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[lbxbx]

Cockpit 6 | knj

Pair: Namjoon x reader

Summary: Namjoon goes through a rough time while getting a divorce, meeting you at the club two weeks in a row when attraction becomes unreal.

Rating: +18 mature content, Smut, divorce, fatherhood

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a/n: let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

taglist: @wecanpretendit |

You open up your eyes the next day, you didn’t get enough sleep but your phone just buzzed a notification, you click your tongue when you recall that you fell asleep before putting your phone on silent or do not disturb, you woke up with a mild hangover from last night’s poker game. You rub your eyes and immediately dig between your pillows to locate your phone.

You scrunch your eyes at the brightness when you unlock your phone, two notifications caught your attention, one being an email from the medical association, announcing that there’s a conference happening in Ilsan on Monday and you have to prepare a lecture for it. You’ve always attended those kinds of meetings but just as listener, but this year it’s your first time as a speaker since you managed to be one of the best in your department, the first notification made your day already, you’re proud of yourself.

But this email was sent a couple hours ago.

The second notification showing that someone texted you something two minutes ago and they unsent it, you click on the app and scroll through it, you even try googling how you can see who’s the sender, but you got zero results.

You scroll down and spot your chat with Namjoon, you click on it to see his last seen being a minute ago, but this doesn’t prove anything, it could be just a coincidence.

Although it isn’t.

Namjoon is dragging his carryon with him on his way to the terminal, he throws away his third empty cup of coffee before grabbing his phone, he’s been thinking about you the entire night, he wants to talk.

“how are you?”

“can we talk?”

It doesn’t even take a split second for him to unsend those messages, he can’t do it over text or over the phone, and he has to fly in less than an hour so he can’t really do anything until he lands in Seoul. He needs to see you face to face.

He swipes the app away and locks his phone when he arrives to the terminal.

-

“Shouldn’t the hospital pay for your ticket?” Jungkook asks out of breath, both of you are running on the treadmill, you’ve been working out together for some time now.

You and Jungkook met in the states in your first year in university, you both had majored in medicine, but he couldn’t keep up with the pressure, he went through so much that he just had to switch majors, he took the first plane back to Seoul and finished getting his degree to become a teaching assistant in Seoul’s university. You lost connection with him for a long time and you ran into him years after in a club and you became closer than ever.

“Yeah, they do, but I think I should take my car so I can move freely around there.” You shrug, he looks at you before squinting his eyes. “Honey it’s just one day, just go do your speech and fly back. Plus, the hospital is paying so you don’t have to spend anything.”

“It’s not about the money honey.” You mock his words, “It’s just that I don’t mind driving.”

“Don’t, really. Flying there is much safer.” He finally stops running when he finishes his miles. “You can’t drive there and back here on your own anyway, it’s not safe.”

You roll your eyes before turning off the treadmill, you grab your bottle of water and drink some to quench your thirst. “Whatever dumbass, you have to help me with my lecture.”

Both of you decided to shower at the gym and head out to Hoseok’s, they helped you choose a subject for your lecture and you finished it in a couple hours, it was a piece of cake with their help.

“Is it true what I heard?” Hoseok shuts his laptop and grabs a slice of pizza, you and Jungkook both turn to him in confusion. “What?” You ask.

“I heard some stuff from Seokjin hyung.” Hoseok takes a bite and wipes his mouth clean, you try and act oblivious but Jungkook is getting curious. “What?” He looks at you then back at Hoseok.

“Y/n hooked up with the guy she kissed at the club.” Hoseok shrugs. “It’s okay to talk about it since it’s over now, right?”

The younger looks at you with a shameless smirk on his face. “Nice.” He nods his head. You squint your eyes and elbow his chest. “Shut up.”

“So you totally agreed to hook up with a stranger but not with me.” He genuinely seems offended.

“Get over it Kook,” Hoseok huffs. “The guy is married.”

You study Hoseok’s face, is he pretending that he doesn’t know about the divorce? Or did he not really read his papers?

“You slept with a married man?” Jungkook exclaims a bit too loud that you rub your ear. “Okay first off, the neighbors don’t have to know, you don’t need to be loud.” He pouts.

 You rub your forehead, you recall that night clearly when you tried to guess what’s his job, you literally had his hands in yours, there wasn’t a ring on it. “And in my defense, he didn’t tell me he’s married.”

“You should’ve asked.” Hoseok points and Jungkook agrees which makes your jaw drop. “Why would a married man flirt with a stranger? He’s the one who started talking to me.”

“Men don’t get enough-” Hoseok shrugs and gets interrupted by Jungkook. “No no, men never get enough.”

You knew all along that some men are pigs but now you somehow find this very unbelievable, and you’re positive that your friends might be pigs too, they’re men too after all.

“He has a child.” Your voice barely comes out, you’re in denial.

“So?” Jungkook asks as if having a wife and a son isn’t enough of a reason, you look at Hoseok, he’s just eating carelessly and totally not shaken by Jungkook’s question and the cringe on your face.

You close your eyes and shake your thoughts out of your head. “Okay, we need to stop talking about this, it was just a one time hook up and it won’t happen again, I don’t even know the guy.”

-

Monday came in a blink of an eye, surprisingly you weren’t that nervous, you got into a formal attire and filled your handbag with everything you could ever need, your flight is scheduled at 9 in the morning, you’ll be landing in Ilsan an hour later, and your flight back is scheduled to land in Seoul around 7 in the evening.

You grab your phone to find your friends active on the group chat wishing you good luck, you hover your fingers over the screen and respond to them with a smile on your face.

You take a cab to the airport and check in and head to your gate, you’re on your iPad re reading your lecture again while listening to music, you take a sip from your coffee and you spot a bunch of cabin crew and you scoff.

You didn’t realize how wrong Namjoon did you until now, everything seems to remind you of how bad things turned, and no matter how hard you convinced yourself that he’s just a stranger and you won’t have to see him again, you still grit on your teeth. You’ve always been smart and wit, your gut feeling was always right and you question yourself, why did you decide to ignore it this time, you have no idea.

Maybe something deep inside you actually had a thing for Namjoon, not a crush or something, but he just ticks everything on your list, and you find him quite close to your ideal type of men, but oh well, the man is married.

Well, he’s getting a divorce too. You think and you widen your eyes at your own thoughts before you burry your face in your palms.

Even if he was already divorced or whatever, that wasn’t your problem now. The man lied, and he’s a total red flag for you now, you didn’t have full trust in him to begin with, and now you can’t trust him at all.

Do men really not get enough? You recall what your friends said days ago, they can’t be totally right, you’ve seen healthy relationships before where each partner finds the other more than enough and they’re totally happy with each other.

You lift your face back up and you see the cabin crew again, you could clearly see what seemed to be the pilot flirting with one of the flight attendants, and goodness there’s a ring on his finger. Men.

Namjoon could’ve totally slept with so many women and convinced them that he’s single just like he did to you.

Speaking of which.

Namjoon is in the airport bathroom soaking himself with perfume before he heads to the terminal, he’s a few minutes behind the rest of the cabin crew.

The past few days were extremely hard on him, he’s been flying nonstop all over the republic just to distract himself from over thinking and just to waste time. He was going to try and contact you but he still isn’t brave enough to do so. He even drove to your place and stayed in his car for hours, hoping that you’d head out of the building any minute, but you were staying home the past few days.

He knew if he called or texted you wouldn’t answer, and he’s right.

The moment he walks to the terminal and boards the plane is when your face is in your palms because you’ve been having a debate with yourself earlier.

You didn’t see him, and neither did he.

“Where have you been?” His co pilot speaks as he enters the cockpit, Namjoon puts his carryon in the overhead bin before putting his phone down on his seat. “I was having a smoke.”

Boarding finally starts and you walk through the boarding bridge while carefully slipping your iPad in your bag making sure it won’t touch your heels, you chose to wear a pair of sneakers on your way there and change into your heels when you finally get there.

A queue is forming near the airplane door and you hear the flight attendants giggling with the passengers, you step a foot into the plane and one of the cabin crew welcomes you with the fakest wide smile ever. “Welcome aboard, may I see your boarding pass?”

“Thanks.” You hand her the ticket not bothering to mirror her smile, “I’ll take it from here.” A deep voice resonates that makes you lift your face up to see him.

Fucking Kim Namjoon.

Out of all the flights your hospital could’ve booked, they chose the one that Namjoon was flying.

Your eyes meet and it feels like you’ve seen him not long ago, you feel yourself getting charged with hate and anger again when you see him and you hardly control yourself to not snap at him and make a scene.

 He snatches the ticket from the flight attendant and looks closely at it. “Come, I’ll walk you to your seat.” An immediate frown sits between your brows, you know he’s not authorized to walk you to your seat, and you can hear the other cabin crew whispering between each other.

You don’t have to take a long walk to your seat since the hospital booked you a business class ticket even when it’s just a one hour flight. Namjoon leads the way and you walk after him, he stops near your seat and points his head towards it. “Here you go.”

He didn’t leave you a good amount of space to enter your seat, so you stand super close to him before putting your bag down and take a your seat. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He bends down on his knees and leans his arm against the seat in front of you. ”How long are you staying in Ilsan?” And you immediately answer while trying to look careless, unlocking your phone and scrolling through it. “None of your business.”

“Y/N, please, we need to talk.” He begs with his voice barely whispering. “I’ll be waiting for you when we land-“

“Save it Namjoon, I’m going there for business and I don’t have the time.” You look at him, a sigh escapes his nose and he swallows when he looks at your lips for seconds, before looking back into your eyes. “I won’t waste your time, I’ll drive you wherever you wanna go. But please.” He begs again, his hand nearly falling on your leg but he stops himself and rests it on the back of your seat.

You scoff and shake your head, you look through the window for a second, then look back at him. “Look at you.” His eyes are locked onto yours. You continue. “Just so you know, there’s nothing you could say to explain yourself.”

“Namjoon, they need you in the cockpit.” A flight attendant nudges his shoulder, he nods without even looking up at her, then leans in closer. “Don’t get off the plane when we land, just stay here and we’ll leave together.”

You sigh in response and his hand finally lands on your knee for a quick touch of affirmation, he gets up and makes his way to the front of the plane, you eye him from head to toe, your eyes piercing through his big body, and he knows you’re watching.

You fasten your seat belt and lean your head back on the chair, you were hoping that you’d catch some sleep on the plane but you can’t.

You can easily predict what he wants to talk about, and you really used to fancy this man in general, but now he looks like a total different human being to you, and you can’t say you’re not disappointed.

You’re not going to over think this anymore, you’ve had enough, you’re gritting on your teeth again and your jaw tenses, you feel yourself about to get a headache. You’re seeking for closure.

The announcement bell rings and your eyes widen when you hear Namjoon’s voice radiate through the speaker. “Good morning and welcome aboard, this is your captain Kim Namjoon speaking.” You find yourself breathing heavily suddenly, you look all the way to the front of the plane, you can see the cockpit door still open, and you could see just the side of Namjoon’s body and the rest is blocked by the stupid giggling flight attendant.

“First I’d like to welcome you on Korean airlines flight number KA87 heading to Ilsan, we are currently third in line for takeoff. We are expected to be in the air in approximately 14 minutes, we’ll be up to a cruising altitude of 32 thousand feet, flight time will be one hour, if the seat belt sign is turned please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened.” You can see him shifting in his seat, before your phone buzzes a text, you grab your phone and see that he was the one who sent the text.

“I’m happy to see you :)”

Your stomach does this weird thing inside you that you haven’t felt before, your hand hovers over it and you try had to calm your breath but now your heart is fluttering.

“Please switch off your mobile phones, or turn on airplane mode for safety reasons.” He speaks through the speaker and you put your phone back into your bag with your jaw down. You cannot believe him.

“In about ten minutes after departure the cabin crew will be coming around to offer you a light snack and a beverage, until then, sit back, relax and enjoy your flight, thank you.” He closes the speaker and the back of your hand sits on your burning cheek, you’re totally confused on what’s happening to you.

You unbutton the first two buttons of your shirt and fan your face, if any of the flight attendants saw you they’d think you’re afraid of heights or you’re panicking but really, you’re not. You’re just.. Overwhelmed, if that’s the right word to use.

 “Cabin crew please be seated for takeoff.” He speaks one last time before he moves the entire plane towards the runway.

Namjoon did his hardest to stay focused on the only thing he had to do, his mind was rushing with thoughts, each one interrupting the other, he has no idea how to start talking, hell he’s not even sure if you’re going to wait for him or not. He couldn’t fight the smile that’s slowly creeping on his face, it doesn’t go unnoticed by the copilot, he even smirks before asking Namjoon. “Is that your wife?”

The question robs the smile away from Namjoon’s face, and he finds himself cringing. “No.”

She could never live up to you, no offense to her. But she doesn’t put any effort in the way she looks, she never cared, in fact Namjoon doesn’t recall the last time he saw her styling her hair or putting on makeup. She’s unemployed since she’s taking care of Jay most of the time, but Namjoon opened a bank account for her so she can do whatever she wants or even buy something for herself. But she never did.

And you, gosh he doesn’t even know where to start. You’re just you.

The second you stepped foot on the plane and he saw you, he felt his stomach twist and his heart skipped a beat, he could feel a hint of tightness in his boxers as his body starts pumping blood everywhere. He really is happy to see you.

Meanwhile you’re in your seat less than an hour later as the flight attendants take their seats to prepare for landing, and you may seem biased when you admit that this was the smoothest landing ever. Namjoon must be really good.

People almost immediately rise from their seats to claim their luggage from the overhead bin, you grab your phone and turn off airplane mode, you’re welcomed to Ilsan with a few text messages from your mobile network, the moment you clear this notification you lift your face up to see the passengers beginning to exit the aircraft, and you spot Namjoon standing with the flight attendants and saying goodbye to the passengers one by one with a soft smile with his stupid dimple showing.

His eyes pierce to you between each passenger and he’s glad you actually stayed, he grabs his carryon from the bin above his head and puts it down on the floor before nodding to you.

You take it as a sign to get up and you do, throwing your bag over your shoulders and lowering your sunglasses down to cover your eyes, you walk towards him and you feel your body heat up the second he puts his hand on your lower back. “How was your flight?”

You look at him and roll your eyes at how cocky he’s getting and he lets out a soft laugh. “I’m just messing with you.” This motherfucker.

“What brings you to Ilsan?” He starts talking as you’re walking down the stairs of the plane, and you take a second to give him a blurry answer. “I’m here for work.”

“Work?” He asks as both of you make it inside the bus that’s driving you to the airport gate.

You look around the bus and it’s packed with people and there isn’t a single seat empty, you lean your back against the window near the door and you try finding a hand grip to hold onto, Namjoon leans both his palms behind you and nods. “Hold onto me, it’s okay.”

The smell of his cologne mixed with cigarettes wafts through your nose, you’re sandwiched between him and the window, and you’re surrounded by so many people that it’s physically impossible to push him. You look into his eyes to see him staring at your lips, your eyes wander lower to his neck to see his necklace.

It’s the necklace you saw on his neck the morning he left your place.

Your fingertips move towards his neck before you fish out the necklace from underneath the buttoned shirt. The look on your face makes his heart shatter, and even his heart melts when you breathed. “That’s your son.”

He looks down to your fingers and he touches the small necklace too, making both your fingertips touch, you feel his touch in a form of electric current and you lower your hand immediately. “That’s my son.” He whispers.

You study his face for a long second.

Despite the fact that he cheated and what he did was wrong on so many levels,  he looks like he totally regrets it, and he seems like he genuinely wants to make things right with you. You’re ready to hear him out.

“Alright.” You sigh and he smiles softly, tugging softly on the loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

The bus starts moving and you immediately hold onto his wrist for support, his smile goes wider before he grabs your hand into his, intertwining his fingers between yours which settles this weird feeling down in the pit of your stomach. What in hell is going on?

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He takes a step closer to you, the smell of his cologne getting stronger and chest barely brushing against yours. You remind yourself that this man lied to you once and you can’t just let him off the hook this easy.

It’s a five minute ride to the airport and it felt like five hours to you, you’re getting worried at how your body is reacting around this man.

You finally get to the airport and finish all your paperwork, he fishes out a pair of car keys and leads you to the parking lot.

“You’re renting?” You question him while buckling up and he shakes his head. “It’s my sister’s car.”

“Ah yes, you’re from Ilsan.” You remember that he told you this before and he nods, you lean down to take off your sneakers and socks off, you switch to the pair of heels you have in your bag, you can feel his eyes on you so you turn to look at him. “What?”

“Where are we going?” He asks, you show him the exact location that the conference was held in and he nods and starts driving, he doesn’t even bother opening maps or anything, he knows every alley in Ilsan. “How long are you staying here?”

“Namjoon, you’re the one who’s supposed to be talking.” You sounded too mean and he starts feeling pressured, his breath becoming slowly irregular. “Fine, fine.”

You look at him while he’s driving, he’s forming small sweat pebbles on his forehead and his grip around the steering wheel gets tighter. “I’m sorry.”

You’re fed up with how hesitant and scared he seems. “Yeah, I know, and?”

“I uhm.. I should have.. told you since day one.” He clears his throat. “What I did was really wrong and unfair to you.”

Your hand sits on your chest when you exclaim. “To me? You’re married, you should feel sorry for your wife.”

A frown sits on his face and he feels his blood pressure elevating by the second, he gets really irritated at the mention of her. “No, y/n, you don’t know anything.” You frown. “Enlighten me.”

He rubs his face and his jaw tenses, he opens his mouth to start talking, but he shakes his head instead and looks through the window. “For fucks sake Namjoon.” Your voice starts getting louder, he slams the steering wheel and finally bursts. “I’m miserable, okay?” He’s louder than you are.

“I’m fucking miserable, I’m not happy, and I’m lonely.” His chest heaves up, he runs his fingers through his hair before continuing. “My life is a fucking nightmare, y/n.”

You feel your heart clenching when his voice starts getting shaky. “It’s killing me.”

This man lied to you once and you don’t feel like you can trust him again, for all you know, he could be lying to you again. You’re unsure if the reasons he listed earlier are valid enough for him to cheat on his wife.

“I feel like shit for doing you wrong.” He stops the car on the side of the road and looks at you. “You have the right to be mad at me, I know I’m a terrible person.”

And right off the top of your head you ask him. “Is she not good to you?” Your voice comes out in a form of a whisper. He scoffs and shakes his head before looking down. “I’ve known her for years, but she still feels like a stranger..:”

You lose it when you see tears forming in his eyes. “We painted this fake image of us holding hands in front of people and smiling just so they think that we’re happy, but we’re not even an inch close to happy. I tried so hard to compromise but I got nothing in return, it was always me who has to work hard for this marriage and I got nothing. I thought that life just goes on and maybe that’s what all married couple are like, but no. I’ve made so many wrong decisions in my life but she was the worst ever.” His tears finally roll down on his cheek and he just sobs, gravity does its job and his tears fall onto his lap.

You’ve never seen a man this weak and vulnerable, you feel your heart squeezing at his state, he looked so firm and happy on the outside, he looked stable, but he was able to conceal it all very well, that must’ve drained him through those years.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and sit on your knees, you grab his head into your hands and brush his tears with your thumb softly before hugging him closer to you, he wraps his arms around you and speaks. “Imagine being silenced for years.” He pulls back, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’ve been through this nightmare for three fucking years and I couldn’t say a word to anyone about how fucking miserable I am.”

“Shh. It’s okay.” You whisper, cupping his jaw in your hands and tracing it with your thumb, you brush your nose against his and close your eyes. “I’m here.”

He grips onto your top with his fist and pulls back, “What?”

You feel the need to help him escape this, the man is clearly going through severe depression and he’s emotionally deprived from any act of affection or love. It’s not like you’re offering to love him, but you need to help him get back on his feet.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” You smile softly at him and offer him your hand, he locks his eyes into yours and grabs your hand pulling it closer to his face, he leans his head onto it and kisses it softly.

“Thank you.” He whispers while mirroring your smile. You giggle and adjust your seat. “We have to get back on the road Namjoon.”

He nods and turns the car back on before hitting the road again, you felt the need to explain to him the reason you’re in Ilsan and he ends up offering to attend the conference with you, actually no, he insisted on attending.

He parks in front of the building and both of you exit the car, he opens his carry on and manages to change just his top before entering the main hall.

“Miss y/l/n.” The head of the medical association approaches you while reaching his hand out to you, you shake his hand firmly and smile. “Lovely to see you Mr. Baek.”

“I’m so glad you got to be a speaker this year.” He smiles back, his eyes spotting Namjoon behind you, you pull back and put your hand behind Namjoon’s back, pushing him closer to you. “Let me introduce you, this is my friend Namjoon.”

“Nice to meet you.” Namjoon shakes his hand firmly before the old man speaks to you. “It’s lovely for you to have support, we’re all so proud of you.”

“Thank you.” You smile before hooking your arm around Namjoon’s. “Pardon us.”

Even when you just introduced Namjoon as your friend, he’s not used to being touched like that in public because he was never touched like that in the first place.

-

Speaking in front of a huge crowd was never a big deal for you, your lecture was interesting to begin with and your powerful personality made a strong presence on stage, you almost forgot that Namjoon was between the crowd watching you with his jaw slightly open.

The second you stepped on that stage he felt… Euphoric.

He listens to every single word that comes out of your lips attentively even when you’re using complicated medical terms, he scans your body language and your hand movements and he swears he hasn’t been this impressed by a woman before.

He’s proud of you.

You’re the woman he’s always imagined having in his dreams, he was quite the ambitious person himself and he had so many goals he wanted to achieve but his personal life always stood in the way.

He finds himself charged when he’s around you and not only sexually, he’s suddenly in a better mood and his brain and body function better, he finds himself way less anxious than when he’s around his family, although he should feel this way around his son too, but your aura is totally different.

His heart skips a beat again when your eyes meet in the middle of your lecture and you smile softly at him as if he’s the one who needs support. He finds your smile contagious and he gives you one back with a soft nod, he’s really proud of you.

You finally end your lecture and they applaud you, you know you did great. You bow your head and get off the stage to be welcomed by a few colleagues who shake your hand and make small talk with you about how good your lecture and where your sources were from, they even ask you a couple questions about your topic.

You got offered two jobs on the spot in two different hospitals around the republic but you were kind enough to refuse, the hospital you currently worked at is the hospital that helped you get where you currently are.

You thank them and make your way back to your chair, Namjoon gets up on his feet and grabs your hand into his. “You were great.”

“I know, thank you.” You grin when he pulls you closer for a soft kiss on your cheek, he pulls your chair back for you to sit next to him, and both of you sit back to listen for the rest of the conference.

It’s a couple hours later, Namjoon is driving you back to the airport while you’re on your phone texting your friends on your group chat, they had planned a dinner to celebrate you tonight, so Taehyung was supposed to pick you up from the airport since he already lives close to it.

“Can’t you please stay for tonight?” He manages to turn his head towards you for a split second while he’s driving, you lock your phone and put it down before you speak. “I’m supposed to meet my friends for dinner and I’m on call tomorrow morning.”

His shoulders sulk in disappointment and a sigh escapes his nose, his eyes are now focused on the road and it’s clearly showing that he wants to be around you more, which kicks your ego up to the top.

At the same time he doesn’t argue and he doesn’t insist, he just wants to give you your own space so he won’t pressure you, you chuckle before running your fingers to the back of his head, scratching his scalp with your nails. “You know I can see you back in Seoul.”

You know your hand drives him crazy and you could care less If you crash, you want to leave him edged and thirsty for more and you like it. His eyelids starts to feel heavy and he fights it so hard to stay focused on the road. “It’s just that..” He breathes, your fingers move down to scratch his neck, he swallows before he proceeds. “.. I wanted us to be alone and away together.”

You take a long breath before you retrieve your hand back onto your lap, you’re not going to give him what he wanted immediately. You did offer your help but you didn’t forget about the terrible lie he played on you. So he deserves to be denied for the mean time. “If that’s your way of inviting me to bed than save it.” You smirk. He lets out a quiet laugh and stretches his hand to sit on your inner thigh, his fingers squeezing your covered flesh softly and stroking it, “Fine, I deserve to be punished after all.” He bites on his lip.

“Good boy. I’m glad you’re aware of that.” You managed to play the role of the tough cookie but you can’t deny that his touch is doing wonders to you, the warmth of his hand against your covered skin and his soft strokes gives you flashbacks of that night you spent together, and the other nights where you made him cum just by hearing your voice.

You finally get to the airport and he turns off the car in the parking lot, he looks at you while unbuckling his belt. “Are you sure you don’t have the time?”

“The gate is already open Namjoon.” You look at the time on your wrist, you unbuckle your seat belt and fish out your documents from the bag. “Thank you for keeping me company.”

“I’ll see you back in Seoul?” He coaxed, you giggle and take your time to answer with a slow nod. “I’ll see you back in Seoul.”

He leans in and you think he’s going to kiss you on the cheek, but he moves further down to brush the tip of his nose against the pulse of your neck, he takes a long inhale through his nose, collecting whatever he can of your smell which arouses him, he closes his eyes and whispers. “I can’t say it enough, but I’m truly sorry.”

You clear your throat before you move your hand up to his jaw and caress it with your thumb. “I know you are.”

He keeps his face buried in your neck for a couple seconds before he pulls back and locks his eyes with yours, you see the face you saw earlier this morning, apologetic and full with regret.

“I have to go.” Your faces are extremely close that he feels your hot breath hit his glistening lips, he nods and fully pulls back to collect his phone and keys. “Come on, let me walk you inside.”

-

“I don’t know if we say this enough y/n, but we’re totally proud of you. We’re always there for you and we’ve got your back, we truly love you.” Taehyung lifts his glass of champagne up on the air before all you clink your glasses together. “To y/n.”

You sip some of your drink and put it down before Yoongi starts. “So how was your trip?”

“It was quite chill, it’s my first time on a business class, other than that everything went great, I also got a few job offers.” You slowly nod your head. Yoongi sips more of his drink and lifts up an eyebrow. “I heard some stuff from Jungkook.”

You snap your head towards the youngest who’s totally avoiding eye contact with you, his face flushing at the sudden mention of his name.

After all, what were you expecting? Seokjin told Hoseok, and Hoseok spoke in front of Jungkook, and now Yoongi is discussing this around the table where not only your friends are sitting, but also a couple of their partners.

And by the looks of it, his wife already know since she’s studying your face and waiting for confirmation.

Do they just go around talking to each other about you? Your hookup with Namjoon will haunt you for the rest of your life.

“Yeah it’s true.” You spit out, “Namjoon’s married?” Jimin asks and your eyes almost fall out from their sockets, as far as you remember, he knows you hooked up with someone, but not with Namjoon specifically.

“He’s married?” Taehyung dramatically drops his fork which makes you roll your eyes. “I actually saw him in Ilsan.”

Your statement was followed by a complete silence around the table, you feel everyone’s eyes on you as they’re waiting for you to elaborate, you clear your throat and open your mouth. “Relax, we didn’t go together, he was flying that plane.”

You realize that they still don’t know what he does when they look at you like you said something in a foreign language that they don’t understand. Hoseok turns his body fully towards you. “Flying the plane? Like fly fly?” He blinks repeatedly.

“He’s an aircraft pilot.” You take a sip from your champagne and you clearly see Mia and Jade, Taehyung’s girlfriend, swoon over the man, you nod with a smirk. “I know right?”

“And did you talk?” Seokjin hesitates, leaning his elbows on the table and closer towards you so he can hear you better. You nod. “Mhm. He apologized and I guess we’re okay now.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to see him again.” Taehyung whines. “You can’t be the mistress.”

Taehyung’s words woke some sense in you and you actually admit that you cannot be the mistress. You scold yourself because you shouldn’t have let him off the hook that easily and offer him closeness immediately.

You jump in your seat when your phone buzzes and speaking of the devil, it’s him.

“Call me when you’re home.”

“I miss hearing ur voice.”

A knot sits between your eyebrows and you actually leave him on read. You are not going to reply to him and that’s it. You lock your phone and put it back in your purse. “I’m not going to be the mistress.” You firmly say, and you cross your arms above your chest.

-

It’s later in the night, you had already finished your dinner with your friends that night and headed back home, you showered and put on a face mask, and went to bed really early since you’re on call in the morning.

A little past midnight, your phone vibrates repeatedly and you think it’s work because they usually call for consult during the night when you’re at home. But it’s Namjoon again.

“can I call you?”

“I’m at the hotel room”

“I’m flying back to seoul in the morning”

“I’m so glad I got to see you today”

Your fingers hover above the screen and you purse your lips, debating whether you should answer or not, but again Taehyung’s words echo in your head, which makes you quickly turn off the wifi when you see him typing, you lock your phone and put it on your nightstand.

Oh so you’re going to ghost him now?

You don’t hesitate for a second, you fall back asleep in a snap of a finger.

Meanwhile, Namjoon is freshly out of the shower, his hair dropping small pebbles of water on his neck and back, his phone is in his hand and he’s getting concerned of the fact that you’re not replying to his texts.

He actually saw it coming, and he knows you’re not going to reply to his texts or ghost him for some time, of course he’s not going to pressure you to answer, so he just puts his phone down and lies down flat on his bed. He knows he deserves the punishment.

He’s in Ilsan but he doesn’t always stay at his parents. Since he’s there partially for work, the aviation he works at provides him a room at the airport hotel, so he just stays there before he flies back to the capital.

-

To say you wake up cranky the next day is an understatement, your period started today and your tummy and back are killing you, and your headache is getting stronger by the second.

Hoseok who decided on picking you up to and from work today has been blabbering since you stepped foot in the car and you’re waiting for him to stop talking.

“Men actually love it when women are mean with them, don’t over think stuff with that man, I remember once I hooked up with a girl and I was planning on not calling her the next day, she wasn’t that special and she wasn’t really worth the shot, but I swear the minute she started being mean with me I liked her a lot better.” He even laughs and your face falls inside your palm, you could beg him to shut up.

“When she started being nice to me I got the ick and totally blocker her number, it’s just how the world works you know, and I’m not-“

“Hobi please.” You snap. “Shh.”

And the man sulks with a pout on his face, you’re not even sorry, you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today and your body isn’t giving you a break. You could’ve called for a day off but no one wanted to switch shifts with you.

The moment you step foot into the department, the nurses actually give you a few meds to help you go through your shift, it was hectic that day.

You grab your phone a few hours later and finally turn back on the wifi, Namjoon sent one text early in the morning, which is probably right before he headed to work.

“i hope ur okay, take care.”

Your fingers hover over the screen and you decide on messaging him back even when you don’t want to.

“fly safe J”

 Your heart beats faster when he reads the message seconds later, you’re about to lock your phone but he’s calling you, and you can’t just ignore his call when you just texted him.

You wait a couple seconds later and finally answer him. “Kim Namjoon.”

He lets out a low grunt before laughing, you can’t see him, but he’s in bed stretching, he’s sleeping on his right side with his phone under his ear, his eyes immediately shut close when he hears his name. “Good morning.” His voice deep and sleepy, also low so he cannot be heard.

Fuck, he’s not helping you keeping your hands to yourself when he does that.

“Did you miss your flight or what?” You grab your white coat and make your way out of the emergency department to take your call. He breathes into his phone and speaks. “No, my flight was early in the morning, I’m in Seoul now.”

You can’t help but ask, even when you really know that it’s inappropriate and really none of your business, you even stutter. “Is she there?” And it comes out as a whisper. You’re really asking him about his wife.

It takes him a few seconds to process the question, uncertain whether he should actually answer the truth or not. Because she’s home and in the next room, if he was an octave louder he would be heard.

Although he did promise himself that he won’t lie to you, so he answers. “Yes.”

Your heart clenches and no matter how hard you think you’re going to accept it, it’s just really hard to digest.

You clear your throat and bite on your nails, and as if he can see you, he laughs quietly and whispers back. “I wanted to say this to you face to face, but you have to know, whether you showed up in my life or not, I would’ve gotten the divorce any way, so don’t worry.”

Namjoon never knew what it felt like to be taken care of or shown love, and neither did you, you’ve never been in an exclusive relationship with anyone before. Of course you’re loved by your family and friends, but someone actually offering you affection and care who is neither a family nor a friend feels weirdly good.

It’s like the missing piece in your life that you just realized you needed.

But still it feels concerning when Namjoon talks about you like that, and you actually spit it out to seek for an answer so you won’t have to overthink it. “Come on Joon, it was just a one time hookup, why are you talking like it’s more than that.” You even fake a laugh to make it sound nicer than you truly mean.

And he just blurts it out. “Because it is more than just a hook up,”  And he can sense that your tension over the phone is increasing, you realize you’ve been holding your breath for a second before he speaks with an audible smirk on his lips. “Come on y/n, we both know it’s more than just a hook up.”

It slightly irritates you at how smug he sounds, you scoff before speaking. “Wow you surely sound confidant about that. I hate to break it to you, but really, it’s not true.”

“Okay.” He’s totally not convinced, you hear him muffling under the blanket in his bed. “I’ve been thinking about you the entire night.”

Now it’s your turn to make his life a little harder. “And did you make yourself cum?” He takes a long breath before he hums. “I made myself cum when I imagined the way I wanted to please you, y/n.”

You’re ashamed at the way your body reacts, even when you’re on your period, your body acts upon his words and your face flushes, you press your thighs together to ease the increasing heat between your legs.

What he just said suddenly filled a certain void inside you that you never knew existed, you’ve always wanted a man seek after your own pleasure.

Even when you absolutely enjoy the dirty talk, and even when it makes your cunt tingle, you still manage to ask him. “Hm, so I guess you called just to ease your morning wood?”

You doubt the fact that this man thinks before he talks, he sounds so convincing and genuine when he replies so fast. “Just so you know, I don’t just see you in that way.”

Of course you’re going to doubt that, but he’s is in fact serious, he does think you’re insanely attractive and really good in bed that it makes him sometimes wonder how you’re still single, but on the other hand, he finds your job and your lifestyle very interesting and attractive, it’s been a month since you guys first met at the club, he thinks he knows enough to really fancy you, but when he attended your lecture and saw how successful you are at what you do, it made him see a totally different version of you.

“Whatever Namjoon, I need to hang up.” You sit up from the bench, he doesn’t hesitate when he asks. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

You actually have nothing planned for tonight, but you know you’re going to be kicked in the ass from your current shift and you’re also on your period. “Maybe.”

You can hear him stretching, he lets out a low grunt before he speaks again “I feel the need to take you somewhere, that’s if you don’t mind of course.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Somwhere?”

“I know a wine tasting tour held today, it’s on the outskirts though and there’s a huge farm there and it’s the harvest season, so we can actually go and check out the entire process, If you want to of course.” He seems excited when he’s speaking, still making sure he isn’t heard by the other two living under his roof.

You’re intrigued, your mind wants to say yes so badly, but your body is barely holding on for work. “I can’t today, I’m not feeling well.”

He shifts in his bed before he sits up. “Oh no, are you okay?” His voice coming out so soft and sweet, you try to stifle a grin but you can’t, and he actually hears it through the phone when you speak. “Oh my back hurts, that’s all.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

Screw you Kim Taehyung for saying those words, they still echo in your head and for a split second you shrug it off, fuck it, your body is aching for Namjoon and you’re a little ashamed to admit it.

“Yeah, I mean-“ You bite hard on your poor lower lip before you realize that even if he showed up, there’s nothing to do when it’s your time of the month. “Sure, come over.”

-

Namjoon finally leaves his room after he finished his call with you, Jay was crying his lungs out and he was on the floor throwing a tantrum, and his wife is nowhere to be seen.

“Daddy.” Jay stretches his arms up when he sees his father which makes Namjoon’s heart melt, he kneels down and holds his son closer to his chest, rubbing the back of his head softly. “Daddy’s here, what’s the matter?” He kisses his forehead softly. “Why are you crying?”

“Mommy won’t give me my ice cream.” He cries even louder and his father barely understands a word. Finally she gets out of the kitchen and starts picking up the little toys from the floor, “Jay how many times did I tell you, crying will not get you the ice cream.”

And the little toddler’s crying is loud and he starts kicking his legs, Namjoon holds him closer and smothers his tiny faces with kisses. “Shh, it’s okay.”

He turns to shoot a glare at the demon picking up the toys, he actually feels nauseated when she’s around, and ever since he met you, he just can’t look at her, so he forces himself at the second. “Why won’t you give him his ice cream?”

Jay is Namjoon’s only point of weakness, he cannot stand seeing him want something or crave something without getting him whatever he wants, he’d give him the world if  he asked and he’s willing to sacrifice anything for him, that all makes Jay adore his daddy.

“He didn’t finish his bowl of cereal and he even spilled it.” She throws the bag of toys down in the corner of the room, “No ice cream and no toys for the whole day.”

“He’s a baby, playing is all he’s got to do, you can’t just punish him like that.” Namjoon sternly speaks before standing up, still carrying his child.

“But daddy, I was too full and I said sorry.” Jay hugs his daddy tighter while wiping his own tears, “No you’re not going to get anything before you have your breakfast.” She approaches the little one and grabs him, Jay cries loud again and holds onto his father for dear life.

It aches Namjoon’s heart when he sees his child like that, he turns away and uses his palm to gently stop his wife from approaching them again. “Let me deal with this, he’s my child too.” He frowns before he goes to Jay’s bedroom and puts him down on his bed, he kneels down and cups his cheeks. “It’s okay baby, mommy wasn’t wrong, you can’t have your ice cream before breakfast,”

“But the bowl was too big, I’m full.” Jay rubs his eyes, his crying finally coming to an end, but the child is still sad. “Hmm, don’t you wanna be tall and big like daddy?” Namjoon pokes his son’s nose softly, “It’s okay you don’t have to finish your breakfast today, but I’ll tell you a secret,” He even whispers and inches closer to his son, a smile already starting to creep on Jay’s face when he’s enjoying the tiniest interaction with his father.

“We’ll go get you ice cream, but we cannot tell mommy, she’s not invited to our ice cream party.” And Jay looks at his father and it breaks Namjoon’s heart to see his son broken and crying over some stupid ice cream.

“Who were you talking to earlier?” She asks and gain’s his attention, she standing near the door frame with her arms crossed over her chest, he looks at her and wonders for a second when was the last time this woman showered?

He turns to his son’s closet and picks out a pair of sneakers. “Let’s get you dressed.”

“Who were you talking to?” Her voice gets louder and Namjoon doesn’t even flinch, he’s used to her being crazy and asking useless questions, he gets back on his knees and helps his son with his shoes. “Why do you care?” He asks, not looking back at her again.

“Just so you know, your son has been crying the entire morning asking for you, and he didn’t finish eat breakfast because you were too busy being on your phone.” She’s blabbering and even her son ignores her and asks his father. “Can I bring  mister broccoli with me?”

Mister broccoli was a stuffed toy that Namjoon got as a gift for Jay when he took his first flight ever with his father, the little one is extremely attached to this toy specifically and he wouldn’t let any of his cousins touch it.

Namjoon nods eagrly. “Go get him.”

Jay runs back to the living room and Namjoon rolls his eyes before he looks at his wife one last time. “I would appreciate it if you try and not pick an argument in front of him.” He cannot stand this woman.

She scoffs, “At least try and be a good father, try and be there for your son. He cried all night.”

Namjoon hates being called a bad parent, he isn’t. He finds himself gritting on his teeth and his heartbeat pounds faster in his chest. “Oh trust me, I’m a better parent than you are.”

Jay’s presence back in the room that eases Namjoon down immediately, even though he guaranteed divorce, but still he has to contain himself in front of his son, last week’s incident was a tough lesson for him.

“Daddy can I put mister broccoli in the back seat with me? I also want him to wear the seat belt.” Jay’s playful tone makes Namjoon mouth twitch in a smile, he nods and prints small soft kisses all over his son’s face. “I’ll let you put the seat belt for him, deal?”

Namjoon’s been flying nonstop and he’s very tired and he needs to catch some sleep to make it up for the nights he stayed up at work, he’s very exhausted but he can never say no to his son.

He grabs Jay’s tiny hands and leaves the place, leaving the woman behind him fuming. They get down to the car and Namjoon even gives Jay the key to unlock the car, and the little one is staring at his father with heart eyes, he always tried his best to give him anything he wishes for.

Namjoon opens the back door and puts mister broccoli next to the car seat, he teaches his son how to buckle the seat belt and Jay ends up doing it on his own, Namjoon gets this cute aggression around his son that he grabs his face tightly and sucks his cheek into a kiss. He can do it forever.

He finally helps Jay get into his car seat and buckles him up, before they head to their ice cream date.

-

Your shift is finally over by the afternoon, you hand over everything to the team on the next shift and you call a cab home, you were near breaking down and balling your eyes out, nothing major really, you’re just hormonal and tired.

Hoseok was supposed to drive you back home but you instantly regret it when he calls you from the court and says that he needs an hour to be there because something was scheduled urgently today.

You get home and take your clothes off, instant relief when you ditch the fabric off of your skin on a hot summery day, you change into your pajamas and head to the kitchen to turn on the kettle for tea, you don’t usually get that big of an appetite when you’re on your period so food is the last thing you consider making, your doorbell rings and you head to check the cameras, it’s the man you told to come over, the man you’ve been waiting for.

You unlock the door and a warm breeze of air immediately wafts through the entrance carrying the smell of his musky perfume, “Hey, Come in.” You tilt your head inviting him to come on in inside, and the second he steps foot inside your house he inhales, the smell feels nostalgic to him even when he’s been here only once.

Your place has this distinctive smell, it smells clean and fresh, a hint of fruitiness to it, your diffuser is always on so it always smells good, and Namjoon has picked up the hint of the floral scent you spray your furniture with, and also picked up your smell. Your odor is engraved into his head and he can smell it even when it’s layers away or even miles away, he finds it arousing.

He enters the house and hands you a small grocery bag that’s been sitting in his hands. “Are you okay? You look tired.” He steps closer to you and tugs your hair behind your ear.

“I’m fine, what’s that?” You open the bag to check out what’s inside, your heart melts when you see that he actually put in the effort to buy you pain killers, a heating pad and chocolates, even when you already have every item in your household. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” A genuine smile creeps on your face and he smiles back at you before pinching your cheek softly, you inch closer to him and give him a soft peck on his dimple that leaves him blushing, but hardly noticeable though.

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” He takes off his shoes and you see him walking inside, again even when he’s been here once, he knows this place like the back of his hand, you know that he’s comfortable around you even when the two of you haven’t known each other for long, he feels familiar and he feels close.

You walk into your bedroom and he follows you, he takes a quick scan at your room and he can tell that you’ve been in bed and you’re planning to spend the rest of your day in bed even when he’s here, nothing sexual planned at all though.

“Do you want me to help you with the heating pad?” He’s standing so close behind you that you feel his breath his your neck, you swallow and exhale with a shiver running through your spine, you nod softly and fish out the heating pad from the bag, “On my back please.”

“Okay.” He softly speaks before going down on both of his knees, you grab your top and pull it up for him to have better access, and he opens the wrapper and takes the pad out, he prints the softest kiss on your lower back right by the end of your tatted spine before he sticks the pad onto it and pulls your top back down. “There you go.”

You could swear he kissed your pain away, or it’s probably the endorphin rushing through your entire body when you saw him at your doorstep.

“Make yourself at home, I need to make tea first.” You’re about to turn but his hands sit on your hips, putting a soft amount of pressure, he presses his lips against your shoulder for a little kiss and whispers. “It’s okay, get in bed, I’ll make you tea.” He even kisses the same spot again before heading to the kitchen.

What is he doing to you?

You get to take a quick glance of his back when he’s leaving the room and you feel your face heat up, your hand sits on your cheek and you try to ease your quickening breath, you never felt this way towards anyone and it feels different, your stomach is pinching you and you’re unsure if it’s the cramps or what?

You’re worried for a second, you don’t know if he’s doing this because he wants to, or because he’s trying to get you into bed again? You know he’s in a miserable marriage so he might just do everything because there’s a benefit for him.

You make your way to your bed and you hear his footsteps coming closer and your heart races again at his aura, he enters the room with a cup of tea in one hand, and the box of pain killers in the other one, he approaches your side of the bed and rests the cup onto the nightstand before handing you a pill from the box, you look at him in the face and you tilt your head, his eyes lift up and lock into yours.

For a long moment both of you are studying each other.

You were never able to find out people’s intentions right away, you are very smart and really wit, you sometimes make assumptions that turn out to be true just out of coincidence. But Kim Namjoon was too difficult to read, well at least to you.

Or maybe he is easy to read, but after you found out that he masked his misery and his years long marriage, it became difficult for you to really find out what were his intentions. You appreciate what he’s trying to do, but you don’t know why he’s doing it.

You actually consider introducing him to your friends just because they know how men think and what are their real intentions, Taehyung can easily judge people and he was never wrong.

As for him.

His eyes travel between yours, then move down to your nose and lips, up to the loose strand of your hair that’s tickling your jaw, he feels drawn to you in ways he cannot explain, and if he wants to reflect on the overall situation, he easily admits that he changed after he met you, you changed him, he’s a better version of himself when he’s around you, he’s looking at you and memorizing every single detail on your face, you’re not like her, you’re not like any of them women.

Actually it’s way easier than you think, Namjoon was too easy to read, if you just stop the over thinking for a second and see the way he stares at you, you could easily tell that the man is developing something for you, let’s just call it a crush for the mean time, you don’t know the effect you have on this man.

“Thank you.” You grab the pill into your mouth and chase it with water before pulling the blanket over your body, he stands up and takes his shirt off, after all, it was really warm that day.

And goodness you forgot how big this man is, you immediately look away because you know your body gets way too excited at the thought of Namjoon naked. And you also hate to admit it, but your sex drive is usually on fire on your first day of your period.

“You can sleep if you want to, I’m here if you needed anything.” He walks to the other side of the bed and lies down next to you.

You simply nod, maybe he was right when he told you this morning that this is more than just a hookup.

Minutes later, you close your eyes but you’re not asleep, he probably thinks you are, but you can’t, you open one eye and look at him, he’s lying on his back with one arm behind his head and his phone in the other hand, he’s reading something, clearly a book. His eyelids feel heavy and he puts down the phone on the night stand next to him before he adjusts in bed and falls asleep while hugging a pillow.

And suddenly you feel this flood of emotions wash through your entire body, and you feel bad for the man, a smart good looking sensitive man whose desperate to feel loved and touched after all these years, he’s practically a virgin even when he isn’t.

You huff and hide your face under the blanket, you cannot believe that you actually validate his reasons and give him the right to cheat, you even start thinking that him cheating should be worth it.

He’s a human being with feelings, and you feel like you can offer him some of his needs.

You crawl closer and pull the blanket over his body, you even grab the pillow away from him and hold onto his wrist to and put it around your waist, he’s not in deep sleep yet, so he opens his eyes for a second and processes the fact that you’re going to sleep in his arms, he tightens the grip around and pulls you even closer to him whilst whispering in your ear. “Do you want me to get you anything? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” You bury your face into his neck and both of you fall asleep in a click of a button.

It’s almost like both of you felt safe enough to go into deep sleep when you’re around each other.

You don’t know yet, or maybe you do but won’t admit, but you’re developing something for him too.

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.27

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

Nat’s been more than exhausted these past few weeks as she drafts up argument after argument that she can use against the government to justify why she and her fellow Avengers shouldn't be put on a leash. She knows it’s a long shot and she doesn’t have enough witness accounts or evidence yet but she’s been hearing about the crime rate spike through the rumor mill and she hopes that soon enough she’ll have enough to come back.

She can bring her family back and finally have you. If you’ll still have her after all of this is over. She knows you’d have every right to be mad but she hopes you’ll understand enough to at least let her take you on one date.

The rain pelts outside of her window as it has been for the last three days and she sighs as she lies back on her pull-out bed. If it were under different circumstances she might’ve been able to appreciate the break from the city and the pressure. Maybe she could even come back to these woods with Clint, or Wanda, or…You.

She’s working hard to make sure her family is safe, yes, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t working this hard to also see you again. To finally know what it feels like to hold you, to run her fingers through your hair, and hear you laugh again. The thought of you has been the only thing that’s brought her comfort these past few weeks.

Her computer dings with an email and she shoots up immediately, grabbing the shiny object from the side table next to her and pulling it onto her lap. She wasn’t expecting any emails while she was out here and her mind jumped to the worst-case scenario: they’d found her location.

The email is from an unknown sender which only makes her more uneasy and she’s more frustrated than anything that she’ll have to find a new place to hide when she recognizes the encrypted link hidden in the email's coding.

It was a website Clint had created just for the two of them to communicate in case there was ever a situation similar to this. She’s afraid to admit just how comforting it was to hear from someone close to her after weeks of no contact. She quickly opens the website and reads the messages.

Clint-

Hey Natty, hope you’re having fun wherever you’ve parked that trailer of yours, Tony’s been a real pain in the butt but we’re trying to negotiate some better terms with some government officials. I know you’re probably working on a solution of your own but I’ve got to at least pretend like I contribute to this group-

She snorts at the self-jab, knowing her fellow Avenger couldn’t care less about the insults people say about him being the least skilled Avenger. She always admired that about him.

Clint-

Anyway, your phone’s been blowing up. I think Tony is getting suspicious so I took it and hid it in my room. I think you’re gonna be in deep shit with your girlfriend when you get back haha. 

I attached the voicemails you’ve been getting, I didn’t listen to them but I saw who they were from. Thought they might be important.  

Nat’s heart pounded as she stared at the attached files, there were at least 30 voicemails from you varying in different lengths and part of her was scared to open them. There was no doubt a few of them were just you yelling at her but even then she’d missed the sound of your voice so much that she’d take your irritation over anything else.

She hesitates over the first voicemail with her cursor but clicks it before she can sike herself out. There’s a little bit of silence and she wonders if you’re going to talk before she hears a small sniffle and her heart breaks. She swore to herself she’d never make you cry and now she’d failed, the sound of your quiet crying echoing throughout her trailer only amplifying her defeat.

It's another thirty seconds before your voice finally breaks through. It’s rough and raw and she can tell you’d probably been crying for a while.

“Nat? Where did you go? Why’d you leave? Listen- we don’t have to meet if you don’t want to. We can keep texting forever just don’t ghost me like this. Please.” It’s short and by how broken your last word sounded she can tell you were probably thrown into another fit of sobs after you ended the message. 

Nat doesn’t know what to do with herself, her body feels frozen and her heart won’t stop sinking further into her stomach. She’s never heard you sound so unsure of yourself before and it tears her apart that she’s the one who made you that way. It takes her a few minutes to muster up the courage to click on another one.

“What kind of person just says ‘I’m sorry?’ I deserve a better explanation than that! You couldn’t have at least lied to me about going to save baby animals in Africa where there’s no cell service? At least then when you stopped responding I could’ve felt better!” She’s not surprised that you’re mad at her, you deserve to be, but it doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at her chest when she hears how irked you are.

The next few are similar in the fact that they’re either angry or spoken through tears but they slowly begin transitioning into something else. Eventually, you stop talking about her leaving and start talking about yourself. What you did that day, what you’re making for dinner, the cat you’ve been visiting at the cat cafe. There’s still a hint of sadness in your tone but she can tell the calls are a form of therapy for you. A way for Nat to be there when she’s not really there.

She wants to be there. She wants to be the one you’re talking about your day with, wants to cook you dinner while you sit on the counter and visit the cat cafe with you. It hurts that she can’t do that and as she’s listening she feels her eyes burn with tears. She refuses to let them fall. She’s not the one who gets to cry in this scenario and yet her eyes refuse to give up their unshed tears.

There’s one last voicemail from a day ago and she clicks on it expecting it to be like the others but much to her surprise you’re talking about her again.

“I think I’m mad because I can’t even bring myself to hate you for it. I know you’ve probably got some shit going on. I understand that, trust me. But- I don't know you could’ve… maybe it’s too much of me to ask you to fill me in on the situation- or let me know when you’d be back… Is this goodbye?” 

 Your static voice rings out into the silence and Nat hates how you sound. Reserved- almost accepting. Like you’ve convinced yourself she’s never going to respond again and she hates it. She hates that she made you so insecure that you think she isn't spending every hour thinking of you and how to get back to you. 

The sound of your voice fills her with even more determination as she begins redrafting her court argument. She was going to come back to you, you just had to wait for her a little longer.

Pt.28

A/n: Aww Nat :( ~ Starry

---Taglist--

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[anqelically]

IKIGAI | OSAMU DAZAI X FEM!READER

002. FLIGHT JA815S

CHAPTER SUMMARY: An airplane is in need of saving because of the Azure Apostle, so the agency saves the passengers with the help of a young girl on the flight

CHAPTER WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 1.7K words

SERIES INTRODUCTION | CH1 | CH3

FOR THE NEXT HALF HOUR, Y/N was working as if it were a normal day, even though there was seldom a normal day at the agency. An ideal day, one would say. She sorted through some paperwork and checked any e-mails as they came in.

She noticed how a few of them were insulting the agency for their previously failed rescue of four innocent people. That incident is what led Kunikida to be in the headlines of the local newspaper.

After people recognized him as an Armed Detective Agency member, some took time out of their day to stand outside of the agency to yell or throw things at members. Y/N could recall how her eye almost got hit by a small rock. She was glad that Ranpo was there to block her face and catch the rock with his hat.

All the hate e-mails were immediately trashed, but the senders remained unblocked. Even if they insulted the agency, they were still people of Japan. And as long as they were, the agency would try to help them if they needed it.

Y/N thought they received another complaint when her laptop dinged. She checked the e-mail to see that it was not a complaint, but a message from the Azure Apostle himself.

She was quick to call over the closest worker, "Oneesan, look!"

Dear Sir,

I am contacting you to discuss a third request. Passenger airline flight JA815S is currently midflight. I have taken the liberty of sending an interference signal to the aircraft's engine and yoke that will disable their functions. I would like for you to remove the device from the aircraft and save the passengers. Thank you for your understanding.

Yours sincerely,

The Azure Apostle

Yosano looked over Y/N's shoulder to read the message that seemed to be directed to Kunikida, considering that he was leading the case and neither of them would be referred to as "Sir".

"More? You have got to be kidding," the woman groaned. She pulled out her phone to contact Kunikida. "Y/N, can you trace the email to the sender's location?"

"I can try," she began to type, "but you know I'm not good at stuff like that."

As the woman predicted, she failed to trace the location from where the e-mail was sent. She was able to send the message to Kunikida, but that was something anyone at the agency could do easily. However, setting up a three-way call between three completely different devices from her computer seemed to be something Y/N could do, and the others couldn't.

A video call from a passenger on the targeted airplane made it through to the police. Since the Armed Detective Agency was in charge of the case and not Yokohama's police, they transferred the call over to Y/N's computer. From there, she was able to talk to the little girl on the screen.

She had to be no older than 9 years old. Her brown hair was cut into a short bob, and her teary eyes peeked out from underneath her bangs.

Yosano and Ranpo sat nearby as Y/N talked with the little girl. The group of detectives watched her tremble as she stared into the camera. Although they could see her, she could not see them.

"Hi, I'm someone from the Armed Detective Agency. My name's Y/N, what's yours?" Y/N began the process of adding Kunikida's phone to the call on a separate monitor.

"Ch-Chiyo," the girl responded.

"Here, let me turn my camera on so you can see me," Y/N's face appeared on the screen beside Chiyo's. She gave the young one a soft smile, "Chiyo-chan, I need you to tell me what's happening. Can you do that?"

"O-Okay... Well, um, Mommy w-wasn't feeling well, so I'm talking f-for her. The p-plane is falling... s-so fast... Everybody's screaming-" a feminine-sounding yell cut her off. Chiyo jumped, "I-I'm scared. Please help!"

"Help is on its way, I promise. Just continue talking with me, okay? The more I know about what's happening there, the faster we can make things better for your mommy."

While Chiyo continued to describe what was going on, Kunikida's phone joined the call. A box with his name popped up on the screen, indicating that he and Dazai could listen and see both Natsuo and Chiyo.

"Did the pilots, the people in charge of the airplane, say anything else?" Y/N interrogated.

"They s-said the engine stopped moving, and th-the steering wheel d-doesn't work anymore, either."

"You hear that, Kunikida?"

"Yes," he spoke, "I heard. Doesn't sound good, obviously."

"Are we gonna d-die? E-everyone says we're gonna die... I'm scared. Mommy's not moving or a-answering me. P-please, please help us.." Chiyo cried further.

Y/N was going to try to comfort her, but all the words she wanted to say died in her throat. She was never good at comforting others, especially since she couldn't even recall the feeling of being comforted as she grew up. The warmth of comfort was something she felt only after she joined the Armed Detective Agency. But even so, she still wasn't good at providing it to others. "You'll be okay" and "It will get better" can only work so much.

Unexpectedly to Y/N, another voice joined the call, "Hello, little one. Can you hear me?"

"Y-yes."

Dazai then continued, "We here are airplane experts. There's nothing to worry about anymore. We're going to fix the plane. What's your name, little miss?"

"Chiyo."

"Chiyo, everything's going to be okay. Got any snacks with you?"

"Mommy g-gave me this piece of candy."

"Candy, huh? I love candy, too. It's so sweet, and it really helps you relax, doesn't it?"

"Dazai-" Kunikida's voice was cut off.

"I've got this..." Dazai sounded confident. "Chiyo, first, I want you to really take your time enjoying that piece of candy. After that, I'm going to need you to take that device you're talking into and bring it to the captain's room. Do you know where the captain's room is?" Chiyo wiped away her tears and nodded. "Don't worry. There's nobody screaming in there, and I bet your mommy will be feeling better in no time."

"B-but I... I can't go alone. I can't leave Mommy behind."

"Hey, Chiyo-chan, do you remember what I said earlier? We're here to help you, your mommy, and everyone else. I just need you to bring what you're talking on to the pilot of the plane. Can you go there and give it to them for us?"

The brown-haired girl stared at the side for a few moments before she took out the candy she said she had. She shakily placed it in her mouth, her hands still trembling as she picked up the communication device. Chiyo began to walk towards the cockpit.

While she walked, Y/N spoke to the other two on the line, "Do you want me to stay on, or do you think you guys can handle it?"

"Oh, we can definitely handle it," Dazai spoke. "But once this is all over, I never wanna partner with Kunikida again. Wanna pair up with me instead?"

"Enough with the unrelated talk! The case always comes first," Kunikida scolded.

"Oh, come on~ I'm trying to lighten up the mood."

"The mood is the way it is for a reason."

Y/N chuckled, never responding to Dazai's question, "Well then, I'll turn off now. Just ring me if you need anything from us here. Please stay safe, okay?"

"Of course."

"See you later, Y/N-chan."

Letting out a breath she unintentionally withheld, Y/N leaned back in her chair. Although most people would overlook it, she did not. After meeting Dazai earlier, Y/N didn't expect him to talk to Chiyo so easily. He was able to comfort her and have her bring the communication device to the pilot in one go. It was common for someone to comfort another, yet Y/N felt embarrassed that it was difficult for her to do so.

"Don't think about it," Yosano's voice reached Y/N's ears. She looked at the older woman, who continued, "Not everyone is good at everything. There is always a multitude of weaknesses within a person. There's no need to be embarrassed."

"You're reading my mind again," Y/N whined, her hands covering her face.

"You're easy to read," Ranpo cut in, a lollipop in hand. "You make all these facial expressions every time you feel something new. Your eyes soften when you're happy, you furrow your brows when you're sad, and you tilt your head when you're confused. You're very animated in general."

"Don't worry, we'll work on your poker face," the doctor rested her hands on Y/N's shoulder. "Otherwise, we can't ever play, and that's just a shame."

"Even if I don't know how to play, isn't it bad to gamble in the first place?" Y/N raised a brow.

"We gamble paperwork and, rarely, drinks. It's harmless."

"But I've never seen Oniisan lay a finger on any paperwork..."

Ranpo smirked, "That's because the greatest detective never loses."

"For now," Yosano challenged. "I'll beat ya in a game when you least expect it."

"Is that so? I might retire when the time comes."

"Isn't Dazai-san really smart too? What he manages to beat you, Oniisan?" Y/N questioned.

"No way."

"Long shot."

The youngest murmured, "That was fast."

Some time passed before Ranpo suggested, "Let's go bother the president. Hello~! We're here!"

Y/N and Yosano deadpanned when the detective slammed the door to Fukuzawa's office open with no shame. They briefly glanced at each other before they sighed, following the man inside. If Ranpo wasn't bothered to talk about the Azure Apostle, they were sure the problem would be resolved.

"Fukuzawa-sama!" Y/N greeted the man.

"Y/N," he acknowledged.

The young woman smiled before she sat down next to Ranpo. Yosano sat down too, and they fell into a conversation that lasted until Kunikida and Dazai returned.

They had a couple of bruises and scratches, but they succeeded in preventing the plane from crashing.

WRITTEN: 01/21/2023

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

i wanted to get this over with asap so i can start writing an original case that y/n and dazai are going to be taking care of. let's hope it turns out well 👍🏻

@seneon @chuuyrr @kentopedia @cloudwisp @aureatchi

[savethegrishaverse]

Don't forget the impact of sending physical mail to Netflix!

As our campaign to #SaveShadowAndBone and #SixOfCrowsSpinoff surges forward, we continue to encourage everyone to send physical mail to Netflix! The impact of a tangible, heartfelt message arriving on their desks daily is immeasurable. It turns our passion into a visual reminder of the dedicated community rallying for our beloved Grishaverse.

Why physical mail matters:

Tangible Presence: Emails can get filtered out and lost in the digital shuffle, but a physical letter stands out and must be sorted by hand. It's a tangible representation of our fandom.

Visual Impact: Picture Netflix receiving a steady flow of letters, postcards, and unique creations like origami crows. The visual impact is hard to ignore!

Daily Call to Action: Each piece of mail is not just a letter; it's a daily call to action, a persistent plea to save our show!

And don't worry, we've got you covered if you're international: Fans outside the U.S. have used Postable.com to send customized postcards and cards for less than the price of a cup of coffee. This company is located in the U.S., and the cost covers any custom printing as well as the fee to send mail within the U.S. (no matter where the sender is located). We love smart solutions!

How to send mail to Netflix

Send a letter or postcard to one (or all!) of the following addresses to join the dozens of items being mailed off to Netflix every day!

Mailing Address #1:

Sunset Bronson Studios

ATTN: __________

5800 W. Sunset Boulevard

Los Angeles, CA 90028

Choose one of the names below for ATTN:

Bela Bajaria: Chief Content Officer

Cole Galvin: Director of Original Series

Jinny Howe: VP, Original Series

Mailing Address #2:

1341 Vine St

Los Angeles, CA 90028

Mailing Address #3:

1350 Ivar Ave

Los Angeles, CA 90028

Don’t forget to add “USA” to the end of each address if you are sending mail from abroad!

[xddaengx]

quarantine : the series ⎜intro

✧ Pairings: fwb!yoongi x reader ⎜ eventually ot7 x reader

✧ Genre:  isolation au ⎜ non idol bts ⎜ forced proximity ⎜ apocolypse au ⎜zombie au ⎜poly bts au ⎜

✧ Warnings: mention of character death ⎜mentions of suicide ⎜ friends to lovers? ⎜ friends with benefits ⎜ friends grown apart ⎜ mentions of a virus ⎜

✧ Word Count: 3.1k

✧ Summary: it was supposed to be a trip to remember your past, to commemorate the person you loved. but you never expected it to be the end of the world.

✧ Author’s Note: this was something I wrote a while ago that has been sitting in my drafts, I have been really struggling with writing lately and thought that going through some old works would help, if people seem to like this maybe I'll continue it.

+

+

“So, you sent one to everyone?” The voice whispers from besides you, as you sit on the bed looking at the mass email that was just confirmed to be sent from your phone. 

“Yes. It’s important that everyone is there, he would be pissed if I missed out on a single person just because we weren’t getting along well.” You huff back throwing the phone onto the pillow besides your head before flopping onto your back, the male besides you letting out a gruff chuckle. 

“You’re doing the right thing…” He says quietly placing a soft kiss to your shoulder, “He would be proud of you for bringing everyone back together like this. God knows I haven’t seem some of the others as often as I should be.” He finishes, trailing a few more kisses up your shoulder until he places to final one on the underside of your chin. 

“I should really be getting ready for work.” He says quietly, his mouth not leaving the spot on your cheek where he places another kiss. 

“Yes, you should be. Joon’s going to be pissed if you’re late to work again. And you’ve been here past the time limit anyway.” You respond, finally forcing yourself to roll out of your warm bed, pulling the first T-shirt out of your chest of draws, throwing it on. “Besides I have to present my new script today before we go away and I don’t want to be a mess because I’m already late, so get your toosh out of my bed and get going.” You add, trying not to stare as your partner rolls out of bed, moving over to you, placing one more chaste kiss on your lips before patting your bum and walking out of the room. 

“You are so not fair sometimes, yoongi.” You huff, pushing your matted hair out of your face. 

+

+

“Good morning Mr Kim, your coffee as always. Everyone is seated in meeting room 3 ready to discuss the new drafts.” You say quickly with a strained smile, as you follow the broad shouldered man down the hall to the meeting room, his hand gently taking the coffee from you with a smile. 

“Thank you, I expect your own draft has been prepared as well.” You nod quickly patting the pile of papers in your hand with a grin. 

“Locked and loaded.” You respond, a small grin growing on your bosses face. 

“Good, after the meeting, I would like you to postpone all other meetings, I got this strange email today and need to plan my next vacation.” Mr Kim says with a sad smile, you nod quickly adding it into your calendar. 

“I’m sure the sender of the email will be happy to tell you that the location has already been booked and is just waiting for confirmation from all parties involved on how many people to be expecting.” You say quietly as you stop a few steps behind him. 

“Well, that is good to hear. I hope the sender knows that I will be attending no matter what. Please send her a reply with my dietary requirements.” He says with a light chuckle before throwing open the meeting room door, his boss persona back in place. 

“Thank you, Jin.” You mumble, wiping the last of any invisible dust and crinkles in your clothes before following him into the meeting room. 

+

+

“You’re script in there was pretty great. I’ve already got some ideas for the shows soundtrack, once I get some drafts going I can send them to you.” You turn away from the coffee machine, the light haired music producer standing behind you with a copy of your pilot script in hand. 

“That would be very much appreciated, Hoseok. Thank you.” You give him a quick smile, turning back to take your mug out of the automatic coffee dispenser. 

“Do you know who else is coming? Is the whole crew going to be back together?” The words stop you in your tracks, you turn back to the producer slowly, shrugging your shoulders.

“I sent the invited to everyone, it’s debatable on who will actually show up. Taehyung is just so busy these days I doubt he could make it, but as long as most of us are there it should be fine.” You respond in a hushed tone, watching Hoseok’s face drop. “But who knows, he might surprise us all, I’m assuming you’ll be coming?” You add, the hope in your statement putting a bit more light in the producers eyes. 

“Definitely, I wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world, I hope the rest of us are thinking the same.” 

“So do I.”

+

+

Throughout the day your phone pings seven times, with seven replies to your email. 

Seven confirmations that they would be there.

Seven confirmations that settle the feeling in your chest slowly, your fingers sending back a quick thanks to them all, with the details of your booking and what time to show up. 

“Kitten? Are you home yet? Or should I just surprise you by waiting naked on your bed again?” Yoongi’s voice rings out through the apartment. You roll your eyes, giving a short grunt in response, pushing yourself out of your study and down the hall to where Yoongi waits on your couch. 

“You know you have you’re own apartment you can go to? Why do you always come back to mine?” You hiss, at the male who sits on your couch his arms open and lap waiting. As much as you feel like continuing your normal bickering, you can’t help the small smile etching onto your face, falling into his waiting arms with a sigh. 

“So Jin and Hobi said yes?” The question is simple enough but brings another sigh out of your lips, you nod, your hands moving to Yoongi’s forehead pushing the sweaty hair out of his eyes. “Joon said he would have to shuffle a few things around but will be able to come, might not be able to stay the whole two weeks though, having a business to run and all.” Yoongi adds, his eyes closing lightly as you continue to comb the hair away from his face. 

“That would be fine, frankly I wouldn’t mind if you all only came for the ceremony and then left me alone with the beautiful cabin and forest.” You says, a teasing tone in your voice as Yoongi pouts his eyes finally opening. 

“You wouldn’t want me to stay with you? Think of how much fun we would have?” You can tell by the grin growing on his face, that he is dropping hints, not very subtle. 

“Oh yes, at my brothers memorial we will be having lot of fun.” You coo, your hands resuming their ministrations in Yoongi’s hair. A small huff leaves his lips and your instantly know what it’s supposed to mean.  ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’  You smile at him again so he can tell you were joking, leaning down slowly, you hands steadying his face as you brush you lips paper light against his. 

“I know what you meant, and I appreciate it.” You respond, placing another light kiss over his lips, a quiet groan escaping him as you don’t give him the pleasure of a proper kiss. “You should really shower, you smell like smoke and cheeseburgers.” You lie, he smells great, as always, like rain and vanilla and a little bit of burgers but you aren’t picky. 

Yoongi rubs his hands up and down your waist before nodding, lightly pushing you on the cushion besides him so he can slip down your hallway to the bathroom. The two of you had met in a bar a few years ago, and hit it off straight away. Though neither of you would admit it was nothing more than a friends with benefits arrangement, it was safe to say that it was getting more serious by the day. He had officially placed a toothbrush in your bathroom and stocked a whole draw in your apartment with clothes. 

It wasn’t until halfway through your arrangement that you realised Yoongi was a mutual friend, your brother bringing drunk Yoongi to your apartment one night, when your house was closest to the club they were at. Yoongi in his drunked-ness hadn’t been able to hide much, almost jumping you as soon as he walked through the door, though you managed to dodge him until he fell asleep it was easy for Yoongi’s best friend to notice what was going on. 

“You know him don’t you?” You brother asked you, his grin tight on his face as he watched you place a cold face washer on Yoongi’s face. You nod, deciding words were not going to work in your favour at the moment. 

“When did you two meet?” 

“My 20th birthday. The guy I went home with, was Yoongi. Namjoon was there too, he knows everything.” You finally spit out, knowing trying to break it easily would hurt your brothers feeling more. 

“Joon knew.” He says quietly.

“Look, why don’t you head home, I can take care of him and send him your way in the morning for a proper scolding.” You say, guiding your brother to the door, trying not to make eye contact with him. 

“Just don’t let him hurt you, I’d hate to have to beat up one of my friends.” Your brother says with a more genuine smile, kissing your forehead lightly before stumbling his way down the stairs of your apartment climbing into the back of a taxi to find his way home. 

“I think it’s time for some pizza and a good movie.” You say to yourself as you try to shake away the memories. What would your brother be thinking now about you and Yoongi?  

Would he even be surprised? 

+

+

 “God it’s feel like ages since I’ve been here.” Yoongi exclaims letting out a little whistle at the sight of the cabin in front of the two of you. You sigh quickly holding the small box tighter against your chest as you pull your backpack out of the front seat of the car. 

Yoongi grins at you over the roof of the car before rushing to the back seat to grab out the two suitcases sitting there. Carrying all the luggage to the house, you unlock the front door, letting out another sigh at the sight of the cabin. 

“It’s exactly how I remember it.” You say quietly, placing the small box on the entrance table, helping Yoongi lug the two suitcases down the hall to the bedrooms. “We should probably plan to sleep separately, for the sake of appearances.” You say quietly to him, he nods, almost as if he had been thinking the same thing, already turning towards the room at the end of the hall, the master suite with your suitcase in hand. 

“I’m figuring since you’ll be the only girl that you’ll want the master, with the ensuite.” He says lifting your suitcase onto the large queen bed, giving your forehead a quick kiss before carrying his own suitcase to one of the earlier rooms with two double beds pushed against the walls. “I wonder who will bunk with me.” He says with a grin. 

“I feel like it’s only fair if I take the other bed in here. I don’t really speak to the others very much anymore and I’d much prefer to sleep with someone I know won’t snore.” Namjoon’s voice is clear but soft from the entry hallway, tugging his own oversized suitcase behind him. He stops in front of where you stand, still glancing around the cabin. 

“It’s good to see you again. I hope work’s been treating you well.” He says, stopping in front of you. He looks at you for a few more moments, before opening his arms wide and motioning for you to come forwards with his hands. 

“It’s good to see you too, Joon.” Your voice comes out thin and whisper quiet, as his arms engulf you, his hands rubbing softly at your back. “He would be really happy to know that you came.” Namjoon rubs your back a few more times before taking a step back and pulling his suitcase into the room with Yoongi. 

“I’m assuming by the taxi driving down the road, that Namjoon beat us to it.” A voice calls out from the door way, the heavy thumping of a suitcase being pulled up the stairs following. “Three hours of carpooling with Jin is a bad idea, I should’ve brought my own car.” You hear Hoseok grumble as he finally makes it to the top of the stairs. Hoseok’s gives you a small wave before shuffling into the room besides yours taking the larger bed in the corner, Jin following soon after, stopping in front of you, his eyebrows pulled together tightly. 

“Is something wrong?” You question, noting the way he fiddles with his fingers a few times. 

“I just… Is it appropriate to hug you or is it going to be weird? I mean I know I’m your boss but I knew your brother pretty well, and it just feels weird to not greet you like a fri… oh, well I guess that solves it.” You manage to stop Jin rumbling by stepping into his arms wrapping your own tightly around his torso, giving him a quick squeeze before letting go. 

“We aren’t at work, we can be casual here.” You say with a firm nod, Jin copying your motions before shuffling into the room with Hoseok.   You hear Yoongi walk up behind you before your notice the two figures lingering in the door way. 

“Well look who we have here… the dancer and the model.” Yoongi grins at the two younger boys. They both look around the cabin in surprise. Their eyes eventually falling to where you stand. You lift your hand and give them a shy wave motioning to the room across the hall from Yoongi’s. 

“This room is still free, there should be three beds in there, so you’ll have to room with Jungkook.” You mumble, Yoongi’s hands coming coming to rub the sides of your shoulder, both Jimin’s and Taehyung eyes following the motions, before they shuffle into the room, whispering to themselves. 

“Speaking of the little devil, where is he?” Yoongi asks into your ear, his lips just grazing the skin, you shudder quickly, smiling as he places a wet smooch on your cheek. 

“He said he had some things to finish up before coming, so he won’t be here until after the ceremony. He said he was happy for us to just do it without him.” You answer, moving towards the small box sitting on the entry bench. You pick up the box before giving Yoongi a quick nod, moving towards the front door. 

“Let’s go ladies, we got some things to do.” 

+

+

“How much further?” 

“It’s really not far, Yoongi. Just at the top of this hill. The fireplace should still be there.” The seven of you had been climbing the side of the mountain for almost an hour now, trying to get the the place your brother had requested his ashes be spread. 

‘The small bonfire spot at the top of the hill behind the cabin’

That’s what he had written in his final note, the letter telling you all the instructions on how to help him pass to the afterlife. You reach the shallow hole in the dirt first, shrugging your backpack off and onto the ground besides the fire pit, pulling out the small speaker placing it on a log besides the fire. 

Everyone slowly makes their way to where they had sat the last time you had all gathered at the cabin, a few years ago. Two empty spaces left open for your missing members. 

“I guess, I’ll start everything off… He would have been so happy to see us all gathered here like this today. He had been trying to get us out here every autumn for an annual camping trip and usually we let our everyday lives interrupt, or at least I know I did.” You pause for a second, pulling the small cardboard box out of your bag holding it tightly to your chest. 

“It said in his note, that once we were all together he wanted us to spread his ashes with the wind, to let his essence spread throughout the mountain side. Jungkook couldn’t make it out till tomorrow but thankfully with the power of technology will still be able to witness the spreading.” You continue motioning over to where Hoseok holds his phone towards the group, Jungkook giving everyone a quick wave over FaceTime. 

“So I suppose if no one has anything left to say, we should just do it right?” You ask the group getting a few nods in agreement, other people just watching you closely. You take a deep breath, opening the top of the box, a small plastic sachet sitting inside, your bothers body, a pile of ash inside.  

“God, this is so fucked up. I can’t believe this is actually happening.” Jimin says quietly from where he stands by the empty bonfire. Everyone seems to grow tense at his words, not knowing what else to say. 

“Well, it is happening, it’s not like we can do anything but let it happen at this stage.” You huff, moving further up the hill so the ashes go downhill with the wind, away from your group. Jimin cringes a bit as you move away from the group, getting a small slap to the shoulder from the taller boy besides him. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that.” He apologises quickly, you just shrug finally turning the bag to face towards the ground, letting the ashes fall out getting carried by the wind. As the seven of you watch the ashes continue down the hill, a swear word rings out from the phone in Hoseok’s hand, as well as a loud alarm from the other phones in the vicinity. 

“Attention to all citizens, we are currently experiencing an extreme outbreak of a air Bourne virus. It is advised that all citizens remain inside and do not move around for the next 72 hours, please follow instructions on the offical government website, and remain update on the situation, as we prepare for the virus to spread rapidly.” Yoongi reads out from the phone in front of him, he sighs and tucks it back into his pocket. 

“I guess we’re going to have to quarantine while we’re out here.” Jimin adds, everyone letting out a loud sigh, knowing how well the last lock down went. 

“Wait…” You huff, locking eyes with the boy on Hoseok’s screen, “What about Jungkook?” 

[3hobbitsinatrenchcoat]

Today is a perfect day to post this nonsensical email my dad got a couple years ago:

I do not know what is better: thou could have dollars or Are you inflamed by the post

Regardless, the mix of thine and thou alongside U and biz is BIZZARE and I can't stop laughing.

Photo ID under cut

Photo ID: three images screenshot from an email that reads What a great day, A novel appointment of Boxing Supervisor of our logistic community has been established. Our business offers a very respectable payment and training case to set thou as a partner of our growing and heavily effective partnership.

We unearthed thine contacts via the CareerBuilder online database and ponder that your craftsmanship can be highly profitable for the business. If only ye are called by our concern's offer, would you please give an e-mail to our biz so our comradeship's human Resource leaders are informed about you to report you more precise post's description.

Pay cheque: $4,000 a 1 month.

The suggestion for workers which would like to act from apartment. If U can naturally do the job at thine house starting from 9 AM ending with 5 PM, thou could have dollars. The essence of our partnership's location is to operate with bales. What shall be thine direct capacities: accommodate bundles from single sender, make another pack for them based on our company's guidelines, and to forward them to further organization. Thou will be a perfect suitor for said appointment if you all are a just started to be a mother, a learner of Internet method of studying, retired, unable to work a full day outdoors persona, or the persona who objects against the need to exit place of residence to do function.

You all shall not be obliged to deal with too heavy clots. Mainly, you will see frocks or amusements inside the boxes. Instructions is established without payment. Everything ye should need to be employed by us is a laptop, access to the Internet, & printer to be capable of printing papers. How much you will obtain depends exclusively on ya'll - the more time ye function, the more money you obtain. On average, folks which simply start off functioning for our comradeship obtain approx. 1000 bucks per week.

Are you inflamed by the post? Feel free to give a letter to our business via electronic mail. Also, bear in mind about being at house from nine-hundred hours to 17 o'clock PM is a needed condition to be able to be employed to the mentioned function (or, the mentioned stance isn't for ye, unluckily).

j

[quietblueriver]

Still Bright to Me (Kate/Yelena, 1/5)

Rewatched Hawkeye and this happened. I love them so much.

Post canon.

Kate's struggling, so Clint sends some backup in the form of a (former?) black widow assassin, who offers Kate a trade: she'll protect Kate from the tracksuits and Kate will show her the best of New York. Their deal ends, but their friendship doesn't, and suddenly Kate's pretty sure it's becoming something else entirely. Something big and scary and really, really good.

Read below or on AO3.

-

Kate could almost pretend this was a normal Tuesday morning. 

She walked into Bishop Security, tossed her bag behind the front desk, and took a right toward her mom’s office. She could see her through the glass walls, legs crossed as she looked over a set of files spread on the coffee table, a Bishop Security coffee mug waiting near her right hand on a cream coaster. Her suit was familiar, a favorite–navy with white pinstripes, wide legs, a white silk blouse. 

And then, of course, visible between the hem of her pants and the black leather of her heel, the shining black box strapped to her ankle, with its two tiny white lights signaling Eleanor Bishop’s location to the federal government at all times. 

It wasn’t a normal Tuesday morning. 

Her mom looked up as she got close, a tight smile working its way onto her face, and Kate felt the warring urges to run, cry, and vomit. Instead of any of that, Eleanor Bishop’s daughter did what she had been taught to do and kept her shit together, her own fake smile glued in place and her hands steady. 

Eleanor stood as Kate pushed open the door, walking around the coffee table and opening her arms. “I’ve missed you.” 

The words rang more than a little hollow in the face of the two sentence email Eleanor sent to set up this meeting and the total radio silence that preceded it. She’d been out on bail within like a day, which Kate knew because she got a Christmas NYT alert with a courthouse shot of her mom looking perfectly put together as she made her way down the steps to the towncar. (Nate won that round of Mario Kart.) 

From her mom? Not a word. Nothing until a week into the new year, when Kate did a double take at the sender on an email notification with the subject line: Meeting Tuesday. 

So yeah, Kate didn’t feel particularly missed. She felt like an hour on Eleanor’s work calendar. 

Still, she wrapped her arms around her mother, a stiff, quiet, awkward hug that she wasn’t sad to break. 

The tension between them hurt in a way Kate couldn’t have prepared herself for, and despite all her Bishop training, it took more than a little effort to hold back the tears pressing at the back of her eyes as she settled in the chair across from Eleanor. Eleanor, who, in addition to being a pretty major player in the organized crime scene in New York and several other major cities, was still her mom. 

It might never have been easy between them the way it had been between her and her dad, but she’d never doubted that her mom loved her. Not really. Not until she looked her in the eye and said, cold and hard and distant enough that Kate wondered if she regretted running that car through the window and into Kingpin, “Is this what heroes do? Arrest their mother on Christmas?” Not until she followed that up with silence loud enough to make Kate wonder if she’d become Hawkeye and lost her second parent on the same day. 

“How are you?” 

The question snapped Kate back to the moment, and she blinked away flashing blue lights and the smell of smoke and the pain of a cracked rib as she sobbed in the shower. 

“Fine,” she said on instinct, twirling the silver ring on her index finger. It was bullshit, but so was the question. Eleanor’s eyes locked on her ring and Kate stopped twisting, stood and got a bottle of water from the fridge under the counter, stared at the marble as she uncapped it and took a slow sip. 

“Kate.” 

Kate took a deep breath and another sip of water before she turned around and met Eleanor’s eyes. 

“Mom.” 

She could see her mom’s jaw grinding, considered very seriously walking out and calling Clint and going back to Iowa for as long as she fucking could. Laura had offered and meant it. Clint had nodded beside her and meant it just as much when he said, “Call anytime.” She’d only been back for like a day anyway; her stuff was still packed and PD would be pumped to be back on the farm. 

She didn’t leave. She sat back down in the chair. She wasn’t even close to sure that was the right decision. 

Her mom grabbed the small remote on the coffee table and hit a button and suddenly the glass behind them was frosted, she and her mother in a more private space. Chest tightening unpleasantly, Kate’s mind ran everything through a new filter. How much of that interaction had been calculated? How much of the hug, of Kate’s presence, of Eleanor’s smile, had been meant for the employees still at Bishop Security? For the attorneys Kate knew were waiting in a conference room just across the hall? For whoever might leak a picture or a quote to one of the reporters hanging around? For whoever her mom might’ve paid to do that? 

She pushed the tears away for another minute, let anger take the lead. It was, after all, much higher on the list of acceptable emotions than hurt. “What am I doing here, mom? What do you need from me?” 

It was hurt, though, that flashed across Eleanor’s face, brief but obvious, and shame bubbled in Kate’s stomach. She didn’t take it back. She didn’t look away either, watched as her mom schooled her features into something neutral and reached for a folder on the table, opening it and turning it toward Kate. 

“This is the information on your trust fund. There are two numbers on the last page, one for my attorney and one for my accountant. I’ve worked with them both for a long time. Call them and they’ll help you get the account handled.”

Kate took the folder and tucked it into the side of the chair. “Thanks.” 

It was a relief. She was, for the first time in her life, worried about money, and it sucked. She’d been working out how long she could make it on what little she had in her own account from her Bishop Security “paychecks” plus an envelope of cash Clint or Laura had snuck into her bag before she left the farm and refused to discuss when Kate found it. 

Her mother nodded. “It’s yours. It has always been yours. Whatever happens with my assets and the company, they can’t touch that. Or the apartment.”

Kate knew, vaguely, that she had a trust fund from her dad’s parents. She was from the kind of money, at least on her dad’s side, that meant her grandparents had set her up from the day she was born. She had never bothered with it before, couldn’t even access it until her last birthday, but she was really fucking glad for it now. 

And for whatever laws stopped her mom (and her dad, maybe, but she really didn’t like thinking about that either) from touching it. 

“Okay.”

Her mom sighed, lips turning down in that way they did when Kate disappointed her. It was a familiar look, and it was how Kate knew the next words from her mouth were the starting point of a negotiation, rather than an end in themselves. 

“I’m sorry, Kate, if what I said that night hurt you. And for taking some time to get in touch. I was angry, which I think is understandable.”

When Kate didn’t immediately respond, Eleanor added, “You obviously weren’t ready to talk either.”

Yeah. There it was. An accusation dressed as an observation. An invitation for Kate to apologize. 

Instead of guilt, Kate felt Laura’s arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders as she cried late on Christmas night, the photo from the Times article shining up at them from Kate’s phone screen on the coffee table. Heard the soft, “Oh, honey,” as Kate whispered her fears aloud, rasped and broken questions about whether her mom would ever want to talk to her again, whether she should call, whether it would hurt worse if she didn’t answer. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me. You made it pretty clear on Christmas Eve I’d disappointed you, and then I heard from the Times about your bail before I heard from you. Wasn’t really interested in leaving a voicemail.”

Eleanor’s frown deepened, deepened further when Kate didn’t flinch. Or, Hawkeye didn’t flinch. Kate would cry later, but her mom didn’t need to know that. Didn’t deserve to know that. 

Eleanor sighed, and her words had a resigned quality to them on the surface, but Kate knew veiled anger when she heard it. “I understand you probably didn’t know what you were doing when you made that call to the police. I know you can be rash. Impulsive. That’s my fault. Confidence is one thing, but I clearly should’ve reined you in a long time ago.”

Kate bit her tongue and started thinking about trick arrows, reminded herself that she could leave. 

“But now, Kate.” She gestured at her ankle, in the vague direction of her army of lawyers a few rooms over. “Now we’re all paying for your choices. Don’t you see that?”

Yeah. She could leave. Kate took a deep breath and another sip of water and leaned forward. 

“No. I don’t. I see you paying for the choices you made and trying to blame me for it.” Anger slashed ugly across her mother’s face, eyes sharp and chin jutting out in a way that Kate knew her own did in a challenge. “I don’t regret what I did. I wish I hadn’t had to. I wish you hadn’t…” Kate shook her head and stood. Her mom matched her. 

“Katherine Elizabeth Bishop, you do not walk away from me.” 

Her voice was tight and low and Kate had heard it like this a few times in her life, but it had never scared her before. She fought a sob and squared her shoulders. 

“If you were who I thought you were, and I was alone in a room with someone who had done the things you’ve done, you would tell me to run .” Kate shrugged, bent to take the folder. “Guess I know better now. Thanks for this.” She didn’t have it in her to hold her mom’s eyes but pride and resentment and molten anger at least kept her voice steady as she added, “Merry Christmas, by the way. One for the books.”

She turned to go, made it two steps before she felt the hand on her shoulder. She had broken the hold and turned, hands out and eyes assessing her mom like a threat, before she could stop herself. Her mom understood, if the look in her eyes was real, and she jerked her hand back. Kate wasn’t sure whether Eleanor was ashamed or afraid that Kate might break it, and fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How did they get here.

“Kate. Just…” She stepped back, sat. “I’m sorry. Give me two more minutes. And then,” she swallowed, and Kate saw her mom, just her mom, sad and exhausted, “I promise you can go. It’s important. Please.”

Kate hesitated for a second but walked back to the chair, perched on the edge. 

“Thank you.” 

The relief was genuine, and Kate nodded, gripped at the folder in her hands. Her mom cleared her throat and took another folder but kept it herself, thumbing at the tab. 

“I’m going to go away for a little while.” Kate tensed, eyed the ankle monitor before she could stop herself. Eleanor’s eyes followed hers and she shook her head. “No. No. They’re facilitating it. Fisk…Well, things are complicated right now, but he’s not a forgiving man.”

“I thought he was…out of the picture. For now.” It was one of the only reasons Clint hadn’t pushed harder for her to stay in Iowa. He’d heard through channels that Fisk had been shot. That Maya had shot him. That the whole organization was a mess and Maya was on the run and Fisk might actually be gone, although Clint said not to bank on that. 

Eleanor sighed. “Nobody knows for certain his condition. And it’s true that they appear to be distracted right now, but they won’t forget about me, especially if they think I’m cooperating.” 

Kate sucked in a breath. “Are you? Cooperating?”

Eleanor smiled ruefully. “The case against Fisk is much bigger than me. He…well, I’m honestly surprised there even is one, given the number of people in the city on his payroll or his hit list, but it seems like his influence hasn’t reached certain corners of the federal government.

“In any case, as far as he or anyone else knows, I’m not cooperating, but that doesn’t mean he wants to take chances.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Eleanor shook her head and smiled an almost fond smile, although it had sharper edges than Kate was used to. “No, Hawkeye, I didn’t.” She leaned forward, extended her hand over the table between them. “Kate, these people are dangerous. I’m going away, at least through the trial, and I would ask you to come, but…”

“I won’t.”

“Right.”

Eleanor watched as Kate leaned back, began twirling her ring again. 

“So, I need you to be careful. Call Clint Barton. Call…whoever. I have people from the company who…”

“Mom.”

“Let me finish, Kate. I have people from the company who are and will continue doing minimally invasive work to keep you safe.”

Kate raised her eyebrows and Eleanor ground her teeth but did not snap as Kate said, “I have no interest in anyone from Bishop Security keeping tabs on me. Even minimally invasive ones.”

Unyielding and unapologetic, her mom said, “I didn’t tell you to ask for your permission. I told you so that you wouldn’t shoot Ari or the company SUV he’s driving when you eventually noticed he was keeping track of you.”

At one point, the tone would’ve made her hesitate, but today it just pissed her off. Kate met her mom’s eyes as she responded. “Yeah, okay.” She made a note to look Ari up in the company directory. “I won’t shoot him, but I will lose him, and if he keeps trying, I just made a knockout arrow that works pretty well.”

Her mom rubbed at the spot at the base of her neck that meant she had the beginnings of a tension headache. 

“What do you want me to do here, Kate? This is serious, and whatever you might think of me, I’m still your mother, and I love you. I won’t just leave you.”

What Kate wanted was for her mom to not be facing a list of charges so long and violent that reading it had made Kate dizzy. What Kate wanted was for her mom to have never fucked with Wilson Fisk. For her dad to have never fucked with Wilson Fisk. For the people responsible for taking care of her to have been better and more careful. 

She said, instead, “I’ll install new security at the apartment. Non-Bishop Security stuff.” She clarified, and her mom barely suppressed an eye roll. “It’s all being redone anyway.” Thank fuck for insurance, Laura Barton’s ability to make a checklist, and contractors used to SHIELD’s specific need for quick and secure repairs to explosive damage. “And I will check in once a day with someone from the company to confirm that I’m alright.” 

Eleanor’s sigh could’ve been used as the model for disappointed and exasperated mothers. Sadly for her, her only audience was Kate, who was growing less affected by her mom’s opinion by the minute. (Still affected. Probably always affected. But realizing that her decision not to cover up a murder made her mom more disappointed than, y’know, aiding and abetting would have really did wonders in blunting the effects of maternal guilt.) 

“This is the best I’m going to get, isn’t it?”

Kate leaned back into her chair. “Yes. And if you try anything more, and you know I’ll know if you do, then I’ll stop checking in.” She paused, added even though she was sure her mom already knew, “Also, I’ll take whatever or whoever, wrap them up in a bow, and drop them somewhere super embarrassing for the company.” 

“You’re a shit,” she said, with clear fondness below the frustration. 

Part of Kate resented it. The familiarity. It was fucked, that her mom thought she had the right to act like the last month hadn’t happened. Or worse, that she had fixed everything with a non-apology and a little bit of worry and a cream folder full of financial security that was there despite Eleanor’s best efforts and not because of them. 

Another part of Kate clung to the small piece of evidence that her mom still loved her the way she hoped. Hard not to feel pathetic about that. 

She shrugged, picking at the skin around her thumbnail. “Maybe. But it’s your fault.”

“Yes,” Eleanor said softly. “It is.” She took a pen and legal pad, wrote something quickly on a sheet which she tore and folded in half before brushing nonexistent lint from her pants and standing. “I’ll walk you out.”

She took Kate to the front desk and hugged her. It was still stiff and quiet and awkward, but it made Kate want to cry less. And then that made her want to cry more.  

“Here’s protocol for contact.” She handed Kate the folded piece of legal paper. “I don’t need to tell you to—“

“Destroy it after I read it. Yeah. I got it.” 

“Shit,” her mom said again, and again, Kate shrugged. 

She bit her lip, conflicted, but in the end forced the words past her pride. “Stay safe, mom.”

She didn’t bother trying to decipher the momentary slip of her mom’s mask, what it meant that it was back in place by the time she responded, “You stay safe. I love you.”

The words landed like a thumb on a bruise, the doubt a dull ache sharpened with pressure. 

“I love you too.” It felt more like an admission of weakness than anything else, and god, she needed to get out of here. 

Eleanor raised her hand a fraction but she didn’t reach out, and Kate didn’t either, and then she was gone, heels clicking and back ramrod straight as she made her way to the sea of lawyers waiting for her. 

-

Clint answered on the second ring, just as Kate was turning into the park with PD. 

“How’s it going, Hawkeye?” 

She grinned, even in the midst of her absolutely shit family crisis, because that was still so fucking cool . 

“Not gonna lie, Hawkeye. Hasn’t been the greatest day.” She gave an emotionally abridged rundown of the encounter with her mother, Clint humming and making concerned noises as she glossed over the warning her mom provided about her safety. He didn’t question her decision to decline Bishop Security’s interventions, but she could practically see the crease in his brow through the phone. “Actually,” she said, tugging PD away from a very suspect paper bag covered in grease and…things, “you might be able to help me out. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who could hook me up with a solid security system?”

Clint laughed. It wasn’t quite his Christmas-with-the-family-in-Iowa laugh, but it was close, which made Kate relax a little. Couldn’t be too bad if Clint wasn’t stuck in Avenger mode. “Yeah. Yeah. I think I’ve got a few people for that. May or may not have already asked some folks. Mind sending me basics on the layout? I’m hoping moldy blown-out hole above a pizza joint doesn’t work anymore.”

“Nah, baby.” Kate kicked at a rock on the path. “I’ve got walls . Windows , even.”

“Livin’ the life,” Clint said seriously. 

“That’s me.” 

-

After a solid but unsuccessful (can’t win ‘em all) attempt to exorcize some trauma with a three hour workout, Kate left messages with the trust fund contacts and then spent the evening in her mostly repaired but also mostly empty apartment watching Wipe Out on the IKEA sofa she and Clint had lugged up before he left. It was fun to viciously critique contestant strategy to PD, who was a good audience and thumped his tail gamely every time Kate looked his way.

At 9:30pm, as promised, she called her designated Bishop Security agent with the safe word. It wasn’t her mom. She hadn’t heard anything more from her mom, and the sting of that was only a little soothed by the fact that she didn’t really want to have to navigate any more awkward and unpleasant conversations with her remaining bio parent. 

In an attempt at productive distraction, she made the mistake of checking her email (she’d turned off notifications after her mom’s request, hadn’t wanted any more surprises in public spaces), where she found a message from the school administration about finding a time to discuss “alternative options” for her final semester. Weirdly, they weren’t falling over themselves to welcome back a property destroying security threat whose well of money, so far as they knew, had dried up. 

Kate wasn’t thrilled at the thought of going back either. There had been plenty of nasty headlines already, and there would only be more. 

When she left campus at the beginning of winter break, she was Kate Bishop: charming archer who won nationals; fun to play beer pong with; a little loud but good on a group project; cocky and sometimes reckless but in the mostly attractive, rugged way. 

Maybe it wasn’t giving her classmates enough credit, but it felt too naive to think that she’d go back and be anything other than Kate Bishop: daughter of a massive criminal; annoyingly vocal in class; unapologetic destroyer of a beloved school landmark and a national seasonal treasure; spoiled rich kid with a massive ego who only got in because of her money. 

Kate was also self-aware enough to know that they wouldn’t be totally wrong on any of those points, including the last one, probably. The Bishop dorm that had been on campus for like a hundred years and an endowed professorship definitely didn’t hurt her application. 

Even though her mom seemed convinced that Kate didn’t realize everything she’d been given, Kate had always tried to be more than a legacy admit and a snotty, old money New Yorker and she thought, hoped, that she had been kind of successful. The last few weeks had definitely undone most of that work. Maybe all of it. 

Anyway, whatever. She’d finish with minimal time on campus her last semester, and that would be fine. Not to sound like a massive dick but Kate had never really had to try that hard to do well so it wasn’t like missing in-person classes would hurt her, and her archery season was basically over anyway. Yeah, it would be a little more lonely, but that was the life of a superhero. She had Clint. Campus was close enough that Franny and Greer could come visit whenever. And she’d make other friends. People made friends after graduation, right? That was a thing? 

She sent an email back confirming a meeting time and slammed her laptop closed a little too forcefully. 

Fighting the temptation to stare at the wall and contemplate her mom’s potential hideout locations while feeling super sorry for herself, she took PD for a last walk around the block before falling asleep to reruns of Community . Not the healthiest of habits but whatever, she needed rest and distractions. She’d worry about sleep hygiene later. (Or never.) 

She made it through three check-ins, seven walks, a depressing call with Clint confirming Fisk was still alive and likely to stay that way, four workouts, a very awkward conversation with the Dean of Students and her academic advisors, three boxes of Junior Mints, zero words from her mother, a sighting of one tracksuit goon, and the delivery and installation of what was 1000% a SHIELD-developed security system before she finally lost it, which, all things considered, was pretty impressive. 

And of course, it was a small thing. That’s how this shit went. She stumbled over one of PD’s rope toys in the kitchen, slammed her hip into the counter, and suddenly she was crying. Like, big crying. The kind of heaving, sobbing crying that hurt . She sank to the floor, where PD came to press against her in a full body lean, and she stayed there, running her fingers through his fluff, until her kitchen timer beeped annoyingly at her seventeen minutes later. 

Thankfully–also a small thing, but one that really, really helped–she had managed to get her pizza into the oven before her breakdown. She pulled it out, contemplated tearing it into pieces (wouldn’t be the first time) but was pretty sure eating hand-ripped frozen pizza over her sink wouldn’t make her feel better , so she grabbed the surprisingly useful pizza cutter gadget thing she got during a freshman year Dirty Santa exchange with the archery team and cut the BBQ chicken into squares on a cutting board, took the whole thing over to her sofa, and turned on Community again.  

She thought she was good, or as good as she could be, but when Clint called, she was back to blubbering within like 30 seconds of his, “Hawkeye,” gross, snotty, embarrassing sobs traveling through the air to Iowa. Nice, Kate. 

“Okay,” he said calmly, in a voice that Kate imagined he might use in a hostage negotiation. “Hold on. I’m getting Laura.” 

Forty-five minutes later, it was just the two of them again, Laura having worked her magic (Kindness. Kate was pretty sure it was kindness, and it was good to know that someone who had definitely been a SHIELD agent could hold on to that.) and gone to handle Nate’s bathtime routine. 

“I really don’t mind coming, Kate. This is big stuff. You don’t need to do it alone, and I don’t like that you saw one of the tracksuits in your neighborhood.” 

“I know. I know. I promise I’ll call you if I need you, but right now I’m okay. I just…it was a rough night. Look, though! I talked about it! Also, like, it definitely could have been a random dude with terrible taste in clothing and a bad haircut, okay?”  

“Mmm.” It was skeptical at best. 

“Trust me, Clint? I’ll feel bad if you come right now. There’s a kickass security system and nobody is throwing molotovs at me or even really paying attention.” This part, at least, was true. The tracksuit she’d seen was at a popular Thai place a few blocks over, seemingly just picking up takeout, and Kate hadn’t noticed any activity closer than that. “I’m a little lonely and sad, yeah, but it’s not, like, a Grey Gardens situation. PD and I are fine and we’re getting out in the world and we’re safe. I’ll SOS if things get dire. Really.” 

He sighed in concession. “Okay. I trust you. But I’m serious, Kate. Even if you’re not in immediate danger. Partners, remember? It means more than just trick arrows and car chases.” 

She’d gotten to know the Bartons over Christmas, which meant she got to know Natasha, too–through photos; Lila’s favorite sleep shirt; a post-it on the fridge saying she’d gone for a run and would be back for lunch; stories, so many stories; a late night of them ended with Nate’s sleepy voice mumbling from Kate’s lap, “I get to have her name.” There was a room upstairs that was the one place Nate didn’t explore during hide and seek, a table in Clint’s workshop that had been painted red, tiny black Barton handprints made to look like little spiders over the top, initials marked in white. Laura took a breath like she’d been punched when a recipe card fell from one of her cookbooks, neat, distinct handwriting with a PS at the bottom: Clint–Add extra cinnamon if you’re making this for Laura. 

More than trick arrows and car chases. 

“Partners. I remember. Thanks, Clint.”

- 

She wouldn’t have been surprised to see Clint on her mopey midday walk, even after their conversation. She hadn’t sounded great last night, and she knew partners also meant sometimes telling the other person to sit down and shut up and take their medicine (or ice their knee with a frozen margarita).   

It wasn’t Clint, though, who was propped casually against a tree on her regular route with PD through the park, familiar black and yellow jacket unbuttoned over a gray t-shirt and high-waisted jeans. It was, instead, the widow who almost killed him, using the combat boot resting against the tree behind her to press forward and toward Kate, grinning big while Kate stared at her like a fucking idiot. 

“Kate Bishop! Look at this coincidence!” 

She bent to greet PD, letting him sniff her hand before going in for pets. He was belly-up within seconds, and Yelena seemed delighted, kneeling to get a better angle and running dark green nails through white fur. 

It gave Kate, who was still feeling sorry for herself and definitely not ready for human interaction, much less human interaction with Yelena Belova , a chance to try to get her shit together. It also gave her a chance to admire Yelena’s hair, which was down and like, glowing, basically. Totally ridiculous, because it was gray as hell and January in New York. 

Kate, who had taken her beanie off like ten minutes ago, was pretty sure she had managed to untangle the worst of the mess before she left the apartment and was suddenly grateful she had bothered to shower, at least. 

Not that Yelena hadn’t seen her looking a lot worse. 

The assassin continued loving on her totally smitten dog, who was going to be fully disgusting from wagging and squirming all over the slushy sidewalk while Yelena praised him in Russian. 

“Yelena.”

The widow grinned up at her, giving PD another scratch before pressing to stand in front of Kate. 

“Coincidence, huh?”

Yelena shrugged, and it was annoyingly charming, her whole deal. Deadly charming. 

She wasn’t afraid, a little bit because yeah, if Yelena wanted Kate dead, she’d be dead already, but mostly because she knew more now. Clint had told her, over beer and gingerbread and conversation about Natasha, some things about his fight with Yelena, who she was to Natasha and what that meant to him. He told her a little less about the Red Room and less than that about what it was to be a widow. He told her nothing about the call he made a few days after Christmas, stepping outside speaking Russian, but Kate didn’t ask. She didn’t need to. So yeah, deadly charming but also no longer trying to murder her or her mentor.

Apparently so much in the not-murdering lane that Clint had sent Yelena to check in on her, which, weird choice, but maybe they were talking in a real way now. Clint seemed pretty hellbent on at least trying with the person who had meant so much to his person. Maybe Yelena felt the same. 

As if she were reading Kate’s mind, Yelena said, cheery as ever, “Don’t worry. Barton and I are okay. We are not best friends,” she snorted at herself, somehow making it attractive, “but we have an understanding, and I am no longer going to kill him.” 

It was nice of Yelena, not to mention why she had been out to kill Clint in the first place. Someone has hired a black widow assassin . Yeah. Someone. Kate sagged a little. God, she was tired. 

Yelena said, tilting her head down the path, “Let’s walk and talk?”

Kate couldn’t take her anger out on her mom, but Yelena was right there, so Kate, who had never been accused of not being a brat, frowned a little and took a step back. Yelena definitely noticed, because she was a fucking super spy and Kate wasn’t subtle, but she acted like she didn’t, patting PD’s head gently where he was pressing into her thigh, smile still firmly in place. 

“I…” 

“Barton sent me, if that helps.”

“Yeah. I figured.”

Yelena pointedly eyed the new distance between them with a raised brow but waited, silent and steady, for Kate to make a move. 

She could have argued. She could totally have argued. She had plenty of reasons to say no.  A few good ones, even. But she was tired and she was lonely and she had just enough sense in her to overwhelm the stubbornness and brattiness and consider what pushing away the person her friend had sent to check on her would get her. The answer was a pretty swift nothing. She already had a lot of nothing. She didn’t love it. 

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s walk and talk.” 

Yelena’s smile grew, and Kate offered one in return, a little less than full Bishop charm but more real for it. Yelena clapped her hands in front of her and turned with purpose down the path to their left, PD sticking happily by her side. 

“So what did Clint tell you?”

Yelena eyed her. “Straight to business then. Fair enough.” 

“Did you have…non…business…things you wanted to talk about?”

The quirk of Yelena’s lips made Kate’s cheeks heat. So she wasn’t the most articulate right now. Whatever. 

“Well, last time I was here, you said something about a drink.” Her lips turned down slightly. “But I think maybe you were not serious, which I have to say, is a little disappointing. I thought we had fun.” 

“Fun?” Kate said, tone disbelieving and eyebrows raised. “The part where you broke into my apartment and threatened me over mac and cheese?” Yelena made a noise of protest, which Kate ignored. “Or the part where you kicked my ass on the way to kill my mentor?” 

“Still so defensive.” Yelena tsked at her. “So for you, maybe not so much the girls’ night.” Kate snorted, which Yelena ignored. “Okay. But the sparring was fun. And you said you liked me!”

Kate shook her head but was smiling despite herself. “Sparring. That was sparring for you. God, how fast could you have kicked my ass with a little effort?” Yelena shrugged, unconcerned. “Okay well belated thanks for not breaking me in half, or whatever.”

“Removing an obstacle,” Yelena said. “I was a little annoyed, but I had a good time, in the end. I am learning to be more flexible.”

Kate’s smile widened. “Glad I could help. I meant it, about liking you. Only because you didn’t actually kill Clint, though. We would not be chill if you’d gone through with that.”

“But now we are chill?” She was definitely teasing, but it was soft, friendly, and Kate was grateful for it.

“Yeah. We’re chill. And, uh,” the calculation of her pride to loneliness ratio was depressingly quick, “I’d be down for a drink. Or food. Whatever. If you want.”

“See? Non…business…things,” Yelena drawled, imitating Kate’s accent perfectly. 

“Okay, I take it back. Drink invitation revoked.”

Yelena laughed, low and loud, eyes crinkling as she ruffled PD’s fur when he yelped a half-bark in happy solidarity. 

“So I have lost my drink privilege because I am funny. This seems unfair, but I notice you said nothing about food. That is still on the table?”

“Cute,” Kate blurted before her brain could stop her mouth, and at Yelena’s confused expression she added, a little flustered, “The pun, I mean.”

Yelena winked at her, all signs of confusion gone, and Kate rolled her eyes and ignored the uptick in her heartbeat at Yelena’s smile because not right now, Kate .

“Clint sent you?” Kate shot for exasperated but in, like, a friendly way, and it seemed to be fine, if Yelena’s nod was anything to go by. 

“Yes, yes. Barton said you’re having a bit of a shit time. I told him yes of course she’s having a shit time because her mother hired me to kill you and she also killed that rich white man who shares his name with twenty other people and then did many many other illegal things and now she is arrested.”

It was a tone Kate herself used, often in back and forth with Lila, when Clint was being dense. The hand not occasionally patting PD waved in the air in a series of gestures indicating both that Clint was an idiot and that her point was obvious. 

Kate grimaced. “Well. You’re not wrong.”

One side of Yelena’s face scrunched apologetically. “Sorry. Possibly I was too blunt?”

“Nah, it’s nice, honestly. No use dancing around it.”

“Hmm.” She continued, “Well, Barton was worried and wanted me to come see you. To make sure you are okay, which I told him was stupid for all of those reasons but also, to make sure you are safe from those idiots in bad workout clothes and whoever else, which is less stupid and is something I can actually do.”

“He…hired you?”

Yelena laughed and shook her head. “No. No. He could not afford me. But like I said, we have an understanding, and you are important to him. I was already in New York for work, and I will be here for some time, I think. So. Easy enough to find you.” Her brow furrowed slightly as she added, “We should probably work on that.”

“We?” Kate breathed to herself. 

“We,” Yelena confirmed. “I have a proposal, if you are interested.” 

PD’s tail thwacked against Kate’s leg, Yelena’s hand scratching behind his ear where he had moved to walk between them. 

“Yes, for you, too, хороший мальчик.” 

“His name’s PD, by the way,” Kate offered absently. “Short for Pizza Dog. Or Lucky.” 

Speaking down to PD, Yelena murmured something in Russian, that, based on vibes alone, was, “ Your mother has given you a series of stupid names ,” and then brought her eyes, a little judgmental, back to Kate’s. “I have been told by an associate that I need to take a vacation.” 

Her lips pulled down into a pout, and Kate tried very hard not to focus on her mouth. She was only halfway successful. 

“She was very rude about it, but also, probably, she was right. So, I finished the job that brought me back to New York and I am not taking another one right now. I want to see the city. And Clint Barton does not want to see you die.” 

“Um,” Kate said lamely. 

Yelena plowed on. “Clearly, you are not very good at self-preservation.” “Hey, that’s not…” 

She might as well not have been talking. “For example, I told you to stay out of my way and you decided to do the opposite of that.” Yelena looked at her the way Lila looked at Clint after he spent a solid minute trying to figure out how to get the Switch on. Idiot , her face said. “In fact, you slapped me in an elevator. Now. You are still alive, but that is because I like you.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

“You are welcome.” So now Yelena heard her. “But the tracksuit idiots will not be so nice, I don’t think. This brings me to my proposal. I will help you to stay alive, and you will show me New York.” 

Well, that was an easy yes. 

Option A: hang out and eat with Yelena and PD, watch Yelena enjoy tourist shit, and maybe, hopefully, learn some black-widow-y things from her while also not dying embarrassingly at the hands of a bunch of Grand Theft Auto rejects. 

Option B: continue to do everything she had been doing for the past five days, plus work super hard not to die embarrassingly at the hands of a bunch of Grand Theft Auto rejects. 

As much as Kate loved crying over her frozen dinner for one while her dog tried to comfort her, she was willing to try something new, even if it hurt her pride a little. 

And it did. 

She was Hawkeye. It didn’t feel great, needing protection, but something about the offer coming from an assassin skilled enough to kill a literal Avenger took the sting out of it. Also, the help came from Clint and Yelena, not her mom, which was pretty key right now. Plus it was a trade, even if Yelena was only making it feel that way to preserve a little of Kate’s dignity, a kindness that Kate didn’t know if she deserved but really appreciated. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, okay.” 

“Excellent!” Yelena stopped and bent to PD, who immediately flopped onto his back again. Kate watched the brown, icy water move under his tail and winced preemptively at the inevitable state of her bathroom post-dog bath. He was gonna look so sad in the tub. She was gonna be so sad trying to get him there. “Do you hear that? We are going to spend lots more time together.” 

When she stood again, her eyes wandered and caught eagerly on an ice cream cart. 

A list started forming in Kate’s mind, food and drinks and cute neighborhood walks, options for a good first Broadway show. The trade wasn’t exactly equal–Yelena protecting Kate in exchange for Kate acting as a glorified tour guide/personal Yelp–but Kate could still hold up her end of the bargain and do it well. She was a New Yorker, and she had opinions about most things in the city and those opinions were, of course, right. 

“There’s an ice cream shop six blocks away. Best waffle cones in the city. And I can recommend like 15 flavors. Good place to start?” 

It had been obvious to Kate, that first time in her apartment, that Yelena was performing–her eagerness about New York, the invitation to share food, her laughter and openness. Kate felt it again in their fight. Stop making me like you . Because she had been, and even though Kate knew who she was dealing with, she couldn’t help but be drawn in.

Yelena was beautiful and magnetic and god, so dangerous. Deadly in her charm. Deadly in her ability to disarm. Kate knew. She knew. 

Still, as Yelena’s face lit up at the prospect of ice cream, eyes defiantly bright against the gloom of the day, she found herself drawn in again, and more, something in her pushed back hard against the idea that being a widow meant Yelena wasn’t also a person. A weird, funny, vibrant person. 

“How many flavors will fit in a waffle cone?” She asked, gesturing for Kate to lead the way. She continued before Kate could answer. “We must try some other places to compare. Not to get us off on the wrong leg. It is not that I do not trust you, Kate Bishop the New Yorker, but I would like to learn what makes a waffle cone good. It is important to understand why the best is the best.” 

There was something about the tilt of her lips that made Kate say with confidence, “You 100% know it’s the wrong foot.” 

Yelena looked down at her feet, brow furrowing and head tilting as she considered. Kate’s momentary panic that she’d been a whole ass already dissipated as Yelena winked at her, and she shoved her with her shoulder on instinct, like she would have done with Franny or Greer or Clint. 

It was gone almost as soon as it appeared, but there was real surprise on Yelena’s face as she braced against the contact, obvious enough for Kate to follow up. “Sorry, was that okay?” She waved a hand between them. “The shoulder thing, I mean. I didn’t think about it but I know not everyone likes to be touched casually like that. I know we’ve fought, or whatever, but that’s different. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“It’s okay,” she said. After a beat, she added, “Thank you for asking me.” 

“For sure.” Yelena was holding herself tightly, and Kate was pretty sure she got it, not being a huge fan of vulnerability herself, so she rerouted. “Back to the art of waffle cones. The question is really how many flavors do you want to combine? Because creating a complementary situation is essential to cone enjoyment.

“And yes, you’re totally right. We’ve gotta try at least a few other places so you can form your own opinion.” Yelena’s shoulders relaxed minutely, and Kate would probably spend a lot of time later thinking about how much of their interaction was organic and how much was Yelena carefully crafting, but for now, she took the win. “To be clear, though, I’m right about this. PD agrees.” 

Yelena offered her an incredibly unimpressed look. “I hope you are joking.” As Kate’s lips pressed into a line, Yelena sighed. “Kate Bishop. This is not for dogs. You know this.” 

“Hey! They have a pup cup!” 

“Pup cup,” Yelena mocked in an American accent, rolling her eyes. “Is the waffle cone part of this?” 

“I mean…” 

“Mmm.” Yelena nodded and hummed through pursed lips. “That is what I thought.” 

“Careful, PD,” Kate stage whispered. “Your new best friend is gonna take your treats away.” 

Yelena tsked at her with a shake of her head before ruffling the hair behind PD’s ears. “Do not try to turn him against me. He is too smart for that.” 

Kate watched as PD turned his little eye up at Yelena, tongue lolling and tail going hard. Smart wasn’t the word she’d use, but she wasn’t out here trying to shoot arrows in a glass house. She and PD clearly shared a deficient interest in self-preservation when it came to Yelena, both of them a little desperate and belly-up with trust, weak in the face of a beautiful, lethal weirdo. 

Kate really, really wanted to believe it wouldn’t turn out to be a mistake. 

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Matt Shuham at HuffPost:

Last summer, a candidate for the New Mexico state House showed up on Nathan Jaramillo’s doorstep. Jaramillo, the Bureau of Elections administrator in Bernalillo County, said Peña had previously sent threatening emails to both himself and to others in the county. Jaramillo brushed it off, annoyed at the personal intrusion but unconcerned. Five months later, Peña, a Trump supporter who lost his election and rejected the results, was arrested and charged with organizing a string of brazen drive-by shootings targeting public officials. Jaramillo thought back to five months earlier, when the man had shown up at his doorstep. The severity of the situation “really hit me,” Jaramillo told HuffPost. “In hindsight, it was a lot more scary.” Now, Jaramillo’s office assigns ticket numbers to emails they receive, organizing them by sender and keeping tabs on the office’s responses, in the hopes of anticipating anyone who could escalate their complaints into something more serious.

But the incident with Peña — who has pleaded not guilty, and whose attorney did not respond to a request for comment — is just one scene representative of an increasingly tense era of American politics. Fueled by Trump’s lies about election theft, supporters of his have spent years threatening election workers and the democratic process — and acting upon those threats. Now, as the 2024 presidential campaign charges toward November, election offices are taking steps they’d never dreamed could be necessary. Several election officials HuffPost spoke to laid out laundry lists of upgrades — everything from ballistic windows, doors and walls to new security cameras, electronic access badges and location trackers on ballot boxes. And as the Republican Party continues to push lies about election integrity — a scripted Republican Party call last month falsely claimed there was “massive fraud” in 2020 — election officials are gearing up to protect what promises to be an even more tense presidential contest this year.

[...] Around the country, election officials are working on evacuation and “quick containment” drills for future potential envelope attacks — even just using a bucket to contain a suspicious envelope — and stocking up on masks, gloves and naloxone, just in case, said Jennifer Morrell, a former elections official in Utah and Colorado and co-founder of an election consulting group during a recent call hosted by the National Task Force on Election Crises.

[...] “Prior to 2016, it was a pretty sleepy industry. People trusted their election officials and the process,” she said. Then, Hall said, “everything changed: When you have rhetoric coming from the top, it empowers and activates people all the way down the food chain.”

[...] But election workers’ preparations for 2024 are complicated by the sheer range of security issues that could come up: Since 2020, for example, Trump supporters across the country have tried — sometimes successfully — to copy data from sensitive equipment like voting machines and ballot tabulators. In Michigan, for example, several prominent Republicans, including a former GOP nominee for state attorney general, have been charged with felonies for their roles in an alleged conspiracy to improperly gain access to ballot tabulators. In Colorado, a former county clerk faces felony charges for allegedly allowing a computer technician to get into election machines under false pretenses; information from the machines was subsequently shared at an election fraud conspiracy theory summit. The answer to these growing threats, according to election officials, is a mix of background checks, digital protections like phishing training for staff and multi-factor authentication for accessing databases, in addition to physical measures like electronic badges that allow different levels of access to observers, volunteers, election workers and government employees.

[...]

Brain Drain

For veteran election administrators, the Trump era has brought with it a troubling wave of resignations. Workers at all levels have decided they’d rather not participate in a process that, in recent years, has led some of their neighbors to think they’re part of an anti-democratic cabal. What used to be considered sleepy “clerk work” is now heavily scrutinized — and, as the Republican attacks against Georgia election workers Ruby Freeman and Shaye Moss showed, may make people vulnerable to nationwide defamation campaigns. In North Carolina, there’s been a “huge increase” in directors of elections retiring, Bowens said. And Jaramillo described “individuals that were with our office for 20-plus years [who] made the determination that they weren’t in it for the 2024 ride.” Mast said he’d seen an “incredible” number of election workers retiring or changing fields. Among elected clerks, Mast said the position has gone from one filled largely by career administrators who served lengthy tenures to one with roughly 30% turnover every four years. After the “environmental changes” of 2020, experienced clerks have begun leaving the field more often, he said. “It’s incredible to see.”

Election administration was once a sleepy nonpartisan industry, but with rampant election denialism instigated by Donald Trump and fellow right-wing bad actors, election administrators are looking to make safety upgrades before this fall's election.

[doflamingadonquixote]

Even the devil was once an angel | [1/?]

Summary: You are a psychiatrist and decide to play a dangerous game with the worst of criminal minds. Or: you're a bit bored too.

Pairing: Jim Moriarty x Fem!Reader

Chapter word count: 2714

Warning: +18, mind games, angst and smut, hurt/comfort, stalker!Moriarty (Jim Moriarty is his own warning)

Next Chap: 2

I. The day we met

The first time you meet James Moriarty, he pretends to be someone else.

💥💥💥

That morning London showed leniency to its citizens, letting the clouds clear from the gloomy day of the day before and giving way to warm sunshine that broke the dry and cold temperatures.

The little park outside your window was teeming with so many different people. Mothers who accompanied their children to school, engaged couples who stopped along the road to exchange affection, elderly people who let themselves be carried away by their pets.

For a brief moment you identified in one of those people, away from the twisted world you floated in, gasping for air to try not to fall down again.

How pleasant it must have been to lead such a simple life. Follow a policy that doesn't put your life at risk for even a second.

You heard the unmistakable sound of an email and turned on yourself in the mobile chair, taking your mind away from your fantasies and returning to reality. You opened the mail and read its contents.

You absentmindedly ran your fingertips over the computer keyboard, quickly deciphering the message and dwelling on the unmistakable initials of Mycroft Holmes. 

Although it sounded more like an order than a real request for assistance, you forced yourself to respond passively and affirmatively about your presence at the appointed meeting place.

Just before you could send the mail, a soft knock came to your door.

Let your eye scroll one last time on the encrypted script you used and then with a click you send your reply back to the sender. You immediately closed your email-box and invited your patient to come in.

Your secretary had warned you that same morning that a new patient had requested a consultation and since she had determined from the tone of his voice that it was urgent she had placed him the same day.

The white door clicked and this little man appeared on its doorstep and snapped his neck from right to left, trying to locate you.

When he found you, his lips parted in an embarrassed smile and he moved from one foot to the other on the door while he seemed to assume an excited and anxious attitude that made you raise your eyebrows in a funny way.

“Good morning,” he stomped forward and reached over your desk, “Richard Brook. I made a meeting this morning with your assistant.”

With a smile, you grabbed his hand and noticed an unusual nervous tremor. The grip was weak and his fingers were smooth but before you could linger too long, his hand slipped away from you.

“Of course, I've already been informed. Nice to meet you, Mr. Brook.”

You rose to your feet and with your heels you noticed that you were slightly taller than the man. You went around the desk, approaching him and with one arm pointed to the real leather armchair not far from you.

You avoided touching him, raising a hand behind his back only to urge him to move forward but without creating real contact. You felt too much agitation in the air. Probably an unexpected gesture from you would have put him on the run.

“Oh, yes, thank you.” He makes an odd leap forward as he runs a hand behind his neck. “Please, just Richard.” He added as he dropped to the soft dark leather.

The room offered a wide space, occupied only by a mahogany desk and an office chair, the welcoming chair for patients and a small single armchair where you sat immediately, closer to study your client.

He was wearing a one-size-fits-all gray T-shirt and ripped jeans of a faded blue. He waved his sneakers over each other, often making your gaze fall down.

“Anything makes you comfortable, Richard.”

You forced your gaze back to him, focusing on his hazel eyes and his dark, undone hair.

Everything about him showed little attention to himself but inevitably your eyes rested on young, well-manicured hands. His nails were short and freshly trimmed, no bite marks along the surrounding flesh and cuticles.

Richard caught your attention and casually placed his hands between his thighs, hiding any other signals. 

An alarm bell rang in your brain, warning you that you had a great actor in front of you.

Before he could notice your moment of evaluation, let the most sincere smile slip on your face and closed your eyelids to prevent him from reading a fake.

“So, Richard. What would you like to talk about today? Is there a reason for your presence here?”

You brought your hand to your chest and hips, mimicking a search for something and stood up. You had to get back to your desk as quickly as possible.

The man followed your movement, his mouth slightly open to speak.

“What a careless, I forgot the folder. Forgive me a second...”

You had just passed the chair when the reloading click of an unmistakable weapon rang behind you.

“Unusual for the government's personal psychiatrist to forget something so elementary. Reeeeeally disappointing.”

It was the low pitch slowly rising into a childish moan that sent a shiver down your spine.

It wasn't the first time you had dealt with psychotic killers but it was definitely the first time anyone had found you in the undercover job.

You wore the best rigid and impenetrable mask you could find in that unexpected situation and forced your eyes to focus only on the weapon that was pointed directly at you instead of looking for the cameras that Mycroft had placed in your office. If you only had a vague idea who he was you were sure he would easily catch your eye.

The rigid and anxious body of the man who had entered the office seemed to have completely melted away, giving way to one full of arrogance and sadistic fun.

“Beginner's mistake, right?”

You frowned at his remark but luckily the guy was protagonist enough to explain without having to ask for anything.

“The hands. I didn't want to ruin them. I'm a prima donna on this.” He held his right one up in front of his face, looking curiously at the nails. “I must have underestimated you a little too much.”

He laughed a little at your neutral expression, almost wanting to break it just for the sake of seeing you scared or angry.

“It seems that my boys are doing a great job with bugs...” He dropped his back against the chair as if he were the owner of the place and waved the gun to point to the whole office before pointing it at you again.

You felt that if you remained silent for a long time, the man would have shot you without thinking twice.

“Who are you?” It was a stupid question, the first thing you thought of saying without sounding nervous.

The amusement that lit up his face turned into an expression of complete coldness. His eyes blocked your every chance of reading, darkening and narrowing dangerously.

“No, no, no...” he moaned, looked away from your figure but before you could even think of moving a muscle, he jumped up from his chair and took two big strides in your direction.

It took all your willpower not to flinch from that sudden outburst that had dragged him within inches of you. The barrel of the gun pressed hard just above your breasts, giving you bursts of pain from the excessive pressure.

“Haven't you figured out who I am yet ?!”

The high tone of voice made you clench your jaw and painfully bite the inside of your cheek to avoid jolting. The difference in height didn't give you any advantage and the more you looked into the depths of those dilated pupils, the more you became aware that it was an animal ready to jump on your throat.

You thought about it for a few moments and then sighed loudly. It couldn't be anyone but him.

“My assistant does careful research on every patient who crosses my threshold. Before letting you in, she must have necessarily identified you and this means that the results she found on Richard Brook were reliable. However, you staged a little theater, committing yourself to make me believe that you are exactly the desperate and melancholy little boy without keep in mind my professionalism.”

You watched his irritated expression slowly crack. You took that as a good sign.

“The ability to create a well-recognized false identity, the art of knowing how to play a role, your knowledge about my work, the fact that I have stand in the way of only one subject in the last two years...” eyes from bottom to top, connecting your gazes again. “I can't say it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Moriarty.”

You were incredibly angry with Holmes for not showing you at least half a photo of the man you were dismantling the entire criminal link to.

Knowing the identity of Moriarty was reserved for very few, true, but if there was even the slightest chance that the criminal could identify you, you wanted him to have been reported to you.

James Moriarty gave you a smile before turning his back to you and spread his arms in a theatrical and dramatic gesture.

“Din din din! Looks like someone just spared a bullet.” He commented enthusiastically.

Without being seen, you turned your head to the desk and thought of the Walther suspended and away from you under the desk. You took a couple of steps back, pretending to have pain in your joints and being forced into a movement to stretch your legs.

But the criminal didn't seem to care because he slipped the gun between his waistband and jeans, stretched like a cat with his arms up, and began wandering around the room, studying the various photos and documents leaning against the gray wall.

“I thought you were just another puppet in the hands of the government, doctor.” He said your title as a strange mockery as he grabbed your psychotherapist qualification off the wall. “But I have to change my mind, you seem to be vaguely competent in what you do.”

The rational and conservative part of you suppressed the compelling and suicidal urge to retort and humiliate him.

“He seems to be very knowledgeable about me. I thought there were no documents certifying my work with the government.”

You took another cautious step back and finally felt the surface of the desk beneath your fingers as you slowly arched your knees to feel down.

“What a stupid conclusion, doc. I can call you doc, right?”

You finally feel your fingers closing around the grip of the gun but you see Moriarty's free arm rise high and the sound of a snap of fingers resounds in the room.

A few seconds passed where you couldn't figure out what had changed but then the figure of the criminal turned and focused on you and at the gun that you were holding by your side.

Exasperated, he rolled his eyes.

“I feel offended, doc. I thought we were having fun here.” He rests the frame that he was holding back in its place, adjusting it to the maximum of obsessive and then holds out a hand to you, in a clear gesture.

When you look down on your hand you find the red dot of a sniper rifle and a tired smile is painted on your lips. Did you seriously have any chance against this man who was 10 steps ahead of you?

“You can't blame me for trying, can you?”

Your voice came out more amused than it should and Moriarty noticed it because he returned to smile at you with that maniacal expression as you put the gun in his open hand.

You had learned a lot about James Moriarty. Mycroft Holmes had told you about it, back then when he had entrusted you with several members of the Mexican cartel to be questioned and 'persuaded' to gossip about their highest bidder. You had been told of the criminal's incredible danger and you were also aware of his unstable voluptuousness in changing his mind, opinion and actions. 

You were certain that if the vocabulary was aware of the person, under the word psychopath you would find his face.

To buy time, it was enough to play his own game without unbalancing.

“We are not all great geniuses, Mr. Moriarty, but I assure you that we can do very well even without being.”

Interminable seconds of silence passed and your thoughts wandered to your young secretary a few meters from you, regardless of what was happening inside your room. If the man had shot, would she have run to see what happened or would she have run away?

You were hoping for the second one, you really didn't want to have a woman on your conscience not aware of your real job.

James closed his hand on the weapon but also grabbed your fingers in the process. You still felt that the sniper was aimed at you but Moriarty had an interested and heated look in his eyes.

“I can't deny it. John Watson seems to be a great addition to the balance of the Holmes and you...” he chuckled, maniacally as he absently stroked your fingers over the gun, the barrel of the gun pointed at you “... you definitely pissed me off doing that magic number on my precious buyers and sellers.”

Then, without warning, you felt the cold surface of the Walther forcefully push under your chin, like a dangerous caress. The fingers of James' right hand landed on your face and he used his thumb to force against your lips, violently, squeezing the soft flesh against your white teeth.

“I wonder how much your language proficiency is really worth.”

An unhealthy thought won you over. Jim Moriarty was really a rare case to study, a level of psychic disorder so severe that it could no longer even be considered pathological but that he maintained a healthy and real awareness of himself and the surrounding environment. You had dealt with psychopaths or schizophrenics but they all had a different, almost abstract, unreal conception of the world. 

And he had a weakness. He liked to play.

You must have been a bit crazy too to propose what you were about to propose to him.

“How about betting then?”

The pressure on your face eased, the gun lowered a few centimeters but you didn't dare to take your eyes off the man who was holding you in his hand and under fire. His body reaction had confirmed that you were riding the right wave, though.

“I can give you a demonstration of how I do it. I guess you are thinking that your clients are stupid enough to be manipulated by a simple psychotherapist. If you really think you are immune to all sorts of my therapy, you risk nothing.”

You felt his fingertips absentmindedly caress your skin just below your dark circles and for a second you had the terrible feeling that he could snap and pull your eyes out of their sockets just for the sake of making you scream and apologize for your insolence.

But instead of doing so, a long groan of perplexity vibrated from his throat as his lips slowly curved into a crooked but satisfied smile.

He unexpectedly pressed his hand with the gun against your cheek and the free hand on the opposite side. You felt the cold metal push until it left temporary marks but you were too busy with his face hovering over yours to be distracted.

“You have a special subject to study, what do I have in return?”

“A temporary distraction...” his face remained impassive at your words so you forced yourself to add more sarcastically than rationally: "and the satisfaction of being able to shoot me in case I have shown you that I'm not as good as the government describes me.”

You were still alive and your head wasn't leaking brain matter so, somehow, he must have liked your answer when he left your office.

[rodydekuzine]

SHIPPING UPDATE: 9/18/2023

Please read the whole post. Since it's been some time since we posted an update, we wanted to let everyone know there are still three international orders that have yet to be delivered. We are in the process of trying to find out if these orders are still in transit or if they should be deemed as lost. Two of these orders have arrived in the destination country which makes locating them difficult, while one order has not updated tracking in two months and is supposedly still in the original sender's state. We have made multiple attempts to contact the recipients of these packages by email. We have heard from two customers who have confirmed they have not yet received it, while the other recipient has yet to respond and confirm whether their package is still in transit or if tracking simply hasn't updated on our end. Our hope is that all three are still going through customs. We have no way of knowing which international carrier has accepted these packages, but we have reached out to who we think may have them, and hope to hear from them soon. Please understand that this issue is mostly out of our control and we are doing everything we can to make sure these packages arrive. We want to open leftovers as soon as possible, but we are at the mercy of these last few packages. We are doing our very best to stay on top of this and locate these packages as soon as possible. We're contacting everyone we can think of to make sure this is resolved, but unfortunately, there isn't much more we can do but wait. Though it has obviously been severely delayed, we do still plan to open leftover sales, and will be sure to notify everyone on our socials BEFORE leftover sales go live. Thank you for your patience and understanding.💚🤎

@zine-scene @atozines @fandomzines @zinefeed

[clintbartonruinedmylife]

I had a dream last night that you wrote an ironhawk fic where their kid got kidnapped. I don't even ship ironhawk.

“Twenty million dollars,” Clint said and wiped his face. Tony turned off the computer and licked his lips. 

“I’ll call Pepper,” he said. “She can get me the money in…” 

“No,” Clint said and looked up. 

“What do you mean, no?” Tony blurted. “They have Peter and they are going to hurt him if we don’t pay.” 

“No, we’re not paying,” Clint said, his voice cold and calm. 

“Do you want to call the cops?” Tony asked. He had started to pace the living room. 

“No,” Clint said again. He rose, too, went to Tony and stopped him. “These fuckers have our son and we’re going to get him back ourselves.”

“But we…” Tony started and Clint put a hand on his cheek. 

“I know we’re retired but you can’t tell me you don’t have an Iron Man suit anymore. And I still have my bow and arrows. We were Avengers and we’re going to get Peter back!” 

Tony looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. 

“FRIDAY,” he said without breaking eye contact. “The email we just got, can you trace it back to the sender?” 

“They are good, sir,” the AI said. “But you know I’m better.”

“Let’s suit up,” Clint said and Tony nodded. 

“They will bitterly regret ever having laid hands on our son,” he said. 

Six minutes later they were ready, stood in the doorway of their apartment in New York and looked at each other. 

“I have the location,” FRIDAY said. “I sent the coordinates to your suit, sir.” 

“Good girl,” Clint smiled. “Ready?” 

“Better clench up, Legolas,” Tony grinned, grabbed Clint around his waist and started. 

They landed on a roof in a pretty decrepit area of New Jersey.

“That’s it?” Clint asked from their vantage point and glared incredulously at the old house in front of them. 

“According to FRIDAY, it is,” Tony said. Clint frowned and nodded. 

“Give me a sec, I’ll check that,” he said and sneaked away. Tony let him. After all, there was a reason why he was called ‘Hawkeye’: 

And only five minutes later he could hear him over the comms.

“Confirmed,” he said. “I can see him. And four kidnappers.” 

“Only four of them?” Tony asked disbelievingly. They had to know who Peter’s parents were. 

“With him are four guys and I can’t see anyone outside,” Clint said. “This should be quick.” 

“All right,” Tony said. “Can you cover him from where you are?” 

“Of course,” Clint said and Tony started to grin in his helmet. 

“Then let’s get our boy back,” he said and jumped off of the roof. 

It took them forty-six seconds and one of Clint’s arrows and all the kidnappers were neutralized. Three of them were unconscious and one of them bled onto the ground and whined loudly while his arms were bound onto his back. FRIDAY had called the police and Clint just hugged the boy he had untied. 

“I knew you two would come,” the boy breathed relieved. “I told them it was a mistake to kidnap me. They didn’t believe me.” 

“You were very brave,” Tony said, opened his suit, stepped out of it and hugged both of them, his son and his husband. 

“Just like you,” Peter smiled and Clint kissed his cheek. “And you,” Peter said and looked at Clint. “I love you two.” 

“And we love you,” Clint said. 

“I need a doctor,” the kidnapper cried behind them and all three of them turned around.

“Shut up!”

[magpies-gold]

I attempted to order a couple of shirts and tarot card packs from Welcome to Night Vale because yes, I’ve gotten back on that bullshit again - I’m back up to 2016 and listening to it on my walks to work, which functions about as well as a cup of coffee to wake me up, let me tell you.

In hindsight, I should have known that box would be cursed. It’s Night Vale.

If you enjoy long tumbles down several flights of stairs, read on.

It started innocently enough. I ordered and remembered during checkout that oh yeah. I’m going to Spokane at the end of the month. And I’m in Canada. There’s a good chance it’ll be a little slow to get here and the arrival time might be while I’m away. Okee doke. Work address it is. DHL eCommerce usually turns into Canada Post and Canada Post does a daily delivery to our front door, where my whole department is located. If it looks like it’ll happen during my vacation, I’ll just tell my co-workers to watch for it. Easy pease.

Time passes. My box clambers across the US to the border.

Hurdle Number One: You owe duty fees! announces my tracking app. Check your email to pay. :D This is in the morning on my way to work, less than a week out from my trip.

I do. No email. I check junk, I refresh, I squint at time stamps. I scour their page for links. I think “Don’t they usually either send a letter after delivery or just demand cash at the door?” But this has all the indications that I have to pay now or it’ll be sent back. Exception. Held for payment. I am stupid and obsess over this while walking to work, listening to Night Vale with half an ear and having to rewind Cecil because my brain is occupied. I nearly get run over by a bicycle and it’s coincidentally ridden by a co-worker. He comments that I look especially unhinged today. He’s right. I keep plugging away trying to solve the labyrinthine maze that is DHL’s customer service department.

My tracking number doesn’t work in any of the Help Me boxes. The chat bot doesn’t know what a duty fee is. It finally barfs out a phone number. That’ll work. I pray it’s not a robot on the other end and continue to work.

While waiting for the kettle to heat up on my break I take a quick spin outside with my phone to call customer service.

To my briefly pleasant surprise, the wait on hold is less than five minutes and it is, in fact, a pleasant human voice on the other end. The conversation is quick “Didn’t get the email.” “Junk mail?” “Nope, nothing.” “You can wait until it’s delivered by Canada Post and pay then.” “This really looks like it’s being held, though…” “It should still go through but otherwise I have an email for you.” “You can’t like… transfer me?” “No. Just email and they’ll resend the instructions.”

Labyrinthine!

An ambulance blares by. I wince. I also have no pen. Uh. Speaker phone, apologies for the traffic noises, and frantic tapping into my Notes app while cursing autocorrect. The email is cryptic and long but I get it written down. Thanks, g’bye.

For the record, once I sent the email, things went smoothly. It worked. They resent the email, I paid the whopping $12, and then my tracking updated to say it would continue on to me. Whew. Good. I await the Canada Post tracking number.

Hurdle Number Two: This is where the package started mutating, I’m sure. A Canada Post tracking number appears!

…. and then an Intelcom tracking number appears.

And then my DHL original tracking number duplicates itself saying it’s being sent back to the states? But the original one is still on its way to me… How did my box become at least three boxes?

I blink a few times and just… track them all to see what’s going to happen.

At this point I’ve got to leave for Spokane so I just ask my co-workers to keep an eye out and I leave it up to the fates.

Canada Post never budged. Nothing happened. The duplicate DHL package did move, and eventually returned all the way back to the sender. I don’t know what that was to this day. The Intelcom package identified itself as coming my way with a little email and a link to add delivery instructions and so I thought “You. You are the real one. Found you.” I know Intelcom delivers on weekends and I don’t want to inconvenience anyone and this has started to get to where I don’t want to leave any details up to chance, and so in every instruction box I can find, I note that it’s a business address, give the hours, and the times we’re open. Please deliver to reception. On weekdays. Please.

I once again give it up to the fates and enjoy my weekend.

Hurdle Number Four: Intelcom is Jared, age 19, who never learned how to read. On Sunday morning, the final day of Mysterium, on what is a long weekend in Canada because of Canada Day on the 1st, I get a happy little email.

Package delivered!

….

How.

I open the email. I scroll down. There’s a photo. Of my box.

On the lawn.

Outside an obvious office, smack dab in the middle of a three day weekend, beside a street that harbours half the city’s traffic.

A safe location, they say.

A safe location.

The same way that a toddler on the train tracks is in a safe location. Certainly!

And I am in another country.

I make a noise that startled all thee cats in our friend’s house.

My co-workers are heroes. I thankfully have my supervisor’s cell number and she actually checks her phone, unlike me. She knew about the box. I send her the photo and just “Those absolute MAD LADS. Heeeeeeelp!”

By sheer luck another co-worker was not out of town on that glorious warm weekend and was able to swing by and rescue my box.

I enjoy the last day of the convention with a slight eye twitch.

Finally … I get home. I go back to work. I retrieve my hard earned box. Finally! I don’t open it at work. I carry it home. Whatever. It’s in my hands now and I’m going to enjoy opening it. I go the long way to meet my boyfriend at his work and then we go back to our abode.

We talk about the box adventure. We laugh about it. We both decide that Friday would be a good day to wear our new shirts. It’s going to be great.

At home we plunk it down. Tim gets a knife. He opens it.

He blinks.

What?

Um, he says.

Oh no.

And I look over his shoulder…. and I don’t see shirts. Or cards. I see…

Sleep masks. Sleep masks in fancy plastic boxes all neatly tucked together. They’ve got a sea creature on ‘em.

My box has mutated into someone’s fuckin’ Manta Sleep order. My box has escaped. My box has fled and framed an innocent bystander for its crimes. We got the wrong man, boys!

And I swear I can just about hear Cecil narrating this whole thing if I listen really, really hard.

It’s a three part tragedy. One of the shirts I wanted is out of print now. I contacted support and they offered me my pick of any others in its place, which was nice. Thank you Lucid John, that is quite a name. I paid customs fees and probably will again on box two, but such is the way.

And I think I lost a part of my soul there. Maybe that’s what was in the mystery third tracking number.

Basically if anyone in the world finds where the fuck my Night Vale shit went, could you send it home? I’ll trade you some sleep masks.

They’ve got a sea creature on ‘em.

And be careful when ordering from Night Vale.

[kahuna-burger]

Oh Oh Those Summer Nights

Warnings : None

Pairing : Hydra husbands (of course)

Characters : Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins, Jasper Sitwell, Phil Coulson, mostly unnamed STRIKE team OCs

Other tags : Pre canon, mild identity porn, under cover operations, SHIELD compartmentalizing like crazy, implied homophobia, possible internalized homophobia, epistolary (email)

Summary : Tell Email me more! Tell Email me more!

Chapter 1 : Happened So Fast https://www.tumblr.com/kahuna-burger/727100817162797056/

Chapter 2 : Had me a blast https://www.tumblr.com/kahuna-burger/727218990297055232/

Chapter 3 : Met a girl, cute as could be

From : brumlow@shield.gov

To : <shitheads>

Re : this is why you aren't in infiltration

Not one of you fuckers is even a little subtle, and that is only one of the reasons NONE OF YOU is going to be my god damned SIC when we're back in action. The others have to do with team integration and if you shit for brains had the command training to understand that, I might have considered you.

Seriously, I get any more private emails on the new fucking team command structure, the sender gets all latrine duties for our next field mission. 

Also, no, I'm not telling you details of the cover job that could identify the location, dammit it's like none of you whiny jerkoffs works for a secret government organization! You get the details I feel like giving and fucking thank me for the entertainment while you waste all our tax dollars faking your injuries for more morphine.

But no, I'm not dealing with kids, because the "attraction" I'm working at is dangerous enough to be adults only, health questionnaires and waivers, all the fucking hoops. I don't do that part, but it makes my life significantly less shitty than it could be if I had to try to teach fucking snot nosed brats and adventure seeking grannies this stuff. Most of them are fairly fit, really.

Actually, one today was EXTREMELY fit, in a way that made helping with her equipment damn fun, if ya know what I mean. Picked up the training really well too, definitely a job perk of a customer.

Doubt I'll get too many like that, though, so make sure you lazy fucks get on your PT so I can get out of this place.

To : <gamma>

From : jrollins@shield.gov 

Re : Thanks for the good news!

Glad to know we won't be broken up, and that this assignment will end at least for me. (No promises for the operation as a whole, as no one even knows what the objective is.)

In other news, I got to check out the new attraction and it's actually fantastic. Without too much identifying info, it's the kind of thing that is just stress and danger if it comes up in the course of a mission, but they've made it feel just dangerous enough to be an accomplishment and make the gorgeous payoff even better. 

Speaking of gorgeous, my training did not come from a college student, but an extremely professional but friendly grownup who obviously had years of practical experience. A+ gear up experience, will be hoping for the same crew next time. And there will definitely be a next time.

Decided to leave my bet on the money laundering since the cancellation penalty they've worked out is too high to be worth changing it, but I'm considering some side bets on specific people's involvement in WHATEVER. Will keep you updated.

-Jack

Notes : posting even though the read more is being a bitch to barely maintain my dream of one chap a day. Also, feel free to send asks about anything in this.

[okeyproxycom]

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[skarlette1]

Good (Girl) Reporter

Zelda Zane knew that being a good reporter meant being willing to meet sources on their terms. That’s what got people talking.

And her phone was her link to her sources. Any time, day or night, Zelda checked every message, every email. She never knew which one might break the big story.

Tonight the little icon from an anonymous sender was just labeled “Secrets U Never Knew.” Clicking the link brought up … what exactly was that? It was a video, but of what? Some sort of infographic?

Zelda watched intently, trying to figure out what secrets were hidden in the video. The first secret she learned was just how horny she was. The second secret was just how amazing it felt to rub her clit in time with the swirling colors. The third secret was how much closer her orgasm loomed when she allowed the video access to her phone’s location.

Soon, her new Mistress would be here, and Zelda Zane would learn all kinds of new secrets.

---

Like what you read? Will you buy me a coffee and request something rich to sink my teeth into? Or peek into the depths of my longer fiction?

[polaraditia]

I almost forgot that a year ago, I submitted my writing to Slowly Story: my brief experience using Slowly app so far ...

If anyone doesn't know, Slowly is an app that we can exchange letters (like e-mail) with pen pals around the world with slow time pace where our letters need some time to be sent or received, depending on how far sender and receiver location. The farther the distance between the sender and the recipient, the longer it takes for the letter to arrive. You could say this is app is a kind of anti-instant messaging. haha.

... and a few days ago, I just received a confirmation email from Slowly Story team that my writing has been selected to be published (after a year!), finally!

Here's a little snippet:

Once upon a time, I was very active in writing, not a professional writer, just a personal blog writer and on various notes. However, it is only one-way and in the form of self-reflection and I was writing less and less and less. It was around the third quarter of 2018 that I thought, I need a ‘writing partner’, someone who looks forward and reads your writing and you look forward to its reply too, and I realized something, in all of my life I have never personally corresponded by mail. And I found SLOWLY. Maybe I already told some pen pals why I joined SLOWLY was primarily to learn to communicate in English and making friends was a bonus. And I have to correct it now, it turns out that so far, the reality is the opposite: that finding a writing partners/friends is my main goal. Somehow, the universe is listening...

You can read my story via link above