#hire me in your front office motherfuckers
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PHL @ EDM 1.2.24 || mattias ekholm you will not see heaven
#the way he forces him down im physically ill#travis konecny#flyers#philadelphia flyers#flyers lb#my stuff#anyway the fact that he did this when tk was already injured#and then tk got up#skated away#and then SCORED#hockey players are A. built different#and B. fucking stupid#i need them to get an enforcer for tk and michkov when he comes#michkov is only 5'10“ 170 lbs and tk is 5'10”/5'11“#and he is getting fucking BULLIED#kaprizov is built like a tank n look what they fucking did to HIM!#find a big dude built for the penalty box#and give him a few years protecting ur mad little russian#and you have a cup!#hire me in your front office motherfuckers
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Average -- Silco Smutshot
Rating: Explicit || Word Count: 2.4k
Content Warnings: Boss/Employee relationship, flirting, vaginal fingering, flirting
Masterlist || AO3 Link
Beta reader: @silcoitus <3
You were sweating like a motherfucker.
You had never really made much of yourself. As a kid you were quiet and unassuming, sticking to the inside edge of the sidewalk and letting people pass you by. Now, you’ve landed a decent job bartending at the club of the Undercity: The Last Drop. One would argue that’s not the most low-profile job, but you manage to make it relatively quiet.
The first time you spoke to your boss was during your interview, and he promptly hired you at the end of it. That was also the last time you spoke to your boss and you were quite happy with that fact. You hadn’t been so fond of the way he stared you down, like you were a simple snack he’d indulge in on a work break. You much prefer not being looked at to being look down upon.
Unfortunately for you, you’re going to get looked down upon again. And likely die.
You were cleaning up some things around the bar a few hours in advance to the night life kick that always seemed to happy around 7 o’clock or so when Sevika came from downstairs. You heard her heavy boots on the staircase and started making a strong tequila concoction until you saw the look on her face and your stomach dropped.
Sevika was grinning at you, and Sevika never smiles. You abruptly stopped what you were doing and demanded to know what happened—what was wrong.
“Boss wants you.”
The worst three words you could possibly hear.
Now here you stand, after taking the longest amount of time possible to trudge up the stairs and make your way down the hall. However long that had been, it was enough time for a thin layer of sweat to dampen your palms, chest, forehead, armpits, everything.
You had heard enough about your boss so that you were comfortable never exchanging more than a quick point of eye contact with him. Fingernails torn out, limbs removed, tongues cut out, eyes gouged. You weren’t ready to abandon your comfortably invisible life for a fate like that.
You’re still not ready for it, but it might happen today anyhow.
The door knob slips between your sweaty fingers and you take another embarrassing attempt to open the door. Of course the hinges have to squeal obnoxiously when you enter—as they have never squealed before now—and you can’t help but look up and enjoy the last few minutes of your life. As anxiety-filled as they may be.
To your relief, Silco isn’t looking back at you. That’s probably a good sign, right?
His office, that you’ve only been in once or twice before, smells strongly of the cigars he’s fond of, the ones whose smoke is usually permeating the ceiling of the club. The lighting isn’t too bad either. The green is unsurprising, considering the bright sign outside the establishment, but you’re caught off guard by the large stained glass window that had left your memory until seen again.
You close the door, and now Silco looks up. He stops writing—which you hadn’t noticed he’d been doing until he paused—and the window seems to make him glow. A strange little halo of light beams from behind him, and the unusual mixture of color with the lamplight from his desk somehow compliments his pallid skin tone.
Silco doesn’t say anything, only cocking an eyebrow at you.
“You- um- you wanted me? Sir?” The words stumble clumsily from your mouth, and you have to work against your base reflexes to not cringe at your own stupidity.
Silco hums, narrowing his eyes at you.
“Come, sit,” he beckons, pointedly nodding to the chair in front of his desk.
You do so without a word, tripping over your feet before managing to land in the seat without crashing or something ridiculous like that.
“Whatever I did, sir,” you begin, working up the courage to moderately plead for your life, “I didn’t mean it and there’s got to be some way to fix it.”
As you nervously wring your hands together, Silco’s brow curls in for a second before he throws his head back and lets out a generous laugh.
What.
You smile awkwardly, letting out a hesitant chuckle of your own as your eyes linger anxiously on Silco’s amused grin.
“You think I’m going to kill you?” he asks, and you can’t say you’ve seen him more pleased—or at least you haven’t heard of him being more pleased. He must be able to tell just by the look on your face that you were fearing exactly that, because Silco chuckles again.
“No, no,” he assures, his expression maturing into something more neutral. Or is it just calm? You can’t tell. You’re too focused on the relieving breath you can finally let out, the rigid tension of your body melting away as Silco tells you that you are, in fact, not going to die.
“I had a curious thought. You always do just enough to do your job right, but there’s nothing ever of notice or reward,” he sighs, leaning onto his elbows. “Have you always been so… average?”
Double what.
There’s no accusation in his tone, and he’s not making fun of you. He’s genuinely confused.
“Oh. Um, yeah, I guess so.” Looking back on it, he’s right. It was kind of what you aimed for.
Silco’s brows raise in thoughtful consideration at that and he pulls back his arms, beginning to work the cuffs of his sleeves.
“Is that who you really are?” He offers a warm smile, as if that’s such a casual thing to ask. He manages to make it feel that way—natural. You feel at ease with the way he looks at you.
He rolls up one sleeve, and starts on the other, an idle set of motions as you decipher his words and chew on your own.
“What do you mean by that?” You eye the reveal of Silco’s pale forearms none too subtly, biting back a grin at the thin sinew and bone that flexes with the flick of his wrist.
Silco laughs to himself. “You can’t be that boring.” His voice is soft, considerate. “There must be more to you.”
“You ask all of your employees these questions?” You try your best to sound nonchalant when you speak but you’re not sure it comes out the way you want it to as you watch Silco flex his long fingers.
Janna’s tits, those fingers… am I getting paid for this meeting or do I get some other kind of... compensation?
You press your thighs together at that thought. As intrusive as getting fingered by Silco might be, you can’t find it in you to think Hell no! Not from my boss!
In your head, it’s starting to sound more like, Hell yes, from my boss!
Silco’s eyebrow—the one not drawn on—gives a little tick and he looks you up and down, the fire in his gaze feeling less and less professional with every passing second. This is going down a certain hole and you’re not opposed to it at all, however good or bad that may be. There’s not a care in your mind, not with the way your face heats up from the barest attention he offers.
He definitely knows what you’re thinking.
With a quick movement, Silco pushes out his chair and stands, rounding to your side of the desk. He doesn’t walk more than he glides, taking long, fluid strides under your watchful gaze until he comes to a halt behind you.
“Only the ones I think are worth asking,” he hums. His hand is a sudden but gentle pressure on your shoulder, narrow fingers tapping a patient rhythm against your collarbone. You’re intoxicated by the heat of him so close, thankful you’re already sitting because if you were to stand you would be embarrassingly weak in the knees.
“You think I’m that special?” Your voice trembles at the edges and you can hear Silco’s smile in the laugh he keeps to himself. Your heart pounds behind your ribcage as his hand inches upwards, fingers spanning across your throat and lingering for the barest of moments before they continue up to your chin. He applies a slight pressure, and you tip your head back obediently, greeted with Silco’s smugness in upside-down format.
His other hand comes up, grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, and just when you think it will take the same journey as its twin, Silco surprises you. His fingers divert drawing back until he can lace them through the strands at the base of your neck, brushing through your hair with a jarring degree of tenderness.
“Quite special,” he murmurs, letting his hand run absently through your hair. You close your eyes, breathing in the nearby smell of him; smoke and expensive products that you couldn’t name if you tried.
“You’re special enough to learn,” he adds, and before you have a chance to ask him what he means, his fingers halt in their tracks and tangle into your hair, pulling hard.
Your yelp catches on a half-drawn breath, the muscles around your throat straining from the angle he tilts your head back at.
“Do you know what I mean by that, darling?” The pet name has you melting and you catch his clever smirk at your reaction.
“N-no.”
“I want to learn what makes you tick,” Silco purrs, releasing your hair and returning your proper breathing privileges. “What exactly will break you? What will have you sobbing my name into the morrow, hmm?”
He asks it like you have the damn answers.
If the flood downstairs is anything to go off of… “I’d say you’re on the right track to figuring it out,” you quip, voice breathy and weak and desperate.
Silco grins wryly, one hand grabbing your arm and pulling you up. Your world spins as Silco handles you to his liking, turning so your back is to the desk as he pushes you against it. His unmistakable hardness presses between the two of you and it sends a rush of heat to your head. Though, you are thankful you’re not the only one stupidly aroused at all of this.
Instead of responding with a quick-witted remark of his own, Silco crashes his lips onto yours, an action long-awaited and much-appreciated. Your surprise leaves your mouth agape and Silco takes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, invading with the strong taste of his whiskey and cigars.
You moan against him, fisting the lapels of his vest between your desperate fingers as if you could rip the garment off him. His hands respond in kind, pulling eagerly at your shirt and pulling it up your body. Your lips break away only to slide your top over your head before it’s thrown to the side and you have at each other once again.
You abandon your futile attempts at the complicated fabric of Silco’s chest, now helping him with your own pants. They’re shucked off in a hurry as Silco wraps hands under your thighs and lifts you onto the desk, slotting himself between your legs. He works to pull your panties off of you, leaving you to shiver at the cold that hits your wetness.
Just when you think he’ll throw your panties to the side as well, he stuffs them in his vest pocket.
“Safe keeping,” he says, smirking.
“You’re buying me another pair then,” you huff, watching with bated breath as Silco’s fingers dance featherlight touches up the insides of your thighs, a winning grin painted on his face.
“I’ll buy you hundreds more,” he says with a groan before he brings his thumb to circle your wet clit. Your moan is eagerly swallowed by his mouth as he kisses you again, all complaints of your undergarments long forgotten as you lose yourself to the blissful pressure of his ministrations. As subtle as they are for the time being, it’s a much-appreciated relief from the burning tension and ache he had left you with.
He gathers your wetness on his fingers, running teasing touches through your folds until he prods your entrance with two digits. He nudges, taunting, and the friction isn’t enough. You have to whine into his mouth for him to relent and finally penetrate you, curling both fingers against your walls at the most delightful angle.
“Most do better with positive reinforcement rather than negative,” Silco hums, letting your hips grind absently against his hand, “let’s test that sentiment, shall we?”
Silco’s hand begins to rock against you in kind, fingers thrusting and curling at a gentle pace. He eases the ache with gentle kisses to the bared skin of your throat. You’re already embarrassingly close to your climax, clenching around his fingers as his palm grinds into your sensitive clit.
“Perhaps if this happens more often you’ll give me a little more effort on the clock, hm?” Silco muses, working you effortlessly, as if he’d known your body over years rather than just locking onto your every sweet spot in a matter of minutes.
All you can do is whine, the syllables of his name drawn out in long, strained cries as he brings you closer and closer to your peak. His lips are upon your breasts, sucking red marks onto your skin before he takes a nipple between his teeth. Lords above, he's going to make you come, but you want this to last!
Your walls must be clenching feverishly around his fingers as testament to your restraint because Silco eases your ruminations.
“Come for me, darling,” he says, voice a breathy purr against your lips, “let me see it all come undone, whenever you’re ready.”
As if his ministrations weren’t enough, Silco’s words push you over the edge and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back on the table, sighing his name to the heavens. Just in the corner of your vision Silco is grinning, the heel of his palm grinding perfectly and his fingers crooking just so, working you through your high until it’s too much and you have to grab his wrist to get him to stop.
He’s careful when he pulls his fingers from you, and equally careful—if not a little bit tender—when he sits you up and pulls you into the thin expanse of his chest. His heartbeat is a steady thing beneath your ear and your own pulse seems to sync up to it as you climb down from your hearty orgasm.
“I knew there was more to you,” Silco muses, chin resting atop your head, “If you show me some authenticity in your work, I’ll really have no option but to reward you in a similar fashion to this.”
#silco#arcane#arcane silco#silco x reader#silco arcane#silco x you#mdni#smut#medic_simp#lilith writes
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The Fridges. Oh My God, The Fridges.
This is a continuation of the last piece I wrote on the weird shit that happens in classified facilities.
The building I work in has somewhere around 30-35 people in it. It also has around 20 fridges. There's kind of a saga that goes into this, so I'll start with the first part: The Hoarding.
The building has an insane overabundance of space. They just keep adding new rooms every time an old room needs an update, so it just sprawls on forever. There's also an extremely limited ability to get anyone who does not work full time in the building, into the building. This means that while we work on missiles, we also clean our own desks and vacuum the floors and mop and all of those other tasks that most places would consider "non-engineer work." This is fine if it's something anyone with a body can do, but this causes problems when you're looking at the physical limits of engineers. Namely, we are not very muscular people.
Thus, if something needs to get manhandled into a space, it gets manhandled by whatever group of nerds you can bribe, threaten, or guilt into joining you. When a fridge dies, it is a motherfucker to remove it from the building, so they often just...didn't. What they did instead was get the fridges onto dolleys, which isn't too bad, wheel those dolleys to the elevator, and then park them in a relatively empty part of the basement that we shall call The Graveyard of Fridges. This wasn't originally meant to be a permanent solution, but when you have space but lack muscles, it can become permanent really fast. Eventually, someone realized that you can padlock the fronts of the fridges and use them as document storage, which has the added perk of meaning that the people on site don't have to assemble more filing cabinets. Everyone here hates assembling filing cabinets. It's fucking terrible.
(It is worth noting that in this era, you would occasionally get directions to a secret file that looked like "1970's model, lime green, left crisper.")
We will call this the peak of the Hoarding Era. It is followed by the Mechanical Engineering Era.
Around 2015, it was realized that the group needed engineers familiar with industrial machinery, and not just standard electronics, so mechanical engineers (MEs) began to get hired. The new ME's made it a sort of rite of passage for proceeding new hires to repair an old fridge. So the site went from having 4 functioning fridges and 15ish being used for document storage to around 15 functioning fridges and 4 used for file storage.
Every time a fridge got fixed, people just put them back on the dolley, wheeled them back in the elevator, and got them wedged in their personal office spaces. If you were a bigwig, you might be able to get dibs on your own personal fridge, and if you were a new guy confined to the cubicle jungle you might have to share one with four or five other guys. But it was still a ludicrous amount of fridge space.
And that is how a base with 35 people on it wound up with 15 fridges.
#fridges#DoD#clearance#blogging#yes#this is what it's like working for shadowy government organizations#we do have a real lime green fridge#the mechanical engineers do have weirdly personal relationships with the fridge they fixed#0.428 fridges per person
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Chapter 10
Cona Security
Jasper
“Hello everyone! Welcome to Cona Security, and congratulations on becoming part of the team. You all did really well to get this far, here at Cona Security we take pride in providing the best service for online browsing security and you all stood out due to your skills and expertise”
My assistant, Emily, insisted that I join our onboarding for the new employees. But I was bored shitless. I could be doing anything else right now.
“As a part of your onboarding, we will show you around our company and give you a brief rundown of each department and their roles. Today will be a short day, but we expect you to be back here bright and early tomorrow to start your training” Emily spoke like she was reading a script. She’s always so formal, it’s eery.
“Let me introduce you to our owner and CEO, Jasper Connor! She has worked very hard to build this company from the ground up, so please give her your respect” just as I was about to fall asleep, Emily introduces me to these kids, forcing me to pay attention. Everyone’s eyes focused on me.
“Hello everyone. Cona Security has been in operation now for six years and it’s been an amazing journey. It’s amazing to see how far it’s come since then. Cona Security started out with just me as it’s only employee, and it has blossomed into the business you see today. I am forever thankful for the support of our clients, shareholders, and our operational staff. I look forward to watching you grow during your time at Cona Security” I was surprisingly good at being professional. A skill I had to learn quickly after starting this company when I was 17.
“Enough with the formalities! Let’s get to the tour, shall we?” Emily smiled politely.
We made our way through the office, showing the new hires the HR department where payroll and purchasing live, the staff room and the bathrooms. Then to the next floor for customer service, software and web development, the graphic design section and our second little staff room that was more of a recreational room. Every IT company needs to have some kind of room with ping pong tables and bean bag chairs for a relaxing energy. Then we moved on to the top floor with business intelligence, operations and security, as well as Emily’s office. My office is on this floor as well, but I didn’t want the newbies to be sniffing around in there, it’s my second home after all.
“This is our last stop, this is where business intelligence, operations and security work. They’re the brain of the company, researching our competitors and trends to keep us ahead of the pack, as well as making sure our systems are always up to date. I don’t think I need to tell you what security is in charge of, I’m sure you can figure that one out” Emily smiled as she rattled on, letting the kids walk into the room filled with desks, computers and employees. There were a couple of laughs in the group as response to her joke.
“If you’re working in any of these roles, you’ll see me quite often. I tend to communicate with them frequently” I mention. I look to my employees sitting at their desks, a couple of them turned their heads to listen in.
“Make sure you guys look after the newbies, okay? We’ve all been new before and know how nerve wrecking it can be” I project, directing my voice to my seasoned employees.
“Yes, mummy” the resident shit stirrer, Arun called out, followed by giggles from the new hires and seasoned employees. Is this motherfucker kidding me? Disrespecting me in front of everyone is unacceptable.
“Emily, can you please show the new hires where their training will be held tomorrow? I need to have a chat with one of our employees” I instruct quietly. Emily nods and gathers the newbies, escorting them out of the office space.
“Arun, can you see me in my office” I call out. The office goes silent, as Arun gets up and solemnly makes his way to the front. I silently walk out of the office, crossing the threshold from their shared space to my private office.
“I-I’m sorry” Arun blubbered.
“Save it” I hissed.
I opened the door to my office, letting Arun walk in.
“Take a seat” I instruct. He does as I say and sits opposite my desk in the middle of the room.
“So, Arun, did you get that out of your system?” I snarl, walking to my desk. He doesn’t reply, only looks down at his hands that were fidgeting in his lap.
“Did you enjoy embarrassing me in front of our new staff? I have a reputation to uphold” I scold.
“Sorry” Arun mutters.
“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. I’ve been too lenient with you in the past, and this is the final straw” I growl.
“Come on, don’t be like that. It was funny” Arun defended.
“I’m afraid I do not share your sense of humour” I scowl.
“You walk around the office with your tits out every day. You think we’re not going to notice?” he argued.
“Excuse me?” I bark.
“How am I supposed to focus on my work when you’re flaunting your goodies all the time?” Arun pouted.
“This is disgusting behaviour. How dare you say that to me, I am your boss” I growl.
“I’m sorry, I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking” he scoffs.
“Your apology is not good enough. In what world did you think that was a reasonable explanation for your behaviour? Arun, you need to pack up your things, I’m going to have to let you go” I explain.
“What? You can’t do that! That’s unfair termination!” Arun shouted.
“Terminating your employment because of sexual harassment is not unfair termination, Arun” I scoff.
“Whatever! This company is shit anyway!” Arun pouts like a temperamental teenager.
“If you keep digging yourself into this hole, you won’t receive your paid leave” I warn.
“You’re an ego maniac!” Arun shouts before storming out of my office.
#fluorescent vermin#fluorescent vermin preview#fluorescent vermin chapter 10#chapter 10#Jasper Connor
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Chapter One of "Whiskey & Cigarettes"
ps : I'm not good at english.
DEAL—
I grabbed a box of cigarettes that was on my desk, lighting it up as i look down on the city. damn fuckin' love this view.
exhaling my ciggies smokes; I was just on a break since i already spent three hours signing paperworks and also checking my people's business requests.
I was leaned on my desk as i face the window looking at the city lights, admiring it actually
'ring, ring, ring'
I heard my phone ring, i groan in annoyance. I was still having my best three minutes of break and yet these motherfuckers already needs me. damn i sometimes hate this.
I left it for few seconds, expecting it to be hung up, but it didn't so i guess this call is important.
I placed my cigarettes on my ashtray, as i pick up the phone on my right side beside my macbook
" speak." I commanded, waiting for the person's response,
" this is Valeria speaking. i have few words to discuss with you." It was my assistant, what could be more important than me finishing my cigarettes huh ?
" Where do i expect to see you? " I asked
"downtown, in a small café, sweet's coffee. "
she stated.
" hm'kay " I hung up as i looked down on my now finished and cigarettes in the ashtray. sigh. whatever.
I stood straight, and spun my office chair to face me so i could reach my suit jacket
putting it on.
I reached for my phone placing it inside my pocket, closing my laptop.
---------------
" What's this words you wanted to discuss with me, huh? " I asked.
" I know you were enjoying your cigarettes before i called but this is important." thank hell she knew yet she still called for me. ha. thanks.
" so ? "
" I found out who stole your packages while it's on delivery from Russia. " She whispered, i remained calm and waited for another response i don't want to know how my packages was stolen i want a name.
" Sir, here's your black coffee and green tea for the pretty one here." The waiter winked at Valeria, disgusting. really ? in front of me ? that son of a bitch.
I sipped my coffee " In that case, i should call my men for a meeting yeah? " I looked at her, expecting a "yes" as a response
" No. that's exactly the problem." She said,
I hummed, waiting for her explanation as i looked at her dead in the eye
" You see, here.." she placed a bunch of documents or whatever those papers on the table
" Look here, my partner was a photographer i hired her to stalk someone for me— for us. and then she sent me those photos." She said as she flipped open a folder with a lot of photos on it as i was told, i looked at her concentrated
" She caught the thieves, aren't they your men? huh, Ice? " she looked at me like I'm her son getting scolded at.
i grabbed the photos as i looked closely. these are my men indeed.
" fuckin' hell." I chuckled. fuckin' knew it.
" what the fuck, Ice ? what're you laughing about ?! these are our money getting stolen by your fucking MEN! " she yelled, ah how i hate when this happens. Have you ever been treated like a kid by your own assistant? No? well i have.
" I'm calling Monté. " I stated as i walked outside the café with a smile on my face.
After all, I never trusted Taijún to be my partner. But now that Valeria helped me confirm that Taijún is actually the traitor nothing could stop me from killing him.
"Que pasá, amigo ? " (What's up, friend?) Monté finally answered after three minutes of me dialing his number
" estás ocupado esta noche, amigo? " (Are you busy tonight, my friend?)
I asked, his surroundings sounds really busy but still. Monté is the only person that could get me lined up real good whenever I'm having problems with these kind of stuff (trafficking) since it's his main job.
" no por que preguntar" (No, why ask?)
"tengo un trabajo para ti, I'll meet you at nine." (I got a job for you,)
Monté is from spanish he had tons of connection through out the spain and U.S. border, although it may be called illegal but he's got something up his sleeve, he's friends with the narcos and undercover agents for the Government. that's why i get some pull.
I'm different from him, i don't want to be involved in the government but my Father is, I'm well known in the eyes of public. I'm doing this trafficking for pápá and also for me.
"encantado de conocerte de nuevo, HIÉL!!" (nice meeting you again, Hiél.) He smiled as he shook my hands, damn this place so messy.
" so watchu got for me, uh? " he added, with a curious tone, his english is still fuckin' terrible.
" Taijún, i want him dead and his head to be delivered to his family. " I said as i checked out few of pictures hanging up the walls, it's his family
" uh huh, ain't that a bit traumatizing for his family? " he asked as he walked over to his chair, sat down and looked up at me.
" he kept stealing shit from me and its affecting the God Father, I'll offer you three fucking million U.S. dollars, i want his head and my products. " I stated in a serious tone, why did i offer such money to get someone killed ? let's just say... you being a four years old and getting your favourite toy taken away from you, but this isn't just a "toy" to me. This is a serious matter, if i lose these special products? not only my bloodline will drown in hell.
" five." he debated.
" four point five. " yeah, not goin' to drop that much money for a fool.
" fuck it, deal." he said, as i shook his hand with a small grin on my face.
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Criminality Season 1 Episode 2: Dongle
RATED TV-MA
“Motherfucker,” grumbled the detective, pulling out his pistol and putting it to my face. “I finally caught you, you sneaky son of a bitch.”
“You fucked up so many bastards on the street yourself, cop.” I reached into my pocket, but my gun wasn’t there, and his was. I was standing in the alley, and he was too. We were both standing under a bright yellow streetlight, watching the cars go by.
“Forgot your gun, dipshit?”
“No officer, but I’m so good in bed your girlfriend forgot your gun.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“You don’t make anything other than your girlfriend disturbed.” I fumbled that delivery—I was supposed to say, “disappointed,” not “disturbed.” It still sounded okay, so I ran with it and didn’t run away. I kept digging through my pocket.
“Motherfucker, do you want to fight me?” The detective put his gun to my face and ran me into the wall of the apartment building. I’m not just a detective, I’m a cop too, you slippery bastard. I could have you put away.” He muffled my mouth, cursed into the radio, and let me go.
“I’m not trying to pick a fight, cop. You’re just being a fucker. I told you that I’m not running a drug operation, so let me go bitch.”
“Do you wanna fucking die tonight, bitch?” The cop pushed me to the floor, put his gun in my mouth, picked me back up, and pulled me to his car. “Do you wanna fucking die? Do you wanna fucking die?
“Do you? I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Did the man hired to fuck people up tell you to finish his job? Jollop or whatever that asshat’s name is?” The gun I was looking for fell out of my right pocket. “Shit… anyway, is that what’s going on now?
“Are you working for him now? Did he pay the hit?”
“It was the shithead in the orange cape.” The detective cuffed me, picked me up off the ground, threw me into the police car parked on the side of the road, slammed the door shut and sat in the driver’s seat. “The orange fucker put a hit on you because you fucked up one of his targets real bad.”
“This isn’t a real arrest then?” I hit my head on the glass window between the front and back seats in the police car. It didn’t do anything but annoy the detective-cop, who turned around and looked at me strangely. “If you’re being paid off by that asshole… name a price and I’ll match it.”
The cop pulled into a darker alley, tucked beneath the police station and an apartment. He got out of the police car, dragged me into the alleyway, pushed me against the dumpster bin, pulled out his gun and put it against my head. This time, I felt the barrel deeper inside me—against the back of my throat, and I could taste the gunpowder—it was freshly used. “You want to try me motherfucker?
“Taste my gun, shitbag. Do it. Taste my gun, fuckface. Try it, motherfucker.”
“Sure thing, officer. Just after I speak to my lawyer, who I rarely speak to,” I said, exuding a hint of sarcasm. “Oh wait, my lawyer’s your girlfriend. She already has her mouth full with me to talk.”
“You’re a fucker.”
“No, you’re a fucker.”
“You’re a fucker.”
“No, fuck you.”
“Fuckface.”
“Dipshit.”
“You’re coming with me into the station.” We went back and forth with the insults until he tossed me into a cell, locked the cell up, and sat down and chowed down on a chicken and provolone sandwich—I could tell it was chicken and provolone by how it smelled—and he watched me intently.
“What?” I asked, looking him in the eyes.
The inmate on the top bunk said, “What’s with you?”
“I didn’t say anything to you, fucker.”
“Whatever.” The inmate climbed down the bunk bed, scooted closer to me, putting his hands in his pockets—I didn’t know prison jumpsuits had pockets, and I wasn’t wearing a jumpsuit—and leaned in until we were shoulder to shoulder. “My name’s Dongle Hoof.”
I held my laugh back. His name was funny to me, but I couldn’t laugh. I knew what these police stations were like, because I’ve been to a police station, and the fresh cellmates were rougher than the hardened inmates in actual prisons. I scooted away from Mr. Hoof, but he only scooted closer to me. “You’re a moron for thinking I’ll help you.”
“I’m not here to look for charity, dumbass. I’m here to get high. Do you have the jelly beans?”
“What jelly beans?” I got off the cell’s bottom bunk and looked at him. He was about seven feet tall, and he had long hair and a scrawny beard. “What do you think I am, dipshit? A candy machine?”
Dongle growled at me, then his growl became a friendly smile, as if we were well-acquainted colleagues. He climbed back onto the top bunk, looked down at me, then looked at the detective that brought me in. “The detective brought us both to the same point for a reason, dickhead. He also wants drugs, and he also doesn’t like the dog-fucker wearing an orange cape.”
Dongle whistled, and like a dog chasing a bone, the detective ran to Dongle’s aid. The detective and Dongle exchanged words, before the detective left the room and returned with a beef wrap. The detective handed Dongle the wrap through the bars. While Dongle opened the wrap, the detective said to me, “I’ll let you go if you promise not to attack me—okay asshole?”
“Sure, buddy. Right after you fuck right off, because I couldn’t give a shit about the orange guy anymore. He doesn’t give a shit about me either, okay?” paced around my cell, returned to my bunk, sank into the cushions, and took a deep breath.
The detective and Dongle looked at me curiously. I looked back at them, “I’ll tell you the names and addresses of the fuckers helping me reach ecstasy,” I said, taking off my wrinkly Mariners shirt and giving it to the detective. “I’ll stay in this cell for-fucking-life if that’s what the judge wants, but leave me out of whatever this is.”
“Fuck you.” The detective dropped his sandwich on the table, marched over to my cell, reached for the keys to my cell in his vest, unlocked my cell, marched over to me, grabbed me by my neck, pushed me against the wall of the prison cell in front of the bewildered Dongle, and held me for a whole minute. His breaths—sudden bursts of wind leaving his tight-lipped mouth—went down my chest. “You’re a real fucker… I like it.”
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The Match - Part 8
Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2.7k
Summary: You get a preview of what it’s like to be working with Mackenzie.
Warnings: I apologize as there is no smut in here lmfao but there is a stubborn Bucky lols
A/N: The jitters just never go away whenever I post a new part for this ajkcnjasncakjcnakj I find this part boring tbh but uhh things will start picking up again in the next part I promise
The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST
Bucky decided to push through with his partnership with Wilson Enterprises. It was a big one, so it definitely required the entire team's effort and perseverance. Apparently, this is the company's biggest, most major project yet so this was going to look really good in your resume. It would also provide you with more credibility to further excel in your career.
Except that Bucky actually hired a marketing consultant to take over the entire project as his revenge.
"Any questions? About the project or about Kenzie?" Bucky asked, standing in front of the conference room, next to Mackenzie.
You confidently raised your hand when no one else did. Bucky tilted his head, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He knew you were affected, of fucking course you were!
"Yes?" he called out.
You stood up and sighed softly, "I mean this in the most respectful way, Mister Barnes." you said, emphasizing his name. "But as the head of marketing, what exactly is my role here? Given that Mackenzie was hired to spearhead the marketing aspect of this project." you said, giving Mackenzie a passive aggressive smile.
"I don't want to overstep on some boundaries here, that's why I'm asking. I just want clarity, that's all." you said.
Bucky was about to respond when Mackenzie stopped him, grabbing his arm and squeezing it before taking over the floor. You narrowed your eyes at how her slender fingers were wrapped around Bucky's arm.
"Honey..." Mackenzie started. "There's nothing to worry about, this is a collaborative work between you and I. So think of yourself as my assistant, someone to help me out with the project." she responded.
Bitch.
"I'm not an assistant, Mackenzie." you said, smiling at her.
Mackenzie laughed, "I'm sorry, my bad. I shouldn't have used that term. Oops." she said. "Although, I believe I have more experience in this area so maybe consider me a mentor?" she suggested.
Bitch!
Bucky cleared his throat, "If you have certain ideas, you can discuss it with her. She is a consultant after all. Given her impressive experience in the field, I'm sure you'll learn a thing or two from her."
The meeting was wrapped up by noon and you simply couldn't wait to get yourself out of the conference room. You didn't feel like talking to Bucky anymore in all honesty, not after what he was doing. You knew this was just to spite you, get you to cave in first and give in to him.
All the more that you wouldn't, especially not when he actually used your job against you.
Everyone started rushing out of the conference room, ready to head out for lunch. As soon as you reached the doorway, you overheard the short conversation between Bucky and Mackenzie.
"Hey Bucky, we still up for lunch?"
-
The bathroom was empty when you stepped inside and thank god for that because you couldn't hold back your emotions any further. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes, not because you were hurt. Fuck no, you were angry and frustrated. So fucking angry at yourself for getting into this mess, at Bucky for being such an entitled prick, at the entire world for plotting against you.
You groaned in irritation as you wiped away your tears, sniffing as you looked at yourself in the mirror.
You worked your ass off for this job, for your position. You risked your dignity when you let Bucky fuck you. You weren't going to let someone take that away from you.
You quickly fixed yourself when the door opened, followed by the loud clacking of someone's heels.
"Omg, are you crying?" Beverly gasped, rushing over to you.
You snickered, "No." you lied, "My eyes are itchy." you huffed out before noticing that Beverly was holding a sandwich in her hand.
"Why did you bring your sandwich here?" you curiously asked.
Beverly shrugged, "The pantry's full and the other girls don't exactly seem to like me...so..."
You shook your head and sighed, "Come with me, let's have lunch out. I need to get out of this fucking place anyway."
"Yay, omg! I knew you were nice! You're like, the only girl who actually talked to me nicely." Beverly said, tagging behind you as you exited the bathroom.
"Oh, there you are!" Mark called out. "I was looking for you. Wanna grab lunch? Oh...who's this?" he asked, noticing the blonde girl trailing behind you.
"I'm Beverly! I'm Sir James' new secretary." she introduced excitedly.
You sighed, "Don't ask me why." you said when Mark turned to you with a confused look, still not sure what happened to Bucky's previous secretary.
"So, lunch out? With Bev?" you asked.
-
You were completely zoning out during lunch despite the ongoing conversation between Mark and Bev, something about yoga? You honestly couldn't care less, not when you were feeling so conflicted about your current situation.
Would Bucky actually go that far just to get you back? Or does he actually hate you for saying no to him and is basically using his authority to make your life a living hell?
"So I heard about the new girl." Mark said, that snapped you out of your trance.
"Huh?" you asked.
"I find it weird for Mister Barnes to hire someone when you're here." Mark pointed out. "I mean, are you okay with that or..."
You snorted, "Fuck no. Look, I'm not gonna be the bigger person here. I was offended as fuck." you admitted.
"Yeah, it's super weird because she was hired through Tinder or something. Is that even legal?" Beverly pointed out as she scrolled through her phone.
You and Mark turned to her abruptly, "Tinder? Wait, what?" you asked.
Beverly chuckled, "I heard them talking this morning and Kenzie was like, 'It's so funny that we matched on Tinder and ended up doing business there you know' and I'm like omg Sir James has Tinder and I have one too but I never saw him there, bummer."
"Motherfucker." you hissed out.
Mark made a face, "Are you okay?" he carefully asked. "You've been really tensed since last week."
Apparently, Bucky never deleted his Tinder and have been swiping right on women. And that's how he met Mackenzie who just happened to be a marketing consultant. Now you were just furious, was he fucking her too? Has he been fucking other women this entire time?
"Hey, Bev..." you said, a plan hatching inside your mind. "Can I ask you a favor?" you asked nicely.
Beverly nodded, "Um duh, you're basically my office BFF now."
"If you ever hear Mister Barnes and Mackenzie talk about hmm, I don't know...something interesting. Maybe about the project...me 'cause you know, I'm the head of marketing and Mackenzie’s in the same field...let me know, will ya?" you asked.
Mark chuckled nervously, "I don't know what's going on but isn't that an invasion of privacy?"
"She's not going to eavesdrop, Mark. She'll just...listen closely." you explained.
"Bev might get in trouble if Mister Barnes finds out." Mark warned.
You waved a hand, "She'll be fine, Mark. She's his secretary, she has to know everything. Besides, I'm not going to let her get in trouble, if she does then I'll take care of it."
Beverly squealed in delight, "Omg, you are not my office BFF. You're like my office mom! You and Mark are literally my office parents." she said, lifting her phone up in the air.
"Selfie! This one goes to the 'gram." she said, taking a quick photo of the three of you.
She then proceeded to edit the photo while you and Mark continued eating lunch.
"Bev, you should really put your phone away and eat first. We have less than half an hour left for lunch break." Mark called out.
Beverly groaned and rolled her eyes, "Way to get into the role, Mark. You're such a dad."
You snorted, "Yeah. Loosen up, daddy." you teased.
"Playing family after just one date, huh."
Bucky's presence in the same restaurant should've really intimidated you, most especially that he just witnessed you tease Mark like that. But you were too mad at him to even care, what was the point even? He didn't believe you even when you told him the truth that Mark was just a friend.
Why even try now?
"Hi Sir James." Beverly greeted happily.
"Mister Barnes." Mark acknowledged.
Bucky ignored them and kept his eyes on you. You didn't falter under his gaze and simply stared back at him with blank eyes. It's as if a staring competition took place when the both of you merely looked at each other, neither of you looking away nor attempting to do so.
"How was that date last Friday, Jim?" Bucky asked, his eyes still trained on yours.
Mark made a funny face at the name that Bucky called him but shrugged anyway. Before he could even respond, you decided to answer on his behalf. If Bucky wanted to spite you, you'd give him a taste of his own medicine.
"It was actually great. We might go on another one this Friday." you said.
"We are?" Mark asked in a whisper.
Bucky's hand landed on Mark's shoulder, "Don't count on it, Andrew. She's going to be doing a lot of work on Friday due to the project." he said through gritted teeth.
You shrugged, "Oh, but I thought Mackenzie's doing all my work?"
"I'm ready to head back, Buck."
Speak of the devil herself. Mackenzie weaved through the tables and approached Bucky, her face brightening up when she saw you, Mark and Beverly.
"Oh, hey you." she greeted you. "Look, I think we may have started off on the wrong foot earlier. I'm not here to take your job, just here to spice things up a bit. Improve your ideas, give Bucky some assistance." she chuckled, holding onto Bucky's arm yet again.
You fought back the urge to grab your glass of water and throw it at her face. As the saying goes, kill them with kindness. So you merely shrugged and extended an arm for a handshake.
"Of course. I would love to improve your ideas as well, you know. Just a healthy discourse between two marketing professionals. We good?" you said.
Mackenzie forced out a chuckle and reached for your hand, "We’re good. I look forward to working with you." she said before turning back to Bucky who was still gazing at you.
"Let's go?" she asked sweetly.
Bucky smirked at you before wrapping an arm around Mackenzie's waist, guiding her out of the restaurant the same way he did to you. You were too focused on Bucky's body language around Mackenzie that you failed to notice that Mark was watching you closely, your expressions and how you reacted towards Bucky.
"I think I know what's happening."
-
"You what?!"
"Shhh!" you hushed Mark and peeked out of the empty pantry to make sure the coast was clear.
Mark noticed the tension between you and Bucky and he came to a conclusion that the both of you dated at one point. He wasn't really wrong but he wasn't right either. So you decided to tell him everything, from the moment you matched with Bucky on Tinder until your last conversation with him last Saturday.
"I honestly thought you were dating, I didn't know there was sex involved. No wonder he had been calling me weird names." he said incredulously. "Was that you and Mister Barnes that Janet reported to the HR?" he asked, stifling his laughter.
You groaned, "Yes. Ugh, gave me a panic attack when I found out about that incident report." you said.
"Hey..." Mark called out. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me this. Your secret is safe with me." he reassured.
You nodded, "I think it was about time that I told someone about us anyway. This whole situation is driving me crazy and I don't know what to do next. And I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess, I shouldn't have said that we were going out again. I don't want you or your job getting compromised because of our petty fight." you exhaled.
You had to admit, you felt so much better now after confiding with Mark. It somewhat alleviated the weight on your shoulders, knowing that there was someone aware of what you were going through. Who would've thought that this person would end up being Mark? You did have friends outside of work of course, but you felt like they all wouldn't really understand the situation.
Half would hate you for rejecting Bucky and the other half would hate you for even swiping right on him.
"Do you mind an unsolicited advice?" Mark asked.
"Not at all." you said.
"Ignore him. Don't let him or Mackenzie get to you. Do what you do best, you're great at your job and you'll be fine. That might get him to realize that you're not a prize to be won. And if he still doesn't see that, then that's his loss. You're more than just that hot marketing girl at work." Mark said.
You laughed at his last statement, "Hot marketing girl at work?" you asked, shaking your head.
"It's true. So if in any case you decide to ditch the CEO and move on, you know where to find me." he joked, throwing a wink your way.
-
You wanted to finish all your reports so you could focus on the huge project so you decided to work until around nine in the evening. The floor was already empty by the time you were done. Bucky seemed to be working too, given that he was still replying to e-mails at this hour. Wanting to get all the reports over with, you decided to submit it to him before going home.
During the elevator ride to Bucky’s floor, you couldn’t help but wonder whether he was alone in the office. Would Mackenzie be there with him? Even at this hour? Your grip on the folder tightened at the thought of catching them in the act.
But did you have any right to feel this way though?
Brushing off the thoughts, you exhaled loudly and prepared yourself for whatever it was you were to witness. Upon reaching the door to Bucky’s office, you slightly turned your head to listen to anything. It was quiet. No hushed whispers nor strained grunts-- they weren’t fucking, thank goodness for that.
You decided not to knock and just walk inside like you used to, reminding yourself of Mark’s advice.
Don’t let Bucky get to you.
When you saw Bucky hunched over his desk, typing away on his e-mails instead of bending a certain brunette somewhere in his office, you had to admit that you were relieved. He looked up and his eyes looked dead tired, you almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
“You should really learn how to knock.” Bucky called out, slamming his laptop shut.
“Look, Bucky. I was just rushing to submit these reports so I can go home.” you explained and placed the folder on top of his desk.
Bucky frowned, “I said to call me Mister Barnes.”
You huffed out, “I honestly don’t care, Bucky. I’m not playing your damn games anymore.” you said and turned around.
A hand on your arm pulled you back, harshly turning you around to face Bucky. He was fuming, as usual. At this point, you were no longer fazed.
“You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?” he asked.
You clenched your jaw and pulled your arm back, “I’m not doing anything. You bring in Beverly or Mackenzie or whoever it is that you have up your sleeve. I don’t fucking care. I just want to focus on work.” you said and stepped away.
“And you should too, Bucky.” you added.
“I don’t believe you.” he said.
You sighed, your shoulders dropping from exhaustion at this whole shenanigan. “I’m done, Bucky.”
And with that you turned around to exit his office, leaving Bucky unsure whether you truly meant what you said. A victorious smirk graced your lips as you walked back to the elevator.
You were far from done.
-
The Match Special Tags:
@marvelslag @weird-mumbling @propertyofpoeandbucky @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @mostly-marvel-musings @squishybabies @megzdoodle @suchababie @annathesillyfriend @xhollycowx @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @5-seconds-of-mendes @gogolucky13 @countonthesun @iloveshawnieboi @learisa @borikenlove @scarlet-natasha89
Everything Bucky Tag List:
@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky
#bbb writes#the match#bucky barnes#bucky#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes smut#bucky smut#fem!reader#sebastian stan
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OUT OF PLACE 6
Synopsis; Confession
CW: MNDI...Age gap, Mental Illness,Foul Language,CRACK,ANGST
Kanji Mochizuki*Takeomi Akashi*South Terano
Prev : Next
After the mall incident, going back to Bonten was hectic. Everybody bombarded you with questions.
"Did they hurt you?" Ran panics checking your arms for bruises.
"Are they dead?" Takeomi adds hoping they are.
"Please don't go with them again you scared us to death." Kakucho pleads distressed on his face plastered.
All you did was smile at them and keep South, Inui and Draken your little secret.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"But for real though, Ran and Haru passed in front of us." All of you were in the lunch room when you decide to tell them the moment they almost caught you. They all looked at you except Koko who you forced to keep looking straight because you're braiding his hair.
"Starbucks?"
"Yeah."
"I knew it! I heard her voice you stupid pink head!" Ran was about to throw his laptop to Sanzu but you point at him stopping his actions.
"Well did you have fun with them?" Takeomi asked anxiously trying not to look sus.
Everyone went quiet waiting for your answer. If you say "yes." Then it's good because you're happy but it's "bad" because it means you enjoy spending time with the "brothers" you call. And they might just lose the only precious thing in their lives.
Mikey's eyes are glued to you. He remained stoic but he was beyond scared. Mentally he’s on fire. He don't know how he'll react if you choose your "brothers" over them.
Surely, he can't kill them because you'll hate him. But maybe... He could hire someone?
"We had fun. And oh. You won't believe what I'm about to say next." That wasn't a good enough answer for them. It wasn't enough to determined whether you like them better than those "brothers".
"Y'all went inside the Game Center right? I was literally in front of Takeomi but for an unknown reason this man just decide to turn away."
"WHAT?!" They all said in sync.
"He was like "I can't see." Our eyes literally met." Mochi rolled his eyes and Mikey sighed loudly.
"We all should gift him senior citizen glasses for Christmas."
"That's not funny." He says crossing his arms.
"Yeah it is." And after that, he was soaked in a rain of insult about him being an "Old blind motherfucker.".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few weeks has passed and you were casually finishing a report in your office when Mochi knocked.
"Yeah?" You asked without looking up.
"You ate yet?" He says stepping inside the dark room with your laptop screen being the only source of light.
Mochi has been hiding his feelings but it reached to the point where he couldn't do it anymore.
He was ready for you. For your sweetness and madness. He'll take it all.
He was never the impaulsive one in the group and surely he was never selfish. He always thought of everyone. He always though of Bonten before himself. But with you?
For the first time he'll be selfish.
"Not yet, but don't worry. Run along." You wink at him before returning your eyes to the monitor.
"Can I talk to you about something?" He sheeply asked. You didn't think much of it and simply nodded in response.
"I don't think I can do it."
"Do what?"
"What you've asked."
"What? Run? Don't tell me you got old man leg's now like Ta-"
"No, I can run."
"Then what can't you do Mochi? I don't know you at all except for the fact that you're too fucking hugable, you drink black coffee which I disagree. You should drink coffee with at least a cube of sugar to sweeten you up. Um.... You like drinking Hibiki which is fucking annoying because I thought I was the only classy drinker in this goddamn place." He laughs before walking closer to you.
He leaned on the glass wall setting his eyes on the brightly lighted buildings of Tokyo.
He was surprised that even though you claim that you don't know him at all you seem to know alot.
You turn your chair to face him and a soft smile appeared on your face. He's not really evil. If he was reborn maybe he'll be a good business man or something sport's related.
"Can you tell me more?"
"Well, you're a drinker more than a smoker. You don't sing or dance which I think you should. Life is more fun when you dance and sing." That was what South told you and you repeated it to him.
Deja vu
"What else? I gotta know so I could change." You squint your eyes and chuckled.
"Why? I like you just the way you are." He gulped and a knot on his stomach appeared.
"I only told you that so you could be a little bit more happier. I like seeing you smile. You have a beautiful smile." You wink at him playfully liking how red his face is.
What you told him. A secret you've always kept but somehow decide to spat out for no reason at all.
"So, we were side tracked. What can't you do again?" He paused for a long time.
He paused for so long it began to make you worry. Kanji. Kanji. Kanji. If you were normal maybe you'll fall for him. But he doesn't deserve every madness you have within you. You'll surely make him suffer.
"Oi. Are you fine- Wait. Are you gonna fucking die Mochi?"
"I'm in love with you and I can't let you go. I fucking love you and I hate it." He tells you without looking at you. He sounded so defeated and it broke your heart.
"It's fucking pathetic, a criminal. Falling in love. You're all I could think about and you're all I want. And it fucking sucks because I know that you don't love me."
....
"You're right. I don't. So why keep on insisting? I'm not worth it Kanji. I'm really not." You stood up from your chair and walked towards him. He looks at you and all he could see is the woman he wants.
The woman he loves.
"You made it so fucking difficult not to fall in love with you." He remembers everything you've done for him.
"Hey- Kanji- What the hell?" You panicked and rushed to his side.
He came back from a meeting that didn't end well and was badly injured. There were no nurses available since many men had already took them. He made them tend his men first before he agrees to be tended. You thought it was manly and was moved and kind enough that day that you took it upon yourself to tend to him.
He never thought of you in any way. You didn't come up to his mind even though you shoved Ran's head on the toilet for touching your neck or even though you were undenianly gorgeous. You were merely a livestock to him ready to be ordered to kill their enemies until you carefully nursed him.
Cleaning his wounds, wrapping him up. Soft touches and delicate care he has never experienced before. But the moment he fell for you? He fell for you when he saw you sleeping beside him waiting for him to wakeup after passing out from blood lost.
You looked so beautiful and he saw that under your murderous self there's a kind girl ready to love someone.
And he wanted to be that person more than anything in the world.
Sleeping with you was great. Holding you after sex was great. But... not being able to keep you forever within his arms hurts more than all of the punches, gun shots, stabs he has received throughout his life.
"I'll make you suffer, I ruin everthing Mochi. Everything. The only way I can keep you happy-"
"I don't wanna be happy if it's not with you."
"Mochi, you need to leave." You turned around but he wasn't having it. He grabbed your hand and kneeled.
He kneeled. It's his last resort.
"Fuckin' stand up." You try to pull him up but he kept his head low and kept on kneeling.
"I can't do it. I love you so much. Please. I don't care. I don't fucking care if you love someone else just be with me. Smile at me and hold me even if it's just for a moment." He pleaded. His voice was low and powerless but he was determined to be yours.
"Kanji...." Your heart started to ached and your horrible self wanted to protect you from softening up but today she lost and wasn't able to come out.
You kneeled with him and held his face up making him look into your eyes. His heart was filled with hope when he noticed that a worry was in your eyes. Maybe it was for him maybe it's not but he'll take any chances.
"Thank you for loving me. I've never been loved like this before because I ruin everything." You tell him with a weak smile on your face your eyes were glossy as tears started to slowly fill them.
"I'll fix everything and I promise to never leave you no matter what you do to me."
"Kanji. I."
You took a deep breath before straigtening your body up. Your hands went to his shoulder and you leaned in to kiss him.
He kissed back but the kiss ended just as fast as it started.
"I can't love you."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
^Thank you for reading. Reblogs and replies are greatly appreciated.^
Taglist
@rinrinfoxy @rizakari @sukunas-left-nut-sack @tenkomybeloved
#tokyo rev x y/n#tokyo revengers#tokyo manji gang#tokyo rev fluff#tokyo rev x you#tokyorev headcanons#tokyorev smut#ran headcanons#tokyo revengers sanzu#tokyorev kokonoi#tokyorev#tokyorev x reader#ran scenarios#haitani ran imagines#kakucho#kanji mochizuki#Mikey#mikey brainrot#mikey bonten#mikey x reader#mikey headcanon#mikey x takemichi#mikey x you#mikey imagines#toman#tmnt mikey#manjiro sano#tokrev mikey#baji keisuke#taiju
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I love all those sentence prompts you just posted.😂 But I feel like the most appropriate one is probably:
“So why did I have to punch that guy?”
Thank you Arrow!! 💗
Ridiculous Sentence Prompts: "So why did I have to punch that guy?"
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There were only a few things left in the world that made Mickey really, really angry.
The first was their property manager, Melanie, and her stupid-ass dog with its stupid, stupid diaper.
The second was the fact that a single can of beer cost four times more on the West Side than it did back in their old neighborhood. What special brand of bullshit were these crunchy granola hippies trying to churn out at the Wine, Etc. store, anyway?
The third thing, and probably the only one that would stick around after he adjusted to his new life above the poverty line, was any time that anyone disrespected, hurt, or even mildly annoyed his husband.
Every time they dealt with an irritating client or an overzealous new employee, Mickey would clench his teeth and fight the urge to knock them on their ass. One hit was all it would take, he knew that for certain. He'd taken down Ian's exes, family members, hell, even Ian himself on a few occasions, with a single punch to the throat.
Now, he was an adult, a business owner, a husband and partner that needed to play by society's rules if they were ever going to crawl out of the gutter completely.
The very idea made Mickey's teeth ache.
He bit his bottom lip while they sat side-by-side in their booth at the Alibi, waiting for some schmuck to meet them for an interview.
"We need to start interviewing the guys we hire, Mickey," Ian had said one night while cooking dinner. He chopped the carrots and celery on the wooden cutting board while Mickey sat slumped on the couch, nursing a beer and watching a TikTok Mandy had sent him earlier that day.
He looked up at his husband as he watched an orange and white cat chow down on kibble after his automatic feeder malfunctioned.
Mandy 🌻 (6:09pm): plz tell ian this is him in cat form
Mickey snorted at his phone, barely registering Ian's comment.
"Mick?" Ian tried again, and Mickey looked up from his phone.
"Hmm?" he replied through a mouthful of beer.
"I said we need to start interviewing the guys we hire," Ian said again, using the knife to scrape the carrots and celery off of the cutting board and into the giant pot he had boiling on the stove. Mickey wasn't sure what he was making, but it smelled amazing.
"What for? Those resumé things ain't good enough for you?" Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side as he tried to hide a smirk.
Ian rolled his eyes and used the comically oversized wooden spoon to stir his soup.
"No, Mick. So we don't have another Connor situation."
Mickey snorted. Connor was a dipshit they'd hired back in April to help with pickups, a dipshit that had cost the company almost $2,500 after he "forgot" to make the deposit with Ian and Mickey at the end of his scheduled route.
"I mean, his name's Connor. Kinda feel like you should've known what you were walkin' in to with that one."
"I'm serious," Ian said. "Interviews. We gotta do 'em." He stirred the soup vigorously, the spoon clanking against the side of the pot with every twist.
Mickey sighed deeply and rolled his eyes.
"Fine, we'll interview some new guys. But we're not doing it at a Starbucks or some shit. I'm not ready to go full West Side." He scrunched up his nose and made a face, to which Ian just chuckled.
"Glad you're on board," he teased, getting back to work on his soup, which had started to bubble.
--
Kev and Vee had moved to Louisville a month before, transferring ownership of the bar to Carl and Officer Tipping, who promised to keep everything just as it was. It gave Mickey a sense of calm knowing that even as the rest of his old neighborhood was slipping away, his adolescent stomping grounds now littered with coffee shops and yoga studios, some things remained the same.
He ran his fingers along the familiar crack in the table, a sharp sensation prodding the pads of his fingertips and helping him forget, even temporarily, what they were there to do.
Ian smacked the back of Mickey's hand gently.
"Stop it," he said, referring to the way Mickey was two seconds away from giving himself a splinter.
Mickey huffed and rolled his eyes.
"What's this guy's name again?"
Ian looked at his phone where he had an email pulled up. He glanced over the message then scrolled to the bottom.
"Derek," he said plainly.
"Derek," Mickey mocked, and Ian whacked him in the chest with the back of his hand.
"Knock it off," he said, and Mickey rolled his eyes again.
"Whatever. He's late anyway, let's just bail and go get some pizza."
"He's not late, Mickey. It's only..." he looked at his watch. "3:58. He's got three minutes until he's late."
Just then, as if summoned by Ian's voice, a tall, lanky, blond man walked through the front door of the bar and made his way towards the back corner booth where Ian and Mickey sat.
"You guys Ian and Mackie?"
Ian snorted as he tried to hide his laughter. Mickey rolled his eyes a third time, this time so hard that it was honestly impressive he didn't snap his optic nerves in the process.
"Mickey," Ian corrected politely. He nudged his husband with his elbow and the two of them climbed out of the booth to meet with their interviewee.
Ian shook his hand firmly.
"I'm Ian, and this is my husband Mickey." He smiled and turned to Mickey, who was standing with his hands in his pockets and giving Derek, all six feet two inches of him, an intense once-over. Elbowing his husband for a second time, Mickey relented, pulling his hands from his pockets and reaching out to shake Derek's hand. His giant palm was cold and clammy but also somehow uncomfortably hot. Mickey grimaced.
"Hey," he said gruffly. "Mickey."
"Derek," the other man said as they shook hands. "So you two are married?"
Ian nodded.
"Little over a year now, yeah."
Derek nodded.
"Cool, cool, cool," he said, nodding and looking around. "So this place is...interesting."
The judgmental and condescending way Derek said "interesting" wasn't new or unusual to either of them, but tall lanky blond bitches with North Side energy and a terrible fade saying "interesting" like they wanted to say "disgusting" made Mickey's blood boil.
He clenched his fist without even realizing what he was doing. Ian noticed immediately when Mickey's shoulders tensed up, stiffening in a way that reminded Ian of a startled cat, and he turned to climb back in the booth. He squeezed Mickey's arm once, twice, and dragged him down into the booth with him.
"It was a family friend's place," Ian said, nonchalant, eager to move the conversation away from the Alibi and towards their business. "So, Derek, on your resume, I see that you worked--"
Derek cut Ian off mid-sentence.
"Have they ever thought about turning this place into some sort of art installation or something? Just with the open floor plan and the exposed pipes, it's very pseudo-industrial-chic."
If they hadn't already assumed before by his distinct vocal fry and the smell of coconut hair gel, Derek's use of the term "pseudo-industrial-chic" solidified what the other two already knew: there were three gay motherfuckers in this booth.
Ian stuttered for a second, surprised by Derek's interjection and resistance to changing the subject.
"Don't think so, no." He grabbed his phone and opened up the Gmail app again. "So, anyway, your resume says you worked at--"
"You know what would be really cool in here? A movement class. I went to one in LA once that was hosted by Gwyneth Paltrow and it was liberating."
Mickey snorted and Ian elbowed him in the ribs.
"I bet it was," Ian said, unamused at Derek's refusal to talk about his work history. "So you worked at--"
"Have you guys ever been to LA? Oh my god, it's the best. So chic. I mean, I'm from Evanston originally, so basically anything is chic in comparison. I mean, not here, obviously, but you know. Other places."
Ian sighed.
"Totally," he said. "So, your work history, it says--"
"Hey, do you guys know what the best dispensary is around here? Preferably something upscale, with those iPads you can order on. I need a few new carts--"
"Dude," Mickey cut in. "Can you shut the fuck up for five seconds?"
Derek looked surprised, and Mickey could hear Ian's sharp, apprehensive inhale.
"Excuse me?" Derek said, holding his hand to his chest.
"He's been trying to ask you the same question since we sat down, and you won't shut the fuck up about chic cities and weed, so if you could just answer our questions, that would be great." He looked over at Ian, whose eyes were wide and hesitant, unsure about how things were about to unfold.
"You're very rude," Derek said to Mickey, giving him a scowl.
Mickey snorted.
"Yeah, tell me something I don't know."
Derek's eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkled up, agitated.
"You should be nicer to the people you want to hire." He crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child.
Mickey laughed out loud.
"Dude, who says we wanna hire you? I'm pretty sure if you worked for us, I'd blow my brains out in the first two minutes."
Ian tried and failed miserably to conceal his laughter, covering his mouth with his hand and looking down at the table. Mickey leaned over towards his husband.
"I kinda wanna punch this guy in the mouth," he mumbled, and Ian side-eyed him from where he sat beside him.
"Please don't," he replied in a whisper before composing himself and turning back to Derek.
"Look, Derek, you seem like a nice guy, but I don't think this is gonna work out." He held out his hand to signal that the interview was over, but Derek didn't return his handshake. Instead, he pouted like a toddler that had just been scolded for bad behavior.
"Your husband's a dick," Derek said to Ian, and Mickey could literally feel Ian's body stiffen next to him.
"Hey," Mickey said, putting his hand on Ian's knee. "Forget it. Let's go get pizza."
"No," Ian said sternly, turning back to Derek. "Listen, dude, you're also kind of a dick, so why don't we just call this a wash and you can go track down your carts or whatever."
Mickey bit his lip, fighting a smile. He secretly loved when Ian got defensive, as long as it wasn't directed towards him.
"You're both dicks!" Derek said, slamming his hands down on the table. He slid out of the booth and stood up, and Mickey and Ian did the same. The three men stood there, Derek facing the husbands with a pissed-off expression.
"You should go," Ian said, pointing at the door.
Derek snorted.
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. When the ad said South Side, I knew there was a good chance the owners were a couple of trashy, ghetto assholes. But him?" He pointed at Mickey. "He's a world-class dick."
Before Derek could say anything else, he was cut off by a fist to the jaw and dropped to the floor, unconscious.
The ambient chatter and loud clacking of billiard balls came to a halt as the regulars that sat scattered around the Alibi turned in unison to see what had happened. Once they identified the source of the loud "thud" as one of the Gallagher-Milkovich boys knocking out some blond giant, they immediately turned back to their various activities.
Just another day on the South Side.
Ian cupped his right fist in his left hand and turned to Mickey, bewildered.
"I just punched that guy, Mick," he said, genuinely surprised. "I knocked him out. Shit."
Mickey shrugged.
"He kinda deserved it."
Ian looked at Mickey with a really? sort of expression and shook his head back and forth.
"Still," he said, turning to look at Derek, sprawled out unconscious on the floor like a rag doll.
"C'mon man, it's fine. He'll come to, and when he does, we'll be long gone." He grabbed Ian's upper arm and gave him a tug, but Ian just sat back down in the booth.
"Why did I do that?" he asked, but Mickey knew he was talking only to himself. He sat down beside his husband, stepping over Derek's long ass leg on his way back to the booth.
"I mean, you kinda had to."
Ian looked over at Mickey, eyebrows raised. He stared at his husband for a moment, puzzling, before breaking into a smile.
"What?" Mickey asked, confused as to how Ian could go from having some sort of moral crisis over knocking out a hipster to grinning gleefully at his husband in a half second. Ian reached over and put his hand on Mickey's thigh. Immediately, the mood shifted. Pool cues squeaked as they were chalked up and glasses clinked on the countertops. The distinct chhh-chhh sound of a spray bottle punctured Mickey's ear drums as he looked down at his husband's hand on his thigh.
"So," Ian said, voice quieter than before. "Why did I have to punch that guy?"
Mickey smirked. He could be honest, and say the obvious reason, which was that Derek was a total douche canoe and deserved to be socked in the mouth by someone his own size. He could lie, and say it was because Derek seemed dangerous and Ian was just following his instincts, but that would have been the lie of the fucking century.
Instead, he said neither, and opted for something he knew would make Ian smile.
"Because you love me."
Ian's face broke into a full grin and he giggled, leaning over to kiss his husband once, quickly, well-aware of Mickey's hesitancy towards PDA when they were out and about on the South Side.
When he pulled back, he was smirking, and Mickey knew his cheeks were flushed. He hadn't been expecting the kiss, however brief it was, and his stomach felt a little fluttery.
"I mean, I'm not the kind of guy that just stands by and lets people talk shit about the man he loves." He grinned and Mickey rolled his eyes, remembering Ian telling him about the last words he'd said to Glittery Twink Byron the night they'd gotten engaged.
"You're a fuckin' sap, man."
"True," Ian said, standing up from the booth and stepping over Derek's leg as Mickey had done minutes before. He reached out his hand and pulled his husband from the booth. The two of them stood there momentarily, staring at Derek's lump of a body on the sticky, peanut-shell covered floor.
"Should we like, do something?" Mickey asked, kicking Derek's foot with his own boot. The man didn't move a muscle. Mickey wondered for a second if he might be dead, but the shallow rise and fall of the douche canoe's chest let him know that unfortunately, for all of humankind, the asshole was still alive.
Ian shook his head.
"Nah, he can sleep it off."
He reached down and took Mickey's hand in his own.
"C'mon," he said as he dragged them both towards the door. "Let's go get pizza."
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Well I haven’t watched sp all the way through for about a decade now, so I thought it was time
Sometimes I wonder how accurate the fandom is when it comes to how we interpret the characters. Like, why is Stan a football star so often in fanfic and why’s Kyle always the smart one? So I thought I’d rewatch the show and make notes along the way to see where the source of all these interpretations is. I also wanted to see if I could get some fun info to analyze, but season 1 is pretty sparse in that regard so there’s not too much of that in this post, but I’ll make a post for all the other seasons too as I watch them
In summary, it’s established in season 1 already that Stan’s a star quarterback and an animal lover, Kyle’s an A+ student, and Kenny is poor and knows a lot about sex and doesn’t have many qualms about doing crazy shit. Cartman is a bit weird since he’s mostly just a naive brat in this season, but he and Kyle have a mildly antagonistic friendship already
I have all my notes under this cut. They include a bunch of small details and other observations. I also listed every Kenny death just because
Ike has freckles
Cartman says “Weak!” and “You guys” and “Seriously” a lot from the start, also “Kickass!” He doesn’t say weak or kickass much in the later seasons iirc
Stan says “Dude, this is pretty fucked up right here” three times in this season but they dropped that catchphrase pretty quickly
Bebe got named in episode 2
Stan’s been an animal lover since s01e03 Volcano since he won’t shoot a bunny or anything else. He does shoot Scuzzlebutt at the end though
Cartman’s a pathological liar but in a childish way
Randy got named in s01e03 Volcano (and it only got worse from there)
The mayor went to Princeton
South Park is next to Mt. Evanson
Kenny will literally drink gasoline
Stan’s a star quarterback in 3rd grade
Clyde’s voice is wrong as hell in S01E04 Big Gay Al’s Big Gay Boat Ride and he has a dog, Rex
Garrison says Kyle is an A+ kid
Shelly seriously abuses Stan, punching him, throwing him, maiming him with a lawnmower
Cartman had a pot-bellied pig called Fluffy
Cartman’s mom smokes crack and has sex with strange men
Dr. Mephesto is probably a Buddhist since he says “Thank Buddha” instead of “Thank God”
Clyde’s voice gets kind of fixed in S01E06
A guy called Mr. McCormick is killed in a protest, launched and splattered against a network building. He doesn’t look like Kenny’s dad though
Zombie Clyde attacks Bebe, rude
Wendy gave her costume contest prize (2 tons of candy) to hungry children in Nairobi
Cartman’s mom is on the cover of Crack Whore magazine. “Back do’ ho… Five on one action!” is the headline
Cartman genuinely cries at Kenny’s grave after the whole zombie thing but gets over it because of candy
Stan knows his mom’s credit card number and has no problem using it to adopt an Ethiopian child (the boys wanted a watch that came with the adoption, they weren’t doing it to be nice)
Cartman calls Stan a vas deference, Stan doesn’t know what that is so Kenny says “Dude, it’s a pipe for your peepee” (according to a transcript). Kenny sure knows male anatomy
Kyle sniffs Kenny after Cartman asks why poor people smell like sour milk and Garrison says “idk eric they just do”
Cartman thinks poor people should die and decrease the surplus population
When the boys get Starvin’ Marvin delivered to them, Cartman says “Hey mom, we found an Ethiopian, can we keep him?” and his mom says “Sure, hun.” She rarely says no to Cartman
Kenny’s dad is an alcoholic who drinks scotch according to Cartman. I mean, Mr. McCormick is seen drinking in multiple episodes and has a hat that says SCOTCH so it’s probably true
Kenny’s family says grace
Craig’s first appearance is S01E09. Also, S01E09 is the first time Kenny doesn’t die (Coincidence? I THINK yeah but it’s still fun)
Clyde got named in S01E10
Clyde and Bebe both spit on Pip’s face, friendship goals <3
Cartman and Kyle have their first fight at Cartman’s birthday party because Kyle didn’t give the right gift. Cartman slaps his face and screams “I hate you! I want you to die! Die!” while on top of Kyle who’s not really fighting back
Satan throws a fight with Jesus after everyone except Satan bet that Jesus would lose, which leads to Satan winning everyone’s money. Mr. Garrison says “What a mean thing to do!” and Jimbo says “He is a jerk!” and I thought it was quite a laugh so I wrote it down
In S01E11 Tom’s Rhinoplasty Bebe and Wendy are sitting in the swings together and generally appear together throughout the episode, then Bebe gives Wendy a makeover so they’re bffs obviously <3
Craig first appears in the classroom, though not sitting down, in S01E11
Wendy’s not happy about Ms. Ellen taking Stan away from her, she says “Don’t fuck with me! Stay away from my man, bitch, or I’ll whoop your sorry ho ass back to last year!”
Kenny gives Ms. Ellen a scrumptious looking sausage as a valentine’s gift and giggles deviously. Wendy’s gift to Ms. Ellen is a dead animal
Even Kenny doesn’t know what a lesbian is
Wendy’s grandma died in S01E11
Wendy gets Ms. Ellen killed by hiring the Iraqi government (?) to put her in a rocket and shoot it into the sun, then she and Bebe have a pool party (very cool, they wear sunglasses 😎) and watch the rocket hit the sun
Cartman and Pip play a game of kicking each other in the nuts until someone falls. Cartman calls it “Roshambo”
Kenny has a sack of marbles
The boys aren’t fans of Barbra Streisand, but Stan is a fan of the Denver Broncos quarterback John Elway (he’s not a quarterback anymore, he’s an American football executive and the president of football operations for the Denver Broncos of the NFL according to wikipedia.)
Officer Barbrady is a fan of Fiona Apple (who was 20 at the time and had only one album released called Tidal)
Ned knows how to pilot a helicopter
Kyle’s mom is a fan of Streisand unlike literally everyone else, she even gets an autograph from Mecha Streisand
The boys are fans of Robert Smith, the lead singer of The Cure. Stan says “Robert Smith is the greatest person that ever lived!” and Kyle says “Disintegration is the best album ever!” and Cartman says “Robert Smith kicks ass!” and Kenny’s dead so he doesn’t get to have an opinion
Cartman has tea parties with his toys: Polly Prissypants, Clyde frog, Peter Panda, and a dragon called Rumpertumskin
Kyle wants to make fun of Cartman for the tea party but Stan stops him because he’s concerned that Cartman needs help
Craig is in front of the school counselor’s office in S01E13
A young miss Cartman drinks like a motherfucker at the 12th annual drunken barn dance where Cartman was supposedly conceived
Stan lets Cartman borrow his bike like a good friend
Garrison wanted to have a threesome with Chef and Cartman’s mom. I don’t know why I’m making a note of this but uh… yeah.
Cartman’s mom has had sex with everyone at this bar that Garrison’s drinking at, including principle Victoria, the mayor, Father Maxi, and Jesus (and maybe Kenny’s dad since he’s at the bar but the camera doesn’t pan to him when Garrison says they’ve all slept with Liane). Later Gerald Broflovski is a possible father to Eric, so he fucked her too. Also Mr. Mephesto and his friend Kevin, that little guy, are candidates along with a lot of other people, including the 1989 Denver Broncos (and Mr. Tenorman is included in that later)
Cartman doesn’t make fun of Kyle for being Jewish much at all in this season even though the Christmas episode is all about Kyle not celebrating
Clyde and Token appear very early on and Clyde has always been in the classroom (along with Bebe, Red, Kevin Stoley, Wendy, and Pip and uhh DogPoo too I think). Craig appears later in the season and Tweek’s not in season 1 at all, so Craig’s gang isn’t really a thing yet
And here’s a list of the ways Kenny died in this season. He dies in every episode except episode 9, and he dies twice in episodes 2 and 3. Altogether he dies 14 times
S01E01 Killed after alien shoots him, cows stampede over him, then cop runs him over which finally actually kills him
S01E02 Killed in a play by a falling teepee, then a second time shot by Garrison which sends him in the air and he gets impaled on a flagpole on the way down
S01E03 Killed by a volcano rock that burns him then rolls on him but he’s alive again in the end but gets shot by Ned’s gun that he drops and it accidentally goes off
S01E04 Gets his arms and head torn off in an American football game
S01E05 Stan’s clone punches Kenny into a microwave where he gets cooked alive
S01E06 Death touches Kenny
S01E07 Kenny gets crushed by a Russian space station and turns into a zombie because he gets Worcestershire sauce in his veins, then Kyle chainsaws zombie Kenny in half, then zombie Kenny rises from his grave and is crushed by a statue and a plane
S01E08 Kenny is killed by a bunch of turkeys. His eye gets plucked out. It’s dark blue
S01E10 After Kenny gets turned into a duck-billed platypus, Jimbo and Ned shoot him
S01E11 Ms. Ellen throws a sword through Kenny’s face
S01E12 While Mecha Streisand and a giant robot Leonard Maltin fight, Kenny plays with a tetherball and gets the rope wrapped around his neck and it strangles him
S01E13 Kenny gets stuck on a go kart and it drags him around but stops and he’s still alive! Too bad the go kart stops on train tracks and a train runs him over. Stan’s grandpa sends a video of the event to America’s Stupidest Home Videos and wins $10,000
If you read all that, first of all hello. I’m not new to the fandom even though this is the first thing I’ve posted on this tumblr blog. I’ve been writing a fanfic called Caffetamine though so I’m not a complete non-entity. Anyway, I’ll watch season 2 soon and post my notes on that too probably.
#south park#sp rewatch#i made way too many notes#kenny used to get dialog in almost every episode#poor kenny#he really gets shafted later
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The Police Department So Bad ––– A Officer Called Black Lives Matter ––– And Complained
A new lawsuit accuses a police department with a history of alleged horrors—KKK magazines left for a Black cop, racist slurs—of firing a policeman who finally blew the whistle.
Over his year of service in the department of Millersville, Tennessee; Black had allegedly been subjected to sexual harassment, including from a female officer who used a racist slur while grabbing his genitals.
The police chief, whom Black suspected of harboring Ku Klux Klan ties, had allegedly made disparaging comments about Black’s biracial son.
The assistant police chief was under investigation for allegedly assaulting his wife during a dispute over an alleged affair with a drug suspect.
Through it all, management allegedly silenced officers’ complaints by instructing them to support the “thin blue line.”
“Nobody would listen to what was going on up there,” Black told The Daily Beast. “Nobody cared.”
So Black made a fake Facebook profile, reached out to Black Lives Matter organizers, and blew the whistle on his department. Days later, he was fired. At least two other officers who allegedly clashed with management departed soon thereafter.
In a new lawsuit, first reported by Nashville’s NewsChannel 5, Black and former Millersville Police sergeant Joshua Barnes describe a culture of harassment and intimidation in their former department. Both men cite a pattern of alleged racist behavior from the department’s leadership—directed at Barnes because he is Black, and at Black because he is white with a biracial son.
The lawsuit’s three defendants are Millersville Police chief Mark Palmer, assistant chief Dustin Carr, and the city of Millersville. Carr did not return The Daily Beast’s request for comment. Palmer stated that, although he would like to address the suit’s allegations, all comments must be directed through the city and its manager. Millersville’s city manager did not return requests for comment.
The case is not the first time Palmer and the city have faced a lawsuit from within their ranks. In 2015, two men who had previously been Millersville’s only Black officers sued Palmer and the city, alleging racial discrimination.
In their lawsuit, which was dismissed with prejudice in 2016, both men claimed Palmer had told each of them that “I don’t like n-----s.” One of the former officers, Anthony Hayes, claimed Palmer took him on an unexplained visit to a former KKK leader’s home, where Hayes “was subjected to an extended conversation in the presence of KKK memorabilia.” Hayes also accused Palmer of placing a copy of a KKK magazine in Hayes’ locker, with a sticky note that read “this was left for you—don’t let your subscription run out.” In their response to the lawsuit, the city denied the allegations against Palmer. (The plaintiffs included in their lawsuit an email from the city manager stating that Palmer would be disciplined in the magazine incident.)
The above photo is a stock photo. It is not intended to suggest any individual is directly involved with this report. Its use depicts the association and the ideology of closed mindedness, police associations are alleged of having when dealing with public groups.
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Hayes and the other former officer, Brian McCartherenes, claimed to have been forced out of their posts after they accused the department of racism. Hayes claimed he was “forced to resign” following a punitive shift change. A police memo shows that McCartherenes was fired for alleged racist conduct, because he told a new Black officer that “at the end of the day, remember you are Black.”
“This KKK publication is not something you can go get at the library. You can’t go buy it at the 7/11. These publications are like, homemade...”
McCatherenes claimed he intended the statement as a warning about the risks of being a Black officer in a small town. That new officer was Joshua Barnes, one of the plaintiffs in the latest suit against Millersville’s police brass.
Barnes claims he soon encountered a culture of racism firsthand. Palmer called Black people “n-----s,” “monkeys,” and “animals,” Barnes alleges in his suit, adding that Palmer invoked racial stereotypes about Barnes “always want[ing] to get some fried chicken and watermelon.”
Barnes claims the legacy of Millersville’s previous Black officers lingered over his own employment. Assistant police chief Dustin Carr “informed Sgt. Barnes that Millersville did not want to hire Black people because they may sue the City ‘like Anthony [Hayes] and Brian [McCartherenes] did,’” the lawsuit alleges. Barnes claims the department hired only one other Black person during his tenure: an officer whom Palmer allegedly joked was related to O.J. Simpson. The officer lasted “a few months before he left out of frustration due to Mark Palmer’s racist comments,” the suit reads.
When Robert Black joined the force in June 2019, he had been unaware of its reputation. That changed quickly, he claims, when Palmer learned that Black’s son is biracial. The lawsuit claims Palmer expressed dissatisfaction with Black, telling another officer that “Robert is a little different. He’s not one of us.” When the other officer asked what Palmer meant, the chief allegedly replied “well you know, his kid and all… He’s just not one of us.”
Black told The Daily Beast that Palmer started treating him with hostility around the time of the alleged comments. Other Millersville officers also allegedly turned against Black. A female officer allegedly made repeated unwanted advances toward Black. At one point, according to the lawsuit, the officer allegedly grabbed Black’s genitals through his pants. When Black told the colleague to leave him alone, she allegedly responded “why? Because I’m not a n----r?”
Although Black claims to have reported his colleague, his supervisors allegedly refused to pursue the matter, with Carr allegedly making his own sexualized comments about Black. (Black told The Daily Beast that Carr gave the nickname “Tripod” in the office. “It made me feel very weird,” Black said, adding that other officers picked up on the name before he learned it was an innuendo.)
Carr, meanwhile, was facing other accusations of impropriety after he allegedly began a relationship with a Millersville woman who was charged, but never convicted, on multiple drug counts. Carr was married at the time. In April 2020, according to Barnes and Black’s lawsuit, Carr allegedly assaulted his wife when she accused him of infidelity. Carr began bringing his new partner into the office in May “much to the chagrin” of some officers, the lawsuit alleges.
What Happened When Cops Joined MAGA Hellsite Parler
JUST LOOKING AROUND
That month marked another flashpoint for law enforcement. The murder of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer set off nationwide protests, allegedly enraging Palmer. In the lawsuit, Barnes claims to have witnessed Palmer watching a video of a protest in Nashville, during which Palmer allegedly called the demonstrators “n-----s” and “animals.” “Let these motherfuckers come to my house,” the lawsuit claims Palmer said. “I’ll shoot ’em and string those fuckers up in my front yard.”
In August 2020, Nashville’s WSMV reported, the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation began investigating Carr for alleged domestic violence. (A TBI spokesperson told The Daily Beast the investigation into Carr “remains active and ongoing.”)
Barnes and Black allege that Carr and other police leadership became convinced that officers were leaking details to investigators. According to the lawsuit, and an October 2020 report by NewsChannel 5, Millersville Police pressured officers not to cooperate with the TBI investigation. “Chief Palmer berated Barnes about the ‘thin blue line,’ and the need to cover for other officers,” the lawsuit alleges.
But while Palmer allegedly warned officers against speaking to TBI officials, Black was ready to go public with a growing dossier of complaints. Following Palmer’s alleged remarks about Black’s son, Black had read up on Hayes’ and McCartherenes’ 2015 lawsuit, particularly Hayes’ account of finding a KKK magazine in his locker.
“This KKK publication is not something you can go get at the library. You can’t go buy it at the 7/11. These publications are like, homemade, produced on someone’s printing press. It’s hate literature,” Black told The Daily Beast.
The rarity of the publication, plus Palmer’s alleged field trip with Hayes to a former KKK house, led Black to suspect the police chief had current or former Klan ties of his own.
“You can’t find this anywhere,” Black said of the magazine. “That’s why I hit up BLM [Black Lives Matter] reps. I was like, ‘hey y’all…’”
“Nobody would listen to what was going on up there. Nobody cared.”
THAT WAS ABOUT TO CHANGE!
Black said that in September 2020, he made a pseudonymous Facebook page and began seeking out Nashville-area Black Lives Matter activists. “I started letting them know: hey guys, maybe you want to look into the police chief up here. It’s a small city and everyone’s so focused on Nashville. This guy was apparently in a KKK lawsuit by a Black cop five years ago.”
Find out how the story concludes. Visit the reports origin - where the author Kelly Weill - introduced the piece. The ending is worth the the click! Besides you have only a short - paragraph or two to go... Go to https://www.thedailybeast.com/author/kelly-weill and read the final paragraphs of this report. It is worth your time and take time to click on social media links so you can follow the story to keep tuned to future updates from Daily Beast concerning this story.
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#black lives matter#blm ally#police brutality#protests over police officer shooting in minneapolis#anti kkk#kkk#hate prejudices#hate crime#hate#racial prejudice#prejudice#police crime#racial violence#black communities#black men#black families#asian hate crimes#hispanic lives matter#Hispanic hate crimes#hispanics#native american#indigenous#india#aclu#naacp#southern poverty law center
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sinner;
Jungkook x Female Reader
Genre: Cop AU, An onslaught of Angst, Thriller, Mature
Warnings: Obsessive/Possessive behavior, Toxic relationships, Yandere, Stalking, Emotional and Physical abuse, MiSoGYny, Violence, Bad parents, Bad cops, Kidnapping
Word Count: 11,000
Summary: No matter where you run, the past will find you.
The dark clouds approached along the light blue fabric of the sky.
You watched them from your car window, dreading the downpour you’d have to drive home through tonight. With a sigh, you open the door and step out of your 2012 Hyundai Accent, planting your soles firmly onto the cemented parking lot. Your rustic car shakes with the loss of weight and the door creaks at the hinges once you slam it shut.
Somehow the old you had managed to entertain yourself with the thought that receiving a promotion would ultimately be able to afford you a better car, but no – you were stuck with the same failing engine, same worn out tires, same chipped paint aside the right headlight and occasional oil leaks.
Old you was a fool, you think, placing your hands in your coat pocket and walking towards the station in a swift, rigid pace. The air was chilly, and the strong breeze hit your face in unpleasant streaks. You kept your head down, arms clinging to the sides of your body to warm you up. There were barely any people outside the station, just a couple of men in blue quickly ensuring victims or witnesses. Years on the force had given you the eye to spot the differences between your average citizen and a perp with ease.
Perps always had an emptiness in their gaze. A vacant spot that erased their crime from their own mind. Defense mechanism they call it. You weren’t a stranger to that emotion yourself.
With no time to waste, you rush up the steps. As you pull the door of the station open, your ears are immediately filled with chatter, paper clatter and ringing phones. More importantly your body is filled with warmth. Like it was memorized in your head, you sift through the desks and file cabinets with ease, trudging past several rushing bodies on your way to a hallway down the right. Reaching the end of the corridor, you see the four men you were expecting through the clear glass window in front of their room. They were laughing at something one of them had said, a laughter that came to a full stop the moment you burst into the chief’s office.
All eyes were on you.
“There you are, detective! Right on time.” The chief, a charismatically aged character, calls out your last name as he leans back in his creaky leather chair.
“Not like she has anything better to do…” Hyun, the Sergeant’s younger partner, remarks underneath his breath.
“It’s my day off chief…this better be good.”
“Why? Did you have a date?” You catch Hyun’s sarcastic eyes before he bursts into a fit of laughter at your unamused face.
“Like you ever get laid.” Jimin scoffs at him with a raised eyebrow from the opposite side of the room.
“Motherfucker I got laid last night!” Hyun shouts like that was the funniest thing he’s said while Jimin holds back his growing smile.
“Yeah? Your asshole still hurt?” Sarge slams Hyun in the back as they all break out into mutual cackles. Hyun fights back by pushing his older partner into a cabinet while making derogatory remarks.
You try not to scowl at the suffocating testosterone in the air as you watch the boys play around.
“All right, all right, quiet down.” The chief shouts, rubbing his forehead wrinkles with his fingers and looking back at you like he suddenly remembered you exist. “___- uh…we got a little situation for you.”
He reaches to the left of his desk and picks up a file before throwing it up ahead on the table. There was a sudden coating of thick silence around the room as your eyes roam from the detectives scrutinizing you, back to the thick manilla folder thrown out in front of you. You carefully walk up to where the file laid, picking it up and examining the name on the small name card clipped at the top left.
“Jeon Jungkook?”
You question in surprise. Your orbs fly from the chief’s empty face to the white name card.
“How much do you know about Jeon?” The chief asks slowly. You recognize that tone of voice. That tone you’ve witnessed multiple times in interrogation with a suspect. The aura in the room felt strange.
You drop the file to your side so you can look the chief right in the eyes.
“What do you mean? I know that he’s the most accomplished assassin-for-hire to this date. I know that he has his dirty hands everywhere across the East. I know that he’s responsible for Asia’s most influential triad trade. I know that he’s taken down too many of our own and I know he should be jammed into a cage for the rest of his life, chief.”
The chief exhaled, some tension leaving his facial features as he leans further back in his chair and shuts his eyes. You studied the man in pity. Was this how you were bound to end up in a few years? Bald, stressed, only black coffee in your system, suspicious of everyone and everything with a failing marriage and kids who won’t speak to you?
Half of that was actually how you lived like right now.
“I’m sorry, ___. You know how many rumors there are of officers under Jeon’s thumb. Patrollers, lieutenants, even agents…they are all chummy with that bastard. I can’t help but be careful.”
“What do you mean? What does this have to do with me, chief?” You furrowed your eyebrows, still not understanding what was happening or why you were called in on your day off for an ‘urgent’ matter.
“We caught him.” Sarge interjects, “Tip came in this morning about a deal in the abandoned mill off the northwest. He surrendered as soon as we showed up, no casualties.”
You couldn’t stop your mouth from dropping. Did you hear that correctly? Jeon Jungkook, who had been on the world’s most wanted list for 6 years now just happened to be caught in your city, at the abandoned mill in the middle of the day? It was hard to believe but Sarge didn’t seem like he was joking.
“T-that’s great…w- is he in custody right now? Here?”
“He is. But we have a problem though…” You look back at the chief who was staring right at you. “He won’t talk.”
“I mean we expected that, right? He did the same thing in Hong Kong. Wha- is...is he pleading the fifth or-”
“That’s the thing, he surrendered but didn’t make any attempts to cooperate, he’s just been sitting stationary on his ass for 3 hours. The deputy had to phone it in as soon as he got here, so Kane’s bound to show up at any minute. They’ll take him away to some fucking facility and we’ll just have to stick out our tongues and wag our tails while the big boys do the real work. Damn! We couldn’t find jack shit when raiding the fucking mill!” The chief rambled, still massaging his forehead like he had a headache. “And that deadly weapon expert? All he had on him was an old handkerchief.”
He snorted but there was no amusement in his voice. But suddenly his vigor died down and his eyes stared off into the distance.
“…There’s only one thing he said the entire time he’s been in that interrogation room.”
“…What did he say?” You ask carefully, noticing the way everyone present was glaring holes into you.
“He said he’ll only speak to you.” The chief leans towards you, placing his elbows on his desk with his eyes slightly squinting and an unspoken question on his lips.
Suddenly the room turns cold and you feel like you were outside in that freezing chill once again. Your mind runs a mile a minute and your skin breaks out into goosebumps. It all makes sense just then. The threatening atmosphere, the stare downs, the discerning. They all had one question staining their mind. Why would the world’s most powerful hitman and black arms dealer want to talk to some random low-grade rookie detective?
Hell, you didn’t know yourself.
“Me? Why would he want to speak to me?”
“He said he knows you.”
You couldn’t stop yourself from scoffing. That was ridiculous. If you met someone like Jeon Jungkook before, you would remember it…wouldn’t you?
“Chief, I’m telling you, I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Then how could he know your full name?” Hyun interrupts
You glare at him from your position in the middle of the room. “How am I supposed to know dumbass?”
He smirks, his disgusting gaze sharpening. “Maybe he just knows how to sniff out the cunts.”
“Watch your fucking mouth Hyun.” Jimin steps between you both in a flash. He was facing away from you, but you could tell he was pissed by how he clenched his fists. Hyun scoffs, the corner of his lips picking up.
“I sniff two.”
It all happens in the blink of an eye. Jimin tries to leap at him but you barely manage to hold your partner back by the shoulder. Smart mouth also gets up from where he was leaning before Sarge rushes up to the younger. They both glare at each other like they were ready to kill while you grimace looking at each of their loaded holsters. The fact that these men were allowed to open carry was the most terrifying part.
“Enough!” The chief shouts, standing from his desk, “Hyun learn how to shut your yap hole for once, and Park, I need you to back off. There’s already a lot of tension in this room cause of Jeon…let’s handle that motherfucker first, officers.”
He warns Jimin to which you hold him tighter, whispering at him to let it go. Eventually the blonde simmers down – they both do, and you watch the way the chief exhales defeatedly.
“___, is there any reason at all- anything you can think of- and really think now, all the way back to before you transferred here- as to why Jeon Jungkook would want to speak to you? Why he would say he knows you?”
“None, chief.” You state calmly. There was nothing to think about, you didn’t know him.
The man stares at you for a moment before nodding. “Alright then, officer. I’ll need you in that interrogation room immediately. Maybe you can find an answer to this whole mess of a situation.”
“What the hell chief?” Hyun immediately complains, “I brought him in! I should be the one questioning him! You can’t just do that to me-” He growls, stepping up to the boss’ desk.
“Shut it!” Sergeant smacks the back of his big head while you breathe through your nose to keep calm.
Hyun always made his dislike for you obvious. It was difficult to pinpoint the exact reason he hated you because there were one too many. You were a stickler for rules and tradition, a woman (more specifically a woman who has made more arrests than him), and not the type to try and fit in. He hated how you didn’t fall in line and mostly kept to yourself – private and introverted. Whatever, you didn’t give a fuck about what he thought of you. Although you were used to Hyun’s moronic nature, it was still rarely this chaotic and tense in your station. Everyone seemed to be at one another’s neck. The most thrill you all had was capturing a local drug dealer a few years back.
But then again, Jeon Jungkook was far from your average criminal.
“You were in there for 2 and a half fucking hours with the captain himself, Hyun. What did you get out of it?” Chief groans
“I-I just need a little more time, just a li-”
“Time we don’t have!” The older man yells at the top of his lungs. “I know you’re the one who cuffed him and I’m real happy for that 20 second thrill you got but you can’t just get your panties in a twist when things don’t go your way. ___ here is just as capable of an officer as you. If she can get him to talk and we can gain some info on him and his little gang before those FBI pigs show up – just think of what that could mean for the team…”
Hyun scowled at the elder for a minute before contemplating on what was just said. Pursing his lips, he took a step back with a face that screamed defeat. “Yes, chief.” He mumbles.
“Good. Now ___,” The attention was once again placed on you. “We don’t have much time. Get out there and find out what that son of a bitch is thinking.”
“Yes, chief.”
“But listen, this man knows your name meaning it’s safe to say he knows your identity. He’s smart and he’s dangerous. Don’t get caught in any of his traps. We’ll be listening from the other side of the wall so if you feel like something’s off, signal us at any time, alright?”
His order had all the men in the room frowning for different reasons. Jimin had on his usual concerned face and even Sarge seemed worried. The thought of any stranger knowing your identity terrified you. But these were the last people on earth you would tell that to. You paid their disturbed expressions no mind as you nodded in determination, pulling your posture straight and holding your head up high.
“Yes, chief.”
_
You clench the file towards your chest.
There was an unsettling feeling you felt standing outside the door of interrogation room 4. Same one you had felt the first time you became a detective and were ordered to interrogate some big burly guy who had slashed his ex-girlfriend’s tires. Even though you thought you had left your past behind, here it was, surrounding you in an uncomfortable heat. This wasn’t just some petty thief who robbed a local convenience store or some middle-aged man who tried to choke his wife to death.
No. This was much, much bigger than that.
Jeon Jungkook, also known as JJK was a notorious hitman with several successful operations carried out around the world. In Washington, Libya, Hong Kong, Brazil and even Rome. He made the most wanted list when he was only 19 and was infamous for getting the job done. None of the men in his list survived…ever. Not only was he a perfectionist in his handiwork but also knew how to deal with the preparation.
A master of weapons; he could operate a H&K P7 in his sleep and take down 10 operatives with a single combat knife. His knowledge of artillery made him a big deal amongst the triads so setting up a little side business as a black arms dealer was a walk in the park for him. He was strong, fast, smart and feared. Not even the finest could catch him and at times months would go on by without a sighting.
Yet suddenly…he was just behind this door.
And who did he desperately want to see?
You.
By name.
Of all people.
Now you consider yourself a logical person. Someone guided by intellect before anything else. You did the math, worked on the equation, pondered on the systematics but nothing clicked. Nothing. There was absolutely no reason for someone like him to want to meet you but then again, the whole situation was the strangest fucking thing you’ve seen.
Surrendering at an abandoned mill in your jurisdiction would be the last place you’d think Jeon Jungkook would be captured. In your mind, his destiny was meant to end on a grander scale at the edge of the world. Some Hollywood theatrical-like bullshit where they would have him cornered on some rooftop with multiple choppers and snipers ready to take him down. This however – the threatening but anticlimactic atmosphere… it didn’t make any sense. Not for someone as careful and calculated as Jungkook.
For some reason, it just felt like he was waiting on something…something big to happen. A sensation of doom coursed throughout your body. Everything about today felt wrong. Like you and your colleagues were caught right in his talons.
By far, the most bizarre part about the situation was how he knew your name and you. You’ve always kept such a lowkey profile, it just didn’t make any sense.
“___?” The sound of your name startles you and you whip towards your side to see your partner dressed in his usual face of worry. “You alright?”
“…I’m good.” You choke out, trying to sound as lucid as possible.
It doesn’t seem to convince him however as he tilts his head and frowns at you.
“Listen, if you don’t want to talk to him, you don’t have to. Chief shouldn’t have pushed you into this bullshit – why do we even have to listen to what a criminal wants anyway? I-”
“Jimin, calm down. I’m fine.”
“Bu-”
“Your mollycoddling doesn’t help as much as you think it does, Park.”
Your words seem to have surprised him, his stubborn expression morphing into denial.
“That’s…I didn’t mean…”
You shut your tired eyes, feeling bad about the way you spoke to your only friend at the station. This is exactly why everyone thought you were way too rigid and unapproachable. Jimin however was too much of a nice guy, always going out of his way to make friendly with you. It always made you wonder – why would a well-liked, popular and talented guy such as Jimin want to hang around you or even ask the chief to be your partner? Maybe it was pity he felt for you.
That feeling was not something you desired. It left a nauseous impression down your throat. All you wanted was to do your job the best you could, go home, take your pills and sleep your days away. You didn’t want anyone’s kindness or company, you just wanted it to be over. Park Jimin’s sincerity was a hindrance.
“I’m sorry it’s just…I’m real tired of getting treated like this. I get it, I’m a woman and somehow that means I’m a less than, a cause for concern or just a fucking HR liability. I fucking get it without every single one of you reminding me every damn day.”
“You know that’s not what I meant, ___.” Jimin stares at you apologetically
“Then please, Jimin. Let me do my job.” You hold his stare until he eventually sighs, giving you a nod and retreating.
Once he walks away, you let out a shaky exhale, reaching towards the door handle with trembling fingers. Get it together, you whisper to yourself. After all the tough talk, the truth was you weren’t ready. You were scared shitless. Maybe Hyun was right about you.
Maybe your father was.
Drowning out every negative thought, you turn the door handle and push the door open.
_
You were immediately greeted by the usual silent man on the interrogation chair. His dark orbs were soundlessly watching the wall ahead of him. When you step into the room, he turns his head to look at you. Once he notices you, he instantly breaks out into a smirk. Clenching your file harder, you physically stop yourself from shivering.
You had seen him before, in blurry internet sightings and news coverages. But never up close and personal…and never smiling. It was like you entered a whole different world; the room you were pretty familiar with felt like a surreal fantasy. He was drop dead gorgeous. Lethal, you could say. His face was round, and features were sharp. A prominent nose, pink lips, sharp jaw and intense, smoldering eyes. Midnight black hair shyly covered his temple as he sat upright and confident in his chair.
He was dressed rather casually – a dark blue denim jacket that molded around his muscles and black top that covered his long neck. Tight fitted black pants that were ripped at the knees, displaying his thick, strong thighs and the heaviest leather boots you’ve ever seen. His hands were cuffed to the table so everyone can see them at all times. All he did was sit still but somehow commanded your whole attention. You gulped involuntarily at the sight before you.
You’ve never seen a man more comfortable in his own skin.
When he notices you ogling, he raises a brow in amusement. It alarms you, your eyes shooting to the large mirror on the other side of the wall. They were probably watching you…waiting for you to mess up.
Not wanting to throw them anymore bones, you clear your throat. Walking in and sitting down opposite to Jungkook. You don’t give him the time of day, pretend not to notice his bottomless orbs following your every move as you flip the file open a couple pages. As you continue to ignore him, you swear you could hear him tsk under his breath.
“So… Jeon Jungkook. Aged 23. Professional hitman. Side arms dealer. Wanted by the CIA, FSB, NSA and the Navy seals. Says here you’ve pissed off a lot of people, Jungkook.”
This was routine. The lighthearted police tone you always used. Very rarely would officers come off strongly when interrogating perps unless they were fucking morons. It was better if everyone just cooperated like this was an elementary school’s playground and none of the children got violent. Perps had to feel comfortable enough to spill it all. Being approachable, calm and levelheaded was normal for an efficient detective.
It was normal.
But it didn’t feel normal. You found yourself cringing at your voice, at the way you spoke. Your words felt so out of place and awkward. For some reason, you were hyper aware of everything you were doing. Maybe it was because you were under Jungkook’s extremely scrutinizing gaze or maybe because you knew Hyun was probably sounding out some sarcastic remarks about your abilities behind that mirror. Whatever it was, you didn’t feel good. Yet you continued on like everything was fine.
“You’ve been quite the busy boy, haven’t you?” You continue on, flipping through the file and swallowing the uneasiness.
“Like you wouldn’t believe, doll.”
His pet name for you stops you in your tracks. In the middle of turning a page that hung in midair. Slowly, you look up at him from beneath your lashes and he has on that same damn smirk. Stress-free posture and concentrated gaze. Looks like he was comfortable.
“…Really? Mind telling me about it?”
He continues to stare at you for a moment before letting out a humorous sigh. Jungkook leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and rolling his tongue in his cheek.
“What would you like to know?”
“Whatever you have for me.” You reply back, leaning in and using in the same low tone he used. Mirroring the suspect, playing the game. No matter how shaken you were, you knew how to do your job.
Another smirk appears on his face before he props back on his chair.
“Mhmm, I don’t know how much I can tell you doll. We all have secrets you see, we all got someone to fool. Like you right now.”
As his words settle in, you become confused. And by the way he chuckles, you know he can see it.
“That face you have on, that cute look of determination. Flipping through those pages like you’re learning something new about me. Something that I myself might not know. Like you didn’t already memorize it front to back, way before you came in here...those eyes that are desperately trying to win us over…like you have so much to prove still.”
You were thrown off. The way he unflinchingly delivered his speech in the most persuasive way. There was a certain way you had expected this to go in your mind, a certain power your brain gave you over him but now you realize all your thoughts were dust. In reality, you couldn’t comprehend what the fuck he was going on about which gave him the upper hand.
Thus, you looked into his eyes for an answer. Genuine eyes that shone as clear as day. It made you realize that he had nothing to hide. There was nothing he was trying to erase.
It left you speechless.
Your face must have been very obvious because next thing you knew, he was answering the question that lingered your thoughts.
“Your uncertainty gives you away. I guess it’d be present in anyone who’s constantly been made to feel inferior. All your life, you’ve had to go above and beyond to be considered half as good as your colleagues with dicks. No matter how much pain and humiliation you’ve endured, everyone expects more from you. It would drive anyone mad.” He moves in further, practically whispering at this point. “It could make anyone commit sinful acts.”
“…sinful?”
“My mother used to tell me about them,” He relaxes back in his chair, “…before she left that is. She was big on religion so she’d tell me all about these people who did bad deeds- sinner, she would call them. She’d go on and on about how they look and how they act. How they don’t have a place in this world amongst the good, non-sinners. We’d know exactly how to identify them, wouldn’t we doll?”
In the bright center of interrogation room 4, your pools were glued on the stranger that knew too much but let on too little. Jungkook was the one in cuffs, but you were the one who was starting to feel trapped.
“You don’t know me. We’re not the same.” You said out loud.
He turns silent for a moment, before grinning. “I think we’re more alike than you are aware of, detective.”
“Don’t fall for any of his traps.”
“W-” You swallow, “We’re not here to talk about me…”
You tried sounding as rational and self-assured as before, but your voice was barely above a murmur. And after you spoke, he smiled. His smile was way too innocent compared to who you knew he was.
“So, you want to know about me?” He chuckled “What do you want to know?
This was your chance, you thought, surprised at how easily he seemed to be ready to change the subject matter. You began flipping through the folder nonchalantly again, trying to get back on track.
“How about you start at the mill. Who were you meeting with so early in the day, Jungkook?”
Suddenly, his eyes darken and the look on his face becomes sinister, but that smile never falls. You couldn’t help but shift in your seat at his unexpected gaze.
“If you really want to know about everything that led up to this morning…then we’d have to look back quite a bit. Maybe back years ago…to a kid whose mother was never around and whose father beat the living shit out of him twice a day.”
He throws his head back and breaks out into a laugh at your unimpressed face. You were all ears but the last thing you wanted to do was spend an uncomfortable hour or two in here. The man creeped you out, so if he could just hurry up and get on with it, maybe you could go finish your nap and forget about today.
“Okay, okay, hah,” He sits back up straight, trying to conceal his laughter, “We don’t have to go that far back, but yeah this kid had it hard. But he was never one of those cucks. As he grew older, he couldn’t just sit there and take it. No…it wasn’t like that for him…he had to fight back, and he did fight for what he could, no matter what it took. He-”
_
“Open this fucking door you little freak!”
The door’s pounding shook the whole room. His anxiety was through the roof as he watched the weak wood quiver each time the monster banged against it. It could break at any moment now and he was afraid. He always, always acted tough. Always fought back the best he could. But the truth was that he was just a skinny teenaged brat.
He didn’t want to fight. He wasn’t built for it.
“Fuck off!” The kid tried to sound as menacing as possible, but it came out a pathetic whimper and only seemed to anger the man on the other side of the locked door even further.
It was hilarious really; the kid couldn’t help but leak tears. He hadn’t eaten in days, it was his 4th beating of the week – he felt lightheaded and his body was on fire. All he wanted in that moment as he clenched his fists over his ears inside the dark bathroom was for the door to stay strong. For anyone to help him.
But as the lock broke and the wood let out a heinous whine and he was hit with sudden light and a large shadow, he realized circumstances do not work in your favor when you stand there and do nothing. And the moment he understood that, was the moment his life was about to drastically change. More accurately, the very next week.
When you entered his life.
“So- Jeon Jungkook, age 16, failing high school student…written up 4 times, visited juvie twice. Now, tell me why you beat up that kid, Jeon?” You stood up straight, writing away mindlessly in your small notebook.
The kid did nothing but stare at you through his bruised eye and busted lip, while he sat on the edge of your desk. It wasn’t his first time dealing with the cops and something inside him always knew it wouldn’t be his last. When you didn’t hear his answer, you huffed, looking up at him from the pages between your fingers.
“Well? I don’t have all night you know. I could just lock you in.”
He smirked. It was easy to tell you were new, he noticed as soon as you walked in and were told to book him by the guy who arrested him. Your uniform had been pressed with great care, not one hair was out of place and your badge was polished and perfectly positioned. It felt like you just came out of one of those corny films about the ‘good’ cops; fighting crime for justice and truth. The kid was even younger than he was at that moment when he realized just how full of bullshit that trope was.
One glance around the room, at the other pigs in uniform and he knew you had just gotten the job. That your spirits hadn’t been crushed unlike these soulless bodies wandering the station’s premises.
That was the best quality about the kid, he had always been observant. A lot more than his peers or even the adults in his life. He could tell a great deal about you at one glance. You seemed jittery and nervous, trying to write as neatly as possible. It felt like you were trying to get someone’s attention – a high ranking older officer, who you kept observing from the corner of your eye. As the kid watched that man chortle with his equally dull colleagues, he thought there was a resemblance in you both, but that there also wasn’t.
“Then why don’t you?” The kid replied a bit too sarcastically, wanting this to be over with as quickly as possible so maybe he could get some sleep for the first time in 3 days. It would do him a lot of good actually, being away from that house for a little while. Subtly, he was pleading.
“Look kid,” You grimaced, “I know that guy you beat up, he’s a racist little shit. He probably did something to you, I’m sure or you wouldn’t carry so many self-defense wounds along your hands. There might be some way I could help you; I want to help you. But only if you tell me what really happened, alright?”
It was silent just then. He was silent.
“I want to help you.”
He was expecting you to reprimand him for his smart mouth and then lock him up. That’s what anyone who took one glance at his file did. It was filled with crap about him, shit that they peered their nose over because they were so much better than him. The kid never trusted adults; they never did anything for him. He was the child that everyone discriminated against to remind themselves how lucky they were. At least my child’s not like that, is what they all thought. No one cared about his side of the story. No one but…you.
Your answer was something that caught him off guard for the first time in years.
“Why do you want to help me? I’m a criminal.”
“Oh yeah, you got a record,” You reply casually, flipping through your notes, “I glanced over it, it’s all for stealing food.”
Suddenly you became quiet. Taking a step back, you begin to study him up and down from where he sat.
“Is… is your dad not feeding you?”
Your gaze shifted further into concern and he held his breath. He’s never seen those eyes before on anyone – never for him. Shit, his own mother never looked at him like that. Like she felt something for him. Not even when the bitch ran off with the neighbor and left him with that monster – young, weak and helpless.
Having someone worry about him made him feel strange, his whole body broke out into a quiver and his eyes watered. That kid could see himself in the reflection of your eyes that had widened dramatically at the change in his demeanor. And he tried to stop himself but for some reason, he wanted you to worry about him.
“Uh- I..wai- don’t cry-'' Flustered, you scrambled around, trying to find a tissue. You were new at the job and you weren’t used to people breaking apart yet. Everyone around you seemed so busy, hustling around the station like they didn’t see a teenage boy in the start of a mental breakdown…that or they didn’t care. Finally, you grab the handkerchief your mom had stuffed inside your uniform pocket and carefully hold it out for him.
But you drop it in a flash when you witness him get struck across the face the very next instant.
“YOU FUCKING TROUBLESOME BRAT!”
You flinched at the loud, unforgiving voice that resounded throughout the station. Everyone instantly went noiseless and it felt like the station just halted for the first time in years. All you could hear were the lingering ringing of phones.
“How many times have I warned you not to make trouble? You’re a disgrace!” The man spit into the kid’s face. He was tall, maybe 6’2, and muscular compared to the teenager but stood unevenly, favoring his left foot and walked with a limp. His face bore a scar on the cheek that was partially covered with a jungle of facial hair. His eyes seemed insane with anger and he reeked of hard liquor. You had to remind yourself that you had a taser in your holster.
Slowly, you looked back at the kid whose fringe covered his eyes. He hadn’t moved an inch since the man slapped his face. A large red handprint on his already wounded skin. It pulled at your heartstrings.
“S-sir?” You cleared your throat to which the crazy man turned his sneer towards you. But you couldn’t let that faze you. “You can’t just hit a child like that, I need you to back away.”
That was the best you could do at sounding confident, but your strength wavered as soon as the man took a step towards you.
“You trying to tell me how to raise my son, girlie?”
The scent of alcohol clouded your senses. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish. Your body started trembling, but you still tried to stand your ground until-
“Jeon!”
Another loud voice interrupts you. This time though, you recognized that voice. Your dad steps between you and the snarling man and you almost cry out of relief. You gape at both of the men in awe, staring one another down. The tension wraps around your throat and you worry for the kid behind all of this. If a brawl breaks out, he’s likely to get injured…
For a second you tried peeking back at your desk over your dad’s shoulder, until you hear sudden robust laughter in front of you.
What the fuck?
“You son of a bitch, how’ve you been?” Your father daps his hand with the terrifying man and your face morphs into confusion.
The demeanor and the whole damn atmosphere between the men changed, just like that. All the suffocating animosity had vanished in an instant as if it never existed, which left you dumbstruck and standstill.
“I’ve been good you dick. You’re a lieutenant now, I see. No wonder I haven’t seen you around the parlor much.” The guy cackles loudly, making you cringe at his rotten teeth and bad breath.
“Ahh~ You know, the old ball and chain.” Your father so kindly refers to your mother, “Heh, actually I’m a sober man now! My oldest just became an officer like her father a month ago.” He moves to your side to pat you on the shoulder. You freeze under his touch and your wide pupils flicker between him and Jeon who took a newfound interest in you.
In any other instance, you would have been ecstatic to have your father compliment you. But right now, your brain had a hard time processing everything and you kept glancing at the stoic kid.
“This one yours?” The man smirks, eyeing you up and down in a disturbing way. You almost tasered him then and there. “She’s a bit noisy, isn’t she?”
Your dad laughs louder than before while you clench your fist.
“Relax, she’s just a kid – a whole rookie. She doesn’t know how all this works yet.”
You try not to grimace at his words. Here you were hoping he would have believed in you a bit more if you received a perfect score on the academy’s exam.
As his laughter dies down, your dad looks off to the side, just behind the giant man and raises his eyebrow. “And I take it this one’s yours?”
Jeon sighs, ruffling his hair with his calloused fingers. “Sadly. The kid’s a lost cause, ___. They can’t all be like your pretty little daughter. Every damn day hurting someone, busting balls, messing with the other kids…stealing. Just…you know after his mother left…”
He becomes mute suddenly. Staring at the ground in great concentration like he just got too emotional. Funny, you saw that look in another man last week. A man who lied about not murdering his wife. You tsk under your breath and look back at the kid, almost jumping out of your skin when you catch him staring right at you from where he sat. No more vulnerability in his young eyes. They were once again making the same hardened expression you saw when he first walked in here. Something felt very off.
Your attention flies back to the taller men when you feel your father shift towards the older Jeon.
“I understand.” He states sympathetically, placing a hand on his shoulder for comfort. “Take him home…”
It took you a second to snap out of your mute state.
“But dad, he-”
“Let them go, ___. This man here,” He signals at the guy, “He used to be one of the greatest and most respected officers of his time. Spent his best years serving. It’s the least he deserves. It’s alright.”
“No that’s not- Dad!” You begin flipping through your notebook, trying to show your father your notes, “Look at the kid’s fingers and arms! His face! He looks malnourished and some of those wounds look old- and- and this man’s obviously drunk and agressi-”
“___!” Your father shouts in rage, effectively shutting you up. “This is a command from your direct superior! They’re leaving.”
“But-”
At that moment he menacingly leans in, close enough to breathe in your ear.
“Don’t embarrass me further, child.” He whispers with pure venom.
And just like that, all the fight in you leaves. Your shoulders slump and head falls to the floor. There were tiny needles poking you everywhere and your face felt hot – ashamed. His words ring inside your head like a mantra and you want to just run away and hide.
All you did was disappoint him.
Your dad apologizes for you and the next thing you hear is the man grabbing the kid by the arm and you couldn’t help but physically wince at how much pain he would be in at the moment. He staggers out of earshot and you do nothing but look at the ground. How could you possibly face the kid now? After you told him you’d help him.
Because of that you don’t notice anything. You don’t notice the fact that your handkerchief was no longer on the floor. Nor do you notice the kid’s eyes which stayed on you the whole time he was being dragged out of the building.
_
You sat there, speechless.
Jungkook tilted his head, softening his gaze at your shaken form.
“He looked at you the whole time after that. Only you…but you never noticed.”
You on the other hand couldn’t hear shit he was saying. All you could think about was that vague, really fucking vague memory you had of the moment he described. Your mind was everywhere, on your father, on his father, on that event that you ended up failing to recall somehow, at your conversation with the chief earlier.
“All he had on him was an old handkerchief.”
How does someone process this? How did you forget this? There were countless of cases you’ve dealt with before, so many unusual moments that you just began throwing them out of your head for your very own sanity. That was the truth, but would anyone believe you? Jeon Jungkook was from your old hometown. Jeon Jungkook was someone you almost booked before. Jeon Jungkook was not someone who could’ve been forgotten. You, no longer in control of your facial expression, glance over at the mirror in horror. Would the chief actually think you lied?
In the back of your mind, you knew the real reason you chose to leave all the memories of your past behind – suppress them down and drown them out. But that information wasn’t something you could reveal to anyone. Ever. The one thing you were told to do was not fall into his trap, yet here you are. Your mind was a mess, which meant there was no way you could have the advantage in this situation, and you were no longer fit to interrogate him. Desperate and anxious, you place your palm on your forehead like you were in deep thought. In reality, that was the signal. You wanted to escape this place.
Jungkook glares at the side of your face, getting angrier the more you ignore him. Today was supposed to be different, his one free day where he could finally get you to notice him. And there you sat, still not looking his way. Didn’t you know you didn’t need to worry about anyone else when he was right here?
“Doll.” He practically sneers but then simmers down and smiles when you finally turn back to him – all wide eyed.
“I wanted to thank you.” He continues, “Because that day changed me forever…”
You said nothing. Wondering why the men on the other side were taking so long. He took your silence as a chance to finish his story.
“I took my beating…took all of it and said nothing. Broke my rib and wrangled my neck but I said nothing. He was drunk, so I waited for him to tire himself out…waited till he passed out on that fucking couch. Then I strangled him…with that very piece of cloth you gave me.”
This has got to be some fucking nightmare.
“And it felt really good.” His voice slightly waivered, “To watch him turn red and struggle, to watch that bastard’s life leave his eyes while in return he saw me become his demise.” He stops rambling suddenly as if recalling where he was, “Within a span of 8 minutes…I became a criminal for killing the monster who tortured me every single day. I was a sinner. I hit rock bottom. And once you’re there, it takes a lot of blood, sweat and tears to climb back up to the top.”
As you heard him rant on, your mind started to drift off. For some reason, once you slowly start to remember that tethered kid, you felt something you haven’t felt for a while. Sympathy? Sadness? Or were you just reminiscing about who you were back then. The bright young woman who had a lot to offer the world. You shake your head, looking down at the table. That girl was dead, you chose to forget her and went along with whatever life threw at you.
Your father was right to criticize your soft heart and if he were alive today you were sure he wouldn’t be able to identify you. No longer were you that naïve child who stubbornly believed that there was good in this world – in its people. It didn’t matter to you the reasons why someone committed a crime – criminals were just labeled orange jumpsuits. Jungkook had met a completely different person back then, not you.
Then why did your chest ache this much?
“J…Jungkook…I…didn’t remember…”
“I know,” He states ensuringly, making you look back up at him, “You left your past behind, after all.”
Suddenly, all the color left your face. Your heart started beating faster and you broke out into a cold sweat. You faintly thought you heard a bang behind the mirror, but you didn’t care. For the first time since you got here, your whole attention was solely on Jungkook.
It made him so happy.
“W-what…”
“It hurt when you transferred, leaving a big hole in my already impoverished life. But I understood your reasons. How can someone stay after such an incident?”
He knows.
“H-H…How did you know…”
“Oh, I know everything about you, doll.” His sinister smirk reappeared as he relaxed back into his chair and you pursed your lips as you felt an oncoming panic attack.
He knows, he knows, he knows, he-
“I know your dad wanted a son. I know that it kills you inside to never get the respect you deserve no matter what you do and even the men who claim to respect you patronize you in subtly conditioned ways. I know what your favorite food is. I know how much you love whiskey. I know you’re wearing those red panties that I fucking love on you.” He takes a breath as you let out an involuntary gasp, “And I know it was an accident.”
The first tear fell down your cheek. Shock, anger, fear? None of it mattered anymore; it was useless to pretend. You knew he knew. It was over. He stared at you in pity, like seeing you cry made him hurt.
“How could he not want someone as beautiful as you, doll?” Jungkook whispers, as if he couldn’t believe it himself.
“I wanted…to be the best for him…I tried…” Your voice strains
“I know you did. I know. Which is why you had no choice…”
In an instant, it all comes crashing back.
-
You drove down the lane a bit too clumsily, as you took the long way home.
It was almost midnight and you were speeding past 80 on a two-way lane off a cliffside road, but you didn’t give a single fuck. Your smashed mind was preoccupied at the moment.
A whole year had gone by, but your dad still hadn’t given you an ounce of trust he had for the other officers. Your dad – the fucking police lieutenant. You told him – you warned him that the man was armed, but he still charged in blind, without back up. Almost got the rest of the family members killed by doing something so crazy and careless.
Then he blamed you for not following his lead when he came out.
The tears came out faster than you could wipe them. Growing up in that home was horror. Him being on the force somehow also made him a conservative, self-righteous douchebag. Berating you for the way you’d dress, the way you ate, the way you talked to the way you styled your hair. It made you sick.
You tried so desperately to win over your own father’s love and approval from such a young age and you had nothing to show for it. Deep down, you knew it was because he wanted a boy. A boy who could become a cop like him. And a part of you thought that maybe if you became a cop anyway – one as respected and admired as he was, then he would finally admit he was wrong. At the very least he could finally tell you how proud he was of you.
You went to such lengths to spend the year being the best damn officer your town had seen. 26 arrests, 1 successful drug raid, multiple successful testimonies and extensive gang knowledge. As a plus, you had become beloved in the community. That took the most effort – you had to look the prettiest even while overworking yourself with double shifts. Be traditional and confident but not an overbearing prude. And never let the ‘unnatural’ masculine traits your job gave you, overpower your ‘natural’ feminine ones. Sounds completely simple doesn’t it? Now everyone praised you right and left. It was record breaking; you were the shit.
Yet he still wouldn’t refer to you as detective.
It broke you apart. You were at the end of your wits. Out excelling every male peer in your force. But you had zero to show for it. Which means all your efforts were for nothing.
The pain in your chest got heavier by the minute which made you whimper. Tonight, you had drunk yourself silly but not enough to take away the ache. To help yourself along, you grabbed the half-empty bottle laying in the driver’s seat in a swift motion and popped it open. Your car entered the opposite lane without your knowledge.
You chugged down the last of the bitter liquor, smashing the bottle against the driver’s side window. The anger still remained as you wiped the remnants of alcohol away from your mouth. Your vision was hazy, and you felt so pathetic – dirty, disgusting, like you were rotting from the inside. All you ever wanted to do was earn your father’s acceptance, so much so that you lost sense of any individuality you had left in you.
For a second, everything was so still and quiet, that it felt like all would be okay. The night was dark but serene.
But that tranquility vanished the instant you witnessed two bright lights closing in on you.
It all happened too quickly. You immediately swerved to your right, a loud honking and the friction of tires blasting through your ears. Years of practice and one whole one of police chases makes your instincts faster than normal and you immediately apply the clutch as your foot floors the break and you grip the handle sturdy. Your car rotates haphazardly to the right, but you were able to come to a complete halt before your front engine crashed into a tree.
Yet it feels like you did just that as your body lunges forward and the sounds of a car smashing against shrubs pierces through your ears. You were thankful you had your seat-belt on so you didn’t go flying out the windshield, but all you could think about was the immense pressure against the front of your body. The whiplash left you in shock for a couple seconds.
“Fuck.” You breathe out in agony, bringing your arm up to your sprained shoulder.
As you gather yourself together, you finally remember your surroundings and your head whips to the opposite end of the road to where you finally spot the car you almost hit. In the disoriented dark, you really had to strain into the distance. The car hadn’t been as lucky as yours as it thrashed towards the cliff side of the road. Seemed like it was laid halfway out on the edge. A non-threatening, old compact SUV – most likely a family car. Possibly children present. You could hear them screaming.
Fuck.
You had to help them as quickly as you could. But the instant you tried stepping out, you saw the gleam of a bottle under the driver’s seat.
And just like that, your body fell limp. Because you were more sober now than you’ve ever been in any moment of your life, you barely remembered…you were drunk.
All of the pain in your body immediately changed into fear – your eyes became wide and your pores leaked sweat.
You were drinking.
If you get out to help them, they were bound to smell the alcohol. If they’re able to identify you…if the police are called-
Everything would end tonight. Your career would be over, your family’s name will be dragged through the mud publicly and your father-
Your father would never forgive you. He’d never speak to you again. You’d be disowned.
Don’t embarrass me further, child.
Don’t embarrass me further, c̴h̶i̵l̴d̶
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_
“NO!” You shout, covering your ears with your palm to drown out his scalding voice.
Jungkook finally stopped talking, watching you cave into yourself on the chair in front of him. He would’ve done something if his hands weren’t tied down to the table. You looked so fragile and pained, it reminded him of himself in those days. This was the very look you had on after your father whispered something to you all those years ago. As he thought, he was always right about you.
You both were the same.
“_-”
“Shut up!” You scream, clenching your eyes shut and trying to erase the image of the car from your mind. “Just shut the fuck up!”
“You had no choice, ___.” He continued, his voice softer than before, “You had to drive off.”
“No I…” You look back up at the man in front of you through hard blurry tears, trying not to choke on your words. “I didn’t mean it…I didn’t- I promise dad…I did- i-it was an accident…”
“___...I know. It was you father who broke your spirit. It was the world that crushed your soul. They drove you mad, doll. They made you a sinner.”
You say nothing as the tears continue to fall, getting lost inside his bottomless pools.
“You drove off and left the family there. But he didn’t.”
He?
“That kid you never noticed…the kid who would’ve done anything for you.”
His response further tethers you into confusion. You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding what he was trying to say.
“That kid who only looked at you. He was right behind you that night.”
You feel a shiver crawl up your spine.
_
The kid was only slightly older and less miserable that night.
He was involved with every bad name in that town, aka his late father’s acquaintances. They provided him a new shelter, transportation and a means to earn food, as long as he did their bidding. Crime was a lot more organized than he would have ever thought. It was a hard life, but he was learning to survive. Committing small acts here and there for big games. No longer was he some petty thief who stole in desperation, he was a kid with so much blood on his hands that he couldn’t even stand looking at them
There were nights where he would have these dreams about ruling over an empire, of being feared and respected and every time he took a life, those dreams seemed closer to his bloody grasp. Although he hated taking orders, he became obedient to the never-ending pain. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to move up the ladder, but it would be a while till he could see a light.
Throughout this struggling livelihood, he did have one small, precious source of sun in his life. You.
Anytime he could, he would come watch you. Sometimes just small glimpses to get him through the day. Watching you on a stake out, prance around town, or just lounge about in your room. It was the most dangerous thing he did since you were a cop. Every time he went to you, he risked everything, but he was extra careful. There were times where he almost got caught, like the time he was masturbating in your bushes as you walked around with a towel on – don’t look so disgusted, he was just a dumb kid – but thankfully you never did find him. On the contrary, you helped him build all the stealth he’d need for his future.
In some ways, he thought of you as the better half of him. A person whose existence was nothing but a cause for regret, yet you didn’t let that corrupt you, unlike him. You were better than him – righteous and kind. Deep down inside, you were who he wanted to be.
Now that he was free of that monster’s grasp, he would imagine walking up to you as a free kid man. Wondering if you would remember him. He didn’t know what he would say, if there was anything at all he could have told you. It was a yearning he didn’t understand, he was just too young and unsettled.
The kid was content with watching you from far away because he knew he wasn’t worthy of you. It still didn’t stop him from being utterly in love with the thought of you alone.
That night he saw you leave the station. He observed you outside the bar’s window getting wasted. There was a strange feeling he had that night as you left a drunk mess, stumbling towards your 2012 Hyundai Accent and rushing out of the parking lot. The kid would soon learn to always trust his instincts.
He was driving right behind you, making sure he kept his distance. You were one hell of an officer, no doubt. Nevertheless, you were too out of it that night to tell anyone was tailing you. It all happened too quickly. The clumsy driving, the crash, and the aftermath. His heart almost jumped out of his chest when he saw you skid, pressing his own break as hard as he could. But you were able to stop before you crashed into anything, much to his relief.
The kid was trying to think about what he could do. You weren’t too hurt, were you? Should he come out and help you? He didn’t even care about the other car, just observing you in the far distance. As he continued to think, he decided he would come out and see if there was any way he could help you.
And as soon as he clicked his door open, he watched you do something he never would have imagined.
He saw you drive off.
It took a minute to realize what just happened. And the kid had always been observant, so he knew exactly what you were thinking. For the first time that night, he looked over at the other car.
These people could destroy you. Everything you have worked so hard for. He knew exactly why you had to leave. But he couldn’t do something like that. The kid had to help you, just like you did for him at one point.
So, he did the only thing he knew how. He drove up to the edge where their car hanged halfway. There were people yelling from inside, he could hear children. The car began blaring their horn as soon as they saw him drive up.
He drove up really close, close enough that his bumper banged against theirs.
_
Your mind was a blank state.
“He pushed them off.” Jungkook finishes off calmly.
You let out the breath you were holding, your bottom lip quivering softly. “Is…is that why-”
“Yeah. That’s why when you came back a minute later…they were gone.”
They were gone. Everything was as clear as day. You remember driving off, rushing even harder than before as you cried your heart out. It was such a stupid and rash decision – so fucking stupid. Half a minute later, you stepped on the break once again. As your car came to a halt, all you could hear were your sobs and the immobile engine. Your body hurt, everything hurt so, so, so much.
Was it worth it? Is gaining your father’s love worth killing someone over? Slowly, you glanced at the rear view mirror. Looking at the girl with swollen eyes. She wasn’t someone you recognized. The promise to serve and protect rings in your ears. All you were in this moment, was a hypocrite. You didn’t deserve anyone’s praise if this was your reality, you didn’t deserve anyone’s pity.
It was really dark out, and you found the slightest comfort in the world’s shadow. You bit your bottom lip, trying to stop your tears. It didn’t work – it was useless. All worth nothing.
Which is why you screamed out on the top of your lungs, banged your fists against the wheel before turning your car back around.
No matter what happens…you had to save them.
And you tried to. Within a minute, you were back where you before. But once you got there, that one place you’d never forget – those shrubs, the cliff, that road – they were gone. You got out, looking around, hoping that the family survived. The cliff itself was too high and the night was too dark to see below. Pulling at the strands of your hair, screaming out ‘hello?’, you appeared mad.
Till this day you don’t know if it was your gut instinct or an entity bigger than you that gave you a sign, if not the newspaper a few days later, you just knew they were dead. You fell to your knees – a broken woman. Not having any idea of those dark eyes that cried along with you that damned night.
Not until now.
Jungkook was the one who killed them, but how much does that change, really? It was still you who drove off, still you who left them in his hands. You were so deep in thought that you didn’t hear the sound of the interrogation room’s door cranking open. The man opposite you kept his eyes unflinchingly on you, waiting for this all to come to an end.
The last thing you felt was something heavy against the back of your head before you fell unconscious.
“Shit- that was so hard you bastard, I told you to use the chloroform shit.” Jungkook shouts at the man holding the gun’s handle.
“I couldn’t fucking find it, I told you that at the house, kid. Besides, she’s a big girl, she’ll be fine.” The man puts the barrel back in his holster before ripping his badge off his belt and throwing it aside.
“Shut the fuck up and uncuff me, Jimin.”
The blonde sighs, grabbing his keys from his back pocket.
“Tells me to infiltrate a police department, forces me to befriend and stalk some random cop girl, makes me hang out with those pigs. Fucking prick.” Jimin murmurs under his breath as he paces over and unlocks the shackles on said prick.
Jungkook winces, grabbing his wrist and twisting it around to get some circulation going. Then he stretches his neck before standing up and dusting his pants. Fuck, this chair was uncomfortable. He points at some fresh blood staining the elder’s chin, prompting him to wipe it off.
“So, what’s the situation outside?”
“Me and Kane took care of all of them. We took our time with Hyun, like you wanted. Now Kane’s waiting in the van for us.”
“Good.” Jungkook nods, looks like everything went according to plan. He glances over at your limp form and walks up to where you sat insentient. With a huff, he got on his knees so he could see your face up close, like he’s always wanted to.
“I can’t believe this day is here.”
Jimin looks between you both. “What are you gonna do with her?”
The younger cups your cheek. “You know I was ecstatic that night. I was…fuck, I never thought you could be with me. But that night, you proved that you were meant to be mine. And I waited so long for this moment. This moment where I could introduce myself to you as your equal. It’s why I was out on that mill this morning, detective. I wanted to meet you so much that it hurt.”
…That wasn’t an answer to his question but Jimin knew not to further bother his boss. There probably was a lot he had planned for you, but he wasn’t going to say it. No one ever really knew what this kid was thinking, anyway. He was a cryptic bastard.
Jungkook turns towards Jimin and extends his free hand out to him. Without being asked, Jimin reaches into his front pocket and pulls out the old handkerchief. His boss usually didn’t go this long without holding it. He places it into the younger’s hand without a word.
Turning back around, Jungkook places the cloth right underneath your shut eyes. He gently wipes away the tears leaking out.
“No one will ever hurt us again, doll.” Jungkook whispers before standing back up.
He places the handkerchief back in his own pocket and moves in to pick you up bridal style. Safely tucking you in his arms.
“Lead the way.” He orders Jimin who nods before opening the door of interrogation room 4.
___
This is absolute trash :))) I hope ya’ll enjoy tho. Lemme know what you thought, srsly because this fic stepped out of a certain comfort zone for me. I am absolutely open to part 2 if ya’ll want. if there is something you’re curious about, ask away.
#yandere bts#yandere jungkook#bts angst#jungkook angst#jungkook x reader#bts x reader#bts#jungkook#R:SIN
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'Till Death Do Us Part
Part 4 out of 13
When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.
A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.
On AO3.
Ships: Jamilton
Warnings: brief mentions of death
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 4: Cornflowers Means ‘Delicacy’
Thomas felt as if he’d gotten Martha’s blessing to pursue Alex. He had wanted to before, but he’d felt guilty towards her, so instead he had riled the other up and argued with him.
But now…
With their tentative friendship evolving every day, the sudden email reminding him to keep living seemed like a sign. Maybe that was stupid, but Thomas was going to cling to it. Though he had to figure out how to work up the courage to flirt first.
He was absolutely hopeless at the whole thing. He’d started bribing Alex with food, making sure the other ate lunch everyday as a way in.
It was a slow process, but yesterday Alex had shown up at his office with a bag with two bagels in it when Thomas had gotten lost in his work and forgotten the time. He’d shrugged: “Seemed only fair to chip in myself for a change.”
Instead of using it as a way to thank him or something, Thomas had made a joke about Alex finally stopping with mooching off him, which had only earned him a small shove, before they had started an argument about the usefulness of the hole in the middle of a bagel.
Thomas was close to ripping his hair out in frustration.
Martha had flirted with him, he had never done this. He had no clue what he should be doing and James was absolutely no help. When he had asked him the man had simply said: “Too aroace, Tom.”
So now he was going to the one other person who could help him with this, but by God did he dread it.
“Hi, Thomas, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Hello, Angie,” he replied, holding up a bottle of red wine, “Can I embarrass myself again and have you tell me I’m stupid before helping me?”
Angelica grinned: “With love. Here, come in.”
Thomas came in and dropped the wine on the kitchen counter of her apartment, before throwing himself on the couch with a groan. That earned him an eyeroll from Angelica, who poured them both a glass of wine, before pushing his legs of the couch and sitting down.
“Pizza and a romcom?” she asked, phone already in hand.
“Yeah, let’s be fully trashy,” Thomas agreed.
“You love trashy.”
“I truly do.”
Angelica ordered the pizza and waited for Thomas to leave behind the shelter of a pillow. He finally did and took a large gulp of his wine, before he said: “I don’t know how to flirt.”
“What?” out of all the things, Angelica had not seen that coming, but the realization hit her: “Oh my God are you trying to shoot your shot with Alex?”
“Maybe?” his voice was unsure and small and Angelica was living.
“Are you for real?” she exclaimed, “Tell me everything! Leave out no details. Holy fuck, this is great.”
“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said miserably.
“You can’t just ask me about advise to flirt with a guy, whom you’ve been crushing on for years while claiming you were never going to go after it and expect me to not get excited about it, Thomas. I mean come on, what changed?”
“I mean, me and Alex are kind of friends now and then-” he hesitated, unsure if he wanted to tell Angelica about the email from Martha, “then I got a reminder- it’s a long story.”
“Tell me,” Angelica demanded.
“You remember Alex brought Philip with him to work?” Thomas began.
“Yeah, that was four months ago, though.”
“Well, me and Alex talked and I told him about Martha, because Philip had told me about John, remember that?” he asked.
Angelica nodded.
“He called me,” Thomas went on, “It was John’s birthday and he was struggling and I had told him he could always talk to me and stuff, so he did. We bought Philip a Halloween costume and then we went to John’s grave so that he could show it to him.”
“Oh shit,” Angelica took a big gulp of her wine, “That’s a lot heavier than I was expecting, sorry. I didn’t know that part, he told us he handled John’s birthday well.”
“I mean, he did, sort off,” Thomas said, “Don’t let him know you know, I don’t know if he wanted me to tell you. But in the end it was a good day.”
“John loved Halloween.”
“Thought so, Alex mentioned Philip getting excited about his costume,” Thomas told her.
Angelica cringed in sympathy.
“Anyway, we spend John’s birthday together and after that it was different in the office and stuff and I brought him lunch-”
“You brought him lunch!”
“He had forgotten, what was I supposed to do? Was that weird?” Thomas sounded scared, Alex hadn’t seem to mind and he did it after. WouldAlex be mad at him?
“No, no, not bad,” Angelica quickly assured him, “Just sweet.”
“Then why did you react like that?” Thomas hissed, stress outing itself.
“Because I haven’t seen Alex eat in break room since forever,” Angelica replied, “He deflects every time I asked, we were already planning an intervention or something.”
“Oh,” Thomas didn’t know what to say to that, “Well, you don’t, he’s been eating fine.”
“Thank God for that, Eliza can be scary.”
Thomas huffed out a laugh at that, before proceeding: “So, I brought him lunch and he thanked me and said that I could call him if needed too.”
“How precious.”
“So I did,” Thomas decided that after sharing about John’s birthday to Angelica it would only be fair to tell her about himself as well, “Because Martha had send me an email – it was a site thing, send emails to the future and stuff – and, well, that was an unexpected punch to the gut.”
“Are you okay, Tommy?” Angelica’s brows were concerned, “I didn’t hear you about it.”
“It’s fine, Angie,” he assured her, “Me and Alex watched movies all day and just reminisced about her, it was nice. But in the email, Martha told me to move on from her.”
“She knows you too well,” Angelica smiled softly, she had known Martha herself and had seen first hand how devastated Thomas was after her death.
“Yeah, so that’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past few months, but I. Can’t. Flirt,” he fell back dramatically once more.
“God, you’re hopeless,” Angelica said, “Luckily I am here to save you, I am the best wingwoman known to man.”
“I hope you’re right, because being friends with Alex is killing me. Do you know how cute that motherfucker can be?” Thomas told her, “He has these big ass smiles and these little giggles and they are designed to kill me.”
Angelica smiled fondly, slight hurt in her eyes as a different person with the same complaints flashed in front of her eyes.
The bell rang and Angelica quickly got their pizzas before she sat down to form a game plan, which she privately named ‘Plan Jamilton’.
“Okay, so first up, what is a regular day with Alex like? So an office day, but then I don’t have to hear about your boring meetings unless Alex is involved,” she asked.
“I get in, he’s usually in the break room getting coffee, we talk – well, argue, but not mean – about whatever, we work, we eat lunch, then work some more, then I tell him to home if it’s not Tuesday or Friday, because he goes home earlier on those day, because he has to get Philip from school,” Thomas listed, then shrugged: “Meetings are still the same.”
“Huh, is that why I couldn't find him last Tuesday?”
“Yeah, normally Philip gets picked up by one of his Aunts or Un- you know that, sorry,” Thomas cut himself off.
“I know the others pick Philip up from time to time and that Alex hires a babysitter, I didn’t know there was a pattern,” Angelica confessed, “I’m more the fun Aunt that shows up from time to time with presents, Eliza is more the overly involved Aunt, but that’s fair since Philip was in her for nine months.”
“Touche.”
“Anyways, you and Alex seem to talk a few times during the day. Morning and lunch and before he goes home, all good opportunities,” she suggested.
“I’m aware, but then I’d have to know what to say, don’t I, Angie,” Thomas pointed out.
“Alex is a natural flirter, give him a push and he’ll do most of the work.”
“But then what do I do? How do I react to him flirting? That’ll be bad for my soul,” Thomas whined.
“Think of it like banter, you two do it all the time,” Angelica rolled her eyes, “Just maybe make it a bit more suggestive here and there, add innuendos. I think you can manage that.”
“And what if Alex thinks it’s weird or if he’s just doing it because he’s flirty?” Thomas worried, “I mean, you said it yourself that he’s naturally flirty, what if he doesn’t think anything of it and then I am the weird one and he hates me.”
“He’s not going to hate you, you idiot,” Angelica rolled her eyes, “He likes you.”
“What? How do you know that?” Thomas needed answers and he needed them now.
“Technically, I don’t, but-”
“Then you have no ground to stand on and I shouldn’t risk it.”
“Let me talk, Thomas Jefferson,” the full name shut him up, “As I wanted to say: Technically, I don’t know for sure if he likes you, but he has stopped complaining about you and last week he said you might have shit ideas on company policy, but you had great taste in classical writers. He loves classical writers. That’s huge for him.”
“That’s hardly anything, Angie.”
“And Laf asked me what was up between you two,” Angelica played her ace.
“Laf thinks there is something up between us two?” Thomas took the bait as predicted, hopeful puppy eyes that shouldn’t be adorable on a 6’3, grown man.
“Yeah, he said – and I quote – Hm, did you notice anything off between mon petit lionand our dear Thomas, those two seems to be getting closer,non?”
“Your French accent is horrible.”
“Not the focus, Tommy. The focus is that he wiggled his brows about it.”
“He wiggled his brows?”
“Yes, he only does that if he is super certain of his observations or if he knows something. I’m still figuring out which one it is,” Angelica informed him.
“So maybe Alex said something to him?” Thomas suggested.
“Maybe, but you’d have to ask him.”
“I’m not going to ask him.”
“Why not?”
“Because he is a nosy Frenchman, who doesn’t know when to stop meddling and he’ll embarrass me in front of Alex, I’m sure of it,” Thomas whined.
“He’s not that bad, Thomas. Get over yourself,” Angelica told him, taking a bite out of her pizza slice.
“No, one time I told him I was considering celebrating my birthday and he threw me a huge surprise party – granted, it was sweet of him, but also no, not for me – with like a live band and stuff. It was way too much.”
“Okay, so maybe not ask Laf directly,” Angelica conceded.
Thomas eyes suddenly lit up with inspiration and he exclaimed: “You could ask him!”
“No!” Angelica protested immediately.
“Why not?” Thomas was pleading now, “For me.”
“Because then he’ll know for suresomething is up and talk to either you or Alex and then your whole plan will still be ruined,” Angelica explained, “You just need to trust me and flirt with Alex. I swear it will be fine.”
“But what if it isn’t?”
“Then I’ll get you ice cream and chew out Alex,” she promised.
“I hate it when you make a point,” Thomas complained.
“And I hate eating without playing a movie, we both make sacrifices,” Angelica rolled her eyes, completely unimpressed as she took another bite of her pizza, almost as if to make a point.
In the end they did watch a movie. It was a shitty romcom, as promised, and every time someone flirted Angelica rated it and advised for or against the method. Thomas wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle or hug her.
He still didn’t say anything for almost a week and a half, until he found himself in the printer room with Alex.
“Honestly, Thomas, you can’t possibly think that saying a cloud and rain are the same makes any sense,” Alex rolled his eyes, pushing some buttons on the printer.
“No, just think about it, okay? Clouds are water, rain is also water, correct?” Alex grudgingly agreed, “A cloud is basically water floating around until it gets cold and falls, so therefore rain is basically just a cloud falling.”
Alex paused, processing his words, before he said: “Oh my God, shut up.”
“Make me,” Thomas had been so caught up about winning their argument that he hadn’t even thought before letting the slightly suggestive words slip out.
Now they both paused. Thomas looked shocked at his own words and Alex studied him curiously, his eyes scanning him up and down, before he smirked and asked: “Is that a threat or a promise, Tommy? Because you really shouldn’t say things you can’t deliver on.”
Then he grabbed his papers and left Thomas gaping like a fish on dry land as he tried to process the entire interaction.
Alex was internally panicking as he hightailed out of the room, hoping to leave Thomas before the man had gathered his wits again. Sure, Thomas might have started it, but Alex had taken it a level further.
He’d wanted to flirt with Thomas, but they only just started to be friendly. Well, maybe not just, but it wasn’t as if they had stopped being rivals that long ago.
It was just…
It was just that Philip had really liked Thomas, he was still sometimes asking about how Mr. Thomas was doing. And the man had done so much for him on John’s birthday. And he had looked so vulnerable with the email and Alex had never seen that side of him and his stupid crush was developing at an alarming rate. And he didn’t want to acknowledge it or make it real, but…
Butnow he might have made it weird.
Fuck, what was he going to do? Oh, wait, Eliza was picking up Philip today – normally he would do it, but school ended early that day so Eliza had offered – and it was after lunch, so he wouldn’t see Thomas today and he could talk to her and have a plan tomorrow.
With that in mind, he tried to forget about the whole incident and work till the end of the day, losing himself in his work and hoping he wouldn’t run into Thomas.
He left at five on the dot and at half past five he was knocking on Eliza’s door. She opened, but before she could say anything he blurted out: “I flirted with Thomas today. I think he started it, but now I’m thinking it might have been me.”
She blinked, then blinked again, before she pulled him into the house: “Tell me everything. Is this the great Mr. Thomas Philip was telling me about? The one you’ve been crushing on and didn’t tell me and I had to hear about from Herc?”
“Maybe?” he squeaked.
He and Philip ended up eating dinner with her and Maria and afterwards Maria watched a movie with Philip, sending them a knowing look that made Alex blush.
Alex had known Eliza since Freshman year in college. He and her had hit it off right away, even dated for a while, but then John had taken a break from the army to study and- well, they just found they were only dating to prove something to themselves.
The point was Alex told Eliza everything. She’d been the first to know he fancied John, had helped him pick an outfit for their first date, had been there for ring shopping and wedding planning. She had carried Philip for nine months for Pete’s sake.
Yet he had hesitated with telling her about Thomas.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but if he told her it would be real, because telling her made it real and he was scared of this being real.
But now it was going to be real.
It was going to be real because Thomas had said something slightly suggestive and Alex had taken that as a sign to blatantly flirt with the man. It was going to be real, because he was going to tell Eliza.
Fuck.
He started up slowly, hesitating about certain parts, what to say and what not, but in the end the words started to flow out of him like they always did.
Alex told Eliza about how he’d thought Thomas was attractive, but had pushed that down with the personality, but then he’d been nice to Philip and that had stirred something inside him again. He told her about John’s birthday, the endless jokey lunch discussions, Martha’s email, how he the feelings had been building up until he had blurted out his comment that day.
All throughout Eliza just listened and nodded along until his word vomit session was over and he just sat there and breathed.
“It sounds to me,” she began carefully, “like you really like Thomas and that he is a good influence on you. And if I understood correctly, he has proven himself to be willingly involved with Pip. He sounds like a catch, ‘Lexi.”
“He is,” Alex sighed with a smile, then slightly sadder he added, “I just don’t know what to do. I might have scared him off today.”
“Come on, don’t be so deprecating. I knew you in college, you can woo him,” Eliza encouraged him teasingly.
“Wow, thanks, ‘Liza,” he huffed.
“I’m serious, ‘Lexi. You can flirt and you know it, you’re a charmer if you want to be, when you’re not, you know, forcing people to have opinions they need to defend,” she said, “Though, Thomas already knows that, since-” she gestured vaguely, “since you two do that.”
Alex laughed at that, before he turned more serious: “What if I fuck this up, Betsy? What if I do something wrong? What if Pip gets hurt by this? I don’t know how I’d live with myself if this hurts him.”
He only called her Betsy if he was really worried about something.
“Hey, Alexander, look at me,” if he was calling her Betsy, she was pulling out full names, “You’re not going to fuck this up, you just need to be patient for a moment.”
“Have you been hanging around Burr?” Alex groaned.
Eliza rolled her eyes at him: “No and just because you don’t agree with someone doesn’t mean they can’t have a point.”
“He should have points, ‘Liza, that’s the entire point,” Alex told her.
“I am not having this discussion with you right now, we were focusing on something else,” she knew deflection when she saw it, “We were talking about Thomas and you wooing him.”
“What? Do you have a battle plan or something?”
“Of course I have.”
“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?”
“You could stand to mention it more,” she smiled, “Now, you are flirty, which is great everyone will say that you are. He knows Laf, he’ll ask if he’s curious and Laf is how we keep tabs on him. Trust me, he will come talking if Thomas ever asks him anything like that.”
Alex laughed: “Remember when Herc said he had a date and Laf showed up at the restaurant in a disguise to check on her, because she had ‘weird vibes’?”
Eliza snorted and nodded at the memory, before moving on: “So we have a route of communication, sort of, to tell how the flirting is received. If it’s good, you can ask him out. If not, well, I have ice cream and a shoulder to cry on.”
“Betsy, you are the best of women, honestly. If you weren’t so gay, I’d marry you,” he told her with a grin.
“Like I said, you’re a charmer,” she ruffled his hair, before ushering him and Philip – who had been elated about the later bedtime – out the door while reminding him to tell her everything from now on.
He left with that promise to her and a lighter heart.
The next day started like any other, with Thomas finding Alex in the break room like nothing had happened. For a moment Thomas worried the other was going to pretend that nothing had been said, crumbling his resolve to start flirting today.
“Hi, Alex,” he decided on his normal greeting, just to test the room.
Alex turned and smiled – it was that stupid bright smile that did things to Thomas – then said: “Hi, you’re looking good today? New pants?”
They weren’t new and Thomas knew that Alex knew that, because it was an outfit he’d worn many times. The comment eased some of his anxiety about this as he replied: “No, but glad you’re finally appreciating my impeccable sense of style.”
The eyeroll Alex gave him couldn't have been stopped even if he tried, so he just winked: “Nah, you still dress overly colored. Maybe I can help you find a better sense of style. Those pants would have to come off for that, though.”
Then he sashayed away like he hadn’t left Thomas blushing, pouring coffee over his hand because he wasn’t paying attention to the coffeepot.
And for the next few daysit continued like this. Their arguments that had turned into banter had now turned into flirting.
They were dancing around each other like teenagers afraid to be rejected for prom and the whole office had probably caught onto it. Alex was sure of that with all the looks knowing they were getting.
This was confirmed when Washington made him stay after a meeting in which some flirty comments had slipped into their debate, he raised a brow at Alex and asked: “What happened to the ‘nothing like that, sir’?”
Alex blushed heavily and squeaked: “Back then it wasn’t.”
“So it is like that now?”
“Sir,” it was a whine and Alex would deny it later.
“Alex,” Washington just replied, completely nonplussed.
“Ugh,” Alex groaned, this softly said: “Maybe? Not yet. I don’t know.”
“Well, Thomas is a good man, be kind to him,” Washington told him, a slight warning in his tone, before he got protective, “And be careful with yourself too, son.”
“I’m not-” Alex cut off the standard reply, because it was really not true at this point, so instead he nodded: “I will, thank you, sir.”
Washington send him away with some paperwork and an order not to stay late again and Alex promised he wouldn’t, because he was picking up Philip today and he had promised the kid they could go to a park after school.
Philip was so excited to see him and Alex pushed him on a swing and caught him when he wanted to jump off.
During dinner Philip asked: “How is Mr. Thomas? He was nice, why doesn’t he come around again? He came that one time and you are friends now, right? Why doesn’t he come around like Uncle Herc and Uncle Laf do?”
“It’s a bit complicated, Pip,” Alex said after a moment, “Me and Thomas are friends, but it just never flowed like that.”
“You always says I can change my own path, why can’t you?” God, sometimes Pip was too smart for his own good.
“I’ll see if he wants to come to movie night with your Uncles and Aunties. Does that sound fun?” he might regret this, but the look on Pip’s face was worth it.
He didn’t approach Thomas directly, with all the flirting he didn’t want it to come across as asking for a date. If he was going to ask Thomas, he was going to ask it better than that. Instead he approached Angelica: “Hey, Angie, can I ask you something?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“For movie night, I, uhm, well, I wanted to ask Thomas to come, but that’s weird, because it would be me asking, so I wanted to ask if you could invite him to come along?” Alex hoped she would say yes.
Angelica smiled pleasantly and Alex dreaded her answer: “Why is it weird when you do it?”
“Come on, Angie,” Alex whined, “I’m sure you and Eliza gossip about me. You know what this is about. If I ask him out, I’ll do it differently than a group movie night, because Pip wanted to see him again.”
“You’re gonna ask him out?” Angelica asked excitedly.
Alex cursed his stupid mouth and said: “Maybe. It’s still new and stuff, but eventually, yeah, it’s the plan at least. Don’t tell him though, please.”
Angelica cooed: “You are too cute. I won’t tell, don’t worry.”
“Will you ask him?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you,” maybe there was a bit too much force in the words, but Alex didn’t care.
That Friday Alex was more anxious about movie night than he had any right to be. It was usually hosted at his house so that he could put Pip to bed on time, before they watched non-kid movies, though everyone had a soft spot for the animated movies.
He had checked everything over multiple times and the only thing distracting him was Philip’s latest car parkour.
Herc arrived first, sweeping his nephew into his arms and being a calming enough presence that Alex had relaxed by the time Eliza and Maria along with Peggy showed up.
Then Angelica arrived with Thomas in tow. He greeted Alex awkwardly: “Sorry, is this okay? Angie said it was, but I don’t want to intrude.”
Luckily Alex didn’t have to answer, because Philip came running: “Mr. Thomas! Mr. Thomas, I have started keeping my drawings in this book and it’s already pretty full, do you want to see? We’re going to watch Mulantonight? Have you seen Mulanbefore? Did you like it?”
Thomas smiled: “Hey, kiddo, how about one question at a time? I’d love to see your drawings.”
Philip cheered and dragged Thomas away, who send Alex an apologetic look, though Alex didn’t mind having the pressure of him. He was distracted by Angelica: “That went well.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, you dork, it’s going fine,” Angelica assured him, “Now, I want something to drink. Do you have popcorn?”
Lafayette arrived last. By the time he came knocking they had all the snacks set out and the movie was waiting. He bustled in: “Bonjour, Bonjour, sorry I’m late. There was traffic and I was sleeping.”
“Uncle Laf!” Philip was off the couch and at Laf’s side in seconds, these nights would always make him excited enough that he dropped off early.
“Ah, mon petit neveu, how are you?” Laf hugged him tightly.
Philip babbled excitedly: “I’m going to become an artist. I showed Mr. Thomas my drawing book and he says they’re really good and my teacher says so as well.”
“Mr. Thomas?” Laf asked, he hadn’t been around often lately with his job keeping him busy and traveling. He had seen something was up, but he hadn’t gotten the note that the two were doing something about it and he hadn’t heard Philip about it yet either.
From the couch Thomas spoke up: “Hi, Lafayette. How was your week? Heard they needed you back in Paris?”
“Thomas! What une surprise!” Laf said and they had a conversation, which was more an interrogation how he’d ended up here. Alex saved Thomas by telling the nosy Frenchman that they were worked together on his financial plan and Thomas was not so bad ‘yes, Laf just like you said, I know.’
Movie night went great, they watched Mulan first and Philip kept asking Thomas questions throughout the entire movie, which Thomas answered dutifully. This amused the other adults greatly.
By the end the excitement had died down and Philip was nodding off. Alex left Eliza in charge of refilling the snacks, while he got Pip ready for bed.
When he got back the only spot left was right next to Thomas, he suppressed an eyeroll at his friends antics and sat down, knowing Laf would be all over this when the night was over. But for now he didn’t care.
He and Thomas had watched movies together before, albeit under different circumstances, but it was nothing new. Though he had forgotten how warm Thomas was and – now that he thought about it – he was kind of tired.
Slowly he slid sidewards throughout their viewing of The Patriotuntil he was leaning on Thomas’s shoulder, fighting to keep his eyes open. In the distance he felt something shift and the he slid further, a warm arm resting over him before he drifted off completely.
When he awoke it was dark and he was tucked in on the couch, cold and alone.
He sat up in confusion until his eye fell on a note in a familiar cursive handwriting that was too pretty to belong to someone in this century. It read: You fell asleep. We thought it better to let you be. Thanks for inviting me, I had fun. Sleep tight. x, T.
And honestly that little ‘x’ shouldn’t have made Alex blush. He looked up to a picture of John and whispered: “My dear Laurens, I think I’ve fallen in too deep already.”
The picture didn’t reply, instead John’s smiling face stayed static, but Alex still found it comforting to have John looking at him with something akin to encouragement. John would want him to be happy, he had always tried to do what he thought to be best for Alex, for Pip.
“You’re right, Jacky, I shouldn’t be dancing around this,” he said, “It’s just hard. And I’m scared,” he huffed a laugh, “Isn’t that ironic? After everything I’ve been through the great Alexander Hamilton is scared of asking someone on a date.”
He paused for a moment then said: “Don’t look at me like that, you asked me on our first date, you rash motherfucker. Don’t think I’ve forgotten you springing it on me when I was almost collapsing after finishing a paper. I got you with marriage, though, so even-Steven.”
It was comforting to talk to a picture of John, it was different when talking to his grave, less heavy when not surrounded by stones. Was it probably slightly strange? Yes. But Alex had been strange his entire life.
“Maybe I should be a bit rash for once, pick up your slack,” he told John, ignoring that his friends always said that they were both too rash and it was bad for their health that the two of them got along so well, “I think I’m doing it.”
That weekend he made a plan, had to double check something with Philip and worry-rant at Eliza, she was a great listener, he truly loved her.
Then Monday morning it was time, God he was nervous as he waited at Thomas’s office, where the man usually dropped his stuff before starting his day.
“Hey, uhm, this might be weird, but Pip told me about the vase in your office and if I remember correctly it was empty Friday, so I got you these,” Alex held up a bouquet of purple flowers, “It’s- they’re cornflowers, I hope I remembered correctly.”
Thomas took them, a bit stunned, his eyes slightly sparkling.
“I looked up their meaning. They mean ‘delicacy’, but also ‘be gentle with me’ and I thought that very fitting, because you’re – this is sound weird – but you’re very cute in an ‘I want to protect you’-way,” Alex was stumbling over his words, “But it’s also a request – the ‘be gentle with me’-part, I mean –because-” he swallowed and hesitated, “Well, you see, I- I was wondering if you- you would like to go on a- uhm, on a date. With me. This Friday. If you want. You don’t have to of course, maybe I’ve read this whole thing wrong and that’s fine, but if you do want to then I’ll be happy- more than happy, actually-”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I’d love to go on a date with you this Friday,” Thomas told him, blush coloring his cheeks and a bashful smile tugging on his lips.
Alex grinned the grin that did things to Thomas as he replied: “That’s- Yeah, great, I- uhm, I’ll text you details?”
“Yeah, okay. Then I’ll go put these in water. Thank you, Alex, they’re beautiful,” Thomas walked away, flowers in hand, planning to yell at Angelica through the phone.
Bit of a more lighthearted chapter after all the grief and angst lmao
Also, always lovely when I get to the part of ‘and now they flirt’ only to realize that I do not know how to flirt and I have no clue how to write it. Ooof. So shout out to time skips xp
Side note: this → “well, they just found they were only dating to prove something to themselves.” is not invalidating the fact that Alex is bi, just that Eliza wanted to prove to herself that she wasn’t a raging homosexual while Alex wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t in love with John.
Also I thought it was very funny that they thought to use Laf to keep track of the other, only for both to tell him absolutely nothing
#RR writing#tw: grief mention#Alexander Hamilton#Hamilton#Hamilton AU#Jamilton#thomas jefferson#angelica schuyler#eliza schuyler#Philip Hamilton#Lafayette#marquis de lafayette#george washington#'Till Death Do Us Part#'Till Death Do Us Part Part 4#'Till Death Do Us Part AU
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Sixty Nine.
I think it’s taken me at least two days to recover from such an event, I have been such a mess. I can personally say that I felt terrible but also it was a good night, I am just catching up on everything. Like I can Google search my name and I have headlines about my birthday, I mean some are clowning at me crying, but jealous niggas do that, and it is annoying me. I am just looking at Dennis’ page, he posted a few pictures of the event, it’s nice what he put about me, but I think I am going to just snap on jealous niggas because I can’t be dealing thinking they can clown me, jealous motherfuckers like her ex’s like why are you checking for me, I ain’t checking for you but you there writing lines about me on social media, it’s weak. I really haven’t had the chance to actually speak to Robyn properly and actually say to her what she has done for me, I am just recovering. I know for a fact I haven’t ever drank like that in my life, I am missing hours of my life that I don’t remember. Pressing record as I stared at myself in the in the camera “I look rough, I need a shave” clearing my throat looking up at Rajad walking into the kitchen “I just want to thank everyone for the birthday wishes, as you know I had a very good night. It’s late but I just want to say thank you to everyone, I seen the birthday wishes just now because I am of course just catching up, feel rough still” I sighed out “I just thought I would do a video instead of just typing it out, I don’t do social media beef. You got an issue we can deal with it personally, just like I did before. I seen niggas clowning me, but I don’t care, I cried because I appreciate what my wife did and y’all can call me a bitch nigga, but she went above and beyond and I love her, she is my other half. Niggas don’t know what love is and it shows but a certain nigga, I see you and I ain’t scared to beat ya ass again” stopping the video just before Robyn walked in, I pressed send to put it onto my IG story.
Robyn sniggered at me “are you with us now? I can’t believe how long you been in bed for, baby two whole days?!” locking my phone and placing it on the counter, moving away from the counter “wow, I was a mess Robyn. I don’t drink like that, I don’t. Weed and booze, it was just. It took me out but man, I am just catching up with everything” shuffling towards Robyn, pecking her lips before hugging her close “oh my god, I just feel like I have missed out so much for those days. Thank you for taking care of me too” squeezing Robyn close “love you” Robyn cooed out “it’s ok, I know you was unwell but I am glad you’re with us” moving back from the hug “I have so much to thank you for, after you left everything was a blur, I do remember when I was dancing with Drake actually but then I was out” sitting on top of the counter “I am glad you’re ok, to see you in such a happy place Chris, I love to see it. I am so glad that the party was great, people keep talking about it” nodding my head “you got me so good Robyn, just thinking about it now I am emotional again. All of your family too, like Mel and Noella buying me a personal plate, like what? That is crazy, I feel like I am celebrating my twenty first again, it’s wild. It’s made up for every birthday I missed, I can’t thank you enough. I appreciate you Robyn and I got a little something, I may have been dying in bed, but I been planning, my family are coming to the home” Robyn’ eyes widened “erm, the home is a mess Chris. You didn’t say the in laws are coming” shaking my head “don’t worry about it, just that I called, and I said for them to wait another day and to come here. I appreciate you so much” Robyn stood between my legs, wrapping my arms around her “I love you so much, man. I can’t even” placing my hands over her bump “you and my daughter” Robyn gasped “you! Actually, you been talking too much when drunk, Rajad knows now. Everyone actually knows” I cringed “I am sorry, I didn’t know” she is unhappy, let me quickly start massaging her shoulders.
I am here massaging Robyn’ shoulders trying to calm her ass down, just because I know for a fact Robyn is very mad with me, I didn’t do this shit on purpose, so she needs to understand this “I just want to spend time with you, my family are leaving tomorrow too. I just think we haven’t had us time so take me away somewhere” nodding my head “I got you” kissing the back of her head “I am glad we are not having a boy, Camron kept trying to touch his dick and I was like no sir. This boy just wanted to keep touching it so honestly I am glad it isn’t” I snorted laughing “that shit don’t stop, you know how much I play with mine” I really want a son now, I need one in my life to be just like me “I think they are here” the buzzer went off “I swear I feel a mess Chris, you could have told me” Robyn moved away from me, jumping off the counter and making my way to the door. Majesty is a pest, she is always running out of the living room, these crawling babies is not it “hey, little brat” jogging over to her, picking her up and making my way to the front door Unlocking the door, oh I didn’t open the gate. Going back inside, pushing the button to open the gate. Placing my feet in the slides “hey, hey. Young lady, stop the slapping” I chuckled, shuffling outside “we were waiting for so long” my mother poked her head around and walking over to me “aww my baby boy” walking over to them “hey mom, welcome to my home” hugging my mom “son, this is amazing. Oh wow, this is very Hollywood” my dad has his glasses on, so he is really going to check every part of the home, he is in-expecting the home.
My family are so amazed by the home, this is just outside “come in, come” Majesty wrapped her arms around my neck, she is so precious “I am shocked, like this home is amazing Chris. Now I know why you love it here so much” walking back inside, Robyn side eyed me “why are you annoyed with me? You’re so annoying” I laughed at her “shut up, hey my beautiful mother in law. Look at you! The tan, you been out in the sun” I am glad I caught Robyn off guard “the family is here” Rorrey came out of the office, he has been using it, I told him to try and make his own little something for himself for my clothing line, I am open to ideas “hi boss” Rorrey shook my dad’ hand “the family is here, you never said” everyone seems annoyed I never said, maybe they wanted to make a good entrance “sis, the only person that annoys me is Chris” Robyn said to Tootie “he didn’t say anything, I have not cooked a thing. I feel so bad, your first time here and I have done nothing” I grinned “Robyn, I know your pain. He is an ass” rolling my eyes, they all mad now.
These ladies are mad “like I know y’all are mad but come on, I come in peace and honestly when you hear why, you will all love me” Robyn mean mugged me “what it is, this is the first time my mother in law has come to the home so I wanted to make an good impression but instead she has come and I look a mess, the home is a mess, I have made no food for them. It’s their first time here Chris do you not get that” I laughed a little “I do but baby my mom doesn’t mind, you’re beautiful anyways but hear me out. It’s Mother’s Day coming up so I did something nice for you all, I have the SUV coming and he taking you to a spa, all of you. I hired it out for you ladies, I will take care of Majesty and Desean, this is y’all time to have just some peace and quiet and after I am paying for the meal at Robyn’ favourite place, this is on me. Mom, Tootie, Monica, Noella and Robyn. My beautiful mother to be, Happy Mother’s Day, now can we stop the hate train” they all look pleased “really baby, oh my god. That sounds so much fun” my mom said “yeah, y’all can bitch about me there but I hired the whole place, Robyn can get the wax she needs” I snorted laughing “shut up!” she spat, her coochie need it cause she ain’t doing it “Happy Mother’s Day ladies” I grinned, Monica cooed out “he is a good man, thank you Chris” I grinned feeling so proud of myself.
I am super proud of myself “I love you” feeling a pair of arms around my torso “oh now you saying it” turning around in Robyn’ arms “you know I do, I just like to impress my guests Chris that is all. But baby that is so sweet, so you did all of that while you was in bed and I was slaving away” nodding my head “I sorted it all out for you, I want you to relax ok?” pecking Robyn’ lips “thank you and you ass, talking about wax. I want you to do it for me, how about that?” I snorted laughing “I will, if you want me too? Not in a bad way, I thought you may want to, you know. Feel fresh” wrapping my arms around Robyn “mhmm I will let you off mister thoughtful, that is the sweetest. I get to spend time with both of the momma’s too, I think I need it after the stress of someone” I chuckled “I wonder who that is” I sniggered “also I may just tell them about the gender, it’s just silly now because you ruined that part. And then Rajad will end up letting it slip so yeah, I will just tell them, or we both can later?” nodding my head “yeah for sure we can, I am so sorry about that” I feel bad that I did it “I am so excited about it, I am really you know, I didn’t mean it in a bad way” Robyn sighed out “I know, this is why I am not that mad” she is the cutest.
Placing my arm around my nephew, he is loving it being at the house “how has school been anyways? You are being good there, you know my sister will tell me if you ain’t” the home is actually so much calmer without the women here, they are always causing some type of drama over nothing “I am being good, people want to be my friend now. I told mom because they didn’t want to talk to me, but they are now, mom said they are fake. Everyone is asking me to get an autograph form Rihanna and I said no and then the boy called me a fake nigga for it, and I can’t be your nephew” frowning “Desean don’t let nobody tell you different, fuck them. They are jealous because us as a family are ok, they are haters, and you remember that. Those people that want to be friends you now and didn’t before are fake, don’t let that shit happen to you. You know I got you when you want to talk” kids are nasty as hell “I know I am just concentrating on Football and keeping myself lowkey, it doesn’t really upset me because I am winning. Rihanna is amazing” I breathed out laughing “she is” I agreed with my nephew.
The ladies came back looking refreshed, we just finished eating, I bought the boys pizza. Robyn is glowing even more “you good?” Robyn placed her hand on my shoulder and leaned down “I want a word with you” I frowned instantly, what did I do “come, we will be back” Robyn walked off, what the hell even happen “Chris, thank you so much for that. I feel so refreshed” getting up from the chair nodding my head “it’s ok” following Robyn, I am raking my brain just thinking what have I done. We just went into the corner “I seen your little video on IG, why react Chris that is what he wants, and they want” I shrugged not caring “you just want me to accept it, I will knock his ass out again. I don’t care, laughing that I cried. I am just saying that what is wrong with me crying? Because I appreciate what you have done for me, he is a pussy ass nigga!” I spat “and I just think, I am not saying what you said is wrong but don’t let him or anyone get to you, ok? So what if you cried, you appreciate me” I sighed out “I do, but if he wants to start then we can you know” I shrugged, I don’t even care who says what but it’s him that I hate.
Seeing as I ruined the secret between her family, Robyn feels like she has to say it because it’s pretty much only her mother that doesn’t know in her side so we might as well say it “we have a little announcement, well I do anyways because Chris has a big mouth” placing my arm around Robyn laughing, I can’t even front it is my fault “you already married so what next? Twins?” My dad jokes “how you know?” I said “really!?” my dad spat “see, I got you there but yeah. Robyn got this because I been just ruining her little thing” I am going to let Robyn say her thing “yeah, I am not angry at him but I feel it is unfair, but can we just keep it in this room for now, if we can try. We all are a gossips aren’t we but yeah, so we. Chris and I, we found out the gender together” Robyn lied, I put my head down because I know I didn’t, I wasn’t there “and it’s very exciting because honestly I am over the moon, so is Chris with his big mouth. We are having a baby girl!” Robyn yelped out “granddaughter!?” my dad shouted, all my dad is doing is shouting shit “yes dad” I laughed, my dad shot up smiling “I am so happy for you, oh my god!” my dad is excited as hell “awww mom don’t cry” Robyn said, the family is so emotional.
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Charmed [Episode 5]
➰ ot7 x reader, poly!bts x reader, mafia!bts
➰ they wouldn’t notice her until she was standing above them, a smoking gun in her hand a bullet in their heart
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🛑 just y/n being a gutsy mf, mentions of death and suicide, dark humor
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The next month passed relatively calmly as you integrate yourself into the lives of 7 boys who wanted nothing to do with you. You seemed to clash with them on every topic, and you wondered if you would ever be able to live here without having to test the meal for any extra additives.
True, they couldn’t harm you, but there was a lot that could be done to a person without having them die as a result. The most you were fearful of was a kind of truth serum that you knew the boys had. In truth, you were sure that you weren’t supposed to find out about it until after they had successfully managed to use it on you but fate works in mysterious ways and you stumbled upon Jin making it in their sterile kitchen, isolating the benzodiazepines from bottles of Versed. It was their own blend, incorporating higher concentrations of midazolam than the legal dose.
You had never seen it in action, but you were also not willing to call their bluff so you remained on edge, watching everything you ate and touched that could have been handled by your worst enemies. It was an odd kind of life in that high-rise penthouse; isolated, yet not?
You had once thought that nothing could beat escaping the depression of your one-bedroom studio, but among the richest of the rich you could only feel more clearly the ice of the tile seeping into your bones. It was jarring and made your skin crawl with the lifeless feeling that the place gave you. It made you wonder if the high life was worth it to you. You were happier in that run-down noodle house with the cranky mother figure who glared at you every time you sat down at her counter. Still, she never meant it and served you your favorite without having to ask.
It seemed odd that the both of you had a connection, despite the limited conversation that passed between the two of you, there was a subliminal communication that was always accompanied by the spiced scent of bone broth.
It seemed however that whoever controlled the boys thought that the eight of you had had enough bonding time and it was time that they used you for their own dirty means. Namjoon got a call ordering all of you to BigHit headquarters promptly at lunch time. It made you roll your eyes at how particular Namjoon was about being on time.
You couldn’t help but snicker at little minnows trying to act like the sharks of the ocean. Everyone who had looked into BigHit knew that the company had undergone a coup almost 10 years ago, resulting in the death of many of the party line type members who wanted to continue the orthodox ways of the mafia.
Included in the death count were the boys fathers, but it seemed they agreed and followed the new orders down to the fine print. Betrayal by the younger generations should be expected, expecially if the older fellows refused to adapt to a modernizing international spectrum.
Walking through the front doors of the building, you worked hard to maintain the neutral expression on your face. It seemed the hatred you had for this place ached to be let out, but with the seven guard dogs surrounding you, the need was strong for placidity.
Even the silver letters that spelled out ‘Law Office’, made you shiver in frustration. That’s where your father built his life and where his workers abandoned him to get gunned down in cold blood.
[MYG]
He knew this place, intimately.
It wasn’t hard not to notice the small shiver that ran through Eli as he stood beside me. We had been walking through some of the employee’s offices when he seemed to pull into his body, hiding.
This coming from the same man who had stared 6 gun barrels and could only think about getting a drink meant something. This place meant something to Eli; I knew there was more to him than meets the eye. I know that BigHit can be intimidating, but Eli was brave to the point of being stupid and yet somehow had survived this long with the kind of detached happiness that pissed off people without trying.
It was a rare combination, but he worked with it…or it worked him somehow. By the time we had gotten to the stairs, he had returned to his old self; eyes wide with curiosity as he took in the office.
It was fake. They were all fake, but then again aren’t we all.
They continued in relative silence, save for the quiet greetings that passed between the boys and their connections within the company. Pretty soon the proverbial warning bells rang as the doors closed behind you, and you stared down the head of the BigHit mafia. Clad in his expensive tailored suit and looking way too smug behind the large glass desk, your fingers twitched to grab your semi and put a bullet between his slimy eyes.
“Welcome Eli.” The smile that broke over his face looked unnatural and you hated it. “It seems my boys have finally caught you.”
The air seemed to crackle at his words and this interaction gave you more than enough information. It seems that his boys don’t like to acknowledge failures, though that was already evident from Jungkook’s obsession with perfection. But neither were you the type to admit to something that never happened.
“They didn’t catch me. I turned myself in.” You avoided any use of honorifics or even of using his name so you would have to implement those. No one in BigHit deserved your respect as far as you were concerned. “I was getting bored of seeing them suffer and decided to be benevolent.” Casting a side glance at the men in the room, whose spines had gone stiff, you couldn’t help but let out a little laugh.
“Have they told you why?” You saw the man’s eye twitch and you couldn’t help but entertain the thought of how far you could annoy him before he reached his limit. Everyone has a breaking point after all.
“No they haven’t, but I’m sure you’re going to.” You knew exactly what he wanted out of you. But you played dumb like you always did.
“First of all, I want to welcome you to the ranks of BigHit.”
“First of all, I would like to reject that welcome as nowhere have I agreed to join BigHit.”
It was an outright refusal, but nothing less would do. The only way to leave was to die, and you really weren’t in the mood to fake your own death.
“Loyalty to BigHit would give you a lot of name in the circles.” He tried to coax you, promising higher pay and more stability; very contradictory for a mafia but then again before the incident you and your parents were very happy. The elephant in the room became part of the family having a seat at family dinners.
“I’m not the loyal kind.” Those words could be taken in one of two ways. A declaration of Eli’s independence from BigHit, which would be the safer option, or a threat that if Eli did join BigHit, that he would have no issue betraying them for his own gain. This would not sit well with anyone who ran a business as secretive as BigHit did.
The tension in the room rose to new suffocating heights. But Yoongi only saw Eli, with that aloof smile on his face; the eye of the storm and a bastion of peace. He looked happy to be the root of the tension, and on some base level, Yoongi understood that he loved causing trouble. That was his element and his strength.
Letting the words linger for a bit, you let out a laugh to dissipate the mood. “Why so dark faced,” Eli giggled. “I only mean that it wouldn’t be good strategy to tie myself down to a single company.”
The rest of them only stared. Here was a man who looked down the barrels of six guns simultaneously and only thought of his thirst. He just made a jab at the most revered mafia boss in Seoul and was now laughing it off like he was with old friends. For a moment, Namjoon didn’t know whether to fear or respect the blonde male.
“Besides,” Eli still wasn’t done with his dueling of words,” I don’t even know how good your boys are.” One side of his mouth fitted perfectly into the seams of a half-smile, haughty, arrogant and nothing less than a taunt.
The boys that flanked you on either side understood that this was your war to win with their boss and intruding would be the worst decision one could possibly make, so they kept their mouth shut. Still, their fists clenched as they silently swore to make you eat your words one day. You would see that they were not ones to be belittled.
“I’m sure my boys will show you that their previous failures are not the status quo.” He smiled, not forgetting to emphasize the possessive implications of his words.
“Now, despite your refusal to swear fealty to BigHit, we would like to hire you to help our boys with a job. The pay will be generous if you succeed, but if not I’m sure none of them would mind putting a bullet in your head for me.”
You laughed along,” They were all too willing to do it last week, so no. I’m sure they won’t mind. Then again, who says I won’t thank them for doing it.”
It was a shallow threat, but they didn’t have to know that. For now, you left the boss with the layout of the building and a vague sense of you being a suicidal motherfucker. Those were the worst, because the concept of risk did not exist to those all too willing to let death take them.
Moving forward, you made your most bold move yet. Pulling out the chair that stood on the opposite side of the desk, you took the liberty in sitting down. Psychologically speaking, you were trying to reduce his control of the space. With the room being his office, you understood that he felt some possessiveness of the room and expected complete control of the people who were in it. Taking a seat without his invitation and without asking permission was in direct conflict of his control.
“So, now that I am considering agreeing with you, who or what do you want me to steal?” Calm and collected, you propped your elbows on the desk and leaned forward, staring straight to his dark, beady eyes.
With a deep breath, he reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out a folder. It was a plain manila folder with papers seemingly stuffed haphazardly into it. They seemed to be from various sources.
“The target is a hard drive that the government owns containing all the evidence they have regarding BigHit’s illegal activities.” His teeth gritted slightly as he spat the words out. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out exactly how much that fact displeased him.
The real question was why he would want to steal it. Considering the organization is still running and angry protestors, the government hadn’t released the information so what was the point in having – and then it hit you.
“They’re blackmailing you! Oh, that’s adorable!” Leaning back in the upholstered chair you cackled at the idea of the playground politics going on around you. The corners of your eyes crinkled in the most childish way but the glint cut through the boys like steel. They hadn’t learned much about you in these last few days that you had stayed with them, but what they did come to understand is that you prescribed to your own definition of the world in a way that was admirable.
The grimace that came over the boss’s face was forced. In the depths of his eyes, you could see that you had struck a nerve with him. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to show any remorse. True, he was not the exact man that had doomed your family, but considering his position, he had tom have been around for it and that still blacklists him in your book.
“So where is this supposed hard drive, or do I have to do all that for you as well,” you questioned him. From the chair, you watched as he got up and retrieved a manila folder from a file cabinet.
It was stuffed with multiple documents from various sources, some pages were torn and yellowing at the edges. Others were crisp and white, but each was carefully tucked away into the folder.
With reluctance, he handed the folder to you. In a way you expected more attitude from him, but that only proved to you how much BigHit needed you to help them. If these guys were willing to tuck their tails between their legs then this must be serious indeed.
Still, they deserved no sympathy from you; none of the men in this room deserved any empathy from you for that matter.
He waited as you gingerly opened the folder and quickly scanned through the documents in front of you to get an idea of what you were going to be dealing with.
[PJM]
The room was quiet as Eli breezed through the haphazard scraps of paper before him, blue eyes shifting from left to right as he took in the information that the papers would have to offer. For a moment, I wondered what was going on in his head as he put together an image of the task in his head.
As much as I hated to admit it, I would have no choice but to listen to the head of blonde curls in the future. I may be able to obtain the equipment and set it up, but Eli would have the plan that would, hopefully, keep them all alive.
In the last few weeks, I had kept my distance from him, or as Jin hyung liked to call it, denial of the interloper that had made himself at home with is. This had also given him a chance to observe Eli from afar. The boy, for that was really what he was, had been boiled down to just being stupidly lucky, and knowing it. He courted death like an old friend, expecially with the workout stunt he pulled. Sure, the task itself wasn’t that hard when taking into the account the gap between the two opposite walls, but that wasn’t even taking into account the mental acuity it would take to come up with something like that on the fly.
I looked up at the quiet sigh that left Eli. He smiled softly, as if the papers were an old friend.
“It’s impossible.”
What he was sending the boys on, was a proverbial suicide mission.
“What?” The man behind the desk paled for a moment, and you could almost see the sweat starting to grow around his hair line.
Holding back a growl, you tried to enunciate every single syllable to make it easier for him.
“It is im-poss-i-ble.” You focused your stare on him, refusing to back down. “These boys may be willing to put their lives on the line for you, but I’m not going to.”
“You have no choice,” the man spit out through gritted teeth. His fists clenched against the wood of the desk. “You either help us or you die.”
“And who’s gonna kill me? You? With the gun in your top-left drawer? Or one of the boys behind me? Who I’m gonna be keeping alive in this death trap,” you spoke, shaking the folder for further emphasis. Despite wanting to continue to push your acting skills, you let it be for now. “Still, I’ve taken a liking to them, so I’ll do it.” Getting up, you turned your back and started walking out, ending the conversation on your terms.
[KNJ]
“He’s taken a liking to us? Since fucking when,” Jin whispered to me as we walk out of the office. It wasn’t commonplace for hyung to curse, but there was really no better way to express it. Since we had first met him, one of us had been at his throat constantly. Heck, Jungkook tried to shoot him that first night and damn near made him fall 50 stories that first morning.
But he lied.
Looking up ahead, I watched Eli as he lead our little pack with his head buried in the back in the folder as he took a more careful look at all the information in there Behind him, Jimin kept a watchful eye on Eli as he moved on auto-pilot through the building. Then again, that is the wonder of a thief’s brain. Memorization and quick thinking tend to come easier to them.
I followed the boys into the car, waiting for someone, mostly Eli, to break the silence. He brought back that sad smile that he had on in the office before.
I shrugged out an answer for Jin as we got to the receptionist and the front door, “Who knows? For now, we just do what we do best. Play along and take precautions.”
“I pity you all sometimes.” His voice was quiet and pensive, fingers still moving as they flipped through the pages on his lap.
“We don’t want your pity, so stop.” Jungkook’s voice was low and forceful. It made sense, he was a warrior and pity was weakness.
“You still haven’t learned, have you? I make my own decisions.” Eli’s voice never wavered in spite of the glare that Jungkook was shooting at him. “Anyways, I wasn’t lying when I said that he was sending you on a suicide mission. This is going to take a lot of training and coordination between the lot of us, so if you want to stay alive Kookie, I suggest you and Jimin start listening to me instead of fighting.”
Eli’s voice never wavered once, nor did his eyes leave the papers spread out on his lap. Despite this, the boys could see the way his eye trembled. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t seeing them. He was seeing the layout of the building and the way the operation would carry out.
The ride after that was silent, save for Eli asking for a pen from one of the boys as he jotted down notes on the manila folder. The chicken scratch was in shorthand, so none of the boys could read it, and they tried.
“Is that even English,” Taehyung questioned as he looked on over one of Eli’s shoulders.
“A variation of it yes,” Eli chuckled, and for the first time tore his eyes away from the documents. “Though I doubt you’re understand it.”
The other boys were silent as they watched the interaction between the two. Eli had always been slightly on edge around the boys, but for a bright and shining moment as he laughed, he relaxed.
Taehyung looked back into Eli’s eyes, bright and blue and clear, and smiled. It was the same smile he used on girls in the club, wide and white and big. “Teach me?”
“I can’t.”
Taehyung felt the world around him crack.
“It’s converse. Only thieves know it and none of you are thieves.”
The world cracked a little more. “I am a thief for your information. I have stolen more wallets and phone then years you’ve been alive.”
“What you are is a pickpocket. There is more art to being a con than that,” Eli mused as he gave off a melancholy sort of smile. “Material theft is nice an all, but there are far more interesting targets on a person; their thoughts, ideas, dreams.” A pregnant pause as all the boys listened despite their best efforts. “Their love.”
The seriousness with which he had thrown out that last item threw them all for a loop. Silence reigned as they all focused on the implication of his words. They didn’t have any time to respond as the car slower to a stop in front of their high-rise home.
Stepping out first, Eli did not hesitate in trudging ahead, through the doors and towards the elevators. Following him, with a more subdued pace were the boys, their conscious still turning over the words they had heard whilst on the road.
It raised more questions than it answered for them, yet that seemed to be the trend with Eli. Just when you thought you had figured him out, then he throws you for another loop or leads you by the hand down another rabbit hole of new mysteries. Infuriating as it was, somewhere deep down, the boys knew that they couldn’t blame him.
He only did what all good survivors of their dark world did; protect himself from others. If no one knows you, then they can’t hurt you. It was a hard lesson for some to learn, and those sods that didn’t, learned to face the consequences real quick.
The boys had seen more than their fair share of failures in their lifetimes, both their own and the shortcomings of others. They saw what was left of them when reality stripped them of their soul; it wasn’t a pretty sight to say the least.
The rest of the short walk to their front door was silent, each boy still having Eli’s words careening wildly through their heads. Eli immediately disappeared into his room, still scribbling his shorthand on the folder as he studied the notes in the folder.
The next morning, no one went for training or for a run. Eli hadn’t even come down for dinner the night before, choosing instead to lock himself in his room. He only deigned it important to appear for breakfast, dark circles just slightly more evident and ink blotches marring the baby soft skin of his hands.
He maintained a strict silence, maybe it was due to the stack of food, or it could be attributed to the cogs in his head that were still turning.
After mostly working his way through his plate, he took a sip of water and cleared his throat. From a silent breakfast, the others in the room turned to face him.
“It’s going to be rough, but it’s possible.” Setting down the silverware, Eli rubbed at his temples with his palms, continuing to speak into the silence with a slight muffle. “A shit ton of work, cooperation, and trust.”
“Trust,” Jimin nearly spat out. “You expect us to trust you?” Within his voice you heard all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t, but first and foremost, how could the boys trust you when that their entire lives centered around distrust.
All of them, especially Jimin, were wronged by the world until they learned to play their cards close to their chest and treat everyone as an enemy until they were proven a friend. This was the cruel reality when growing up as child of crime, expecially when being trained to reign over it.
Namjoon watched silently the showdown between you and Jimin. The tension between the two of you poignant enough to catch the attention of the others who may have otherwise been preoccupied with their breakfast.
He only sipped on his coffee silently as he contemplated what it would be like to function with you as part of his group. Being the defacto leader meant that he had the responsibility of understanding the dynamics of the others and the risks of introducing anew member. From the get-go, their bond was impregnable, having grown up together and suffered through their lowest together.
“Yes I do.” Eli’s voice was hard and left no room for argument. “Because if we don’t then we’re all going to die.” The words somehow seemed colder coming from the man that they all found to have the sunniest disposition, even when facing the leader of the local underworld.
“Let’s get to work then.” Yoongi was the last person who you expected to stand up for you, but then again it also made sense. He was the investigative genius of the group, but he also seemed to have the most sense of self-preservation among the boys. Did he want to work with Eli? No. But did he need to? Yes, so why bother wasting time.
Eli only nods in response and makes his way briefly back to his room to grab some papers before joining the others who had migrated into the living room. Spreading the papers on the coffee table, you begin to explain the death trap BigHit had assigned you all to rob.
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Ash In Ordina
Chapter Two: ‘Church’
The camera scanned the invitation, and the glass doors whisked open. Ash tucked it back in her cloak and stepped inside the Worship Office. Its vast main hall was nearly empty, supported by several marble pillars adorned with artificial torches, contrasting the square, clinical lighting fixtures illuminating the ceiling. Her footsteps echoed through the hollow expanse. She watched the shadows dance beneath the various grotesque furnishings, embellished with colorful trappings and expensive decorations. She wrinkled her nose. The Redeemed were never doing badly for themselves.
At a desk at the end of the hall were two men wearing typical Rapturist attire who seemed to be waiting for her. The smaller figure immediately smiled and stood up, moving around to the front of the desk with a posture of welcome. He had a messy haircut dyed bright pink to match his large eyes. The second man, a few feet behind him, had a darker complexion and grim countenance, towering over both of them, a large cleaver strapped to his back. Ash met his cold gaze for a moment before the smaller one greeted her.
“Ah, you must be Ash! Your appearance is very distinct, in a good way, miss!”
“Thanks.”
“And um, just to double-check, no last name?”
“No. I’m curious why the Redeemed need to hire a freelancer.”
“Hehe, well…” The man scratched the back of his head before clasping his hands together. “I doubt it’s going to be the usual sort of work you do… rather, we need you to find someone. One of our high-ranking members has seemingly gone missing, you see.”
Ash tilted her head, but stayed silent, waiting for more details. But then the man laughed to himself and spread his arms.
“Sorry sorry, where are my manners! My name is Alistar Fey, Redeemed, director third-echelon, fifth mind. And my partner here is…”
The tall man sighed, cracking his neck as he turned his head. “Andre,” he answered coldly.
Alistar smiled and turned back to Ash. “Politeness is what keeps the world spinning, I think. Which is also why this is a strictly above-board, on-record job.”
“Right. So who’s missing, and why do you need me to find them?”
Silently, Alistar took a small binder from the desk and handed it to her. Ash’s breath caught momentarily as she opened it. Real paper? They’re rich enough for paper after everything they did? Swallowing her annoyance, she skimmed through the details. His name was Zachary Kells. A life-long worshipper, decently wealthy thanks to his job at Skyvault as a researcher and engineer. But it seemed he’d recently left his job to fully devote himself to the Church.
“We’ve tried contacting him, of course,” Alistar said, scratching the back of his head. “But no one has seen or heard from him in nearly a week. He wasn’t involved in anything shady, to my knowledge, and was largely a homebody. His residence is on this floor, and we sent someone to check there, but no answer again. And since he lives in one of the Castles, well…”
Ash closed the binder. “You need someone who’s good at getting inside places they aren’t supposed to. And you don’t want the authorities involved, for reasons which I’m sure you won’t tell me.”
Alistar hesitated. Ash nodded and continued.
“It’s fine. I’ll find him... for the amount we agreed on.”
“Wonderful! Then, that should be all for our business here. Part of me hopes you’ll simply find him at home, but I rather doubt it, unfortunately…”
“Freelancer.” Andre said, taking a step forward for the first time. Ash flicked her eyes towards him and stood up straight, hands open at her sides. He raised an eyebrow and simply folded his arms.
“Watch yourself. Unsavory types buzz around these neighborhoods like hungry flies. Zachary is an important man. I trust you’ll do your best to keep him safe.”
Ash hesitated for a long moment, thoughts swimming beneath the man’s cold gaze. Does he know something about me…? Finally, Ash simply nodded and turned to exit the office hall.
-----
Dark streets caked in rolling fog, dimly illuminated by fading streetlamps. One could almost mistake this for outside, if not for the globes of faint light on the ceiling, nearly two-hundred feet above, staring like gray stars. The housing here, the Castles, were essentially buildings unto themselves, like houses stacked on one another. Security systems and relatively safe neighborhoods, on top of this, were what created the floors home to the wealthier-than-most but not nearly of the mega-rich status.
Ash walked to a street corner two blocks away from the Worship Office, where she found Cygnus waiting for her, playing a game on his phone. He brushed his hair out of his eyes as she approached.
“So, is it about what we figured?”
She shrugged. “No assassinations or whatever. They're just missing one of their top guys. I need your help getting into his place.”
Cygnus nodded, and started following behind her. His face wore the same dark look that Ash figured she had made when she entered the Church. Neither of them liked doing work like this, and Cygnus had even more reason than most to despise the Worship Unity and everything they did. Their footsteps echoed along the cracked street. No one else was milling around this late in the evening. But then, someone made themselves known.
Harsh voices clamored from a nearby alleyway. Scattered around the trash-filled crevice like chattering rats were several individuals of varying appearance, though the black, red-trimmed jackets wrapped around each of their waists indicated they were a group. There were six in total, some tall, some muscular, some squatting on dumpsters, others leaning against the wall. Almost all of them had some kind of augmentation or another - metal arms, thousand-eyes implants, studded or scaled flesh. Their weapons were crude, but looked sharp - probably scavenged from the Bone Forest. They turned to look at the pair as they began to pass, and Ash stopped suddenly as their gazes met. She recognized their appearance, their vibe, and this scent. These were Harvesters without a doubt. Before there could be any pretense of just passing through, the group quickly filed out of the alleyway to block their path, their faces grim yet thrilled. Ash sighed and turned to Cygnus.
“Go on ahead. I'll handle this.”
“… you sure?”
She nodded. Cygnus scanned the group with an analytical look before hesitantly stepping forward, whispering to Ash as he passed.
“Don't get in trouble.”
“I'll do my best.”
He walked past the Harvesters, not meeting any of their sharp looks, and while a couple of them spit in his direction, none of them made a move to attack. The tallest one, most certainly the leader judging by her demeanor, stepped forward. Her arms were muscular and heavily scarred, the sleeves of her jacket were ringed with iron spikes, and she wore a mask that covered the top half of her face, adorned with chaotic black and red designs. Her wild, black-haired ponytail nearly reached her waist. She leaned into Ash's face and laughed.
“How's it going, killer? Where ya heading to? Gonna chop off some more heads with that shitty sword of yours?”
Ash stared back, coldly. Her stomach was tied in a knot, but she didn't let herself panic. She knew this type.
“I don't see how that's your business, bitch.”
The group laughed again, and the woman smiled. Ash knew better than to use honorifics like ‘miss’ around Harvesters. The leader leaned back, walking around Ash as she replied.
“But it IS my business, motherfucker! Our group here, we protect these streets from killers like you!”
She stood in front of her again, folding her arms.
“God damn, are you edgy-lookin’ or what? I would have thought you were some gutless nobody if not for this scent… the scent of blood, so unmistakable… it clings to you like a haze~ and if I had to guess, you can smell it just like us, can’t you…?”
Ash rolled her eyes.
“Maybe.”
“Hahahaha~! So if I had to guess, you’re trying to turn over a new leaf or something? Blood doesn’t dry that easy, kid. A muzzled wolf is still a wolf.”
“You’re right,” Ash said, and flicked an inch of her sword from its sheathe. Its red glow captivated the group for a moment, and several of them brandished their own weapons. “So get out of my way or see the wolf for yourself. I’m not better than any of you. Except in terms of skill.”
Silence filled the street. Strapped across the lead woman’s back was a massive saw-cleaver that made Ash’s katana look like a knife. She sniffed a few times, then smirked. Behind her lips, her teeth had been replaced with sharper ones modeled after a shark’s. She stepped forward, and offered a hand.
“Name’s Tesla. Any chance you’d wanna join us…? We make serious dough off the rich idiots on this floor~”
Ash didn’t take her hand.
“Those days are behind me. I hunt different prey now.”
She made sure to phrase her words correctly, sweat forming on her clenched palms. To most gangs, you're either a threat, or nothing to worry about. To Harvesters, you're either a threat, or a walking pay-out. And either option makes them liable to kill you. But mercifully, Tesla shrugged and finally backed out of her personal space.
“Fair enough, I guess… but don't go thinking you're done being a Harvester. Everyone who's alive has to take from others to keep living. At least the lives we take are put to good use when we sell off their lungs and heart!
“Save the preaching for the church.”
The other Harvesters laughed and playfully punched Tesla, yelling ‘she got you good!’ as Ash continued down the street, her cloak wandering in the breeze.
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