#moments that could replace therapy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

januaryembrs · 2 months

Text

THE KID SWINGS BACK | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [4]

Description: The THREE times things feel weird between Spencer and you because you're just best friends.

Length: 21k (this is HALF of what I wrote for this chapter before I split it into two parts :0)

Warnings: explicit hints of suicidal ideation, as I have said in the last two chapters, Bugsy has really struggled with losing Emily and has been in a bad place. it is mentioned once or twice but please read with caution if you feel topics of mental health, not vividly described but the effects of it, are mentioned. Spencer's addiction is also mentioned. Violence, blood, swearing, usual CM warnings. Also there is a brief mention of SA (bugsy gets spanked by a stranger in a casino), again if this is triggering please be cautious. EXPLOSION. Emily and bug argue + fight. Bug + hatch fight. Bugsy takes no prisoners in this one won't lie. Spencer and bugsy turn each other on accidentally.

authors note: this was supposed to be a lot longer (I've had to split it with the next part released in a few days time) and yet every time I tried to upload to Tumblr, it crashed because it was over 30k words ;-; OTHER HALF IS COMING SOON.

previous chpt | next chapter

‘If you take a swing, the kid swings back,

she say I’m not your punching bag,’

The one where Emily comes back.

She felt the headache as soon as she woke up. She’d experimented with Molly her first week of college, hated every second of it after she had prattled on for two hours to some other random freshman about the breakthrough research in enzyme-replacement therapy like she was catching him up on an episode of the Kardashians. She’d tried the odd few brownies, though they usually turned her stomach the next day and made her paranoid for about a week, before she swore them off entirely for their yummy, sober counterpart.

She should have known what to expect when she woke up, but then again, if she had been smart enough to pre-empt how awful she’d feel the next day, she probably wouldn’t have taken the little pink pill with a candied love heart on the top at all.

The duvet was soft against her face, and for a moment she didn’t care about anything except chasing the warmth it provided; just that she was cosy and it smelled nice, smelled familiar.

Her eyes pinged open when she realised that whatever that familiar smell was, it was very much not her own sheets. And she was very much not in the clothes she left the house in last night.

Bugsy sat up too fast, that much she knew, because in the time it had taken her to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, reach for the side table where she hoped to find her phone, a home phone, or just any working phone she could call someone off, she felt the room that smelled like a dream spinning around her.

Her legs turned to jelly, her stomach tossed with a mix of nerves and nausea, and, graceful as ever, she fell face first to the ground with a thud, smacking her temple off the corner of the bedpost on her way down.

“Fuck,” She whined, raising a hand to her brow that thudded with more than the side affects of last night, and she was quick to hear footsteps approaching as if in a half run. The door to the bedroom dragged on the thick sherpa carpet as it swung open, and she blinked wearily up at the culprit.

“Alright, up we get,” There were hands slipping under hers before she got a chance to see anything that wasn’t a blurry mess of brown hair and worried eyes, and it wasn’t until she heard his voice she felt herself sigh in relief, “Of course you wake up the second I turn around,”

“Sencer?,” She cleared her throat, hands latching onto his shoulders as he lifted her back onto the bed, “Spencer?” She tried again, her lips chapped, her skin clammy.

“Good morning, to you too,” His voice was soft, quieter than usual, like he knew just how delicate her head was and changed his tone accordingly, “Did you sleep well?”

“Morgan- where’s Morgan, I thought we…” She murmured, turning her head in confusion to the window where Spence had gone so far as to pull the curtains closed for her, seeing just the smallest crack of daylight filtering over the bed sheets. Her hands ran down his chest, her eyes lost and dazed, like someone had taken her batteries out, and Spencer took it as an opportunity to hand her the glass of water he’d got her and two advil.

“Morgan’s safe; he went home, he said he had a wonderful night,” Spencer lied, hoping she was just a little out of it that she didn’t catch him in it. She always knew when he was lying. But, as he’d suspected, she barely picked up on it, her lips pouting in confusion when she took note of the medicine he’d given her, “Drink up, Morgan said you did a lot of dancing last night, you’re probably dehydrated.”

“I did…” She echoed him, trailing off when the blur of the nightclub caught up to her, and she remembered exactly the last time someone had handed her a little tablet like those ones. Her heart plummeted, her eyes widening into saucers, and she swore she might have felt the glass crack beneath her palm with how tight her grip became. She looked up at him, and instantly picked apart the pity and the sadness swimming in his honey pooled eyes, “You know,”

He nodded softly, his hand coming up to stroke her hair away from her face, his gaze falling to where she felt something sore and achy forming on her forehead, bleeding into her brow.

“Spence-” Her own groan of pain cut her off when he brushed over the bump on her temple, and she understood she had perhaps hit it much harder than she’d initially thought.

“Let’s get you breakfast, and then we’ll talk,” He whispered softly, concern thick in his voice, and for the first time in months, she didn’t fight it. She just listened, and let him love her.

“God, I am truly pathetic,” She muttered, sipping her coffee with a scowl in between the maple ladened pancakes going down with a vicious chomp on her fork. Her other hand was occupied holding a bag of frozen peas to her head, where a nice dark bruise was spreading its way over the right side of her face, spider webbing out into a black eye.

“You’re not pathetic, everyone makes mistakes,” Spencer tried reassuring her, but he couldn’t help but smile as she devoured breakfast with the anger of a raccoon being dragged from a garbage bin, “You’re safe, that’s all that matters,”

She sighed, and Spencer didn’t actually think she had ever been so grumpy around him before, “Spencer, look at me,” He did, he had been all morning, but he did as he was told anyway, “I’m a federal agent who took molly from a frat boy all because I can’t just grieve like a normal person and cry my pathetic little heart out and be done with it. I crashed your night because I can’t even handle a little ecstasy without needing supervision and I just got into a fight with your bedframe,” She finished with a huff, dipping her next mouthful of pancake in the puddle of maple syrup she’d created on the plate, “And the fucking bedframe won.”

He smiled despite himself, reaching out to hold her wrist gently, making sure it was her turn to listen to him now, “Bug, I grew up being shoved into lockers and swirlied my whole life. I was the only kid in a classful of seniors that used to wedgie me so hard I had to have the school librarian, Mrs Addler, walk me between classes. Believe me, I’ve seen pathetic and you’re not- why are you crying, Bug, don’t cry,”

He remembered this bit, the mood swings, when he would pendulum between exhaustion and irritation straight into sadness and hopelessness, like there would never be an impasse between them unless he did more of the thing that had made him feel so awful in the first place. Still, he gently took the bag of now slightly soggy peas from her head, wrapping an arm around her back and scooching his chair to sit next to hers as she dropped onto his shoulder with a weepy sniff.

“I’m crying because I just thought of baby you all alone with Mrs Addler-” She sobbed loudly, and his heart bled out in his chest with warmth. No one had ever cried for him. “How could they be so cruel to you, I swear if we ever see those bastards, I’ll show them how we settled things in Russia-”

He chuckled, shaking his head, and she snuggled closer to him the way she had last night when the only thing keeping her on earth had been his body heat.

“It wasn’t all bad, she used to share her butterscotch with me,” He said with a small smile when she raised a wet glance at him.

“You know, you never have to be alone again, right?” Bugsy murmured, and he swore his heart might have just jumped right up into his mouth then and there, “You’re my best friend in the whole world, and I promise I’ll never leave you again. That was… selfish of me, I’m sorry I was so selfish.”

Spencer felt his throat tighten as he looked at her, innocent and entirely truthful, like he could ask anything from her right this second and her god’s honest words would be ‘Anything for you, Spencer, I’d do anything for you.’ He had never had anyone look at him like that, nothing even close.

“You’re my best friend too. And you weren’t selfish, you were grieving,” He choked out, and she tucked herself beneath his chin then, satisfied with the response, but his stomach turned sour when he remembered what he was going to tell her last night, what he should have told her months, years, ago instead of lying to her. Because he knew she would understand, knew she would get him the way no one else had even tried to, because she was just her. “I have to tell you something,”

She sat up straight, sensing the seriousness in his tone, and looked at him with imploring eyes, still sleep-addled and slightly wet around the edges.

He cleared his throat, “When I told you I was allergic to narcotics since I was born, that wasn’t entirely true, and I’m sorry I lied to you,” Her brows softened, creasing in a way that told him she was worried, or she knew where he was heading but couldn’t find a voice in her to say anything. He ran clammy palms over his pyjama pants, “There was a case, a while back, where we were tracking an UnSub to this farmhouse in the middle of Atlanta. Me and JJ got split up and the UnSub took me hostage in his father’s shed,”

She stayed quiet, but she quickly took his hand in hers when she saw him fidgeting with it in his lap. He smiled at her weakly, and squeezed her fingers gently, telling her he was okay to talk about it no matter if his chest was rattling and his face felt like fire.

“He was very sick, the UnSub. Tobias. He took on an alter of his dead father because he couldn't handle life without him. Even though his father was extremely violent and abusive, he still loved him enough to never want to let him go,” His lip pulled between his teeth for a moment, and he couldn’t look at her for what he was about to say, “Tobias tried giving me something to stop the pain of his father’s beatings when he would front and being a drug addict himself, the best thing he had was dilaudid. So, he gave it to me for the three days I was with him before the team found me,”

“Spence,” She said softly, knowing he would hate to hear an ‘I’m sorry’ because she hated those two words with a passion, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,”

“No, I want to, it’s just a little… fuzzy in parts,” He whispered, and she nodded, gently knocking her head against his jaw to let him know she was there to listen, “After the case wrapped up, everyone got home and just sort of pretended things went back to normal, even though I felt like I was drowning in everything that had happened, and the only thing I could think that had stopped the pain was the dilaudid. So I took more, and more, until I was using every other day, sometimes even at work to cope with the cases,”

“Did anyone know?” She asked, lips pressed tight as she scolded herself for talking, but he stroked her hand with his thumb to show he didn’t care if she asked questions, “Did Emily know?”

He nodded gingerly, “Everyone knew, but no one could do anything, or say anything, because otherwise Hotch would have to file a report on me, and I’d be forced to leave the team,”

“So no one helped?” She said, and there was an unexpected trace of anger in her tone that he knew too well. He’d be lying if he said that there were more than a handful of times when he was at his lowest he didn’t curse the team out for not giving a single shit about his condition. But when he’d sobered up, when he’d got clean and back to his usual self, he knew they were trying to do what was best, that they were in uncharted waters as to what would be the correct approach to helping him that wouldn’t diffuse a bomb that could ruin all of their careers.

“There was nothing they could do, Bug. If they said anything they would be just as liable as me for what I was doing, the same way Morgan and I aren’t going to say a word about what happened last night,” He pointed out, and she seemed bitter as if she knew he was right but hated the point of it anyway.

She held onto herself for long enough hearing that, and he saw it coming before it came as a shock when she threw her arms around him, hugging him tighter than she ever had before, not crying like she had been, but full to the brim of sadness and grief and mourning, as if she was trying to squeeze it all out of him so she could take it on for herself.

“You’re never going to be alone again, I swear, Spencer,”

And he believed her with everything in him.

–

Bugsy had been back in the field for five weeks now, looking healthier than ever thanks to Hotch’s insistence she joined Beth for triathlon practice despite the fact she really had started feeling more like herself.

It had only taken six months, but who was counting, right?

Sure, walking past Emily’s desk had stopped her in her tracks the first day she got back, and Morgan had quickly jumped in to distract her with a cup of coffee, leading her over to the kitchenette and far away from the empty table her sister’s things had once been on.

She was still adjusting to this alternate reality version of the BAU where Emily wasn’t there to protect her and watch out for her, and where they didn’t bicker about who got to ride shotgun with Hotch because Bug loved when he would drive fast (he pretended not to notice but would floor it when they hit the freeway), or when they would butt heads over who finished off the biscuits Emily kept in her secret stash (it was almost always Bugsy sharing them with Spencer and Penelope, when the three of them would gossip in Pen’s lair at lunchtime.)

She was adjusting, slowly yes, but there was one thing to keep her going, to keep her holding her head high as she walked past Emily’s picture on the way, full of smiles and dark hair the day she’d been instated in the bureau, her excitement tangible even through a piece of paper and a thin sheet of glass.

There was one thing keeping her going, and it wasn’t Penelope’s cheerful good mornings she showered her in the minute she entered the building, it wasn’t Beth’s runs that would take everything out of her even though she felt stronger than she ever had, it wasn’t Rossi’s insistence on cooking for her once or twice a week because ‘he had more wine he could ever need alone and she could stir the pasta while he chopped the meat’, and it wasn’t even Spencer sticking to her side like damn velcro since she had been back. Although, they played a pretty big part in it.

No, the one thing keeping her going was revenge.

Morgan had let it slip accidentally, the morning she had come back into the headquarters to fill in some forms with Hotch and Strauss before Hotch was reassigned to Pakistan, when she had slinked into his office with an apology ready at her lips for the way she had behaved, to which he was going to say he had no idea what she was talking about because that was how things had to be, only to find file upon file upon caseload on Ian Doyle splayed all over his desk, and she quickly realised Derek was not one to let sleeping dogs lie either.

And, reluctantly, he had let her help, because he hated the idea of them keeping secrets from her. Especially ones that involved them secretly tracking down the guy who killed her sister, who had threatened to abduct, torture and kill her if Emily hadn’t gone after him first.

Because Bugsy was always going to be her little sister, no matter how grown and headstrong and stubborn as an ass she was. And Emily had had zero intention of letting Bugsy come even close to danger at the hands of Ian Doyle or any other motherfucker dumb enough to think they’d get away unscathed making threats to her sister. Which was why Emily had been the one to track him down first, no matter who she had to trample on, what lines she had to cross.

And now it was Bug’s turn to reciprocate the favour.

The one thing that bounced around her head with every step she took across the BAU floor was how Ian Doyle would look when she dragged him to hell and back and everything in between, when she made him burn the way she had burnt.

Hotch had been away on temporary duty for the month, bar the occasional phone call where he checked in on her directly or through Spencer, and it wasn’t until she walked into Morgan in a blunt exchange with his own cell that she realised he was perhaps closer to coming home than she’d thought.

The man nodded, and bid the mystery caller goodbye before he flicked a look up to where Bugsy had entered his office with a cup of to-go coffee and an expression of intrigue.

“We got him,” Morgan said, and it was the three words she had been waiting to hear for two hundred and fifteen days.

They had found Doyle.

She was in the back of an SUV not even two hours later, strapped to her neck with tactical gear and two loaded pistols holstered at her hips.

“You’re sure you’re alright to do this?” JJ asked from her place beside her, noting the way the girl’s leg was bouncing, her fingers twitching as the three of them crowded around the screen linked to the surveillance camera set up outside Doyle’s apartment, Spencer and David watching an identical feed in the next block over, outside the safe house his son, Declan, was supposed to be in.

Only, when they’d arrived, the little blonde haired, blue eyed boy that was the only thing Doyle gave a damn about in the world was gone, two agents and his nanny lying dead on the floor.

“Put it this way, JJ, I’m going in after that son of a bitch whether you guys cover me or not, and it would be real nice to have back up,” Bugsy said simply, like she was reciting the weather, not ready to rain hellfire on anyone who got in between her and wringing Doyle’s neck.

The blonde woman exchanged a look with Derek, the two of them cautious about her behaviour, but thought better than to try stop her when she had just as much right as any of them for justice.

Before any of them could say another word, a car sped around the corner of the cul-de-sac, veering and wavering between parked cars, narrowly missing theirs by an inch, and red-blue blaring lights came racing after it within seconds, the siren full blast and no doubt waking the neighbours.

Or at least one neighbour in particular, as they spotted the curtains twitching in Doyle’s apartment, and they had their first sign of life in hours.

“He’s in there, someone’s in there,” Bugsy pointed to where the fabric moved in the dead of the night, unholstering one of her weapons and bursting the back door to the SUV open.

JJ clicked her radio on, speaking into her shoulder as Morgan was a hair width behind Bugsy, equally armed and ready, “We got movement on Doyle, we’re heading up to search his apartment,”

“Be careful, keep an eye on the kid,” Rossi ordered, he and Spencer adjusting their positions in their SUV, waiting for forensics to show up and investigate the nanny’s house. Spencer licked his lips nervously, and he could only imagine what was going through Bugsy’s mind at that moment, wishing more than ever she could have just stayed with him and let Morgan and JJ catch Doyle.

But she would never. She had nearly ripped Rossi’s head off for suggesting it even.

–

She’d seen him move up to the roof, had taken the stairs in twos, and she felt like kissing Aaron the second she saw him for all that cardio paying off a treat. She heard Morgan panting behind her, urging her to wait up so she wasn’t going in alone, but she didn’t listen, not when she was this close to getting that rat in her grasp and squeezing the life out of him barehanded.

She kicked down the door leading to the roof from the stairwell, her pistol drawn high and sharp and Morgan’s steps racing up behind her were the only sound for a moment.

He was here somewhere, watching them, god only hoped they had caught him unaware before he could call in his own backup.

Taking a careful step out onto the concrete, willing herself to take a deep breath and calm herself; she checked her nine o’clock, checked her three, before her boots crunched under her and she moved further out onto the roofing. Flicking a look around again, her eyes squinted against the moonlight that did little to no good, searching for even the smallest movements that would give him away.

“I heard you wanted to see me, Doyle,” She said loudly, hoping he would fit the profile they’d put together and want to tie up his loose ends once he realised who she was, “Truth is, I’ve been wanting to see you too,”

She had barely a second to react as she felt something hard slam across the back of her head, and she realised he had hit her with a rogue, loose pipe, hard enough for her to stumble forward, dropping her pistol when his body soon followed to tackle her completely to the ground in the effort to grab for the gun himself.

But she felt like body was alive with excitement, like the pain in her skull didn’t ache, didn’t matter, because she had him in her reach.

It took her barely a second to bring her elbow into his stomach, winding him hard enough he weakened his grip on top of her, then another hit square across his jaw, another to his temple, one to his already crooked nose and she threw a downward thump into his groin for good measure.

He hissed, cursing her something vile, and it was only then she saw the grey-blue eyes of the man who had killed her sister with no remorse, who had taken the person she loved unconditionally within a blink of an eye.

“You recognise me?” She said, a manic smile on her face as she raised the other gun from its holster, kicking him hard in the knee she’d seen him limping on, a bullet wound shaped scar giving his weakness away in seconds.

She wasn’t the only enemy he’d made in that business of his, but she sure as hell would be his last one.

He fell to the floor, his eyes wary as he looked up at the girl he had spent weeks collating photos of, the girl he’d had two of his best men tracking, snapping pictures of her going about her day to day life before he sent them to Emily. Because she would know what that meant no words needed.

This was her sister. Her little sister she had fought tooth and nail for, that she had given her life for. Her sister, who had the same rock solid loyalty to her family as Lauren had.

“Do you want to know where you went wrong, Doyle?” She asked, and her voice wasn’t calm like her body was, it was hiding the glee she was taking from his alarmed expression, like they both knew she was the last person he would have expected to be grabbing him in the night, “Your mistake, Doyle, was not killing me first,”

She raised her finger to the trigger, feeling for a second the same thrill as when she popped that molly just to forget everything that was happening. Because she had tunnel vision, and pulling the plug on Ian Doyle’s pathetic existence was the solution.

Until Morgan’s hand came over hers, and his voice was closer than she’d expected to her ear. She’d barely heard him creep up on her, she realised with a jolt.

“Don’t do this, kid,”

“He deserves it,” She spat, hating the sorrow in his voice when he pointed the gun away from Doyle who wiped his fingers beneath his nostrils and pulled back with a wince and a blob of blood over the back of his hand.

“I know he does. But we need to find Declan, and we can’t do that without him,” Morgan’s voice was deep and bitter, knowing full well he had to be the one to take the reins as much as he would love to just let her have at him.

Her nose scrunched in disgust when Doyle laughed at her annoyance, and she quickly holstered her weapon, pulling the cuffs out of her back pocket and helping Morgan yank him off the floor.

“I got some friends that would love to meet you, honey,” Doyle said through a wheezing breath, despite Morgan’s rough hands shoving him forward towards the stairwell.

She chuckled however, her face still bitter, her eyes something nasty and wild as she flanked his other side, “Don’t worry, I have some friends for you to play with too, Doyle.” She tightened her grip on his arm just to make it hurt, “I wonder how the Chernuses would feel about you and your men being so close to their turf. You ever fucked with the Russian Mob, Ian?”

His smile wiped clean off his face at that.

“How’s it going?” Hotch asked, and she barely had time to comment on the fact he looked rather dashing with a beard and a tan, or that he had lost ten pounds, before he was straight back to business, even after an eighteen hour flight.

“He won’t talk. He said the only person who could have helped us find Gerace would have been Emily.” She replied, rubbing her hands over her eyes with a huff, “Just another dead end,” She threw the file onto the roundtable, which was slowly piling up with documents relating to anyone Ian Doyle had ever had relations with.

Hotch’s face tightened. He took a single moment to enjoy the calm that overcame the room, took a second to enjoy the fact she was looking normal and healthy compared to when he had all but barged into her apartment to force her on a run.

Because he knew the normalcy they had found themselves in now was about to be flipped on its head, JJ confirming with a nod from the other side of the room that she was on her way.

He turned to look where Morgan, Rossi and Reid had walked in, Reid stroking a gentle hand over Bugsy’s hair where she hunched over the table and flicked through some files for anything to keep her mind off of going into that interrogation room and ripping into Doyle. She flicked a small smile up at him as he passed her, leaning over her shoulder to take half her workload off her.

She looked happier than she had in months, and he was about to take it all away again. Hotch swallowed the self loathing that threatened to choke him alive, and opened his mouth.

“Everybody have a seat,” The team looked up at him in confusion, but followed orders, JJ moving around the table to stand beside him, the same reluctant look on her face when she saw Bugsy’s frown.

“Why?” Morgan asked, seeing as no one else was going to, “What’s going on? Everything alright?”

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team,” Hotch began, his eyes immediately flicking to where the youngest Prentiss faltered, “As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilise her,”

Bugsy’s ears started ringing just hearing her sister’s name coming from his lips, said so casually and blunt that it felt like he had punched her in the stomach and she thought she was maybe over estimating how well she had overcome the grief.

And that hadn’t even been the worst part, she quickly realised. The doctors were able to stabilise her.

“And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need to know. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security,” Hotch said, avoiding the piercing eyes that were slowly melting between confusion to heartache to one she finally could land on, horror.

No one breathed for a moment, no one said a thing as the words sunk in, and she felt her entire body wash over with a gut wrenching numbness as it dawned on her what he was saying.

Emily never died on that table like JJ had said. She had never died at all.

“What?” Her voice was tiny and childlike when it came out, and she felt like she was stuck in the world’s worst nightmare, like she could claw and scratch and rip at her skin just to wake herself up from this terrifying dream where Hotch had lied and Emily had left her and everyone who was supposed to care about her had kept her in the dark.

“She’s alive?” Garcia asked, tears in her own green lined eyes, looking at Hotch with utter shock.

“But we buried her,” Spencer found it in himself to murmur, because none of this made sense and if any of what Hotch was saying was true, then he knew things were about to become really ugly.

“As I said I take full responsibility for the decision; if anyone has any issues, they should be directed towards me,” And it was only then he looked at Bugsy fully, properly, since he had opened his mouth.

He could have swore he had never seen such complete and utter betrayal written across someone’s face, let alone directed towards him. Because he knew that’s what it was. He knew he had taken every scrap and shred of trust she had placed in him since that day she ran away from her own wedding and found herself stuck in that very same office, hugging him tightly with her sodden veil and even more soaked white dress, he had taken everything vulnerable she had ever given him and spat it right back at her.

He felt like crying but before he could think too hard about it, he saw Emily walking down the hall and her own face was just as, if not more, devastated than his own and he knew he had to be the one to stay strong.

Garcia’s head snapped to the doorway, the sight of it leading Spencer and Rossi to do the same, and Morgan’s face morphed into anguish when he took a look for himself.

Because there, looking like a glowing beacon of everything they’d been missing in seven months, was Emily Prentiss, alive and well.

She seemed lost for words, her eyes falling to her sister who seemed to force herself to look up at her from where she was staring in wide eyed terror at the table, as if she was struggling to comprehend any of this, or like the building was falling down around her and she was in complete fight, flight or freeze.

But she did, she looked up at her after a second, her face unrecognisable to Emily for a moment, and it took all of three moments where she seemed relieved to see her, before it curled into a vitriolic anger Emily had never, never seen from her.

She looked like she was ready to kill her with her bare hands herself.

Penelope was first out of her seat, practically flying across the room to grab her close friend in a hug, a complete bubble of sobs and wails, her pigtails shaking with her rattling chest as Emily hugged her tight to her.

“Oh, my god, it’s real-you’re real- like I can actually touch you and you’re safe and not in that god awful box-” Penelope was a catalyst for the rest of the team standing up to take their turn crying on the woman’s shoulder.

That is, the rest of the team except Bugsy.

She remained in her seat, her gaze falling back to the mess of files that all of a sudden felt a complete waste of time, felt irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Who cared who was Doyle’s financial advisor between the years of 2005 and 2007 when Emily was alive and they had known the whole time.

And the more she thought, the more furious she got. And then the more furious she got, the stiller she became; an atomic bomb ready to detonate at the slightest prod.

“I am so sorry, I really am,” Emily said as Spencer had wrapped his giant arms around her tentatively, smelling her perfume and feeling his heart ache with how warm and alive and healthy her body felt. “Not a day went by that I didn’t-”

But a sound cut her off, one none of them were expecting in the slightest.

Bugsy was laughing.

Not the sweet chirp she normally gave, or the hearty one that came from her gut that they hadn’t heard in months, but something manic. Something frenzied, beserk. Deranged.

Hotch’s head snapped to her, Emily’s too, though she had already taken note of the fact her sister hadn’t so much as moved from her feet, and stupidly she had hoped it was the shock sinking in.

But her eyes were cruel, her teeth more of a snarl than a smile and the laugh she gave was that of a person over the edge.

The straw that broke the camel’s back, she believed it was called.

“She never made it off the table,” Bugsy imitated woefully, her eyes snapping to JJ, who felt smaller than she ever had under the hatred in them, though the girl’s nasty smile hadn’t let up, “You are good, Jennifer. You really got me there, hey maybe if the agent thing doesn’t work out then acting is alway an option for you,”

“Bug-” Hotch started, only for her to stand up so harshly her chair nearly tipped back, but she didn’t seem to care as she rounded the table towards him in a bitter chuckle.

“And you! I didn’t know you had it in you. But very good, Hotch, very well played out. For a second I thought you actually gave a fuck about me,” She fist bumped his shoulder, a little harsher than something innocent behind it, before something spiteful settled in her tone, “But then again, you are nothing if not professional, aren’t you? I guess a suicide on your team would look terrible on your report card,”

“I think you need to calm down and let’s talk about this for a second,” Hotch tried to jump in, his brows furrowed enough to make him look annoyed but anyone with two eyes could see the worry that brewed there, that chased her as she retreated to where her jacket was slung over the back of her seat. She laughed again viciously, shaking her head. Grabbing her coat, she headed for the door where Emily stood helplessly, not knowing what to say for the best, and she thought for a minute her little sister was going to address her.

But she didn’t; didn’t even look her way as she approached, and it wasn’t until Hotch rounded the room after her with a fixed gaze she showed any sign of stopping. Not until he reached for her arm with a tight grip, a call of her name, did she even halt in her step.

“Stop, let’s just talk,”

“Let go of me,” Bugsy snapped, and it was the first time she actually gave way to the anger she felt, the amusement coming from a place of distraught long gone. She sounded pissed.

“Listen to me, we had no choice here,” Hotch barked, because it was the only way he could communicate when he felt this lost. And that’s what he was; he was losing her. They all were. “And I would have thought you’d be able to stop being so spoiled for one god damn second to see we were protecting-”

Her palm whirled around faster than he could have ever anticipated, slapping clean and sharp against his cheek, hard enough the air was sucked out of the room and his words died in his throat.

Penelope gasped. Spencer’s eyes widened. Emily took a heavy gulp.

“Bugsy!” Emily said in horror, and it was then her little sister’s eyes actually set on hers, every bit as cruel and hateful she’d expected.

“I want nothing to do with you, do you hear me? I don’t want to talk to you, or see you, don’t even speak that name, I don’t want it from you anymore,” Bugsy pointed at her with crooked, bitten nails Emily knew all too well, “You left me. You left me.”

With those three choked words, the other’s could only watch hurricane Bugsy whirl and burn and crash her way out of the room.

–

She sat on the steps to the federal building, perfectly dressed agents filtering around her with the occasional tut in disgust.

She couldn’t really blame them; her face was wet with tears, she was pretty sure there was snot running out of her nose hastily, and between her free hand, the other of which was pulling at her hair, was a cigarette that swirled its grey smoke around her head with a horribly addictive smell.

She heard footsteps approaching her from the back, different from the rest, and felt someone stop beside her, sliding to their ass on the step.

“Spencer, if you’re going to tell me this is taking seven minutes off my life then please can it wait for another day-” Bugsy started with a tearful cadence, only to be cut off by a woman’s voice.

“I was actually going to ask if you had a lighter,” Erin Strauss said, pulling her own menthol cigarette between her lips, and Bugsy dug around her pocket for the cheap ‘I <3 Virginia’ lighter she had snagged on New Years, clicking the flame out long enough for her boss’s boss to light the tip, “I heard you gave Aaron a shock,”

Bugsy stayed silent, taking a drag that burnt her lips and tasted awful, but it was the only thing she could turn to that would calm her even in the slightest, even if it was just the chemicals.

“Bit of an understatement,” She mused, exhaling softly with a frown, “Did you know?”

“Are you going to slap me too if I said yes?” Erin asked, and Bugsy gave a small, wet chuckle, shaking her head, “Would it matter if I did?”

“No, I guess not,” She replied, breathing in through her nose, “I want to feel sorry, but all I feel is just … empty. Why did JJ and Hotch know what happened to her but she didn’t think to tell her own sister?”

“Probably because you’re the one she loves the most,” Strauss picked over the hem of her navy blue midi dress that had been pressed neatly just that morning, and now here she was sitting on the steps to her building helping a girl in crisis chainsmoke, “It was how she ended up there in the first place, right? Because she wanted to protect you,”

“She left me torturing myself for months that her death was all my fault; believe me protection was not what I needed,” Bugsy said harshly, her final drag reaching the brown stub, and she scowled as she doubted it on the concrete floor below her, tucking her knees up to her face and resting her head on them.

Erin sighed, patting her on the back gently, not wanting to cross any lines for such a fragile girl, but not wanting to leave her entirely alone either.

“Our most basic instinct is not for survival but for family.” Strauss quoted, taking one more breath of her own cigarette before she squished it under her heel quickly. “Paul Pearsall,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bug asked quietly, tilting her head onto her cheek to look over at the woman.

“It means you can hate her as much as you can right now, but sooner or later, you’re going to need her, or she’s going to need you, and you’ll wish you never pushed each other away,”

2. The one where you pretend to be a couple.

Her hair was shorter, Bugsy noted, where she saw the back of her sister’s head from her desk. It looked nice, not that she would tell her that.

She wouldn’t tell her anything.

It had been eight weeks, three of which Bugsy had spent taking a leave of absence and been forced to see the designated federal councillor for her behaviour towards Hotch. She had gone to the handful of sessions to keep him off her back, but had stayed quiet for most of them, except the one where she got the psychologist to tell her the dirt on her recent, messy break up so they’d have something to talk about at least.

She had only really been speaking to Spencer the weeks since she had returned to work, had handed the slip of paper that declared her fit to work to Hotch with a smug look on her face, daring him to extend her sick leave as punishment for the tantrum she’d thrown.

She knew it was dragging, knew most of the team were at least trying to adjust to the shellshock of Emily being back from the dead, but then again, the rest of the team hadn’t been writing their own eulogy so the burden wouldn’t fall onto someone else if they ever found her unresponsive.

In the time Emily had supposedly been dead, her mind had wandered someone cold and dark and alone. Worse than any of them had ever thought it had been, worse than they gave her credit for.

Only for it to be fake. As though she was the star of her own Truman show, with a laugh track playing on loop in the back; her own friends, people she’d considered family, watching her kicking and screaming and fighting through every breath for some sort of relief from the pain, a pawn in their little sitcom of horrors.

Morgan had forgiven her sister with little resistance. She’d always known that, to Morgan, trust was higher than anything in his books. Yet with some soft words and tears shed, Derek had cracked and accepted Emily back warmly like nothing had happened. Rossi and Penelope had just been happy to see her, happy to have her back and very much not dead, so convincing them she was innocent had been no big feat. The only other person who had put up nearly as much fight as her had been Spencer. He had told her about the spat he and JJ had gotten into for being an accomplice to their pain, but even he was beginning to warm back up to her sister, not that she could really blame him.

Emily was putting in overtime trying to get back into her good books, while she couldn’t even stand to look at her without remembering how hard she’d cried when she realised Nico and Sergio would be in her apartment alone and confused if she had been sad enough to do something rash.

“Good Morning,” Emily’s voice was nails in a chalkboard, two arms winding over her shoulder to plonk two take out coffees in front of her and Spencer, one with his name written in black ink on the lid and the other with a dozen hearts dotted over the cup, a little doodle of a lady bug and a bumble bee cuddling. What she supposed was meant to be the two of them.

Spencer watched Bugsy fight the urge to roll her eyes, surprisingly somewhat progress for her since the first two weeks of Emily even being near her resulted in the two of them screaming at one another until they were separated. Emily was growing tired of being punished for trying to keep her sister safe, Bugsy was full of hatred for every lie they had told her.

But he saw the way she immediately knocked the coffee into the trash without a second thought, ignoring the fact she would need to take out a very heavy and wet bin liner later, if only to drive the point home to her older sister. I don’t want your charity.

Emily faltered for a second, her eyes snapping to him as if he could do or say anything to help her out, but he could only give her one of his awkward, straight smiles, because he had absolutely no intention of pushing Bugsy to heal any faster than she was doing like everyone else was, nor did he want Emily to feel like he didn’t care she was hurting too.

Emily gave a resigned nod, daring to pat her sister on the shoulder. “Better in the trash than thrown over my face, right?”

She moved away from the woman’s desk, shooting a disheartened look at Reid as she passed him and he murmured ‘thankyou’ for his own coffee, until the sound of JJ calling them into the round table room cut off whatever she was going to say back.

Spencer thoughtlessly handed Bugsy his own latte, smothered with caramel and cream the way he liked it, and she took an appreciative sip without a word.

He hadn’t brought up that night, hadn’t spoken about the way she’d pressed her lips to his for a split second the night Morgan had dragged her over to his apartment to sober up. And because she hadn’t brought it up either, he assumed she didn’t want to talk about it anymore than she wanted to talk about what had got her there in the first place.

He had helped her brush her own teeth more than once in the early days of her grief, hell he had even had her lips against his, so when she handed him the coffee cup back, he didn’t think much of it when he continued drinking the hot caffeinated goodness.

Bugsy was wired differently in his brain, everything about her was different than how he felt about everyone else. So if she didn’t want to talk about kissing him, if she wanted to forget it ever happened, then he would swallow his feelings and accept she didn’t ever want to do it again. If she wanted to keep the bond they had carefully crafted through days and months and weeks of being each other’s solace, then he wouldn’t fight it. Because he didn’t want to ruin it either.

He just nudged her gently with his shoulder as they meandered up the stairs to the round table room, looking at her with the puppy dog eyes that usually followed her around when she was in one of her silent moods.

“You okay?” He asked carefully, noting the way she tugged her files to her chest, smiling up at him nevertheless. Because she could never be mad at him, it was Spencer.

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” She said, lowering her voice as Morgan trailed behind the two of them his own mug of fresh brewed coffee sloshing in his hand, “Pretend like you don’t forgive her for my sake. I want you to be friends again if that’s what you want,”

She’d noticed his sheepish glances when he met Emily’s gaze, unmoving from her side like he wanted to make it clear he was there for her above everything else. But she saw how he would smile and joke with her sister when he thought she was in the bathroom, or when they would return from a crime scene, working together again like a well oiled machine.

They were still friends, even if she felt sick every time she saw her sister’s noir black bangs flick her way, even if her heart was aching and her chest heavier than she would have ever let on.

“But you’re upset with her?” Spencer muttered back, with a frown on his face, “I’m upset you got so hurt by the whole thing. I’m essentially hurt by proxy,”

She snickered, leaning into his side for a moment, pulling away when they reached Rossi’s office and began walking past the long window she saw everyone settling down behind, “I appreciate that, Spence, I do. But you were her friend first, and she’s my sister. It’s different for you guys. And it’s not like we’re dating, because then I’d be allowed to be upset if you were still friends with her,” She explained lightly, though she felt her chest pick up at the very fact she had let that silly little dating word slip past her lips.

She had no idea where they were. He was the only thing keeping her together some days, the only one who understood her for all her silly, complex feelings and didn’t make her feel dumb or crazy for feeling the world so deeply. He was special to her in a way no guy had ever even come close.

She just wished she hadn’t made such an idiot of herself that night with Morgan; wished she remembered anything of what was said or done, because things had felt electrified since then and she had no idea why. All she knew was she was falling harder for him every time he stood so close, or offered her his drink, or every time they had a movie night at his and fell asleep on his couch pressed together like they were meant to be that way forever.

He sighed, still stuck on the situation, and shot her a frown, “I’ll never understand the rules,” Though he hoped she didn’t see how his cheeks tinged pink at the fact she’d brought up whatever it was between them too.

Because he wasn’t entirely talking about her and Emily. Sometimes, he really didn’t understand the rules of telling your best friend you were in love with her.

The press was calling him “The Circle of Eight killer,” no matter how much media liaison JJ had tried to do to stop them from giving him notoriety and possibly boosting an already inflated ego. But the team had already managed to profile that the killings were some sort of ritual the UnSub was using to turn his luck on a gambling addiction, or whatever suspicion he had mentally linked from the victims needing to die and being dealt a royal flush.

“Eighty eight dollars, the UnSub’s getting generous,” She said grimly, her gloved fingers counting the wad of cash tossed over the victim’s body. Where they had usually found eight, single dollar bills and an eight card of any suit, his signature seemed to have changed on the most recent body and he had dumped a much larger sum of money, “There’s more remorse with this kill too; shot from behind so he didn’t have to see the victim when he did it,”

Bugsy slipped the cash into a clear baggie to send to forensics to see if they could pull prints, but then again bills usually gave a million possible UnSubs with how many people touched them. “There’s less rage here, an undoing,” Emily chimed in, her own gloved fingers checking the victim’s pockets for anything off.

When they were in the field, Bug could hold her eye rolls and sharp tongue and resting bitch face for the sake of helping the victim’s families find closure. Because, despite how much she seethed in private about how Hotch, JJ and her own sister had conspired without her, she knew she could choke it down if it meant she could help someone, if it meant no one else had to grieve as deeply and gut wrenching as she had when Emily ‘died’.

“There’s no sign of robbery either, wallet is still intact except his ID,” Spencer added, standing back from the body while Bugsy handed the evidence off to CSI and the chief on the case headed their way.

“Is it even the same guy?” Agent Goslin asked, looking between Hotch and Emily for an explanation, Hotch shaking his head with a stoney look on his already tired face.

“The ritual’s too similar to discount,” He said, Bugsy frowning and tugging her lip between her teeth in thought.

“The change in MO makes sense if the UnSub is still refining his system, maybe killing the cashier at the gas station didn’t work so he’s back to the drawing board.” Emily speculated, her little sister nodding along with her in the first sign of agreement she’d seen all day.

“Two eights instead of one could also be significant; I know in China the number eight symbolises prosperity, the more eights the better. As a matter of fact, in Chengdu, a telephone number consisting of all eights recently sold for over a quarter of a million dollars,” Spencer said, and Bugsy flashed a look up at him, her eyes thoughtful.

“In ancient Egypt, the number seven represented completion in this life while the number eight represented success through ambition and determination in your reincarnated life,” She replied, peeling the gloves down her hands as they clung to her skin with tight clamminess, “And the eight pointed star is associated with the Babylonian goddess, Ishtar, or the light bringer,”

He nodded with her and he hated to admit that he loved that she managed to fill in the gaps in his own knowledge, like they were two puzzle pieces finding a way to fit together; like they were two halves cleaved from the same brain that hadn’t stopped growing in the entirety of her twenty seven years.

That, and he’d always found her brain one of the most attractive things about her. One of the long list he could think of.

“Why would he be doubling up on his luck out here, away from all the casinos?” Emily asked, because she was trying not to stand in awe of her sister’s fat brain that rivalled even their pretty boy.

“There’s been another killing,” Agent Goslin stated, hanging up the phone with a tense frown on her face, “A guest in his room at the Sapphire Lady,”

“Same ritual?” Hotch asked without a pause, because they were on body number five now and they were barely closer to understanding him than they were a few hours ago.

“No. His neck was broken. And he was robbed of $50,000.” Goslin replied, shaking her head, “Strange thing is? The killer left another $20,000 behind with the body,”

“Money isn’t his motive here,” Bugsy input, crossing her arms while Hotch got on the phone to Garcia, “Atleast, not that guy’s money,”

“Garcia, is there a casino in the neighbourhood of Penrose and Morningside Avenue?” He asked, clicking the perky woman onto speakerphone.

They heard a quick clatter of typing, “Uhhh, No casinos per se, but there’s a private gambling establishment right around the corner.” She replied helpfully, with another bout of her long, delicately painted nails against her keyboard.

“Is it legal?”

“Yeah, but it’s ultra exclusive. They have a monthly high-stakes poker tournament,” She paused for a second, “Today being the day for the month, coincidentally enough,”

“Or no coincidence at all,” Emily said, as they began putting together exactly where this chain of events had come from.

“What’s the buy in?” Bugsy asked, though she already guessed the answer.

“Yikies, $50,000,” And with that Bug and Reid exchanged a knowing look, her suspicion confirmed, “But, it’s a million dollar guarantee if you win,”

“What time does it start?” Hotch asked, Bugsy already rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingertip, willing herself not to be right about what they were going to do.

“Later this evening,” Pen replied and Hotch thanked her, hanging up the phone. A second of silence spread around the crime scene.

“So, if anyone’s got fifty k lying around, now would be a great time to share with the group,” Busgy humoured herself with a straight face, realising the paperwork that would almost definitely be declined if Strauss had anything to say about it the would enable them to borrow fifty thousand from the government.

Because if they missed their chance tonight, she had no clue when they would get another.

–

“Any luck?” JJ asked, Emily sat to her right, Rossi across from her. Spencer and Bugsy sat on the end of the table, the girl breaking a KitKat in half to share with him, which he accepted happily.

“No, they don’t want to allocate emergency funds for the buy-in, I’m still working on it,” Hotch said shortly, his phone blowing up with messages, no doubt needing a lot more details if they were really going to get the money they needed.

“Well, I can’t imagine why not, we’re only asking for fifty thousand bucks of taxpayer money, so that FBI agents can play Texas Hold ‘em,” Rossi drawled, shaking his head with a cynical humour that was all they had to hold onto while they waited in limbo.

“Hey, what about you?” Emily asked, something mischievous in her eyes as she watched David freeze in his seat, so like the old Emily that Bugsy felt her stomach turn.

“What about me what?” David said with a frown, pausing in his writing for a moment.

“You could stake us the buy-in,” She suggested, and the other three members of the team turned their attention back to Rossi’s palling face.

“You’re a best selling author,” Spencer chimed in, devouring the last of the chocolatey biscuit snack as she pulled another out of her bag.

“No,” Rossi replied, slightly wide eyed at the suggestion of it, to which Emily jumped in.

“Why not?”

“One, it’s against regulations and I’d like to hold onto this job for a little while longer.” David said, his arms out in a defensive stance towards the four people who suddenly felt like his kids asking for the newest IPhone on the market for Christmas.

“It’s a minor administrative violation,” Bugsy pointed out between bites, offering the second half again to her best friend who took it without delay.

She could have given the whole thing to him to start with, and had the first one for herself, it would have ended the same, but she liked sharing with him. She liked being the one to split things with him when he cringed in horror at other people touching his food.

“And, two, I prefer to spend my money on actual things, like single malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork,”

“Poker chips are things!” Emily tried to reason, but it only ended with David scoffing in her cheeky, hopeful face.

“Maybe just think of it as a new experience, I mean at your age how often does that happen?” Spencer said innocently, licking the chocolate from the tips of his fingers, noticing how Bugsy tensed up and Rossi slowly turned in his seat to face the BAU’s youngest members.

“At my what?” He asked in an aghast tone, Bug grabbing onto Spencer’s forearm with a gentle squeeze.

“Reel it in, reel it in,” She whispered, and he looked at her with a lost expression, willing her to explain to him where he had gone wrong, because he knew she would, “What he meant to say was this may be our only chance to get this guy,”

David chewed his words for a second, as if he was trying not to bite at the kids who looked between one another hopefully, and he wondered if this was what being a father felt like; handing his credit card over to two twenty something year olds and watching his bank deposit plummet in seconds.

“All right. Fine.” He sighed heavily like he’d seen the fifty thousand burned there and then, “I’m a decent poker player, but I can’t promise that I can stay in the game long enough to…”

“You know what? I bet you’re a great poker player,” Emily started kindly, her gaze drifting over to the hazel hues that watched between them curiously, “But what if we sent in Reid?”

“I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin and Pahrump because of my card counting ability,” Spencer said, and Bugsy rolled her eyes.

“They can’t ban you for maths, that’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” She said, nudging his side with her shoulder, “They hate to see an underdog win, it’s Rocky all over again,”

“Tell me about it,” He murmured back, even though he had never watched any of the Rocky movies, he just liked humouring her.

“Look I know I’m not a genius like the boy wonder here, but poker is not black jack. It’s about bluffing; reading human nature, head games.” Rossi pointed at Reid, who badgered over Bugsy’s shoulder for the cookies she had packed in her rucksack, “The kid does not have a poker face.”

“Which is why we’re going to send him with someone who does,” JJ chimed in, and it was then that the youngest members of the team looked up from where they had cracked open the packet of chocolate chip delights, near identical looks of innocence painted on their faces, like they really were kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Bugsy looked between JJ and Rossi, who had equal parts hopeful and worried looks on their faces, before she glanced over to Spencer to see if he had any explanation. He looked as lost as she did.

“Huh?” She asked cluelessly, as Rossi buried his head in his hands.

At this rate was going to have to remortgage his house for wedding number four, he thought sourly.

–

“I swear to god if this dress rides up anymore, it will be me who’s charging fifty thousand per head,” Bugsy growled, her hands frantically tugging the dress down her legs more. She couldn’t deny it was a beautiful dress, bunched around certain areas that made the most of her body, but goodness was it shorter than she would have ever picked out for herself. She was the last person to be a prude when it came to showing off just how alluring she could look when she made an effort, but this was something else.

It was a striking red, meant to match the ruby of her lipstick and the vermillion of the diamonds and hearts on the cards spread around the tables in the room, flushed in between little plastic chips worth thousands of dollars, handfuls of dice being tossed over the green velvet surfaces, deciding whether the players lost their cars or paid off their kids college fund.

They queued up to be patted down, as if they were heading through airport security or into a packed nightclub. A handful of bouncers waved metal detectors over patron’s clothing, dipping hands into coat pockets, trousers, even some shoes were ordered off in the name of a fair game. She swore she had never seen so many sets of weighted dice confiscated off one man who swore blind as he was kicked out.

“Only fifty? You could rinse them for a hundred at least,” Spencer replied, his arm entwined behind her back, if not to hold her up in the clunky heels one of the women on Goslin’s task force had loaned her along with the dress. She smirked at him, pressing herself closer to him when they both saw a dozen eyes shoot towards her as they entered the building, and he tightened his grip just the slightest with a calculating coolness.

He wished his cheeks didn’t feel so hot feeling her body so close to his, wished she hadn’t made such an effort to look the part of the expensive call girl they knew the UnSub had a history with, not because he didn’t like it, but because she made everything a little more difficult when she looked like that.

He was having a hard time trying to calm the way his manhood brushed against his pants whenever she showed some of that saccharine affection, even though he knew it wasn’t real. Or atleast, was an extreme version of the love she usually showed him.

The bouncers called them up next, and he let her go first, because getting her through would be easy. He was the one with the panic alarm disguised as a shot of Halitosis in his pocket.

Spencer would never admit that his eyes fell straight down to the curves of her butt that seemed to be spotlighted by that damn dress.

Why did she have to look so irresistible? He supposed that was the point; he was the mysterious young gambler that was going to keep them in the game long enough to spot the UnSub, she was the attractive, woman of the night brought only to boost his ego and as his good luck charm. She certainly wasn’t the only one, she’d already seen a handful of other women, tall as models and so toned it looked as though they hit the gym every morning and didn’t leave until sundown, primped and primed for their player’s delight.

They were ten times better looking than she was, but to Spencer, she was the only woman in the room who he was envisioning ripping that dress right off.

She was making it very hard, no pun intended, for him to accept the idea of them as just friends.

The bouncer patted her down, Bugsy flashing him a cheeky smile just a little too forced for it to be one of her real ones, when the woman patted around her waist and hips for any hidden pockets or stashed bills.

“You wish this was you, huh, baby?” She teased him with a wicked look in her eyes, and he could only smirk back, hoping his blush didn’t give him away as quick as he reckoned it did.

He felt his knees weaken, worrying he might just fall to the ground there and then and be forced to crawl towards her if he had any hope of getting into the casino alive, but even that sent a new wave of lewd thoughts through his head, and he was grateful when the other bouncer called him forward to inspection.

The muscled guy waved a metal detector over his torso, moving down to his trouser legs where he wondered with cynical humour if the rod he now sported in his pants painfully would set off the alarm. It didn’t, and he begged his crotch to let up even the slightest if he had any hope of keeping his head on his shoulders during this game, but the detector sprung to life the minute it waved over the alarm in his pocket.

He produced the medical looking device, one they’d already planned and checked for faults, showing the fake prescription clearly to the guard, “Halitosis,”

The guy seemed to frown, took another look over the gangly guy who was with a woman way, way out of his league. A woman who waited for him after her own inspection, a very real diamond necklace that had been a sixteenth birthday present from Steph around her neck, courtesy of her dad’s bank account and ten years worth of emotional distance. Whether he took pity on Spencer because Bugsy looked like the kind of girl who could chew up a guy like him and spit him right back out, or he really didn’t care about his medical condition, he didn’t know, but he waved him through without another thought, and they both took a sigh of relief.

“You want a drink?” He asked nonchalantly as possible, wrapping his arm around her waist again, and he tried to not let his flustered demeanour show when he found slits cut into the side of the fabric, and he felt the softness of her hips under his fingertips.

“My treat, to get you started,” Bugsy replied, something unreadable in the teasing of her eyes, and she leaned up to his jaw to steal a quick kiss there like any other girl wanting to be paid the full sum of her night would have done.

At least that’s what she told herself, pretending as if her brazen action hadn’t caused her heart rate to spike.

She got him an iced tea, because she knew he wouldn’t want alcohol, and got herself a half shot Moscow Mule, sipping the lime rim appreciatively.

“See anything yet?” She asked under her breath, one hand trailing over the back of his neck, playing with the curls that sat there with vixen sly eyes that scanned the room.

He forced himself not to moan at the sensation, and he worried it was too obvious to the other patrons in the gambling room just how easily he melted beneath her fingertips. He felt like a dog drooling after a bone, like she was shaking a lead in his face and asking for walkies, and he was panting beneath her, tail wagging and dopey eyed.

Not the look of suave, mysterious stranger they were initially going for when they were coming up with identities for their covers. But at least it sold the part of a man desperate to win the jackpot if it meant he could spend the night with the siren woman that clung to him with a giggly sip of her pink straw.

“No one looking particularly suspicious,” He noted; everyone was almost too good at a poker face, though he supposed that it made sense seeing the value of the prize pool, “You are getting a lot of attention however,”

And she was. In fact, he was quick to take her hand in his own free one when he saw a group of men dressed to the nines, solid gold rings along their knuckles, diamond encrusted Rolexs staring back at him from their wrists, their faces dead yet starved when they drank in every inch of her skin, their eyes falling to where her dress rode up high, as she had whined about the entire way there.

She chuckled, and something about it sounded like her own, not the woman she’d had to become for the evening, and she kissed where his jaw clenched in annoyance, “Not from anyone that matters, boy wonder,”

And he felt his heart rest for a moment, because as long as she was with him he knew he could shift that big brain of his into gear. He loved nothing more than the click he felt when he was with her, like their brains and bodies just seemed to bluetooth to one another and they weren’t Spencer and Bugsy they were just them. A since cell amoeba.

He smiled at her, and she preened under his attention, so genuinely her that he felt the vignette that had clouded his vision shift into focus, and he knew he could find their UnSub if she was there with him.

He sat at the nearest table to them that was about to deal in, and within twenty minutes he was racking up a nice, fat pile of poker chips next to his iced tea.

Bugsy knew he was a smart man, knew he was good at magic tricks, but if he had turned to her then and there and pulled a rabbit out her ear hole she wouldn’t have questioned him otherwise. Watching him play was something else.

It was entirely sordid, the whole hour of his first game was spent trying to keep her focus on any patrons sat at their table and the rest that seemed to be twitching, whilst also trying not to look awed at just how amazing his brain was when he won damn near every time.

But she did manage to rip her eyes off him when she could, not enough to seem suspicious, just enough to scan the area for someone who could be their UnSub, her eyes quickly jumping to the guy on the table across from them with a large magic 8-ball tattoo across his bicep, unsurprisingly already looking her head to toe as he waited for his hand to be dealt out. He winked at her, a smarmy, cocky grin on his face, almost too confident in his ability to be someone to turn to suspicions and rituals in order to win.

A serious contender, but nothing that screamed their UnSub.

She looked around a little more, ignoring the handful of men who tried to grab her attention, who thought they were somewhat validated or interesting for having her look at them for a split second. They were just part of the wallpaper compared to Spencer anyway.

It wasn’t until she spotted a guy in a baseball cap a few paces away from them fiddling with yet another magic 8-ball, though this time a key chain, giving it a gentle touch every time he picked up his hand as if it really had the power to change the values once they’d been dealt.

From the quick glance she got of his face, he seemed to be running on an hour’s sleep tops. His eyes were rimmed redder than her lipstick, and his hair was damp with sweat and grease against his temple.

Unstable if there ever was a man for the word.

She quickly looked back to Spencer’s cards, her hands weaving over his shoulders to rub his muscles gently, the signal that she’d seen something important masked as an affectionate gesture.

The House called the end of the round, Spencer being awarded a heaped pile of tens, hundreds even a small few thousands thrown in there, to which he collected onto his tray they had handed him at the door.

Bugsy leaned down with a girlish squeal, giving him another big, cherry lipped kiss to his cheek, to which he felt himself blush under immediately. Quickly dodging to whisper into his ear, it looked to the other patrons as if she was simply promising him an even bigger reward later for his winnings in exchange, “Nine O’Clock at table two, guy in the green jacket has an eight ball keyring he ritually plays with before drawing,”

Spencer nodded, standing from the table with his winnings, using Bugsy’s as an excuse to angle himself to where she was talking about. He pulled her to him effortlessly, his long arms wrapping over her bare back, his neck craning over her shoulder to serveill the table she had indicated, and she quickly hugged him back with that fake giggle of hers, her body pressing to his desperately like the other ladies of the night he had seen with men three times their age.

He clocked who she was talking about almost immediately, running a hand down her spine and squeezing her waist gently to let her know he’d seen him.

They moved in tandem, just like they always had.

A hostess came over to them, all big smiles and a tight fitted black dress, a log book in her arms of where everyone was sitting in the next round to keep a fair game. Bugsy took a look at him, wiping away the smudged lipstick on his cheek with a loving swipe of her thumb, nodding at him for a small bout of reassurance.

“I’m going to go get another drink, honey,” She said loud enough for the hostess to hear, as she flashed him a flirty smile, “Don’t forget to wait for your lucky charm,”

He bristled, a smile twitching at his lips at that, “I wouldn’t dare,”

Because her message was clear. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m updating the team.

She swanned through the crowd as if she owned the place, but then again a packed scene had never been an issue for her. She felt through her concealed inseam of the tiny cardigan she draped over her shoulders, until she felt the long bullet shaped object stuffed into a tampon wrapper that Penelope had geniously planted there to look like a feminine product.

Her own alarm, the one meant to let the team know they had sights on the guy and to be ready. It was Spencer’s that would give them the signal to enter.

She was fiddling with the damn thing when she felt it, a sharp crack across her ass as she was walking towards the bar, heard the laughter in the second she froze up.

Turning on her heel with a tight expression, the anger burnt hot in her eyes when she saw the guy with the tattoo who had been trying to get her attention not even a half hour ago, watched him sidling up to her with a conceited smile.

“So, has that twiglet over there paid for you in advance or are you going home with the highest bidder?” He said, his head flicking to Spencer who now sat at table two, counting his chips out onto the table and paying himself in.

She smiled at the assailant widely, and it would have been pretty had it not been for the crazy look in her eye that twitched when he made a move to step towards her more.

“I’m spoken for in advance,” She said lightly, eyes trailing down his outfit like she was trying to commit it to memory, over his defining markers like the slit in his brow and his tattoos that looped over his hands, “But I’m sure I’ll be seeing you real soon, sweetheart,”

And she flashed him a toothy smile again, yet something was wolfish about it this time, like she was ready to lunge for him there and then.

The guy wasn’t their UnSub but he had made it to the very top of her hit list in a split second decision.

She waltzed away, securing herself another Moscow Mule she had no intention of drinking, and headed back to where Spencer was being allotted his hand of cards. Their round started, Bugsy keeping a close eye on the UnSub who sat directly to Spencer’s right, and she found a little solace in the fact he couldn't have brought in any weapons since they had all been patted down at the door.

It didn’t shake the feeling of edge the guy with the tattoo had put her into when she watched their guy flick a look over Spencer’s shoulder to look her head to toe, glancing back at Spence who was already glaring at him.

“Is she part of the winnings?” The other guy to his right chimed in, sliding a stack of hundred dollar chips into the centre, two of the players already bust as they watched the others play on for the house.

She saw her partner tense in his spine when he heard the man’s drawling voice, and she knew he was struggling to keep a lid on the facade they were putting on for the evening.

Snickering, she ran a gentle hand through his hair, down the nape of his neck with a sickeningly sweet simper, “Sorry, boys. Only person who’s taking me home tonight is the pretty boy,”

One of the guys who had already busted out scoffed, grumbling under his breath, “Lucky fucker,”

And Spencer knew it too. He felt almost rejuvenated just feeling her near, a damn near cocky smile on his face when he pushed his chips into the centre of the table, barely flicking a glance at his hand when he realised he had almost certainly secured a winning run.

Maybe she was his lucky charm, he thought cynically. Maybe he couldn’t blame the guy to his right for carrying a silly little trinket around with him in the name of luck if he was no better.

“I’m calling,” The guy on the far right declared, shuffling two piles of his chips into the middle with the total pooling.

“I’ll raise,” The UnSub cut in, grabbing some of his black thousand dollar tokens and clinking them one by one next to his opponents, “Eight thousand,”

What a surprise, eight thousand, Bug mused, squeezing onto Spencer’s shoulder again as he was quick to match the bidding and then some with his own checks.

“$8,000, that’s fifty six months’ wage for the average person in Bangladesh,” Spencer said, doubling the bet with a flick of those long fingers of his. It was heinous how much his brain managed to warm her insides, Bugsy thought, hoping she kept her poker face intact, “Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?”

The two remaining players, UnSub included, looked at him like he’d grown a second head, and Bugsy fought off the urge to laugh in their face, because for a minute he was so Spencer like all she wanted to do was quip something back equally as smart.

“Look, it’s eight thou’ to you, are you in or are you out?” The first man snapped, perhaps seethin with jealousy that the pretty woman wanted nothing to do with him or perhaps just pissed that the fresh faced teenager of a man was serving their asses up cold.

“I am in,” He moved some more chips towards them, his eyes falling back to the guy they suspected was their UnSub with a challenge in his eyes, “And I raise,”

“Three raise,” The dealer declared, and the first guy huffed in defeat.

“That’s too rich for my blood,” He growled, crossing his arms and flipping his dead cards over.

“Sir, are you in?” The dealer asked the UnSub, and for a minute his eyes snapped to Bugsy’s where she was keeping a calm look on her face despite the fact her insides were stumbling with nerves. But she never doubted Spencer’s maths, she would stake her life on it in fact.

“I’ll call,” The UnSub replied, flicking his cards over with another small token of a hundred, an okay run of cards but not an entire failure.

Spencer met it with a couple hundreds of his own, revealing his four and his eight that met the five, six, and seven he already put down. A winning flush. “Straight.”

Her smile was genuine, dazzling, when the pile of chips were pushed over to him, and she would have laughed with glee had the UnSub’s face not dropped into something devastated, borderline demented, when he saw his ritual had meant nothing. That he had lost despite killing his own friend and four more people as a sacrifice.

He was unravelling fast, and it was then Bugsy knew they had only moments to confirm he was their guy obsessed with his suspicions and that damn lucky number eight.

“I guess you won’t be needing this anymore, will you honey?” Bugsy reached over for the charm with a cheeky grin as the other patrons grumbled at their losses, only for the guy’s hand to come slamming down on top of hers with a brutal grip, hard enough she knew it was going to bruise by morning.

“Don’t,” He hissed at her, and it seemed to click with confirmation in Spencer and Bugsy’s mind there was no doubt this was their guy.

Spencer stood up to defend the woman, only for both of them to be grabbed by security second’s later.

“You’re going to let a man put his hands on a woman like that- would you relax I can walk,” Spencer snapped, watching the other security guard manhandle Bugsy just as roughly, pinning her arms behind her back, though she complied with a victorious grin, “Real tough there pal, grabbing on a woman half your size,”

“Relax honey, I got a taser in my pocket if they really want to behave like bad boys,” The bouncers looked at her in alarm, and it was the distraction Spencer needed to reach into his jacket and trigger the signal. She gave the three of them a shit eating grin, and Spencer thought he might just love her even more, “Don’t shit your pants, I’m kidding. I charge extra for the rough stuff,”

Spencer was still laughing when Hotch and Emily barged past them after the UnSub, who was by now leaving out the back door.

–

“Spencer, really, we can go back to the hotel and forget about it,” After revealing their cover with the bouncers, courtesy of one David Rossi and his famous face clearing their names, and the UnSub caught and well on the way to the nearest jail cell for questioning, Bugsy was more than tired and ready to strip out of the impossibly tight dress.

“I want to see this guy brought to justice, think of him as another UnSub,” Spencer said, his arms crossed over his chest as they sat on the bonnet of a squad car out the front of the building, the tournament slowly trickling to an end with its patrons leaving for the night.

She rolled her eyes, his jacket over her arms the only thing keeping her warm against the evening air. It would have been so much easier if they had been allowed back in, but FBI agents or not, the guards had clear rules against breaching the peace in such a high stakes game. A bad rep for having the feds show up on their busiest day of the year was not welcomed, just as much as they weren’t.

“Except he’s not murdered anyone,” She replied, eyes darting between the guests leaving with their earnings spilling out of their pockets, “He’s just some dumb asshole who can’t keep his hands to himself and- it’s him,”

The guy with the tattoos, Mike Folio as would later be printed on the police report, had barely a second to grieve his losses of the night before Spencer had him cuffed against the squad car, yelling and spitting about his rights as an American citizen.

It wasn’t until he saw the gorgeous woman donned in the candy red dress looking down at him with amusement that he felt the colour drain from his face.

“Hi sweetheart,” She smiled viciously, “I told you I’d see you again. Spence, read him the Mirandas,”

3. The one with the bank explosion

The tweed trousers irritated her thighs, the head band fluffed her hair away from her face in a way she kept trying to fix, and the brown pumps squeaked every time she walked, but her smile was dazzling nevertheless.

“Okay, the TV movie is at Hall H at nine, can we go to that?” Penelope asked, reading from the pamphlet as Bugsy and Spencer all but ran to keep up with her.

“Absolutely!” Spencer chimed in, “Do you think we can make it to the Captains of Enterprise at eleven?”

“Obvs,” Penny replied, fixing the bow tie necklace her and Bugsy had made not even the week before. She looked over at the younger woman, who had a matching K-9 pendant, because apparently FBI salaries did not take into account life sized robot dogs, “Thanks for coming with me,”

“Ofcourse, I’ve been knitting this scarf for weeks,” Spencer replied, his eyes falling down to where Bugsy donned a Sarah Jane Smith cosplay.

“Who are you going as?” She’d asked, the minute he’d asked her to go, because there were few things he did these days without her.

“The Fourth Doctor,” Spencer replied, because he had explained in length to her about the concept of regenerating and had even flicked on some of the newer series for her to watch with him, “Tom Baker’s Doctor, he’s a fan favourite,”

He showed her a picture of the time lord stood outside the TARDIS, a younger girl stood opposite him in a pink suit, large white peter pan collar hanging wide over her chest.

“Who’s that?” She asked, pointing the girl with the cute bangs and pleated skirts.

“That’s Sarah-Jane, or Sarah-Jane Smith. She’s one of the longest starring companions since she was the Third Doctor’s companion first and also was in the spin off show for her dog, K-9,” He explained, warming inside when Bugsy listened with raptured interest.

“So like, is she his girlfriend or-”

“No, no! The Doctor is often speculated to be asexual when it comes to relations with humans. Sarah Jane was one of his closest friends however, and in the Tenth Doctor’s third season he even comes back to rescue her from a wedding set up by one of his enemies,” He said, and her smile pulled out widely when an idea popped into her head.

“Well, can I be her? For your convention?” She asked, somewhat shyly, still a little unsure how the show worked in the fine details, “You know, since you saved me from my wedding?”

He paused, because she’d never really spoken about that day she’d jumped into his arms in the elevator, holding him to her like he was the only thing that made sense. Bugsy was like that alot; giving him everything he ever dreamed in the moment and then acting like it was never a big deal the next.

“S-sure! Yeah, that would be really nice.” He said, and she immediately started searching up what she should wear for it, “I didn’t really save you though, you know, you saved yourself,”

She snickered, nudging him with her shoulder, “You all saved me, I don’t know what I would have done if Em-” She stopped herself, swallowing thickly, and he saw the glow leave her eyes.

If Emily hadn’t been there.

Things were still awkward between them. There were no more catfights, thank goodness, though there also wasn’t any doting between the sisters anymore. It was like a clean break had slit between them. Emily had given up trying to warm to her, given up trying to get her to come around, and had instead taken the high road of waiting for Bugsy to make the first move.

But Bugsy was nothing if not stubborn. So Emily would be waiting a while longer.

“Hey, listen, next time I promise I’ll be the first one to object and then you can say I saved you,” Spencer joked, because he knew the subject of Emily stung her, because he knew she needed to stop thinking about it or she’d unravel into self hatred.

She chuckled aghast, “Next time? I was kind of hoping to keep the next one, Spence, whoever the unlucky guy is,”

He shook his head, a fake look of disapprovement, “Sorry, rules are rules. You wanted to be Sarah-Jane, I have to crash your wedding with the TARDIS I’m afraid,”

She laughed, resting her head on his shoulder as they flicked through the TV some more together.

“Well, I mean if those are the rules,” She simpered, snuggling under his chin, “Does this mean I get a sick robo-dog too?”

She looked every bit the part he would have ever expected her to look. Down to the maroon tie, and the white dress shirt, and the matching tweed blazer and pants that made her look embarrassingly hot.

He was about to tell her just how great she looked because she still seemed unsure, being a casual fan of the show not nearly as religious as some of the surrounding guests were, when Penelope cut them off in a near gutted voice.

“Oh my god,”

“Penelope?”

Bugsy and Spencer looked up to see Penelope’s ex beau, Kevin, dressed in a nearly identical outfit to her (though in Bug’s opinion he didn’t have the same pzazz as she did with the glitter and the sparkliness,) a red headed woman beside him donned in a police woman uniform.

“Kevin, hi, you came,” The blonde woman replied, her face mortified as she took in just how pretty the other woman was, “And you brought a friend, CSU technician Sharp, how are you?”

Hannah Sharp, from two floors below them in the BAU, grinned tightly, as if she could sense just how disastrous the situation had suddenly become, “I’m fine, uh, you?”

Bugsy gripped onto Spence’s arm tightly, hating the turn this was taking, every second of it.

“I am also fine,” Pen replied, though she looked as though she was ready to float outside of her body any minute now. “Okay, well, see ya,”

“You’re not gonna go in?” Kevin asked, his eyes crestfallen when he saw Penelope also grab onto the boy genius’ arm, and he cursed Spencer Reid for getting so many attractive women.

“Actually, we just went in and it’s super lame,” Bugsy interrupted, flashing a disjointed smile at the two of them, turning to usher her best friend away before he could call her out in her lie. “So we’re leaving,”

“Oh, okay,” Kevin replied, his date all but forgotten as the three of them made a sharp exit, a wince on the youngest Prentiss’ face when they got far enough that the girl could cringe in peace, “Well, great costumes,”

“Yeah, you too,” Penelope called back, her heels practically leaving tire marks with how fast she had sped away from her ex that was opening fresh wounds as they spoke. At work they were separated by a whole floor, so it wasn’t quite so scathing to see each other around or even hear of one another, but to be brought out in front of what she could only assume was his new woman was horrifying.

Bugsy was at her side immediately, grabbing onto her hand with a squeezing grip.

“Well, that was awkward,” Spencer noted aloud, and Bugsy lightly slapped his arm for him to shut up, her eyes wide with worry.

He looked at her in alarm, but her face told him everything he needed to know. Girl rules.

He hated girl rules. He never understood them.

“Oh my god, we used to come every year, I can’t believe he brought someone else,” Penelope sighed to the younger girl, who watched her with furrowed brows.

“Well you brought someone else,” Spencer pointed out, only to have his arm whipped at again in a chiding motion, and he watched Bugsy stroke Pen’s back with a bite in her tone.

“Girl rules, Spencer, girl rules,” He tutted at her, rolling her eyes as if they were a married couple and she was nagging him to wash the dishes.

Sometimes it felt easy like that with them. Like she really was just his best friend and not the only girl who held any sort of romantic connection to his heart.

“Yeah, someone I couldn’t possibly be attracted to,” Penelope stated, “Besides, he always thought the two of you were a thing anyway, oh god what if he thinks I’m your guys third-”

“Woah, woah, what?” Bugsy asked with wide eyes, “He thought me and Spencer were, like, dating?”

Penelope nodded, and Bugsy couldn’t even look at him without stumbling over her words.

“Well he knows we’re- like I mean we’re not even each other’s seconds so how could you be our third you know?” She said with a forced laugh, because she could feel her face going hot.

Spencer watched her tongue tie herself into oblivion, thinking of any and every excuse as to why she didn’t want dating associated to the two of them. Because how could she ever feel the same way? He was just him and she was, well, her. So incredibly, beautifully her.

It wasn’t until she bumped into an older gentleman waiting for his valet she even shut herself up.

“And I mean Kevin shouldn’t have just assumed- oh sorry,” She whirled around to apologise the man she presumed was a fan of the early seasons of the show, perhaps even around when they first aired, though the thought died in her throat when he turned around, “Oh, Rossi?”

David Rossi looked suave as ever in his age, a blazer thrown casually over his shoulder, a neat shirt and dress pants ensemble at his hips as he looked between the three of them, their costumes staring back at him entirely too colourful for a Saturday morning.

He sighed, hard.

“Why doesn’t this surprise me?” He asked with a tired voice, as Bugsy bounced back over to Spencer’s side with an incredulous look on her face.

“Are you here for the convention?” Spencer asked, excitement bubbling in his tone as Bug grabbed his forearm gently, already sensing Rossi hadn’t had nearly enough coffee to put up with them today.

“Who schedules a cigar aficionado event back to back with this?” Rossi asked, his eyes clamping on the pendant around her neck, “What is that, a robot dog?”

“K-9,” The three of them replied, and it was as if it tipped him over the edge, his hair growing whiter by the second.

“Kevin brought another woman, I’m plotting revenge. Do you want to help?” Penelope asked, her face still warm from running into the guy who was almost her fiance.

“Know where we can get any horse heads?” Bugsy asked, her expression lost in though as Penelope gasped, “What? I’m thinking go big or go home. Also, horse head in the bed means they can't have sex-”

“I’m taking that as my cue to leave,” Rossi cut in, just as his valet arrived, “Now you know I love all three of you, but this is Saturday, and it is my day off, so I’m going to love you from afar,”

He ruffled Bugsy’s hair fondly as he took his leave, throwing his blazer over the passenger seat and bidding them a wave goodbye.

They watched him go, wondering where it left them for a moment before Bugsy spoke up again, “So are we saying a definitive no to the horse head idea, because I’m sure I know a guy in college-”

“No, Bugsy,” Penelope hissed, her face scrunched in disgust, and Spencer swore she turned green, “Definitive no,”

–

They had been half way through breakfast when Spencer got an emergency call from Hotch for a team of serial killers robbing a bank downtown, hostages and guns on scene.

She had barely had time to whip the tweed blazer off her shoulders, keeping the shirt and pants on as Derek threw her a kevlar vest.

“It’s definitely them,” Will said in his soft Southern drawl, JJ embracing him tightly to her with a worried expression. It had been him and his partner first on the scene, though unfortunately things had not ended well for her when they had ran into the three UnSubs slipping out the back of the bank and had engaged in a shoot out; Will’s partner getting a bullet to the head almost immediately, and Will narrowly escaping unscathed, but not before he managed to gun down one of the UnSubs in the stomach.

So there they were, the UnSubs back inside the bank for safety since they were now surrounded by the city police, the FBI, the SWAT team and a handful of ambulances and medics on standby.

“I only saw the King and the Jack but I figured the Queen’s inside too,” He added, JJ peeling herself from his side as they headed towards the building.

“The media's calling them the face cards,” Hotch informed his team, all eight of them decked in their thickest vests and weapons loaded in full, “Seven bank robberies in seven months. They’ve killed one person at each robbery,”

“MO?” Rossi asked, now dressed out of his smart, Saturday wear and something more akin to his usual business attire.

“Single gun shot wound, each of the victims has bled out,” Hotch replied, and it wasn’t until they turned the corner towards the bank did Bugsy realise just how packed the street was with law enforcement.

Three or four choppers circled overhead with snipers and back up SWAT teams at the ready.

“Serial killers with a thirty day cooling off period, and we’re only just hearing about this now?” Emily asked in an incredulous tone, her voice raised to accommodate the shouting between other chiefs and their units.

“Headquarters characterised them as robbers first, killers second,” Hotch said, his hands on his hips as they all assessed the situation from afar. Naturally a few new anchors had pulled up to the scene as well and were setting up their equipment despite the officers trying to corral them away.

“Oh yeah? How did that turn out for them?” Bugsy grumbled behind her thick, dark sunglasses, biting her lip from saying worse.

“I disagreed with the original assessment, I was overruled,” Her chief shot back, because things had been just as cold between them since that day as they had with Emily.

JJ was slowly reaching out the olive branch in her direction, and if it wasn’t for Henry being so darn cute every time he begged ‘Buggy’ to come play with him, she reckoned JJ would have taken even longer to forgive as well.

“Why are we here now?” Rossi chimed in, eyes locked on Aaron’s frown, that seemed to harden every step they took closer to the bank.

“Because crisis negotiation is overseas.”

“What do we know about them?” JJ jumped in straight away with the problem solving, because even if they were out in the field and not in their pretty little round table room anymore, the UnSubs were still just pictures on a white board needing that red string to connect them all together.

“They’re organised, they're efficient,” Hotch fired off, mentally running through whether he had loaded the pistol he kept around his calf for emergencies, “Each strike lasts about two minutes,”

Derek’s face scrunched in confusion, “They gotta be scouting out the banks in advance, why haven’t we been able to ID them off of surveillance footage?”

“They hacked the security feed and turn off the cameras both during the initial canvas and during the robbery, until the masks come back on and then were allowed to watch” Hotch replied, and the eight of them slipped into the base of operation for the day; a wide trailer converted to house the high tech computers Penelope needed to keep an eye on the cameras with those magic skills of hers.

Bugsy’s eyes landed on the black and white feed of inside the bank, her heart lurching in her throat when she saw well over forty men, women and children lined on their knees execution style, facing the doors to the bank to act as a shield if the snipers did happen to get a shot through the windows.

The woman took the lead, a mask over her face with a doll-like expression on it, the other men soaked in blood as one fought to hold the injured one up for dear life.

“Why haven’t they cut the feed now that they’ve been cornered,” Derek said with a shake of his head, his lips pulled into a grimace, “Letting us see inside gives us a tactical advantage, they have to know that,”

“Unless they want the audience,” Bugsy suggested, watching the jack slowly growing weaker and weaker as they discussed tactics, “Although the only one who really strikes me as the attention seeker is her, he seems more prioritised with the other male,”

“The masks add to their narcissism,” Spencer input with a nod, “Their personas are the royalty of poker,”

“JJ, you, Bugsy, Reid and Prentiss, look at past robberies, that’s going to be our victimology,” Hotch ordered, and they did as ordered with little delay, heading to the office they had set up in the opposite trailer.

This was going to be a long day.

–

“I can help,” Bugsy offered herself before the team even had a chance to protest.

It hadn’t even been an hour into them pulling research from InterPol as to who their UnSubs were before they had made their next dramatic move; they had shot a hostage.

Which meant they needed medics in there fast, fast enough to save the hostage and the jack if it kept the king from unravelling into a massacre.

“What do you mean you can help?” Emily said with a scathing tone, “Bug, you can’t just throw yourself in harm’s way if you have no clue what you’re-”

“I did three years of a medicine degree alongside my biochemistry before I got bored of doing both and gave up on it,” Bugsy snapped at her sister, brows contorting into a harsher frown than she’d had in months. She preferred it when they weren’t speaking at all.

“Because you were bored?” Derek asked, his face incredulous at the gall of the twenty year old they’d plucked from college and sent into the midst of the Russian Mob five years ago, “Did you not have anything better to do like partying or making out with guys- a whole medical degree on the side is your idea of downtime?”

She shrugged, looking back at Emily with a glare who seemed to bristle at the information.

“Can I speak to you outside please?” Emily said in the coolest tone she could muster, though even that sounded like a bite.

Something shifted in the air of the tiny, makeshift office and the other inhabitants tensed up at the sight of the Prentiss women gritting their teeth almost identically, staring daggers at one another for a moment before they stood from their seats and waltzed out of the side of the trailer to where there wasn’t the bustle of squad cars or media to be seen.

JJ looked to Morgan, who looked to Spencer, who seemed to have paled for a moment, and the three of them were out of their own seats to linger at the doorway in case things really did get ugly between the sisters.

“Do you honestly think that throwing yourself into the line of danger today is a good idea or are you trying to hurt me to get back at me?” Emily seethed the minute they had stepped foot on the ground, and the scoff that left her little sister’s throat was something nasty.

“Oh, please, don’t make yourself sound so important.” Bugsy snapped, whirling around on her heel to glare at her sister, “I’m not doing any of this to get back at you, I’m trying to save those hostages in there-”

“So I just happened to have never heard about this medical side quest you set yourself on until now because, what, it just never came up?” Emily laughed, laughed, in her sister’s face, and Bugsy saw red even more, “I thought you were a better liar than that,”

“Maybe if you’d bothered to even speak to me before you needed something from me that day with the Russians then you would have known anything about me that wasn’t being your dumb little sister you can just walk all over like you’re my mom or something,” Bugsy’s voice was getting louder, and Emily’s smirk wiped right off at the sound of that, because she knew she could have been ten times a better sister had she not wanted to get as far away from her mother as fast as possible. “Same with Hotch, he never wanted much to do with me until his wife died and then who did he come to needing help grieving, none a single one of you, and who gets bitten in the ass and punished when I find out I spent seven months grieving like some idiot to that uptight prick who lied to me-”

“Do not speak about him like that,” Emily was shouting now too because Bugsy was truly holding nothing back on her.

“Why? Are you going to pick him over me, Em?” The younger woman snarked, her eyes hateful and narrowed, “Wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest given your track record-”

Emily shoved her, like, truly shoved her back and it robbed the words out of the girl’s throat. Yet it made JJ gasp where they were watching from the crack in the doorway, wanting to break them apart but knowing they needed to fix it for themselves.

The three of them hissed when Bugsy’s hand swiped against Emily’s cheek in a territory neither of them had ever wandered into. Emily was always too old to argue with her sister, too big to fight the way most siblings did with slaps and hair pulls and scratches, but Bugsy was a grown woman now; they both were.

Emily swatted the same back to her own cheekbone, after a second of shock washing over her face, and it was like they were two cats fighting in a back alleyway over a scrap of chicken.

Bugsy shoved at her around the tits, because she knew it would ache, Emily pulled at her braid with a yank that made Bugsy’s eyes water, the two of them banging against the wall of the trailer, their heads clunking together.

“Fucking punishing me after months like some insolent child-”

“I would never have left you thinking you were to blame for my death- I would never fucking do this to you-”

This was childish, entirely childish, playground offences and girlish curses in between. The worst part was they knew they could do much worse, they knew they could truly hurt one another if they wanted to. They were both trained to kill, and yet Emily had Bugsy grabbed in a headlock like they were two infants fighting over a sandpit.

Because they didn’t want to properly hurt one another in any way that would last. Never.

“Get the fuck off me or I’m punching you in the crotch,” Bugsy barked, trying to wriggle her way out of her sister’s freakishly strong arms with a frown, “EMILY- I SAID-”

“I was trying to protect you- just get your head out of your ass for two seconds and listen to me- I was trying to protect all of you-” But by the time Emily had somewhat gotten her to stop squirming, the girl had grabbed her by the calf where she had been forced to bend at a forty five degree angle, holding her one leg up off the floor while she sweeped at the second one to knock her off balance.

She had been known to shoot an assailant in the foot from twenty feet away to stop them from getting away, and yet she was resorting to simply pushing her sister over as a way to get one up on her.

She felt like she was ready to finger paint and take a nap time next; like they were about to be sat in the headmaster’s office and have their wrists slapped with a ruler for not keeping their hands to themselves.

But it worked, and in seconds the Prentiss girls were on the floor, puffing out of breath, Bugsy’s lip bleeding where Emily’s ring had caught it on the corner, Emily’s cheek red and raised from where her sister had a surprisingly strong right hook. They took a minute to breath, Bugsy glaring at the awfully clear blue sky, much too happy and cheery for the travesty that had been her entire day. And it was only then did she hear the other three members of their team exit the trailer, JJ going to help Emily up while Morgan's face appeared in the middle of the powdered clouds, something sad and sympathetic in his eyes and it was then that he held out his hand to get her up.

She didn’t want to, had every intention of laying there and staring at the broad daylight until she managed to float far away from there and from where her chest hurt with betrayal and her lip bled with lies.

He yanked her off the floor, offered her a cold can of coke for where she felt her lip swelling already, and she resigned to sit on the stairs to the trailer with her head in her hands until her temple stopped pounding or at least until she felt herself calm down in the slightest.

Emily shuffled to sit down next to her, her breathing still uneven but she could tell because she felt a tentative hand on her thigh rubbing gently, in the motherly way Emily had always watched her.

Because Bugsy had always been her baby, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

“Bugsy?” The younger woman huffed in indignance, pouting as she stared at her lap, because she felt the tears welling up already, “I’m so sorry I left you, you know I never, ever wanted to, you know that right?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice cracked as she finally looked over at her sister’s solemn face, “You told JJ and Hotch but you couldn’t even tell me? Did you just not want to come back for me?”

Emily’s brows pulled up into a sorrowful frown, and she felt her eyes start to burn too.

“No, that was never a part of it, I swear, there wasn’t a day when I didn’t want to come home to you,” She replied, taking a deep breath in through her nose as not to start bawling her eyes out there and then, “I had to tell Hotch and JJ as a matter of precaution, not because I wanted to tell them and not you. Bug, I missed you every day, I missed Niko and Sergio and those dumb documentaries you made us watch,”

Bugsy smiled despite herself, wiping a finger under her nose to stop the tears that had already started rolling there, “Well, I don’t know about Niko but Sergio missed you a whole lot,” She sniffled, rolling the Coke over to a cooler side to sooth her lip some more, “But I think he feels like you kind of abandoned him, and like you maybe don’t love him as much because he can be kind of annoying and, like, he’s real torn up about me telling him you died only to find your you’re not, like you can’t just do that to Sergio, Em, he doesn’t deserve that,”

Bugsy’s lip was quivering by the time she’d finished, but Emily chuckled wetly, wrapping an arm over her shoulder and pressing their pounding heads together.

“Are we maybe not talking about Sergio anymore, Bug? Are we talking about you-”

“No, we’re definitely talking about Sergio,” She cut in, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve, looking back up where Emily’s face was glistening with tears though it seemed like she had somewhat calmed under her sister’s gaze that wasn’t so full of vitriol hatred anymore.

Emily nodded, a humoured smile on her lips, “Right, okay, my bad. Definitely Sergio,” She held up her hand, stroking down Bug’s cheek for her where her tears had started pooling, “Well, I want Sergio to know that even if he is annoying sometimes, that there’s nothing that could ever take me away from him again, cause even though I’m not his mom, he’s still always going to be my kid, you know?”

Bugsy’s face crumpled in pain for a minute, sniffling and meeting Emily’s eyes, dark brown hues watching her sadly, imploring her to know how much her heart called out for her.

“Really? You promise?” Bugsy whined, and Emily nodded with a sad smile, stroking the back of her braid that looked a little ratted and wispy from where it had been yanked at. She took a shaky breath, looking down to her shoes where they scraped against the steps, “Well, I’m sure he’ll love to hear that, I’ll tell him when we’re home-”

Emily laughed, kissing her sister’s forehead, and pulling her into a side hug.

“Alright, tough guys. Let’s get back to working on the profile, Sergio can wait for a minute,” Morgan said, though his face fought off the smile that crept on his lips seeing two of his favourite girls finally at peace with one another.

Bugsy looked five years younger within seconds, and they clicked back into place, hopping up off the steps to get right to work, cursing herself for wasting so much time on silly things like hating her sister, because forgiving her felt cathartic in a way she didn’t understand she needed.

Maybe they had a chance after all.

–

Bugsy swore she would never have an optimistic thought a day in her life again.

Because just as they had thought perhaps things could look up; just as they had sent in a different agent medically trained enough to save the jack, their UnSub, that they’d identified as Oliver, had bled out before he could have done anything to save him. Without a second thought, the king, Chris, had shot the agent, and demanded he wanted Will next as retribution for his brother’s death.

They had of course turned down the offer in a heartbeat but the moment everyone turned their backs, Will, ten times the cop Bugsy could ever hope to be, had walked into the bank with his arms raised in surrender despite JJ screaming for him to stop from where Morgan and Hotch held her back from following him in.

Bugsy and Penelope watched from the CCTV in blood curdling horror when Chris put two bullets in him before he could even declare he was unarmed.

“Did you see where he was shot?” JJ asked, her tone empty, her eyes bloodshot where she had broken down into a fit of wails as soon as the gunshots had sounded through the street.

Bugsy opened her mouth to speak, losing all hope as soon as the bluebell gaze fell to her for an explanation.

“Is he alive or dead, Bug?” JJ snipped, but she knew she didn’t mean it, knew she was just worried out her mind and grasping at straws.

“I don’t know, I’m sorry,” Bugsy replied, Emily’s hand at the small of her back in a comforting gesture because she sounded scared. She wished Spencer was with her, he always knew how to make people feel better, but he and Kevin had gone back to their office uptown to use Penelope’s personal lair for better coverage on the BAU’s resources.

“He was wearing a vest,” Emily jumped in, because Bug was tense and upset enough as it was, “He might be okay,”

“Might be?” JJ said humourlessly, her face hollow with sadness, “Alright we need to get inside,”

“JJ, it’s too risky,” Morgan tried as the woman stood up, a new found determination, because she refused to accept her partner, the father of her child, was dead until she saw him in a body bag for herself, “We don’t have eyes in there anymore,”

Jennifer’s eyes welled up again, and she turned to their unit chief; he was the only one who could understand just how desperate she felt right now if there was even the smallest chance he could still be alive. “Aaron.”

Hotch took a breath, nodding to her with complete empathy, “Let’s go in,”

Bugsy leapt for the medical kit they’d kept in the cupboard, because if she could stop the bleeding as soon as possible he might have a chance. She was taken back to when she had gotten to Emily that night with Doyle, when she had nothing but the clothes on her back and a loaded gun to treat her sister with, when she had felt completely helpless.

She refused to feel like that again, not now she’d been lucky enough to get Emily back. She refused to let JJ and tiny Henry go through what she did.

Will wouldn’t die if she had anything to do with it.

“Seeing what’s going on outside doesn’t help us inside,” Spencer said, standing behind where Kevin sat in Pen’s office, his hazel eyes falling to the surveillance footage of the bank live streaming from one of the choppers, where the familiar woman he worried for more than he could ever tell her moved behind a SWAT unit towards the front doors, a large med kit strapped to her back, a pistol at her side.

He looked down at the blueprints of the bank because if he watched her get even ten feet away the bank he thought he might just throw up, even if there were four armed men shielding her.

“Kevin, can you possibly pull up each of the surveillance feeds prior to Will being shot?” He asked, quickly diverting his attention away from where they were at an impasse waiting for something to happen, Emily’s SWAT team moving slowly towards hers.

“Sure, what are we looking for?” The other man asked, his fingers sprawling over Penelope’s keyboard as he did as requested, playing the older footage on the opposite screen, though even he was getting cold feet watching their team getting ready to breach the perimeter.

“The female UnSub disappeared once before, if she wasn’t looking for an escape, what was she doing?”

Spencer paused, because he couldn’t help when his eyes flicked back to the footage of Bugsy shuffling closer to the entrance behind one SWAT agent, and the doors burst open, the entire street pausing for a second to see what the movement was.

The hostages. The civillians caught in the crossfire at the bank slowly trickled out of the doorway, their arms raised in peace, some crying in relief though there was no sign of Will anywhere.

This was bad. Though he felt utmost care that the hostages had been released safely, he knew that the UnSubs keeping Will meant one of two things. One, that Will was already dead and useless to them, or two, keeping him bleeding out as a bargaining chip was their final play. Meaning they had no intention of releasing him, otherwise they would be left with nothing.

If he wasn’t already dead, he would be any minute now.

Spencer’s chest crashed in devastation for his friend and his godson, though it soon took a turn of terror when it seemed the same thought ran through Bugsy’s mind and she began stepping forward towards where the hostages were shuffling out in floods of tears.

He saw Morgan and Emily yelling at her to stop, two of the SWAT team trying to follow her because they had no idea what had come over the twenty something year old rookie with a death wish. Spencer tried to ignore the way his chest clawed in horror, his eyes snapping back onto the surveillance of the female UnSub disappearing into the back rooms of the bank, completely ignoring the vault and the very clearly marked exit, meaning she had no intention of using either.

So what was she doing?”

Spencer felt his head rattling with a horrid thought, hoping his intuition was wrong when he held the blueprints up to the screen, his skin turning to gooseflesh when he realised just exactly where she had been dipping out to with that backpack of hers.

“Gas mains,” His voice was numb with fear, his body diving for their comm link to Garcia, where she sat in the trailer with Strauss and Rossi, watching the surveillance just as he was, “Garcia, get them out of there now,”

But no sooner had he said anything, Bugsy’s figure disappeared into the building, the SWAT team confirming that the entrance was clear, JJ and Morgan moving after her with their own agents protecting them.

But she was already inside, his head screamed at him. Even when he heard David’s frantic voice through the radio they had linked to their kevlars, “ABORT, ABORT!”

Even when he heard Hotch swear hastily, calling to his team to hold back, trying to yell loud enough JJ and her team could hear his orders to take cover.

Spencer couldn’t truly take any of it in as he watched the large glass windows wobble for a second, a shock wave of what he knew was about to come.

The lines went dead, and he thought for a second his heart stopped. Because he hadn’t figured it out fast enough, hadn’t warned them before she had chance to throw herself head first into danger the way he should have known she would.

Because Spencer watched the footage with a terror he had never known, not even in his eight years on the team, not even in his own situations as a hostage, not even when he was at his lowest and he thought the dilaudid was going to finish him off, alone and high in his apartment’s little bathroom, a burnt out drug addict who had so much going for him.

Spencer had never felt the sheer, spine-chilling dread that he did when he watched, useless and heart broken, as the bank went up in a colossal explosion, a plume of flames bursting out of every window, shattering glass and cracking the brickwork, hard enough he watched part of the building start to crumble inwards.

And Bugsy went down with it.

Taglist:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions. @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3 @rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist t @theoraekenslover @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew grey gubler x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #Emily Prentiss x Sister!reader

919 notes · View notes

breakingjen · 2 years

Text

#at therapy today she told me 1. we don’t know if she’ll still be my therapist after the summer #2. their guidelines for who they consider in need of therapy with them are gonna get stricter #and it /could/ be possible that i might not be within those guidelines - although that’s not actually it at this precise moment in time #but she said she wanted to tell me these things so IF it happens i’m already prepared for it #also she did mention that i have my family and online friends - which i do but also not sure if they can replace therapy #doesn’t mean i’m not gonna worry tho #bc /if/ the clinic thinks is me as someone with not as much need for therapy as other patients - idk what i’m gonna do #she’ll know more next session so i’ll have to try not to think too much about it until then

0 notes

brucewaynehater101 · 1 month

Note

I had an AU, that at this point is more of a headcanon for me, that I thought you might enjoy because it's a nice mix of angst, Tim not thinking things are as bad as they very clearly are, and some fluff.

So it's pretty widely accepted that the Bats don't really know anything about Tim's days with Young Justice right? Like they might know one or two small facts, but they don't know that the gang blew up Mount Rushmore, any of the times the DEO tried to arrest them and drag them into Government Labs for experimentation, or that time they went to a Disco Themed Hell with Supergirl. They sure as hell don't know about any of the things that happened with Secret and Harm. Even though Tim would canonically be gone for days at a time (some of his adventures, mainly the one when they were gone for THE ENTIRE WINTER OLYMPICS) with no one noticing. One time they were in space and had enough time to not only go to Darksied's planet but spent WEEKS there and when they got back still not even Batman knows that Tim was even gone.

Anyways, all this to say. If Tim vanished for a month or two and just said he was spending time with Young Justice again while sending in case files and stuff to keep Bruce busy, I don't think anyone would notice. Nor would they notice if he suddenly switched from being Right Handed to being Left Handed and then after months of practice he goes back to being right handed. It's such a small change after all.

So here's the headcanon. On a Young Justice mission, something goes horribly wrong and Tim full on looses his hand. It's simply gone. The reason no one knows or notices is that he got a robotic replacement, a very realistic looking one like Roy Harper has, that he spent a few months learning how to work with and then went to physical therapy for it for years. It's just part of his life now and he thinks everyone knows, after all. How could they miss it? Jason has seen his palm open with a screw driver deep in his wires. Jason thought he was still tripping from fighting Scarecrow a few hours before. Not a single person outside of Cassie, Tim, Kon, Bart, Greta, Anita, Slobo, and Cissie knows that Tim is missing his right arm just below his elbow for almost 5 years.

That is until Tim has been up for 4 days straight and Dick says something about needing a hand with something and in a moment of sleep deprived brilliance, Tim takes off his hand, and throws it at Dick.

Yes! I love this AU/hc. There is a fic that kind of has this situation: "I told you about that... Didn't I?" by weewoow_070603. Jason is the one to find out, though.

I like the details you added in this AU that the fic (as far as I remember) didn't add: Tim being gone is a regular thing, the fear toxin with Jason, the months of physical therapy, etc.

I do think something as vital as this would happen to Tim, and he'd just forget to tell his family. At first, he tries to hide it. He doesn't want to deal with their fretting, the lectures, the scolding, and them getting involved. He has it handled, after all. After a while, he forgets that he should hide it and why he did in the first place. Then someone finds out, and he's confused why they don't know such a common place thing.

I'm also super glad you tied in all those YJ examples that you did. People tend to focus on the space baseball or Santa Clause (which I love those events too), so it was refreshing to see other events as examples.

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #dc au #young justice #young just us #thank you for the ask!!!!

324 notes · View notes

2chopsticks2eyes · 19 days

Text

Numb

(Part Two)

This is part two of a multiple part series, please be sure to start from part one!

(Part One) | (Part Two)

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Fem Reader

Themes: Angst, (Smut), (Fluff)

Word Count (all parts): ~21.8k | AO3

Summary: You were penniless and working tirelessly at a seedy club when you were assaulted. As soon as you resigned yourself to your fate, Lee Minho saved you, albeit grudgingly. You received treatment and you didn’t have to pay them a dime under one condition: You must be confined to his home for the remainder of your recovery.

Author’s Note:

***IMPORTANT!!!*** THIS STORY IS FILLED WITH TRIGGER WARNINGS. THIS SECOND PART DOES NOT CONTAIN THOSE TRIGGERS, BUT IT IS IMPLIED AND REFERENCED. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ TAGS AND WARNINGS AT BEGINNING OF PART ONE BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The overall plot line was based off a recommendation from @linoots from Tumblr (I received permission from them to write this type of content)

(I’ve missed you all dearly. So sorry it’s taken so long 🥺)

__________________________________________

You silently watched as the doctor removed the IV that had been pumping fluids into your body for the past 48 hours and you rubbed the uncomfortable bandage he replaced it with.

You refused to make eye contact with him. In fact, you did not look or talk to anybody since you woke up in that same home-hospital room you had grown accustomed to. Not Chris, not Felix, and definitely not Minho.

You were a shell of your former self and you didn’t know if you were upset or relieved that you were revived. You didn’t know what to make of it. But now, there was one emotion you knew that burned brighter than your numbness.

Anger.

You couldn’t quite believe Felix’s words when he said that Minho was the one who came to your rescue… again…

But that was preposterous. The bastard probably told the younger man to say that to make himself look better… Whatever, fuck it all.

You allowed yourself to be led back to your room to get some rest. However, when Felix left and Minho walked in, you fortified your walls even further. You felt your face turn sour with each passing moment without even looking at the man and you rolled over in bed so your back was facing him.

There was a long pause of silence that seemed to drag on for hours.

You finally heard a long sigh and then the sound of him plopping down into the chair by your bed. “You know…” He started, and you squeezed your eyes shut. “There’s a reason I bothered to do all of this...”

You tried your hardest to ignore him, but you couldn’t control the fact that his words piqued your interest, your ears already tuned-in to his velvety voice.

“Not just this time, but… the reason I brought you here in the first place.” After a moment of silence, he realized you weren’t going to respond, so he huffed in frustration. “Forget it.”

You suddenly heard the door open and you peered over your shoulder. Without turning to face you, he blankly said, “You are now required to have 24/7 supervision, congratulations.”

And with that, the man walked out while Felix walked in, a meek smile on his face and hands full with baked goods.

“In the mood for cookies?” You sighed and just returned to your side as you balled up in a mess of frustration and confusion under the covers, mind still tingling with the thought of what Minho was going to say.

__________________________________________

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter, Felix. I’m a grown woman.”

Felix just huffed, obviously sick and tired of your complaints. “You know why it’s this way, sweetie. Don’t blame me for doing my job.”

The topic was a constant now. He was obviously there for your physical therapy, but he was also everywhere else. You loved the man, you did, but there is only so much time you could stand without a little alone time!

You wanted to watch TV? He was there. You wanted to nap? He was there. You couldn’t even go to the bathroom without having to leave the door open so he ‘has access to you at all times’. Thank god he stayed outside while you did your business…

After a week of this bullshit, you decided to do something about it…

Throughout your exploration of the house, you found some rooms with names on them. Evidently the ones that Minho once said were strictly prohibited. A couple of the rooms had names you were completely unfamiliar with, but others, you remembered well. Chan, Felix, Jisung, Seungmin, Jeongin, and finally some large double-doors with the initials L.M.

Lee Minho.

The man had supposedly been ‘out on business’ the entire week, but you knew for sure he had come back today with all of the ruckus of the house staff.

So, when you were positive that Felix had finally passed out on the sofa in your room for the night, you, as quietly as humanly possible, snuck out of the room and tip-toed down the hallway and downstairs to the doors you knew by heart now.

The room was surprisingly extremely secluded and you thanked the heavens because you knew for sure you wouldn’t be able to keep cool once he was in sight. You were fully prepared to bang your fist all the way through Minho’s door to meet the man himself if that’s what it took, but as you raised your fist to knock, the door suddenly opened.

Well… shit…

You really didn’t want to admit it, you really didn’t, but… the sight before you was absolutely, without a doubt, mouth watering. He looked just as surprised as you, but you found yourself focused on something other than his face for once…

The man was completely shirtless, pajama pants riding low on his hips and revealing the prominent V of his abdomen. Speaking of abdomen, the dude was of course ripped. Well, maybe not Dr. Chris (Or Christopher, or Chan, or what the fuck ever you want to call him) kind of ripped, but enough to make your eyes bulge out and glue themselves to every inch of impeccably toned abs and pecs.

And another thing that stood out in particular was the sleeve of tattoos twisting and swirling around the upper half of his right arm. You had only seen him in button-ups thus far and, even if he rolled up his sleeves, you somehow hadn’t ever noticed it. You were usually hyper-focused on his face, but at that moment, all you could see was the vast amount of skin on display.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“What are you doing here?” His stern words snapped you back to reality and you had to rapidly blink to regain a semblance of consciousness.

What am I doing? You shivered and grimaced at yourself for your intrusive thoughts before meeting his eyes.

“Uh-uhh I–” You halted your words when you noticed he was clutching something on his side. Curiosity got the better of you and you peered around his towering frame to see a soiled and basically useless bandage dripping with blood. “Holy shit! Are you alright?!” You said stepping towards him instinctively, catching yourself once he tensed and stepped back, correcting his posture as if to defend himself.

Psh, what could you possibly do to him? You couldn’t even defend yourself…

He glanced at the cloth he was currently pressing to his side and made a disgruntled noise. “I’m fine.” He said with a curt and slightly annoyed huff. “Why don’t you have anyone watching you right now?” He grumbled, obviously frustrated as he looked around behind you in search of your babysitter.

You furrowed your brows, still peeved but also worried about the still-bleeding wound on his side. “I had to sneak away because I don’t necessarily appreciate being babysat like a fucking child! Now you need to refresh that bandage before it gets infected!” You borderline shouted.

You could almost feel the daggers he shot at you with his eyes pierce through your flesh. “I said I’m fine! Now go back to be– Hey!”

You cut his sentence off short when you saw a first aid kit that looked like it had been through war and back on a small table behind him before you marched your way in, not giving two flying fucks that you were invading his room. “Get your ass in here, we need to clean you up first.” You demanded, collecting the kit and marching into what looked like the ensuite, completely ignoring his protests.

Jesus, is this much luxury even necessary? You thought as you passed through his behemoth of a room. Gray, white, and covered in smooth marble and chandeliers, it housed all of the amenities to be considered its own wing of the house. The gray material of the sofa and bed looked so soft and luxurious you were tempted to walk over and run your fingers along them. But that would have to wait.

He slammed his bedroom door shut with a huff and turned around. “You can’t just–!” You ignored him as you strolled into the bathroom (Still unnecessarily gorgeous).

“Just get your ass in here and sit!” You shouted from the bathroom. When you saw him stop in the doorway and glare at you, you just proceeded to open the first-aid kit and then pointed at the black and white marble countertop next to the sink. “Sit.”

He rolled his eyes before squeezing them shut and breathing out a slow sigh. “You… You’re a pain in my ass.” He groaned before dragging his feet over to you and hopping up to sit on the counter like you asked. If you hadn’t been right in front of him, you would have almost missed the slight hiss of pain he breathed through clenched teeth.

Why you had felt a pang of sympathy for the man, you had no clue.

He watched you apprehensively as you washed your hands and moved to face him. A brief moment of awkward silence had permeated the air before you tentatively raised your hands to remove the soiled bandage.

Minho visibly stiffened, but he made no move to stop you as your shaky fingers slowly peeled back the gauze.

Holy shit. That was 100% unmistakably a bullet wound.

Your mind was automatically transported back to that first night where you witnessed this guy casually gun down those men, effectively splattering five different brains on the fresh snow without even batting an eyelash. Who the fuck is Lee Minho? And what all was he capable of?

“If you’re going to just stand there and stare, then kindly leave me the fuck alone.” His gruff voice made you jump slightly as you were pulled from your thoughts.

You cleared your throat as you proceeded to throw away the red-stained dressing. You avoided his eyes as you grabbed the saline solution and a towel, still feeling his eyes bore into you with every movement.

However, you froze as you held the saline up to the mangled skin. “U-um… Did you take out—?”

“Yes, I already removed the bullet. Get on with it.”

Your stomach churned at his affirmation of the cause of injury, but you were getting sick and tired of his assholery as you glared up at his blackened eyes. “You know, a little gratitude goes a long way, shithead.”

He seemed stunned for a moment, looking at you as if you had gone crazy before returning to his deadly glower. “Look here, Tinkerbell—“ You bristled at that stupid-ass name again… “YOU’RE the one that barged in here. YOU’RE the one who has been a pain in my ass ever since you got here. So, no, I won’t give ‘gratitude’ where it’s not deserved. Plus, you’re the one to talk…” He murmured the last bit, but you still clearly heard him.

“Then why bother saving me in the first place?!” You basically screamed at him.

Silence and a shocked disposition was all you got in return.

“I had nothing to live for anyway, so why bother?! You could have just as easily ignored what was happening and went on your merry fucking way. Could have left me behind that dumpster to freeze and bleed to death so you wouldn’t have to deal with this ‘pain in the ass’. Could have also left me alone to OD and suffocate on my own vomit the other day. So what gives?” You finished with a seething remark while gesturing to yourself.

His face was stark blank. “You want to know why I saved you?” He said through gritted teeth. You just responded with a curt nod. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration before his expression morphed into something more solemn. It seemed like he was having an internal battle before he began to speak. He finally sighed and leaned his head back against the wall mirror with closed eyes. “I once… I had a cousin, one that was very close to me. I would always be overbearing and protective and she would always tell me to stop babying her.”

He chuckled fondly as he reminisced and you found yourself latching onto his every word. You chalked it up to the fact that you were finally learning something about this enigmatic man and this whole fucked up situation.

“Anyway, as we got older and I got busier, I began giving her more space. She was becoming a woman and I accepted the fact that she could begin to take care of herself.” He paused, but considering the faintest waver in his voice and his dry swallow, it didn’t sound like it was because he was waiting for a response… “I thought she was safe… but there were… others… vile pigs that knew how close she was to me…”

Another beat of silence and you watched his face slowly morph from sorrow to unbridled rage.

“I found her in almost the exact way I found you…” His words felt like a punch to the gut and painful images flooded your mind as you swallowed the bile that rose to your chest. “But, in her case, the scum that had… done that to her had already fled and I… I couldn’t save—” He squeezed his eyes tighter and his jaw clenched hard around the emotions before they could spill out.

You both knew he didn’t need to finish that sentence.

You felt the numbness that had taken over your soul begin to crack once again at the feeling of sympathy towards his cousin, and that shit scared you like none other.

“So, yeah. You might be a raging bitch and I might be a pretentious motherfucker. But even so, I couldn’t just leave you… I just couldn’t…” You felt something churn in your gut and you furrowed your brows in frustration as to what it was. You watched him take a deep breath and sit up a bit straighter. “So, with that being said, I can’t just allow you to throw away everything you’ve worked for so far.”

As if indicating that he had enough of the back-and-forth, he attempted to grab the saline bottle from your hand, only to be met with adamant resistance. You gently pushed his hand away (thankfully without any struggle) and brought the saline and towel up to his ever-bleeding wound that was dripping down to the puddle it created, causing a concerning amount of deep crimson to flood the marble countertop.

You silently flushed the deep cavern with the solution until you deemed it was properly cleaned before moving on to the peroxide. “This might sting a bit…” You warned as you watched his jaw clench. He closed his eyes as you disinfected it and you wondered how he could keep so cool after having a bullet plunged into his side.

Once he was properly cleaned and covered in antibiotic ointment, you picked up the gauze and searched for some tape. Your eyes widened as he wordlessly moved to hand you a long compression wrap.

You emitted a noise that sounded somewhat like a sputtering engine and your face flushed as you saw his suppressed smirk. To wrap that thing around him, you would have to run your hands all over his muscled torso… fuck.

“Something the matter?” He lilted in that nonchalant, annoying timbre. Teasing. “If you don–”

“It’s fine!” You cut him off, maybe a bit too loudly as you refused to make eye contact. “It’s just… just… don’t you have any dressing tape?” You said as you coincidentally eyed his well-defined pecs and abs.

He shrugged. “Nope. Not with me anyway. I just have this—“ He said while waving the fabric in front of your face again with a challenging brow lifted.

You nervously chuckled and squeaked out, “O-okay… Stand up…” You instantly felt goosebumps rise all over your flesh as he hopped off the counter, keeping the gauze pressed to his wound, and stepped a bit too close for a man you barely even knew. Deep breaths, you can do this…

“Hey…” You slowly raised your eyes to meet his own at the sound of the softer change in his tone. He took the tiniest step back to make it easier for him to look you in the eyes. “If you're uncomfortable… I mean… I’m not…” You don’t think you had ever seen him struggle so much with his words. He sighed and closed his eyes before sadly looking at you again. “You have nothing to be afraid of with me… I wouldn’t even think of…” He huffed and shook his head in disgust as he seemed to be thinking of the exact same thing that had plagued you day and night since arriving here.

Before he could even drive his point home, you gently laid your hand on his shoulder, causing his gaze to return to you. “I know…” You replied. “You hardly scare me, Lee Minho.” You teased with a wry smile that even surprised you.

His disturbed face was slowly replaced with a pleasantly surprised grin similar to your own. You watched with feigned mockery as he raised the wrapping once again. “Then prove it, Tink.” You just scoffed and rolled your eyes at the shortened version of his unrelenting name for you and snatched the elastic cloth from his hand.

“Fine.” You huffed defiantly before looking at his abdomen once again. You tentatively pressed the end of the wrap against his heated skin that made you blush. You could feel him watching you and you suddenly felt like hiding.

You wrapped the bandage over several times, feeling yourself tense up every time you touched his bare skin, and secured it tightly once you were finished. “O—“ Your voice cracked when you tried to speak and your face heated as you cleared your throat. “Okay, you’re finished…”

You wouldn’t look him in the eyes, how could you after you basically forced him to let you run your hands all over his tan, muscular, and absolutely gorgeous skin?

“W—“ He hesitated and, despite yourself, you found your eyes instinctively seeking his own out to somehow read the words through his dark irises. You found he was searching your eyes as well with pursed lips before he looked away and cleared his throat as well. “Thank you.”

Huh?

“Channie-hyung wasn’t available when I returned home so I tried to take care of it myself. I guess my half-assed effort didn’t do much, huh?” He chuckled and looked back at you with a meek smile.

Who the fuck is this man and where did Lee Minho go?

He nervously chuckled and you realized you’d been staring at the man far too long. You took a deep breath and stepped back. “Well, I kind of owed it to you now, didn’t I?” You said it lightheartedly, but he furrowed his brows.

“You don’t ever have to owe me anything.”

You arched a brow, but he just turned and began packing away the first aid kit again. You watched his back, trying to remember why you came to his room in the first place. “Minho?”

He stilled his movements.

“What do you even do?” He turned and arched a brow at you and you rolled your eyes, stepping forward next to him to lean against the counter. “Like, you are obviously loaded…” You said gesturing to your luxurious surroundings. “You have a full staff with a doctor to patch up nasty bullet holes like this and god knows what else…” You both looked at his bandage. “And not to mention the bullets you cleared through those guys’ heads without even blinking an eye that night…”

He bit his lip and you followed the action with your eyes. You instinctively wet your own lips. After he was done staring at the marble countertop for an unnecessarily lengthy amount of time, he hesitantly turned his body to face you.

“You could say I sort of run something like a… secret organization?” He said tentatively like it was a question unto himself and you furrowed your brows.

You squinted skeptically at him. “So… you're telling me—“ Is that worry on his face? “—that you're a secret agent? Like a spy?” You looked at him in disbelief.

He sputtered a restrained laugh and looked at you with a suppressed smile. “I suppose you could say I’m like a spy.”

“LIKE a spy?”

He looked up like he was deliberating. “Sure. Like a spy.”

“But not actually a spy?”

He groaned at your questioning and ran a hand through his messy hair. Come to think of it, this is the most dressed-down look you’d seen on him. Gone were the button-ups and slacks, now replaced by sweats and a compression wrap over his shirtless body.

He stood straight and crossed his arms, obviously ready for the conversation to be over. “Does it matter? Look, it’s already really late and Yongbok will panic if he realizes you ran off.”

Oh shit, that’s right. That’s the whole reason you were even there. In Minho’s bathroom. Standing closely to him. With the man half naked and you in your flimsy, silk nightwear. Your peaked nipples seemed suddenly way more apparent as you crossed your arms over your chest. You rapidly blinked as if suddenly waking up and quickly stepped back.

“I-I wanted to ask you something…” He arched his brow and you continued. “Can you please call off the reinforcements? I know I made a bad decision and all, but I will honestly go crazy if I have to use the bathroom with the door open one more time.” You found yourself begging rather than demanding like you had initially intended.

Why, though?

He looked hesitant and you quickly added, “I don’t even mean all of the time! Like, I’ll keep my bedroom door open so he can check up on me and he can even watch me secretly while I’m around the house, I just want at least a little sense of privacy!”

You knew you sounded like a pathetic child, but you had resigned yourself to that fate as soon as you had to take a massive, violent shit earlier that day and you knew Felix had heard everything from the other room. Without any doors to create that sweet, sweet sound barrier? Ugh… You were still mortified to look at him.

You silently watched him with imploring eyes as he tiredly rubbed his brow. “You…” You widened your eyes with a hopeful energy pulsing through them, hoping to portray as such as he looked into your pleading eyes. He sighed. “I suppose those terms are fair…” You lit up like a Christmas tree before he raised a finger. “BUT, if you are EVER alone ANYWHERE, you need to let him know where you are and give him regular updates on your whereabouts to let him know if you are okay. Okay?”

You vehemently nodded your head and perked up. “Thank GOD!”

He smirked and crossed his arms again. “I think I like you calling me a god. Have I upgraded from a narcissistic asshole?” He tilted his head with raised brows and you were, once again, reminded how gorgeous this man really was.

You rolled your eyes and went to shove his shoulder, but before you could even touch him, he grabbed your wrist in the blink of an eye. For some reason, you both looked surprised as he froze with your wrist in his hand from less than a foot away. Your heart was racing and you chalked it up to being from fear of someone grabbing you.

But why did that conclusion not feel quite right…?

Before you could ponder it, he dropped your arm and quickly stepped away. “Fuck. I-I’m sorry.” He shook his head and you watched worry swirl in his eyes.

No…

No, you weren’t afraid of this man. You don’t know why, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you intentionally. Even after everything… “It was just instinct! I swear! I would never intend to—“

“I know, Minho.” You cut off his panicking, but his brows gave away his lingering concern. “I guess I’m just going to have to take your word for it on the whole spy thing, though, because those were super fast reflexes.” You chuckled to ease the tension and his face softened slightly.

It was silent for a moment and he cleared his throat again. “Well, I should walk you back to your room, it’s late and I’ve had… a very long few days.”

You took a large breath and promptly left the bathroom. “I’m perfectly fine on my own, you know?” There’s that twinge of irritation again…

”I know, I know. But if Yongbok is awake, I want to be able to ease his worries and update him on his role in taking care of you.

Taking care of…

Not treating, not monitoring. Taking care of. You supposed that’s what they were doing, huh? Felix was, in fact, doing much more than treating or monitoring. He waited on you hand and foot and you were being a bitch about it. You made a promise to yourself right then and there to let him know as soon as possible how much you appreciated his care and apologize for your behavior.

You nodded, both to yourself and to Minho’s reasoning before making your way back to your room with the mysterious and intriguing man just a few steps behind you.

__________________________________________

Felix was a saint. Not only did he forgive you when you apologized, but he went as far to say it was his fault for being overbearing. Which was obviously preposterous.

With your new parameters in effect, Felix decided to leave the estate shortly, before quickly returning with gifts for you. Among them were several jigsaw puzzles and you perked up at the sight of them. Over time, you had come to really appreciate those puzzles. So much so that you had already finished all of the ones currently at the estate, strangely enough. All kinds of different collections displayed on random tables throughout the mansion.

Felix was true to his word and gave you your space, only briefly giving you regular check-ups as you sat in one of the many living rooms that giant freaking place held and began the therapeutic work of putting together an adorable puzzle of a litter of kittens.

You would love to have cats…

When a sudden ruckus erupted down the hall, you furrowed your brows and looked behind you to the source. Down the corridor you saw the same seven men that you had seen regularly around the house (obviously minus Felix) dressed in what looked like active-wear gathering around the front entryway.

The men never approached you, but that was most likely because you tried to make yourself scarce once you saw one of them. Maybe Dr. Chris, Felix, and Minho you trusted, but you didn’t know those other men and it made you sick to your stomach thinking of being alone with a stranger without one of those three men accompanying you.

”Okay, guys, this is just routine training today, so no fire hazards, alright Hyunjin?” You heard Minho announce to the group.

Training? Like their super-secret-spy type training?

You felt yourself stand and march over to them without even formulating what you were doing. Who needs rational thought anyway?

If you were remembering correctly, the one named Jeongin spotted you first with a look of surprise. “Come. On. Hyuuung. We need to be prepared for anyth—“ Jeongin harshly elbowed the one who you assumed was Hyunjin and quickly spoke up.

’Hy-Mr. Lee, sir. I think someone is here for you…” He nodded a bow to you and you returned it, giving a meek smile to the group before meeting Minho’s gaze.

He looked slightly surprised before giving you… was that a smile? No, surely not…

You cleared your throat as Felix made his way over with hurried steps and a worried expression. You, then, glanced over at the other men who had become quiet as death upon you stepping up next to Minho. You scanned over them before slightly bowing. “Um… Good morning…” You introduced yourself before hearing a small ‘oh’ from the man beside you. You turned your head as he stepped forward and turned to face you again.

”I guess I haven’t really introduced them all to you yet… These are my… This is my inner circle.” He hesitated and turned to gesture to each of them. “Some I’m sure you already know. Like Channie-Hyung, Yongbok, and Jisung.” The three nodded politely with soft smiles. “But to formally introduce you to the others, this is Changbin…” The shorter, muscular man offered a shy smile. “Hyunjin…” Your eyebrows raise at the incredibly handsome man as his full lips formed a smile as well. “Seungmin…”

”Nice to formally meet you.” He said with an amused grin and you nervously chuckled as you informed him likewise.

”Then there’s our maknae, Jeonginnie.” Hyunjin cooed at the youngest when he also gave a shy smile and he received a death-glare in return.

All of the men remained incredibly polite, bowing their heads when introduced and maintaining their distance. Shit, they probably already know everything about you and your situation… especially considering the fact that no one asked you who you were or why you were there.

You guessed you understood and you were actually somewhat grateful. It saved you from having to explain it yourself and relive all of the pain again…

”It’s very nice to meet you all.” You gave the men a polite smile before turning to Minho again. You were on a mission. “Minho, can I please come train with you guys?”

You could hear a pin drop with how silent the room got. “You… you want to train?” You gave a determined nod before slumping your shoulders at his shake of the head. “No. No way.”

“What?! Why?!”

”Um, I think it’s best we head out first. We will meet you there sir.” The youngest quickly relayed before walking out the front door with the other men in tow, Felix quickly retreating to some other corner of the estate.

After watching the mass leave, you fixed your glare on Minho’s resolute expression. “Not only are you not employed by me, but you also have an injured arm—“

”It could be good therapy for me! And I can even raise it horizontally now!” You demonstrated the movement with gritted teeth, trying to hide the pain, and he responded with an unimpressed visage.

“You are already receiving therapy and you would just be a liability. So, no. End of discussion.”

A liability? Ouch.

You felt anger rise up in you and you took a step near him, his features remaining stone-cold. “You… You’re a… ugh!” You couldn’t even muster up the will to call him an asshole anymore. What the fuck was WRONG with you?

With the lack of anything better to say, you furiously stomped away up to your bedroom to fume in private, but not without flipping him off the entire way there.

__________________________________________

“Knock knock, love.” Felix announced before stepping through your open doorway. It hadn’t been long since you petulantly curled up on the plush armchair by your window to angrily watch the rain outside.

Of course it would rain. Apparently fate had decided to mock you as if you were an actress in some sort of sad music video. Surely Felix would agree.

You watched with hesitancy as he held out his hand to you. “Follow me.” He said calmly with a smile. “I want to show you a new room.” You perked up at that notion. You had been running out of places to explore recently and the prospect of seeing something new was like a kid going to a playground.

You took his hand and allowed him to lead you to one of the many locked double-doors on the estate. What you saw made you gasp in awe. Bookshelves upon bookshelves lined the walls of a massive, two-storied library that was stocked to max capacity with what looked like brand new books as well as older than hell pieces of literature. All surrounding a cozy living area with couches, armchairs, and even a fireplace.

”Minho-hyung must really trust you to let me show you this. These books mean a great deal to him and many of them are extremely fragile as well.” He trusts me? You thought as you watched Felix’s eyes widen. “I-I mean Mr. Lee…”

You furrowed your brows and turned to him. “Why do you do that?” You asked and he just blinked at you with worry written on his features.

”D-do what?”

Playing dumb, are we? “That! Those other guys do it too! Why don’t you just call him Hyung? You all are obviously close. Why try to hide it?”

Felix nervously rubbed the side of his neck and looked down. “It’s not like we are trying to hide it, necessarily. We are just trained to remain professional. It’s just much harder when we are all home and much more relaxed.”

You nodded your head in understanding. “But why do you try to hide it with me? I’m not exactly here on business.” You arched your brow and he smiled sweetly.

”It…” He seemed hesitant to speak until he sighed and lowered his head. “If we keep things professional with you, it might be easier when we have to see you go…” You were taken aback. Easier? Is he saying they would miss you? Why? You were a nobody, and you were honestly kind of a bitch. No, that can’t be it.

”What do you mean by easier?”

He seemed confused by your question. “When you spend so much time with someone, it’s easy to get attached. Even the coldest heart can find warmth in someone they find trustworthy and important.”

Trustworthy? Important? You? What in the world did you do to earn those titles?

Felix must have read the disbelief on your face because he continued. “You and I have spent a lot of time together over the past months. I’ve learned a lot about you and your habits.” You blushed. He most definitely knows a lot about you. He’s seen a lot too. “I know you are a good person. I have an eye for these things.”

He winked at you and you huffed a chuckle.

“And Minho-hyung knows you are a good person too. He just has a different way of… expressing his feelings.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “No, it’s true! We discuss you and your progress often and the kind of leniency he gives you in this place is unheard of for anyone other than our circle. Even some of the house staff haven’t been allowed in some of these rooms you’ve seen.”

What on god’s green earth did you say to them to trust you? I mean, of course they can trust you. You bear no ill will toward any of them, not seriously anyway. But why do they think so? Felix could definitely see the confusion on your face when he gently placed a hand on your upper back and guided you two further into the treasure-trove of books.

“Don’t think about it too much, love. Just know that everything we do, we do out of good and pure intentions.”

You definitely thought about it too much.

__________________________________________

You were determined.

You were going to get out of that damned house, even if just for a minute, whether he liked it or not. By exploring the house, you ended up finding a board room, like true business-official type shit. A long table surrounded by office chairs and even a projector screen. And with a small tip from Felix, you knew they all happened to have a meeting that morning.

An actual business meeting. Not the one including half-naked women this time.

So, after gearing up in some serious workout attire, you marched yourself to that exact room, not even bothering to knock. You were on a mission. ”Lee Minho, I demand to be included in your training. I won’t take no for an answer!”

His were the first eyes you seeked out when you entered the room and you willed yourself to not back down.

You, then, remembered the presence of the other seven men in the room and how silent everyone had become. It was as if they thought, if they move even slightly, all hell would break loose. And by looking at Minho’s facial expression, they might have good reason to think as such.

”I. Said. NO. Now please see your way out. As you can see, we are clearly busy.” You were pissed, no, more than pissed, but you squared your shoulders.

However, before you could utter a word, Jisung spoke up. “Hyung. I think we should let her. She is obviously passionate about it.” Minho glared at his friend and then back at you. He was silent for a moment, as if he was deliberating, before speaking again.

”No.”

”FUCKING HELL, MAN! I have been sitting on my ass here for months now for a reason I’m sure everyone here already knows about—!“ You watched guilty expressions color the room. “—and now that I’m getting better, you’re not going to help me defend myself if something like that happens again?” You witnessed his eyes widen as a traitorous tear fell down your cheek. “Fuck. You. Lee Minho!”

Resilience be damned, you were itching to escape that suffocating room and the problem within it. You stormed away once more with a harsh slam of the door and a burning fire inside you fueled by hate and anger.

Fuck this.

__________________________________________

You felt a plop on the couch next to you and you jolted in place with a tiny squeak.

After the meeting room fiasco, you had been spending all of your time in the library. You were so immersed in your book that you didn’t even realize there was another presence in the room.

With a quick whip of the head and an incredulous look on your face, you watched Minho smirk next to you in amusement. “For someone who is super quick with their tongue, you sure are slow with everything else.” He chuckled as you came down from your fright and you placed a hand on your rapidly beating heart.

That motherfucker just about killed you! Well, not literally, but still! You closed your eyes to collect yourself before opening them again to glare at him.

However, instead of that same annoying smirk, his face turned into one of regret. “Shit, I’m sorry… I didn’t even think if that would make you… fuck, I didn’t—“

”It’s fine!” You quickly cut him off, knowing where he was going with that statement. “I-I’m fine… you just startled me a bit.” You calmly placed your bookmark before turning back to him with narrowed eyes. He looked a bit more relieved.

”Still, I need to be more… considerate.” He looked down at his hands, avoiding your eyes. “In more ways than one…” You furrowed your brows in suspicion before he returned your gaze once more. “I’ve thought about it a lot and I realized that I haven’t necessarily been easy on you throughout all of this. I might have played a part in helping you physically, but I didn’t consider how this would all affect you mentally.”

You were speechless. Was this the same man? He’s actually being… remorseful…

“So, yeah. Sorry about all that…” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck while averting his eyes. He clearly wasn’t used to apologizing so much. “I, um… I wanted to ask you if we could, like, start over?”

You had never seen the man fumble so much since meeting him and it was quite a refreshing sight. “Why? Are you about to drop another ridiculous rule on me and you’re just saying this to lessen the blow?” You huffed a bitter chuckle.

You could see his temper start to rise before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m saying this…” There was a slight edge to his voice before he opened his eyes again with a much more gentle demeanor. “—because I am tired of us butting heads.” He slumped into the backrest and you arched a brow. “And also because you were right.”

Okay. Something is seriously wrong.

”I thought it would be dangerous for you to train with professionals and be subjected to a room full of random men.” He limply turned his head your way while remaining melted into the cushions. “And yes, there will be other men there. All of my subordinates use this training center. It’s one of my most used gyms for my… industry.”

You scoffed. “Pft. ‘Industry’” You mocked with finger quotations.

He smirked. “Yes. Industry.” His face gradually returned to a more serious disposition. “There is also the matter of secrecy.” You nodded your head. Yeah, that made sense considering his occupation, but who were you going to tell? “Not saying I don’t trust you—“

”Why do you trust me?” You blurted, the question still buzzing around in your mind like an annoying pest. He furrowed his brows as if he didn’t understand. You continued. “Like, yeah, I get why you saved me now and all, but why do you trust ME?”

His brow slightly softened and he cleared his throat. “Y-you have given me no reason not to trust you. Why? Did you do something?” He said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “No, asshole. It’s obvious to me that you should trust me, but you’re just going to take my word for it? You must be a really shitty spy.” He guffawed loudly, sitting up with a bright grin as he seemed like himself again.

”You haven’t seen what I can do, Tinkerbell.” You rolled your eyes, but you did find the notion intriguing.

”Oh yeah? What can you do?” You could see a spark light up in his eyes as he stared into your own and you had to gulp down the saliva that pooled in your mouth from the sight.

”Well…” He shifted to face you, elbow now propped up on the back of the couch. “You’ll get to see some of it when we train you.”

You felt your heart jolt. “When you train me?” You felt the corners of your mouth slowly lifting and his followed right behind.

”We leave at noon. Unless you’ve changed your mind?” He mused.

”No! No, I want to!” You looked at the clock. 11:30. Shit, he couldn’t have told you a little sooner? You sprang to your feet and he stood as well. “Just let me go change and I’ll meet you in the foyer.”

He just gave you a brief nod before turning on his heel and leaving you giddily buzzing in your skin.

__________________________________________

Somehow, you had plenty of options to choose from, but you opted for a simple T-shirt and joggers. Not the cutest, but who were you trying to impress?

A vision of Minho flashed in your mind and you reeled from the thought. Ugh. Why did my head think of HIM? In fact, why were you thinking so much about him in the first place? You chalked it up to it being from interacting more frequently nowadays. Yes. That must be it. You resolutely threw on a hoodie over your shirt and marched your way to the foyer.

“You ready? It won’t be easy.” He said from where he was leaned up against the staircase banister. You took in the sight of his workout attire, not really taking the time to fully appreciate it until now.

He wore a loose pair of sweatpants and an airy tank top that allowed you to gaze at his intricate sleeve of tattoos once more. He would almost look human if he hadn’t been blessed with his other-worldly beauty.

You blinked away the thoughts and gave a firm nod to him in response. “I don’t want easy. I want effective.”

He smirked and stood up straight when you approached. “We’ll see soon how confident you are in that statement.” You glared and he gestured his head. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Instead of heading out the front, he made his way further into the house. You furrowed your brows. “Where are the other guys? And where are you going?”

”Tsk. So many questions!” He mused and grinned at your responding scowl. “The guys are already there and, as to where we are going…” He stepped up to a large door located in the next room and opened the door for you to enter first, your face surely gawking at the luxury. You heard a chuckle from behind you. “Your reactions are always so adorable.” He smoothly teased.

EXCUSE ME?!

You whipped around and glared at him as he just continued walking past you. “Now…” He turned back to face you again. “Which one do you want to take?” He said plainly as he gestured to the plethora of extremely expensive cars.

The garage definitely looked like it belonged in a spy movie, but you were stumped. He said he was like a spy. Not a spy. Like a spy. You were still racking your brain as to what that meant.

Your eyes grazed over the fancy marble interior of the museum-like garage and the cars on display. How can someone have this much disposable income?

You didn’t know the first thing about cars, why did you have to pick?

When you just pointed to some random car, he raised his brows. “Really? The Rolls Royce?”

“Well, shit I dunno! Why do I need to pick? You obviously know more than I do when it comes to this!”

He cackled and led you closer to your chosen car. “Oh, I know waaay more than you, Tink.” You grumbled and he chuckled as he opened the door for you, letting you slide into the disgustingly luxurious vehicle.

”Why do you even have all of these cars? Don’t you have someone else to drive you?” He donned a cocky half-grin when he slipped into the driver seat.

”Sure, when I’m on business I do. But we are just going to train.”

In the blink of an eye, his face was directly in front of yours as he reached across you, eyes fixed on your seatbelt strap as he grasped the material. As soon as he stretched it across your body, he seemed to notice your surprise.

He froze, blinked at you rapidly, then quickly averted his gaze back down to the strap to buckle you in. He cleared his throat and gulped before starting the car. “Plus…” He added with a slightly strained voice. “It’s not nearly as fun riding as it is driving.”

__________________________________________

“Was the bag seriously necessary? Who would I even tell?!” You seethed as you threw the black, silky fabric at him.

Before you two even left the driveway, he forced you to shove your head in a stupid black hood so you “couldn’t know the location” once you left the estate later. You told him that it was unnecessary and stupid, but the man insisted.

You ripped the damned thing off as soon as he put the car in park.

”Have you forgotten what I told you? About my work? Why are you surprised with the secrecy?” He explained calm and composed as he discarded the bag in the car again.

”Well then blindfold me next time! I could barely breathe!” You were over exaggerating, of course. That material was extremely airy and breathable, you just wanted to feel superior to such treatment.

”Well excuse me, your highness…” He rolled his eyes as he pulled out his keys and walked up to the door of a large, nondescript, concrete building. Unlocking and opening the door for you, he gave you an exaggerated bow.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you passed the threshold, and marched into what looked like a massive gym complex of some sort.

However, the entire building was devoid of life. Of course that’s not including the seven familiar figures you saw fighting on the far end of the room. ”I thought you said all of your employees train here?” You said with an arched brow.

Minho passed you with a shrug. “Not today they don’t.” Well that answered nothing…

”Hey there, girly! Ready to get that blood pumping?”

”Calm down, Changbin. She is still going through therapy, remember?” Dr. Chris told the younger muscle man from where he was doing crazy heavy deadlifts off to the side.

”I know, I know, grandpa.” Changbin smirked at the doctor’s glare. “But just remember: ‘What hurts today makes you stronger tomorrow.’”

The other men groaned in tandem and you found yourself slightly smiling. “That’s a great motivational outlook, Changbin.” You said to the group as you watched Changbin’s face light up.

”Okay, enough, enough.” Minho declared. “Today’s training is obviously a bit different than usual.” He gestured vaguely at you. “We have a base level trainee and she needs to be trained from ground zero.” He gave you a side-eye and a cocky smirk. “Maybe even lower than that…”

”Hey!” You made a move to give him a lighthearted shove, and then was immediately reminded of what happened last time as his hand shot to your wrist to stop the action. You tried to free yourself, but his grip was like stone. “Let me go, asshole!”

”Make me.” He said as he suddenly faced you, pulling you closer. “Come on, show me. What would you do if you wanted to be released?”

You didn’t have an answer for him. Any move you could possibly make would be caught by his cat-like reflexes. You just challenged him with your eyes before his own softened, along with his grip on your wrist.

Just as your wrist was released he gave you a couple pats on the head. “Don’t worry Tinkerbell. I’m sure you will figure it out eventually.” You just about growled at him as he walked over to stand by Chris who was now seated on a bench nearby. “Channie-hyung and I are just here to observe and critique ALL of you, so do your best.” The man made an annoyed expression and waved the back of his hand in front of him. “Well? Get on with it!”

With that, you found yourself surrounded by six (frankly gorgeous) men looming over you.

“Hey! Back off! Don’t all go at her at once! I said ground zero you pabos!” Minho shouted from the sidelines before the others retreated and Changbin stepped in front of you.

”Calm down, Minho. This is what I’m here for.” You breathed in a resolute huff and nodded at Changbin. “I’m ready.”

__________________________________________

“Watch out for her arm!”

…

”Don’t actually try to hurt her, idiot!”

…

”That’s too rough!”

…

The entire training session Minho had shouted at each and every one of the men trying to teach me at least once and it was growing tiresome. “Why even let me train if I can’t even, I dunno, actually train???” You grumbled at the stubborn man as the group was taking a break. “I have legitimately learned nothing with the parameters you have set!”

”For real, hyung. You aren’t letting her show her full potential. She needs—“

Minho instantly cut Changbin off. “I will decide what is needed and I think that it would be better for her to just watch for now. It’s obvious that she is not ready.”

”WHA—?” You squealed with widened eyes and a disbelieving expression.

”Actually, I think she is doing quite well in her recovery…” Dr. Chris stated matter-of-factly where he stood next to the other six men drenched in sweat.

You watched Minho slowly turn his murderous expression to the doctor, but you stepped into his line of sight before he had the chance to retaliate. “Please let me continue… I promise I will take it easy, I just…” You looked down at your restless hands before returning your gaze to his blackened irises. “This is just really important to me…”

You watched as the man’s face minutely softened and glanced at the seven men around you that also awaited his instruction.

”Please?” You implored, not used to such pleading from your end. His eyes darted back to you before he moved to rub his temples with a sigh.

“Fine.” He groaned. “But base-line self defense only. We can move on to more advanced training once you have recovered a bit more.”

You don’t know why you felt such relief come over you. Maybe it was the satisfaction of even marginally getting through to him, but you let a wide grin escape as your body involuntarily moved to hug the man.

What the fuck?

Just as quickly as you embraced the man, you retreated just as fast with furiously heated cheeks. Why in the world did you do that? You were FAR from hugging terms with him! He probably just about shot you in the head from the unexpected touch!

However, you couldn’t help but notice the citrus and sandalwood scent emanating from his solid, warm body. His skin felt like flames against yours and you welcomed the heat. It didn’t last long, but the simple contact with him made your blood boil and quickly reddened your entire face.

When you pulled back and cleared your throat, you witnessed a millisecond of bewilderment on his stone-cold face before it was immediately schooled back into place (but that did nothing to cover up his bright red ears). “Th-thank you.” You mumbled before you escaped to the water fountain that was, blessedly, on the other side of the room. Never mind the fact you had a water bottle already with you by the group…

__________________________________________

By the time you and the rest of the boys finished (which was a very productive start if you do say so yourself), Minho had informed he was called in for an unexpected ‘business meeting’ across town and that training would finish early for the day as he needed to take a couple of his men with him.

You were a bit disappointed, but at least you got to do something. Which was more than you expected honestly.

As you requested, you were blindfolded for the car ride back instead of the stifling bag he donned you with on the way there, but you rode back with only five of his men instead.

You could feel all of their eyes on you as you rode in silence. Jeongin drove the unnecessarily expensive limousine, Changbin, and Hyunjin sat across from you, and Felix and Chan bracketed you on each side.

The silence was even more suffocating than the bag you wore earlier as you felt yourself start to become antsy. “For the love of god, please someone say something! I feel like I’m an exhibit in a museum right now.” You whined and buried your face in your hands (even though you couldn’t see anything anyway).

”And what a lovely piece of art you are, darling~” Hyunjin lilted before you heard a slap of skin and an over dramatic squawk from said man.

”Yah! Don’t be a creep!” You heard Changbin exclaim as the precious Felix giggled next to you.

”It was supposed to be a compliment!” You heard someone click their tongue before Chan decided to speak up.

”It’s interesting isn’t it…” He commanded the whole group’s attention with practiced ease and you quickly realized the hidden influence this man had over the lot of them. Which would make sense due to the fact that the doctor had probably saved most of, if not all of their lives at some point in time. “I haven’t seen or heard of Minho ever taking it easy on a trainee before… Most of them have to come see me even after their first session with him.”

”For real though, the man is ruthless with everyone else! He will even push them through the pain of broken bones!” Hyunjin exclaimed incredulously.

”He wants to make sure they are prepared through anything, even excruciating pain.” Jeongin stated simply from the driver’s seat.

Holy shit, these guys are no joke! “What the fuck? Why can’t he do the same with me?!” The entire car went dead silent in response. You could feel the annoyance creep into your bones. “Is it because I’m a girl? Seriously?!”

You heard Felix scoff next to you. “As if.” He sputtered in amusement. “The female trainees are some of the toughest among all of us.”

Then why?

”Maybe he just has a soft spot for you…” You heard Hyunjin mumble and you outright cackled at that one.

”Are you kidding?! Have you seen the way he treats me??” You question with an incredulous chuckle.

“You never knooow~” Hyunjin stated with a teasing lilt to his voice before you heard another smack.

And before another word could be said, your blindfold was removed and you were ushered into the estate once more.

A soft spot? What a joke.

__________________________________________

I hope you guys are happy with the turn-around. 😏

I’ve missed you all so dearly and I apologize for the wait. 🥺 I would say that the next part will come out sooner, but I don’t want to guarantee that if life decides to fuck with me some more. 🙃

As always, please like, follow, and share!

Thanks baby Stays! Love you and missed you guys! 💋😽💋

And of course my squad and tag list:

@lyramundana

@channieandhisgoonsquad

@moonlightndaydreams

@queenmea604

@sweetracha

@rylea08

@maknaeswrld

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

#lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #lee know smut #stray kids fanfics #skz smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #i love my babies #triggers #heavy angst #rape/noncon #tw sui attempt #eventual smut #eventual romance #stray kids minho #depressing shit #please dont hate me #tw ptsd

144 notes · View notes

cosmossystem · 1 month

Text

"but trump will be worse!"

there is a genocide NOW. there is covid NOW. there are anti-mask bills being proposed NOW. drag is getting banned NOW. hormone replacement therapy is being banned or restricted NOW. biden could have protected abortion right and codified roe v wade NOW and he didnt, and it got repealed. trans rights are being stripped RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!!

does none of that matter to you? do you not care about the tens of thousands palestinians RIGHT NOW (cannot stress enough: this very moment) being murdered or the hundreds of thousands displaced because israel's military is being funded by your "lesser evil"? do you not care about your trans siblings having their rights stripped before their very eyes? do you not care about about the fact that they are currently, right now, as we speak trying to ban face masks because anti-israel protesters use them, despite there being a fucking pandemic outside STILL killing thousands of people PER WEEK?

i thought you were supposed to care about that. you like to pretend that you do.

there is no lesser evil.

trump does not fucking matter because all of this shit is happening RIGHT NOW, under biden, with a majority blue house and majority blue senate. youre feeding your gay and trans and disabled and palestinian siblings to the lions RIGHT NOW if you vote for biden. thats why we're putting pressure on him by holding our votes. if fucking macklemore can understand that, then so can you.

#politics #biden #trump #social justice #palestine #disability rights #cannot state enough: fuck you guys if youre fucking voting for biden #💙 cass #💿 red

280 notes · View notes

battymommastuff · 1 year

Text

The Accident (Pt. 2)

Batmom x Batfamily Prompt: At least you did something...

TW: VERY DARK!!!!

Part 1

"She isn't making any progress. We've tried everything from electroshock therapy to simply giving her a journal to write her feelings."

You could hear your personal therapist talking to your husband...well ex husband by now. Your marriage died the day he put you in this damn place. What place? None other than Arkham Asylum. At first he could live with what you did, he understood what you did. Everyone understood why you did it, but what happened after...he couldn't live with it.

Bruce watched as his wife shut down. You became a shell of what you once were. The warm, welcoming mother that everyone knew you to be died. Something cold, and sinister was left in her place. The Gotham criminals began to fear you more than Batman himself. Batman held back...he pulled his punches. You...you didn't. You couldn't. This life, the scum of Gotham took your son away from you. How could Bruce just sit there and be okay with it?

Everything came to a boiling point when he walked into the manor with his newest sidekick, Tim Drake...

"Y/N, this is Tim Drake. He will be assisting us in our...work." Bruce said and rested a hand on the young man's shoulder. Instead of a warm greeting or a smile that one usually got when meeting Y/N Wayne, Tim got a stone cold glare.

"Jason's grave isn't even covered in grass, and you're already replacing him?" You growled as you stood from your seat on the couch. Tim flinched at your tone, and moved back a bit. He heard such good things about you. This wasn't how he was expecting things to go.

"Good job Bruce, get another kid...let's see how long he lasts before he's in the grave too." You spat before storming off. That night, you chose to go on patrol alone. While Bruce and Tim were doing their own thing, you were spending your night alone. As you sat perched on a ledge, watching the city that you've grown to hate, all you could think of was Tim. How could Bruce just move on so quickly? You weren't surprised. He spent most of that night scolding you and lecturing you for nearly killing the Joker. Now the bastard was in a coma, and you wished he was dead.

The sound of a woman screaming knocked you from your thoughts, and you looked down seeing the said woman blocking her young child from an attacker. You don't know what happened at that moment, but something snapped. You weren't going to let another mother's heart be broken, or the child's. No more families were going to be broken because of scum like this. You blacked out again, and this time you came to be pinned to the brick wall by Batman. Robin was hovering over the man you'd just beaten. He pressed two fingers to his neck then looked at Batman. Robin shook his head, and then looked at you. Instead of horror, or remorse...you smirked, "At least I did something." You whispered to your husband.

Now here you were, wasting away in the cells of Arkham. Eating food that was stale, and cold. It made you miss Alfred's cooking. Several inmates tried to gang up on you, and quickly learned why that was a bad idea.

"The doctors are beginning to fear her. She's got a rage inside of her that can't be tamed. Whatever set her off...doesn't seem to want to fade away." Your therapist looked over at you, chained to the table that you were forced to sit at. Bruce clenched his jaw as he looked at you. You'd lost weight, and your face was sunken in. You looked half dead.

"Then we'll find something new. I'm not giving up on her. If you can't help her, then I'll have to find someone who can." Bruce snapped. He knew that keeping you here would kill you in the end. You weren't made for a place like this. He wanted you home with him and Alfred. It was where you belonged.

Little did he know that the solution to his problem was going to be solved...

It would be several weeks later, close to when visiting hours would end. You were sitting in your cell with your back facing the door when you heard it open.

"Mom?"

That voice made your entire body go cold. Yes the tone was deeper, and a little gravely, but you knew that voice. The Gotham accent...it couldn't be anyone else. Slowly your head turned, and you nearly fainted when your eyes met the ones staring back at you...

To be continued...

(I know most wanted a pt.2 with Jason's reaction, but I got a little carried away lol. I promise I will make a pt.3 with his reaction!)

2K notes · View notes

coryosbaby · 9 months

Text

Your Face .

Fandom: “Saw (2004)”

Pairing: Adam Faulkner Stanheight x fem! Reader

Synopsis: you’ll never leave him again.

Cw: angst, mentions of past murder, injuries, money struggles, mentions of past sex work, night terrors, codependency, attachment issues // nsfw . hand jobs, nipple play, cum eating, praise, mommy kink, oral (f recieving)

🪚

Couple’s therapy really isn’t easy when the both of you were victims of a fucking serial killer.

If you can even call it couples therapy— talking about how you feel towards each other and trying to fix your relationship is some sort of therapy, you guess.

Maybe it’s not healthy to stay with the person you were held in captivity with. But even before that, you were attached at the hip. Even if you were both on and off before the incident, you were still both incredibly infatuated with one another. You would never be able to escape that face: Adam’s beautiful, almost angelic face. It’s been that way since the end of high school graduation, and it’ll be that way until the end of your life.

You know why Jigsaw had chosen you. It was obvious, wasn’t it? Your money situation had been terrible before he had taken you, and in his mind, you were a whore, a dancer, a prostitute. But never in your mind could you ever contemplate why he chose Adam: your sweet boy, your best friend, your sweetheart. Adam.

You still dream about the last day you were there, sometimes. When you had carried out the plan Adam had come up with: just shoot me. Shoot me in the shoulder so he thinks I’m dead. And then get us both out. And when you had, trying every desperate attempt to find the key to the chains, you had reached your hand down into the sink drain. It was a wonder you had somehow escaped those chains without having to cut your own foot off. Adam’s cries sounded a lot in your ears, now. In your own haste to go and get help you had left him there with John Kramer. Even when he had begged you not to. Even when he almost died.

It was a wonder you both got out alive. It was a wonder you had managed to come back, fight the man off, and get him out of there.

And ever since, it’s like Adam has only ever though about that. The moment you left him in that room. The fear he felt, the impending doom.

Maybe you both need an actual therapist .

Some nights, nights like these, Adam has problems sleeping. When he does, it’s like he’s placed back in there in that room with you— being tortured, shot, and humiliated. And on some nights like these, he wakes you up for your affection and assistance. Eyes shooting open, an extreme amount of fear goes through the poor boy’s tired body. He’s there.

He’s quick to shake you awake. Your eyes open with confusion, and then once the situation settles in you understand it’s one of those nights. Lifting yourself up, you frown when you see the tears beginning to well in Adam’s eyes.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

He sniffles, trying to cover his face now that he’s being half brought back into reality.

“I just woke up. I don’t—“ his hands grab at his hair, pulling, as he cries. “— I don’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, sweetheart..”

You push his hands out of his hair and replace them with yours instead. You soothe his scalp with your fingernails, and kiss him. You used to have night terrors for this same reason, so you understand how this must feel for him. He moves down so he can lay on your thighs. He feels sad and embarrassed and scared. You stroke the outline of his face with gentle fingers: beautiful, strong nose, sharp jawline, gorgeous eyes, plump lips. Any woman’s dream.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You murmur to him. He quickly shakes his head. He lets out a pained little moan, almost like a scared little rabbit. You lean down, and kiss him on his nose.

“I know, honey. I know it’s hard. But you aren’t there anymore, okay? You’re right here. I’m right here.”

He nods, but you know he’s just trying to stop you from seeing how deeply the night terrors affect him. He’s always been such a strong boy.

Your forehead pressed against his cheek, you whisper to him.

“Do you want something to drink? Some water, some tea? I can make you some..”

“Y-Yeah. Maybe some water, momma, if that’s okay.”

That sweet little nickname you adore so much from him. You smile.

“Okay.” You lift him off of you, rounding the bed to make your way out of the bedroom. “I’m gonna go into the kitchen—“

“Please don’t leave me!”

It’s immediate, the way you freeze up and stop at the end of the bed. You almost start to cry yourself.

Adam is embarrassed at his outburst, and he sobs, all of his emotions flooding out. He crawls over to you and wraps his arms around your waist. He rests his head against your thighs. You know now that the glass of water will have to wait a bit when he utters that familiar set of words. The same tone, same amount of fear lacing his cracking voice. It brings it all back to you, just as Adam’s dreams bring it back to him.

You let him cry out for a few more minutes, stopping to grab some tissues from the bedside table and clean him up when he’s calmed. Your fingers settle into his hair; soft and wavy under your fingertips, you shush him with a gentle hum.

“I’ll never leave you, Adam,” you whisper, soft. “Never. I swear.”

And you know that it’s true. Your fingertips move down to his jaw, lifting his face up so he can look at you. He’s coming back down from his nightmare, and real life is starting to seep in. He isn’t in that bathroom anymore. He’s in his apartment— our apartment, including you, in his brain. Not the one he got taken from. Not the bathroom. This is new, this is safe— and jigsaw is dead.

You sit down next to him on the queen sized mattress you had bought together. He buries his face in your neck, breathes in the familiar scent of vanilla, laundry detergent, and sweet strawberry perfume. Unadulterated bliss.

“Promise?” He sniffles, sticking his hands in between the valley of your breasts and traveling down to your tummy. He rests it there, soft.

“I promise.”

And when he’s calmed, when you’ve wiped all his tears away, you go and get him a glass of water. Only this time, his arms are wrapped around you from behind tightly the entire way to the kitchen.

Safe.

He drinks about two glasses. When you guide him back to your shared room you sit him down on the bed.

“I don’t think I can go back to sleep,” he murmurs, embarrassed. You make sure that he doesn’t become ashamed of nights like these.

“It’s okay,” you reply. You smile as you kiss his forehead “Im off tomorrow. We can just stay up and go to sleep when you feel like it.”

Adam is now thankful that you’ve moved on from your life of sex work and into retail, because that means that he doesn’t have to worry about you as much. So it puts him in a good mood to remember that, and also to remember that he’s gonna have you for the rest of the day. He leans forward, plants a kiss to your lips. He smells like cigarettes.

You kiss him again. Harsher, a bit. Tongue slipping inside the warm canal of his mouth. Perfection.

You don’t want to urge him to do anything sexual with you right now unless he doesn’t want to. So you pull away, thumb brushing over the scar on his shoulder. It’s a spot you’ve come accustomed to— one that he’s sensitive about, but not with you. Never with you.

He leans in again and his kiss is heavy. He’s desperate, now, not only craving your body but also craving a distraction.

“Wait,” you breathe against his lips. “Are you sure, baby? Sure you wanna do this right now?”

“I want it..” he whines. His hand grabs yours and places it over his bulge. “Please? It hurts..”

You can’t resist him when he gets like this, and you know it helps him forget the things that plague his thoughts. So your palm grinds down into that spot that he laid your hands on. He breathes out a small breathy sound, one that makes him grind up into your hand. His body is slowly making its way down onto the bed. Laying down, he can see the lace slip adorning your body starting to fall down, down, down. Your cleavage is pretty, he thinks. Nice and soft enough to stick his cock in between.

He’s wearing one of his white shirts, and you lift it up to his shoulders to expose his bare torso. He’s gained a bit of weight since that wretched room, a little bit of his tummy beginning to fatten up. You find it absolutely adorable. Kissing there, you make your way up to his chest and pepper small bites on his chest. Marking him there is your favorite activity.

Your tongue laves over one of his areolas, kissing and scraping your teeth on it. He mewls, a small little “‘s good.” leaving his pretty lips. He’s always had sensitive nipples, and you love to play around with them.

He lifts himself up so he can slide the rest of his shirt off. Pretty muscled biceps replace the white fabric of the sleeves, and on one of them the gunshot scar sits. He’s still so perfect.

“My perfect boy,” you coo. “God, look at you. You’re gorgeous.”

He blushes, a thank you making its way from him. You move away from him, farther up to the head of the bed, and lean against the bed frame. He knows instantly that you want him up against your chest. You reach towards the bedside table and reach into the drawer where you keep your special things. When you pull out a vibrator, Adam crawls towards you with morbid curiosity.

You’ve used toys on him before, but for some reason, not this one. He leans back against your chest and adjusts so you can take his cock out of his pajama pants. It slaps against his lower belly, wet and dripping. He’s always had such a pretty cock, all thick and hard and red. He’s got a lot of girth, enough to make it hard to close your fist around him.

The vibrator has a lot of power to it; you know this because you’ve used it on yourself many times. You hold Adam’s cock with one hand, and with another you switch it on. He gulps as he watches the toy in your hand.

“Okay?” You ask. He nods, pretty lashes fluttering shut as you watch his confirmation. His head tilts back and his mouth falls open in ecstasy when you press the vibrator to his aching tip.

“Oh, god.” He moans.

You move it down to his base, rubbing teasing circles into the soft skin there. Adam wraps his hands around your arms, desperate to have something to grab onto.

“So pretty like this,” you praise him. You move one of your hands up to his hair so you can rest it there. You kiss his neck gently. “My sweet Adam. Your cock is so hard, isn’t it? So hard for mommy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chants, whimpering. “It’s ‘s good.. love you so much.”

Your heart flutters, breathing in against his neck. He smells so nice that it almost makes your head tingle.

“I love you too, sweet boy.” You say. You move the vibrator down to his balls, and a moan rips through his throat. He sounds so heavenly that you can’t resist reaching down in between your thighs and rubbing your clit. When you pull away your slick coats your fingers, and you rub them up against the boy’s lips. He accepts them greedily, keening at the taste of you on his tongue. Crooking the digits, you make sure to keep them flush against Adam’s teeth; he loves having them in his mouth.

“Never gonna leave you again, honey. Gonna stay with you forever and ever, gonna make this fat cock cum… ”

And god, if that doesn’t make Adam’s balls draw up tight then he doesn’t know what will. Precious noises spew from his lips as his orgasm approaches him.

“Yes! Please, mommy, pleasepleaseplease, gonna cum—“

And although he didn’t last long this time, it doesn’t matter to you. Once his cock is dripping white, you set the vibrator aside. Your fingers scoop up some of his creamy spend, and with a lolling tongue you lick it all up. He tastes amazing, just perfect. Your perfect boy.

Sighing, he leans against you for a moment. He turns around, gives you a sweet little sultry smile, and returns to you the same perfect amount of pleasure. He does this by shoving his magnificent tongue in between your thighs. And skilled, the boy is— he loves to please. He thinks your pussy is the best he’s ever tasted or smelled in his entire life, and while he rubs his soft wet muscle against your clit his eyes roll back and small moans leave him. When you cum he makes sure you have two more orgasms— one from his fingers, another from his cock that had somehow gotten hard for you again.

And in the scene where his cock is inside you, you’re on top of him while he lets out little grunts and moans. You bounce up and down on him until your slick is white and wet, dripping down his thighs and onto the sheets. He had lit a cigarette somewhere between three fingers inside you and now, and his lips are wrapped around it while he watches you ride him. Holding it between two of his fingers, he exhales smoke at the same time that your teeth scrape along his nipple and your nails dig into his shoulders. He gasps— angelic. Then he tilts his head back, and cums.

That face is another one you’ll never forget— his pretty eyes shutting, mouth agape and cheeks ablaze. You don’t think you could ever leave this pretty thing ever again.

#adam stanheight #Adam stanheight x reader #Adam stanheight x fem! reader #Adam stanheight smut #leigh whannell #saw #saw 2004 #saw 2004 fanfic #Adam stanheight fanfic

712 notes · View notes

anchorandrope · 1 month

Text

if you ever open this website and see a post claiming you can't be actual friends with your mutuals i am happy to announce that the boyfriend of one of my best friends - aka a larrie i met here on tumblr years ago - proposed to her yesterday when she left my house after we went together to louis' show.

#i have no words to say how happy i am #we first met (in person) on may 21 2022 when louis came here for LTWT and even though we weren't in the same sector of the stadium #we were able to experience everything together before during and after #so hearing we made it and walls live (specially those) made me think of her during this show.... i already knew her bf was proposing #i looked at her during we made it and thought “man can't believe my ultimate larrie bestie is getting married.... we'are getting older baby”#but in a extremely happy way like WE MADE IT !!! way yk? after all this shit after all this fandom friendship we shared we always survived #we survived together #i hope you the best my dear - im not tagging you blog because i know you don't use it anymore and you don't want messages there #but you know who you are ofc <33 #fifi.txt #moments that could replace therapy

3 notes · View notes

amongemeraldclouds · 3 months

Text

better than revenge | chapter seven: blurring lines

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

Series trope: Fake dating

Chapter seven summary: Blink and the lines are blurred. How much longer can you keep lying to yourself? Enzo shares his advice. 867 words.

Warning: Fluff, no use of y/n, making out, angst.

♡ main masterlist

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Blink and the lines are blurred.

“I think I see Mattheo,” I whisper, pulling Enzo to the nearest wall. I reach my hands up his hair and kiss him, my senses electrified.

He wraps his arms around my waist, pushing me into the wall, leaving no space between us. He’s a contradiction of soft lips and hard muscles, tender touch and and fierce kisses.

He snakes his tongue in my mouth and I suck on it, gripping his hair to pull him close. I am pure want, I ache and —

I am Enzo’s fake girlfriend. I blink and let go of his hair. It takes him a second to catch up and untangle himself, consciously fixing his hair.

“I think he’s gone now,” I say, looking around. If I stopped lying to myself, I could admit I didn’t even see Mattheo at all.

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

“Come here,” Enzo says, settling into the couch. My heart thumps along with the party music’s erratic rhythm, matching the anticipation in Enzo’s eyes. “Mattheo hangs out in dark corners like these. He’ll see us soon enough.” I nod as he pulls me onto his lap and I straddle him.

He runs a hand through my hair then cradles the back of my neck to bring my lips to his and I wrap my arms around him. I revel in the familiarity of his kiss as he moves his hand along my legs, drawing out moans and goosebumps from me.

When he brings his mouth to my neck, I hum in approval as he glides his tongue against the vibration it creates. I scan the crowd for Mattheo but my thoughts are scattered when Enzo brings his hand to my ass, pressing me right where he needs me. “Is this okay?” He asks.

I breathe out a soft “yes,” which earns me a grunt from him and I gasp when he starts moving against me. I roll my hips against him, creating friction, needing more.

My head snaps when I hear laughter from a nearby group lost in their own conversation. Gathering the last few threads of my restraint, I lean my forehead against Enzo, catching my breath.

“We should probably leave it here,” I say. “Yeah,” he replies breathlessly.

I stand up and offer a hand to him. “Maybe we could use a walk to clear our head?”

“I’d like that.” Enzo smiles, the heat of the moment replaced with the ease we have around each other.

Hand in hand, we leave the party. From the corner of my eye, I spot Mattheo just entering.

“So this plan didn’t work,” I comment.

“Yeah, something like that,” he says, not quite referring to The Book, but I don’t dare linger on it for too long.

“I’m sorry,” I say, heat creeping up my cheeks. “I got carried away back there.”

“No, if anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I didn’t mean to take advantage.”

“Take advantage? Of me?” I ask incredulously. “Enzo Enzo Enzo,” I recite playfully. “You can’t be both the damsel in distress and the villain scheming against her ex-boyfriend. Which one do you think I am?”

“Okay,” he huffs, rolling his eyes at my dramatics. I may have had a firewhiskey or two. “Definitely not the damsel in distress.”

“Good boy,” I smirk. He stares at my lips for a second too long and then looks away, clearing his throat.

“I just mean,” he starts, expression turning serious. “I know you’re still hurting over Mattheo, what he did sucks and you didn’t deserve it. How are you feeling?”

Salazar, his earnest eyes pierce through my defenses.

“So, it’s my therapy time, huh?” I ask with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

“You know, I honestly thought revenge would feel better,” I sigh. “The more I think about why I’m so angry, I realize it’s because of how good things were and when I lost that, I lost part of myself too. I miss him and I’m so mad at myself for it. Why do I still care? Why does it matter? And I miss who I used to be,” I shake my head, fighting the tears that well up.

“I also think about losing the future I hoped to have with Mattheo, things I dreamed of. And now, I don’t know. I just feel lost,” I trail off, my eyes unfocused.

“I get that,” he says. “You know, I broke up with my girlfriend last year and I was messed up for a while. She’s a halfblood so it was never going to work. We tried though,” he says, recalling bittersweet memories.

“How did you get over it?” I ask. “Any advice?”

“Well, you know what the silver lining is to having your heart crushed and your future hopes dashed?”

I laugh at his summary, “there’s a silver lining?”

He gives me a kind smile, “you get to start over again. Dream new dreams, maybe even fall in love again.”

Enzo’s words hang in the air and for a moment, I dare to hope. Just a drop of courage in the sea of grief. It’s not much, but perhaps it’s enough.

“Yeah?” I muse.

“Yeah.”

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

♡ main masterlist

A/N: The series ends next week with chapter nine! Then one alternative chapter will be posted the following week. Thanks for being here. ♡

Taglist: @hoeforvinniehackerrr @i-think-you-are-gr8 @thecraziestcrayon @adreamingpendulum @themarauderswife7 @midsoulz @ultramarinetovelvet @val-writes @lafrone @daisiesformylove @mildly-delulu @allebasi05 @enha-stan @skb4000 @nat1221 @s0urw00lf @helpimhopelesslyinlove

#lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo x reader #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys #enzo berkshire #slytherin x reader #slytherin x slytherin #amongemeraldcloudswrites

146 notes · View notes

improbable-outset · 9 months

Text

📂 𝐑𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

↳ 📂 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Post-divorce, Exes-to-Lovers, Miguel being a bitch in the beginning but slowly softening up, mentions of flings.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In your complex web of your shared history, you and Miguel, your ex-husband and co-worker, struggle to communicate without clashing your professional and personal lives. However, an unexpected moment sparks a longing between the two of you. Despite the tension, a shared moment reveals unspoken desires and deep secrets.

You felt your mouth and throat becoming increasingly dry as each second passed and you couldn’t moisten it no matter how many times you swallowed. Your eyes have been burning since this morning from staring at the screen for so long but you had to get the reports done by the end of the day. You watched Miguel, your colleague and ex, with his sharp gaze fixated on the proposal titled ‘Enhanced Genetic Therapy for Tissue Regeneration’ you’ve just submitted to him, scrutinising every word written inside the file. His office and lab was located in the heart of Alchemax’s research facility, a place where genetic breakthroughs were made. But now the once-familiar corridors and labs became a bore to your awkward encounters and tense silence since your divorce. Despite the passing of time, working with Miguel had never grown any easier.

Time felt slower as you waited for him to finish reading. Minutes felt like hours and the silence that surrounded you was almost suffocating. Finally, just when you thought you weren't going to hold back any longer, he spoke up, voice controlled and assertive which cut through the stiffness in the room.

“You know this quality of work is inadequate from you.” He chided, dumping the file back in front of you dismissively. His words reverberated in your ribcage and made your skin crawl. If you weren’t in a professional setting right now, you would’ve thrown every curse word at him and telling him how you’ve worked tooth and nail all day on the reports only for him to have the audacity to just dismiss it like it was nothing. But instead you gulped, shoving the vulgar words down your throat and reached for the files on the desk. He still held his gaze as he waited for a response from you.

“Sorry…” you sighed, holding the files against your chest. “It'll be better next time.” Your tone had a hint of bitterness to it that you couldn’t hide from him. For a fleeting moment, you glimpsed something in his gaze - a flicker of what used to be. But it quickly disappeared and was replaced with his usual mask of professionalism. Miguel had always been assertive, even during your marriage. It was hard to tell if he was using that assertiveness as a reason to be firm with you now, or if he was still bitter about the divorce. With a brief nod, you turned and left the room. As you were reaching for the exit you caught a snarky remark from him, it was quiet but you still heard it perfectly.

“Yeah… sure it will.” He muttered before turning his back towards you, now completely blocking you off from his peripheral vision. The weight of the encounter still lingered as you made your way back to your own cubicle. To make matters worse, your work space was not too far from Miguel’s, so he had the perfect view of you and could watch you whenever he wanted. Even as you would have your back towards him, his piercing stare was still palpable, like blades on your bare skin. As you reached your workspace, you slumped down on your chair and set down the file on the desk. You turned on your computer monitor and opened up the documents again, your eyes stinging from the screen. As you focused on perfecting your papers, the familiar measured footsteps with confident stride drew closer towards your cubicle. You turned to see Miguel, leaning on the frame of your cubicle with two mugs in his hand.

“I got your coffee too.” He simply stated as he placed the mug on your desk.

“Huh? Oh…Thanks.” The gesture caught you off guard, especially when he was scolding you for your work just a few moments ago. Nevertheless you took the mug. You took a few sips from the hot beverage and felt the warmth down your throat. Drinking coffee on an empty stomach was probably not the best idea. You could feel the liquid settling in the lower pit of your stomach with the bitter taste on your tongue but that wasn’t your main concern. Your eyes were still sore and dry making you rub them repeatedly. It didn’t help that you were developing a headache too from the prolonged screen time. Miguel was still standing on the edge of your cubicle, watching as you tried to sooth your dry eyes.

“You okay?” He asked, the coldness in his tone wasn’t there this time.

“Fine-” you replied, your tone was abrupt as you turned back to your work again, hoping he’d get the hint. You weren’t in the mood to hear anymore criticism from him.

“You’re not fine…don’t lie to me.” He leaned on the doorway with his arms folded across his chest, his mug still in one of his hands. His eyes were now drawn to your monitor screen, reading over and analysing the open document.

“Maybe not. Why does it matter?” You mumbled, still not facing him as you talked and hoping he would leave you alone. You really didn’t want to deal with him in your work space especially with the throbbing headache you had. Even the fluorescent lighting felt like it was screaming at you.

“‘Why?’” He sighed and you knew he was pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance like he always did. “Because we work at the same place and see each other every day. Plus, what’s wrong with checking up on my colleagues?”

“I thought by now you would at least try to ignore my presence or pretend I’m not here.”

“Do you really think I could ignore you when you’re only a few cubicles away from me? C’mon now.”

“I could.” That was a damn lie. Everyday you could always feel his presence like a dark shadow of your history looming over you. The tangled mess of your past was impossible to escape. As much as you wanted to move on, it seemed that your past will forever haunt your professional lives.

“Do you know what your problem is?” You didn’t question him further but could hear him stepping fully inside you the cubicle now as he spoke. You knew he was going to answer his own question anyways. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, listening intently to your interaction and recognising the gravity of the situation. “You expect too much, especially from me.”

“Sorry?!” Your voice almost came out as a screech as you finally turned your chair to face him, you scrunch your face in both shock and disgust. It was ironic hearing that from him of all people. But if this was how he felt about you, you suspected that was the reason why he had ridiculously high expectations of you. His eyes fell on you again, amused by your sudden change of tone.

“You expect me to ignore you completely. You want me to forget about you and treat you with disdain and hatred.” He let out a dark chuckle and took a sip from his coffee before he spoke again. “That was never going to happen.” He looked back at the screen again but you held your gaze at him, now feeling a little perplexing. You never said anything about hatred - sure you ended your marriage on a bad note but there was no point hating each other. You rather treat each other as colleagues with no history between the two of you just to keep things civil.

“Not hatred, I never said anything about that. Just act like our marriage never happened.” You told him, making him chuckle again, his tone was starting to sound a little condescending and you were now realising how unreasonable your expectations were.

“I can’t just forget we were once married….we were together for five years.”

“Yeah and then we got a divorce after. Who’s fault was that?” The last sentence came out more hostile than you intended but you still hoped you got your message across.

“Mine.” He stated, his voice low and tinged with regret. It was a single syllable but it still shook the stillness in the air, like a boulder being dropped in a stagnant pond and sending ripples of emotions that melted away the tension in the room. “…mine for not being the man you deserved.” He continued.

“At least you’re self aware.” You said dismissively, hoping that was the end of the conversation. You didn’t want to revisit your broken marriage, especially with your headache throbbing more now.

“Mhm...doesn't make it hurt any less though.” He mumbled as he took another sip from his mug, hoping you didn’t hear.

“What was that?” He didn’t repeat himself but his silence and the falter in his expression behind the mug spoke volume.

Your eyes met his and for a moment, a rush of memories unraveled in your mind. You remembered the man you fell in love with, the one who captivated your heart and vowed to protect you till his last breath. But somewhere along the way of your marriage, his unwavering commitment to his job overshadowed your relationship. Your marriage was on its last legs before it crumbled. A pang of sadness washed over you as you wondered how things would’ve been different if he struck a better balance between his career and your relationship. That little bit of love you still harbored for him made you ache for what could have been.

“It does hurt sometimes, you know.” You admitted, averting your gaze away in shame.

“Hm?” He hummed inquisitively, tilting his head in curiosity at what you’ve just said before continuing. “It must be hard for you…”

There was a hint of regret that settled in your mind. It was minimal but just enough to make you wonder that, just maybe, you had been too hasty in making the final decision.

“Look, I know the main reason for our divorce was because I didn’t feel valued and you were more focused on work but…sometimes I feel like I was a little hard on you and I didn’t give you a chance to redeem yourself. Sorry that sounds pathetic…” As you spoke to admit your feeling, it felt like you were reopening a jaded door that was long closed.

“Do you want to hear something more pathetic?” Miguel asked, walking up to you and crouching down so he could look up at you, all while you remained seated on the chair. The change of position made your heart stutter and the air in the cubicle seemed to be amplified now. “The reason I was so focused on work was because I was scared to lose you. I thought if you saw who I truly was, you’d leave me. And focusing more on work, I thought it was a way of protecting myself from that.”

“Miggy…” your voice softened as you placed your hand on his shoulder, something you never thought you’d see yourself do again. You couldn’t help but notice the sudden change of his demeanor after you uttered that endearing nickname. For a moment, you saw the hint of nostalgia in his gaze that unlocked a hidden compartment in your shared history. “I married you for a reason. Before things were complicated between us, I was head over heels for you. I knew you meant well but I wish you told me about this earlier.” You said, making him sigh quietly and nodded in agreement.

“I’m sorry, you deserve better. The worst part is that I was so afraid to lose you yet I ended up losing you anyway because I was so focused on my damn work.” It was your turn to let out a somber sigh. “But…I do hope you’re doing well now. Are you?” He looked up at you, his brown eyes glistening with a hint of crimson under the lighting and waiting for your response.

“You could say that. But I do miss you before you were so engrossed in your work.” You chuckled as if that wasn’t obvious by now after you just admitted your deeper feelings.

“I miss us too. But I guessed you moved on…do you have anyone now?”

“Nothing but flings here and there.” You admitted sheepishly. You caught the slight twitch in Miguel’s jaw after hearing you say that. You could've sworn you saw specks of red in his iris overshadowed the warm brown hue. The sight sent a cold shiver up your spine. “They were just to get my mind off of things. But everytime I would end up missing your touch even more.” You added quickly. It wasn’t a lie. All those one-night stands were nothing other than stress relievers and it would never be as sensual and passionate as what you experienced with Miguel. You heard him chuckle in amusement.

“They couldn’t compare, huh?” He teased, a smirk tugged on his lips. “I’ve missed your touch too…when I think of you being with someone else, it hurts like hell.” There was pain wovened in his voice as he said that last sentence but you couldn’t blame him when you felt the same.

“Me too…I’d get a little jealous thinking that you’d treat another woman better, the way I desperately wanted to be treated.” You gulped. The image of Miguel making another woman happy made you chest clench even though you fully knew you shouldn’t feel like this when you were the one that initiated the divorce.

“Treat another woman better?” Miguel echoed in solemn. “You have no idea how much I regret treating you the way I did. It haunts me to this day.” From the look of his eyes, you knew he was being sincere and you could feel the raw emotions emanating from him. You remembered the moments you felt neglected and unappreciated but now after hearing Miguel’s confession, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had felt just as lost as you did.

“So… what do you want to do now?” You asked, the question hung in the air between the two of you. The query was loaded with possibilities that could redefine your future together.

“Now? Well…I really wish I knew but I know I don’t want to move on from this. I want to try again with you.” Miguel's gaze was now fixated on yours, desperately trying to read your face.

“How about we start with this.” You smiled, wheeling your chair a little closer towards him. “Are you free Friday night?” Miguel’s eyes blinked rapidly in surprise, clearly not expecting things to move this fast.

“Oh uhm yeah…wanna grab dinner maybe?” Your heart was pounding in your chest in euphoria and you couldn’t help the grin that grew on your lips.

“Yeah I’d love that.”

“Great, I’ll find us a place then and I’ll let you know the details.” Miguel beamed as he got up from his knees.

“Perfect. I can't wait.” You wheeled your chair back as you spoke.

“Me neither, hermosa...”

God, you missed that smile.

Reblog >> Like

368 notes · View notes

bitchlessdino · 1 year

Note

joshua hard thots

cockwarming him after rounds of fucking because he can't get enough of feeling your pussy wrapped around his cock

Pairing: Bf!joshua x gn!reader

Genre: tender smut, drabble

Word count: 1.0k+

tags: established relationship, yearning, love, cockwarming, assumed unprotected sex

author note: this probably wasn't what you were looking for anon but i was in such a soft sexy mood I wrote this and have no regrets. this felt like therapy and i love writing again.

You thought there were better things to do than be in bed all day, but Joshua thought otherwise. These free days weren’t rare but definitely getting sparse, placing more significance on quality time, even indoors. The thought vanishes thin into the air when your boyfriend develops the mood physically, wasting no time–in his words anyway–and captures your naked body in his, dipping his hips into you to create friction that he knew drove you crazy.

He could never get sick of you moaning his name. It was like the butter to his perfectly toasted slice of bread, a simple symphony of goodness that in no way could be replicated.

The supple skin that you spent minutes of an hour moisturizing wouldn’t go to waste, tasting as sweet on his tongue as good as it smelled. He was in love with every texture and bump, ingraining into every wrinkle of his brain for keepsake. He could never have enough and he’d prove it too.

“Mmh, yeah…taking me like that…that good?”

There isn’t a moment in time his cock inside your core isn’t pure heaven pushing in and out of you. He’s careful not to hurt you, caressing your hips, and cushioning your posterior in his large hands, while he’s rearranging your insides and with only thoughts of what would please you more. The matter that his dick doing a swell job of ebbing every twitch to your hips only boosts up his ego a smidge, he claims, knowing damn well it was quite the understatement.

“Josh…squeeze me harder…fuck me deeper…”

He also likes how you knew the things to say, ordering him around, teaching him, gratifying him with the heightened volumes of your whines, your screams, his name on your tongue, again. It’d go on for hours–days if he could–and it’s never enough, but god did it feel good to try.

At this point, it’s in the middle of the afternoon and the only reason either one of you had gotten up was to go to the restroom or fetch snacks and water. Neither of you were hungry, thirsty, or felt the need for a different kind of release, so you stayed back together in bed. Joshua has made his point of being the man for you by having you climax in his presence countless times in countless methods and for countless hours. It was time for rest, you both concluded. For now.

You’d nuzzle into his bare chest, feeling the sweat radiate off his incredulously toned body, while his arms–bulging and rippled in from arm day for three times a week every week–shifts around your frame, tugging you close to him. His soft smile lets out a satisfied hum, puckered lips meeting your eyebrows. “You look so tired.”

“Whose fault is that?” you tease with your eyes.

His laughter reminds you of cotton candy, sweet and plush if ever materialized. It brought you back to how addicted you were to such a treat as a child. Now its been replaced with its personified self, Joshua Jisoo Hong. He melted in your mouth better than any confectioners sugar.

“I should feel guilty but,” he shrugs his shoulders to make a show of it, “I don’t. As long as you keep moaning my name or look at me with those eyes–”

You bubble up in laughter, “What eyes–”

“I’ll never stop. Love me the way you do and I’ll make every opportunity together a core memory.”

You light-heartedly scoff, your canine digging at your bottom lip when your eyes fixate on him, feeding into every word, every look, every breathing pattern. Your hand comes up to cup his face and you reach his lips, slowly but surely proving to him you’d do the same. While he was best with words, you were best with action, which proved the physicality of the situation more significant.

When you first met, he was brave enough to be honest in confessing he had little plans to be ‘active’ in a romantic relationship, a sign saying turn away now before you fall into an endless pit of a sexless relationship with no soft landing. He was proven otherwise with you, someone beyond pure imagination. You were a breathing fantasy to him. He was willing to give up everything for you.

Now in the present, his tongue dances against yours, your naked body clutching him, and finally his easily replenished cock tickling against your thigh. He pushed his hand up against your lower back into his torso and your warmth hovers on top of the head of the length, your moisture sliding against the sensitivity and you whine until Joshua feels it in his throat. “Put your dick in me…”

“You just admitted to being tired,” he lightly retorts, already twitching and heart bouncing at the thought.

“I’ll just…keep it warm…please, my love…”

You are sounds of bliss no matter what the words are, but in this case, he couldn’t imagine loving you anymore with the need in your rasp and the ache between your legs.

“Alright,” he relinquishes, hands finding balls of your flesh and guiding you to hug his girth with your fluttering walls that knew no rest. His arms bring you closer–somehow possible–and knead into your skin, feeling the soothing touch on the tips of his digits until he’s plunging the trimmed nails until his DNA is a part of you.

“Mmh, yes,” you mewl, returning your attention to admire his beautiful face, looking at you and only you.

You may have made the request but he was relieved to enjoy it, having already missed the contracting squeeze of your walls pulsating around his needy cock. He always feared that if he had a taste of the best vessel for his cock he would have, he’d refuse to let it go–now wishing, hoping, praying you’re never pried away from his hands.

You grind down to the base of his cock, his full-length home inside you and you share a groan, giggles following after when you lock eyes. Both of you were stupidly besotted with one another, even cherishing the sweet tenderness of languid movement of both your hips not on the journey for the climax, but rather appreciating each other wordlessly, as you’ve always done.

Arousal never leaves either of you while together, finding euphoria even in the smallest things such as doing laundry together or dishes together. The thought of a moment like this replays in both of your minds. Hardly sentences, hardly words, just how you fit like a puzzle, metaphorically and literally.

#svthub #seventeen smut #joshua hong #seventeen #joshua hong smut #hong joshua smut #seventeen joshua #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #hong jisoo #hong jisoo smut

867 notes · View notes

chlorinecake · 7 months

Text

PART 3: GHOST FACE YANDERE imagine

ＢｌｏｏｄＯｎＩｃｅ | 얼음에 피 - a park sunghoon ff

⚡︎ cw: mentions of suicide and anxiety, bullying, violence involving guns and knives, character deaths, swearing, heavy petting/kissing, domestic abuse themes

⚡︎ genre: horror, psychological thriller, slow burn, angst

⚡︎ summary: new relationships blossom as you try to lead a normal life proceeding your abuser’s death, but what happens once a series of chilling phone calls disrupts your peace again?

⚡︎ wc: 15k (have fun with this hour long read lol) ~ previously...

❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ now and then

Since the fateful day of his death, Sunghoon Park was infamously known for the heinous acts he so gallantly committed out of love for his late little sister.

For the most part, the identity’s involved in Sunghoon’s amateur high school killings to his eventually more-experienced university slaughters were publicly announced.

Those victims being Cha Jun-Hwan, Nakamura Kazuha, Maddison Dupont, as well as her twin brother Maxwell, and a few unnamed others.

News outlets gave you, Sunghoon’s deadly obsession in this horror story, the nickname V, as you played the role of his only victor, escaping the torture fest you endured for three months while his other victims could barely last an hour against his signature weapon:

A Buck 120 Hunting Knife.

Memories of the events that Sunghoon sent you through roamed within the darkness behind your drowsy eyes, and it didn’t help that he practically haunted every other aspect of your waking life.

You smelt him after scrubbing yourself near clean of your own skin.

You could hear his daunting voice in stolen moments of silence.

You saw his face behind every masked murderer in your nightmares.

His oh-so-handsomely crafted face.

You could only imagine how many more people would exalt his name as a Dahmer or Bundy after seeing it.

That kind of thing always bothered you...seeing people on social media praise murderous monsters as if they were worthy of admiration.

In the beginning, you always thought that “V” was short for victim, and it honestly enabled you to feel like one.

That is, up until Dr. Lee, who you always just called Heeseung, stepped in to help you recover.

Or… more accurately, forget.

"How long are you gonna let Sunghoon control your life?" He'd ask you in half-whisper, to which you'd only shrug in response.

It wasn't like you didn't want to get over everything that happened.

Hell, if it were possible, you’d want a complete brain-wipe of Sunghoon, but Heeseung tried everything that was clinically moral to help you.

Your treatment started with cognitive behavioral strategies that helped you associate your fears with the strength it took for you to both withstand and overcome them in reality.

Next, you went through imagery rehearsal therapy to get over the nightmares.

Multiple times a week, Heeseung would ask you to describe your nightmares in detail, drawing pictures or writing out the most vivid scenes as needed. Then, you would write out a changed version of the dream, mentally rehearsing the new imagery until your nightmares were replaced by it.

In all of your illustrated revisions, Sunghoon’s face was completely blurred out in black crayon, because in an ideal world, you wouldn't want to remember that face ever again.

And so, you didn't.

It was a rare medical phenomenon that your treatment resulted in you fully forgetting the face of your humanoid fear, but you still weren't quite ready to live normally.

Despite three months of therapy having passed, Heeseung still wanted to work with you in recovery for at least another half-year.

And this is the exact path that led to you and Heeseung developing into something a little more than friends. Something like occasional dinner dates with equally occasional kissing afterward.

On the lips, of course. That's where he liked kissing you the most.

Currently you were marked at three weeks on a prescribed medication for PTSD and anxiety patients, and you can't remember when you felt better.

There were a few side effects to the medicine, like declined appetite and wonky periods, but you’d rather take that over a potentially worse lifestyle without the meds.

You were finally getting your life back, and with Sunghoon officially out of the picture and new friends by your side, you had nothing to worry about.

Right?

➠ monday

2:11pm

The ways of a Café Royale worker came naturally to you, which is why your boss (aka the café owner) put you in charge of training the new employee, Lee Hyun-Seo, but you just called her Leeseo.

You had been training the young girl for over two weeks, yet she still struggled with the entry level basics, like handling restaurant grade coffee makers or properly handling a broom.

Despite how much of a slow learner she was, you and the staff decided to keep little Leeseo around.

One of the reasons being that her parents were struggling financially, and the girl just wanted to lend a hand with some of their bills.

The other reason was that Leeseo had a way of charming people, staff and costumers included—like a vessel of sunshine, she almost always had a smile on her face, and you commended her for that given everything she was going through at home.

“I can help!” Leeseo beamed, leaping to take the second tray of food and drinks you carried.

“Thanks, kiddo,” you chirped, finally using two hands to hold the tray.

“Ugh, what must I do for you to stop calling me that?” She whined, placing the steaming hot mugs on a costumer's table.

“Focus,” you said, pointing out how she nearly spilled a cup of black tea on someone’s lap.

You beelined back to the front counter, grabbing the plate of assorted sandwiches that just came out. “That’s for table 16,” Yunjin said, “and this is for the hottie at 23,” she continued, handing you a folded napkin.

“What, did he ask for math help?” You teased, observing her phone number jotted down in blue ink on the piece of paper.

“Just give it to him, alright?” She pleaded with frustration, turning back around to prepare the upcoming orders.

You hit up table 16 first before making your way toward table 23, where Nate was sitting. He was the same guy with dyed silver hair you met a few weeks ago, and since then, he had become a regular costumer at Café Royale.

The most you knew about him was that he enjoyed writing creatively, and was working on a piece to enter for a contest. He was also very passionate about his afternoon dose of caffeine, which you find rather odd at best…

You’d give it to Nate that he was a particularly attractive guy, but not worth doing anything unprofessional like… I don’t know, passing a customer your phone number at work?

“Good afternoon, Nate,” you smiled, handing him the napkin to which he immediately noticed its inky etchings.

“Damn, now I’m offended that you think I’m single,” he joked, eyes following the series of numbers on the paper.

“Trust me, I’m not your secret admirer,” you replied, pulling out your note pad to write, “What can I get for you today?”

“Oh, I had something at home. I just like writing here sometimes,” he smiled, closing his computer.

“Well, it must be something juicy if you won’t even let me see it.”

“Ugh, it’s in draft form right now! Give me a few days and I’ll be happy to show yo—“

“Focus, ____,” Leeseo interrupted as she walked by, showing off the $50 tip she just nabbed from table 16.

You sighed, both at Leeseo’s petty remark, your loss on 50 bucks, and Nate’s ability to enthrall your attention.

“Good luck editing,” you smiled, closing your notepad before getting back to work.

Nate had become a usual costumer ever since the first day you met about three months after you started working here.

You two grew particularly close, especially once he started staying back at the cafe during your night shifts to walk you to your car.

Whenever the sun set a few hours before your shift ended, he noticed how nervous you looked... staring outside the French café windows as if the starry night whispered threats.

If it weren’t for Heeseung, you wouldn’t even have a personal car to get you from point A to point B. He gave it to you as a gift once you started working.

He was able to pick you up for the first week of your job, but after that, he couldn’t make the commitment anymore given his own chaotic work schedule.

So, in typical Heeseung fashion, he bought you a whole freaking car, and he wouldn’t let you refuse his offer under any circumstances.

“Just take the damn keys, ____,” he’d chuckle, watching as you shyly did just that, walking over to the vehicle and taking your first spin.

Back to Nate though, he had a funny way of telling you “bye” on nights like those.

"Watch your back," he'd say, waving with arguably the most attractive smirk you've ever seen as you’d pull out of the driveway and head home safely.

Of course, you'd never admit that first part to Heeseung.

You read the order note that Yunjin just wrote from the last costumer: Two iced vanilla lattes with four mini dessert pops. As a waiter, you already expected that you’d do a lot more floor work than just placing food and drinks on a table here and there, so you took it upon yourself to help Yunjin out by fixing this order.

“Thank you BIG TIME,” Yunjin exclaimed, wiping off the counter near the register.

“Of course, you’ve stirred enough drinks for the both of us.”

“Pfft, I was talking about passing Nate my number, Strawberry Shortcake. Do you think he’ll actually call back?”

“Hmm, probably not… I think he said something about having a girlfriend already?”

“Liar! You berries and cream filled liar,” Yunjin teased, tossing a handful of blueberries at you.

“That doesn’t sound very PG,” you giggled back to her, eating one of the blueberries that landed on your workspace.

"Hey," Leeseo said shyly, tapping you on the shoulder, “I’m gonna step out for a bit, if that’s okay.”

“Mhm, you can’t fool me, iPad kid. Now focus, remember?”

“I am focusing, ____… Its just some girls came in from my school and I really don’t want them to mess with me at my job.”

You handed Leeseo a pair of tongs to grab the cake pops you needed, “I didn’t see any girls, Leeseo.”

The metal tongs clinked against the glass cake pop case, “I told you about them last week, ____… plus, girls like them are pretty hard to miss,” she whispered, pointing her head in their direction.

Pretty hard to miss? Yes, but basic modern day teenagers nonetheless? Double yes.

You tried not to make your peeking look so obvious, so you finished up the lattes and brought them to Leeseo’s classmates to get a closer look.

From their conversation, you could tell the two girls were talking crap about someone, thanks to stream of swear words that flew from their lip-sticked mouths. You placed their order down on the table, but they ignored you, daring to raise their voices even louder so you couldn’t get a “You’re welcome” in.

Yikes, you thought to yourself, thinking about the way your high school self, Maddison, and Kaz used to bash Wonyoung while she was in the same room.

“Aiko’s the short one with the eyeliner, and Maeve's the taller one with pink hair. Don’t let their looks fool you though… Aiko’s the real monster.” You remembered Leeseo telling you when you drove her home after training one time.

That was the same day Leeseo mixed up more than four orders and accidentally sweared in front of a little kid. He asked her for a breakfast croissant to which she replied, “Sorry, but you’re shit out of luck bud, we just ran out.”

Harmless mistake, I know, but the kid’s mother wasn’t too forgiving about it.

“Those girls from my school have been blowing up my phone with hate messages since I left school today… I swear they have nothing better to do with themselves…”

“And does that explain why you said “shit” to a little kid,” you asked.

“N-no, but, they’ve got my head in a bad place… My focus is probably ruined for the rest of the day now,” she sighed, washing the chocolate from her hands before sitting on the kitchen floor.

Leeseo found herself in the same place today, sitting on the kitchen floor as you brought Aiko and Maeve their cake pops before joining Leeseo on the ground.

“I knew a girl just like you when I was in high school,” you began, voice almost falling to a whisper, “Much like those girls out there, me and my friends treated people terribly, especially this one person.”

“So then what happened?” Leeseo asked, looking at you, even though your gaze fell to your lap, stuck in a daydream.

Memories that part of you wished you could forget resurfaced in your mind. You swallowed the lump in your throat, tightening your grip around nothing before answering.

“She killed herself.”

Leeseo’s eyes widened a little at your words, her chest raising differently as her breathing style changed.

You could tell she was shocked, as would anyone who heard such a thing.

She remained quiet as if waiting for you to say something else, and so you did.

“Hey, if you’d feel better hiding in the kitchen until they leave, you can.”

She looked up and smiled. “Thanks, ____!” She beamed, reaching in her pocket for her smartphone.

“Nuh uh, you’re still on shift, buddy, now help Yunjin out with the dishes!” You chuckled, heading to the front to deliver more orders.

Yunjin was the only other person you had told about Wonyoung and everything else.

It wasn’t intentional, but after having one to many egg nog shots at a Café Royale employee's function, you confessed as she drove you home.

You had grown comfortable with Yunjin knowing that dark part of your past, and even now with Leeseo, given that you’d always viewed her like a little sister.

Beep, beep.

It was a reminder on your phone that you'd set yesterday, saying that you had to meet with Heeseung at his place around 5pm.

Maybe the girls won't notice if I slip out for the day, you mischievously thought to yourself, hanging your work apron over the wall coat hook before sneaking out of the café undetected.

7:03pm

Traffic had you running late to Heeseung's place, but he wasn't to upset about it, given that he got held back at work an extra hour to sort files in his office. Needless to say, your dinner "date" ended up starting a little later than desired.

Even so, Heeseung made an effort to keep the night special, but it seemed as though your mind was in a different place at the time.

“You’ve barely touched your pasta,” Heeseung nudged, thinking of any way to start a conversation amidst the awkward silence.

“Oh, sorry! Yunjin brought me a coffee so my appetite’s a bit mild.”

“That’s okay, I’m really just trying to get you to say something,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his lovesick eyes. He just stared down at his plate, twirling the saucy red noodles around his fork.

“Uhm… well, how was work?” You tried, cringing at yourself.

Heeeseung put his fork down, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin, “____, why’re you acting like a stranger all of a sudden? You’re always comfortable talking to me. Is it because I was late today?”

Your gaze fell to his lap where he sat with parted legs. Shit, stop peeking, you internally scolded yourself.

You're not sure what made you feel this way tonight, but your mind was on everything else but the pasta in front of you.

Was it the way he decided to cuff his sleeves today? No, he always wore his shirts like that. Maybe it was the way he occasionally tugged at the tie around his neck, or the little breaths he'd let out each time you crossed and uncrossed your legs, or the smirk he'd flash whenever you failed to hold eye contact with him for longer than five seconds.

“So I see you’d rather daydream about my dick than have a simple conversation with me,” He said, voice sounding offended yet prideful at the same time.

You shook your head at his words, biting your lip to keep in the embarrassed laugh that dared to slip past your mouth, “Sure, but you don’t have to say it like that.”

“Why not? I can tell you liked it,” He pressed, talking a sip of the white grape champagne in his wine glass, coating his peachy lips.

In all honesty, you've been sexually attracted to Heeseung since you first met him during one of the darkest stages of your life, and you couldn't help but feel bad about it.

Of course you appreciated him for other reasons, but at the end of the day, he’s your crush and mental health care provider all at once. You dreaded the idea of adding “fuck buddy” to that mix, and frankly, you weren’t sure you'd be able to handle it, despite already testing that boundary a few months ago at his freaking job of all places.

“There are just times when I feel like what you said might be true,” you answered, finally feeling comfortable enough to look him in the face.

“Times where you'd rather daydream about my dick than talk to me?”

“Heeseung!!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop,” He chuckled, his contagious bright smile making you laugh a little yourself, "So what is it?... That happens in your daydreams, I mean," he went on.

"In detail or the safe for work version?" You giggled again, honestly trying not to engage in his flirting for the sake of your own existence.

"I never noticed how pretty your laugh is when you're nervous and trying to hide it," he smiled, tilting his head at you.

"Oh and where'd you find that one, in a Rizzler's 101 Guide?" You teased, nudging his knee with yours.

"No, I really mean it," he smiled again, getting up from his seat and meeting you on the couch.

Gently cupping your face in his hands, he pulled you in for a kiss, which quickly led to a full blown make out session. You don't think you've ever felt hornier while kissing someone as you let out sounds you didn't even know you could make.

Heeseung's hand got lost under your shirt while yours were gripping at his neck, pulling him impossibly close to you. Your legs were hooked around his waist as he softly grinded against you, both of you feeling light headed just from the simple touches and sensations.

You wondered what it’d be like to go all the way, so you took off your top, and he followed after you, kissing down your neck as you clenched around nothing.

The warmth of his breath against your cold skin sent shivers down your spine, your fingers combing through his hair as if trying to calm his growing desire for you.

The little nips he left on your neck reminded you of the way Sunghoon used to wake you up from naps, but you tried to stay in the moment.

Heeseung held your waist with one hand while he slipped past your panties with the other, looking at your face for some kind of cue before touching you any further.

You let out a whine, feeling his fingertip barely graze your sweet spot before he started to rub it in circles.

“I love the little sounds you make for me,” he whispered, inserting two fingers with ease given how wet you were.

The words of Sunghoon echoed in the back of your mind, which was almost worse than actually seeing his face. As much as you wanted this moment with Heeseung, your mind was letting your past get in the way of it.

You felt your heart beat increase with each thrust of Heeseung’s fingers, his pouty lips latched to your skin as if he were a leech.

It all felt so good, but every time Sunghoon crossed your mind, you felt like screaming.

You tried keeping your eyes open so your mind couldn’t deceive you with images, but a certain thought resurfaced when you felt Heeseung pulling down your pants.

I’ll show you just how deranged I am.

“Stop! Stop it! G-get away from me!” You thrashed beneath Heeseung, causing him to jerk away immediately. He stared back at your shaking body in shock, trying to figure out what just happened and why.

“_-____, are...are you okay?” He asked sincerely, looking into your now teary eyes.

Your chest kept heaving as a mix of scary emotions started to build up at your core. “I’m sorry, Heeseung,” you sniffled, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just... I can’t do this.”

“W-what do you mean? Can’t do what?” He asked again, putting his shirt back on and passing you yours.

“The touching stuff... I just-" you sighed, preparing yourself for his response, “I couldn't stop thinking about him.”

Heeseung knew exactly who you meant, despite you not being able to say his name.

“I understand what you’ve been through, ____, but I hate that it has to affect us even now. I thought you said you got over all that...”

You scoffed at his words, “Aren’t you the doctor here? That’s how trauma works, I’m afraid.”

You reached for your own top, snaking your head through the hole and fixing yourself on the couch.

He stared back at the pasta that now set awkwardly on the coffee table before you. As if your words went through one ear and out the other, he went on to ask, “Is there someone else?”

“What? No, Heeseung, I would never do that to you.”

“I get that, but would it really be all that bad? It’s not like we’re officially in a relationship.”

“Heeseung—”

“I know we’ve been through a lot together, and if you’re not ready for this kind of thing, I’ll move on, love.”

“Just because I’m not ready to be intimate with you?”

It was strange how just a few moments ago you were giggling only to now be turning cheeks at each other. The room fell silent for a few moments before Heeseung got up from his seat and handed you your purse, “You can go now.”

You blinked in disbelief, “You're kidding, right?”

“No. I want you out of here for the night. You need some space.”

“Are you sure this is about what I need?” You asked as he walked you to the door.

“Thanks for coming over. Have a good night, ____.” He whispered, not meeting your face before he closed the door behind you.

You felt confused as you stood outside his apartment, feet practically glued to his "Welcome In" doormat.

The irony, you thought to yourself.

You didn't wanna think about if there was something you could've said or done to change the way things went tonight.

Another oddity was that even though Heeseung was persistent on you continuing with therapy because he knew you weren't ready, he somehow expected you to at least trust him in that moment.

Maybe it was time for you to accept the fact that you'd never be normal... not after Sunghoon.

8:22pm

You went straight home after your argument with Heeseung, that is, if you could even call it that.

By now, you were very aware that guilt was one of your strongest emotions, so you felt the need to call Heeseung and leave things on a more positive note.

Or perhaps it was the only way you could try killing off the awkwardness burning in your veins.

Kicking your shoes off, you didn't bother to wash up before plopping your body on the couch, crossing your feet and typing in your phone password.

You went to your "Favorite" contacts list and pressed Heeseung's name, staring at the call option for a few moments before finally clicking it.

Boop... the dial tone rang.

Boop... the sound lingered a few more times before going to the voicemail option.

Ouch.

You instead opted to leave a voice message, rambling some simple (and apologetic) nonsense and pressing send.

He must've read it because three, hopeful dots appeared as you awaited his response... that never came.

Ring, ring, ring, your phone blared, an unknown caller daring to interrupt your silly love affair.

"Ugh," you sighed, hanging up before the number called again.

Ring, ring, ring.

We can all take a guess what your mind immediately thought of at the familiarly ominous ringtone.

Not wanting to feed into your own cowardice, you answered the call, hoping that it would somehow grant you a fleeting feeling of control.

"Long time no see, ____," the raspy voice slithered from the other end of the phone, laced with a craving for mischief.

You were a bit startled by the caller using your name.

"Sorry, but you're a little late with the Halloween pranks. Try again next year-"

"I was thinking, we should play a game."

Oh dear, not this shit again, you thought to yourself.

"Uh, I think you've got the movies mixed up, buddy. That line's from Saw," you replied, fighting back the giggle that danced in your throat.

The old you would've been trembling from a call such as this, but given the circumstances, you were glad for anything that would distract from your cringey thoughts of Heeseung.

"Hmm, I see you're still the scary movie type?" The voice snickered.

"Not at the moment. Right now, I'm more interested in this game of yours. Though, if it involves stripping, you can count me out early."

"Heheheh, don't worry. There's no stripping this time. I've learned from experience that you're not down for that kind of thing. On-top-of-the-clothes fun was always your favorite."

Your jaw clenched at his statement, making you curious to know who was behind the call this time, but you continued to play along.

"Okay, I'm listening."

"Perfect. It's called guess who's gonna get skewered like a fucking pig?"

"Whoo, we're jumping straight into the extremes, huh?"

"Absolutely! Extreme is my favorite," the voice went on, but you were now (re)distracted by thoughts of Heeseung, dumbly staring at the three dots on your phone screen that had yet to dissolve into a message.

"Hey, you still there?"

"Oop- Sorry... you must be boring me, I guess," you teased.

"You guess what?"

"Oh, I forgot we were playing a game," you chirped, sitting up straight now as if the caller was right in front of you, "Hmm, do I get any hints?"

"No, you're smart enough to guess without any."

"Fine," you exhaled, assuming that the answer was yourself. Preparing to perform, you cleared your throat in case you had to fake-cry, "My guess is some guy who probably watched the Scream movies one too many times."

"Well well well. Has my life been threatened by the very person who failed to take it?"

"W-what did you just say?"

"Aww, you almost sound excited about that. Do you miss me, princess?"

"Uhh, I don't know what you're talking about," your voice cracked at the dreadful nickname, a fear you haven't felt in months rumbling in your chest.

"Do you miss the way I made you feel?"

"I hope this isn't your idea of a funny prank, because the humor died after you asked about scary movies."

"You have a strange obsession with death, don't you ____? Answer me this: when was the last time you visited my grave? Or my sister's grave?"

"You're sick," you spat, raising your voice a little louder than intended.

"Mhm. That just means we have a lot more in common than you thought. Anyways, should I knock or just carve my way in-"

Boop, boop.

You cut the call, immediately blocking the number and running to your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

As if it were a shield, you hopped in your bed, tucking the covers over your head and squeezing your eyes shut.

Albeit, you were now well distracted from any thoughts of Heeseung, but unfortunately, something far more daunting than a pasta party gone wrong took its place.

➠ tuesday

9:15am

You had work at the café early the next morning, and didn't get much sleep after that unexpected call. To no surprise, Heeseung never texted you back, but again, that's not really something you were worried about at the time.

Nate was already at the café when you got there, earlier than his usual time, but you took it upon yourself to serve him before Yunjin could step in to play the role of her own cupid.

"Morning, Nate! Don't tell me you already had something before you came here," you teased.

"Hey, and no, not this time heheheh."

That laugh... were you being paranoid?

"I'll have a black coffee... and maybe something sweet if you wanna surprise me," he smiled before noticing that you looked a little off, "Hey, is everything alright? You don't look too good."

You shifted in your stance, trying to stay in character of the happy waitress he knew you to be, "Oh- yeah, I just didn't get much rest last night. Who knew caffeine was so anti-sleep?"

Ding.

The café door bell rang as a trio of elderly ladies walked in... the same ones Yunjin accused of Karenism after you abandoned ship yesterday.

You didn't want her to have to serve them so you turned in Nate's order so you could take their's.

Leeseo wasn't in work today because she had school, so some guy (who's name you could barely remember) took her place, and boy was he a lifesaver in the kitchen.

He had the older ladies and Nate's order made within minutes, handing you the trays in each hand as Yunjin busied herself doing who knows what.

"Here’s your black coffee and a tiramisu square,” you chirped, placing the mug and plate beside his laptop, “I know you’ve tried this one before, but I really think it suits you.”

“Aww, thanks, ____,” he pouted playfully, “How can I ever repay you for such kind deeds?”

Your gaze immediately fell to Nate’s delicate fingers that rested idly near his keyboard.

“Your story. I wanna see it,” you said plainly, tucking the serving tray under your arm and peeking over his shoulder.

“You’re joking,” he said, slightly closing his computer.

“Aww, c’mon! I’ve been dying to read it! If you make me wait any longer I might literally combust!”

“Fine, okay, I’ll show you,” he sighed, playfully rolling his eyes, “but only because I wouldn’t want anyone to clean up your gory remains.”

He moved his coffee out of the way to prevent any accidents, slowly lifting his computer back up for you to see, “Promise you won’t judge me? Like I said, it’s in draft form—”

“I promise, Nate, now stop stalling,” you giggled, squinting your eyes at the tiny words that filled the screen.

You caught sight of the words ghost face, suicide, and revenge almost immediately, your body language clearly exhibiting how you felt on the inside.

“Is it really that bad,” the platinum haired boy asked with furrowed brows, taking in your now disgusted demeanor.

“I… this is unbelievable…”

“Just give it a chance, ____! Trust me, the plot gets better in the next chapter, when the main character finally realizes that the guy behind the mask was the party host all along—”

"What are you, some kind of sick freak?” You interrupted him, careful not to show your anger as you closed his computer shut.

“I… I’m sorry, what?”

“How much do you know?" You went on, slightly raising your voice.

“____, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he almost laughed, trying to shake off how nervous you were making him feel.

“You’re the pervert who called me last night, aren’t you?”

“____, please calm down, you’re scaring me,” he pleaded, standing up from his seat and placing his hands on your shoulders.

Everything in you wanted to push him away, but once the glares from the surrounding costumers and Yunjin entered your field of vision, you simply backed away, swallowing the anger that bubbled within you.

You reached to take off your apron to which Yunjin immediately scolded you, “Nuh uh, you’re not getting away that easily… Get over here, now.”

Letting out a sigh, you looked at Nate with both confusion and shame, walking behind the café counter to where Yunjin was standing.

“What was that all about?” She asked, shaking your shoulder, “Huh? You’re making me look bad in front of my crush, y’know?”

“I got a call last night. A ghost face call,” you whispered, fighting back the tears meddling with your eyes, “It could’ve been a prank, but it seemed so real.”

She took your hand, guiding you into the kitchen where prying eyes and nosey ears couldn’t interfere.

“And you think it was Nate?”

“He’s writing an entire story about it, Jinnie! I can’t be crazy for drawing that conclusion!”

“And you’re not crazy… probably just a little hangry… and sleep deprived,” she smiled, handing you a cookie you didn’t even realize she was holding til now, “Eat it.”

“B-but the chocolate’s all melted.”

“Eat it, ____,” she giggled, shoving the cookie past your lips and into your mouth.

“Ahh, what the heck!”

“Hey, don’t talk with your mouth full,” she grinned, dusting the cookie crumbs on her apron, “now hurry up and finish that… we’ve got a lot more costumers to serve before our shifts ends."

12:16pm

Later that day, you somehow found the balls to apologize to Nate for blowing up on him. You didn’t expect him to be so forgiving, especially considering that you literally accused him of harassing you.

During the brief apology, you explained to him everything you went through in the past, apologizing again for trauma dumping on him. But, like always, he was very understanding, even laughing it off by saying he’s grown used to people having dramatic responses to his art.

“So, you’re V?” He asked, walking beside you as you made your way back to work from your lunch break.

“I’m what?”

“You know, V. Sunghoon’s survivor.”

You usually didn’t like your name being used synonymously with Sunghoon’s, but this time, you didn’t mind as much. Maybe that had something to do with Nate’s undeniable charm.

“Yeah, I-I guess I am,” you half-smiled, walking a bit slower as you weren’t quite ready to leave his side, “Why were you so fascinated by that story, anyway?”

He hummed in thought, looking at the sky before answering, “I’ve got a pretty messed up past, myself, y’know? I hate that certain things turned out the way the did, but it helped to shape me into who I am today.”

“And who’s that, if you don’t mind me asking. Who are you?”

He smiled, licking his teeth at how catty your voice sounded, “I’m an attractive guy with an ugly little kid who’s both obsessed and afraid of death hiding behind it all.”

“Explain that for me.”

“Only if you’re ready,” he said, a silence meddling between you two before you nodded, cueing for him to continue.

“When I was younger, some guys broke into my parents house while my mom and I were solving a puzzle in the kitchen. She hid me in the cabinet, but didn’t have enough time to hide herself before the burglars shot her straight in the chest. That’s just the short version, but part of me hasn’t been the same since then,” he paused, taking in a breath before continuing.

“I know she’d want me to lead a normal life after everything that happened, but I’m still attached to the darkness I saw. It’s a part of me now.”

You were trying not to show it on your face, but you weren’t expecting a guy like Nate to have gone through so much. He handled his pain a lot better than you ever could, and you both envied and admired him for it.

“Sorry, I know that was a lot to take in,” he sighed, sticking his hands in his pocket.

“Nate, I literally just told you that a serial killer held me captive for months while I carried his baby. You’re good,” you chuckled, nudging him on the shoulder.

You two bonded on other things like your experiences with therapy, sharing with him the medication you’d been taking to help with your anxiety.

“I don’t know, ____. I took that same stuff when I was a kid and it fucked me up bad… I’m sure you’ve been having adverse symptoms from it, right?” he frowned, walking up to the café entry with your hand in his.

Ding.

The bell jingled behind you, gracing both your senses with sweet aromas.

“Yeah, actually… I have.”

“So. You can choose to follow doctors orders or take my advice instead. The choice is yours,” he shrugged, letting go of your hand at the sight of Yunjin coming from around the counter.

She wasn’t oblivious to you two holding hands, but it didn’t bother her much anyways.

“Welcome back, strangers. I see you’re both on good terms now? No more witch hunts?”

“No more witch hunts,” Nate confirmed with a smirk, showcasing the faint dimple on one of his cheeks.

➠ wednesday

6:49am

Screech.

The sound of iceskates gliding across a frosty arena filled your ears.

The audience of chilly bodies was silent, eyes gawking in awe at the sight of the skilled dancer practically controlling gravity itself.

It was astounding how skilled this faceless skater was.

You were very much aware that you were currently in a dream, thanks to the mere fact that you’d never actually attend a figure skating show in real life.

Not that you had something against the sport…you just simply couldn’t handle the thoughts that came with it anymore.

Knock, knock, knock.

And in typical dream fashion, you teleported to an entirely different space within seconds, in this case, your apartment kitchen.

Pacing to the front door, you slung it open to reveal a quaint cardboard package lying on the ground.

You picked up the box, walking over to the kitchen counter before placing it down and grabbing a knife to cut through the packaging tape.

Flipping over the cardboard flabs, you were met with the sight of a tiny red sequined dress and a devil horned headband tucked neatly beside it.

Kazuha, you instantly thought to yourself.

“Remember this?” A gentle voice chirped, pulling you from your thoughts.

You whipped your head to see none other than a figment of the late Wonyoung. Even after all your treatment, you could never forget how beautiful she was… even your dream managed to capture the ethereal essence of her beauty.

She held a blue pregnancy test kit in her hand, dressed in the same school uniform she’d always wear, her pink lace socks resting at her dainty ankles.

“Wonyoung?” You asked in shock.

“The one and only. My brother did a good job of making sure you never forgot about me,” she said with a pout, making your own mood fall.

“I could never forget you, Wonnie. No matter how desperately I might’ve tried to.”

She smiled at your words, taking a few steps closer to you, “I haven’t been called that in a while… anyways, the pack said it only came with one test, but it gave me two instead. Trust me when I say you might need this later.”

You nodded in response, putting the test in your kitchen cabinet and closing the box with Kazuha’s costume in it.

“Hey, not so fast!! I wanted to try that on, y’know?

“Kaz!” You nearly yelped, running into her arms and giving her a hug.

“Okay okay, I missed you too, ____, but chill out with the PDA. I have a strict no-homo rule,” she chuckled, kissing you on the cheek anyways.

“Sooo you and Wonyoung get along now?”

“Surprisingly, yes. When you’re dead, I guess grudges just matter less to you. It’s easier to forgive than to hang on to that kind of pain,” she sighed, propping herself on the counter.

“Speaking of the dead,” you began curiously, “how is he? Sunghoon, I mean….”

The light presence in the room suddenly faltered at your mentioning of his name, Kazuha and Wonyoung exchanging troubled looks to each other before meeting your frame with forlorn eyes.

“W-what is it? Did something happen?” You pressed, sensing the dark cloud that slowly engulfed the three of you in the now dull kitchen space.

Wonyoung fidgeted with the beaded bracelet on her wrist before answering you with a shaky breath.

“Sunghoon isn’t here with us.”

Beep, beep, beep.

Awaking from your dream as if struck by lightening, you reached out a hand at the sound of your vibrating phone rumbling against your nightstand, revealing Heeseung’s contact flashing on your screen.

It was now 7 o’clock on the dot.

“Heeseung?” You asked in a groggy voice, rubbing your eyes from how brightly the sun shone from your bedroom window.

“Hi, I’m standing outside your door right now. Are you home? I knocked over ten minutes ago—”

Boop, boop.

You abruptly cut the call, putting on a pair of shorts (since you slept only in your panties), as you ran to answer the door.

Heeseung was standing there in a very nice outfit, but your current emotions weren’t interested in the slightest.

You practically leaped on him, shaking his shoulders with crazy eyes as you spit out words you yourself could hardly keep up with.

“Sunghoon!! H-he’s- He’s still alive, Heeseung! He never died! That… ugh, that means he's still out there! He's wants me dead, Heeseung! That explains everything!!"

“____, slow down. I can hardly understand a word you’re saying,” he chuckled, cupping your face in his hands, “breathe for me, okay?”

“I- I am breathing, Heeseung,” you sighed, anxiety pumping stronger in your veins than oxygen.

“I know,” he smiled, kissing you on the nose, “can I come in so you can tell me everything?”

You let him inside, taking a seat on your living room couch as he helped himself to fixing both of you a cup of coffee as if you were his guest.

“It was a dream, but… it all felt so real.”

“And I get that, but you know you’re not supposed to entertain those sorts of thoughts,” he half frowned, placing the warm mugs on the coffee table before you, “Now be honest with me, did you want to stay in the dream? Did part of you maybe want to think about Sunghoon?”

“Heeseung-“

“You know I have to ask these questions, ____. What kind of answers were you looking for?”

He peered into your eyes as if searching you for the words you were too afraid to say.

That’s when your phone blared with a text from Yunjin.

“Oh, crap!” you pouted, swiping the message on your phone, “I’ve gotta get ready for work in a few minutes…”

Heeseung tried to maintain his cool demeanor, “Well, can we at least finish our coffee first before you abandon me?”

“Of course, Hee,” you smiled, taking a sip of the milky beverage, “what were you doing here so early, anyway?”

He almost appeared to be caught off guard by your question, but you brushed off the suspicion, blaming it on the dream you’d just had.

“Oh- don’t worry about that now. Let’s just enjoy this moment before you go off to serve the fellow coffee-holics in our city.”

Yes, you and Heeseung often behaved as if you were in a seriously committed relationship, but at the end of the day, there was no label between you two.

A few more minutes passed, and your mugs were empty.

“Thanks for stopping by, Heeseung, but I’ve gotta get ready,” you smiled, walking him to your front door.

“You’re welcome, ____. And by the way, I saw your message. I really appreciate you being mature about everything, and I hope that you forgive me for the way I acted,” he said as you slowly closed the door in front of him, beelining to your bathroom to brush away your coffee breath.

2:47pm

Café Royale was closing early for the day as inspections were scheduled during your afternoon shift, so your entire team had the rest of the day off.

You decided to stay back to do some last-minute tidying before you’d leave.

All there was left to do was throw out the table flower water and leave a note for the inspectors.

That’s when you heard a thud against the back wall of the kitchen, high-pitched pleas falling from a familiar voice.

Leeseo.

You dropped the the flower vase, not caring that it shattered on the ground as you made a run toward the door, following the ruckus outside.

On the side of the bakery, you found the two girls from the restaurant pinning Leeseo against the wall while a girl you didn’t quite recognize recorded the ordeal.

Leeseo’s eyes were squeezed shut as the girl brought the camera closer to her face, “Don’t act all shy now, slut. We know how much you like being on camera,” Maeve cackled.

The part of you that would usually freeze in moments like this had died with Wonyoung.

You marched towards the girl recording, snatching the phone from her hand before launching it into the nearby parking lot.

“What the fuck,” she exclaimed before cowardly backing away. You yanked Aiko away from Leeseo, grabbing her face in your hand.

The two other girls were already making a run for it as your grip on Aiko's face tightened, causing her to wince at the feeling.

“Aren’t you like a grown woman or something? Get your hands off me!!” She squealed, possibly forgetting how to use her arms as she fought dumbly trying to escape your hold.

“I hope you didn’t think that shit was funny,” you said, observing her dull blue eyes.

There was nothing behind them, complete emptiness.

Much like Maddison, you thought to yourself.

“You leave Leeseo alone from now on, alright? She’s a hard working girl and doesn’t need punks like you making her life more difficult.”

Aiko's gaze darted between you and Leeseo who stood awkwardly in front of the wall, “An innocent, hard-working girl, huh? Wow... you really are two-faced.”

“I don’t think you answered her question,” Leeseo pitched.

Aiko only laughed in response, blinking a few times before answering, “Like I said, get your fucking hands off me, or there’s gonna be a serious problem,” she taunted, titled her head before you let go, watching as she walked away.

“See you at school, Flash,” she smiled, disappearing behind a corner.

“What’d she just call you?”

“Nothing!” Leeseo responded, a bit louder than planned.

“Don’t lie to me, kiddo. What does that name mean?”

“It means I’m a slut, okay? Just like they said,” she sighed, picking up her apron that the girls had thrown on the ground earlier, “a stupid slut that sends stupid photos to stupid boys who tell stupid girls.”

You couldn’t think of anything else to say to her in the moment, as you’re sure she had heard enough of your advice.

All you did was pull her in for a hug, running a hand through her hair as she fought with the lump growing in her throat.

“You are not a stupid slut, Leeseo. You’re a teenage girl just trying to survive in this world,” you encouraged, breaking from the embrace.

That’s when you noticed Nate from afar, walking closer as you and Leeseo tried to recollect yourself.

“What was that all about?” He asked, giving Leeseo a side hug as she hid her face from him shyly.

“Depends, how much did you see?”

“Well, I saw you get all handsy with that high schooler who was harassing our girl over here,” he huffed, “you okay, Sissy?”

“Yeah, Nate, I’m fine,” she nearly whispered, crossing her arms.

“Look, Nate, I’m not usually that aggressive. I just couldn’t hold back when I saw-"

“____, stop your rambling,” he smiled, bringing a finger to your lip for a moment, “You were fucking amazing. Most girls wouldn’t have reacted the way you did, and I’m sure Leeseo is grateful that you stood up for her.”

You felt you stomach flutter at his words, or maybe it was whatever compelled him to touch your lips.

“Yeah, Nate’s right. You’re like… kind of a badass now.”

“Oh, only kind of,” you chuckled, nudging her waist.

“Yeah, because you let her go.”

Nate nodded in agreement with Leeseo, shrugging his shoulders in a teasing way, “She does have a point there, ____.”

“Well, it’s important to end your battles just as wisely as you pick them,” you said, the three of you walking towards the parking lot.

“Well said, Yoda,” Nate teased, making eye contact with you before speaking, “so, you doing anything after this?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta clean up some glass I dropped in the shop, but I’ll text you later if I can meet up.”

“Okay,” he smiled, giving you and Leeseo both one last hug before heading back to wherever he came from, “Stay out of trouble, you guys!”

“We’ll try,” Leeseo called out, walking towards the cafe.

“Hey, you’re off for the day. Enjoy your time-off.”

“I will… after I return the favor,” she winked, heading towards the utility unit and grabbing a broom.

10:15pm

Despite having gotten off from work early, you still felt a little worn out from a certain series of events that occurred earlier. So, you decided to calm yourself down with a nice evening bath before bed.

After blow drying your hair, you proceeded with some simple skincare steps before finally ended with moisturizer.

That’s when you got a call from Yunjin. She was never one to call you this late, so you answered the call, hoping that everything was okay on her end.

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked, holding the phone to your ear as you closed your container of face cream.

“Oh my God, someone’s trying to kill me!”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m dead serious. Poor choice of words, but I’ve been running for five minutes and I’m about to give up,” she said, voice starting to crack, “…I thought it was funny at first, but now I’m really scared.”

“Oh my God, do you still see them?” You asked again, clutching to your phone.

“No, but I can hear their feet… I’m so fucking scared, ____.”

“I know, Jinnie. Where are you?”

“In the neighborhood-“

“Okay, I’m calling the police-“

“No, ____, don’t hang up!”

“Yunjin, I HAVE to.”

“Please don’t! I already tried but they sent me to the holding line… I just need to hear your voice right now, okay?”

“This is ridiculous! Your life is on the line here, I have to do something!” You cried, heart racing with your feet as you rushed to put on your coat, grabbing your car keys, “I’m gonna call them right now.”

“F-fuck, fuck, fuck,” she stammered, starting to sob, “you really shouldn’t hang up right now, ____.”

“Everything is going to be okay, Yunjin, just keep talking to me, I’m on my way to you!” You panted, running to your car without even making sure your apartment door was locked. “Do you still hear them?”

“Yes, and they’re getting faster! I don’t know what to do,” she said, choking on her own breath.

“Yunjin, sweetie, I need you to calm down. Your nerves are only going to make things worse.”

“What the fuck, ____, I’m gonna die!!”

“Fuck, Yunjin, don’t say that! Look around, is there anywhere you can hide? Any possible weapons?”

“No, I can’t see shit out here!!”

“Wait- I think I see you,” you said, zipping down the street.

“Is that your car? AHHH!”

“Yunjin!?!! What happened?!?!”

“I tripped- ugh, fuck…,” she sobbed, getting up with adrenaline until she caught a glimpse of the cherry colored blood dripping down her leg, making her feel lightheaded.

“Yunjin, are you okay?”

“Eugh- yeah,“ she groaned, “I just can’t feel my fucking legs… hurry!!”

“Shit, I lost you…,” you cursed under your breath until it hit you, “WAVE YOUR PHONE AROUND ON FLASH!”

“I- o-okay, okay!” She stuttered, fumbling with the phone in her hand as she put on the flash and did as you said.

You saw the faint white light radiating from her smartphone about three houses ahead of you.

Slamming your foot on the gas, you nearly flew down the street, a screeching sound echoing from your tires.

Your brakes came to a clean stop as you drifted around the corner, rolling down your car windows.

“Hurry, get in, get in!”

Yunjin only nodded as she ran toward the car, shoulder jerking as the car door resisted in opening.

“What the fuck, ____, unlock the damn door!!”

“Fuck, I did!!” You cried, frantically pressing the unlock button.

Quick thinking kicked in as Yunjin opted for the window, crawling in desperately as the hooded and masked figure sprinted towards your vehicle from behind her.

You reached out your hand to pull Yunjin’s body into the car the rest of the way before zooming off, the crazy killer having gotten just close enough to graze her calf with his blade.

“Hughh,” She exhaled, struggling to get a hold of her breath, “how does he know you?”

Darting through the neighborhood, you tried your best to escape the psycho, even though he didn’t have a chance to catch up with you on foot.

“W- what? What do you mean?”

“The guy in the mask, he said that he was gonna kill me because of YOU, ____! Holy shit, and he was tall as fuck with that freaky ass voice you were telling me about… And there was another girl out tonight! Oh my God, I bet he went after her too!”

“Another girl??” your voice raised slightly, "w-what'd she look like?"

"She's... I've seen her before... that kid... the one from Leeseo's school who comes around the café sometimes."

"Maeve?"

"No, not her... the prettier one."

You didn't wanna think about how Aiko was likely running for her life outside right now, but it was too late to turn around, so you distracted yourself by something else, “…how’s your leg doing?”

“Fine,” she whined, wiping the tears of black mascara that painted her cheeks.

“I don’t feel safe anymore,” she continued, shaking her head as her lower lip quivered, “none of us should…”

“I know, Yunjin.”

“You keep saying that, but I get the feeling there are a lot of things you’re late on clearing up about this, ____. Help me know, too.”

Your chest raised as you took a deep breath, letting out a sigh before answering, “that guy tonight…. I can’t say that I’m sure, but I think it’s Heeseung.”

“Your boyfriend,” she asked confused.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Jinnie.”

“Yeah, and I also doubt he’s a fucking psychopath. Isn’t he a doctor? He helps people for a living, you know?”

“Fuck, Yunjin, he’s the only other person who knows the full story. It just makes sense.”

Silence filled the car for a moment.

“Okay, now THIS is ridiculous. For the love of God, could you think of any other person that would possibly wanna torture us like this,” Yunjin nagged, looking at you as your eyes were still trained on the road.

“It… it could be… I’m just guessing, but… Sunghoon?”

“Huh,” Yunjin scoffed in disbelief, “So your dead boyfriend?”

“Whatever you wanna call it,” you replied sharply, feeling frustrated from life itself.

“Great, so what do we do about him now? How do we beat the final boss?”

Your grip around the steering wheel tightened as both fear and shame rose in your gut. You dreaded the moment you shared your past with Yunjin, and you dreaded the guilt that came with her almost losing her life because of it.

You took a deep breath and focused your eyes on the road, trying to fight back the tears that dared to spill from your terrorized eyes.

“We tell Nate,” you said, making a U-turn as you trailed down the road.

"Right, the computer obsessed nerd who drinks way too much coffee...” she cheered facetiously before continuing, “oh, and do you have an aspirin with you by any chance?"

"No. Here, drink this for now," you said, handing her the water bottle from your car door that you don't even remember purchasing.

She shook her head, taking a long sip from the bottle before resting it between her legs, "All I know is that this costume party better be fucking worth it."

➠ thursday

2:26am

3:43pm

You took Nate up on his previous offer to hang out and decided to invite him to have drinks with you and Yunjin at the local outdoor tea shop. That's where you two decided to tell him everything that happened the other night.

“I just... I don’t know what to do anymore, Nate," you frowned, stirring the tapioca pearls at the bottom of your cup.

“Every problem has a solution, ____. Your goal is to have your normal life back, right?”

“Yes, you know that, Nate. All I've wanted for the past few months is a slice of normalcy.”

He looked at Yunjin, whose facial expression mirrored the frown you wore, trying to come up with something, if anything at all, to grant you this craved slice of the ordinary.

“Fine. I have an idea in mind, but you might think it's a little crazy.”

"Crazier than looking over your shoulder every five seconds in fear of some punk with a knife kink," Yunjin asked in a goofy tone.

"Not quite," he began, taking a sip of his tea before continuing, "I've been meaning to throw this Halloween party at my house for a while. I'll text you all the updates if you're interested, but people will be wearing costumes."

"You're solution is a fashionably belated adult dress-up party?" Yunjin asked, yet stated in disapproval.

"Exactly. It'll be fun and best of all, normal. Obviously there's no pressure for you two to come, it was just an... a dumb idea, I guess-"

"No!" You excitedly interjected in Nate's defense, "That's actually a really great idea, Nate! We're young adults for crying out loud. Silly parties are literally a defining point of our culture."

You're not sure what got into you, but Kazuha would be proud of your willingness to mingle if she was here. Despite your past experiences with costume parties and undeniable intorvertism, you weren't gonna let some masked goon get in the way of your chance at feeling normal again, even if it was only for a few hours.

Yunjin cocked an eyebrow at you in confusion and concern, "I don't know, ____. Being in an environment like that can disturb your recovery. Plus, I'm not sure if that's the safest idea either, considering how that midnight prankster literally cut me."

"We'll be together the entire time," Nate bud in, "I'm a pretty strong guy, y'know? And from what I've seen, ____ here can be pretty badass when it comes to defense."

You tried not to laugh at the memory of Aiko and Leeseo's parking lot showdown yesterday. It flattered you that Nate viewed your protectiveness as a sign of courage, even though you might've gotten a little carried away.

"Uhmmmm, she's blushing... Why is she blushing?! ____, did something happen that I don't know about? Nate, for the love of God, would you please stop smirking!!" Yunjin huffed, dying to know about this obvious inside joke Nate just told.

"I'm not smirking," he lied, chuckling at Yunjin's words as he struggled to look her in the face out of embarrassment.

"We're not hiding anyyyything. Right Nate?" You giggled, flashing him a corny wink.

Yunjin rolled her eyes at you two, taking an annoyed sip from her boba as you guys fought the growing urge to buss out laughing.

That's when you all spotted Leeseo walking home from school with her hair covering her face. You made an effort to call her over, but she obviously ignored you until Nate said something.

"Sissy," He almost whispered with a now forced smile, sensing that something was off by her foggy aura.

She stopped right in her tracks, bashfully lifting her head to reveal her tear-stained cheeks.

The three of you got up from your table, rushing over to comfort her.

"Hey, why the long face, kiddo?" Yunjin asked, taking Leeseo's backpack so the poor girl could finally relax her anxious shoulders.

"S-something happened to Aiko last night," she let out through broken sniffles, "Maeve was telling the whole school about it today."

Oh my God, you thought to yourself.

A worried expression wavered over Nate's features, "W-well... what'd she say?"

"She was talking on the phone with Aiko last night to make sure she got home safely. That's when Aiko said this weird guy kept texting her... Maeve listened to the whole thing..."

"Leeseo, I'm kind of missing the point here," Yunjin pressed, not being able to read through her words clearly.

"Aiko told Maeve that some guy in a costume started chasing her... Another girl was running away with her, but Aiko couldn't tell who she was..."

"Leeseo..."

"Maeve said she heard Aiko stop running, followed by painful screaming and coughing... we don't know for sure but... people are saying that its a ghost face copycat-"

Nate stopped her mid-sentence, wrapping his arms around her as she weeped into his chest.

"I know it's silly that I'm crying because she was such a bitch to me," her voice cracked, tears leaving darkened grey spots on Nate's turtleneck.

"You're not silly for having a heart, Leeseo," you said softly, holding your own hands from how cold your surroundings suddenly became.

"They found her body, ____," she sobbed, hardly being able to contain her breathing, "that freak killed her."

Nothing else was said as there was nothing left to say. You all stood around Nate and Lesseo in a circle, meddling on the increasingly horrifying status of your realities.

Turns out that the new masked goon on the street wasn't some lame copy cat, but unfortunately, someone much more sinister.

➠ friday

11:54am

During your lunch break, you decided to tell Heeseung about Nate's costume party tonight. Not because you wanted him to join you or anything... mostly because you thought it'd be the right thing to let him know. Though, if you knew he would've reacted in the way he did, you simply would've avoided telling him altogether.

"Why would you go to a party like that, ____?" He scolded, shaking his head at you, "People in masks, carrying fake knives and what not. You're not ready, ____! A kid was literally just stabbed to death in our neighborhood!"

"I am ready, Heeseung! Hell, I don't even remember what Sunghoon looks like at this poin. He's officially a part of my past now, and I thank you for everything you've done to help me heal since that, but please, don't ruin this for me."

"Ruin your mood before a bogus late Halloween party?" He scoffed, leaning against the wall in the cafeteria.

You decided to break the news to him after surprising him at work with some lunch you made for him that morning. You understood exactly where he was coming from: Heeseung only wanted the best for you ever since day one, but you still wish he wouldn't have been so harsh about something as simple as a costume party.

"Please don't get mad at me for asking, but have you stopped taking your meds?"

Your heart dropped at his words. Was there an obvious difference in your behavior that would make him know that?

Now it was your turn to feel guilty, "I'm sorry for not telling you, Heeseung. I haven't taken any over the last few days, but I promise you, I've never been happier!"

"____, you think I don't know about that little stunt at your job? Your emotions are out of control!"

"I only stopped taking the meds because Nate suggested I give them a break. If me not feeding into fear is what losing control of me emotions looks like, then so be it," you fought back.

"God, listen to yourself, ____. Valuing the advice of this Nate guy over me, a professional healthcare provider? Where's your trust in me?" He frowned, voice falling to a whisper.

Beep, beep, beep, the cafeteria microwave chimed through the tension of the room. Heeseung had put the lunch you made him in there a few minutes ago, and you're sure it was pretty over-warmed by now.

"I'm trusting in myself from now on," you replied, adjusting your purse over your shoulder and turning to walk away from him, "Enjoy your food, Heeseung."

9:03pm

Once again, it was a Friday night and the mood was right, as you liked to say.

The decorations, the vibes and snack table—it was all reminiscent of Sunghoon's party last summer, but minus the fear that came with it.

Better.

You couldn't help but think about Kazuha in the atmosphere.

Parties were always her scene, and now that you think about it, Yunjin had a spirit very similar to Kaz, and Nate… well, he was a lot like the person Sunghoon had fooled you into thinking he was.

Kind, gentle, healing.

You and Yunjin were dressed to impress in your flirty cat costumes, Nate opting for a more relaxed apparel in a graphic sweatshirt, silver chains, and ripped jeans.

"It's my emo persona," he clarified for the both of you who were still confused as to why he didn't dress up at his own party.

"Cool, so does this emo version of you go by a different name orrr-"

"You died your hair black," you interrupted, staring in shock.

Nate's smile froze before twisting into something more mischievous, "Yeah, I did. Too bad our friend Yunjin here didn't notice... have you been drinking?" He teased, poking her on the forehead.

"Hands off, Lil Huddy, and no, I'm still waiting for the host to show me where the bar is."

"As you wish," he smiled, taking you and Yunjin's hand in his, slipping past the crowd and beelining toward his indoor bar.

One Of The Girls pulsed from the radio speakers, thrumming through the party air as surrounding bodies either swayed or made conversation to the rhythms. The mysterious aura of the song lingered in your limbs as you struggled to wrap your head around what bothered you about Nate's costume tonight.

You didn't wanna say it was the hair, because this new, dark look made him undeniably more attractive. Still, there was something different about his eyes. Something that made you feel uneasy.

So you brushed it off.

"What's your poison," Nate asked with a cheesy grin, placing three chilled shot glasses and a drink mixer on the counter.

“Hmm,” You began, tapping at your chin, “how about something creamy with a dairy base? In honor of our feline outfits.”

“Got it,” he huffed, rolling up his sleeves and examining the array of shelved alcohols behind him. He went for a bottle of banana liquor and crème de cacao. Pouring the amber liquids into the mixers along with some whole milk and ice, he gave it a theatrical shake before pouring it into your shot glasses. “Voila, my ladies! Tell me what you think,” Nate hummed, looking into your eyes as he licked the bead of milk from the rim of the cup.

Yunjin took a sip first and then you, surprisingly pleasant flavors of warm chocolate greeting your taste buds. “Woah, this is actually really good! The banana doesn’t taste synthetic, either!” Yunjin chirped, going back for another sip.

“That’s because I only buy the finest quality products for my guests,” Nate said, eyes turning back to you as he leaned over the counter, wiping the sweet foam from your lips with his thumb.

“Jeez, I’m still right here, y’know?” Yunjin cringed, making you and Nate both feel a little shy.

“What’s this drink called anyway? I wanna make it at home sometime,” Yunjin continued.

“It’s called a Banshee. You can look up the recipe online.”

“Oooh, sounds dangerous.”

“It’s not. Most Banshee’s only warn of pending deaths, while others relish in the pain of people who’ve harmed them in some way.”

“Interesting, but what does that have to do with bananas and chocolate,” you asked.

“The short answer is nothing at all,” Nate said, walking around the counter to sit in between you and Yunjin, “it’s just a silly name, I guess.”

After you three finished up your drinks, you headed back to the dance floor where you made absolute fools of yourselves. Yunjin, who got the dropsies early on, called in an Uber to drive her back home.

“Yunjin, I’m not letting you go home alone while drunk,” you retorted, walking her to the car, “Besides, I’m sure your driver won’t mind looking at two pussies for the night.”

“Yeah,” she giggled, leaning her head into your shoulder, “but maybe some other time when I'm a little more in touch,” she smiled, drawing your attention to the tinted windows of the vehicle. You could barely make out what the driver looked like.

“Anyways, you and Nate deserve this night together. I’ll be fine, I promised,” she said with slurred words as you watched her enter the vehicle.

“Okay, Jinnie. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you waved as the car pulled off.

“Tomorrow!” She cheered back before rolling up the window.

10:16pm

The party continued as normal, you and Nate sticking by each others side for the entire time. As expected, a few ghostface cosplayers welcomed themselves to the party space, but you weren’t gonna let them worry you.

Buzz. Buzz.

Your phone vibrated in your purple handbag. Pulling out your phone, the bright screen revealed an incoming call from an unknown number.

What a wonderful surprise, you thought to yourself.

You went to press the hangup button, but Nate stopped your hand, meeting your eyes with his encouraging ones.

“Go on… answer it,” he almost whispered, securing your waist with his protective hand.

You’re not sure what compelled you to listen to him, but you felt strong enough to answer the call just as casually as it came.

“Who is this,” you asked dumbly, your gut having told you exactly who it was before answering.

“Does my voice ring any bells?”

Gut wrong. It was Heeseung. You had forgotten all about how you blocked him a few hours after your argument to make sure he didn't get in the way of your party plans. That explains why he called from a burner number.

“What do you want, Hee,” you said with a sigh, now walking away from Nate’s hold.

“Oh, so first, you risk your health by going against my advice, and now I’m not allowed to check on you, either?”

“I’m fine, Hee,” you answered, only for another ring tone to fill your ear.

You glanced at the phone screen: another unknown number was intersecting the call.

“Gimme a second,” you paused, accepting the incoming call and putting Heeseung’s line on hold.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?”

Nevermind. Gut actually right, just slightly delayed. It was the ghostface creep calling to ruin your fun.

“Enjoying what, exactly?" You pressed, already feeling yourself get a little nervous.

"Enjoying this taste of normalcy, of course. You're not trying to forget about me, are you princess?" The gravelly voice slithered, sending chills down your spine.

It was obvious that this psycho wanted you to think they were some kind of Sunghoon Park reincarnate, coming back to haunt you all over again. The part that you didn't understand, however, was how they knew so much and why they were willing to kill for the sake of a prank.

"Look, I don't have time for your games right now, stay out of my life," You bit back, trying to hide just how scared you truly were.

"Oh, ____, we both know that I can't do that. But I'll promise you this much: No more games tonight. Deal?"

You took a moment to breath before answering, "D-deal."

"Perfect. Now if you're a smart girl who learns from her mistakes, you won't hang up until I say so," the voice hissed.

The sound of what you assumed was a vinyl record scratching against a pin met your anxious ear, an upbeat piano tune rumbling from the track.

"Unusual. They say strange fascination, in...fatuation! A lunatic."

"What is this," you couldn't help but ask, even though you knew there wouldn't be an answer.

"Cause my insides are red, and yours are too! And the red on my face is matching you," the chilling recording sang, "And goodness you're bleeding. What a wonderful feeling. You're down and you're pleading. My head is just reeling-"

You subconsciously walked back closer to Nate as the chorus erupted, bumping into him as you were lost in whatever trance this freak was successfully putting on you.

The urge to hang up grew stronger with each second, but you knew better than to test your luck so soon.

"ꪻꫝꫀ ᥅ꫀᦔ ꪑꫀꪖꪀᦓ ꠸ ꪶꪮꪜꫀ ꪗꪮꪊ " The final lyric whined before the phone call ended abruptly.

Heeseung's line appeared to have cut a few minutes ago, too.

No... he hung up on you.

You called Heeseung back who immediately answered, “Where are you?” You started, not even trying to hide your sense of urgency.

"Why, your new boyfriend abandoned you already?"

"Cut the crap, Heeseung, where are you??” Your voice cracked this time.

"God, I’m at home, ____, why--"

Nate snatched your phone, cutting the call as he turned you to face him, "What the hell was that all about?"

“That ghost face creep wanted me to stay on the phone while he serenading me...”

"You're kidding."

"I wish. Too bad I got scared into listening."

"It's okay. I'm sure you did the right thing. Now where are we headed."

"Wherever Heeseung is. I'm skeptical that he may be behind all of this, but if he's not, that phone call I got was just a distraction. He could be in trouble." You said, taking Nate's hand in yours as you led him outside of the party and to his car.

"Okay. Is there any way you can track his location?"

"Yeah, as long as he has his phone with him," you said, getting in the car and putting on your seatbelt.

Nate passed you your phone so you could pull up Heeseung's whereabouts. From the looks of it, he was driving somewhere, and definitely not home like he said he was.

"What's he doing in the middle of nowhere?" Nate asked, narrowing his eyes at the phone screen.

"I have know idea, but we have to follow him," you said, holding up your phone for Nate to follow the directions.

10:20pm

Yunjin sat quietly in the backseat, observing the night skyline behind the foggy car windows in between her recurrent dozing.

A certain bump in the road caused the car to shake, disrupting Yunjin's slumber once again. That's when she overheard the Uber driver on the phone with someone.

"Hey... not sure if I'm hallucinating or not, but were you just on the phone with my friend?” She asked, having heard a familiar voice on the other end of the call.

The driver didn't pay Yunjin any mind as he continued speaking on the phone, the female voice repeating the name "Heeseung" a few times before hanging up.

"Oh my gosh!" She gasped in shock, taking in the view of the drivers face from the rearview mirror, "You’re Heeseung? Wow, you’re like... wayyyyy hotter than I thought you’d be. Respectfully, of course, since you and ____ have history. She is literally so lucky to have you around.”

“She sure is," he said with a forced smiled, but it didn't quite reach his dark, doe eyes.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he turned down yet another rocky trail.

“Hey, I think you made a wrong turn, my street is that way…” Yunjin mumbled, not wanted to come off as bossy.

“Oh- Yeah, I'm taking a short cut to avoid traffic, don't worry about it.”

She simply nodded in response, dozing off for another 10 minutes before waking back up again. Yunjin was never really a lightweight when it came to drinking. If anything, it sometimes seemed as though she was immune to its effects.

"What the hell was in that Banshee," she thought to herself, rubbing the heaviness from her glittery eyes before looking back out the window again, taking in the view of trees and wildlife that made up her surroundings.

“Hey, we’ve been on this road for a while now, are you sure you're on the right path?”

Heeseung pursed his lips at her question, taking a breath and holding it in his chest for a moment, “I can't take you home tonight," he said, eyes still trained on the road ahead of him as he locked the doors.

"Haha, very funny, but suddenly, I gotta piss. So unless you wanna smell my golden release in your car for the next month, I suggest you take another detour, Dr. Lee," She threatened, unbuckling her seatbelt to ease the pressure around her stomach.

"I'm afraid I don't have much time to tell you this, but someone from ____'s past is out to hurt the both of you. You need to understand that Nate is not who he says he is," Heeseung frowned, letting go of the breath he'd been holding.

“Yeah, no kidding, but that still doesn't explain where the fuck you're taking me,” Yunjin retorted, fidgeting with the car door handle as a way to annoy him.

“Would you please stop doing that? I'm already on edge right now, and you would be too if you actually listened to what I'm saying," Heeseung sighed, raising his voice slightly.

"I am listening."

"Great, so hear this. I'm taking you somewhere safe from whatever's to come tonight.. otherwise, you could be in even more trouble.”

Yunjin let his words sink in before answering, "Okay, I hope that I'm making the right decision by trusting you, but what about ____?"

"I'll take care of her after this, just focus on yourself right now," he replied, pulling the vehicle into the driveway of a mysterious log cabin cradled within the depths of the forest.

"Get out," Heeseung said, exiting the vehicle with haste as Yunjin followed after him, walking up to the front door where a key was hidden beneath the doormat.

"Just follow me, he'll find you too easily up here," he went on, grabbing her hand and leading her to the downstairs basement.

With how fast Heeseung was moving, Yunjin barely had enough time to make out her surroundings, her peripheral vision being filled with colors instead of identifiable objects... Or maybe that was the affect of Nate's Banshee still lingering in her system.

The last thing she'd remember was Heeseung bringing her into the basement before closing the door, approaching her with a wooden chair in his grasp as everything around her went black.

10:52pm

According to your phone's GPS, you were still a few minutes shy from arriving at Heeseung's location. Though, the undeniable familiarity of your surroundings brought up a feeling of anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

The way the moonlight peeked through the trees, casting an ominous glow on the hood of Nate's car was all too reminiscent of a few scenes from your nightmares.

Scenes where Sunghoon would drive you to and from the clinic as if it were a daycare center for punished girls, watching from the hospital cafeteria window as bright mornings slowly faded into a starry nights.

Much like tonight, that is.

The bright car headlights of the vehicle glazed the surface of a rectangular sign hanging above the front door of the shady cabin. hidden within the first as Nate pulled into the driveway. A sign that read the words "Park Lodge."

Another sight that caught your attention was the same Uber car that Yunjin got into and the front door that was left open.

Oh God, help me please, you thought to yourself, or maybe prayed, fidgeting with your fingers as Nate stopped the car, ceasing the calming sound of the air conditioner.

"Are you sure you wanna go in, or would you rather stay out here," Nate asked softly, looking in your direction as you simply stared in your lap.

Still dressed in your slutty cat costume, you couldn't help but feel silly, almost as though you'd gotten dressed up to make a fool out of yourself tonight.

So many thoughts and questions were running through your head: Was Yunjin okay? Why the hell would Heeseung come here? Does he have something to do with this recent outbreak of ghost face hysteria? Who could you trust?

Slam.

You closed the car door, leaving your hand bag behind, walking up to the cabin with Nate beside you.

Despite everything you'd been through, this was easily one of the most frightening experiences of them all, but you couldnt let fear get the best of you.

Not yet.

Not now.

"What is this place," he asked, taking in the interior design of this forbidden cabin you knew all too well.

"My former torture chamber," you sighed, opening door after door in search of anything at all, "The place where Sunghoon would..." your voice trailed off, "the place where it all happened."

Nate only hummed at your words, eyes scanning your movements as you continued to search the space like a maniac, but to no avail.

That's when you saw a trail of dirt leading to the basement.

Two trails, that is. One from a man and the other from a female.

"In here!" You called out to Nate who ran towards you, twisting the door handle that refused to grant you access.

"Step back," he said, and you did, watching as he gave the door a few kicks before it slung open, the handle clashing with the wall behind it.

"Watch your step," he warned, taking in the extravagant view of steps that lead to whatever was hiding within the darkness of the basement aside from the many demons Sunghoon left behind.

Step by step, you watched as your feet met each level, Nate's shoes clicking behind yours. Once your boots finally met solid ground, you weren't too surprised to see Heeseung pacing around the room casually.

You didn't even realize Nate was holding your hand until he let go of it, leaving your side for reasons you didn't immediately understand.

“What’re you doing here!?” You nearly shouted, a disgusted look wavering over your face at Heeseung's relaxed demeanor.

But to your surprise, he didn't answer, only watching as Nate made his way to the closet, looking to Heeseung before asking, "Is she in here?"

Heeseung nodded, and with that, Nate took it upon himself to open the closet door, revealing none other than Yunjin's unconscious body sitting, no, tied to a chair with rope, a rectangle of duck tape covering her mouth.

You’re not sure why you just stood there and watched, but you did. Something about seeing yet another person end up in a bad situation simply because they were your friend made you freeze.

Nate’s previously nervous expression was taken over by a much more malicious one, his hand going to grab a handful of Yunjin's hair before giving her head a shake, “Is anybody home,” he snickered, but she remained asleep, only groaning at his actions.

“Don’t touch her like that!” You finally yelped, causing Yunjin to regain her consciousness from the loudness of your voice.

Nate removed the tape from her mouth.

“_-____?” She stuttered over your name through half lidded eyes, looking back at you.

Slice.

Blood trickled down Nate’s arm as he dug the rim of his knife further into the flesh of Yunjin’s throat, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as her arms tensed up from the pain.

“Shit, looks like I missed the rope,” Nate pouted facetiously, letting her head hang forward as he licked the bead of blood that trailed down his knife, “I've always had bad aim.” “Why the hell did you do that!!” Heeseung yelled, running up to Nate and pushing him away from Yunjin, “We agreed that we weren’t gonna kill her, that’s why I told you to spike her drink in the first place!”

“But gosh, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Nate defended, to which Heeseung scoffed annoyedly.

“Yunjin didn’t hurt your sister! And she wasn’t like that other girl you killed that night. Our other targets deserved to die. Not her,” Heeseung said with a heavy voice, almost as if wanting to cry, but you knew he wouldn’t.

Closing the closet door, a look of disappointment wavered over his features, “You're loosing grip of your purpose, Sunghoon.”

You felt as though your world stopped spinning at the realization of everything that was going on.

So you weren't just going crazy this entire time?

“N-…. N-no, it can’t be,” you stuttered, feeling as though your legs would give out. “Don’t touch me!” You barked as Heeseung tried to catch you from falling, which you did anyway, right to your knees.

“This whole time… S-Sunghoon, I...I thought... y-you're supposed to be dead,” your voice cracked, another tear joining the cloudy stream that already stained your face.

“With that logic, I guess I'm supposed to be a lot of things... Sane, kind, honest. By now though, you should know that I've always danced to the beat of my own drum," Sunghoon smirked, playing with the bloody knife in his hand, "What did you think of that song, by the way? Pretty good, right?"

“You fucking monster! Y-you… you killed two innocent people!”

"Oh, big woop! It's not like they were going to turn out to be anything anyways," Nate scoffed, twirling the weapon once again, "I'm sure you probably have a lot of questions you'd like to ask, so I recommend you start talking before my patience runs out."

"Heeseung... I... I don't understand your role in all of this..."

"There are no excuses for my actions, ____, but I owed it to Sunghoon. We both found each other during some dark times in our lives. He promised to help me get some pretty bad people off my back if in exchange, I helped him kill off that Jun-Hwan guy... I just got in too deep to turn back.”

"But why? Why go on for so long? Why not just kill me off and relish in your fleeting sense of justice?" You cried, not being able to control the tears spilling from your eyes.

Your entire life for the past 6 months had been nothing more than a big fat lie.

“God, didn't I already explain this part to you everyday when I had you down here all those days? I did it for my sister, ____,” Sunghoon hissed.

"So you tortured me everyday for months while I carried your child for some lame attempt at redemption?"

"Exactly. See? I knew you were smart."

“No... maybe in the beginning your intentions were noble, but now you’re just acting on your own sick impulses! You like hurting people!”

"Okay, I thought I told you to ask questions, not lecture me."

“Your entire plan was to make my life a living hell! All that shit you said about loving me was a part of this grand psychological game you’re playing!”

“Bingo! You’re on fire, princess,” he winked, unfazed by your emotional outburst, "Now, in a few seconds, I'm going to slit your eyelids in half so you can watch as I stab you multiple times in the face. Any last words?"

You couldn't even be mad at yourself for falling for his tricks... People always said that psychopaths had a way of making some of the most convincing actors.

"Fuck you," you spat, lips trembling like an earthquake before him.

"Cute. If you so happen to wake up in heaven, tell Wonyoung I said-"

Bang.

A silver bullet lodged through the center of Sunghoon's chest, the loud sound making your ears pop.

Bang.

Another bullet joined the first one in his chest, the silver blade finally falling from his cold grasp and clashing with the wooden floor.

Bang.

This shot went off with a ring, gushing through his forehead as his now lifeless body met you on the floor, splashes of red decorated your skin. It was interesting how his beautiful face stayed in contact after the collision.

Your jaw went slack at the sight, a mixture of terror and surprise running through every cell in your body.

You turned to see the source of the gunfire, finding none other than Leeseo standing with the smokey weapon still pointed at Sunghoon's head, her index finger slowly easing into the trigger again.

"That's enough!!" You yelled, haulting what would've made her fourth shot at him.

Putting the gun on safety, she tucked it into her brown leather jacket, grabbing you by the hands as she lifted you up from the ground, greeting you with her embrace.

"What the hell are you doing here, kiddo," you sniffled in her shoulder, feeling as though your body was on the verge of breaking.

"I suspected Nate had something to do with Aiko's death, so I started following him and noticed that he kept coming back here for some reason," she whispered, breaking from the hug.

"Leeseo-"

"I'm so glad that I brought my dad's pistol with me tonight. I heard that there was a party going on and I had a feeling what kind of monster I was dealing with early on. It sucks to say that my instincts were right-"

"Leeseo-"

"I saw him kill Yunjin from upstairs. I froze at the sight in the same way you did-"

"Leeseo, listen."

"What?" She said, taking your hands in hers.

“Nate wasn't real… his real name is Sunghoon Park.”

She screwed her eyebrows at your words, "Wait- Like the original guy from the ghost face incidents this summer?"

"Yes," you replied plainly.

"But... the news said he died... h-he... no, V hit him with a car outside of the hospital! He was in a coma-"

"Look, there's a lot more to the story that I have yet to tell you because I'm still trying to understand some of it myself... I'm just glad you were brave enough to stand up for us like that."

All she did was smile. Even in the face of danger, she always had a way of bringing sunshine to the room. "Are you sure I shouldn't shoot him one more time though?"

"He's dead, Sissy. For good this time, okay?" You reassured her as the sound of police sirens rumbled from above the basement.

Could this girl get any smarter?

"Hey... Where'd Dr. Lee go," she asked, taking one more good look around the basement.

"Don't worry about Heeseung. He wasn't on our side, either," you sighed as a team of police officers came rushing down the stairs, infiltrating the space.

➠ a little over one week later, monday

You still think about what would’ve happened if you wouldn't have dragged Yunjin into going to Sunghoon's party with you that night. If you didn’t trust "Nate" over your own gut feelings, falling for his charm in the same way you did when you first met him. If you never continued therapy or even a relationship with Heeseung. If you never betrayed Wonyoung for your friends to the point that she was bullied to death.

Would you, Kaz, and Madds still be friends, attending the same university together as you took on the exciting new adventure of adulthood? Would Sunghoon and Jun-Hwan be professional athletes in the Olympics, Wonyoung cheering them both on from the sidelines?

So many questions, but you're afraid there are only limited answers to them at this given moment in time.

Right now, you were rewarded the chance to lead your life the way you wanted, fear-free. “Hey, ____! Are you still down to hang out after work? I wanna show you the poster I was working on for Café Royale's holiday menu!” Leeseo chirped as she untied the bow to her apron, tucking it away in her sack. “Yeah, I’ll be out in a sec!” You called out to her, heading to lock up the kitchen before you left.

The owner of Café Royale had flew in town a few days ago, as she was also in search for normalcy some place outside of town. She felt the need to come down and check on things, bidding her condolences. "You might wanna keep a good eye on these," she said, placing the store front keys in your hand as she made her way outside, you following closely behind after hanging your apron over the wall hook. "I really can't thank you enough for this, ma'am," you expressed, watching as she got into her fancy purple car.

"Start by not letting me down. I understand that this is a big responsibility I'm leaving you with, but I know you can handle it. You're a trooper, ____," she smiled, closing her car door before pulling off, joining the rest of the busy vehicles rolling up and down the road. Leeseo was already at your side by now, hooking your arm in hers as she lead you in the direction of her "In Progress Creative Project."

"What'd the boss lady wanna tell you," she started, legs following the exact same step speed at which you walked.

You took a moment to soak up the evening sun, relishing in this feeling of normalcy you oh-so craved for far too long.

Here goes that word again, you thought to yourself, meeting Leeseo's eyes with your own enlightened ones.

"Let's just say I'll be sticking around this town for a lot longer than planned."

Fin.

❅ Thank you all so much for reading Part 3 of this absolute train wreck of a story! Special thanks to @ashgonedash the original requestor of this story, @squoxle my trusted creative assistant, and @yourmomscuntis2tighy for additional support and creative inspo! Couldn't have done this one without y'all!

❅ Make sure to check out my enhypen bookshelf here for my fun reads and yonder content !!

✎ ᴀ/ɴ: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.

taglist: @ashgonedash @nikilvr @ttokyoobv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @fightqueen @addictedtohobi @sltfohoon @lisaaannna @beomgyusonlywife @casualcloddeputyherring @calichuchies-blog @devqrasgirl @rhiannass @lovelycassy @pinapplefntacupss @en-thralled @nikimeows @kaykay11sworld @j-wyoung @flowerbe0m @clarisabutterfliescupcake @wonnyan @sunghoonmyprince @heeseung-min - EVERYONE ELSE I couldn't tag for some reason?? Sowwy hehe

241 notes · View notes