#one of them is even fucking recording it on their phone as they detain him! it makes me fucking sick

[milimeters-morales]

i’m not surprised that the iof are detaining/kidnapping injured Palestinians from ambulances but god it makes me sick i hope they burn in hell for all they’ve done and that Palestinians never have to suffer again like they’ve been suffering for the past decades

[lowkeyrobin]

Mcyt bbut a Karen makes their S/O cry? :0

It's the readers first ever encounter with one in the wild and at first Y/N just,,, tries to ignore the woman/leave but the Karen does the usual of not letting em leave and then Y/N gets overwhelmed and starts crying?-

BAHAHHAAB I LOVE FUCKING WRITINF ABOUT KARENS I CANNOT LMFAOOOOOO ; thank you for the request lol ; I got a random strike of writers block halfway through and its very obvious I'm sorry

MCYT ; wild karen encounter

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language, iterations of homophobia/transphobia & fatphobia, Karen activity, reader is described as nonbinary

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

you two went different ways while clothes shopping and you were looking at more fem/masc (whichever doesn't conform with your sex) clothing

you felt someone glaring daggers at you so you glanced up and saw some random ass woman staring at you, accompanied by her 13ish year old son

she started making remarks about how you shouldn't be looking at those clothes and it's not "modest" for a little young man/woman like you

like mf you're nonbinary huh

you try to ignore her, meanwhile her son looks SO uncomfortable and wants to very obviously leave

she starts recording you out of no where to call you slurs and the sons just like "mom stop" and of course she doesn't

you end up crying and trying to hide it while you defend yourself but you get quickly overstimulated and flustered

the yelling caught Tommy's attention so he quickly walks over like "woah, woah, woah, what's going on?"

and she starts SCREAMING at poor Tommy about you

he looks at you literally wiping your tears while she's STILL recording it and he just peacefully flames her ass

"it doesn't matter what the hell they wear, clothes don't have gender and I could care less about what my partner buys and wears and how they express themselves. go post that to Facebook and look like a fuckin' idiot."

he pulls you away to the changing rooms so you can talk in private and eventually try on the clothes you were looking for

while he was going that he got a hold of a nearby security officer and told them about the situation since you'd both been illegally recorded on the premises of the store

he didn't wanna press charges for you or anything but at least wanted the woman escorted out to look more like a dumbass, considering the security guard had to call the police because what she did was a crime

couple days later you found the video and bodycam footage of the woman being detained and arrested for resisting arrest and recording someone without consent on private property, which is marked as a felony where you live

live laugh love Tommy bc everyone in the video description was hyping him up and saying how bad they felt for you and even the son 🫶

RANBOO

dude you can't even go grocery shopping without people bitching about you guys

you were just trying to pick out some chips and this lady walks past with a scoff

ran quickly turns around like, "Sorry, can we help you?"

she quickly starts yelling about how you gay people are all going to hell and shit

ranboo quickly spits back but you get overstimulated and really take it to heart and you tear up a bit

the lady notices and points it out

she then follows you around the store, yelling at you and shit while they're on the phone dialing the non emergency police line because wtf is wrong w this lady???

before you're questioned and after she's detained, you guys stand alone and try to calm yourself down because you were just getting really stressed about it because wtf do you even do in that situation

gives you a big hug and reassures you that it's okay to cry

he's generally just proud of you in general for being able to hold yourself together for the most part

FREDDIE BADLINU

you two were going out for a little movie date, and dressed in tuxedos to watch Saw X

some dumbass dude was making snarky comments to his wife about you two considering you were holding hands while ordering snacks

Freddie turns around, having heard the guy talking about you thinking he dropped something "can I help you?" He asks in the nicest tone possible

the man and his wife both start making nasty comments about "this generation going to hell" and how you're brainwashing Freddie or something???

you almost immediately start crying because you're trying to ignore it and talk to the girl behind the counter filling your popcorn bucket who doesn't know what to do

she quickly pushes the security button under the counter because she can see your distress and how Freddie was just like stunned as he looked between the couple and you cause like wth

once they're escorted out you're the first in the theater so you guys sit there and talk it all out because you got really overwhelmed

he gives you a hug and reassures you that you did nothing wrong and you're gonna enjoy the movie

the dude had a warrant out for his arrest for not paying child support anyways L

NIKI NIHACHU

you two were out on a walk in a park holding hands and shit and passed this little family down by the creek

the mom just goes full fucking demon mode and starts recording you guys and shouting at you

niki quickly retaliated with a "leave us alone!" before walking off

you were visibly pretty shaken but she reassures you everything is okay and she probably wasn't even recording

she ends up finding the video a few days later

thankfully all the comments were supporting you two and flaming the lady's ass lmao

QUACKITY

you guys were out doing stuff (getting shit at home depot for quackitys new house and peojects) and some Karen was judging your abilities to handy-man basically

"actually, my partner is the best handyman I know! so shut the fuck up"

the Karen immediately goes to the front to get a manager or some shit

meanwhile yall quickly checkout and leave

while leaving you see her getting detained for resisting an officer with violence and threatening an officer 🥰

that becomes a story you tell at every single "family reunion" (meetup with friends)

he still boasts about yelling at someone like that

FOOLISH GAMERS

you guys were out getting snacks for a movie night with friends that were staying over

some Karen made a comment how you needed to go on a diet or some shit since you were the one carrying the basket full of unhealthy snacks

foolish quickly whips around and flames her ass

you just kinda stand there like "wtf"

foolish slings an arm around your shoulders and leads you away since she wouldn't stop blabbering and was threatening to call the cops for some reason

back in the car he reassures you that you do not need to go on a diet and you don't need to listen to the lady whatsoever

movie night was 10/10 you watched Barbie & roasted Saltburn bc that movie wasn't good like at all

[galaxyedging]

You Say Hate but I Think You Mean the Other Thing.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Warnings: Smut. Anal sex. Dry humping. Handcuffs. Swearing. Dave.

WC: 1.9k

"What the actual fuck Dave?! Why did you have them bring me in? I should be in the field." You were not impressed to get a call from your superiors pulling you in. You were even less impressed that the man that broke into your home, gave you the best sex you've ever had, left in the middle of the night and ghosted you, for a month, was the person you had to report to. The anger rolled off you in waves it became stiffling when Dave let you into a small dark room.

"Bringing you in wasn't down to me. Believe me I don't want anything to do with him. I was just the unlucky bastard who was available. They asked for you due to your history with him." He leaned against the desk in the middle of the room.

The anger had dulled your senses, you hadn't even taken enough notice enough to realise that one wall was a window into am interrogation room. Looking through it you saw who Dave was referring too.

"Shit." You cursed your own bad lucky. Sitting at the table in the sparse room was the guy you had gained intel from a month ago. The guy who's bones you had jumped to make Dave jealous. The guy you had blown while you made Dave, and his wife, watch.

"Is this some sort of game? Are you really that twisted than you'd detain a guy I slept with?!"

"Is that what you call it? A little tame to describe you choking on his cock while you smeared your cunt over his face."

"Wow. I knew you had issues but bring our work into this..."

"For the record, I'm a damn professional. I'm good at my job. I wouldn't have made so much noise fucking that I drew attention to the one innocent guy in the company so they could use him as a patsy."

"Fuck you. I was in and out clean. My cover is intact. They didn't know about me. If they're pinning it on him, they had already planned that!"

"Maybe. Or maybe you being a whore put a target on his back. Either way you need to go find out what he knows."

You let that barb slide as you thought how to go about it.

Walking up to Dave you stopped practically chest to chest. His sucked in a breath at the closeness as you reached behind him. Pulling the cuffs from his belt you handed them to him. "Put these on me."

Dave had to admit you were good. He didn't believe for one second that you'd put Pencil Dick on their radar. He just enjoyed riling you up. The scene before him proved just how good you were. You'd had Dave take you in handcuffed and acted like you were arrested as well. You 'confessed' to stealing some of the clients phone number to sell on but you swore that was it. Pencil Dick admitted stealing office supplies but that was all. Dave believed him. He genuinely knew nothing beyond the information you had already pumped him for. Dave was glad he'd be able to throw him out soon. He hated seeing you two near each other. He just kept seeing that asshole cum without taking care of you. How could he get a woman like you and not fulfil her needs?

Once he was sure you were done talking, Dave brought you back to the viewing room. "He's clean. We'll keep him safe for a few days until we wrap this up."

"Good. Keys?" You lifted your arms still locked behind your back.

Dave fished them out of his pocket before he hesitated. "Actually, no. You said some pretty unprofessional things before."

"I'm not in the mood Dave." Rolling you eyes you turned away from him adding mockingly. "I'm sorry! You would never do something like that! You are the best agent ever!"

"Apology accepted." His tone sounded sincere yet flat. He walked towards you, turning you gently to access the cuffs. "Ooops." The keys jingled against the concrete floor.

"Dave what are you..?" As he crouched down to pick them up, he ran his fingers up your calf, slow and deliberate. Then he ran them all the way up your thigh stopping just short of your crotch. He could feel the heat of you.

"Are you going to do something or..." you goaded him.

Without warning he sunk his teeth into the meat of your ass. It stung but you loved it. Pulling his head away her massaged the sensitive skin.

"Poor Baby." He mocked as you hissed at the contact. "Let me kiss it better."

Your skirt was over your hips in seconds. Dave knew you wore a thong with that particular skirt. It was the tight pencil one you used to distract the older agents to get what you wanted. With all the blood drained from their upstairs brains they were easier for you to manipulate. Dave kissed the bite mark already bruising on your left cheek. Then he ran his tongue across the cheek all the way to the crack of you ass. Tugging your thong out of the way, he plunged his tongue between your cheeks the tip of it caressing the tight ring of muscle there. His hand on your cuffs kept you in place as he ate you.

When he got you suitably worked up he informed you of what he planned to do. "I still don't think I thanked you enough for that little video. Carol loved it. She came twice on my cock. It was a little vanilla for my tastes though. I think you should have let him fuck you in the ass. Unless you save than for someone else." He knew full well that it was him that convinced you to give anal another try. A bad experience when you were young had put you off it. The way Dave did it though...fuck. The first time, at your place, he shoved your favourite vibrator inside your pussy while he worked your hole open for him. The sound of lube and your own arousal echoed around the room as he pumped himself and the toy in and out of you.

Two large fingers gathered the incredible amount of excitement between your legs. Fuck that bastard and his effect on you. With all you skills, training, experience, you weren't some giddy little school girl with a crush but damn if Dave didn't make you feel like one. There was something about him that drove you feral. When it came to sex you only had about three rules. Always consensual. No one should get hurt. Not in public. You bent or broken all of those for Dave.

Hell, the first night this started in a too hot, dirty club, he made you come twice in public. The first time on his fingers in a dark booth, with his broad frame shielding you from dancing crowd. The second time on his cock in the alley outside. The smell of week old trash, among other things assaulted your senses. Oddly you could give a fuck, you just needed Dave so bad. He'd pinned you against the building. Cold brick bit into your skin as took you with groans and chants of "Yes, Baby." Once you were satisfied he pulled out and came over your stomach. It was dirty and beneath you. Yet you'd let him. It was scary what you'd let him do to you.

Like now, you could both get fired for this. If someone caught you with Dave's cock buried in your ass, your career would be over. His marriage would be done. You tried to remember if he had locked the door but none of it mattered when Dave pulled your ass flush to him, sinking deeper it, stretching you out, pushing up against your cunt from the inside. He bit your earlobe and whispered in your ear. "My dirty girl."

From there his lips left open mouthed kisses on your neck as his hands moved to you blouse. The ripped your blouse open then yanked down the cups of your bra. Dave pressed you further forward using where he was joined to you as leverage. Your nippled harden as they pressed into the cold glass.

"Shit, I should turn up the lights in here. Let him see how a you really need to be fucked. Let him see what you let me do to you." He groaned against your neck sending a chill through you. It had been minutes but Dave was already close. He hated how quickly you made him cum. He wanted to keep going to enjoy your body more, to cling to the precious time where you were his.

Your response of "Yeah, you should." sent electricity up his spine. Heat build at the base of his cock spreading through him, it intensified before rushing back to his cock and bursting out as his release. He held his softening length inside you, the last contractions of his climax causing it to twitch against your muscles. He couldn't even think straight for a moment. Every time he came with you it shook him to his core. It the haze you managed to slip away.

Having uncuffed yourself and sent Pencil Dick on his way, you returned to find Dave sat on a chair. He clearly just fallen back into it. His pants were pulled up, just about. The neat thatch of curls at the base of his cock peeked out. Even flacid he was still an impress size, you could see the outline of him clearly. Dave was always a little needy after you made him cum. This was when he was more likely to kiss you.

When feelings had got a little murky and you switched to hate fucking, he stopped kissing you. Which was a nesscary adjustment you supposed. It didn't stop you missing the warmth of his mouth, or the skill of his tongue, or the pump softness of his lips.

When you straddled him, Dave chased your lips. Teasing him you avoided them, brushing your nose against his instead before covering his lips with one finger. "You've been a naughty boy Dave. You didn't tell me you cleared this floor. You told them it was off the books work." Dropping your weight fully down on him he realised you had taken off your thong. You were now bare and wet, soaked his pants.

"I didn't know I could be as loud as I like." You started sweeping your pussy over his cock in steady motion. Even soft he was thick and heavy against you. Zoning in on your clit you ground down on him.

"So fucking bad for me Dave. Bending the rules. Bringing work into this. Fucking my tight little ass where we could get caught. And you loved it. It got you there in record time. Hard too, I felt how much your balls tensed before you filled me. I can feel you dripping out now Dave." The dirty talk was suppose to tease him was getting you closer to the edge.

"You saw an opportunity to fuck me and you took it. Flying me all the way out here. Ordering people to leave..." the though of him bossing people around got you so close ".....making excuses and leaving your little wife at home." The tension between your legs just began to snap as he spoke. "I left Carol two weeks ago."

The blood rushing to you ears made you feel like you had misheard. After you rode out your orgasm Dave lifted you up and placed you where he had been sat. He moulded his lips to yours in one simple kiss. "Now I can hunt you down to fuck you whenever I like." With that line he left.

[jujutsu-headcanons]

Gojo Satoru general headcanons

Let's get one thing clear: this man is absolutely chaotic. He is always full of energy. His energy levels never reach below 50%. He is loud and proud, always running, and never takes a minute to relax.

Do not give him Monster. Shoko did that once and it took her forever to get him off the ceiling. Also, avoid caffeine. Shoko replaces his normal coffee with decaf and he still hasn't noticed the difference. Keep it that way.

He was the class clown when he was younger. He wasn't exactly a trouble maker, but he may as well be. I cannot word that sentence and I am sorry. Next.

All of his teachers assumed he never listened in class, so they always called in him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. It still shocked them every time he rattled off the correct answer.

Not only did he answer the question correctly, but he could also explain his reasoning behind the answer, and if it was multiple choice, explain why the other answers were wrong. 

This tall man child would march up to the board and absolutely fill it to the brim with work, turn around, drop the chalk-like a mic drop and walk back to his desk with the smuggest look on his face.

That doesn't mean he did the work tho

Idk how schools in japan work but we all know schools in America only care about the amount of work you do and not what you actually know so we'll use that for the sake of the headcanon: he had straight D's bc he never turned in his work

Despite not doing the work snd goofing off, teachers actually really liked him

A lot of people liked him and he was super popular, but he still felt alone

Fake friends, you know how that works, he didn't meet any real friends until he became a shaman

Clean freak. This dude actually makes his bed. He scrubs his bathroom twice a week. His desk can get cluttered but he straightens up once a week. He's not exactly a germaphobe because

He cannot respect your personal space and that's actually canon but let me take it a step further 

He's a slapper. Especially when he laughs. It doesn't hurt, it's playful dw. He hugs you from behind especially when he's cold. He picks you up and carries you around. He will grab your wrist, arm, or hand and lead you around even if you're following him. He lays his legs across you or lays across your lap. Puts his head on your shoulder. Platonic cuddling between friends is mandatory. He's just so hands-on it's ridiculous.

Unless you explicitly tell him you're uncomfortable he won't stop

Don't worry, if you aren't in that type of relationship, your no-no square is safe. Except, if you seem chill, he will slap your ass regardless of friendship status. His ass is also slappable. You can't tell me Geto and Gojo didn't run around slapping each other asses, okay

He was weird and scrawny as a child. He didn't start beefing out until he started training to be a shaman and he's still kinda smaller than most beefy boys

He can pick you up and throw you around easily. He carried around a 170 pound Yuji like a sack of potatoes and can easily carry around three times that weight

It's amazing he's so tiny because you remember 2014 Shane Dawson making all of those wack ass desserts that was just s pile of chaos wrapped in chocolate?

He can eat every last bite of one of those monstrosities without getting a stomach ache, gaining weight, or dying basically

He knows bc Yuji dared him to do it

He has really cold hands and feet

He sounds old. Let me elaborate. He's constantly cracking his joints. They also creak when he moves. He complains about body pains like he's 80 y/o

He also shares wisdom with the kids as if he's actually 80 y/o

It's irrelevant advice that doesn't make sense but is also useful. Megumi can't count the number of times he's asked Gojo for feedback on his technique but had been told to remember to chew 40 times or never go to bed angry

Starts off sentences with "now son" and "when I was your age"

He uses his blindfold as a headband when he wants his hair out of his face. He also uses headbands as... Headbands... When he wants to wear sunglasses but get his hair out of his face

He owns so many pairs of sunglasses but he always wears the same pair

He's only bought a handful of them himself, most of them are gifts

No one knows what to get him for Christmas or his birthday bc he has everything, so they resort to sunglasses

His favorite pair is a pair that Shoko and Geto bought him as a gag. He thought they were dead serious, though, so he wore them around for a month

They were heart-shaped, rose-tinted glasses

Can you believe this man doesn't use any gel or anything to keep his hair spiky with the blindfold on? It just naturally defies gravity when the blindfold is on

Tell this man he's pretty because he already knows. He's narcissistic but not the cringy kind

Photogenic as hell. Takes great pictures from any angle. 

He gives everyone a different story as to why he covers his eyes. Sometimes he says it's because his eyes are too pretty and are a distraction. Sometimes he says it's because the sunglasses/bandages/blindfold look cooler than his eyes. Sometimes he says it's to protect the six eyes from seeing things he doesn't want to see. The world may never know

He's tried covering his whole face before, but he thinks he's too pretty for that. He at least wants one of his many amazing features to be shown at all times.

So about his driver's license;

He knows how to drive. He can be a good driver. When he wants to be. He just doesn't have a driver's license.

Now he TELLS people he just never got around to getting one, however, there's a rumor he lost it due to too many parking tickets

It's amazing the only tickets he's ever gotten have been from that and once he got caught without a seatbelt; he would have gotten out of that one if he hadn't been flirting with the police officer so bad

This doesn't stop Gojo from driving places though

He steals Ijichi's car a LOT and Ijichi DOESN'T KNOW HOW like??? The windows are never broken and it doesn't look hotwired-

Gojo has a key

You're not even supposed to be able to duplicate car keys but Gojo did 

Also; none of the first-year trio knows he doesn't have a driver's license, though that much should be painfully obvious

He whips around corners, speeds up at yellow lights, goes "watch this" and does a donut, it's just a mess

The poor students have to sit in the backseat too. Just imagine Megumi with all three seatbelts around him like that one meme.

He thrives off of Nobara and Yuji screaming from the backseat, and he can see Megumi being smooshed because he thought the middle seat was the safest through the rearview mirror

Which he doesn't even need because of the six eyes

Despite being such a reckless driver, he knows when danger will happen, so he's never once gotten in a wreck

He blasts the radio, which makes up for the driving.

Has a habit of getting in a car and ending up in the McDonalds drive-thru

Steals other people's fries and keeps the fullest one for himself.

He was rebellious as a kid and teenager, but hey, at least his juvie record is sealed 

He's been detained and in the back of a cop car many times, but the reason was never really bad enough for him to be arrested. Mostly he's just being mouthy. And the time he got caught spray painting on the side of a building. And that one time he and Getou hopped the fence to get into the local pool. And that other time-

It got worse after Getou wasn't around to get him out of trouble. Suddenly, breaking the rules wasn't fun anymore and he mellowed out. 

Tried alcohol and cigarettes before he was legal. Decided neither was his thing, however, he did start drinking occasionally when he was legal.

He's a fucking chaotic drunk. Oh my god he's absolutely feral

Most bars in the vicinity know him by name and they sigh whenever he walks in

Shoko is his emergency contact. She hates it

Shoko has to drag drunk Gojo home at least twice a month and is not happy about it

Once she left him in an alley. He made it home okay so she guesses it's fine

Once he got so drunk he spilled beer on his sock. The thought the fastest way to dry them was by sticking them in the microwave. Forgot about it until someone asked, "Who the fuck is cooking socks???"

I feel it important he was in the break room of the local grocery store and no one knows how he got there

As he was escorted out he stole a grocery cart and rode away in it while singing Don't Threaten Me (With A Good Time) by Panic! At The Disco

He has no alcohol tolerance at all what so ever

He will literally just stare at you and giggle

It's funny he's really flirty but also doesn't seal the deal. Literally, every woman in that bar is willing to get in his bed but he declines every offer. No one knows why

Its because he respects women

He helps his students break the rules as long as they're within reason. Once night Yuji was really hungry and after having a temper tantrum he couldn't order Uber eats bc the school is supposed to be secret Gojo helped sneak him out to get food. Who needs curfew anyway.

The shirts in his closet range from like twenty bucks to the iconic rich bitch shirt the kids ruined in that one chapter we all know the one 

He still wears that by the way, he calls it "art" 

When he was younger, Megumi drew a picture of Gojo being eaten by his shadow dogs. Gojo found it and now it's framed in his room.

He keeps up with current trends and memes like no one's business. This is how he bonds with his kids.

Don't call him old, but also, he'll tell you to respect your elders it's a mess

He has a lot of games on his phone. You can usually find him holding his phone sideways playing some RPG game he probably spent too much money on 

He did hop on the Pokemon Go hype train but after becoming overpowered he got bored

This happens to a lot of games. He pays way too much money, gets to be the strongest in the server, and gets bored

He likes games where you can kill other people's troops and likes to watch as they lose all their power

I canon him as being borderline sadistic

This is why he's Sakata Gintoki reincarnated

White hair, sweet tooth, black leather clothes, dad vibes, never takes anything seriously bc when he does he's scary as fuck, the works.

He is Sakata Gintoki

He liked Gintama growing up. He watched a lot of iconic shows as they aired. He considers himself an og

He's hella bilingual

Because he's the strongest he goes overseas for missions a lot. Because of this he speaks a lot of languages and knows a lot about international cuisine 

He takes pictures of himself eating disgusting foods like snails. He never likes them but he loves the idea of Nobara gagging back in japan

Has paperwork sitting untouched on his desk from three months ago that he will not touch for at least another three months

Does the crossword puzzles in the newspaper every week

Uses humor as a coping mechanism and it honestly just became a personality

Constantly popping his joints. I'm sorry if you find this gross I too find it gross.

Probably brought home every stray animal he ever met ever until he was at least like 22 y/o

Tags: @wasabito @kittaliapenn

[jungxk]

just one (viii)

summary: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem…until he set his sights on you.

notes: first of all i wanna thank the people who supported me and encouraged me through one of the worst writers blocks of my life. all the messages and comments are the reason why i finally managed to post this. special thanks to @whippedforkook for helping me with the monstrous tagging process as well as giving me so much praise. and also @lonelyending for cheering me on for a literal YEAR bc thats how long i cried over this fic! this story is so special to me. we’re in the home stretch now x

warnings: mentions of illegal drug use and distribution, swearing, brief smut.

genre: drama, romance, humour, college!au

wordcount: 8k

tagging: @cutechim @benz-biarritz @gyukult @bangulin @eatersanonymous @alyssa1926 @skivv1es @a-sucker-for-them-sappy-shit @moonights @jeymuffins @juuneaux @catsukiii @andreaisaac @whatheydontunderstand @sreveles @noruls619 @henryharios @just-a-fuxked-up-kid @befriendswithj @btsbesharam @poemsandpunani @taelha @misosoup-forthesoul @jikooksmut @heart-eyedmf @the-piano-woman @angrysunshine @chaoticpaperfanhoagie @jsungshine @ci-yen @faby-montana @shinypeanutsportshero @jooniestrivia @alucards-s @cynamyngirl @jiminie-angel @myskoova @jkshoneybuns @smokintae @remmykinsff @majinbuwu @jangx2manboongx2 @potatodogs @seul-queen @alpharyth @blenxxxg @plsky @th-singularity @bapbaptothetop @hermiones-enchantment @stomachfilledwithbutterflies @euphorora @supachloe94 @jiminxjimout @ggukkieland @just-another-fic-recs-blog @jalexad​

part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x

x

4 years ago

x

jimin hated yugyeom.

well, maybe hate was a strong word. he just didn't like talking to him, being around him, hearing his name or interacting with him on any level, social or otherwise. he really tried though, since he was one of jungkook's closest friends and still respectfully referred to him as hyung above all else. and if anything, jimin would always have a soft spot for jungkook, the kid he used to coddle when his own brother wasn't around. but having said that, there wasn't really much basis for not liking yugyeom. it was just a gut feeling jimin couldn't explain, a very subtle callousness about him only jimin could pick up on. for the most part he was just like very other mild mannered boy by day and party animal by night, but jimin still ducks when he sees him enter the library.

"fuck," he hisses under his breath, scooping up his laptop to stride behind a book shelf for good measure. because sometimes, contrary to popular belief, jimin wanted to be alone. he didn't want to make small talk or listen to someone tell him about how well they scored on their last paper or complain about their annoying girlfriend. sometimes jimin wanted to have no thoughts and listen to fleetwood mac as per his human rights. which is why he shoves into the first private study room he sees.

and not an empty one at that. there's a girl inside, sitting cross-legged in her chair at a desk with an array of dried up paint tubes and brushes surrounding open sketchbooks. you don't look annoyed or even that phased, just amused as you give him a once over before going back to painting. "on the run from solji?"

jimin blinks, back still pressed against the door. "huh?" he regards you properly. "i'm sorry, have we met before?"

"not really," you admit with a sheepish smile, which is when jimin suddenly realises that you're...attractive. "solji is in my stats class. you hooked up with her last week at some party and she told me about it."

"oh," jimin takes in your plethora of art supplies. "you don't look like a stem student."

there's a glimmer of something in your eyes, and though you hide it well jimin knows he's struck a nerve. "yeah, i get that a lot."

"it's not solji by the way," jimin clarifies. for some reason. "that i'm hiding from. just a bellend i don't have the energy for right now."

you smile. "it's fine. you don't owe me your life story."

"i do when i'm about to impose on your...study time," jimin peers through the window in the door, wincing when yugyeom enters the hallway. "what would it take for you to let me stay in here for a while?"

you pause for a second. "honestly? just be quiet and leave me alone. is that okay?"

jimin perks up, a weight leaving his chest. "perfect, actually."

x

x

x

[jungkook 11:42pm]: why does it say wings on it

[jungkook 11:42pm] where is it flying

[you: 11:43pm] ffs kook

[you: 11:44pm] im still on the toilet can u just hurry up

[you 11:44pm] grab some tampons too pls

[jungkook 11:46pm] fine what size pussy do u wear

[you 11:46pm] i hate u

[jungkook 11:53pm] ???? ? ? well? ????

[you 11:54pm] REGULAR 

jungkook giggles at his phone, already having left the women's sanitary aisle to grab some chocolate. months later and teasing you was still bundles of fun. he knew for a fact that you were sat there with that angry pout on your face, nose crinkled. he had never bought anything like this before, but jungkook had enough brain cells to know that chocolate was another necessity for that time of the month. after grabbing a large hazelnut bar, he pauses beside the oreos before grabbing a packet of those too. just for good measure. he strides to the self checkout - because even he wasn't man enough for the cashier yet - nearly dropping his array of sanitary products and confectionary when somebody calls out his name from behind the queue.

"kook!" the voice is unmistakably yugyeom's, confirmed by the hand that clamps jungkook over the shoulder and swivels him round before he could think about hiding his socially compromising shopping items. it takes a second for yugyeom to notice, doing a double take at the pads atop his small tower of goods. he holds back a laugh, balancing a bottle of gin in one hand while he waves back at some friends to continue. they were clearly making their pit stop before a night out, probably pre's if they still start as late as jungkook remembers. with his hair styled and expensive cologne lingering, jungkook almost forgets he probably looks unrecognisable in his sweats and cotton-fresh hoodie. friday nights weren't for cuddling. still, yugyeom's smile is welcoming and familiar. "got the munchies? and maybe also a uterus?"

"shut up," jungkook grumbles, averting his eyes. he shifts to his other foot uncomfortably. "my friend just needed a favour, that's all."

"uh huh," yugyeom gives him a teasing look. "is this friend the reason why i barely saw you at jin's the other week?"

jungkook blinks back at him. "wait, you were at that party? i had no idea!" a boyish smile breaks over his face. "why didn't you call me? i haven't seen you since-"

"minseok-hyung's new years eve party," yugyeom throws his head back with a laugh. "remember how we ended up on a boat after the ball dropped and-"

"spent all of new years day detained by the coast guard!" jungkook finishes with a mischievous cackle of his own, nearly dropping the tampons in the process. "fuck, that was so much fun! we need to meet up again, i haven't been out with the guys in so long."

"well no wonder," he quips a brow at jungkook's shopping again. "word got out you're a family man but i didn't believe it. until now, that is."

jungkook's smile falls. "what do you mean?"

yugyeom looks at him for a second, confused by jungkook's surprise. yugyeom was never quite as diplomatic as namjoon or yoongi, to put it lightly. and definitely nowhere near as accomodating as jimin. which is why his next words make jungkook's back stiffen. "bro, look at yourself. you got dairy milk in one hand and tampax in the other. on a friday night. the next time i see you i wouldn't be shocked if you had a baby buggy and a mortgage." still, yugyeom throws him an apologetic look. like a mouse caught in a trap. "face it, kook. you're old news."

"what? that's not true," his brows furrow unhappily. "i don't know what you're talking about. it's not like she's my..."

he can't say the word, but it hangs between them like a dead weight.

"yeah, right," the condescending look on yugyeom's face was starting to agitate him. "you totally blanked us at jin's after she showed up. not even just jin's..." he thinks twice about holding his tongue, but as always, decides against it. "i don't know you, jungkook. whoever this new jungkook is. it's been months. you used to hit us up and be independent and spontaneous and wild and now you're just...someone's boyfriend.

"stop fucking saying that," jungkook snaps, all visible signs of friendliness gone.

"why?" a beat. "do you even use a wrap with her anymore?"

jungkook splutters, heat rushing to his ears and hands in a stinging combination of anger and embarrassment. "how is that any of your business? the fuck are you asking me something like that, as if you-"

"thought so," yugyeom looks away from him with a sigh. if anything, yugyeom knew never to overstay his welcome but that clearly backfired tonight. "whatever, jungkook," he looks over his shoulder at him. "guess you're the last one to find out you're officially married."

"you're ridiculous," jungkook scoffs. "all this over condoms? grow up, yugyeom."

"only couples do it raw," yugyeom turns away from him, alcohol in tow as he waves a hand over his shoulder to join his friends like jungkook was nothing but a lost cause. "you would remember that if you still had game."

jungkook stands there, dumbfounded while the group of boys exit the store noisily but he can't hear a thing. the siren that had been itching the back of his mind all this time was suddenly there at full force, right between his eyes. the glaring truth that yugyeom might be right makes his knees buckle. all those rules jungkook once had, all those measures he kept in place to protect his liberty, to prevent this very occurence - where were they? what happened to them? as the sweet and accommodating counterpart to jimin, why had you never complied? though, the blame wasn't on your hands alone. he got complacent, comfortable. lenient. and now without even realising he was here, a scene from a romcom in the middle of the night, with nothing to say for himself but fuck. the realisations wouldn't stop racing, one after another on the conveyer belt of his anxiety.

the photos on his phone; mostly you. time spent, usually with you. the portfolio for his latest photography module also had some resemblance to your interests. charcoal pencils, night drives, orchids. like the ones you always drew on any scrap of paper lying around. now that he thinks about it, he's seen nothing but your orchids for months. and not just that - you wore his clothes sometimes too. his bathroom had your toothbrush, contraceptive pills and coconut shampoo. his closest friends, his hyungs...not one of them was devoid of affection for you. he wasn't even confident that if the choice was presented, they would still pick him over you.

by the time jungkook finishes paying and practically sprints to his truck in a daze, he can hardly keep himself from shaking. he palms the wheel compulsively, he could feel the sweat in his sideburns, hoodie suddenly suffocating him. it smelled of you.

and then, like a final curtain call: was he just your latest fixer-upper project? some good girl wet dream to play out in the wake of your emotionally traumatic past? a slap in the face to seokjin, maybe, and nothing more? when you were done, when he was out of your system, when you knew his taste by heart and had nothing new left to try - would you stay? did you even know how to?

did he?

jungkook starts the engine. he drives to your door, drops your bag of snacks and pads on the porch, and texts you before leaving. he does not go inside.

x

x

x

"you sure you'll be okay with just the boys?"

you scoff at seulgi when she pins you with a worrying look, taking some of her clothes out of her bag to re-fold them just so you had something to do with your hands. jisoo had already left for the long weekend with her family, so there was no one there to fill up the empty space between your awakward reply. you didn't know how to tell the girls that jungkook hadn't contacted you in nearly a month. and even though he was a notable flight risk from the beginning, you couldn't help but feel like there was hostility there. every now and again he'd at least send a nude or have a quick phone call when he was drunk or high at three in the morning, but you hadn't heard a peep from him. you couldn't stand the idea of someone you cared about harbouring comtempt for you, but the fear of reaching out and somehow making the situation worse outweighed it tenfold. 

you look up to see seulgi still staring at you with concern. "of course i'll be fine! they're boys, not piranhas."

"at least piranhas contribute our ecosystem. boys just cause problems for the hell of it," seulgi lays a hand on the crown of your head like a berating big sister, swivelling you to look at her in your fit of giggles. the urge to nestle you under blankets like a baby bird made her chest heave, and you could tell. "i'm serious. if jimin tries anything, call me immediately okay?"

"jimin?" you snort. "out of a room full of delinquents, my ex, and taehyung, you're worried about jimin of all people?"

seulgi wrinkles her nose. "god, when you say it like that its like i'm throwing you to the dogs." she pauses. "something's up with jimin. i don't know what it is, but he's...off."

you tilt your head innocently, remembering the brief interaction you had with hobi at seokjin's party. you had been so caught up in jungkook - or lack thereof - you hadn't thought to press him about it afterwards. in truth, jimin remained as...jimin as ever. if he was acting differently you certainly couldn't tell. "you think so?"

"mmm," she leans on the lip of the open suitcase thoughtfully. "but maybe with jungkook there, he'll behave himself."

you gulp, fiddling with his watch on your wrist anxiously. "maybe."

x

x

x

you nearly yelp when you feel a big hand swivel around your waist, bucking into the kitchen counter reflexively. jungkook always did this before rubbing his boner against your ass, but the light scent of citrus and short squeeze lets you know immediately that its taehyung. hoseok, jimin, namjoon and yoongi were still in the living room playing video games, giving taehyung the perfect opening to intercept you. namjoon and yoongi had insisted that you come over to their place after finding out you'd be alone for the weekend, and you had completely refused before taehyung's coaxing. and of course, jimin's persuasive nudging. even though you felt safe and relaxed here, it felt wrong to be in jungkook's friends' place without him. almost like a breaching of an unspoken boundary.

and clearly, taehyung picked up on your discomfort by the way he stared at you so softly. his back was to the sink, his sillhouette particularly long and lean this evening. "you need to lighten up, princess. you keep looking over your shoulder so much it's making me nervous!"

your visibly droop with a sigh. "i'm sorry tae. i've had a lot on my mind lately, and..."

he claps his hands on your shoulders, teeth peeking through his grin. "you're not doing anything illegal by being here without jungkook."

you wince at his name. "have you always been able to read my mind like this?"

"absolutely," taehyung's brown eyes look so rich up close. "you're allowed to have friends that are also his friends, because - and try to stick with me on this - relationships between people are allowed to be independant from the primary circles they met in. mind boggling concept, i know."

you wack him on the chest until he laughs. "stop making fun of my anxious thought processes! its called mental illness, sherlock! i can't help it!"

his nose scrunches cutely, enjoying your first fiery outburst of the day. "whatever. i call it not getting laid for a month and losing critical thinking abilities from it."

you gape at him indignantly while taehyung roars with laughter. "you're such a dickhead," you hiss through gritted teeth, yanking his hair and jabbing your fingers in his sides the way you would with jimin during a tickle fight. "whores have feelings too, taehyung! whores have feelings too!"

you both fall about with laughter, knocking over half the snacks on the counter in the process which only makes the pair of you laugh even more. it's such childish chaos trying to clean up the mess on the tiny kitchen floor that neither of you notice the front door open, or the gust of metaphorical and literal wind that follows. watching taehyung trying to salvage a bag of broken crisps is just so funny that the presence of an another voice in the living room goes unregistered, as do the footsteps leading up the hallway to the kitchen, so you have no time to brace yourself or properly pull yourself together with you see-

"...jungkook."

yours and taehyung's heads snap to the doorway. jungkook stands there with almost complete lack of emotion on his face to the pair of you kneeling in crumbs and napkins. there's a brief pause where the tension in your eye contact alone was so strong that it felt wrong to breathe. but it is shortlived. jungkook tiptoes over you like spilled milk, reaching for a glass of water. you and taehyung lock eyes while the tap runs in the awkward silence. "hey. you okay?"

"um," you're not sure whether to stand up, hug him, look at him, or even face him. "yeah! yeah, i'm fine."

he nods politely. "hyung?"

even taehyung looks visibly uncomfortable. "i'm good."

"cool. see you later," he says, downing the glass impressively fast before leaving the room just as fast as he entered it.

you and taehyung stare at each other again, not understanding why you both feel like kids caught eating cake before dinner. you could feel the sweat pricking at your back from the realisation. jungkook had no idea you'd be here, and given that interaction he'd probably want to leave now. there was always the inkling woven between his radio silence that he was done with you, but you never let yourself take it seriously out of logic. because how could months of passion and tenderness and honesty be undone so irrevocably like that? it didn't make sense. you hadn't changed. you were the same girl he hit on relentlessly and chased against all odds. so what was different now?

"____," taehyung calls your name gently, and it's only then you realise you're already up and trailing after jungkook into the living room. when you walk in he's already putting his shoes on to leave again, barely making eye contact with you while he chats absently to his hyungs so he can look busy. the four boys on the large sofa can only reply wearily, eyes darting between the pair of you like a firework was about to blow to soon. and it was.

you could feel it in your throat, under your breast bone, bubbling up your stomach. "wait, jungkook. um...h-how have you been? i haven't heard from you in-"

"i've been good," he keeps tying and re-tying his laces without looking up. "super busy. you know how it is."

his curtness makes you flinch. this same time last month jungkook used to kiss you senseless before he had both feet in the door. he'd ring the doorbell incessantly like a child and greet you with the biggest, toothiest grin you had ever seen. he'd make fun of your bed head and squeeze your cheeks until you'd snap at him. and now when he looked at you he hated every second of it. your mother had the same look. your eyes start to burn involuntarily. "yeah, i do. how is uni? your final project is due soon, right? what theme did you pick in the end?"

"the one i told you about," he stands up abruptly. "sorry, noona. something came up. i'll see you arou-"

"something came up?" you step closer to him. "something came up the second you saw my face? or did you really just trek all the way to your hyungs' place for a glass of water, jungkook?"

jungkook stiffens, but is determined not to lose face. and it's difficult to do under your big, accusatory eyes and jimin's death stare at his back. the whole room was waiting for his response, so he just shoves his hands in his pockets resolutely. "i needed to see yoongi hyung, but i can come another time."

you fold your arms. "well it's clearly important, and you're here now. so don't let me stop you."

"but you will stop me," jungkook snaps. "that's the problem."

"kook-ah," yoongi warns quietly, but he took one look at your face and knew the damage was done. jimin was already standing up, circling around the back of the sofa towards you. the red lights were all there; your watery eyes, your trembling hands. every breath you took looked difficult for you to complete and only jimin noticed.

"what are you talking about?" you squint. it takes you a second to understand; yoongi's guilty expression, jungkook's indifference. "oh, you're fucking kidding me." your resolve breaks for a second turning away only to glare back at jungkook with so much fire you can hardly stand it. "you're selling again? are you insane, jungkook?"

"see," jungkook's eyes are stony. "i knew you'd get this way."

"what other way am i supposed to get?" his lack of response only infuriates you more. it felt disrespectful. "jungkook, you're not a kid anymore. if you get caught with drugs the consequences are serious! forget the potential jail time, you could get kicked out of university, it would go on your record forever and-"

"stop talking to me like i'm a kid!"

"then stop acting like one!" you hate raising your voice, but it keeps climbing without your approval. "did you think about this for even five minutes? this isn't like just going to juvie like before and being done with it jungkook. your hyungs can't bail you out of everything."

"this is a lot of talk for someone who lapped up those fancy paints without a second thought," jungkook says darkly. his eyes aren't like you remember, his face solemn and near unrecognisable. "or did you think that getting that kind of money overnight is only something that's possible through daddy's credit card?"

dread blooms like a garden inside you. "that's...that's how you bought the paint set?"

"welcome to the real world," he quips. "as if selling overpriced weed to a bunch of pick-me-freshmans is considered a crime against humanity to anyone but you."

"you think that's why i'm yelling at you right now?" your voice was growing hoarse, desperate. "you think that's the problem i have with you being literal drug dealer, jungkook?"

he hates it. the sweltering silence, the judgmental eyes digging into his back, the slow realisation that the tears in your eyes were not at him but for him. jungkook's ears ring enough to make him sway on the spot if his feet weren't planted so firmly on the dingy carpet, this metaphorical ground. he couldn't shake the feeling that his lifestyle was only an issue now because of you, how he never felt a shred of guilt about any of this shit until he met you. and if there was anything that jungkook never responded well to, it was pity. and he could feel it from every person in the room, all people that that once cherished and coddled him until you came along. he swallows, throat dry from the way he couldn't look at you knowing what he was going to say next.

"you're embarrassing yourself, noona. you're not my girlfriend and you never were, so stop acting like it."

cotton. it's very faint, under the layers of conflicting cologne and beer and smoke, but jungkook still smelled of cotton while he spat acid. nobody could speak, even though jungkook never raised his voice let alone a hand to you, it still hit like a slap in the face. it sunk into the walls, your clothes, suddenly every hair on your body felt heavy with it. dirty. the shame came first, the humiliation next. and then the sorrow, the dread, and finally the defeat. you knew the stages well by now, and they were cycling through you like clockwork. how foolish you were, to make the same mistake again. nobody dared to move, everyone but jungkook staring at you in denial and horror. they couldn't believe their eyes when you nod steadily, bowing your head to the floor.

jimin is already slotting himself between you, his jaw tight. "that's enough, kook. just leave already."

"no," you stop him, unnervingly resigned. that single word cuts through all six men with ease. "he's right." you step around jimin, closing the space between you and jungkook. for a brief moment he wonders if you'll actually hit him, but somehow watching you unclasp his watch from your wrist and drop it on the coffee table in front of him is far worse. the sound seems to ring like church bells, definitive and umistakable. "you're right, i'm not your girlfriend. you win jungkook."

they all watch you leave in dismay, listen to the door closing softly behind you. within a second jimin sprints after you, calling your name, leaving everyone else dumbfounded. jungkook's stare could bore a hole into the abandoned watch on the table, still ticking away like nothing changed. like his eyes weren't burning, lightheaded at the realisation that he would never wear a watch again let alone the one he put on you.

x

x

x

to an outsider, you looked like you were coping well considering you just got dumped in front of all your friends. but jimin knew that face. your stony eyes, lips pulled thin as if to seal inside the collapse of a monument. you took the tea he offered, and then his arms, your face finding his chest with ease. muscle memory. his torso was a tad shorter than jungkook's, his heart closer to your mouth as if the steady thumps were asking for a kiss of acknowledgement. every time you close your eyes you could see jungkooks face, hard and unforgiving and nothing like the man you trusted all this time. but it wasn't a new expression; you parents looked at you similarly the last time you saw them. it was the look of someone who had no regrets cutting all ties. and now, jungkook was behind them in a lost list of people who chose to be strangers over loving you.

jimin sighs when you cry into his chest, brushing the back of your head gently. he had been ready for this for months, but he still hated to see you this way. again. it made his bones itch, his skin crawl uncomfortably every time you weeped. the only time he considered violence was when you were crying. but he knew what to do, laying down across the sofa so you could curl up into a ball next him, head on his bicep and face smushed into the crook of his shoulder. you used to cry like this for hours and hours, his arm familiar with the prickle of pins and needles. but it was the only place you felt safe. tucked into jimin's side is where you would always belong, and that truth was more glaringly obvious than ever now.

"lets get something to eat," he offers eventually, hand craddling the crown of your head like a child. jimin's other hand on your hip is warm and heavy when he pats you soothingly. in your episodes, you responded well to touch. "what about thai food?"

"not hungry," you grumble against him.

"we could make something together?" he peers down at your lack of response. "come on, babe. you gotta eat something. you didn't even have breakfast-"

"why am i so stupid?" you whisper, a fresh bout of tears welling up.

jimin rubs your thigh. "it's not your fault."

"yes it is. jungkook gave me plenty of red flags, and i ignored all of them-"

"oh, i meant you being stupid."

you scoff. "cheers."

"what?" jimin cocks a brow when you lift your head to look up at him. he wets his lips and you follow the swipe of his tongue thoughtlessly, distracted enough by his touch and proximity that you take a second to digest his words. "it's not like any of this exactly came as a surprise. you ignored me, remember? wanted to flex your big girl pants."

you pull away from him and sit up, forcibly shutting out the daze that jimin routinely puts you under. "what's wrong with you? can't you be polite and wait for a couple hours before laying into me like a normal person? jesus, jimin."

"so let me get this straight," jimin sits up, watching your back as you sit away from him. "you're mad because i'm not telling you what you want to hear?"

"no," you say, head shaking. "i'm not mad. i'm upset because i came here to be comforted by my friend and you're just making me feel worse."

"what do you want me to say, ____? that i had high hopes from the start?" jimin pushes his hair back, brows now at a sharp incline from frustration. "i told you starting something with jungkook was trouble but you didn't listen. why should i feed your victim complex when all i've done is try to help you?"

"victim complex?" you repeat, standing up slowly. the sudden steadiness of your voice causes jimin to panic.

"not like that. don't take it like that, it's just," he's suddenly before you, his warm hands palming up your arms warmly. "i didn't wanna see you get like this and it happened anyway, is all i'm saying." he sighs when your scowl doesn't let up. "if hobi hyung hadn't have given up so easy, then maybe…maybe this would never have happened. maybe if i had been harsher with him then you would have-"

"what are you talking about?" you ask quietly, searching jimin's face. "give up so easy? what's that supposed to mean?"

he looks away, hands slipping off you. "it's nothing."

"jimin."

he struggles to look at you, tongue in cheek. his lips purse for a moment, pink like roses. he's wearing that navy jumper you like. "look, it's not a big deal. he wasn't supposed to fuck you or anything, just take you out for a while. get your mind off kookie, show you a nice time."

your blood runs cold. "what?"

jimin's expression softens. "it's not as bad as it sounds-"

"really?" your voice is sharp, sharper than he's ever heard it. you recoil as if you had been struck for the second time today. "because it sounds like you asked some guy to keep me occupied like i'm a fucking dog. all because you can't stand the idea of me being within a meter of jungkook-"

he steps in, but you step back. "you know that's not true, _."

"don't i?" you scoff, covering your face in disbelief. "jimin, you've been hellbent against me even looking at the guy since day fucking one."

"because i didn't want you to get hurt!" jimin counters, eyes downcast. "i know, okay? i know how much of a dick it makes me sound, but its not like it hurt you when you had no idea! hoseok broke it off before you even knew about it so why-"

"because it's worse," you turn away from him. "you tried to control me. choose what's best for me because you think you know better than i do. sound familiar?"

his jaw sets, and it's like you can hear the twine snap in his head, the percussion of his heartbeat above yours even though he doesn't close the space between you. jimin stares at you for a long minute before drawing in a thin breath. "fine," he steps in, and you can't look away. "you want me to say it? fine. i'll say it."

suddenly the air is lace thin around you as you stare at him, waiting. jimin looks off somewhere else, somewhere you can't reach. "don't tell me you haven't thought about it, because i know you have. if i have you must have too. and lately its all i can think about - being with you, holding you, being the one who gets to touch you. and yeah, maybe it took having to see you with jungkook for me to realise how much i want all that, i put my hands up. but you have no idea what's it like to watch the person you love most get toyed around with by a time bomb like that. i've seen jungkook go through girls like underwear and i love him, god i love him, but even the idea of you being one of those wasted girls sitting outside a party crying over his sorry ass makes my fucking ears ring."

"j-jimin…" you whisper, but you have nothing to say. your hands shake.

"you deserve more than that, ____. you deserve more than waiting around for booty calls or living up to what the next guy wants. from jungkook, hoseok, anyone. you deserve someone's devotion and yeah, maybe all this time i've been too much of a pussy to give it. maybe all this time i was tiptoeing around my feelings for you because i knew if i admitted to myself that i loved you - if i admitted i was just like every other guy - i'd actually set the bar for something other than disappointment. id actually have to step up, and i didn't know if i could do it. i still don't. but if it has to be someone…it should be me."

suddenly he's holding your hands, calming the tremble that rattles them. his words bunch up together in your ears, the meaning lost amidst your awe. "jimin….jimin what are you saying? where is all this coming from, i don't...i don't understand wh-"

"i'm saying," he cups your face. "choose me." he pulls you in. so, so close. "choose me, not jungkook. not anyone else. me."

and there's a part of you that has already caved. that's already kissing him, melting into his arms like you've wanted to for so, so long. you're falling back onto the couch with him in a fit of giggles, curling back into his chest to hide your watery eyes, asking him why the fuck he took so long. you chat together between teasing kisses, pour your hearts out, maybe cry a little. later you would make tea and order pad thai and watch the office all night and fall asleep together in the living room well past dawn and then-

you close your eyes. "i can't."

"you can," jimin says, so passionately you shudder. his brown eyes are teaming with too much determination and ardour for his own good, and you both know it. its difficult to grapple with how huge a risk he's taking, because jimin never takes risks. it made the whole situation seem dire. "you know you can, ____. it's us. there's no one like us."

you don't know how you're not crying yet. you only have jimin to hold onto, hands balled in his shirt without knowing if you're about to push him away or pull him in forever. "maybe back then. maybe if you'd have said all this before," you feel empty, the beat of your pulse suddenly strong in your fingertips. "but it doesn't matter anymore."

he shakes his head in denial, his determination palpable. "of course it does-"

"i'm in love with him," you say. to jimin. to yourself. to the world, finally. "i'm in love with jungkook." holding jimin's stare isn't as difficult as you thought it'd be. "you know if you'd have done all this a few months ago…if you'd have just...i was always yours without question, jimin. and you knew it." it's his turn to bristle under the strain of your voice. "jungkook isn't perfect. i'll be the first one to admit that. he's made me cry, he fucks up, he makes mistakes. but he's never lied to me. he never made decisions for me. he never passed judgement on what i should or shouldn't do with my life. something that i never thought i wouldn't able to say about you, too."

there's a brief moment where everything stops. neither of you can believe what you just said. jimin watches you, frozen in his place as you take your bag, eyes glittering with tears when he calls for you. suddenly he's the time bomb he feared becoming, the panic in his eyes lighting them up like fire crackers. for the first time in his life, he stumbles over his words, and then his feet when you reach for the door, all composure lost. he was unravelling like a tapestry in front of you, never to be repaired, and he could feel it. "____. ____, please," jimin chokes, his cheeks blotchy. "i wanted to protect you, i was just trying to help. don't go. please don't go. i was trying to help you."

"no. you were trying to have me." you say, closing the door behind you.

x

x

x

you have no idea what time it is when you hear the bell ring incessantly.

it had been hours since you'd returned home from jimin's, but there was no way for you to keep track when your only priority was just keeping yourself afloat. you turned your phone off, drew the curtains, and resolved to alternate between sitting in seulgi and jisoo's rooms until they came back. you didn't know what else to do. when you weren't crying you were hyperventilating, and when that stopped the absence of emotion was so powerful you could barely keep your eyes open. you were exhausted but could not sleep. starving but could not eat. it was a miracle you even made it down the stairs, using what little strength you had to yank it open without even thinking about who could be on the other side in the middle of the fucking night. but at this point, you would gladly take a serial killer over jimin or jungkook.

"taehyung," you breathe when you take in his face, relieved. you must look like absolute shit because he scans your face and winces. 

"jimin told me," he says, the apology in his voice and expression was almost painful to register. "he told me everything. ____, i'm so sorry. i should have told you about the hoseok thing, i just thought it would be worse coming from me, and then i tried to force jimin into confessing but then he didn't because he's jimin, and now-"

"you're only allowed to come inside if you stop apologising," you say weakly, voice haggered from the hours of crying.

taehyung's pouty expression almost makes you smile with how cute he looks, gingerly stepping over the threshhold. "i really am sorry though."

"for what," you say monotonously, closing the door behind him while he takes off his shoes. "my inexplicably terrible taste in men? my uncanny ability to get manipulated by literally anyone who shows me a scrap of affection? or my absolutey shredded-to-shit attachment style thats barely intact let alone functioning healthily? after hoppping between the first two for a few hours i'd personally go for the latter. but whatever."

"please shut up," taehyung sighs, bringing you into his arms before you could have a second thought about it. "you need to amp up the misandry in this context. a lot of this had nothing to do with you and everything to do jimin and jungkook."

you're too tired to open your eyes, snuggling into the softness of taehyung's chest. you’re too exhausted to argue. "where did you learn the word misandry? have you been reading?"

"yeah," you can hear his big, pleased grin. "i know you and the girls have been calling me a himbo behind my back."

"affectionately," you add, peering up at him. he wipes the wetness off your cheeks, moving upstairs to your room with your hand in his. he fetches you a glass of water before putting you into bed like he's paid to do it. taehyung was the cuddliest person you had ever met, but you had rarely seen him dote on anyone. "girls love himbos. it's a compliment."

"not all girls," he mutters when he returns from the bathroom with a glass of water. "drink this, would you? you look so dry it's making me itchy."

you do as he says with a roll of your eyes. "what do you mean?" you finish your water with a big gulp. "jisoo loves dumb guys, what are you talking about?"

taehyung looks away from you, bottom lip rolling up under his teeth so fast you barely catch it. he pulls up your desk chair next to your bed, thinking long and hard before meeting your eyes again. "i don't mean jisoo."

you don't understand at first, but after staring at his face for a long minute your stomach drops. "don't. don't you fucking dare," another beat of silence. you rip the covers off you to scamble to your knees, grab your pillow and hurl it at taehyung's head. "taehyung, please don't tell me that the one remaining, healthy relationship i have with a man has also been shot to shit because i swear to god i'm gonna-"

"it's not a big deal," he says firmly, and he really does mean it. taehyung catches your wrists when you lunge at him, effectively ending your outburst before it can begin. he keeps hold of them while he stares into your eyes, watching the way they fill up with a fresh bout of tears. "i've had a crush on you for a while, so what? it's not anyone's business but mine so don't worry about it."

you try not to scream at him. "how long?"

"...since the start." he shrugs. "it's not like i could have done anything anyway. with jimin around. he’d never have it."

"but...! but..." you splutter, the highlight reel of your friendship suddenly marred before your eyes. "but you let me talk to you about boys! you gave me advice with hobi and jimin and jungkook and...! you encouraged jimin to confess to me. and the whole thing with jisoo?"

he wets his lips guiltily. "jisoo is a nice girl. i like her, but...not like you. i've always liked you."

you shake your head in horror, your face crumpling. bile rose in your throat. "so all of that...playing with my friend like that. was just to get to me?"

"listen to me," taehyung says firmly, gripping your wrists to make you look at him again. he's so close you can feel the warmth of his breath on yours, and you never realised how large taehyung's torso was compared to yours before. he could have smothered you, but he didn't. in all senses. "the way jimin and jungkook handled their feelings is on them, just like how this is on me. it doesn't matter if i'm fucking you or not, you're my friend and i'll always want people to do right by you. and that includes me."

there was nothing else to say, so taehyung wordlessly wipes your face again and fetches you more water before retreating to sleep on the couch downstairs. all the while you sat there in your bed, confused and bewildered and thoughtful. the same bed jungkook fucked you on. the same bed jimin held you in. out of all the men in your life, taehyung was the only one who treated his feelings for you with reverence. there wasn't one interaction you could think of where he made his feelings clear, where he even hinted towards wanting something more. if he hadn't have said anything tonight, in the wake of one of the most emotionally tumultuous days of your life, you would still be in the dark about it all. and that was the scariest part. you didn't know anyone else who hadn't let their feelings for you effect how they treated you. so ultimately, it was possible.

and jimin and jungkook chose not to do that. but taehyung did.

taehyung did.

when you finally pad downstairs after hours of ruminating, jisoo's bedroom door is wide open. and that's who you should be thinking about now - your friend and sister jisoo - as the sky begins to lighten with the signs of morning. you hadn't slept for over twenty four hours, you were hungry and thirsty, delirious from the whirlwind of losing the two most important men in your life in one day. but still, you are drawn to taehyung. taehyung, who never asked anything of you. taehyung, who was as silent as he was selfless this whole time. taehyung who routinely put what he wanted aside in favour of what was best for you. taehyung, who protected you without needing credit or recognition for it. taehyung, taehyung, taehyung, taehyung, taehyung-

"taehyung," you whisper scraping your nails through his hair. his eyes fluttered open, twisting his head to face you as you hovered above him. he could barely see you in the darkness. "taehyung, wake up."

"what is it?" he croaks, sitting up with half-lidded eyes and a yawn. he doesn't know how to read the expression on your face. he swings his legs off the sofa in a sitting position, wearing nothing but his boxers and tee, visibly alarmed. "what happened? are you okay?"

you take his face in your hands and kiss him. 

taehyung stiffens against you, breath drawn thin. you pull away to gauge his expression, desperately searching his eyes in the darkness. for discomfort, disapproval, anything negative at all. the absolute ardour you find instead could knock you down if taehyung didn't reach for your neck, kissing you again. you whine at the feel of his tongue, having no idea where such sudden and intense arousal was coming from. when you pull away with shaky limbs, you climb onto his thick thighs so he can feel your wetness through his boxers. taehyung grunts at the sensation, and again when you kiss him passionately and without abandon. the sweet girl every guy he knew was agonising over, suddenly in his lap. he's barely had his tongue down your throat for ten minutes and you're already rocking into him, his erection betraying his resolve.

it's better than he dreamed. 

"taehyung," you gasp, palming him now. he groans when he pulls away to look at your mouth, glistening with his saliva when you take his hand and guide it down to your arousal. "please."

[neko-rogers]

72 Hours

You only have 72 hours to detain Steve Rogers. He’s the only opportunity you can get to find out what happened and why half of the population mysteriously disappeared.

word count: 3,168

tags: eventual dark!steve rogers and non-con; however, none much in this chapter but plot and interaction

    Things escalated so quickly.

    Ever since half of the world population had suddenly disappeared, which left fewer people walking around the streets of Manhattan, your job had become stressful yet so useless. The rest of the investigative crew are close to giving up and adapting to what has been left.

    Meanwhile, here you were. Neither convinced nor ready to accept the fact that most of your friends and family have vanished.

    Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months. By now, the withdrawal is coming close to a year and a half. Yet the clues you have gathered merely comprises for a month of effort.

    “You should be giving up on this already.” Two of your colleagues walk behind you, either of them comforting your bothered state by rubbing your back as a gesture to cheer up. The hint of hopelessness in their tone bothers you more than their initial intention.

    “I doubt you will be solving one of the biggest mysteries of the world yet,” they state with an implication of humor before pulling back. From the corner of your vision, you could see their jackets folded neatly and hung on top of their arms. Just as their uniforms remained pressed, it conveys that they were already prepared to check out of their shift.

    “But hey, if you do solve it, let us know. We’ll be more than supportive and grateful for your efforts, Agent.”

    “Thanks. I hope so,” your voice was soft, resisting to show any sign of weakness or vulnerability despite on the verge of breaking down on the inside.

    Within a few minutes, the office was left noiseless. Most of the officers who had day shifts proceeded to depart by the hour until you and two others have remained.

    For you, it did not matter whether you got paid for overtime from your original schedule. Since you did not have anyone to look forward to when coming home, you preferred to spend most of your hours at work, searching for a way to somehow bring them back.

    The chances were so odd and slim. The fact that all your families and friends near your location were wiped out. You could not do anything since you did not know who caused all this disaster, let alone the reasons behind the disappearances.

    As your elbows were resting on top of your desk, your head fell onto both your palms. A big sigh was released from your lips countless times already. This wasn’t just getting lonely anymore, you were obsessing over something that was far from your reach.

    The plain screensaver of the bureau’s logo was dancing over your desktop. Along with several pictures, specifically one or more for each member of the well-known extra-terrestrial fighting group of Avengers. Their superhero names were scribbled with red ink and pinned onto a small corkboard.

    Tony Stark.

    The name haunted you to your dreams. The billionaire who brought good and bad things into New York City.

     You are not entirely sure why your guts were forcing you to focus on this man amongst the rest of his alliance. But you were just desperate to cling onto any evidence blindly hanging in front of you.

    For the entirety of the event, you haven’t had a single report about him. Assuming that he’s been trying to hide from this mess, you tried contacting other bureaus from across the world in search of the man. For months of being very pushy, you have only been getting the same phrases like a broken record.

    ‘I’m sorry, Agent.’

    ‘No. We haven’t had any reports about Tony Stark.’

    ‘My crew has been trying their best, but there aren’t any traces of him.’

    ‘We assure you we’ll find him sooner or later, Agent.’

    ‘Please be patient, we don’t have much manpower here anymore.’

    For months, you have been at the edge of your seat. Eager to answer the phone at the first ring. If it’s not considered patient then soon enough it’s going to run out. You did not know what backup plan you have once that does happen though.

    Maybe going crazy would ironically be the sanest thing to happen.

    Nevertheless, you will eventually cross that bridge when you get there. For now, the only option you have is to overwork yourself to the edge of insanity.

    “A long day you got there, Agent?” A subordinate of yours passes by with two cups of coffee in her hand. She sets down the other right beside your computer screen and glances at the pictures splayed across your work area.

    You groan, a frown still evident as you sat up straight before replying, “Oh tell me about it, I’ve had the longest year.”

    She gave you a warm smile, like always around this time of evening. Though only being hired recently after a month of the mysterious disappearing arc, she continued to attend to her shift and adapt as the others would. And despite almost a year of greeting, and often bringing you a cup of coffee, you never really gave any of your attention to her.

    This time though, you looked back just as she was about to leave. You were quick enough to get a glance of her name plastered on her identification card connected to a lanyard that draped around her collar.

    Agent Maria Hill.

    “Agent Hill,” you addressed her. She turned around with a smile, looking neatly as ever with her hair combed and pinned in a neat bun.

    “Yes?”

    "Thanks for the coffee, like every night." Your gratitude combines with a warming smile that reaches out for her. Though appearing exhausted from staring at a screen and documents for hours, you tried to look your best when facing her.

    "It's no big deal." Her reply trails down to murmur a few indistinctive words that you merely brushed off, assuming that it was nothing but a nice gesture.

    Before her figure could entirely exit the vicinity of your workplace, you swiftly chirped, "And thanks for being so nice to me!" A chuckle was heard from her, leaving off with a smile as she walked away without responding anything in return.

    Immediately, your mood shifted again returning to your usual distressed state of mind.

    The coffee you drank earlier was wearing off from your system. You could drink the cup your colleague had offered, but you figured it could not do much now that your body could only harbor caffeine to such an extent. A twelve-hour shift with merely half an hour of lunch break would not leave you, or anyone, at best. By sooner, your eyelids were getting heavy, risking to doze off at work.

    Your fingers reached to move your mouse, dragging the cursor along with the useless mail your inbox has been receiving. Each of them took that least bit of hope of finding Stark, making you feel caged and haunted every day as there is not any progress in a year.

    Again, you groan, louder this time. Other agents around could have heard you yet shrugged your frustration casually since they have witnessed it for months. You ball your fists and slam it against your desk, rough enough to make a sound echo throughout the room, but not enough to break it into two.

    “Fuck, I need the rest,” you admit to yourself.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

    24 hours

    Days have passed. Like usual – nothing.

    As always, your routine started just as you were walking to the agency. However, amidst peacefully walking at the pavement, trying to get even a hint of peace of mind, the phone tucked inside the pocket of your jacket started ringing.

    The name of your agency was the first thing you have noticed as you faced the small screen. Moreover, you did not hesitate to slide the green phone button to answer.

    “Hel–”

    Just as you were about to offhandedly greet the person at the other line, they made their way to cut the conversation fearfully.

    “They found him! They found him, Agent!” The fearful yet impressed tone was evident, and eventually, you realized that the familiar voice belonged to Agent Hill.

    Nonetheless, your mind started wandering to different scenarios, jumping to conclusions like a kid. Despite barely hearing anything other than they caught someone, you were sure looking as joyful as ever. It was as if every bit of hope you lost each week have been restored.

    For a short while of daydreaming, you have recovered quickly. Moreover, inquire about the context of what she’s trying to refer to. “What do you mean you’ve found him, Hill?”

    Your heart raced quickly. The tension behind finding out who it was was far from the reality of it being a pause for mere seconds.

    Please say you have found Stark. Your mind could only pray harder for those words to be repeated from the other end of the call.

    “The team found one of the members of the Avengers,” she answers.

    “Which one of them?”

    “It’s Steve Rogers.”

    Your world partly crumbled after hearing a different name compared to what you were expecting. Nevertheless, happy enough that you were progressing on the vision you have laid out.

    “Hold on, I’ll be at the station in a few minutes.” You assert, turning around the corner of a street you were approaching. From here, there was a fair five-minute jog until your office. Considering that it was early morning, you did not hesitate to start speeding your pace.

    Right now, as if things escalated so quickly

    Once you arrived, you passed vacant offices until reaching the interrogation room. The other officers were gathered outside it, facing the two-way mirror that displayed the known Captain America.

    Maria Hill was standing closest to the mirror. Getting the best view of the super-soldier sitting peacefully inside the room. You approached her with a confused look upon your face.

    “How did you even find him?”

    “It’s a long story, there were two of them though we could only catch up with Mr. Rogers,” she explains.

    “Alright.” You motioned for your other colleagues to return to their original tasks. Both you and Agent Hill were left, given privacy to talk about what should be done.

    “Give me a moment with him, I’ll try to see what information we can get.” Agent Hill nods at you and hands over a folder. She gestures for you to take a step inside the room and reassures that she will be outside to act as a witness.

    As you enter the room, it felt colder in addition to the resentful stare coming from Captain America himself. His gaze does not leave you, following your trail up until you reach the metal chair and take a seat in front of him.

    Your back begins to sweat even after barely interacting with him. You did not know what could happen. For all you know, he could rip his handcuffs and beat your face over the table.

    Nonetheless, you tried to look as assertive as possible. Adjusting your posture to feel comfier in your seat and clasped both palms of your hands over each other. You look in front, seeing the man still staring at you.

    You took a deep breath to prepare yourself “Nice to see you in Manhattan again, Mr. Rogers.” Your voice was close to breaking, but you disregarded it. This is your nearest encounter with a superhero, so it would be normal for anyone to feel pressured.

    The soldier raises one eyebrow at your greeting. He pulls back and slumps on his chair, acting as if he’s the one probing the detainee. “Been keeping track of me, ma’am?”

    The tone of his voice instantly became cocky. Even so, smirking while his gaze shifts from the floor and back at you.

    “I have been keeping track of the Avengers for these past months,” you affirm. To prevent a boost of ego in his system, you also added, “But I wasn’t specifically keeping my eye on you, Captain.”  

    He imitates an offended look, placing one of his cuffed hands over his left chest. “Ouch. Was expecting a pretty woman like you tracking down America’s Golden Boy.”

    “Nonetheless, do tell me which one of us were you looking for. Is it Stark?” You tried to ignore his mood swings. The sudden change of being quiet, then proceeding to act hurt, and now seeming provoked even if you had not given any answers yet.

    You figured it was best to ignore his question.

    “Mr. Rogers, may I know what you were doing here in Manhattan and who you were with–”

    “I asked you a question first,” he reminds.

    “Look, sir, I don’t think it will help if I’m the one answering questions here,” you sigh. “So if you could please cooperate with us.”

    “Cooperate? Why would I?” He scoffs. “You can only detain me here for seventy-two hours at most. Considering that you have no evidence against me, you can only hope to pray for a miracle.”

    His attitude was not at all welcoming. Your blood started to boil at the man seated in front of you, acting as if he is completely innocent about all this.

    “Is it true that you aren’t withholding any information about the disappearance of half of the world population?” You argue with a brow raised at him.

    “I know nothing,” the man answers.

    “And if you do know something, that’s obstruction of justice. You know that right, Captain?”

    He smiles faintly. This time he breaks his stare, looking at the floor while answering, “Yes I do, ma’am. Very well.”

    His expressions were starting to drive you crazy. You were used to this kind of scenario back when things were normal. Though after the events transpired, it has been a year without you interrogating someone who was held inside this room. You’ve gotten subpar upon looking like an intimidating officer.

    “Okay then.” You nod, “Can you explain to me why you and your accomplice tried to run away from the cops.”

    “We didn’t,” he said, ever so boldly. “Your friend, over there, spotted us and tried to cuff us immediately. Which one of you thought that was a good idea?”

   Your gaze follows onto the large mirror placed near the door of the room. You could only see both you and Steve Rogers, but you knew Agent Hill was at the other side listening to your conversation.

    “Look, half of the population mysteriously disappeared,” you sigh in between, “it’s not something a normal person would be able to perform. Can you blame us for following up on the Avengers?”

    “I guess not then, ma’am.” He nods, accepting your statement. “Still won’t change the fact that I have no idea about all these disappearances, yeah?”

    “Right, then tell me who were you with before Agent Hill decided to detain you here.” You lean back while crossing both your arms against your chest. Your teeth lightly bit the insides of your cheeks as you tried to hold out a frustrated sigh.

    “Well, I was with Nat,”

    “Nat? Natasha Romanoff?” You raise your chin, intrigued to find out more. “Five-foot five, Russian assassin, shoulder-length vermillion hair, Natasha Romanoff?”

    “That’s impressively accurate.” Steve Rogers chuckles in front of you again before adding, “Except that she’s blonde now.”

    You tried to take in a few minutes to grasp the information. The silence prods through your thoughts as you analyze the possibilities, perceiving that maybe, just maybe, you’re a few steps closer to Tony Stark.

    But the man disrupted your thoughts, “Still don’t know why you’re holding us custody despite all this. You won’t get anything, might as well cut to the chase.”

    “You’re quite a smart-mouth there, Captain.”

    “And you’re quite eager to find about Stark, Agent,” he mocks. You throw your head back in defeat. This was going nowhere and both of you knew it.

    Instead, you push against the table so you could finally stand up. You rest both your palms flat against the cold metal table, arms stretched wide to balance your weight out.     “I think that’s enough for today.” You grab the untouched folder before turning to your side to walk towards the door. “Thank you for trying to cooperate with us, Mr. Rogers.”

    As you head out, you noticed that Agent Hill was already out of sight. She most likely headed to do her job rather than to stand and watch you and Steve exchange nonsense.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

    As you get home, you dressed into casual home clothes and headed to bed.

    You could not entirely fall asleep. The super-soldier was stuck in your mind, frustrating you into the depths of it.

    You tried to ponder, grabbing the folder of compiled documents that Agent Hill handed you over earlier. As you opened it, the first layer of it was pictures of Steve Roger’s face throughout the week. You guessed that they were not just trailing him today, but also studied his moves for the past week.

    Furthermore, you flipped through pictures of him and his crew, but they looked like they were not in taken in New York. It was dark and the faces of Steve, Natasha, two other persons in the background could be seen fairly.

    “Huh.” You furrowed your eyebrows realizing that there were more details about them that you expected. For a while also wondering why Hill did not updated you about these at least.

    But eventually you acknowledged that you were so busy figuring out information about Tony Stark, that you forgot that the other superheroes he has worked with were just as significant.

    Steve Rogers. Natasha Romanoff. Sam Wilson.     Location: Edinburgh, Scottland     21:32. April 2018

    Steve Rogers. Natasha Romanoff.     Location: Manhattan, New York     13:05. October 2019

    His beard remained almost the same despite the year difference. His golden hair was brushed backed sleekly. His appearance was still alike a year ago which meant that he was trying to maintain that kind of appearance

    Compared to his clean, shaved aura back in 2012, you can admit that he looks way more intimidating now. You did not know whether he was trying to look different to prevent the bureau from recognizing him or if it was because he wanted to look like some creepy degenerate.

    Nonetheless, there were a lot of questions running around your mind. It was only tonight when you finally got to grasp on who and what you’re dealing with.

    However, your comprehensive scanning was interrupted after hearing a tap on your window. It did not sound as terrifying as it would, but it was loud enough to interrupt your thoughts from getting further.

    In the end, you set the files on top of your nightstand and switched on your lamp. You lay in your bed, eyes sealed shut yet your mind still wanders off, trying to fit together the pieces of the puzzle.

    When drifting to sleep, the most evident question strayed:

    Why was Steve Rogers, and his team, staying in Manhattan, despite hiding completely undisturbed in Edinburgh?

[backalley-requests]

The Proposal | Chapter Two

The Proposal Masterlist

Summary: The Proposal™ au, where Ivar gets swept away in a lie about a fake engagement to stay in the country and needs to convince everyone (including his family) that he’s genuinely engaged to a woman he works with

Warnings: Mild swearing, dickish behavior

Word Count: 2,085

That’s how you found yourself sitting down for a meeting next to your boss, pretending the two of you were in love and set to get married. You were more outwardly nervous than him and your leg was bouncing. It made a quiet but consistant tap on the floor.

“Will you cut that out,” Ivar snapped.

You stopped bouncing your foot and glared at him. “I’m nervous.” It wasn’t a voluntary action but it helped with the nerves. Your head tilted up to the ceiling. The office was small and the two of you sat in chairs next to each other. Across from you was an empty desk. The case worker wasn’t here yet. Was this normal? It was 10 am but felt much earlier, and the silence was so loud. The two of you never had normal conversations.

“Don’t be, it’s annoying.”

Did he expect you to remain a calm worker under these conditions? It wasn’t like he could fire you. Both of you risked losing if you didn’t stick around. It felt like a sick game of chicken. “How can I not be? We’re here because you—“

The conversation was cut short by the metal door opening. It felt like a prison, as if the two of you were being detained and Ivar didn’t even want to discuss a game plan. He had actually rolled his eyes when you asked for one.

The man was dressed in a black suit and tie, his hair was short and his face shaven. “Shall we begin?” He lacked pleasantries and it only added to your growing paranoia. There was no handshake or introduction. The man jumped into it. Immediately you felt yourself zoning in and out. Half the time you were thinking too much to listen and the other half was spent committing it to memory.

Ivar nodded confidently, evening out to a neutral. How were you supposed to project that same level of confidence? He appeared so unbothered and you stuck out like a sore thumb. The interviewer took notice. “Step one will be a scheduled interview and I’ll ask you every little question a real couple would know about each other.”

That was easy. You already knew way too much about the man. He shoved off too much personal responsibilities onto you that he didn’t want to do. You even wrote his Christmas cards at this point.

“Step two, I dig deeper, I look at your phone records, I talk to your neighbors, interview your coworker.”

The two of you didn’t have a story. The two of you communicated often for work but they weren’t out to anyone. Well— technically the two of you didn’t have a relationship to be out about. You glance over at Ivar who didn’t bother to look back at you. He seemed so eerily calm while all you could do was panic.

You were pretty sure you missed something important by the time you glanced back to the interviewer. Did you miss his name? Did he even offer one? Your leg began to bounce again.

“If your answers don’t match up at every point. You will be deported indefinitely,” he looked at Ivar, “and you will have committed a felony. Punishable by a fine of 250,000 dollars and a stay of 5 years in federal prison.” His gaze turned to you and you froze.

The sound of your heart beating drowned out whatever the man said next. It didn’t take long for both men to notice. You were in too deep. You couldn’t do this! Why did you even bother agreeing?

“Y/N?” The interviewer asked.

You couldn’t handle prison. You never even got into a fight before in your life. You’ve seen prison shows, they’re always fighting. They’d eat you alive.

“Y/N, do you want to talk to me?”

Ivar elbowed you harsh but discreetly. His blue eyes were intense and it brought you back to your reality. You had already spent three years working for him. Another two at the company. Being fired wasn’t an option and you’ve been dying to get promoted since you came there. If you could pull it off... what’s three years on paper? You blinked and nodded your head.

“You do?”

“Wait no— I mean I don’t.” You took a deep breath and held it. This man had to see right through it from the moment he walked in.

“The truth is…” you glanced at Ivar, “we’re just two people who weren’t meant to fall in love. But we did. Six months ago. We weren’t going to come out to our coworkers, not until we didn’t think they’d judge us,” your face was red and you found yourself staring down into your lap as you played with your fingers. “Especially with my promotion coming up.”

You paused, trying to see if what you said convinced him at all. “So, have either of you told your parents about your… secret love?” The interviewer wrote down notes onto a notepad.

“Oh, um, impossible. My parents are dead,” you admitted casually with an awkward laugh. “No brothers or sisters either. You can check if you want—“

“I will.”

The silence was deafening.

“What about you, Ivar? Are yours dead?”

Ivar scoffed at the mention of his family. It was clear to you that on some level he truly thought he was above being here. How could he be so casual?

You decided to cut in, “no. We were going to tell them this weekend. It’s his father’s birthday. The whole family is coming together. We thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

Once the lies began it was hard to stop them. But the event was true but Ivar’s attendance wasn’t. He had you tell them he wasn’t going. But as you spoke you got more confident.

“And where exactly is this going to take place?” The man was quizzing you.

“Aalborg, Denmark. It’s located along Kattegat Bay,” you replied. Ivar’s face twitched in surprise that you knew it at all. Your face never quite calmed down and kept a pinkish hue.

The interviewer stared intently at you, searching for signs.

“That’s right,” Ivar cut in, trying to save you.

“Isn’t Denmark a little far?”

“Well it’s not like I have a visa to lose at this point,” Ivar rolled his eyes.

The interviewer shrugged. “Next Friday at 10am, I expect you both to be here for the scheduled interviews.”

—

“What was your fucking problem? You may as well have worn a sign that we’re trying to commit a felony?”

You were floored. Did he actually want to start things off like this. “Like you were much better? You looked pissed off and detached! If you wanted better results maybe you should’ve interjected more.”

“It was fun to watch you flounder until I realized your actions have consequences,” he shrugged casually. What was wrong with him? “And now Mr. Harold Millington is going to be lurking through my family.” Oh that’s what the man’s name was. Had it shared that? Did you actually miss it?

“Just tell your family then. Have them lie.” If they were anything like Ivar then being manipulative should be in their nature.

Ivar rubbed the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “They wouldn’t agree to it.” It meant they had to go. That created the new fact that you had sentenced the both of them on a trip to Denmark. It was that or he gets sent home forever and you’re in federal prison. “How did you even know that?”

“Know what?”

“About my father’s birthday.”

“You had me send them condolences,” you crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes. “I actually know a ton of things about you. It’s you who has a week to learn everything about me.”

He stood before you in his bitterness. He didn’t deny your statement. It was one thing to have marriage papers and never speak of it again for three years and another to pretend to his family that he was in an actual relationship. His mor had wanted it forever now. “Book the flights, since you’re so used to doing everything for me.”

You had a laundry list of people to contact and he expected you to book flights? Your gut instinct was to tell everyone the truth and convince them to lie to the authorities, but that seemed a little much to ask. “It’s your home, why don’t you book them?”

The two of you continued to bicker when the interviewer from earlier stepped out of the building. The two of you immediately silenced as Millington walked by, “remember. Deportation and federal prison. It’s not too late to come clean.”

The smug look on his face pissed you off. You watched the man walk further away and down the block. “I may not like you, Ivar, but I like you more than that guy,” you said bitterly as your eyes remained trained on the agent in the distance.

“At least we agree on that.”

“I want him to feel like a moron.”

“So then let’s do that,” Ivar’s words caught your attention as you glanced back to him. “He knows the truth but if we make it rock solid he’ll have no choice. It’ll drive him insane.”

You laughed, “I probably should’ve guessed your favorite pass time was belittling people and making them regret their life choices.”

“I liked you better when you just delivered coffee,” Ivar responded. The same anger from earlier was gone but that didn’t stop Ivar from starting to walk away from you. You were left standing, irrationally angry at that decision. Civilities were out the window. He had nothing over you anymore. Neither could pull the plug. And he’s been on your nerves for a while. How did you ever find that man attractive?

“Goodbye to you too, asshole!”

—

“I’m coming back for the week,” Ivar held the phone to his ear, waiting for his mother’s response. If he was being honest he was actually a little nervous about it. He actually loved his mother. The rest of them were hit or miss. But he hadn’t been back home in a long time.

“Really?”

The excitement in her voice got to him, not that he’d confess it. “I was going to introduce my girlfriend to you guys.” He hated lying.

“You have a girlfriend?” He hadn’t even mentioned the idea of one to her in forever. Not since he left Denmark for the last time. She’d been pestering forever. “Since when did you get a girlfriend?”

“Mor—“ he took a deep breath and sighed, “she works for me.”

“Oh— so it’s one of those situations.”

Was she judging him already? “Just be prepared for her.” He noticed the dip in her voice and he bit hard on his bottom lip.

“Your father is going to be so happy to have you home.” Aslaug started to talk more about it. He was surprised she wasn’t fuming at the mention of his old man. It occurred to him then that maybe his family missed him more than he realized. She was already making plans, doting on him for finding someone and talking about how relieved she is that her son found someone. “Hey Ivar— is she beautiful?” He was brought out of his thoughts by the question.

Were you? He already knew the answer. You were. It wasn’t a crazy thought. Ivar always thought you were beautiful. From the moment you walked into his office the first day holding a cup of his favorite coffee— how you ever found out before meeting him he’ll never know. It’s what told him you were beyond him. There was a hint of too much perfection that he had immediately felt anger. That anger eventually settled to annoyance.

But if he actually hated you he probably would’ve fired you by now. The issue is that you’d never genuinely go for him. He had his own love life of sorts, money speaks for itself, he could get laid. What he couldn’t get was more, who would genuinely date him? It was easier to resent than pine.

“Yes.”

Aslaug laughed on the other end, “you took a little long there to respond, Ivar.”

“Sorry— she is, mor, I’m just busy with some work. I’ll call you before the plane leaves.”

“Please do. Oh, and Ivar, dear. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

—

Taglist** @youbloodymadgenius

[fluffbyday-smutbynight]

About the discourse on gender/orientation discrimination in Italy

I've pondered a lot about writing something on this topic. I'm hardly an expert and I'll fall short for sure, and I don't even know if anyone cares.

The thing is... I feel like the outside perception might be a bit skeeved (correct me if I'm wrong). We've had some relevant pieces of media achieving international success (e.g. Call Me By Your Name), and I'm really chuffed that Måneskin are becoming some sort of queer icons - but please be aware that we (as a country) have a looong road ahead.

And while I don't feel much equipped to open up a debate about it, what I'm not seeing on my dashboard is any mention (especially not in English) of this speech, which rocked the boat quite a bit here.

So, the least I can do is trying to translate it at the best of my abilities, just to give you an idea about what kind of mindfuckery we're going through.

Some context:

a law against discrimination is currently being discussed in Parliament. Copy-pasting from here:

The Zan Law aims to contrast all discrimination and violence on the grounds of sexual orientation, gender, gender identity and disability. Numerous artists, social influencers and personalities from the world of show business, in particular the famous rap singer Fedez, have spoken out in favour of it, pointing the finger at the Right League (Lega), which has repeatedly blocked its agreement.

Fedez (sidenote: while his music is not my cup of tea, he's a brilliant businessman and activist imho) has been invited to the big music festival we host every year for the 1st of May - which is televised by RAI, the public national broadcast (more specifically on the RAI3 channel). His speech was deemed controversial and "inappropriate" by the RAI higher-ups, but he chose to speak anyway.

Here it is, under the cut, with a few thoughts about it.

(TW: mentioned homophobia)

" When I got on this stage they asked me: “1st of May: tell us about a first time” - and indeed today has been a “first time” to me.

It’s the first time I’ve forwarded a speech for approval by political institutions; approval that was, unfortunately, denied at first, or better said: the RAI3 top management asked me to omit names, to omit political parties, and to sugarcoat its contents.

I had to fight a bit (a lot) but in the end they allowed me to speak freely.

I take full responsibility and all the consequences of what I’ll say and do; however, be aware that this speech’s content has been described, by the deputy manager at RAI3, as “inappropriate”.

[t.n.: talks briefly about the show business jobs crisis due to the pandemic and the need for welfare and reforms, as it’s the national workers' holiday]

Now comes the stronger stuff; that was just the “pre-approved” part of the speech.

A couple of words about the man of the hour: Ostellari (t.n: Lega Nord and Senate member). So, he sanctioned that a law proposition by the Parliament (therefore the utmost expression of the people, already approved by the Chamber of Deputies) like the Zan Law could have been blocked by one individual’s attention-seeking, e.g.: he himself.

After all, Ostellari is a member of a political line-up which has stood out, over the years, for its battle against equality.

If I may, I’d like to recount some of their “aphorisms”:

“If I had a gay son, I’d burn him in a oven” - Giovanni de Paoli, Lega Liguria regional councillor

“Gays? Let them start behaving like normal people!” - Alessandro Rinaldi, Lega councillor in Reggio Emilia

“Gays: victims of nature’s abomination” - Luca Lepore and Massimiliano Bastioni, Lega regional councillors

(they’ve co-written that one… wondering what they could come up with, each on his own)

“Gays are a tragedy upon reproduction and the conservation of the species” - Alberto Zelger, Lega town councillor in Verona

“Gay marriage leads to race extinction” - Stella Khorosheva, Lega candidate

The last one… this one… there’s a touch of fantasy in there (laughs):

“They give injections to babies to make them gay” - Giuliana Livigni, Lega candidate

Somebody, like Ostellari, has said that we have more pressing priorities in this time of pandemic, as compared to the Zan Law. So, let’s take a look at these priorities. The Senate hasn’t had time for the Zan Law because they had to discuss:

wine labeling

the CONI (t.n: National Olympics Committee) reorganization

the bilingualism compensation owed to the cops in Bolzano

...and, just ‘cause we lack for nothing:

restoring the pension to Formigoni (t.n. former president of the Lombardy region, found guilty of corruption and now detained under custody)

Therefore, according to Ostellari, Formigoni’s pension is more important than protecting everyone’s rights, and the rights of those who are discriminated against on a daily basis, even to the point of violence. ,,

---

I don't quite know what to make of this, guys. It's disheartening, really.

It's sad that, in the year 2021 a.C., we have to fight nail and tooth for a damn anti-discrimination law (to have it approved and to have it discussed in the first place. But I guess wine labeling is paramount).

It's appalling that all the quotes mentioned above are coming from "legit" politicians who are in charge of public institutions, and from a political party which has been sadly gaining consensus over the last years. (and I'm not even getting started on their racism. The Lega, simply put, is fucking fascism).

It's unbelievable that a private citizen, albeit in the public eye, like Fedez has had to fight for his freedom of speech. There's a recording of a (quite heated) phone call between him and the RAI management, where they basically try to exert censorship on his words. Idk, maybe I'll try and translate that one, too.

... I'll see myself out. Thank you for reading.

[hesagentlelman]

Rook JP Cappelletty Fanfiction

Love the way you lie

Okay, I'll give you a summary. Basically Rook has been in a toxic relationship with a girl for six months now. Colson and the boys have noticed and are trying to get him out of it. These fics are an English translation of my fics in Wattpad. If you like them I have some more focused mostly on Rook. I accept suggestions uwu

Rook has been in a toxic relationship for over six months, and Colson knows it. At this point he doesn't know what to do, he has seen his best friend get slowly destroyed by the girl he is with. He started out with just dark circles, bags under his eyes that made it clear that he was not sleeping well, or nothing at all. He later found out for himself that Rook's girlfriend kicked him out of his own home in the middle of the night because of jealousy. She let him sleep in the garden even when it was raining. That had led to Jp spending more time sick than healthy. Him suffocating in the middle of playing a song because he was so sick that he couldn't even breathe normally. With coughing fits that made he looks like he would choke. They had all told him to come home and rest. He had insisted on staying. Kells didn't understand why and over time he understood that he would rather be away from home than be with her. So ... why didn't he leave her? For some reason he didn't dare to ask him and just tried to help him from the distance, thinking that he shouldn't get into it, that he would do better for his best friend if he didn't get in straight. He couldn't be more wrong.

Then one day he had to pick up Rook from a park in the middle of Cleveland at three in the morning and take him to the hospital. He said that a drunk man had thrown a bottle at him and that he had been unable to dodge it. Colson knew he was lying. He knew that it had been his girlfriend. He didn't say anything and just drove, took him to the hospital and waited patiently. They had to suture a wound that covered his left temple up to his eyebrow and he lost 30% of his vision in that eye. Then, back in the car, he burst into tears. Kells didn't know what to do, he couldn't just sit back and watch that harpy tear his little brother apart. But he didn't know how to get into that problem without causing more damage.

Rook stayed that night to sleep at his house. Colson did not sleep. He watched him while he slept. Somewhat creepy but he just couldn't stop looking at him because it seemed like it was the first time he slept in a long time. He felt guilty, because he was just standing there and watching him burn.

After that night he began to see Jp less often and when he saw him he did not look like himself. He looked like the most tired person on this earth and looking into his eyes was almost painful. Colson had never seen such sad eyes. It hurt, it hurt because Rook, his Rookie was the happiest, most active and jovial person he had ever met and at this point he was not a shadow of who he really was.

Everyone had already noticed. They had talked about his girl, how sad and destroyed he looked. Baze had told them that he had heard his girlfriend yell at him for spending more time with them than with her. Tell him that he didn't love her and that he was a bad boyfriend, that he was mistreating her and that he didn't deserve someone like her. Rook had simply apologized, he had promised her that he loved her and that he would do anything for her. Rook definitely didn't deserve someone like her. That girl was a witch. (cof cof Bitch cof cof)

However none of them did anything. They stood there, watching him burn.

The few times they saw Jp he was completely different. He cried with songs and with movies and at that point none of them dared to laugh because they simply knew that crying had nothing to do with the movie. They tried to comfort him but none of them really got in, to stop what was happening in front of their eyes. Colson dared to ask about their relationship shortly after Rook passed out from exhaustion in the middle of a hangout. But he didn't get to ask beyond "How are you doing with her?" or How's your relationship? " and his drummer always answered a " good " that sounded as harsh and bitter as a stab.

Then Rook started arriving with injuries. He started with a pair of broken fingers and he said the wind had closed a door on his hand. Just a few weeks later his nose was broken and he said a book had fallen on his face. He forced a laugh and said "trouble of being short." And within a month he had a black eye, the same one that he had lost part of his vision of. And this time he said that he had accidentally opened one of his kitchen cabinets on his face. The boys looked at him, none of them believed it and they all knew that it had been his girlfriend who had closed the door in his hand, who had thrown that book against his face and who had hit him by opening one of his cabinets uncarelessly out because of her jealousy.

The situation was getting more and more difficult. Now in the sixth month, Rook had just had his fourth anxiety attack in their short time in this month. Slim had gone with him for a walk when his breathing had calmed and he had stopped shaking like a frightened dog. Baze and Kells had stayed there, talking about how far this had come. That's when Colson decided that he couldn't just stand there and watch him burn, he walked over to the couch and took Rook's phone, thanking he had left it there and discovering that he didn't even have a password on it. A part of him wanted to believe it was because Rook expected one of them to try to help him, but deep down he knew it was because his girlfriend was checking his conversations and everything he did. Colson discovered under Baze's watchful eyes that Rook, or rather his girlfriend, had deleted all the female contacts from his phone, even Casie's was not there. What kind of upset jealous was that girl? Finally he reached the WhatsApp messages and there, the first on the list was her. Kells began to read the messages aloud.

- Where are you? - It's her two days ago. - Kells house, recording. - Rook's answer. - You prefer them to me. - She adds. - I've only been away from home for three hours- Rook answers. - You don't take care of me like before, you don't even call me queen like you did before, why don't you love me anymore? What did I do? You are always with your friends and you are no longer with me - Colson continues to read her messages. - I love you more than anything, honey. But I really have to record - Jp responds. - It's a lie, you're so mean to me, I hate you so much! - They are pure written messages, but Colson knows that Rook is blaming himself for that. - My sunshine, no. I love you, I love you very much. I'll be back in an hour I promise. I'll make you dinner and we can watch a movie together. Whatever you want ... - Rook is too good for that girl. She doesn't reply anymore until yesterday. There is a similar conversation that lasts to this day. Now there are a lot of messages from her that Jp hasn't even answered, possibly because they are from when his anxiety attack started. Yet there they are - Jp Where are you? Did you change me again for your stupid friends? You prefer them ... You are horrible ... You don't deserve me ... - She starts and Colson and Baze want to hit her even though they would never hit a girl. - Answer me! Are you with another girl? Is that? I hope you die! I hate you! Do you want me to end my life? You know I can't live without you! I told you! You will make me kill myself! I'll kill myself if you let me! - The messages end there. Now everything makes sense. Now they know why Rook wouldn't let her. She threatened to kill herself. Possibly that girl was so crazy that she was capable of doing it just to fuck the crap out of the boy. Baze and Colson are feeling sick. They know they have to do something, because at this rate it is she who will kill Rook.

- We have to report this - Baze begins. Colson knows that he is right. - She is hurting him, physically and emotionally. That is full-blown abuse. - Baze adds. And yes, he is right. But it is quite difficult to assimilate that one of them is in a toxic relationship of that caliber. More Rook, the good and pure boy Rookie. -We only have the messages, how can we show them how fat this is? -Colson knows how bad the police work, no one will believe them if they say that a girl is mistreating her boyfriend. They will think the opposite is the true and could get Jp in trouble. - I have photos of injuries from the last few months. Well, Instagram stories, but I think it will work. Also, they just need to see him, he is clearly emotionally devastated. - Baze adds and nothing more is needed to convince Kells, they both wrap up warm and send a message to Slim telling him what they have discovered and that they will report. They asked him to keep Rook out of the house until they return because they know he will not want to report his situation. Slim responds quickly, wishes them luck, and finally the boys leave. They drive in Baze's car to the nearest police station and wait until they are attended. It is a bit difficult to explain the whole situation to the agent, why they have the phone of his friend and since when he has been going through all this. But when they say the girl's name, the policeman's face changes. Apparently it was not the first complaint that they received about her for abusing her partner physically and emotionally. But there had never been enough evidence and everything had been up in the air. But now, this was the fifth report to her name and they had clear evidence of psychological and physical abuse. The agent promised them that they would send a patrol to arrest the girl and that she would be temporarily detained as alleged guilty of domestic violence on charges of physical abuse and emotional abuse. That didn't sound like a total victory, but the agent promised them that justice would be served, but by law they had to investigate a little more, that they would need to speak with Rook and take testimony from the neighbors.

Kells and Baze returned home, informing Slim of what had happened. Slim and Jp arrived shortly after they entered the house. Colson handed the phone to his drummer and the brown haired boy looked at him confused. -You don't have to go back to her, it's over ...- It was Slim who said that. Rook looked at them all, a hint of fear on his face that vanished when Baze gaves him a comforting smile. Then he burst into tears, Colson hugged him first and then everyone joined the hug. -I thought it would never end ... I was so tired of her shit ...- Jp starts crying, but he's smiling. - Fuck ... thanks ... - Rook ends. At least it's good to know that he himself had realized the toxicity of his relationship.

Ah well it's over XD. If I'm honest this occurred to me listening to Eminem and Rihanna's song "Love the way you lie" but it is quite based on what happened between Jhonny Depp and Amber Heard and also on the post that Melissa Benoist made about her relationship with Blake Jenner. I guess you all know about Johnny. As I know that Melissa's case is less known, I will explain a little, although you can look for her post with the full story of what happened. Basically she was married to Blake (she is now divorced and recently had a son with Chris Wood, with whom she has been in a relationship for a while) the fact is that she had a toxic relationship with Blake and he abused her physically and emotionally. One of the most serious things he did to her was smash a phone in her face. She lost part of the vision in that eye and now has a mark on her iris and pupil, although she had always said that she was from birth until she recognized everything that happened not long ago. Well, the point is that I relied on these two relationships to write this. I mean I wrote this out of respect for these people and for everyone who is or has been in toxic relationships. I've been to one myself. Well that's it. Thanks for reading and don't get into relationships with shitty people. Bye!

Pd: English is not my native language, I have a good level, but you may write something wrong. I apologize if there is anything wrong.

[makarov-my-beloved]

Watch Dogs: Legion x AmRev

@burgoyned Chapter 6 pumped out in an hour lol. Not sure if it's any better but feel free to share your thoughts ^^

Chapter 6: Keep Calm and Resist

André sat in front of his computer browsing through the information from the damaged Spiderbot. As he sat there pondering, Howe and Burgoyne chatted about the easiest road leading to Royal London Hospital. After hearing about increased Albion security in the streets (i.e. more fighter drones patrolling the streets), Bagley suggested a more covert way of reach the destination. “Best case scenario would just take a taxi there so that way you won’t be under the radar,” he said as he closed the map. “I’m up for whatever. You wanna come with me, André?” Howe asked the hacker. André shrugged. “I guess. I’m finding some disrupted data that needs to be cleaned up.” “I can take care of that,” Bagley chimed in. Howe looked at his phone. The time reads 10:15 PM. “If we head there now, there shouldn’t any workers present. Most likely security guards, but they can be taken care of.”

“Ok. We’ll be off. Don’t do anything stupid, Burgoyne,” warned André. The playwriter held his hands up yet said nothing. Both André and Howe left the Safehouse and walked into The Earl’s Fortune where they found the pub mostly empty except for a few patrons sitting at the lounge smoking and chatting. Clinton sat at the bar with Hanger discussing current events. The bartender looked up and smiled. “Y’all out for a night exploration?” “Of course. London looks beautiful at night. We’ll be back shortly.” “Sure thing. And do be careful Albion is everywhere tonight,” Clinton said. André gave his friend a reassuring smile before leaving the pub with Howe. Using his phone, the fighter flagged down a taxi. He climbed into the driver’s seat with the hacker in the passengers. Tossing his bag into the back, Howe began setting up the GPS route to the Royal London Hospital. “This shouldn’t be too long of drive….15 minutes. Sounds reasonable enough,” he said as he shifted into drive. “Methinks that the hospital is going to be heavily secured tonight,” André muttered while watching an Albion guard detain a civilian on the street. Howe looked over and shook his head. Around 10:30 PM, the men pulled up to the Royal London Hospital.

It was to be expected; guards patrolled the entrance of the hospital, including the driveway where ambulances are parked. Making his way towards the front entrance, Howe and André put on their masks and hid behind a brick wall. The hacker pulled out his phone and almost immediately pinged, directing the signal to a nearby ctOS fighter drone. We could use the drone to clear the guards. Hacking the drone, André began piloting it inside the main entrance where Albion guards are stationed and proceeded to take the guards down one by one. Howe watched with curiosity as the hacker pointed the drone towards a guard on the second floor before he prodded his friend. “I see the data machine look!” he hissed. There was a black box located right behind the guard which made the mission more convenient than they both thought. André shot the guard then flew the drone close to the machine. “Alright. Wait…” he stopped. Howe became confused. “What happened?” he asked. “Someone seemed to have cleared the data from the machine. The drone isn’t picking up anything.” “

“Do they know we were coming then?” “Not sure. But no data is coming from that box.” It was then Bagley pinged their earpiece. “It appears that someone has already hacked the data from the file server. I do believe there is backup storage stored somewhere on the other side. See if you can find something.” “Copy that. Alright.” André piloted the drone to the front of the hospital. There are several stories; each floor containing rooms of many patients as well as nurses and doctors working night shifts. Outside, the balcony floors were devoid of any sign of life, except for a few hospital workers. Gently flying the drone away from the windows, André finally located the backup file storage sitting on the fourth-floor balcony. “Second time the charm here we go…” He flew the drone towards the black box only for the phone to be suddenly disconnected.

Frustrated, André attempted to reconnect his phone back towards the drone. He successfully regained control only to see part of it damaged. “Oh God, who could it be now?” he groaned. Tilting the drone to the side, both men saw another fighter drone next to them. “What the...GET OUT OF HERE!!” André snarled and attempted to shoot it. He was unlucky. The other drone dodged the laser and proceeded to shoot the ctOS drone, destroying it. The phone signaled a loss of connection. Bagley pinged again. “It seems that someone has gained access to the backup storage. Looks like all the data are cleared from this location.” “DAMMIT!! Ok, what about St. Thomas could you check on that?” André said, giving Howe an incredulous look. The fighter shook his head. A moment of silence conveyed until Bagley spoke up. “Unfortunately I was unable to locate any data worth recovering from there. And don’t bother attempting Guy Hospital, that one was long cleared.” “Fuck! Ok, well appreciate your help, Bagley.” “Certainly. You should probably get back. Lord Germain has now issued a curfew at midnight.” Both men growled at that name. “We’ll be sure to head back,” André responded, tapping his earpiece. They both got up and walked towards their car only to notice a message clipped to their windshield. Howe took of his Ded Coronation mask, tossed it into the taxi, and started reading the note. André slid next to him. “What does the note say?” “It’s not a note,” Howe whispered. Staring at the paper, André read out loud the message:

Hey DedSec,

~~~~~~~~~C@N’T F1ND WH@T Y0U’R€ L00K!NG F0R? B€TT€R LUCK N€XT T1M€~~~~~~~~(8>

“DeFaLT”

“ ‘DeFaLT’? The Polish black hacker and well-known DJ? HOLY CRAP YES!!” André’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Have you heard any of his songs Billy? He’s got helluva a collection.” His enthusiasm was not shared by his friend, who was staring at the paper with a blank expression. “William? Is everything ok?” the hacker asked, concerned. “Huh? Oh, nothing…it’s just…” Howe stopped. Defalt. Richard loves that man just like André. Even learned to hack like him. Could it be…? The fighter shoved the paper into his jacket before entering the taxi. André got into the passenger seat, head swimming with mixed emotions.

The drive back to the pub was extremely quiet. André wanted to continuously share his enthusiasm about his favorite artist but couldn’t since Howe was not in the mood to converse. They arrived back at The Earl’s Fortune. Few patrons still sat by the fireplace, conversing over the news while Hanger poured drinks to a few customers at the bar. Entering the passcode, Howe and André returned to the Safehouse where Howe tossed his bag onto the desk next to Bagley and walked towards the broken down train converted into a bar. Clinton, who was sitting on the leather couch tuned into his headphones while browsing his laptop, looked up and saw André standing there with a glum look on his face. He took his headphones off, placed his laptop on the couch before getting up to comfort the hacker. “What’s the matter? Got busted by Albion?” “No. It’s something else…” André said quietly. Bagley spoke up. “Every hospital record has been taken by someone. Not sure whom it may be, but it seems that person knows what we’re up to.” “A spy? Well well guess we’ll have to watch our backs,” Clinton said, sighing in disbelief. Howe finally emerged from the train and pulled out the note from his pocket.

“This is what I found on the taxi we drove. Looks like someone was playing ‘DeFaLT’ and got to us before we could.” Clinton took the note and stared at it. “My God it looks as if someone is trying to cosplay as an actual hacker, writing a note like that.” He turned it over to find nothing else. “Probably some kid on the street who thinks it’s funny to play games like this.” Clinton handed back the paper. “In any case, we’ll need to cover our tracks more discretely from now on.” Howe looked back at the paper. “We may have to. Although I do plan on paying a visit to the Royal Navy shipyard tomorrow.” “How so?” Clinton inquired. “I have a hunch….but I could be wrong….that my brother wrote this message. He could be trailing us.” “Richard? That guy hasn’t spoken to you in ages how could he possibly emerge from the shadows like this? It doesn’t make any sense,” André pointed out. Howe sighed. “Look, I’m going to the navy quarters to find out. Y’all wouldn’t mind coming with me?”

“Why certainly. Hmm, where is Burgoyne?” “He’s in the training room trying to ‘jack himself up.’ “ Clinton grunted. Bagley snickered. “As if that’s not the only thing he’s ‘jacking up’ on.” “DAMMIT BAGLEY!!” Clinton yelled as everyone burst out laughing. Exhausted, André slid onto his gamer chair before tossing his black DedSec jacket onto the table. His white shirt displayed the fox logo of DedSec in blue highlights, matching his black cargo pants. Stretching, André leaned back and closed his eyes. Who could be playing Defalt? Hmm...Mission Complete.

[misunderstood-shadows]

Bruises

Warnings: Domestic violence trigger warning, violence, swearing, injury

Word count: 2073

Reblogs and comments= fics!

The phone rang on the bedside table. I glanced at it for a moment, before returning to my laptop where Peaky Blinders was playing. Netflix had already asked my three times if I was still watching, which I though was just plain rude.

The phone shut off, then started ringing again, this time with a different ring tone. ‘Bad Moon Rising’ blared for a minute, Klaus stubbornly refusing to hang up. I reached over, switching the phone to silent and returning to Cillian Murphy’s baby blues.

Two episodes later and the doorbell rang. I ignored it again, pulling my duvet tighter around myself, trying to focus on what Alfie was saying through my tinny speakers.

“Open the door.”

I froze at the sound of Elijah’s voice.

“I can hear you. Open the door, or I will,” he repeated calmly. I had no doubt he would.

I rolled off the bed carefully, hurriedly checking my reflection in the mirror. The bruise marred my cheek and eye, my skin a mottled blue and black. The skin had split near my eyebrow, the scab was still red and slightly bloody. I tried to cover it with my hair and hurried to my door before Elijah removed it.

“What is it?” I asked, opening the door a fraction.

Elijah was in a tuxedo, his bow tie loose around his neck. He had a slight waft of bourbon around him, but his eyes looked clear. He raised an eyebrow at my appearance.

Flushing, I pulled at my shirt, as if that could fix the curry stained sweatpants and wrinkled shirt.

“I’m not sure Hayley would be pleased if you turned up in that.”

I frowned. “What do you… fuck! The wedding! That’s today, oh my god I completely forgot.”

I stepped back, forgetting about the door. Elijah took the opening and stepped inside, forcing me back. I scowled, closing the door behind him.

“Yes, well, Niklaus was worried when he couldn’t get in touch with you. We have time. Go, change and…” he paused, frowning. “What’s that on your face?”

My eyes widened and I raised a hand to brush my hair back over that side of my face. “Uhm, nothing. It’s fine. I don’t think I can come; I’m coming down with a cold or the flu. I don’t want to give it to Hope if I can avoid it.”

He stepped forward. “It’s futile to lie to me. I can hear your heart.” He reached for me again. “What happened?”

I stepped back, my back hitting the door. He gave me a concerned look, and when he reached for me again, I let him. He brushed my hair back, revealing the bruise. Though he tried to hide it, I saw the corner of his mouth twitch downwards.

“Did Liam do this to you?”

I shook my head, heart pounding. “No, no. I slipped while I was cooking, I hit my head on the counter.” I waved a hand behind him, towards the kitchen. “Slippery floor.”

On hand reached up, his thumb stroking gently over the shiny skin. “Don’t lie.”

‘If you tell anyone’, he’d whispered in my ear, knee in my back, ‘I’ll kill you.’. I knew he would, too.

I slid out from between Elijah and the door, his dark eyes watching me the whole time.

“I’m not lying, I swear.”

He still didn’t buy it.

“Please, Elijah. I promise.”

I gestured to the kitchen again. “Do you want a drink? I think I have your favorite bourbon still here.”

Without waiting for an answer, I made my way behind the counter, pulling a glass from the shelf. I didn’t think and reached up for the half-full bottle. My ribs screamed and I sucked in a breath, barely holding in a gasp. Elijah was at my side in a second, replacing the bottle on the shelf.

He guided me to a chair, where I sat doubled over, trying to breathe through the pain.

“Let me see,” he demanded, kneeling before me.

I shook my head, still breathless. “I’m… fine.”

His lip curled in a snarl. “You are not. Let me see.”

He gently removed my hands from where they covered my ribs and lifted my shirt. I kept my eyes determinedly on the floor as he looked me over, trying to ignore the fact that I hadn’t had the strength to put on a bra. A cool finger slid over the bruise, skirting around the large carpet burn that wrapped around my right side. He lent me forward ever so slightly to check my back, and I saw his whole body go still as he was the boot print on my lower back.

He pulled back, gently leaning me against the chair. His eyes were dark and stormy, his face set in that deadly calm façade. I knew him well enough to know that blood would be spilled tonight.

“I dumped him. That’s why he did this,” I said, gesturing to my face. “This is the second time he’s done this. Last time he was drunk. This time he was not. I knew I couldn’t let him stay.”

“You didn’t tell us,” he said. “You have three Original vampires at your disposal. You could’ve told us.”

I shook my head. “I couldn’t, that’s not me. He was my boyfriend, I needed to deal with it like a big girl.”

Elijah knelt in front of me, looking me in the eyes. “You are to come with me. I’ll give you some of my blood, and you can get changed. I refuse to let you out of my sight.”

I nodded, and his hand came up again, stroking my face. “I wish you’d told me.”

I turned my head, pressing a kiss to his hand, before standing. He rose with me, a full head taller than me. His eyes were still simmering with anger, but they softened when I gave him a small smile.

“Thank you, ‘Lijah.”

He nodded, turning to take the glass for the counter behind him. He bit into his hand, dripping blood into the glass. He offered it to me, and I took it, eyeing the liquid in apprehension.

“You must drink,” Elijah said softly.

“I know,” I said. “It’s just odd, isn’t it? A human drinking the blood of a vampire.”

Elijah gave me a small smile, then looked pointedly at the glass. I lifted it to my lips, eyes not leaving Elijah as I drank. I put the glass down on the table, trying not to wince at the metallic taste. A moment later, I felt the pain in my ribs faded, and my skin healed over the carpet burns on my back. The swelling on my cheek receded and the burst vessels in my eye sealed back over.

“That’s so much better,” I groaned, rolling my neck. I smiled up at a much more relaxed Elijah, feeling much brighter. “Give me an hour. Can you call Rebekah? She said she’d do my hair.”

Elijah nodded, pulling his phone from his pocket. I headed towards the bathroom, eager to leave this apartment and its bad memories, even temporarily.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Elijah I heard the shower start just as I dialed the phone.

“Niklaus,” I said when he picked up. “If Liam turns up to the wedding, I want you to set one of Marcellus’ nightwalkers to detain him and wait for me. He is not to come near Y/N.” “Did he get too close to her, brother? You know, if you want her, you could have her. God know you two have danced- “

“Enough,” I snapped. “He raised his hand to her, Niklaus. Twice. Her ribs were cracked and her face…” I trailed off, unable to get the image of her black and blue body form my mind. “He’s finished with her. If he comes near her, I will rip his heart from his chest.”

Niklaus laughed form the other side. “I’m proud, brother. Perhaps some of my so-called madness has worn off on you.”

“Perhaps,” I said, before ending the call. It was true; I did feel an inexplicable rage towards the man Y/N had trusted with her heart.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When I exited the shower, Rebekah was waiting in my room. From her face, I knew Elijah had filled her in.

“Don’t,” I said when she opened her mouth. “I don’t need speeches about how stupid I was, and how I needed to leave the moment I felt unsafe. I know, Beks. I already know.”

She shook her head, brows furrowing. “I was just going to say how proud and happy I am that you ended it. Even if it was late, you did it. Nobody deserves what you got.”

I opened my mouth but couldn’t think of what to say. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder, giving me a bright smile. “Let’s move on, shall we?”

I nodded gratefully, and she swung out a chair in front of my mirror.

“Now, I think we need to have your hair down. Sit still for me.” She smiled at me in the mirror, already reaching for a brush.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Rebekah literally got me ready in record time. She had vampire sped through my makeup, moving like a hummingbird, but remaining gentle. She had thrown a towel over the mirror so I couldn’t see my reflection when she was finished, insisting that I needed to ‘see it all with the dress’ and to ‘shut up and sit still like a good girl’.

She kept me laughing and even ordered Elijah to bring us each a glass of wine. He handed them through the small crack in the door that Rebekah allowed, insisting again that he shouldn’t see me before the big reveal.

“And… there,” she said finally.

The dress had been bought months ago, chosen and purchased by Rebekah without my say. However, the dress was perfect. Nothing less could be expected, of course.

It was mid-thigh length, black lace covering white silk. The shoes were strappy black and tall, but still somehow comfortable.

“Holy fuck,” I said, smiling. “You are a goddess, Rebekah.”

She smiled behind me. “In that dress, darling, you are an angel.”

We grinned at each other for a moment, before there was a polite knock at the door.

“If we are to make it in time, we must leave now.”

Rebekah leaped into action, grabbing both of our clutches from the bed and ushering me out of the bedroom.

“Now, brother,” she called over my shoulder. “Do remember your darling sister is here, so save all the tomfoolery for when I am a least a few miles away.”

She moved around me, winking as she passed. I rolled my eyes before they met Elijah’s. His bowtie was done up now, and he stood by my little worn couch, looking absolutely flawless. I did a little twirl, my skirt flaring.

“Your sister truly is magical; are you sure you can’t still practice magic?” I said jokingly.

Elijah smiled. “Oh, my sister merely put finishing touches on what was already there.”

I flushed, avoiding his eyes. There was a pointed cough from Rebekah and Elijah rolled his eyes, before offering his arm.

“My sister,” he said, leaning close to my ear. “Has made me swear on my life that I would be a perfect gentleman this evening.”

His breath brushed my neck, and I tried very hard not to shudder. Fuck me.

I turned my head to smile up at him. “As if you’re every anything other.”

His face was soft, and I found that I liked this look at him. I wanted to think that this look was just for me, however, I knew better. For the last year, his attention had been on Hayley, and I knew that he thought of me as no more than a family friend; a human who was helpful for the now, but who would grow useless as time passed, only to be forgotten sometime in the next century or so.

There was a flash, and we both turned to Rebekah, frowning. She smiled and flitted from the room, the skirt of her dress disappearing out of the door.

“When you two are done flirting, there’s a party with an open bar waiting for us.”

I didn’t look back at Elijah, still flushed from Rebekah’s words, but I could still feel his eyes on me as we left the apartment, arm in arm.

[arrowhead20]

Okay, so I've waited a while to post this but now I finally can.

I was "detained" in the case of a self defense shooting where I had to discharge a firearm into a friend of mine who was drunkenly attacking me. Upon moving to a safe location, I called an ambulance and then called central dispatch (911). I had already unloaded the firearm and had the ammunition separate from the gun. I was very shaken up and scared. The dispatcher was very kind and I placed the firearm on the hood of my vehicle and made the dispatcher (and by communication the cops) aware the firearm was outside the vehicle, I was inside it and couldnt get to the firearm. Upon seeing the blue lights, I placed both my hands out the window and visible. The 2 officers approached from different sides of the vehicle to make sure there wasn't a threat and secured the firearm. I was told to step out of the vehicle, I did so slowly. They took me to the front of they're car and searched me, emptying my pockets. At that time, they relaxed a bit as I was very cooperative and not posing a threat. I was physically shaking and very scared, both that the man who assulted me would come after me and that I would go to jail. Luckily one of the officers was kind enough to allow me a cigarette. It was cold out, and I was freezing. Eventually a state cop pulled up and luckily was very nice. He relieved the other officers, took pictures of my hands, which were covered in my friend's blood up to my elbows. He refused to speak about the investigation or what was going on back at the place I had shot my friend. However, he was kind enough to realize I was very cold and allowed me to sit in the front of his patrol car with him.

Then came the Sargeant in charge of the case. He arrived and was very demanding and shocking to me. I was told I was being detained, not arrested, but I was not free to go and asked if I understood, to which I replied I did not" He cuffed both my hand, cutting off the circulation and had me get into the back cage of his patrol car. He then drove me to the station while listening to music not talking to me as I slid around in the back.

Upon arrival I asked to use the restroom, which he allowed me as he stood and watched then didn't allow me to wash my blood covered hands even though I made him aware they had already been photographed. He took me to their lounge where I sat in a hard plastic chair, cuffed, until 0800 when the detective would be in. It was again freezing in there and I was shivering as cops walked past and stared. Eventually I was brought to a interview room, where the cameras werent working and the detective began a basic tape recorder. I was finally read my rights after 5hrs in "detention" and asked if I wanted a lawyer. I was told if I wanted a lawyer they'd sit me back in the lounge until one showed up for me. During this time I had been asking to make a phone call to my parents and 1) let them know I was alright and 2) ask if I would have a lawyer or not. I was denied making a phone call to my parents several times. I waved this as I didn't want to sit back in a common area to freeze and be looked at. I told the detective I needed to wash my hands this is all I kept asking and begging for for 10 minutes until he finally let me.

I finally was able to give my story through short sharp anxious breaths and tears. The detective then let me into the common waiting room for the jail. I sat there for at least an hour asking for my phone continually so I could speak with my family. I was again denied this. I asked for a cigarette. Again denied. I was told to come back into the room and made to strip, give up my clothes, and given clothes from the jail. They finally let me leave after 9hrs in "detainment" and luckily I had my car there to take back home as it was towed to be searched.

Finally, 2 months later (and ironically right after the primary election), I recieved a call that there were no charges being filed against me.

The moral of all this is all cops are bastards. While I was lucky to have a few good, kind cops on scene with me, this was because I could relate to them, I was like them to an extent. I did everything right to make them as comfortable and unthreatened as possible. I was fortunate enough to KNOW how to do this. Then the prosecution's office taking months to make a decision where they had all the information and stories which validated each others from several people within a week shows what this is about. It's not about each individual cop, its about the system which allows them to act humanly and take months to make a decision on a simple case. Fuck cops, not because they are all bad, but because the system they work in is bad and cares nothing about the right thing.

[starkerfilth]

hacker!au ; part 2 / starker

Part 1

(have fun reading! you might enjoy listening to ‘no angel’ by charli xcx to this)

"Morning, Dawkins." Tony gave his coworker as nod as he passed his desk. He held a cup of coffee in one hand, a folder in the other.

Mike returned the nod. "Morning, Stark. Hey—come over here for a sec."

"What is it?"

"Just come." The officer's voice was hushed like he didn't want everyone around them to hear.

Tony sighed. He made his way around Dawkins' neatly organized desk.

"So?" He took a sip of his coffee. No milk, a sprinkle of sugar. Just how he liked it.

"Did you hear about the hacker kid?" Mike asked.

Tony raised a brow. "Parker?"

"Yeah."

"What about him? I had him in interrogation yesterday." —Meaning, I'm pretty sure I know whatever you're going to tell me.

"They're gonna let him go."

Tony almost spat his coffee back out.

"They what?"

"I

know,"

Mike muttered. He typed something into his keyboard.

Tony frowned. "Why?"

Mike pointed at his computer screen. He'd typed Peter Parker into the search bar and came up with a clean record. "I don't know. But on here, he's never even been accused of anything."

Tony put his folder down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't get it."

"It's foul play, Stark, I'm tellin' ya."

Tony pressed his lips together.

We'll see about that, Officer, Peter had said.

"Damn right it is," He eventually commented grimly. His fingers drummed on the file he'd put down.

"So what you gonna do? It's your case."

The officer bit his lip. "Looks like I have some ass to kick. Fuckin' rookie criminals." He cleared his throat, picked his folder up and walked to his desk two slots away.

After a few restless minutes, he gave up and marched to the overnight detainment cells.

Bucky was unlocking Peter's cell just as Tony got there. A man in an expensive-looking suit waited on the other side. He was on the phone with someone, defined brows forming a frown.

"Mister Parker." Tony gave the boy a curt nod.

Peter smiled at him as he walked out of the cell as if he owned the building and wasn't held custody in it. Something explosive about the way his lips curled—like he was a bomb just waiting to be ignited. "Hello, Officer Stark. Slept well, I hope?"

Tony gave the businessman another glance. He wasn't looking at Tony, but it was always better to behave like he was being watched.

"Sure," He grumbled.

He quietly stood next to Bucky as Peter was handed his things—a key, a few rings and a pack of chewing gum.

"Peter." The boy's guardian put an arm around his shoulders.

"Hi." Peter looked at the guy almost like he was satisfied—like he was proud—and Tony felt like he was missing something here.

"He hasn't been too much of a hassle, I hope?"

Peter's smile died as soon as his guardian looked away.

Devious little thing.

"He's not much paperwork, that's for sure," Tony couldn't help but comment dryly.

The man gave him an even drier chuckle.

"Let's hope there's no need to meet again." Peter's guardian shook everyone's hands and then swiftly turned around. Peter looked over his shoulder and a gave Tony a cheeky wink. They left without another word.

Once the doors slid closed behind the pair, Bucky exhaled audibly. "What a brat."

---

A dig through the archive revealed that a certain Rick Bellfort, head of the multi-million dollar company Bellfort Co., had adopted a teenage boy a few years ago.

Rick Bellfort was also one of the city's biggest sponsors.

"Fucking rich people," Tony muttered under his breath as he tucked the files back into the folder.

---

Come and find me, Officer, the graffiti read. A boy blowing a gum bubble was drawn next to the words.

Tony felt a crack as he tightened his grip around the flashlight.

"Fucking Parker." He kicked the cobble that covered the ground in front of the hotel. "Fucking Bellfort. That who you work for, huh?" he muttered to himself.

The light roamed across the wall and the floor. The pink paint had dribbled down the bricks like it had been too much, too fast. Tony could still smell the chemical stench in the air.

It took him too long to piece it together.

This was new.

The kid might still be around.

Tony cursed under his breath and swirled around. There had to be traces of footsteps in the cobble—

Or a visible dent with white perking out from underneath.

Tony slipped his leather glove back on and pulled the piece of paper.

Find me where I live like Elizabeth for as many dawns as the sugar allows. — P.P.

Fucking riddles.

Tony crumpled the paper and stomped across the cobble to his car. Je wasn't going to play this little brat's games. There were more serious crimes that needed solving.

And yet. Tony Stark wasn't one to give up.

His fingers drummed on the steering wheel.

"Live like Elizabeth—Elizabeth, who's Elizabeth?"

His eyes darted around. The parking lot. The cobble. The chewing gum. Come and find me.

Queen Elizabeth.

Live like a queen.

"As many dawns as the sugar allows—dawns are nights. As many nights as the sugar allows. As many nights, as many nights..."

What was sugar for a rich kid?

Tony looked around once more. The streetlights. The lights burning in the houses all around. The hotel.

Tony wanted to punch himself. The hotel.

The presidential suite.

Find me where I live like a queen for as many nights as the money allows. — Peter Parker

"Little bitch," Tony spat.

He got out of the car.

The concierge raised his eyes as Tony entered.

The lobby was decorated in decadent blues and silvers. A black Steinway stood on the side. The pattering of a fountain accompanied the low classical music that came from speakers Tony couldn't locate.

His steps echoed through the lobby as he walked up to the concierge.

He cleared his throat. "Hello. I'm—"

"You must be Mister Stark. Mister Parker is waiting for you."

The suit-clad man handed him a gold-plated key card with an intricate design engraved at the top.

Tony cleared his throat again. "Thank you."

What am I doing here? He asked himself as he stepped into the elevator.

He was playing Parker's game. This was all power play. Was he supposed to shuffle the cards again? Or would playing along be the recipe for success? Peter had confessed that he'd hacked the system only after Tony had let him play his game after all. Maybe this was what this was. A thrill, no matter the price. Even if it was a night in a cell or an officer losing his cool.

For Peter, it was calculated fun. For Tony, it was a precarious gamble.

I'll defeat you, Parker. Just you wait.

The elevator music stopped to allow a soft 'ding' as the doors slid open.

There was only one door on this floor.

Tony slid the key card across the scanner. The door opened with a low humming sound.

No going back.

Hand on his gun.

The suite was the most decadent thing Tony had ever seen in front of him.

Deep red and gold adorned every piece of furniture. A chandelier bestowed light onto the entrance area. Shoes with a golden Gucci logo on them laid on an intricately woven mat, one over the other as if they had been tossed.

Tony advanced into the living room area. Gold and red everywhere. Wealth dripping from every inch of the space.

A quiet cough drew Tony’s eyes back up.

And there, silently, stood Peter, so fucking coy, so fucking pretty.

Mesmerized. That was the only way to describe it. Tony was utterly and completely mesmerized by Peter's figure leaning against the pillar, body wrapped in a pink silk robe. There was a slit starting at the waist that revealed lithe, naked legs.

Peter had looked beautiful with bags under his eyes and a grey ensemble when Tony had arrested him, but this—God, like this, Peter was the most beautiful being Tony had ever seen.

And that look of innocence all over his face.

"Hello, Officer."

Tony gulped. His throat was suddenly dry. "Peter Parker."

"I take it you've gotten my message?" Eyelashes fluttering. Pretty, Tony thought. He's devious!, he tried to remind himself. But—God.

Tony blinked. The gun in its holster pressed against his thigh.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything." A playful smile danced around Peter's lips. He took slow, deliberate steps, toes pointed as if he had to walk tip-toed. His hips were in a gentle, natural sway, accentuated by the robe.

The piece of clothing rustled gently with every movement.

"Wait."

There was a small pout on Peter's lips as he turned his head upward to face the officer. "What's the matter?"

The robe stilled shortly after the boy had. Now that he got a closer look, Tony could see glitter on Peter's lips and a trace of lace perking out from underneath the robe.

His mouth watered.

They couldn't be doing this. He couldn't. But Tony's knees were weak, something in his gut sparking warm and wanting.

"Thought so," Peter said. There it was again, that fucking grin. Tony didn't want to admit it, but it was impossible to deny that it ignited a wildfire inside him.

"No, I—" Tony stopped, cleared his throat. Peter's hands slid across the silk to reach for the hems of the robe. A baby pink cord held it closed at the waist. The officer gulped. "I came to—"

Peter's slender fingers—good God, that was pastel pink nail polish—pulled at the cord.

Like in slow motion, the robe fell open.

There stood Peter, in nothing but pink lace panties and the robe, nipples perking up as the semi-warm air hit the boy's chest.

"Fuck," Tony whispered.

Peter's cheeks were red, his cock tenting the lingerie, but under his lashes, he was watching Tony.

"Do you like it?" Peter asked. His lashes fluttered.

Tony caught himself wanting to nod.

Slowly, he started shaking his head.

"Fuck. I'm— I'm on goddamn duty. I came to fucking arrest you, no to fu—"

Innocence gone. The beast came out now. Peter snarled. "But do you want that?"

No.

"Yes."

Peter smiled. Out of all the things he could have done, he smiled. And took another step closer. His robe curled around Tony’s ankle for a moment before falling back.

“Oh, Officer,” The boy muttered, looking up at Tony through his lashes.

Shuffle the cards again, Stark.

Tony’s glance flicked from Peter’s half-lidded eyes to his shimmering lips and back up.

Gently, he cupped Peter’s cheek. The boy leaned into the touch as Tony’s calloused thumb stroked the soft skin. A soft keen left his mouth that had dropped open involuntarily.

“You needed this, hm?” Tony asked, voice low and rough. He dragged his thumb further across Peter’s face until it caught at the boy’s lip. As if on command, Peter’s lips closed around the finger and started sucking. A lovely shade of red blossomed on his face.

Tony chuckled. “Cute,” He said coldly. He pulled the finger from the boy’s mouth (which earned him an adorable little whine) and wiped the spit on his uniform.

“Turn around for me, pet.”

Peter did as he was told. Tony hummed. “Good boy.”

Another one of those delightful sounds from Peter’s throat.

Shuffle the cards. Buy time.

Tony pulled the boy closer until their bodies were pressed against the other. His breath fanned against Peter’s neck. Goosebumps formed where it hit.

“What happened to your lawful obligation, Officer?” Peter asked, a giggle in his voice.

Bluff.

“Honey, I do as I please,” Tony murmured. His hands ran down Peter’s arms, straightening the silk. The boy shuddered under the touch.

“Besides, isn’t this what you wanted?” 

Peter’s smile was evident in his voice. “You know me too well, Officer.” He was pliant, now. Way too sure that he had already won. Tony peppered wet kisses on the boy’s neck.

“And how well do you know me?”

His hand trailed Peter’s waist, the kind of touch firm enough to be felt, delicate enough to leave the boy light-headed and wanting more.

“You have no idea,” Peter replied.

Play your Ace.

The handcuffs clicked and closed around Peter’s wrists.

Indignant silence. From the corner of his eye, he sees Peter struggling for words.

"Bitch," The boy eventually huffed. "That's not how it's supposed to go."

Tony smirked. His arms snaked around Peter's waist. "This game has never been fair, sweetheart."

"Fuck, I—"

"Language, dear," Tony chided.

"Don't fucking call me that, who do you—"

Peter's voice faded out as Tony ran a hand across the expanse of his lower belly. The muscles contracted and released, a lovely little shiver rushing over the exposed skin.

"Hm?" he teased, grin pressed into the soft flesh of Peter's neck. "You were saying?"

"I said—God, don't stop, oh—I said don't call me—" The boy squirmed, body pulling into the officer's touch and away from it at the same time.

Tony clicked his tongue. "Don't call you what? Dear? Sweetheart? Honey? Because if I remember correctly, and I always do, you really liked those a few moments ago."

"You have no idea what the fuck I like, sir," Peter spat, but his hips were stuttering as he tried not to rock them up.

The officer laughed coldly. "Then why are you still calling me sir like the little slut you are? You're rutting your hips like a bitch in heat and I didn't even touch your pathetic little cock."

Peter made a wretched sound in the back of his throat.

"You like that, huh?" Tony murmured, greedy for more of those pitiful noises. His hands grazed the insides of Peter's thighs and the dips of his waist, never going where the boy really wanted him to. "Like it when I call you my little whore? All dressed up for me to ruin you, weren't you?"

The boy was nothing short of a mess, body melting into Tony's hold, whimpers escaping his open mouth.

"Use your words," He ordered.

"Stop ah-asking questions, just touch me," Peter urged.

Tony hummed, satisfied. "As you wish." He slid a hand across the supple flesh of Peter's thigh and finally cupped Peter's clothed cock with his big palm.

The boy's head dropped back and onto Tony's shoulder in a loud moan.

There was already a damp spot where Peter's cock tented the lingerie. Tony circled that spot with his thumb, relishing the pretty sounds the boy made right into his ear. "Fuck, da— mh, oh—" The boy brabbled, barely coherent.

"That's right..." Tony muttered, squeezing Peter's clothed cock, coaxing all the prettiest sounds out of him.

Peter's breathing got even heavier, lashes fluttering, so Tony finally slipped his hand into the panties. He collected the precum that had collected at the tip and used it to stroke the boy's cock, pace fast and unrelenting.

With another twist of his wrist, he drove Peter over the edge, drawing a carnal sound right from his chest. The ropes of cum dirtied the lingerie and Tony's hand, but he couldn't care less, milking the boy's climax for all it was worth, soaking up all the delicious sounds, whispering praise into Peter's ear.

He only let go when the boy whimpered from the overstimulation. The heavy breathing calmed and Tony helped Peter stand up straight again.

"Those handcuffs are tight," The boy complained.

Tony shook his head disapprovingly. "You're still coming to the station with me."

"I—what?" Peter turned around, looking appalled.

"You heard me. Don't think I forgot what you planned. Let's get you cleaned up."

Tony led Peter to the spacious bathroom. He wiped the cum off of both of them, ignoring his own aching hard cock.

"But—why?"

Tony clicked his tongue. "Would you really call this a punishment for what you did?"

The boy stayed silent.

"Exactly."

---

— Tony had thought that after that night, Peter would be satisfied and go after normal rich kid hobbies, like golfing or gambling.

But four weeks later, after the dreams of Peter's scrunched-up, blissed-out face slowly started fading, he got a call.

Vandalism. Manhattan. Bellfort's factory walls.

And Peter Parker crying in their questioning room.

----------------------------------

hi! part 2 is finally up, i hope it lives up to expectations ;;. i had so much fun while writing this, their dynamic is just drool-worthy oh god. i’ll probably make a third part to explore this whole thing a little more !! tell me what you think.

taglist: @plueschpop @believe-that-001 @this-starker-hoe @areluctantsblog @pleasedontfollwme

[heartslogos]

executive assistant to the batman [50]

“Yo, you got Crane already?”

“Yup,” Dick rubs the side of his hip where Crane had gotten in a good kick. It’s going to be bruised and terrible to work with, but it’s better than a stab wound and Dick will take that win any day. “Evac okay?”

“They cart Crane off yet?”

“Just about, got a question for the not-so-good doctor?”

“Yeah. The Lamb was in one of the buildings he’d rigged with his gas. Check if he was targeting him on purpose.”

Slightly muffled, but no less indignant, is Tim Drake’s voice asking, “Your codename for me is the Lamb?”

“Yeah, you know. Like the lamb that breaks the seal to the end of days? Anyway stop eavesdropping.”

“I’m not eavesdropping, you’re talking to him right next to me!”

“I don’t eavesdrop on you when you’re on the phone doing whatever the fuck it is you do, Drake.”

“You’re a bat, you listen to everything all the time.”

“Where are you guys?” Tim’s been on sick leave from an injured leg coupled with an infection for the past two days. “And why was the Lamb walking?”

“He took the bus.”

“What happened to his car? He had one.”

“Why don’t you ask him later? Go talk to Crane and see if this shit was on purpose before they lock him up. I’m taking the Lamb back to his place. You know. To make sure he doesn’t fuck himself up further. Like he does.”

Hood cuts the line before Dick can hear what is no doubt a colorful response.

“O, you’re recording this right?”

“I don’t know why you ask questions like that, N,” Oracle says, “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“Just covering my bases,” N says, turning to head back to the police cars, ducking underneath the yellow police tape as he searches out the armored car he’d seen them taking Crane to a minute ago.

He catches them just before they drive off and the officers gladly open the back of the armored vehicle so Nightwing can get a word in.

“Hey, Crane, were you targeting this area because you knew Drake would be here?”

The burlap sack that’s Crane’s mask tilts a little in acknowledgement, “Drake?”

“Yeah. Timothy Drake?”

“Who?”

“The executive assistant to Bruce Wayne?”

“Ah. That one. Nigma’s favorite.”

Nightwing blinks, “Wait, you guys have favorites? He’s the Riddler’s favorite? How did — the Riddler and Tim Drake are acquainted?”

“No, of course not. We consider all of you equal nuisances.” Crane sounds eerily similar to B when he says that. “And you’d have to ask Nigma regarding that. Or Drake, himself. I cannot emphasize enough how much this fascinating discussion does not pertain to me. Is this detainment lawful?

“It’s not exactly detainment, Crane. I’m just asking you some friendly questions.” Dick grins, “Who’s favorite am I, doctor? Am I yours? Come on. You’ve got to admit to a certain rapport between us. C’mon, I promise I won’t tell.”

“There are no favorites, Nightwing. You’re simply eldest, and therefore the irritation we are most used to dealing with,” Crane answers. Again, sounding a lot like B whenever Dick tries to needle him about the same topic. “Enough with this, why would I be targeting an assistant?”

“Because he basically runs W.E. when Bruce Wayne is being Bruce Wayne?”

“And what do I care about this, Nightwing? Are you trying to accuse me of something? Best to just say it. You drawing this out is getting neither of us anywhere aside from annoyed.”

“W.E. funds Batman.”

Crane’s long-suffering sigh gives Dick the heavy impression that he’s rolling his eyes so hard that they’d pop out of their sockets if he didn’t have eyelids and glasses.

“I don’t care that Gotham’s answer to the Kardashians funds Batman. Batman has been my antagonist since before Bruce Wayne and his money decided a skylight would be a fun new toy to invest in.”

Nightwing silently hopes that O’s also recording this bit too, because he absolutely needs to share this with everyone he knows. He needs to blast Crane saying this out loud in the Cave with some kind of music drop behind it. If his domino had some kind of visual recording he’d stick this moment in an electronic photo frame and give it to Bruce for Father’s Day.

“Alright, alright, cool your jets, Crane, I was just checking,” Nightwing holds up his hands, stepping away from the car. “Be good on the drive back to Arkham, no McDonalds stops for you, alright? Thanks for letting me talk to him, officers. I won’t take up anymore of your time.”

Nightwing escapes to a rooftop so he can pass it onto Hood that Drake and Crane’s proximity was a coincidence.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” O says just as Nightwing’s about to open his mouth.

“There isn’t even any CCTV here,” Nightwing glances around anyway, “How did you know?”

“You think I don’t know you, boy wonder?” O’s voice scrambler flicks off. “Give it a few minutes. Drake’s still busy tearing his way up one side of Jason’s ass and he’s got to work his way down the other.”

“Yikes. It can’t have taken them that long to get to his apartment.”

“Oh, they’re there all right. But Drake won’t go inside until he finishes giving Hood a piece of his mind.”

“They’re going to be there forever.” Dick’s pretty sure Tim’s got a few things Jason’s pissed him off about that he’d be more than happy to unload onto Hood with.

“Oh, nice. He’s started in on complaining about B to Hood so that Hood can take it up with B later.”

Jason would never keep his mouth shut about having someone complain about him about something B’s done.

“This is why he’s the favorite, apparently.” Dick sits down on the roof ledge, propping his chin on the palm of his hand as he swings a leg, hitting his heel against the brick facade of the building. “Do you happen to know anything about what happened to Drake’s car?”

“He drove it through Gotham, what do you think happened?” O replies. “It got wrecked during a fight.”

“It was a company issued car, he could’ve just gotten a new one. It’s basically an expected expense,” Dick points out. “Considering that the first one was basically forced on him to start with.”

Tim’s expression when he saw that car was a mixture of pure euphoric desire and unmitigated horror. Because on one hand, it was a beautiful car. On the other hand? At what cost did he get that car? Years in service to the Wayne family, and the promise of his future in that service.

“He can’t just keep replacing cars,” O says. “Considering his job position? And his streak of barely surviving bodily harm through sheer force of bullheaded will? He’d be going through cars like people go through toilet paper. W.E. is rich. They’re not that rich.”

[rovvboat]

Painted Flaws - Colossus/Piotr Rasputin x villian!Reader

Part 4

A/N: WOO all aboard some domestic-ish fluff in this part!! stay tuned for some p solid progression of the story - one you probably wouldn’t want to miss :x + a p cute NTWxYukio scene in this one ^-^

Let me know how you feel about this series! 

Word count: 5k

Warnings: nothing too outlandish

Summary: You’re a villian with a moral grey area. You meet Piotr at an art exhibit, but both of you are there for completely different reasons. Though the attraction was inevitable, will it be enough? A growing passionate love wrought with secrecy, both of you try to move through this maze. But when the ball drops, what will you choose?

The thick layers of dry fallen leaves rustle furiously, crushed under your accelerating weight, as your feet bound across the uneven terrain of soil that gives in at even the slightest touch; where the swollen dark roots look like menacing anacondas – just waiting to curl around your legs in a triumphant downfall.

Your breathless lungs fight to keep you running, as you pull a 16-year-old lanky D.K. behind you.

Nightfall arrived much sooner than you had initially planned, and now everything was a race against time.

The sound of hounds bellow through the woods behind you; strobes of light sweeping rapidly through the nearby trees, as the heavy thundering steps of Demetrius’ goons track a ways behind you.

 You reach into your pocket with your free hand, riddled with sweat, trying hard to make out the shape of the hard metal bolus – grasping it in your palm when you finally get the feel of it.

You bring it to your mouth, teeth biting hard against the cold release pin; and successfully pull it out, before hurling it behind you in a blind panic. And mere seconds later

BOOF

Puffs of strong, ashy smoke quickly  surrounds the trees and rise tall towards the sky – and when you hear the frantic barking of the dogs and frustrated cries of ‘’Oh fuck’’, you know you’ve bought yourself just enough time to make your escape.

You pick up speed, but D.K starts to lag behind. You yank him closer to you.

As you reached the area of thick shrubbery, you slow down to let D.K catch his breath. You push aside the layers of vines and small branches where, and at the far edges of the forest could vaguely make out the cabin– which had been your place of refuge during the operation.

And that was where you knew escape was waiting, in the form of the land rover you managed to steal from the goons.

You look back to D.K. to make sure he was alright, but in his place stood the cold, sharp eyes of Demetrius – staring you down

Along with the barrel of his gun.

‘’I do not tolerate betrayal.’’ A demonic voice echoes around you, as your heart bangs repeatedly into your chest – like a locked up hostage; your legs now feel light, and ready to bolt from the sudden rush of blood.

You hear him cocking the gun, as resignation moves into the pit of your stomach; you abruptly shut your eyes, bracing for impact.

And when the gunshot – like the sharp explosion of thunder – cracks through the air –

 Your body jolts up from the bed, struggling to find air in your lungs with rapid breaths. You bring a hand to your chest to calm yourself down, the cold sweat forming at your temples making themselves known to you.

You look out to your window, and hear the violent crashing of heavy rain drops against the pane. Thunder rumbling somewhere in the far distance.

Nightmares were part of your life ever since the day you decided to pull D.K. out of the operation. You’ve been on edge ever since. But there is nothing in the world you would’ve done differently.

The others kids were either caught, and sent to prison – or they were successfully bailed out by the proxies you had hired to get them out; against direct orders from the boss himself.

D.K., however, was a special case. They had found out he had a latent mutant gene, and wanted to begin experimentation.

No way in hell were you going to allow that.

You look at the time; 5:30am – the LED lights buzz through the dark, as you get up to prepare for the day ahead.

 The first order of business was to find a replacement for the motorcycle you had to dump. You had to abandon quite a few in the past couple of years, but that one – it was a beauty. Extremely reliable, and gave good gas mileage – you got attached to it, and you feel a vague sense of loss from having had to abandon it.

As you walk out of the dealer, you hear the telltale rumblings of a jet overhead – the piercing speed ricocheting around you as it flew over towards the city center.

You’d recognize that jet anyway – it was the X-Jet. You recall how you slipped out of their hands – and then you remember the anti-mutant serum that you delivered to Demetrius.

That’s gonna be a problem for them, isn’t it? Why is Demetrius looking into meddling with mutants?

Your train of thought gets broken by the buzzing of your phone in your pocket. It was a text from Piotr.

Just the distraction you needed.

[Good morning. I hope you’ve had breakfast, and that you have a lovely day <3]

You beam at your phone like an idiot.

God what did I ever do to deserve you, Rasputin?

You type out a response.

[You know, it would be nicer with you in it. Would you be free for dinner? I know a place 😉]

You contemplate sending it for a moment.

Am I moving too fast?

And the thought makes you laugh – you’ve had sex with him for God’s sake! But it doesn’t taper down your insecurity any less.

Finally, you give in, and send the text anyway.

You couldn’t help the constant checking of your phone – and the utter disappointment you felt when the notification that buzzed through, just ended up being the weather app showing the forecast for the day.

You don’t receive a response for another hour – one debilitating, anxious hour. Your heart counts the seconds with restless thumps against your chest, as you make your way back to your apartment.

[I apologise for the delayed response. I was caught up with some work. But yes, dinner sounds lovely 😊 I will pick you up at 5?]

Though you didn’t want to seem like you were waiting for the text, you weren’t the kind of person to wait a few minutes to ensure that fact.

[Sounds like a plan, sweets.]            

***                                                             

 ‘’And where are you off to in such a hurry?’’ Deadpool asks, perched on the banister at the top of the stairs, legs dangling carelessly in the air.

‘’Probably to visit his girlfriend.’’ NTW answers from the hallway, hands folded across her chest, smiling at Colossus in a knowing way.

Piotr continues up the stairs, his lips upturned – but not wanting to give himself away.

‘’Wow, someone’s been getting booty called every-fucking-day. Who’s the lucky gal? Or guy! Or person – whomsoever would be blessed with a virgin such as yourself.’’ Wade curtsies at Piotr as he walks past. ‘’And how the hell do they take you, huh? I mean you must be what? A good 8 inches? 10 on a good day? And your girth! It must be–  ‘’

‘’I am very close to shoving you off the second floor.’’ Colossus warns, before heading for his room.

‘’Woah careful there buddy, your Russian mafia side is coming out. But I have to say, you have that special after-sex glow to you whenever you go off on your rendezvous.’’ Deadpool quips, before hopping off the banister.

Colossus rolls his eyes as he shuts the door behind him – focusing, rather, on getting ready for his dinner plans.

 ***

‘’This gal’s pretty quick on her feet.’’ Cable notes, entering NTW’s work station, tapping purposefully at his cybernetic arm. A hologram of a neighbourhood pops up – and he swipes at it, giving a better view of the surrounding buildings.

The view shows a junction, where a blinking red [X] marks the spot where the tracking device had disconnected.

‘’She knows what she’s doing. Probably disconnected the tracking device with an EM pulse.’’

‘’What street is that? We could tap into the traffic surveillance cams to get a better look.’’ NTW suggests, already pulling up her laptop and getting to work.

‘’She’s a sly kitten, I’ll give her that.’’ Deadpool jibes as he joins the two. ‘’Gave me and the Old Man a real good run around.’’

‘’Maybe you are just not good at what you do.’’ Colossus remarks nonchalantly, walking up to the doorway – dressed up and adjusting his watch straps, before smoothing down the vest over his stomach.

Deadpool looks up, making note to raise his brows to show his notice of Colossus’ outfit.

‘’Look who’s joined the party! It’s Big Russian Blue! You’re never in your human form in the house! Let me know if you need a third. I’d always be up to smack that tight ass of yours, metal or not.’’ He derails with a wink, before responding to Colossus’ snarky remark.

‘’BUT I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW, I have a pretty good track record.’’ He goes off with a name list. ‘’Francis! Juggernaut! Those Chinese guys in that tall building I couldn’t pronounce! and more that you guys don’t even know about!’’

‘’You did let Francis slip out of your hands the first time.’’ NTW counters.

‘’And let yourself be captured and detained in the icebox.’’ Cable adds.

‘’You didn’t even fight the Juggernaut. That was Colossus, Me and Yukio. All you did was get ripped in half.’’

Deadpool puts his hands on his cheeks, as his comically open mouth takes in a huff of air in a display of faux disbelief.

‘’I WILL NOT STAND HERE AND TAKE THIS LYING DOWN. That’s it. I’m taking a self-care day. All of you, think about what you’ve done. And as for you–‘’ he dramatically points at Colossus– ‘’I’ll give you another chance. My offer still stands.’’

Colossus bring a palm to his face in annoyance, before turning his attention to Cable.

‘’Please keep me updated of the progress. The sooner we find the culprit, the sooner we can confirm if this new mutant research laboratory truly is manufacturing those… anti-mutant serums. I will be back sometime around midnight.’’

‘’No problem. Have fun with your new… girlfriend?’’ Cable responds with a smirk and a raised brow, making Colossus smile sheepishly before heading off.

 ***

 Time passed by quicker than you realized – running the never-ending errands of your boss was nothing short of exhausting – and by the time you set foot into your apartment, it hits you that it’s already 4:30.

You kick off your shoes and hurry into the shower.

Just as you come out of the bathroom, toweling off your dripping wet hair, you hear the doorbell ring.

You stumble into your room – ‘’Coming!’’ – throwing on an oversized hoodie and grabbing some panties from the drawer, hopping towards the front door as you put each leg into them.

When you open the door, you’re greeted by the burly form belonging to the man you’ve been expecting, and your gaze trails up expectantly to his lovely eyes. He’s wearing a maroon long-sleeved vest, with the collar of a light grey button-down shirt popping out from the crew neck vest; paired nicely with casual denim jeans.

Boy, does he have taste.

‘’You’re never late, are you Piotr?’’ Your lips tip over in an impressed smile, hiding the breathless escapade behind it.

‘’Da, I had to rush over from my… work.’’ His eyeline shifts slightly to the, left then back to you.

‘’I know the feeling. I literally just set foot into the house. Come on in!’’

Piotr waits in your living room, taking in the minimalistic nature of your apartment. He settles down onto your sofa, but doesn’t let himself get too comfortable.

You sift through your wardrobe, trying to pick an outfit that would match with Piotr’s.

‘’Hey, Piotr?’’

His head perks up. ‘’Da?’’’

‘’Could you come here for a sec? I need some help picking out a dress.’’

You hear the sofa breathe out as he lifts himself off. He stands at your doorway and watches you, bent over from the waist, ass propped up as your search takes you deeper into your wardrobe.

His eyes run over the curves of your body, stopping at the hem of your shirt – now hiked up just enough that your red lacey panties were peeking out from underneath.

Piotr instinctively looks away, a light blush settling onto his cheeks.

 He looks back as he hears you get up back to your feet, holding two dresses in each of your hands. One was a elegant knee-length maroon cocktail dress – made from a beautiful chiffon material that brought out the colour vibrantly.

The other was a light grey, open-back that fit snugly on your body – with pretty floral details at the waist.

‘’Okay, so it’s down to these two.’’ You showcase them over your body, switching them out as Piotr takes a good look. He tilts his head, considering them.

When he finally picks one out, you nod an affirmative – pleased with his choice of dress; and the one you were drawn to anyway.

 He looms at the doorway as you get changed, unaware of the way he’s watching over you – the subtle ways your body moves – tossing the sweatshirt off your body before trying to get the dress up and over you – arms through the openings, smoothing it down as you check yourself out in the mirror.

When you turn back to look at him, he looks away immediately, like he’d been caught in the act – which causes a rumbling laughter from you.

‘’You can look as much as you want, handsome.’’

‘’I didn’t mean– I apologise for th–‘’

and as he stumbles over his words, you tread towards him, tiptoeing and pulling him into a light thoughtful kiss.

‘’Don’t apologise. I want your eyes on me. As much as you want.’’ You whisper into his ear, and you could feel him burn up.

You take to getting yourself ready – going onto to wear some makeup, paired with bold red lipstick.

Piotr regards you – completely transfixed with the way you get ready – as you apply your eyeliner; flinching when you almost poke yourself in the eye, then pout your lips as you slowly pull the lipstick across – your bottom lip gathering to one side from the downward pressure, then pulling back into place as you ease it into the other side.

It was all a treat to Piotr. To be able to see you, getting ready especially for him. He has his face resting on his hand – his hooded eyes observing with a gentle, enchanted gaze – as he leans his body against your door way.

You put the finishing touches onto your look – going for a stylishy messy look for your hair. When you look back at yourself in the mirror, you feel a sudden sense of fatigue engulf your body.

You sigh, a deep exhale that alerts Piotr; prompting him to get closer to you.

‘’Is everything alright, myshka?’’ He places a reassuring hand on your back.

‘’I don’t know, Petey. I suddenly feel… so exhausted.’’ Your tilt your head at him, your eyelids giving way, as you try to blink away the tiredness.

‘’You should rest then, myshka.’’ His low voice full of concern. ‘’We can always go for dinner another day – I know your work can sometimes take up the earliest of mornings, and I would rather you take a break if you need to.’’ He was sincere. No ounce of passive-aggressiveness you had experienced from previous loves.

‘’But I also want to be with you.’’ You grumble.

‘’And me as well.’’ His hand brushes away a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. ‘’We could have dinner right here, if you would prefer that?’’

A smile crosses your face at that. It was the perfect solution.

‘’Okay, but how about we stay dressed up long enough for a picture? You look like an absolute stud, Rasputin, and I’d hate for that to go to waste. I’d also like to look good for you too.’’

You tread towards him, your hands twisting around his waist – feeling the polite delicate wool of his vest gather back snugly behind him, as you pull yourself close to him; letting your head rest nicely against his comfortable chest.

A light woody musk fills your nostrils, one that takes place in your mind as your new favourite cologne.

‘‘Piotr… Thank you for understanding. It means so much to me.’’ You hum into his chest.

His lips graze your forehead, as he inhales your hair – in the way lovers do when they’re glad to be with you. ‘’Anything for you, my love.’’

You let yourself linger in the swirling warmth gathering in both your chests – eyes closed as you feel the slow relaxed beating of his heart. You pull back a little to look up at him – and let your fingers graze the side of his cheek.

He encases a hand around yours, bringing it from his cheek to his lips – placing a soft kiss on the inside of your palm – eliciting a light chuckle from you.

‘’What an absolute gentleman.’’

You grab your old Polaroid from the top shelf of your wardrobe. ‘’C’mon big guy, give me the good stuff.’’

You dial the Polaroid’s timer, clicking as you place it onto your dresser. You pull Piotr down onto one knee, with one propped up – letting yourself sit on his thigh as you held onto him with an arm over his shoulder.

‘’Smile for the camera!’’ You instruct joyously;

and as he looks into the lens with his million-dollar smile, you plant a big one on his cheek as you hold his face close to yours, and his lips grow wider.

CLICK

A flash illuminates your pose, and the camera whirrs out the picture as you giggle into Piotr’s ear.

‘’How was that for a candid?’’

Piotr turns to you smiling, eyes wide in request. ‘’If I may, could we have one more, where I am the one surprising you with a kiss?’’

You beam at his innocent request – posed as if there would ever be a universe where you’d have said no.

You take another picture, with Piotr’s soft lips on the side of your cheek. As the flash goes off and the camera whirrs out the polaroid, you shift to grab the picture – but something you holds you back, and before you realise, Piotr has you held close to him – your body arched as his hand supports the small of your back, your feet tittering backward like you were about to fall – as his lips hastily meets yours, his tongue getting the smallest of tastes – before pulling away.

Your raise an eyebrow, with a smirk that asks what was that all about?

‘’I just couldn’t help myself, myshka.’’ He shrugs, and you can’t help but chuckle.

In the next few hours, you manage to find the biggest pair of sweatpants you own, together with the biggest shirt you own –

a comfy cotton navy blue shirt with a pink cartoon cat shooting a party canon filled with rainbow streamers.

It was a sight to behold – and one you didn’t want to forget – which prompts you to take a polaroid of him holding onto a pillow under his arm; a hand trying to cover his face as he smiles against his palm.

That was one for the books for sure.

The rest of the evening was spent lounging around in the living room – you in your comfiest purple pyjamas; with a matching pyjama hat that Piotr insisted you wore as payback for the party cat polaroid, and snaps a picture of you when you weren’t looking.

You order some take-out. Chinese was always a pleasant and mostly risk-free cuisine – and Piotr didn’t seem to mind. You put on some cheesy rom-com movies, and when you get bored, Piotr suggests some classic Russian films.

You watch, asking him questions about the language, the customs and everything one needed to know – snuggling closer at every opportunity, as his voice articulates and corrects words that you try to mimic from the movies.

A few minutes pass, before he speaks again.

‘’You know so much about me, but I know very little of you.’’

His sudden interest makes you choke on your noodles, but you swallow it down in a gulp. But he, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice.

‘’I would like to know more, if you do not mind speaking of it?’’ He requests, with that smile and twinkling eyes that you could never say no to.

You contemplate for a moment. There was no harm in telling him where you came from but there was going to be details you would need to omit – for the sake of safety; both his and yours.

Not to mention, the fact that you really weren’t one of the good guys made you question if it would be worth it.

He’d never accept what I am as I am.

You decide to tell him what you can – he deserved as much; the place you grew up, the schools you went to, the very many hobbies you had – all facts as true as can be.

He listens, completely invested and interested in the many details of your life. He interjects, with questions;

‘’Did you like that?’’

‘’That sounds wonderful!’’

‘’Bhoze! You really got away from the police?’’

It was clear in his captivated tone of voice, intermittent laughing at your anecdotes, that he was absolutely fascinated.

There was a feeling of adoration you haven’t felt in a long while. Your chest wells in the moment as he shares both stories similar to yours, as well as directly opposite.

 The night moves on, as you lounge against him on the couch, both your legs stretched out on the sofa – caressing his large hands, fondly thumbing over the lines of his palm and fingers.

He does his own version of it – his other hand, warm and firm over your stomach, gently running circles around the soft skin of your belly – where you feel tiny sparks dispersing through with each skim of his touch.

‘’So, your job now is to handle artwork shipment for the gallery, Da?’’ He asks.

You do a mental double take, trying to come up with a solid cover story – you had loads of those tucked away in your brain, but you had to choose the right one.

‘’Well, I do mostly freelance work. My boss assigns me various jobs – and shipment is one of them. I did criminal law – so my main job is being a lawyer, though only if I’m needed.’’ The backstory flows out of you, and though it might all be there was to it, it was the closest description of what counted as "work" for you.

‘’That sounds very interesting, myshka. You must be very bright and reliable if you can handle that many jobs on your plate. Surely a person of great character.’’

The pride and admiration in his voice makes your chest swell with delight, but you realise that you aren’t showcasing the whole story - just the meagre edges of it. You swat away the doubts to the back of your mind. It was for the best after all.

You shift your body over, laying on your stomach, now facing Piotr.

‘’Now that we’re done with my history, what about yourself, Rasputin? Let me guess, you’re either still a farmer, a fitness coach or maybe even some kind of firefighter…? So which one is it?’’ You jokingly ask.

 Piotr stops to think for a moment.

She couldn’t possibly be someone who was against mutants, could she?

He decides that, perhaps, it would be easier for the both of you if he were to keep his identity under wraps – he surely didn’t want to introduce you to the other X-Men either; all was much too risky. And having a place outside the mansion where he could be relaxed without worries or obligations was much too good to pass off – especially when all of it was with you.

 ‘’Da, I am a firefighter. My hours are a little bit… unconventional – but they pay bills.’’ He divulges, his voice wavering a little – like he was unsure. There’s a sense of guilt that moves into him, but one he’s willing to tolerate for the time being.

‘’I knew it! Those muscles are made for the best, aren’t they?’’ You feel up his chest, as he smiles at your satisfaction at being on the nose about his career.

Just imagining Piotr in the standard yellow firefighters’ uniform, running – determined – towards a burning building with a hose over his shoulder, or helping a kitten out a tree – felt like it was the perfect job for him.

Of course, you could easily do a database search with his name and figure out if he is who he says he is... But wasn’t the whole point of this to make sure you both had as normal of a relationship as you could bring to the table?

You throw out those thoughts from your head, not willing to build on the flaws of this relationship, and instead, accepting the present for what it was.

And besides, you knew just the thing to ease the sudden tension that had taken residence in the air.

You slip off of Piotr, your legs hitting the floor with a thud – "Where are yo–" he stops mid-sentence as you disappear into the kitchen.

He hears the abrupt suction releasing from the door of the refrigerator, followed by a marked skid of the ice cream tub under the shelf as your hand wraps around the chilled frost amassed around the tub – and before long you were back in the same room as him, cradling a big tub of your favourite ice cream under your left arm as your right holds up two spoons, clinking together as you offer one to Piotr.

He sits upright, but doesn't take the spoon, and instead continues looking up at you.

You nudge the spoon further toward him, thinking that he hadn't noticed.

But then, he gives you a smirk; before gently tugging you by the waist, and pulling you onto his lap – a position to which you happily obliged to, thanks to his more than generous thighs.

You feel a steady heat move up to your cheeks, as you nestle back into his chest – with the feel of his chin resting nicely against your collarbone as he turns his head – his lips purposely brushing across your neck as he spoke.

"Dessert so soon?"

The movement of his lips, and the feel of his hot breath sends a ticklish sensation against your neck – and in the giggling aftermath, you drop your spoon.

You share the tub of ice-cream - with the one clean spoon - finishing it just as the end credits roll for the third movie of the night. You decide that it was as good a time as any to head to bed.

‘’Hey… I was thinking… Why don’t you stay the night? If you don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow morning that is…’’ You ask, trying your best to sound casual.

Piotr checks his watch, then his phone – a light frown creasing his brows at the screen; you see there were no notifications – which probably meant he was expecting something.

He hums, a decision dancing around his head before he looks back to you.

‘’I would love to, myshka. And it is just my luck that I do not have any work in the morning.’’

‘’Well then, you can count us both lucky.’’ You wink, before pressing a kiss on his cheek. ‘’C’mon, I’ll find us some more pillows.’’ You hop off the couch and head towards your room – pulling Piotr behind you by the hand before shutting the door behind you.

 ***

‘’’For fuck’s sake…’’ Cable laments to the screen showing the traffic surveillance camera feed – zoomed into a very pixelated recording of a motorcyclist who wasn’t wearing a helmet; and when the feed tries to stabilize the view, another pulse disfigures the view into pixels again.

‘’Well, we knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Those EM pulses were strong. They messed with the feeds surrounding the area as well. But if we got further back from where she escaped, we could tap into some of the neighbourhood surveillance cam’s.’’ NTW taps swiftly onto the touchpad.

‘’A license plate might not cut it. Follow the pixelated view down to whichever street or neighbourhood she turns into. We can narrow our search from there.’’ Cable instructs, taking a swig out of his coffee mug. ‘’Where’s Colossus? Thought he’d be back by midnight.’’

‘’Well, he did say to contact him if there were developments. Maybe he’s spending the night. I think it’s good that he’s getting out.’’ NTW smiles at the thought of her mentor getting out of the house for once.

‘’Well, I think that it’s totally unfair that he wouldn’t let me join! I’d be the perfect third to any duo!’’ Wade calls out as he enters the workroom, carrying with him a plate full of warm cookies, as he chows down on one. Yukio appears behind, gently swatting at his hand – ‘’Wade, those are for the detectives!’’

NTW’s frown turns into a smile at the presence of Yukio – who presents a cup of coffee towards NTW, offering with it a sweet smile.

‘’Wow, looks like love is in the air, huh… TinMan and Mystery Lady… Justin Bieber and Pinky Pie….’’ Deadpool remarks, before giving Cable a suggestive look – who only rolls his eyes at him before stepping back to the desk to get a closer look at the neighbourhood that the motorcyclist turned into.

He zooms into the nearby signage – green with white letters, hanging plainly mid-way on the streetlamps. He sets down his cup, a smirk appearing against the stubble of his chin.

‘’Jackpot.’’

 ***

 You both get comfortable in the darkness of the room, against the ambience of the street outside – cars driving past, the winds gently brushing past the leaves.

You gather Piotr into your arms as he settles down on the bed, pulling up the comforter as he cozies up next to you.

‘’This is nice.’’ You breathe, nuzzling close to him, as you stretch out your legs around his waist – bolstering him from the side, letting your arm snake around his stomach – as you give a good petting to the smooth graphic of the party canon cat on his shirt.

‘’Da, it always is, being with you.’’ He places a soft kiss on your temple.

You smile up close to his neck, eyes closed. The tugs of exhaustion from the day finally catches up with the both of you – as you’re lulled to sleep by the presence of one another.

 And for the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of solace, and security – that all was right in the world.

Taglist! @emma-frxst @fluffymadamina 

[unlicensedlobotomist]

Caged Larks Do Not Sing

Chapter 3- Plane Sick

(ao3 link)

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

WARNING: Depictions of violence, major character death

Being thrown in jail was not something the Luminary of the Stars ever expected would happen to him, but there he was. Momota had tried to explain to the head paramedic he hadn’t meant to hurt Ouma that bad: he had only hit his head on the floor, and he wasn’t dead. The blood was just from his prank, nothing else. She told him to sit down though, and to let her and her co-worker do their work to help Ouma. She spoke, an air of command to her voice, but Momota could see the fear in her eyes; she was bluffing He continued to try to convince her but soon obliged to sit down in a nearby chair.

No sooner than he had, the police arrived. The paramedics spoke to them in hushed voices, trying to prevent Momota from hearing. He stood, attempting to butt in, but was quickly intersected and bombarded with questions by a second officer.

“Where were you tonight?”

“I was out with a friend?”

“Who?”

“Yukimori Soichiro, he’s my old--”

“How long were you both out?”

“About 2 hours. Is Ko--”

“Do you know the victim?”

“Will you let me finish a sentence?! Fuck, yeah I know Kokichi, is he okay?!”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“WHO THE FUCK CARES!! IS KOKICHI OKAY?!”

Two other officers had come over to calm him down and to restrain him from throwing a drunken punch. He was certain he would end up with an attempted assault on an officer, but at the moment, he couldn’t care. They had brought Momota to the police station promptly after, where he was then fingerprinted, questioned, and detained. It was nearing  2 in the morning when they finally put him in a cell. He had opted to make his phone call in the morning, knowing his lawyer would probably not answer till his office hours, anyway.

He still couldn’t get over the fact Ouma was possibly dead, leaning more towards definitely at this rate. How? Who the hell would murder the gremlin? Yeah, he was annoying, Momota knew this from experience, but annoying enough to murder? No. Yes, his pranks sometimes got out of hand, and he didn’t know how to apologize for them properly (once Momota had received a ten thousand yen gift card to a coffee shop only in Tokyo when Ouma had destroyed his garden to the point he had to replant almost everything) but they were never so bad it caused irreparable harm.

Sleeping was difficult, thoughts pounding as he mulled over why someone would murder Ouma. His sleep was only disrupted when the sun hit him directly in the eyes. With a groan, Momota stood up from the metal bench (which was far from comfortable) in the cell and tried to get someone’s attention. It hadn’t taken too long, as the guard was passing by his cell to get back to his desk. The guard was a young man, more than likely in his early twenties, who smiled at Momota, and talked to him. He was excited to see the astronaut in person, even though, all things considered it was a downer. Momota briefly forgot why he had been trying to flag him down, discussing for a moment about space and his work. He only realized that his train of thought had trailed away when his hand slipped down the metal bar.

“Hey, I’m sorry, but I gotta make my phone call. Can you take me to the phone?”

The officer blinked, realizing himself where he was and nodding. “Of course, I’m sorry. Who do you need to call?”

Momota gave it some thought. His lawyer was definite, but he wondered if he should call his Grandfather. He decided against it though. His grandfather had gone senile after his grandmother passed, and he may just end up confusing him with this entire thing. Momota decided visiting in person would be best if this got worst and he needed to explain to him where he was. He wasn’t sure who else he may have needed to call at the moment, but then it hit him.

“Is there any way I could have two calls?”

------------------------------------------------------

“Akamatsu, how is Berlin-”

“Huh? It’s Kaito. Shuichi, Listen, I… I need your help.”

“Oh.” Saihara hadn’t meant to speak in such a disappointed manner, but it was how it came out. The informality that he had once been so excited to hear had somehow stung now. He hadn’t heard anyone call him by his first name in years, aside from his aunt and uncle, and it had felt… wrong.  “I’m sorry, Momota-kun,” He attempted to exaggerate saying Momota’s surname, hoping maybe he would take the hint. Knowing Momota, though, 5 years of radio silence between them didn’t mean he wouldn’t just jump right back into how things were. “I was expecting another call. What can I help you with?”

“It’s really bad, Shuichi.” Momota’s voice sounded gruff like he hadn’t had a glass of water in a long time. To say this began to draw Shuichi’s concern was an understatement. Yes, they hadn’t spoken over the phone in years, but he still knew Momota’s voice, and he knew even if Kaito was in trouble he’d still be brash about it.

“Kokichi’s dead.”

Saihara blinked, the name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite recall where he had heard it. He wondered for a moment why Momota would call him about this he could have left him a message on Facebook or something, like he usually did. “Who’s Kokichi?”

“... Ouma? You don’t remember Ouma? He harassed us all throughout high school. How could you possibly forget?” The tone of Momota’s voice made Saihara almost feel bad for not remembering the given name of a classmate he was never fond of. He shook his head, sighing softly.

“Oh, uh, sorry. No, I remember Ouma, I never called him by his first name. He’s dead? How did he die?” A part of Saihara felt this was just one of Ouma’s pranks that maybe Momota had fallen for. He was rather susceptible to falling for such things in high school, and a part of himself found it hard to believe Ouma would be dead.

“... He was murdered.” There was a mixture of frustration and sadness coating Momota’s words, Saihara could visualize him punching the closest wall in frustration as he spoke. The questions in his eyes as he wondered why this happened. He shook his head again though, letting the moment fade from his mind’s eye as Momota spoke again. “They think I killed him.”

“Wait what?” Saihara felt almost lost for words, not sure how else to respond to that statement. “What do you mean they think you murdered him? Why? Where was the body found? Where were you--”

“I’m in jail! I can’t answer a ton of questions! I could only convince them to let me have two phone calls, and I get 5 minutes for each!!” Anger came out in his words as he cut him off, but Momota quickly calmed his voice when he realized his anger was misplaced. It hadn’t been Saihara’s fault he was there. “Listen, I’m having my lawyer send you money for the next flight here. We’ll talk more once you get here, but I want you to come here as fast as possible.”

“I…” Saihara paused. He wanted to help Momota, and it wasn’t as though anything was holding him back from doing so. A sadness hit him though at the realization that this hadn’t been a call between friends. This was a service call. Momota saw him as the Ultimate Detective, and not as Saihara Shuichi anymore. A part of him wanted to tell him he couldn’t go, the part that felt the painful cut ties of the once strong friendship. He took a deep breath, though, and sighed out of obligation. “I mean, of course. I can be there as soon as possible, Momota-san.”

------------------------------------------

A plane from the Narita International Airport in Chiba to New Chitose Airport in Hokkaido was not a long one, 2 hours at the most, but Saihara felt like the nearly 10-hour train ride would have been better on his stomach. Sure, Momota had sent him the little over twelve thousand yen to get the next flight available, but Saihara had wished nearly five minutes in that he had paid the extra fifteen thousand to just take the trains. He could have lied and told Momota that the plane had been the next day.

However, this was a rather important matter, and his comfort in transportation could be dealt with on the ride home. Saihara looked over a rough transcript he wrote after he had finished the call with Momota. The conversation was still vivid enough in his head, but it was always good to keep such things for record. It was still… Crazy. Ouma was dead. He would have never called Ouma a friend by any means, and he supposed under normal circumstances his death would have been a blip on his radar and vanish just as fast. The fact someone murdered him was… Well, he hated to admit, unsurprising. Ouma knew how to push people’s buttons and had the tendency of going too far. The fact someone would want to murder him over it seemed extreme, but not inconceivable. Saihara had seen people kill for far less.

Why was Momota being framed for the murder, though? In high school, the two had butted heads more times than Saihara could count. Nothing worth murdering over, though. Not to mention that had been over ten years ago. If he had more time to speak to him, maybe he could’ve gotten more details about what was happening. Even his lawyer had been very hushed on what had occurred, probably fearful Saihara would take the money and just tell the media about the mess. He still needed to talk to Momota, and the authorities, of course, but he still would have liked more details going into this.

Saihara wished he had asked Momota if he had booked him a hotel to stay at during the investigation. After he gathered all the information he could, he wanted to go somewhere he could put it all together quietly. A place to just lay down to think. He knew he could write it down in the bill he would inevitably have to give Momota for his services, but a part of him felt wrong for even thinking about giving Momota that.

Should he really feel wrong about giving a man who hadn’t spoken to him in 5 years a bill? Probably not. It’s not as though he hadn’t “spoken” to him at all. He’d get the occasional text and Facebook message, but none of the conversations were what they used to be. They had become short and had long silences in between. At first, Saihara had chalked it up to Momota going to a different college, which then became training, work, and eventually going to space. Soon, though, it felt like he was making excuses for the astronaut’s absence. He had become only a step on the long ladder that was Momota’s life.

He had felt incredibly hurt when it hit him that the person he had trusted so much in high school may have let go of him. He kept dwelling on the thought for longer than he’d liked to admit, letting it settle to the pit of his stomach. After months of feeling like he had lost a part of himself, he could push himself to move on. He had talked about it to Akamatsu and his therapist, and he felt like his skin had toughened and things like silence from people that once meant so much no longer cut so deep.

He hoped that was true enough after he left this case.

Saihara arrived before getting too sick on the plane and thankfully was informed upon his arrival that a car had been brought to take him to his intended destination two-and-a-half hours away. He was grateful that, presumably; the lawyer had thought ahead and had not expected him to find a rental car in such a short notice. The car was rather spacious and even had a privacy window between him and the driver. Still, Saihara felt that was not enough privacy to speak on his phone to the police.Hopefully the lawyer would let him look at the case file. He rested his head against the cool glass of the window, moving the lip of his hat to get a more comfortable position. A quick look at his watch revealed it to be almost two in the afternoon.

It was not the most ideal time for a nap, but it certainly would make the trip go faster.

---------------------------

The police station was unusually quiet - no news vans or reporters floating about. It wasn’t like every day they arrested a famous astronaut, but Saihara supposed that it could have been possible it hadn’t been leaked yet—though that was an unlikely possibility. Saihara took a quick look around the lobby, noting that there were a few people lingering about. Two people were quietly sitting close to the door, one looking through the doorway, the other holding his head down. Both men looked tired, the one with his head down clutching something so tightly in his hands, Saihara swore they were turning purple. The other was softly rubbing his back, his concerned gaze falling on Saihara for a moment before returning to his friend. Across from them was a man sleeping handcuffed to the bench, and near the reception was an older man dressed in a nice suit. Saihara made his way to him, knowing the look of a lawyer when he saw one. He opened his mouth to introduce himself, but was cut off.

“Saihara Shuichi, I presume.” The lawyer looked at him, and Saihara suddenly felt as though someone had caught him cutting class in his presence. He bowed politely to the man.

“How did you know?” Saihara spoke finally after rising again.

“My client described what you looked like,” The lawyer shook his head, looking over Saihara. “I also looked you up before sending you any money, you’re a detective, correct?”

“I am.” Saihara inwardly sighed. He felt eyes on his back, looking down at the floor because of the feeling of too many people staring at him. “Ah, where is--”

“My client,” The lawyer said in a firm voice as he cut Saihara off. “Would not allow me to post bail until you arrived. I will do so now. He asked if you would go to see him when you got here.” He pointed towards the double doors leading to the holding cells. Saihara looked towards them and hesitated.

He stood there for a moment looking at the doors, unsure of how to proceed. What would he say to Momota? Hello? A simple greeting felt too small, but he wasn’t sure what to say otherwise. He could feel sweat forming on his brow. Swallowing, he made his way towards them.

--------------------------------

Momota paced back and forth in his cell, stopping periodically to look to the clock on the wall. It was a few minutes after four now; he had been in here for over twelve hours. He could have left. His lawyer was waiting in the lobby to post bail, but Momota had asked him to wait for Saihara. The man had looked at Momota like he had gone mad, but what else was he supposed to do? Saihara knew to come to the police station, and even if Momota left now, going back home by himself didn’t seem like a good option. Who knows what the police still left there. Momota doubted they left the body, but what if they did? He didn’t want to walk in and see Ouma’s corpse cold on the floor. They may not even let him go back, it was an active crime scene.

Momota sighed, stopping mid pace through the cell. Looking back at the clock. 4:17 PM. He groaned. Why was it taking so long for Saihara to get here? Maybe he could have called his lawyer over and asked him to post bail early, but sitting in the police's lobby seemed less enjoyable. Too many people would have eyes on him there, and they wouldn’t be kind looks. At least here in the cell, he was isolated from others. The isolation was killing him, though.

Pacing again. The repetitive motion was soothing somehow: going around in a circle after circle after circle, eyes focused strictly on an off color grey brick on an otherwise perfectly uniform wall, only losing the sight for a breath before it was back in view. He had become so fixated on it, a part of him felt panicked when he could no longer see the brick. A breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding would release when it returned to his view. The process repeated over and over and had honestly given Momota a headache.

“You pace a LOT when you’re not sure what to do, did you know that?”

Yeah, I know that.

“You should TOTALLY keep doing it, it’s not at ALL annoying to watch.”

Stop watching then.

“Oh, now why would I do that when it’s so entertaining to watch you go in tiny circles for hours? Honestly, I should have brought popcorn and--”

Kokichi, I swear to fucking--

Momota stopped and slumped down on the closest bench in the cell. He held his head for a moment.

At least I don’t bite my thumb off when I’m uncertain, like someone.

“I still have three quarters of my right thumb, I didn’t bite it all off!”

That’s doesn’t make it better...

“What are you thinking about anyway, Kai-chan?”

What was Momota thinking about? A conversation that took place years ago? Why? He rubbed his eyes, sighing to himself.

“... Momota-san?”

Momota looked up, letting the troubled look fall away and a grin clear away the tired of his face.

“Shuichi!”

The sudden change in Momota’s sullen appearance had nearly startled Saihara. It was almost like he was watching a sad puppy who just heard a squeaky toy go off. He gave a nod at his name, watching as the guard on duty opened the cell up to let Momota out. With a sudden burst of energy, Momota pounced. He made his way quickly over to Saihara, getting the smaller man trapped into a tight bear hug.

“I’ve missed you, sidekick! How have you been? How’s life been? Have you been keeping in contact with HaruMaki? She lives in Tokyo too, last I heard--”

“Momota-san—I can’t breathe--” Saihara wheezed out the words, causing Momota to pause briefly to release him. A short, chuckled “sorry” left his lips before he went to continue his tirade of questions. Saihara quickly stopped him before he could let another word leave his lips.

“We need to talk about Ouma’s murder, Momota-san.”

“Can’t we do that later? I haven’t seen you in, what? Three years--?”

“Seven years, Momota-san.”

“SEVEN YEARS???” Momota’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What do you mean?? Our high school has that picnic, you and I--”

“I haven’t attended that picnic in five years, Momota-san. We could not have been there together three years ago.”

Momota’s demeanor deflated for a moment, lost in thought. “Seven years… Fuck, I can’t believe I lost track of time that bad.” A smiled returned, just as vibrant as any galaxy. “Well, that just means I have to make triple sure we make up for lost time then, right?” His hand clapped against Saihara’s shoulder, making the shorter man flinch and back away from the touch. A trace of confusion came and went quickly on Momota’s face. He gave a friendly shrug and a laugh, heading for the way out. “Well, come on now! Have you been to Hokkaido before, Shuichi?”

“Momota-san, we should talk about Ouma--”

“Man, come on, that’s so dark. We can talk about all that later, can’t we? I’ve been locked in a jail cell since last night, let’s go get lunch and catch up.”

Saihara was flabbergasted to say the least. He watched, frozen in place as Momota made his way to the door leading to the lobby. The carefree attitude was… astonishing. How could someone accused of murder have such an attitude? Was he so certain he’d be found without guilt just because Saihara was there? He was a decent enough detective, but even then he wasn’t sure he could succeed. He opened his mouth as if to protest, though he wasn’t sure what to say as it hung open in a state of disbelief.

Momota looked back as he opened the door, blinking at the sight of the confused Saihara. “What’s the matter?” He chuckled, holding the door open. “Come on, I’m sure you’re hungry! I feel like I have eaten nothing in forever! Have you eaten since the plane?”

“... No, I suppose I haven’t.” Saihara finally let his shoulders fall with a defeated sigh. He knew Momota would still be Momota no matter what, and that he should not have been surprised a murder would be sidelined by his stomach. He made his way towards him, Momota opening the doors wide and entering the main lobby.

The motion had been quick and unexpected. Saihara barely had time to register it all as a body came full force and slammed a fist right into Momota’s face before just colliding fully and slamming him to the ground. Saihara quickly stepped out of the way as the man who had been with him quickly went to grab his friend.

“WHAT THE FUCK--?!” Momota exclaimed, grabbing his cheek. The anger in his face vanished though, and Saihara stood confused. Momota had the tendency to change emotions quick, but this was too quick even for him to drop anger.

“H-H-Ho—You—YOU FUCKER.” The man stared down at him, his words barely escaping him. Messy black hair almost obstructed the hot tears streaming down his cheeks. His friend, a rather tall, thin framed man with soft sandy hair covering his face, rubbed his shoulders, softly speaking to him.

“You said you just wanted to talk--”

“HE TRUSTED YOU!! HOW COULD YOU?!”

“We should go.” The friend felt the eyes of officers approaching. Saihara quickly looked down at Momota and noticed his eyes were locked on something. Following his gaze, Saihara realized it had been on the fist that had punched him. The man had finally loosened the hold on the item he held so tightly when Saihara had walked in.

It was a checkered scarf.