, silently the tears rolled down your cheeks wiping them just as fast away.

“Save him” you remembered Rick saying letting the hope inside you grow again. Even when he didn’t love you back you couldn’t just stop loving him as painful as it was. Negan was being held in the infirmary for the time he needed to heal just enough before they threw him the cell. Nobody knew exactly what was happening between you and him maybe besides a few saviors and wives that told around some lies. Rick decided to put you and a group of Saviors into a camp to repair a bridge. You felt thankful for that, most of them treated you and the saviors like shit but you understood why and even the Saviors treated them just like they did.

There was just this ugly tension between the groups even tho Rick tried his best to bring everyone together, in your opinion it’s wasn’t possible anymore. The things that happened and people who got killed can’t be brought back. There was no chance that everyone just forgive each other. It was just out of control and it got even worse as Justin, one of the Savior got into fights multiple times, mostly with Daryl.

After he suddenly disappeared with a few others and later found dead it got too much for everyone. It could have ended in a fight but things got cleared in last seconds and the Saviors decided to get back to the sanctuary just like the people from the Kingdom did. Now you stood in between the groups and didn’t know where to, you didn’t felt really welcome by any of the groups anymore.

The bridge was mostly done and the thoughts of just leaving crossed your mind already few times but there was just this one thing that held you back. A part of you wanted to see him just this one last time, you weren’t sure why because you knew he didn’t love you back and as much as you wished it you couldn't just stop loving him.

Standing in your tent slowly packing your stuff you haven’t even noticed that Rick entered.

“(Y/N)? You’re leaving too?” he asked snapping you out of you buzzing thoughts.

“hm?..Oh well the bridge is mostly done and everyone seemed to be going back to their homes and I..” you told him but stopped and shrugged.

“If you want I maybe have a job for you back in Alexandria? We need here and there still a helping hand” He suggested you. There are reasons to say no but one big reason to say yes was currently in a cell there so you smiled and agreed with him.

“Yes of course! If you need me”

“Good. You can take a horse right back and ask Michonne where she needs you the most” Rick told you and guided you to your horse. You were told not to name the animals but you really did liked your pitch black mare, so you named her Athena. Hopping on her back you turned around to Rick again.

“Thanks (Y/N)” he said which you returned with a smile before Athena took off riding towards Alexandria.

Faster as you could think of you found yourself on a familiar street not far away from your destination. Stopping suddenly as you heard shots sounded through the sky. Thinking for a moment to turn around you decided not too. It was too far away,it got slowly darker and who knows what it was. With a slightly bad feeling you took the last miles a bit slower as Athena seemed to be tired as well.

You anxiety seemed to mess with you as you walked alongside the men who opened the gate for you to Michonne who approached you with Judith in her arms.

“(Y/N) what can I do for you?” Michonne asked as she thanked men who took Anthena with him to take care of her.

“Rick told me that you needed some help here” you told her what he said and secretly hoped she didn’t put you on guard duty right away.

“Always! If you want you can have the house down the street. It’s not really done yet but you can live in it for now.” Michonne pointed at the house that half of it was in a rusty black caused by the flames.

“Tomorrow I would like to put you onto the fields. We got some problems with ravens and the plants are dying. If that’s alright with you?” she asked and walked you to the front porch of the house.

“More than alright” you laughed and remembered as you helped the farmers back in the sanctuary.

“Take some rest. I’ll send Nora to you tomorrow morning she’ll tell you what to do and show you around” she smiled another time before turning around and leaving with Judith in her hand.

“Thank you!” you called after her and she just waved before continuing to walk.

You saw Alexandria maybe one time before Negan decided to throw some grenades in here. You felt so sorry and somehow guilty for everyone who lived here and everything that had happened and mostly also for yourself for falling for the leader that kinda caused everything of that.

Back in your room you decided to end this weird and exhausting day with a hopefully peaceful sleep.

The next day you already showered, ate something and dressed yourself for the day as you heard what probably only Nora could be. Grabbing your jacket you opened the door being greeted by a brightly smiling young women.

“Good Morning. Are you (Y/N)?” she asked you and you just nodded, still in a sleepy trance.

“So I am Nora and if you’re ready I would love to show you around first of all before I show you your workplace”

The both of you headed outside and began you small trip, there wasn’t much to show but she told you so much about the history of the place, the people, how she got here and what the plans are for the future.

“Oh shoot I totally forgot to bring the food into the cell” she face palmed herself and jogged with you to the kitchen where the already prepared food stood. This became a way to much reality as she began to search for the keys while you held the single sandwich and a glass of water in your hands. You weren’t ready to see him yet, or where you? You became truly a headache from all of this. There was no way out of this as she took the plate again and walked with you inside and through another door again before you saw. It was dark and cold there which didn’t help at all. Negan was laying on the bed and as he heard the door opening and closing again he sat up and looked at Nora first before he noticed you while you tried desperately your very best to stay in the shadows behind Nora who placed it within his reach. As you catched his glance once you saw him in some kind of prison suit, a long salty beard and short hair. For a moment you just thought that couldn’t be him but you would remember those eyes everywhere and as his voice sounded through the air it was more than clear that it was really Negan

“What do we got today..Oh the same shitty food as yesterday what a fucking great surprise” he scoffed out and looked back up capturing your glance and letting you blood run cold. Nora turned around and took you with her towards the door. One last time you saw him his eyes at you, widening as he seemed to realise who you are.

Fuck you just thought as you heard him call after you “Wait!” but Nora didn’t stop to walk out of the door and call one last time back to him.

“You know the rules” she simply said and started to lock the door again.

“Rule number one. Don’t talk to him as much he tries to‘ she chuckled and you joined not knowing what to say at all after the shock you still stuck in. Back at the fields she instructed you what you had to.

Just clearing the plants from the dead one, watering and and planting new one. It might have been simple but the fields weren’t small.

Back home again and covered in dirt you just took a shower and literally fell into the mattress. Sadly the sleep didn’t seem to stay. You always stayed in a state between being awake and half asleep. Frustrated you threw the covers off of you and stood up deciding to start the day now, it wasn’t that dark anyways.

An good hour later you sat at your kitchen counter with hot coffee in your hand and stared at the other side of the room of the connected living room where the flames destroyed the walls and part of the floor. Maybe you could repair that too, can’t be that hard you thought. A knock on your door let you flinch up for a second and Nora stood just as yesterday taking you with her to the fields.

As you work your ass of the next hours with your knees slumped down in the dirt you noticed a few things. Nora came multiple times out of Negan’s cell room, every time with a plate full of food then Michonne tried it with just as much luck. Why wasn’t he eating you asked yourself and stopped with your work for Lunchtime.

You grabbed yourself a sandwich and a cup of tea while you sat down on a bench outside not wanting to get weird looks between the others who ate all together. A young man came walking towards you sitting besides you.

“Hey” you mumbled to him hoping that he had good intentions.

“(Y/N) right? Why are you sitting here all alone?”

“Uhmm sorry what was your name?” you asked the man with slightly longer and ginger colored hair you sadly didn’t recognize anywhere.

“Oh I am Sam” he shook his handy with you, it felt weird to see someone now who is nice to you. Just some Saviors like D.J or Arat where really nice to you, you sometimes even missed them.

“Wait Sam? Are you the guard?” you ask feeling now that it made click after you knew you heard that name before.

“Yes I am. Sadly not the best job here” Sam laughed deeply. He seemed honest and nice but you could be never sure enough.

“I heard that Ne-” you tried to ask but he scooted over and cut you off with a hand over your mouth. Confused you grabbed his hand and twisted slightly.

“Don’t touch me” you said really quiet but with firm eyes. You didn’t wanted to hurt him so you let go again.

“Wow you’re really strong..” he said in totally amazement before he continued. “- anyways we don’t say his name”

Shaking your head now it was your turn to laugh.

“This is not Voldemort..he is just Negan”

“In which relationship did you stood with him (Y/N)?” Sam asked raising his eyebrows and you gulped harshly.

“Well..I...Doesn’t matter. Whatsoever I wanted to ask why he is not eating?” you asked him interested.

“I dunno..he is always saying that he wants to talk to her, that he wants to see her but I don’t even know about who he is talking about” he shrugged poking around on the last bits of his food.

“Maybe he’s talking ‘bout his damn bat” Sam scoffed standing up with the now empty plate in his hands.

“Well maybe we can eat something later again? I have to go look now if he ate something” he asked with an obvious blush on his cheeks.

“I guess yes” you chuckled and made your way also back to the fields. You really didn’t wanted to use Sam to get to Negan or find out more about him but he was also your only chance. Besides that was he even really who he seemed to be or are you just paranoid enough to think that about everyone. With your thoughts stuck on so many and different things you didn’t notice how the time passed by like nothing and sun already stood deep setting the sky in a pink beauty while you still kneeled on the field, great that everyone just got home without asking you or letting you know. On your way home you walked by the house Negan was locked inside, Michonne and Sam just walked out of the door, they were in some kind of discussion.

“(Y/N)! Can you wait a second?” Sam called after you. Slightly cursing under your breath you hoped that you could just walked by and go home for today but fine you didn’t wanted to seem rude or weirder than you already are. You walked over to them and saw Michonne just silently waving at you as she she walked away.

“Hey Sam what’s wrong?” you asked interested why Michonne looked so stressed.

“He still doesn’t want to eat..Michonne meat he is in some kind of hunger strike” he said rubbing the back of his neck. Then you catched an idea, might be an stupid one.

“Can I go in?” you asked Sam with the biggest smile you had but his eyes just widened and he looked angry.

“Are you out of your mind? That’s too dangerous and we would be in big trouble if someone would see this” he shouted at first but then whispered the rest, not wanting to catch even more attention who know who is watching.

“You don’t need to open the cell Sam just let me talk to him..alone” you whispered back hoping he would just do it.

“(Y/N) I’ll tell you this one last time. No!” he replied firmly. Fine if he doesn’t want it that way then you should have it your own. It was such a stupid and big risk but what could you lose anyway, all you knew was that first of all he had to eat and you needed to know one or two things.

“Ok..How about you get us something to eat?” you said flirtatious smiling at him with big eyes.

“Oh..yeah..I-I’ll go get something to eat. Just stay here” he chuckled nervously before he run off.

Sighing deeply you waited til he was out of sight before you decided to go in.

Next Part coming soon..

Feedback appreciated!

Taglist(open):

@thisismysecrethappyplace / @bitchsike1 / @escapetheshackles / @dashlilymark

xoxo Sophie

#negan the walking dead #negan x reader #negan x you #Rick Grimes #michonne #negan twd #The Walking Dead

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iv-kplpt · 7 years

Text

you steal the air out of my lungs

plot summary: au for charlie and oswald inspired by my fav movie - “red eye”. loosely inspired. she falls for a handsome friend of a friend. he turns out to be not who he claimed to be. she’s conflicted. there is some Sad involved. also, a man dies - actually, make that 2. basically i built another au with a lot of potential. i always wanted a batman universe without the batman. will be put on ao3 along with the collegeverse as soon as i write some more weird aus.

10k words. no explicit violence or sex. skyler hill belongs to @alan-of-all-trades and louise still belongs to my babe. thanks for letting me use them, i love you guys.

At first it was just a blind date.

It all began about three months earlier, when her friend set her up on a casual date with someone. Charlie had moved to Gotham about six months earlier, because her parents - renowned hotel owners, behind family-owned Crowne Continental suggested a change of surroundings might help her. They wanted to try and branch out a bit, and Charlie was tasked with overseeing Crowne Continental's first branch outside of New York.

Being a resolute person, she quickly found some friends in Gotham to hang out with during rare free evenings - a lawyer, two journalists and a secretary, all young, elegand and succesful; and in relationships. She actually befriended two couples - and they were absolutely wonderful, helpful and welcoming when needed and snarky at other times; but their pet names and lovestruck gazes felt a bit like salt to the wound of her own loneliness.

She was not on good terms with her ex-husband. Their - quick and ugly - divorce left her feeling scarred and disillusioned; but at the same time, she missed and craved the emotional intimacy of a relationship, the pet names, the feelings, the physical aspect. She missed being in love and she missed the feeling of someone being in love with her.

(She knew the world is not a loveless place. She still had people around to remind her of this fact.)

So when Louise - her lawyer friend, who was actually an assistant district attorney, working under Harvey Dent - offered to hook her up with a friend of hers Charlie didn't really mind.

"He's a decent guy." she assured her, when they were sitting in their favorite café, drinking iced lattes. "He's kind of... Obnoxious at times, but he's an old friend. He's a charmer, really."

"Alright, let's say I'm in. Is he handsome?"

"That depends on your definition of handsome, sugar. He's definitely not my type."

"Well, what does he look like?"

"Like an asshole." Louise replied instantly, laughing quietly. "Sorry. Me and Tommy, we go way back and after some time this became my default way of describing him. He's... Tall. Black hair, grey eyes... Kinda slim. I'm sure he's handsome in eyes of people who like the bad boy type, because that's his main aesthetic. And he's very committed to it. He's great at pretentious dishevelment."

"Did you just quote Robert Pattinson?"

"Maybe." Louise replied nonchalantly, taking another sip of her coffee. "But how would you know this in a first place? Been watching some interviews, Charlie?"

"I liked Twilight for some time." Charlie confessed. "I was totally Team Edward."

"Fuck, seriously? We're no longer friends, I was Team Jacob. But I guess... You might like Tommy, considering your shitty taste in men." Louise said with a smirk and Charlie groaned, almost regretting mentioning that in the first place.

"So, are you up for it?"

"Alright." Charlie agreed more enthusiastically than she planned to. "Set us up on a date. Just... Don't make it a coffee date. I'm starting to get sick at the thought of bean juice."

"Oh, you high maintenance minx." Louise sighed dramatically. "Fine. No coffee. It's a good thing he prefers tea anyway. When are you free?"

"I have a slow afternoon tomorrow."

"Perfect."

She took out her phone and - not taking her eyes off Charlie's amused face - called someone.

"Hey asshole." she said after a moment. "Are you free tomorrow? She said yes. What? Oh, sure. Hey Charlie, any location preferences?"

"Somewhere near Crowne would be perfect, I have a meeting in the evening-"

"You heard her, somewhere near Crowne. Mmmhmmm. Yeah. Sure. Don't be late. Fuck off. Bye!"

She hung up and smiled cheerfully.

"He can meet you at three at Aisha's. You know where that is, right?"

"I've been there a few times. They have great cupcakes there."

"Great, then you're all set. He says he's looking forward to meeting you."

"Does he know how I look like?"

"I told him you're pretty. And... Very red-haired. Is that even your natural color?"

"It is, actually. It runs in the family."

"You're a mutant."

"Aren't we all?"

*** The thought of - altough a casual and with no strings attached - her upcoming date with Louise's mysterious friend was making her slightly nervous and excited at the same time. She knew Lou wouldn't set her up with a complete douche - she had faith in the people Louise surrounded herself with. He was an old friend, after all; their relationship lasted for years for a good reason.

She was slightly late, when she arrived at Aisha's Teahouse - her previous meeting was longer than she planned and then she got lost on the way, because she decided to not take a cab.

The place was crowded when she walked in, her hair a mess and her cheeks red, thanks to the wind. She looked around quickly, trying to figure out if her date is already there.

"Are you Charlie?" she suddenly heard a voice; an elderly waitress was standing in front of her, resting her empty tray on her hip. "There is a young man waiting for you. There, in the corner."

"Thank you!" she replied, taking her jacket off and putting it on a rack. "Oh, I see him."

Tommy indeed was already there - in the far corner of the room, occupying one of the more secluded tables. He was reading something on his phone and only looked up as she approached the table; and during her short walk she had a chance to take a good, long look at him.

He was handsome, she decided. Exactly her type, if she even had one - if she was younger and still in her rebellious phase, she'd probably fall for him instantly, for his smirk, for his bright eyes and a small scar across the bridge of his nose.

"Hey." she said nervously. "Sorry I'm late."

"Not a problem." he said; he put his phone down and got up, looking at her and for a brief moment she found herself completely lost in his eyes and the first hints of crow's feet next to them. "I have to say, Lou's words didn't quite do you justice."

He winked at her, gently took her hand and brushed it with his lips, still looking her in the eye. She was almost glad her cheeks were red from the wind - it masked her blush a bit.

"She was right when she said you're a charmer." she said, as he pulled out a chair for her and she sat down, noting the faint scent of his - definitely not cheap - cologne.

(Her father was a connoisseur, and she learned the difference between the good colognes and the cheap stuff at a fairly young age. In fact, she was almost sure Tommy is using the same brand as her father.)

They ordered - classic Earl Grey and blueberry muffin for him, and Darjeeling and strawberry cheesecake for her - and she started playing with her fingers, staring at her palms and only glancing at him occasionally.

He was smiling every time she looked at him, his head tilted slightly to the side.

"So, Charlie... Who talks first?" he said finally. "You? Me?"

"Let's play rock-paper-scissors." she suggested and his face lit up. "The loser has to be first to introduce themself like a loser."

"Deal." he said, hiding his right hand under the table.

He lost and she took a sip of her hot tea to hide her smile.

"Let's see..." he said eventually, stirring his tea. "My name's Thomas, I've lived here and there, and I'm not related to the Gotham businessman named Thomas Elliot. I like... Dogs. Nerd stuff. Oh, and boxing. And color red." he finished with a smirk, glancing at her hair. "Now's your turn."

(His eyes on her felt rigt.)

"My name's Charlie, I'm from New York and yes, I am related to those slightly obnoxious hotel owners. I like..."

She paused for a moment, trying to find the right stuff to list (and to not impulsively say you).

"I like games. And good tv shows. Not soap operas though, those are unbearable. Red wine. Penguins. Lace."

"That's an interesting combination. Penguins? Really?"

"They are cute." she said defensively. "Also I watched Pingu a lot as a kid. Must have imprinted in my brain, or something."

"I'm not judging. Usually people pick cats or horses or snakes as their favorite animals. Not... Penguins."

"Yeah, well, I'm one of a kind." she said nonchalantly and he grinned and her heart skipped a beat.

"Then I guess I'm a really lucky guy."

They spent a nice afternoon together, once she loosened up a bit - Tommy really was a charmer. He was funny, attentive, great at compliments; and there was something in the way he looked at her, the way he tilted his head that was making her feel a pleasant warmth.

"God!" she said eventually, glancing at a clock and getting up. "I have to go, I'm going to be late!"

"Time flies when you're having fun." he stated playfully. "Now, before you go... Will I see you again?"

"If you want to." she said quickly, her heart beating surprisingly fast; she damn sure wanted to see him again. "But now I really have to go. I'll take your number from Lou... Oh, and next time's on me."

She - hastily, and clumsily - planted a kiss on his scruffy cheek and hurried outside, grabbing her jacket on the way out, her face burning red and her heart pounding.

Later that day, somewhere around midnight - as she was heading to bed, tired but pleased - her phone rang. It was Louise.

"Hey girl!" she heard her friend's chipper voice. "So, how was it?"

"It was... Alright." she said reservedly, not having the right words to describe her feelings - how she felt a connection and how Tommy was the first man in many months to make her blush and how he made her skin tingle.

"...just alright? I'm going to kick his ass."

"No! Fine, it was great. I like him, and I think... He likes me. And we'll see where it goes from here."

"That's better." Louise said with satisfaction. "Hit me or other girls up if he fucks something up though. We'll fix him up."

"Noted." she said, yawning quietly. "Sorry Lou, I feel like I'm about to pass out... I really need some sleep."

"Sleep tight! I'll tell the asshole he did well."

"Yeah, you do that. Night!"

The next morning she couldn't remember what she dreamed about, but she woke up with a smile on her face and her heart filled with a pleasant, soft warmth.

The next weeks were a long string of meetings and calls, mixed with occasional dates with Tommy. The initial chemistry she felt never faded away - he was still a delight to have around and he was still acting like her company's his favorite part of the day. They kept things as casual as possible, and slow - it took them ten dates and eleven weeks to actually talk about their plans for the future.

This time they decided to go for a walk in Gotham's most beautiful park - recently funded by a Cobblepot family, one of the cities oldest, most respected families. She never had a chance to see it and he claimed it's a must-see, especially during the sunset.

"So, I've been thinking..." he said as they were walking among the trees. "It's been some time. How do you feel about me?"

"What do you mean?" she asked carefully, admiring flowers planted next to the sidewalk.

"I very much enjoy our time together, Charlie." he said hesitantly, standing behind her as she crouched to take a closer look at a particularly eye-catching daffodil. "I think... I might be developing feelings for you."

She gasped quietly, as her heart - very literally - stopped beating for a moment and a sound of her own blood briefly filled her ears.

She absolutely, desperately wanted to hear him say that - but it was still almost shocking to hear. Almost surprising, even despite the way he looked at her.

It's been months since she divorced Harry, since she found out who he really is. Maybe it was time for her to give love another shot. Maybe Tommy - Thomas Elliot - was the right person. He was funny and nice and hotter than hell and always knew exactly what to say and she often found herself missing him. Maybe he was the right one for her.

She got up and turned around to face him and he was looking at her expectantly, hopefully, tenderly. He had his hands in his pockets and she absentmindedly reached out to take some pollen off the collar of his coat.

"The feeling's mutual." she said finally and she could see the relief in his eyes. "I... You make me feel something. And it's a good feeling. And I think... We should give relationship a shot."

"Can I kiss you?" he asked and instead of answering, she closed her eyes and leaned in, thanking herself for wearing heels that day; without them, she'd have to tiptoe to reach him.

The kiss felt right, it just felt right - and so did his hand on her back and another one in her hair.

"God, you're fun to kiss." he whispered eventually. "Why didn't I do it sooner?"

"Because you're a gentleman?" she suggested softly, her hands still on his arms. "I don't know."

He kissed her again, and again, and a few more times, before someone interrupted them - a visibly disgruntled, older couple, telling them to either get a room or stop being disgusting in public.

"They are probably right, you know." Charlie giggled as they walked away hastily, her fingers intertwined with Tommy's. "I want some ice cream."

"Everything for you, darling." he said nonchalantly. "Pick a stand. They're all good. I'd know. I've tested all of them."

"Are you an ice cream connoisseur?" she asked, trying to decide whether she wants sorbet or something with dairy or maybe something fancy.

"You could say that."

They got their ice cream and left; the sun had set and other people started to leave the park, only leaving silence and trash behind.

He walked her home that evening; and for a moment, for a brief moment, she considered inviting him upstairs, for some wine. They'd talk. She'd kiss him and he'd give in and they'd spend the night together; it'd be her first night with someone in long, long months.

But in the end, she ended up not inviting him. Instead, she planted a kiss on his cheek and he kissed the back of her hand, looking her in the eye, just like he did on their first date.

"See you around, darling." he said and one more time she considered kissing him properly - but she knew she wouldn't stop if she started.

(And as much as she wanted him, she also wanted to not scare him away.)

"See you." she said instead, turned around and entered the building, feeling like she's about to burst, or start singing and dancing, or both.

And that was the last time Charlie ever saw Tommy Elliot.

*** He didn't disappear without a trace, no. It was simply a matter of time - Crowne Continental Gotham's grand opening night was coming up and she was too busy with preparations. He understood - they still had texts and calls. She missed his lips and his warm embrace, but she kept telling herself that once everything is done and the hotel is officially open and the guests are gone she'll finally invite him over for dinner.

He actually called her twenty four hours before the party. She didn't feel as tense as she did during the last week; all the most important guests - the Waynes and the Cobblepots and the Kanes and the Hills and many, many other people - RSVPed already, confirming their presence. The catering was taken care of, and so were the decorations and even her parents told her to take a night off, to relax before her night.

(Of course, they were supposed to be there, as the original brand owners - but it was supposed to be her night.)

So, when her phone called she picked up without giving it a second thought.

"Hey honey." she said, closing her laptop.

"Are you free tonight?"

"I might be." she said flirtatiously. "Why?"

"Because I miss you, obviously. Also there's something we should... Talk about."

"Did something happen?"

"It's complicated. And I'd... Rather do it face to face."

She was worried for a moment, but he didn't sound sad or tense - so probably everything was fine.

"Alright. Where do you want me?"

"Aisha's?"

"I'll be there in thirty. See you!"

When she entered the - crowded, as usual - teashop she instantly spotted him, sitting at the same table as during their first meeting. He looked... Different.

His usually carelessly messy hair were slicked back and he was wearing a suit, instead of his usual, casual clothes. His sack-like trench coat was nowhere to be seen; and he looked damn good, but she was still a bit surprised by this change of image.

(He still had his bad boy charm to him though. He was still scruffy and he still had that scar she loved to kiss.)

"Hello, darling." he said, as she approached him. "You look beautiful."

"What's up with your clothes?" she asked, as he pulled out a chair for her.

"What, you don't like it?"

"You look... Different. It's not bad, just... Different."

"Serious clothes for a serious occasion." he said, ostensibly nonchalantly - but she could sense some gloom and seriousness in his tone.

It took them a while to get to the point, but eventually it happened. Tommy - a man she knew as Tommy, a man she started falling in love with, a man she fed ducks with, a man she wanted to introduce to her parents eventually - cleared his throat and she looked at him.

"Charlie." he said finally. "There's something... I need to apologize for."

(Hit me or other girls up if he fucks something up though. We'll fix him up.)

"What?" she asked calmly, nervously playing with a paper napkin, tearing it to shreds. "What happened?"

"I'm not Thomas Elliot. That is not my real name, my real identity."

His words echoed in her head, like a monastery bell in an empty hall. Her heart dropped and her vision became slightly blurry.

"Then who are you?" she asked finally. "And... Why have you been lying to me?"

"My real name... Is Oswald. Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot." he said calmly, looking at her apologetically and she laughed, shaking her head.

"That's impossible. I've met Oswald Cobblepot. He looks... Nothing like you."

"I'm not saying I'm the only Oswald Cobblepot in Gotham. No, the man you met - pale and short and polite to the bone - is my cousin. My father and his mother... Are twins. We're both heirs to the Cobblepot fortune." he said, weighting every word, not taking his eyes off her. "I asked him to not mention me. I told him... You don't know I exist."

"But why?" she asked faintly, suddenly realizing how tense the atmosphere in the teahouse was that afternoon. "Why were you lying to me?"

"Charlie, I assure you, this was the only lie I've ever told you. Everything I said... I meant it. Every word. And every kiss."

"But why?"

"I had my reasons. But... Does it change how you see me? Does it change your feelings for me?"

She took a sip of her drink, trying to think of a good answer. Tommy or Oswald, rich or not, heir to a fortune or an orphan - sitting in front of her was still a man she had feelings for. He was still the same person.

At least he admitted to his own lies.

"I'm not sure." she said finally. "Why admit to all of this now though?"

"Because..."

He reached out and brushed her free hand with his fingertips and she felt the familiar, electric tingling go through her body.

"Because I need your help." he said finally. "I need your help in killing someone."

"What?" she asked after what felt like a infinity, filled with surreal, palpable, thick silence. "What? What? What?"

"Your reaction is understandable." he said quietly, sorrowfully. "And I'm deeply, truly sorry for getting you tangled up in this mess. I swear it wasn't my idea."

"Is this a joke?" she uttered, not fully comprehending her situation. "T... Oswald. Is this a joke?"

"No. I am very serious, my darling."

"Don't call me that." she snapped at him and he winced and his eyes got darker. "What the fuck is going on, Oswald?"

"Do you want a long or a short version?"

"Doesn't matter. I'm not helping you."

"And yet you're still here." he said quietly, his eyes still on her and she almost felt uncomfortable under his piercing, burning gaze. "It's quite simple, really. I need you to move the main event to another part of the main wing. That's it."

"This is a joke." she stated suddenly, deciding to hold onto this possibility for as long as possible. "Right? This is just a fucked up joke. One that's going to almost ruin us, yes... But it's nothing that can't be fixed. Yes?"

"So you want proof. Fine. I can give you proof. Ever heard of the Penguin?"

Of couse she heard of him - who didn't? A mysterious, masked individual, who also happened to be world's most elusive and efficient assassin. Nobody ever saw his face and lived to tell the tale. Some said he was a demon; some said it was an inherited title; some said it was a series of very devoted impostors and that the original Penguin was long, long dead.

"I am the Penguin." Oswald Cobblepot said quietly. "Well, the current one at least. On my phone, I have a recording of me... Putting the mask on."

"How am I supposed to know it's not a replica?"

"Think about it, Charlie. Cobblepots are an old, very rich family... Our money didn't come out of nowhere. It all makes sense, you simply... Have to accept it."

"Accept it?" she repeated bitterly. "Accept what? That- that someone I loved had been lying to me for months? That a man I loved is actually a fucking hitman? That someone is trying to use me - again?"

"Darling..."

"Don't call me that!" she repeated, her heart breaking; she loved the way he said this word. It always made her feel at peace. "Please. Just... Don't."

"I am sorry." Oswald said and she covered her face with her hands to avoid looking at him. "I really, really am. Please... Charlie..."

"No." she said firmly, feeling... Almost empty.

(What she hated the most about this whole situation, was the fact it didn't feel half as bad as when she found out what was Harry really after. Harry kept lying till the very end; Oswald was being honest and open. It was fucked up.)

"I'm not going to help you kill anybody." she continued, her voice muffled by her hands. "What I am going to do though is to go straight to the police. Tell them everything."

"They're not going to believe you." he said quietly, his voice tense. "Nobody's going to believe you."

"Well, somebody's going to believe me."

He didn't say anything and she slowly moved her hands away from her face to look at him.

He wasn't looking at her anymore; his gaze was stuck on his own hands, lying on the surface of their table. He looked sad, really, genuinely sad. Resigned.

"What now?" she asked finally, feeling waves of inert calmness washing over her. "You just confessed to being the Penguin and I refused to help. What now?"

"What are you suggesting, d... Charlie?"

"Are you going to kill me?"

"I'd rather take my own life here and now than hurt you." he said quietly and oddly tenderly. "No, I'm not going to kill you. But I can't just let you go either. Not until you agree."

"But I'm not going to agree to anything!"

"But you have to, Charlie. You have to. Please." he pleaded. "I am not going to hurt anybody. But people I work for..."

"People you work for?!"

"People I work for... They don't have my morals, Charlie. They don't follow my don't touch the innocent principle. And they know you. And your family."

She felt the ice cold grip of fear tighten around her throat.

"What?" she asked slowly. "No..."

"Please." he pleaded. "Help me and I will get you out of this mess. They won't go after you if you help me. That'll give me a chance to fix everything. I give you my word."

"Your word is worthless, Oswald." she said impassively, feeling like someone dumped her insides in gasoline mixed with salt and sulfur. "It means nothing. You lied to me - fine. I'd accept it as some dumb test, to see if I like you or your name. I'd accept it. I'd move on. But this... No, Oswald. No."

She felt like she's about to pass out. She looked at him, trying to keep calm.

"Excuse me for a moment." she said, getting up. "I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back."

"You do that." he said quietly and she turned around and walked away. She knew he's following her with his eyes; and she knew there's no window in the ladies room. No escape routes. The only way out was either through the main door, or through the back door, accessible through the kitchen - both of them visible from where he was seated.

She felt trapped and terrified and sad and heartbroken and empty and oh god, she felt so many, many things at once, colliding, overflowing, confusing.

She stood by the sink, staring at her own reflection, her face a picture of shock and heartbreak and fear. She saw the drops of water stuck in her lashes. She remembered Tommy - Oswald, she firmly corrected herself - saying he'd kiss each and every of her freckles if he had a chance. She remembered looking at him and thinking they were shaped for each other.

All gone now, replaced with this bizarre knowledge of her partner being a hitman in need of her help.

(It wasn't all gone, but she muffled it, repressed it, hid it, locked it away. It didn't matter anymore anyway.)

As she was walking back to their table, a faint outline of a plan formed in her head. First she had to get away. Then... She'd figure something out, she was sure of it.

As she was right next to their table and as he was looking up, she grabbed a glass from the nearby table and smashed it on his head, spilling orange juice everywhere. Before anyone reacted, she turned around and ran out of the teahouse, frantically reaching for her phone. The battery was dead - because of course. She had a spare in her apartment; and she decided there's no time to try going to the police. She had to call her parents, she had to warn them. She had to get away. Figure something out. Figure out who on her guest list is Penguin's target. Warn them.

(She remembered his eyes when he first told her he's developing feelings for her. She remembered every kiss, every word. Was it all a lie? A ploy? A manipulation tactic? She hoped so. It would make hating Oswald Cobblepot so much easier.)

She got in the nearest cab, slamming the door behind her. The driver looked at her in the rear mirror; he looked amused. The plaque attached to vehicle's radio announced his name is Brian Thomas.

"Bad day?" he asked, as she nervously gave him her destination and asked him to be fast.

"The worst." she replied, rubbing her forehead with her palm; everything she felt was gone, replaced with weariness. She wanted to fall asleep and never wake up. "What's the absolute worst date you've ever been to?"

"He didn't show up." Brian replied casually and Charlie sighed, wishing this could be her problem as well. A simple case of being stood up; not... Whatever the hell was this.

"I can take you to a police station if your date tried something funny." the driver suggested, and she shook her head quietly, looking outside the window. They were passing soon to be opened hotel building; the sight of it sent a shiver down her spine.

"It's not like this." she said eventually. "He just made me... Uncomfortable. And now I just need some wine and a bath."

"Suit yourself. We're here. Hey, beautiful stranger." he said suddenly, as she was reaching for her wallet. "Can I get your number?"

"I'm sorry, Brian." she said tiredly, handing him a wad of cash; a tip to be remembered. "I'm sure you're a very sweet guy, but for now I don't think I'm in mood for anything. Maybe next time."

"Here's to hoping our paths cross again." he said cheerfully as she got out and closed the doors behind her.

She practically ran inside the building, not looking back at Brian, who only took off after the doors closed behind her.

"Good evening, miss!" the receptionist greeted her cheerfully as she hurriedly approaced the counter.

"Leslie, I need a huge, huge favor. There might be someone looking for me here anytime soon." she said quickly, looking at the attentive young woman. "Please don't let them in. Tell them I'm not here. Anything. I know you'll think of something."

"Naturally, miss. Should I call the police?"

"No!" she said with exasperation. "Please. No police. I have this under control."

"Take care, miss." Leslie said as she was disappearing inside the elevator.

She forgot where exactly she put her spare phone and it took her about fifteen minutes to find it, and then - with her fingers shaking - another five to take her SIM card out of her dead phone and put it into the charged one. She stared at her contact list, frantically trying to decide who to call first. She didn't have time to call every single person from her guest list, but she knew the victim is there. Was it Bruce Wayne? Was it Harvey Dent? Was it one of the Kanes?

For a brief moment she considered calling Louise, but quickly abandoned the idea. Louise was not to be trusted anymore. After all, it was her who set her up with "Tommy" - and other girls weren't much better either, considering "Tommy" was also their friend. Maybe they also worked for the same people as he did.

She decided to call her father first. His calm demeanor always helped her focus and she knew he'll think of something. Make everything right.

But neither her father nor her mother picked up. They were probably busy, or asleep; and they weren't picking up.

She spent the next few minutes sitting in the middle of her spacious living room, crying out of frustration.

As she was getting up - she wanted to go to her bedroom and get her handgun, just in case - someone's strong arm suddenly wrapped around her, tighthly pressing her arms to her torso. Someone's gloved hand covered her mouth, as she began to scream.

"Please don't scream." Oswald Cobblepot whispered into her ear, holding her tight. "I only want to talk. Please."

"Mmmhmmhmff!" she gurgled angrily, aggresively trying to stomp his foot; but it wasn't very effective, considering she took her killer heels off as soon as she entered her flat. Oswald sighed.

"Please don't make me tie you up, Charlie." he said tiredly, still holding her.

(She hated and despised the fact fear didn't come first. What came first was... Definitely not fear.)

"I'm now going to take my hand off your mouth and you are going to not scream bloody murder. Deal?"

She shook her head furiously and he sighed again and rested his chin on her head.

"I'm going to do it anyway." he muttered eventually and did as he promised; she was free to speak, but he still hadn't let go of her. "Oh. You're not screaming. That's nice."

"Let go off me." she said quietly, writhing in his iron grip. "How did you get in anyway?!"

"The back door." he said tiredly, letting her to much to her surprise. "And then the stairs. Your receptionist's unharmed and unaware."

"What now, Oswald?" she asked, deciding to put all of her eggs in one basket. "You have me. What now?"

"I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. I want to talk some sense into you."

"SENSE?!" she practically exploded. "Sense?!"

"Charlie..."

She was facing him and she punched him in the chest and he didn't even budge, looking at her with his tired, tired eyes. His hair were a familiar mess again and he almost looked like that man she had ten dates with.

(She still had to warn her parents. She still had to figure out who's the target.)

She turned around and ran into her bedroom and he followed her, not letting her lock the door behind.

"Charlie, please." he said as she groaned with frustration. "What do you want me to do, get down on my knees?"

"The chance to explain yourself was about five dates ago, Oswald!" she said frantically, as he came closer.

Her fingers finally found her gun and she pulled it out triumphantly. The gun was loaded, and she pointed it at Oswald, her hand shaking. "Don't... Don't come closer."

"You know what? Fine." he said, running his fingers through his hair, looking her in the eye. "I'm tired, Charlie. Shoot me if you want to. I probably deserve it."

He did drop down on his knees and looked up at the gun she was holding in her shaking, shaking hand.

"What are you doing?" she asked frantically, as he gently took her hand and guided it, until the gun was touching his forehead.

"Pull the trigger if you want to." he repeated tiredly. "Let's make a deal though: if you can kill me, fine. Have it your way. No one else will die and this will be the end of this Penguin. Someone else will take the mask. But if you can't... You will hear me out."

She was looking at him, her body trembling, her eyes wide open, her heart pounding, her breaths short and shaky. Could she do it? Would she do it?

(Harry came back to mind. How adamant he was in his lies, how his lies turned into threats. It was her parents who saved her that day.)

"I can't do this." she said eventually, her eyes filled with tears. "I... I can't. I can't kill you."

"Why?" he asked quietly, his eyes closed. "What's stopping you?"

(The way he looked at her, the way he kissed her, the way he laughed at her terrible jokes.)

"You said... You meant everything you said to me as Tommy." she said eventually. "Is that true?"

"It's painfully true, Charlie."

"What was first - me or the job?"

"You." he replied instantly, his eyes still closed. "You were first. If it depended on me... I wouldn't get you mixed up in all of this."

"Then why did you get me involved? Me and my family?"

"Because the person who ordered a hit had some very... Strict preferences. And people I'm currently working for... They are perfectionists. Everything has to go in accordance to our client's preference, otherwise... Otherwise someone close to me will pay the price for my mistakes."

He finally opened his eyes and looked at her and she felt her heart almost melt.

"So please, Charlie." he continued quietly, gently taking her hand away and the touch of cold leather on her skin made her almost drop her loaded gun. "Help me with this one thing. Help me keep you safe. And I.... I will take care of the rest."

(His words were a promise of a bloodbath and she hated the fact she believed in his promises of safety.)

"Fine." she said finally, putting the gun away. "Fine. Have it your way."

"Do you hate me now?" he asked, getting up and putting his gloved hand on her arm. "Please. I need to know."

"I'd love to." she blurted out. "I'm trying to. But I can't. I just... Can't."

"I'll make it up to you, somehow. I can... Disappear from your life forever, once this is all done."

"Just tell me what do you want from me." she said tiredly, rubbing her eyes with her hand. "Don't give me any details, just... Tell me."

"I only need you to move this thing to another part of the main wing, that's all. Move it to the Scarlet Lounge."

Her phone was ringing in another room. Her parents, probably.

"Who's the target?" she asked finally and Oswald sighed.

"Hamilton Hill."

"He has a family, Oswald."

"Who do you think ordered the hit?" he asked quietly. "Have you met his daughter?"

Of course she met Hamilton's daughter. Her name was Skyler, she was few years younger than her and was beautiful like a sunset and sharp like a razor. She was a brilliant young woman, on her way to becoming one of Gotham's best lawyers.

"She has her reasons. Very good reasons. Have you ever thought about what kinds of people Penguin kills? Corrupt politicians, abusers hiding behind their public faces."

"You're going to ruin my family's good name." Charlie muttered, once again feeling like she's about to pass out. "This is going to be a disaster."

"Skyler had the same concerns, that's why she insisted on not making it look like an accident. She's a thoughtful girl."

"Fine. Fine. Fine. I'll do it." she finally gave up, putting the gun away. "Oswald..."

"Yes?"

"Don't disappear from my life." she blurted out. "I... I don't know how I feel about you anymore, but please, don't disappear."

"I won't." he said softly. "Do you want me to go now?"

"Fuck, I don't know. I feel like an idiot now. I don't know."

"You're not an idiot, Charlie. You're an opposite of an idiot. You think on your feet, and you stalled me for hours. And I'm a professional hitman... Who might or might not be slightly blinded by his feelings."

"That's not a compliment a girl wants to hear, you know."

"And what do you want me to say? That you're beautiful? And distracting? And charming?"

"...for example, yes." she muttered and he smiled faintly.

"I can tell you a lot of sweet nothings and compliments, Charlie. But I'd rather do it over dinner and some wine."

"Are you... Asking me out?" she asked slowly. "After... All of this? You're asking me out?"

"Yes. I... I already made a reservation." he confessed and she smiled nervously. "At Lafontaine's. Two days after tomorrow."

"Fine." she said eventually and his face lit up. "I'll be there. Now... Can you please go? I have some... Calls to make."

She almost stopped him from leaving, actually. She almost kissed him and almost put his gloves off and put his hands on her back. She was feeling tired and yearned for physical touch, now that she knew what was really going on.

(Don't make me tie you up, Charlie.)

But instead, she saw him leave, closing the door behind him. She sighed. She rubbed her forehead, wondering where did all her emotions go suddenly.

(She never liked Hamilton Hill. He was a Republican, and a really far-right one. She knew his stances on various social issues; and sure, he was courteous and polite during their rare meetings, but he was still a disgusting man. And she wondered what exactly prompted his own daughter to order a hit on him. What was happening behind the closed doors of the Hill family?)

*** Hamilton Hill died at her party.

Everything was splending - nobody minded the fact everything was moved to another place, which she excused with some unforeseen technical difficulties that were previously overlooked. People hired to help were paid triple for the fact they suddenly had to move everything to another part of the main wing. Everything was great and her parents were so, so proud of her. She kept looking around, searching for Oswald - her Oswald, not his polite, short cousin - but naturally he was nowhere to be seen.

(She did some reading and apparently the son of Esther and Theodore had been absent from Gotham for a few months now. She kept wondering why exactly is he living a double life.)

"Charlotte!" she heard his cousin's voice behind her and she turned around to face the smiling, young man in a tux. "What a lovely night."

The shorter Cobblepot leaned in.

"I have a gift from my cousin." he whispered into her ear, sliding something into her palm. "He says... Thank you."

"Thank you, Oswald." she said calmly, hiding a small box inside her purse. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, very. Your mother is absolutely incredible. Such grace!"

"I'm very glad to hear it." she said, glancing at the Hills over Oswald's shoulder. They looked peaceful, calm, happy. Skyler noticed her gaze and slightly nodded in her direction, quickly turning her attention back to her mother.

The Scarlet Lounge had a better view on the city, than the Golden Hall - one of it's walls was made entirely out of glass. Charlie could see almost everything from where she was standing - the stars, the river, the Wayne Tower, the mayor's office.

Hamilton Hill was standing there, alone, with a glass of champagne, staring at a city that wanted him dead.

She approached him with a glass of wine, wondering if everything had been just a bad dream. Nothing had happened so far; maybe Skyler called off the hit? Maybe it really was just her imagination?

"It's a beautiful night in Gotham, isn't it?" Hamilton said, not looking at her. "From here, it all looks so peaceful... So right."

"I have to admit, I'm growing quite fond of this city." she admitted, taking a sip of her wine. "It looks and sounds like chaos, but there is beauty in its pulse."

"It's a shame it's been infected with so much scum." he muttered and she rolled her eyes. "Bah. Life's so short. I wish I had more time to help this city shape itself into something truly beautiful, you know? I wish I had more time."

"Can't do, Hill." she suddenly heard a raspy, artificially modified voice behind them. They both quickly turned around - only to face the Penguin himself, to stare into his mask's black, lifeless eyes.

She had no idea how he got there unnoticed, but he did - and now the others were noticing something's going on.

"All debts must be paid, Hill." Penguin said calmly, completely ignoring mortified Charlie standing next to the politician. "And your debt is long overdue."

He pulled out a gun, and she scoffed at the sight of it. Of course he was using a silenced AMT Hardballer. He pointed his gun at Hamilton's face and everyone in the room froze in place.

"Turn around, Hill." Penguin ordered quietly and Hill mindlessly obeyed.

The hitman turned his head and looked at Charlie.

"You might want to take few steps back." he informed her in a polite, casual tone of voice. "So sorry to ruin your party like this... But you know how it is. Work is work."

Charlie slowly stepped back, unable to take her eyes off Hill's mortified profile. Penguin put his gun to mayor's head.

"Take a good look at this city, mayor. Take a good look at everything you almost ruined. And now... Goodbye."

He pulled a trigger and someone in the room screamed when Hamilton Hill's blood splattered on the glass in front of him.

Penguin slipped away in the ensuing chaos, and Charlie somehow ended up next to exceptionally calm Skyler, who was staring at her father's corpse the way someone else would look at a broken pen.

"I know what you did." Skyler said quietly, so quietly only Charlie could hear her. "Thank you."

"Things we do for love." Charlie replied equally quietly, glancing at Skyler. "Why did you do it?"

"I didn't do anything."

"I hope you won't regret this, Skyler."

"Oh, trust me. I won't. This is a childhood dream come true."

The tone of her voice told Charlie everything she needed to know about what was going on behind the closed doors of the Hill family.

When the police arrived - lead by a very disgruntled (who could blame him? Gotham's mayor just got murdered on his watch) Jim Gordon, accompanied with visibly stressed out Harvey Dent - Charlie came off clean. Her story about an overlooked technical problem in the Golden Hall miraculously turned out to be true; they found some issues with the water pipes. Nobody questioned Penguin's interaction with her - the elusive assassin was well-known for being a gentleman towards people who were not his targets.

"That's one hell of an opening night." her father muttered, downing a glass of whiskey and her mother sighed and shook her head.

"Nobody could foresee this." she said sadly. "Usually political assassinations are not on a list of possible problems."

"Bah! Political my ass." her father scoffed and Charlie turned her head away to hide her smile. "Democrats don't have what it takes to order a hit on anyone. Bunch of weenies."

(In his youth, Crispin Schiller-Aberdeen used to be an antifa activist. With age - and marriage - he softened down a bit; but it was a well known fact he sometimes still bails out anarchists and other young antifas out of prison.)

"A man is dead, Crispin." Eleanor said coldly, rolling her eyes and taking her husband's hand. "No more whiskey for you tonight, darling."

Louise showed up, tapping Charlie's shoulder.

"Charlie? A word." she said to her, and briefly turned her attention to Charlie's parents. "Louise McDonagh, assistant district attorney. Pleased to meet you. My superior needs to talk to your daughter."

She grabbed Charlie's hand and pulled her away.

"Does Dent really want to talk to me?" Charlie asked finally, after making sure nobody can hear them. Louise shook her head.

"No, but I do. I guess... I should apologize."

"Yes." Charlie said coldly. "You should. You could have warned me."

"There's no good way to warn anyone of something like this, you know. What was I supposed to say?"

"The truth!"

"Look, I'm sorry! Okay? I'm sorry! I'm really, really sorry! I didn't know he's going to get this job! If I knew, I'd tell him to stay the fuck away from you!"

"This is all I wanted to hear, you know." Charlie sighed, awkwardly putting her hand on Louise's shoulder. "Look. I'm... Fine. I think my reputation's fine as well. A bit of a shocker... It might be a good advertisement."

"This is the most fucked up think I've heard this year. How is mayor's death a good advertisement?!"

"You know how people are."

"Fuck. You're right. Uh-oh." she muttered, glancing at her phone. "Turns out Harvey does want to speak to you. And he's... Not happy. Fuck."

"You can't expect him to be happy, considering what happened tonight. But don't worry, I'm sure his boyfriend will cheer him up." she said with a smirk and Louise snorted quietly.

*** Only after finally getting home - which happened after the dusk - Charlie opened a gift from her Oswald.

It was pearls; he gave her a pair of pearl earrings, and matching necklace and a bracelet. Attached to the bracelet was a note.

Once again - so sorry for ruining your night, darling.

She smiled faintly to herself, wondering what's going to happen between her and Cobblepot next. She was still shocked by his identity - she never expected her date to turn out to be a fucking Penguin - but she also felt... Excited. She felt a pleasant thrill.

(At least he was honest. And she appreciated this honesty more than she cared to admit. The man who kissed her was a killer.)

She wondered what's going to happen next, now that he abandonded his Tommy Elliot persona. Did it mean they're going to become something serious?

(She hoped so.)

Finally, their date night had arrived. He asked her to meet him at 6pm; and he even sent out a limousine to pick her up. It seemed like he's very determined to make their affair public - and she didn't mind.

Lafontaine's was one of the best restaurants in America, and the best one in Gotham. Some people waited for their reservations for literal years; but it seemed like all it took to get in was to have the right name. Like Cobblepot, for example.

Mere moments after she stepped inside Lafontaine's luxurious hall, she was approached by a chipper maître d' with a spring in her step.

"Miss Charlotte Schiller-Aberdeen, I presume?" the woman asked politely, and Charlie winced slightly, hearing the disliked full version of her name.

"Yes. This is me."

"Mister Cobblepot is awaiting you. Please, follow me."

Their table was in the middle of the well-lit room. She could hear smooth jazz playing quietly in the background, mixed with a quiet shimmer of the water from the nearby decorative fountain.

"Charlie, you look simply breathtaking." Oswald said as soon as he noticed her, tapping his finger on the surface of their table and getting up. "And those pearls... Look very familiar."

"Same can be said about your hair and cologne, Oswald."

"Ah, so it's working. Good." he said with a wink. "I have to be honest... I was half expecting you to cancel."

"It can still be arranged, you know."

"Don't." he said softly and she smiled, glancing at her hands. "How is... The aftermath?"

"Everything's under control... On my side of the bargain." she replied quietly. "And on your end?"

"I took care of everything." he said very seriously. "Just like I promised I would."

(She wondered how many people had died because of her. She wondered if he was covered in their blood.)

"So." he said in a more upbeat tone, "Let's switch to more pleasant topics. Such as all the compliments I owe you."

He looked at her tenderly and she tilted her head, wondering what happened to that almost broken man who put her gun to his head and told her to kill him if she wants to.

"Go on." she said eventually. "Just... Not all at once. Save some for later."

"Oh? Are you implying... There will be more?"

"Of course." she said softly, brushing his hand with her fingertips. "I still stand by everything I said, you know."

They spent a nice evening with wine and truffles and other fancy food. They talked; she told him about her divorce and in return he told her about his last ugly breakup. She almost forgot he's an assassin. She almost forgot she almost killed him.

(They didn't know they parents are in the same restaurant. It turned out Crispin and Esther used to be friends during their rebellious youths. They decided to have a double married date; and now were sitting not too far from their children, who were too busy with each other to notice their parents.

"Reminds me of our first date..." Esther sighed, looking fondly at the way her son brushed Charlie's hair away from her face. "We raised our boy well."

"You better." Crispin grumbled and Esther and Eleanor laughed in response. "He better be good for my girl."

"He's my son, Crispin. Of course he'll be good... Or I'll whoop his ass." Esther said archly. "But what about your child?"

"Oh, Charlie used to be a little hearbreaker!" Eleanor giggled. "But I think this is serious for both of them."

"Mmmmhmmm." Theodore said absentmindedly, watching his son. "I'd recognize those pearls everywhere."

"Let's give them some space though." Crispin suggested, taking his eyes off Oswald's face. "Now, let's drink to a bright future...")

He walked her home that night.

"Do you want to... Stay the night?" she asked hesitantly, as they were quietly standing in front of the entrance to her building.

"I don't know." he replied nonchalantly, brushing her palm with his gloved fingers. "Do you want me to stay the night?"

"Yes." she said almost instantly and he smirked. "You're not going to kill me, right?"

"We've been through this already."

"I just want to be sure."

"My father and his sister were also Penguins, you know." Oswald said quietly. "And look at their spouses now. Alive and well. And I assure you... Mom and uncle had both been in this exact same situation."

He brushed her hand with his lips, looking her in the eye, sending electric shivers down her spine.

"I won't hurt you, unless you want me to." he assured her with a wink. "So?"

"Stay the night." she said breathlessly, thanking herself from few hours ago for putting on some nice, lace lingerie.

They entered the building hand in hand, saying good evening to Leslie.

"Miss!" she called out to Charlie. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, Leslie, why do you ask?"

"Well, last time I saw you you acted like you're running from someone..." Leslie said, visibly abashed and Charlie smiled.

"Everything's fine, Leslie. Your concern is very touching though. Have a good night."

"Yes, Leslie, have a good night!" Oswald repeated, nodding vigorously and winking at Leslie, who gasped when she realized who's that standing next to Charlie.

"She's going to tell everyone." Charlie muttered in the elevator, between kisses.

"Do you mind other people knowing? About us?"

"No, but I don't want any pesky journalists digging into my life."

She gasped when his hand crawled under her dress.

"I'll take care of them." he promised in a raspy voice and she sighed, wondering if he's going to bribe them or kill them. "Now hush. They're not important."

He made her forget about everything, for a night - the journalists, Hamilton Hill, her gun put to his head, her doubts. He made her forget her own damn name. All that mattered was his presence intertwined with hers, their breaths tangled together, his skin and her skin, her voice and his kisses.

He was still there when she woke up; he was asleep next to her and in that one moment, Charlie couldn't decide which of the three men - Oswald, Tommy and Penguin - is lying in her bed.

She decided she doesn't care. She loved him anyway; and something told her the feeling's mutual.

*** One week later Oswald Cobblepot was in Perth, Australia. He was visiting an old friend - of sorts. It was not going to be a friendly visit.

The man he was looking for went by many names, but he only cared about two of them - Harold Spencer and Alexander Krill. They worked together a few times years ago, but then went their separate ways - and Oswald hadn't really thought of his old coworker, until he learned what happened between Charlie Schiller-Aberdeen and her ex-husband; a con-artist, who first wanted to simply steal her fortune and run away, but - after being found out - attempted to kill her in cold blood. Charlie was saved by her parents's surprise visit; and she wasn't aware Oswald Cobblepot knew Harry.

Or Alex. Depends on who you ask.

He knew there are better ways to steal a girl's heart than to kill her ex husband who used her. He gave her pearls. He complimented her. Took her out on fancy dates, made her writhe under his touch. He was good at this game and he knew that - even despite a rocky beginning - his relationship with Charlie is secure.

Still, he felt like killing Alexander is just... A right thing to do.

(He considered calling it "one last job" - he knew his cousin has his eyes on the mantle of the Penguin. Maybe it was high time for him to step back and to live the way rich playboy should; no assassinations, just champagne, fancy clothes and his beautiful darling at his side. Yeah. It felt and sounded right.)

So there he was in Perth, where Krill had holed up, probably planning his next big scam. He was hiding in a crappy apartment complex - even though Oz was well aware his old co-worker can afford something luxurious.

He put his mask on. He fixed his tie. He knocked; he very much enjoyed the peculiar sound of a hand covered with a glove made out of expensive, high quality leather knocking on a cheap wooden surface.

Krill opened the doors after a while and he wasn't happy to see Oswald.

"Fuck, Penguin?" he asked, visibly disgruntled. "What do you want?"

"To talk. Let me in."

"Alright, but make it quick." Krill said, turning around and coming back to his shitty living room. "I have stuff to do."

"No, you don't." Penguin replied calmly, reaching for his gun. "And to be honest... You're not going to be doing a lot of things ever again, Alexander."

"What?" Alex asked with annoyance, turned around and froze at the sight of Oswald's gun. "Dude. What the fuck?!"

"One last shitty joke, before we part ways forever, partner." Penguin sad, tilting his head to the side. "Do you know what penguins eat?"

"N-no!" Alexander replied, his face a picture of pure fear. "What do you want from me?!"

"Penguins - among other things - eat krill." Oswald replied calmly. "Say aaaa."

Alexander Krill opened his mouth to scream and Penguin pulled the trigger.

The bullet was faster than his voice.

*** "How was your trip?" Charlie asked him a few days later, once he was back in Gotham and he dropped by to pay her a visit in her office. The business was booming, it seemed - Crowne Continental Gotham was filled with guests. It seemed like a recent death of the mayor that took place in the same building didn't discourage anyone.

"Perfectly uneventful." he said, deciding on not telling her the true purpose of his sudden trip to another continent. "My parents are hosting some fundraiser at out park in two weeks. Care to come as my plus one?"

"Does it mean you want to introduce me to your family?"

"Well, my cousin already knows you, and you met his parents... But I guess this might be a good time to tell my parents to stop trying to hook me up with Kate Kane." he said with a smirk and she giggled.

"Really? They tried that?"

"A lot of times."

"Well, I don't have any plans, so count me in." she said after taking a look at her schedule and he smiled lightly at the way afternoon light played with her red hair.

He noticed a small drop of dried up blood on his shoe; probably Krill's. But it didn't matter.

"I missed you." Charlie said suddenly. "Come on. Kiss me."

They kissed in her office at the top floor of Crowne Continental and he had blood on his hands and she still hadn't decided who does she really love; but none of this mattered. The Penguin gave up his title and all was good in Gotham City.

(In the other part of the town, Skyler Hill was watching the sunset with her mother. They were both dressed up in black. They were both relaxed and happiest they've been in many, many years. There were no regrets in the Hill Mansion. There were no regrets to be found anywhere in Gotham.)

#dc #telltale batman #ff #eng #oc #pinnguin

14 notes · View notes

meepface · 7 years

Text

i am feelin talkative but everyone is busy please ignore me !

have you ever received a hickey from the last person you kissed?

yes the ones on my boobs just finally went away the other day

what are you doing right now?

just sitting in bed waiting for my dad to get home from work so my family n i can go out to eat!! we’re goin to a new restaurant downtown and im excited

what time did you wake up this morning?

i was supposed to be up at 7 but i got up at 8:25

when was the last time you cried really hard?

i cried a lil last night and a lil sunday but i think the last time i cried really hard was saturday night

think of your last kiss, was it good?

it was good. it was a quick lil peck but my first real kiss was great bc we made out for like almost two hours and then went to chili’s

have you held hands with somebody in the past three days?

yes

have you ever held hands with the same sex?

yes

if the year consisted of only one season, which would you choose?

fall

what’s bothering you right now?

i burnt my tongue on soup last night so that is a lil annoying

what were you doing at eleven last night?

texting my gf and doin some hw for my stats class

what was the last thing you drank?

water

are you wearing anything you borrowed from someone?

yeah my gf let me borrow her jacket and im wearing it bc it smells like her

have you ever kissed the last person you text messaged?

what side of a heart do you draw first?

right side

is there someone you will never forget?

yes

is there someone you don’t ever want to be out of your life?

yes there’s a few i wanna keep around for the long haul

this time last year, were you single?

do you listen to music when you’re down?

usually yeah i listen to kinda mellow calm stuff. obstacles by syd matters is a go to

what is your mom saved as in your phone?

mothership 👽

when’s your birthday?

april 8

can a relationship last without honesty?

absolutely not

do you curse in front of your parents?

yeah but not like all the time

are you short?

nah i am a long

did you have any unread text messages this morning when you woke up?

i had 8

which shoe do you put on first?

whichever one i grab first ??

do you wish things were better?

definitely but things are a little better than they have been lately so i’ll take what i can get

what are your plans for friday?

today’s friday n i took a test and then visited my gf at work and took the rest of the day off. gonna get dinner w my family later

saturday?

tomorrow my gf and i are spendin the whole entire day together and im so excited. im hopefully takin her to a cute lil candy shop n then to my house n to KFC and then hopefully we’ll also have time to chill alone together n make out n stuff for a few hours

anything going on this week?

uhh not really probably gonna try to hang out with my friends some though

do you find it hard to trust others?

yes lately. i used to trust waaay too easily and it’s taken me some time to learn i can’t trust everyone

are you a patient person?

extremely

do you laugh a lot?

depending on who i’m with but usually yeah

what does the last text message in your inbox say?

"did you make it home?”

do you know anyone with the same birthday as you?

matty healy n also my good ol internet friend nikia

what color shirt are you wearing?

black

what color are your pants/shorts?

grey

plan on getting married?

i don’t care personally but if my partner wants it then yes

do you believe that love lasts forever?

i don’t know honestly but i hope so

do you believe everyone needs a second chance?

not everybody

be honest, do you like people in general?

yeah i think people are generally good

do you want your tongue pierced?

not at all

do you always answer your phone?

usually i don’t

what woke you up this morning?

my alarm. and then i set it for 30 more mins and went back to sleep and then for 15 more mins and then 15 more mins and then 10 more and then 5 more and then 2 more. i’m one of those people

what is a difference between the last two people you kissed?

i have only kissed one person but i got close to kissin a boy n the only difference between my ex bf and my current gf was that i was repulsed by the idea of kissin the bf and was so eager to kiss my gf

what were you doing at 8:00 this morning?

sleepin even though i should’ve gotten up at 7

do you say “sexy” a lot?

no saying that word makes me cringe a lil

ever made out in a pool?

no my gf can’t swim and i am not good enough of a swimmer to save her

do you like to have long hair or short hair?

i like my hair short bc it’s easier to deal with but lately i’ve missed it long it looked nice sometimes so imma grow it out

where do you keep your money?

my wallet or in various places throughout my room

what was the weather like today?

way too hot it’s like 104f outside rn

do you want to cut your hair?

nope as i said i think im gonna grow it out again

do you like sushi?

not at all

are you over the age of 25?

do you have a nickname?

yeah some internet friends call me elly and this girl i sorta had a thing with used to call me el so now our mutual friends call me that too. also a lot of my friends either call me mom or dad

do you change your phone background a lot?

not a lot but i just changed it yesterday

would you get back with your last ex if you could?

not at allllll, he cheated on me and he’s ugly anyway

do you still talk to the person you had your first kiss with?

yes we are dating currently and she just texted me while i was typing this

have you ever made someone so mad that they broke something?

yes lol,.,

how long does it take you to get ready to go out?

uhh like 45 mins if i’m trying, 15-20 if im not

#like if ya read #i appreciate validation #long post #about me

6 notes · View notes

diniidjarin · 7 years

Text

that reaper roomba au, part 1

i said i would do it and i am doing it, have the kinda angsty pre-crack bit of exposition and probably terribly ooc interactions

words: 1915, rating: gen, cw for implied body horror and a minor mention of substance abuse, set roughly a year or two after the Recall.

He recognizes the monkey. The ape had no place in the world. It lived in an old watchpoint, doing nothing in particular, sighing for a time when it meant something to be a hero.

The Reaper only sees an enemy. It confronted Winston once, to steal the data the ape had kept and collected over the years. Every Overwatch agent, and persons of interest. He can barely recall the mission. He wasn’t punished, so it probably ended in at least a partial success. He is rarely conscious of his actions, these days. He remembers what he did, sometimes. They’re ugly visions of violence, fueled by old rage he doesn’t really understand unless he feels it.

He fires his shotguns, the pain of the kickback barely registering after so many years. Reaper snarls.

stop drifting we have a mission

He snaps to attention. He has an objective. Sombra was intercepted by the guerrilla cell calling itself Overwatch. Funny, that name used to mean something. There are three Talon agents infiltrating the base, looking for the hacker. He is the diversion, engaging as many agents as possible. He doesn’t have orders to kill, not explicit ones anyway. The Reaper is bloodthirsty nonetheless.

They dissolve into smoke a split second before a rocket missile explodes where they stood. He laughs. It’s not his instinct to avoid projectiles, not anymore.

A shot rings out, and Pharah cries - Widowmaker is in position. One of the jet propulsors putters out and explodes on the ex-security chief’s back. She shouts for support as she tries to break the fall with the remaining engine, but she collapses in a heap on an outcropping of the cliff. She hangs on for a tense second, and topples off the narrow shelf, crashing gracelessly not twenty feet away from Reaper.

He approaches. Pharah’s helmet slides off her head, revealing a handsome face with a familiar tattoo. Half her face is drenched in blood and she looks up at him, dazed. He tilts his head.

“Amari,” he says, and it comes out as a snarl. He hates his voice. He hates… Amari?

sniper enemy traitor selfish selfish dead selfish amari enemy enemy enemy always takes his side -

He levels one of his guns at her, ready to pull the trigger, but suddenly golden light blinds him.

“Stay away!” someone shouts, and there she is, the child prodigy, the brilliant doctor, her staff aimed at Pharah - Wait, that’s the wrong eye! - she’s made improvements to the healing technology, he can see the gash on Pharah’s brow closing. Amari, That must be Fareeha, when did she grow so much?, she stands up and clenches her fists, but it’s not her that clocks him in the head, making him spin.

Angela Ziegler has fury written on her face as she unholsters a dinky pistol from her hip and empties a whole clip into him. He falls apart into smoke after the first three catch him in the shoulder, chest, and the mask, but she pursues him as he tries to ghost away. Winston is bellowing from afar, sprinting on all fours to shield his teammates from sniper fire. Mercy drops her weapon when the clip runs out, and as he regains physical form, the foot of her staff smashes into the owl skull protecting his head - once - twice - Ziegler twirls the Caduceus and smashes the functional end into his chin from below.

He sees stars. He’s forgotten how colorful they are.

too bright too much disgusting vile poison get away get away

Something in his chest is knocked free and he gasps. He’s breathing. The mask is gone and there’s the chilly evening breeze on his face. Ziegler screams. An unholy shriek answers her, and he’s heard that noise before, once. It latched onto his bones and hasn’t let go for seven years.

The night sky rushes to swallow him.

***

He comes to in a bed. A familiar scent surrounds him, but it takes a while to register. This is what a medbay smells like. He breathes in - breathes out - he hasn’t thought about breathing in so long - breathes in - he hasn’t breathed in so long -

“Gabriel?”

He’s hyperventilating, he’s dimly aware of it, and he fights through his body’s responses, trying hard to observe every detail of his surroundings at once. His muscles tense and pain blocks out his senses, and he tries to dissolve into smoke, but his body remains stubbornly flesh and bone. Some machinery starts beeping angrily, and he wants to hit it to make it stop, but his wrists are bound, and blind panic overtakes him. Nothing feels right, there are alarmed voices shouting all around him and he can’t see, can’t move, can’t think -

A wave of nausea washes over him and he loses consciousness again.

***

The next time he is awake, someone is snoring to his left. His vision is still blocked, but he manages to fight down the fear this elicits in him. He takes stock of what he knows about his situation.

Mercy knocked him out, and for some reason… the Reaper is gone.

He sets that thought aside for later deliberation.

He’s in a medbay, probably on the Gibraltar watchpoint he was attacking - how long ago? He has no way of telling. His body feels like heavy roadworks machinery drove over him, but the last reliable point of reference for what it should feel like is well and truly outdated. He can smell a faint trace of decay among the scent of sterilisers, medication, and cleaning products. There’s also a hint of cigar smoke that’s painfully familiar.

There’s a lull in the snoring, and a creak of the chair the person must be sitting in.

“Y’all’dn’t’ve, …” comes a sleepy murmur, followed by a loud snore. Gabriel Reyes is on the verge of tears, or maybe hysterical laughter. Jesse McCree came to watch him and fell asleep.

He tentatively moves a hand, and tries not to feel bitter about the restraints still firmly clasped around his wrists. He can feel IV tubes trailing along both his forearms, and bandages covering most of his body. He feels sluggish, probably firmly under the influence of some or other sedative being pumped into him.

The room he’s in must be small, if the soundscape is anything to go by. They are probably holding him in a containment cell, but why would Jesse be in the room with him? Perhaps they fitted some nook of the base with prison bars. His mind briefly flashes to all the reasons they would want to keep him imprisoned, and has to forcibly bring the layout of the watchpoint to the forefront of his mind lest chaotic shreds of the past five years overwhelm him. He goes over his memories of the sprawling facility instead.

“Hola, Gabe.”

He startles, and curses colorfully. “Sombra?”

“The one and only,” and he can hear her wicked grin in her tone. He wonders if she’s camouflaged, and his mind supplies the image of a vanishing Cheshire Cat, with its too many teeth and keen eyes disappearing just a little while after all the rest. He huffs a small laugh.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Better than you,” she answers.

“This tells me absolutely nothing and you know it,” he says. She laughs quietly.

“I’m not bed-bound, literally or figuratively, and not under surveillance, if that puts your poor heart to rest.”

He grunts, appeased. “What’s my status?”

“Really, Gabe? Ever the soldier,” she teases. “No one knows how, but when the good doctor knocked you out, she beat the whole evil wraith thing out of you. It was really fun to watch. Anyway, you dropped to the ground, and this cloud of black smoke with your mask attached just… slunk away somewhere. You’re in a repurposed medbay room. The cowboy is sleeping off an entire bottle of whiskey, and yeah, he snuck into your holding cell. He gave a very dramatic monologue at you earlier. I can show you a recording when Ziegler unwraps your eyes later.”

“What’s wrong with my eyes?”

Sombra hesitates for a heartbeat before answering. “I didn’t read through the files too closely. Ziegler spent, like, thirty hours operating on you right after your scuffle. She thinks you’re gonna need some implant in your right eye, but the left should work normally once you recover. As for the rest, well, Blackwatch has always had a knack for refurbishing ridiculously large portions of human body, no?”

He groans. “What does that mean,” he demands, trying to fight the unease.

“Well,” Sombra starts, and by the tone of her voice, he knows he’s in for a gruesome report. “Half of your organs are suspended halfway through the process of rotting, but most of your muscles, the nervous system, and skin are mending. I’m making air quotes, because, according to Doc Z, they don’t work like any organism known to her. A lucky mix of SEP and being possessed by an eldritch abomination, I suppose? By the way, you never shared that the Hot Topic take on Lovecraft wasn’t one hundred percent you. I wouldn’t live down people thinking that about me, Gabrielito.”

“You had color-changing pieces of neon plastic implanted on the skin of your head purely for the aesthetic, and you’re judging me?” Gabriel finds himself genuinely amused. He laughs softly, then louder. He cannot stop. “Hot Topic Lovecraft, oh god.”

Don’t think about the rest of what she said.

He keeps laughing until he starts coughing. He hears Sombra’s nails clink on glass, and her jacket rustle when she leans in closer. “I’m giving you water, here’s a straw,” she says, and a small plastic tube pokes him in the chin.

“Isn’t it going to leak out through a hole in my back or something?” he manages.

“At least it’ll be funny,” she answers. He grunts, not voicing his dissent.

The water feels divine in his mouth and throat, and he lets out a small noise after the first gulp. Sombra holds his head back when he tries to chase the half-emptied glass.

“Lay back,” she says. “You’ll be sick...er if you drink too much at once.”

“I don’t think I can feel any worse than this,” he grumbles.

“Have you never learned that things can always get worse?” Sombra counters. She sounds gentler than usual, and it instantly sours Gabriel’s mood.

“Should I even be awake?” he asks, hating the tightness in his throat. He swallows and winces.

“Nah,” says Sombra, voice back to its usual, sassy tone. “You burn through the sedatives faster than Mercy thought. Want me to crank them up for you?”

He hesitates. He hates the thought of being prone and unaware, but he doesn’t want to lie awake, nauseous and in pain, until someone comes to prod at him in the morning, asking questions and demanding… something for certain. Sombra picks up on his train of thought faster than he can come to a decision.

“For what it’s worth, I believe you’re in no danger here, and I’ll stick around. I can wake you up before anyone comes to see you.”

“Will you be safe?”

Sombra just chuckles.

“Sombra!”

“Shh,” she puts a finger on his mouth. “Don’t wake the sleeping cowboy. I’ll be fine.”

He just sighs. He feels so tired. “Okay. Knock me out.”

He can hear Sombra clicking, and he is pulled under. The last thought in his mind is about what might have happened with the Reaper.

#overwatch #reaper overwatch #overwatch fanfic #listen i promise this is gonna be crack but y'all can't stop me from pouring a bunch of feels and headcanon into this #also i have zero impulse control and that's 100% the reason this is up right now and in its current form #keyboard abuse #i did a thing

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