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something-tofightfor · 3 years ago

Text

Venomous - Part 1

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader (no use of “Y/N”)

Word Count: 7,507

Rating: M. Language, mentions of violence and crime - smuggling, maybe some light murder, Reader’s very fearful for her life, etc.

Summary: Your career as a freelance investigative reporter has allowed you the opportunity to do two things:

One, keep your identity hidden while you uncover the truth

Two, to get a much closer look at the inner workings of some very interesting people and organizations.

But none of them have been anything like your current assignment: investigating the Sunspear Syndicate and their dealings. Are you up to the task, or will you get dragged straight into the snake’s den ... and find yourself up close with the Red Viper himself?

Author’s note:

OK SO. This wasn’t EVER my intention, but after seeing this post and getting permission from @thepoisonofgod to write about her art ... I couldn’t help it. I planned on this beong one long update ... but in true Rachael fashion, that’s not how it turned out. This is going to be multiple parts - so sit back and enjoy. It *is* an AU, but there will be canon elements - and some surprises - scattered throughout.

Thank you for reading!

In and out. In and out. It’s just in and out.

You repeated the words to yourself, moving swiftly through the darkness of the warehouse, feet falling as quietly as you could manage on the concrete floor. You’d done the same thing countless times before - it was, after all, the line of work you’d chosen.

And you loved it.

You loved the thrill of the information collection, turning your footage and images along with the research into the pieces that you were known for, no matter how long it took you to get it all right. Your work spoke for you, and the dedication that you’d put into your personal projects had impressed some pretty important clients over the years. And that’s why I’m here now.

You hadn’t met your most recent employer, had only communicated with them via encrypted emails and a burner phone that had been delivered to your PO box after you’d accepted the assignment… but it was a big one. Bigger than anything else you’d worked on, more important than ever before to uncover the truth as quickly and effectively as you could - and you were halfway there.

Just have to get in and out.

You’d planted the devices two weeks earlier, using intel from your client to ensure that they were ready to go before your targets moved in to use the open space. The waiting had been difficult, though you’d been assured that things were on schedule - that the deadlines remained the same, meaning that the building would be vacated when it was supposed to be - no delays.

“He doesn’t allow delays.” You murmured the words, taking a deep breath as you lifted the tiny screwdriver to the wall socket’s faceplate and then began to unscrew it. “Ever.”

Doran Martell was the face of Dorne, the one who publicly made decisions for his people … but all of it was for show, and everyone was aware of it.

The true head of the Sunspear Syndicate and the actual power behind the family name was his younger brother - and the object of your investigation - Oberyn Martell. He wasn’t the leader by birth, but you knew how the organization operated - and knew that the man you were after was completely in charge… and had been for years.

It made things complicated for you, but that was part of what you enjoyed about the job. Fear, adrenaline, the sense of adventure you felt on each new assignment? You couldn’t pick your favorite part of what you did, because that changed with each job you took.

Typically, it was the combination of everything all at once that made the long nights of combing through footage and files worth it, the results speaking for you and your skills. Even though you used a false name when you published and had your computer connection running through multiple cloaking systems so that no one could track you, seeing your work on the front pages of papers and at the top of web search results filled you with pride.

Chewing on your lower lip as you carefully pulled the small camera from inside the electrical box, you turned it over to look at the memory card slot. It’s there. It’s still there. Breathing a sigh of relief, you disconnected the wires to free the camera, tucking it into your front pocket. Methodically, you replaced the panel cover with the original one and slipped yours into your bag, quickly turning and moving into the other room before you let yourself think for too long about what you likely captured on camera.

Each of the three cameras you’d placed was undisturbed, the micro SD cards still inserted into the slots, and within fifteen minutes, you were back on the street, the empty warehouse blocks behind you. Out of habit, you took a winding path home, but once you were safely locked into your apartment, you finally let yourself breathe a true sigh of relief, pulling the tiny cards from their cameras and inserting the first into your laptop.

It was a wide shot of the largest room, and the video started with a flurry of activity - men building shelves and organizing them, prepping the room for what was to come. Perfect. Your eyes widened as you sped the video up, eyes locked on the screen as you watched the setup continue, the room filling with shelves and then the shelves filling with crates, the wooden panels branded with the Martell sigil. Oh this is perfect.

You scrolled through the video, pausing every so often to check on the audio - which was also high quality - until you reached the end of the footage, but you didn’t catch even a flash of the golden color you’d hoped to see. He’s not here. Instead, the men on the video were mostly dressed in deeper colors - umber and burnt sienna, nothing at all to distinguish them from each other. Disappointed but not surprised, you copied the files from the card to a hard drive and then removed it, switching to the second.

That tape featured more of the same - but in that room, you saw the contents of some of the crates for the first time, men opening them with crowbars and reaching in, pulling out perfectly round and vibrantly hued Dornish oranges and inspecting them before setting them back down and into the containers.

You’d suspected it as you dug into the Syndicate, figuring that the younger Martell was using the legitimate business of imported fruits to aid in his smuggling operation, but before you’d seen the crates of fruit, you hadn’t understood how it was possible.

There were no weapons on that camera, but you watched in 5x speed as certain crates were pulled to the side and then moved to flat carts before they were wheeled off-screen. It’s got to be those that they’re using. And it’s all got to be the other camera. If it wasn’t, then everything you’d done hadn’t been enough. You had information that showed that the Syndicate used the warehouse, but there wasn’t anything incriminating on the footage. You hadn’t seen a single weapon, hadn’t been able to pinpoint even a moment of illegal activity, and there hadn’t been any sign of the younger Martell on screen, but you still had one memory card to look through.

Switching to the final one, you paused with your finger over the play button, taking a deep breath.

You usually didn’t ask questions about the people that hired you or the jobs that you worked, but the Sunspear Syndicate and the Martells were different. It was still just a job, but you wondered who wanted the intel - who wanted them exposed, and what good it would do in the long run. Because this isn’t just me researching and posing it. This is … something else.

You weren’t being paid to write a tell-all or to get the information out to the general public. You were reporting to a specific client, and what they planned on doing with the information was unknown to you. Does it matter? If they’re smuggling weapons or drugs, someone should know. Someone should stop it. You didn’t have that power, but based on the amount you’d been contracted for, you figured that the people that had hired you did.

You didn’t think it was worth it to dwell on the thoughts, because you didn’t even know if you had any useful information to provide - so you pressed play, focusing your eyes on the screen.

The third room was the smallest, and had also been the largest risk, since there were fewer outlets available for you to hide the camera in. If any of them had been discovered, or outright blocked, you’d assumed it would be that one, but it appeared that your luck had held out, the footage beginning while more men in the same type of outfit loaded crates and boxes onto tall, shiny metallic shelves. As they filled the room, you realized that you were filming through a shelf, and there was a moment of panic at the thought that something would be placed onto it and in front of the outlet - effectively blocking off your view.

But that didn’t happen.

There was a closeup shot of a man putting something onto the shelf, the very top of whatever the item was filling the right hand corner of the screen, and then they returned to the other side of the room and to the shelves there. A small victory, at least.

Some of the items placed on the far shelves were the same size and shape as the others in the other rooms, and you assumed that they were the crates that had been loaded onto the carts - but the differently shaped ones were new to you.

Leaning closer, you clicked to slow the video down slightly, squinting your eyes at the screen. What is in those? Everything remained shut, though, until about halfway through the file when the comings and goings of the men stopped, multiple people replaced by a single figure. It’s him. You paused the file the moment he stepped into frame, eyes widening and a chill running through your body at the sight of the man on screen.

It was only his back - the man’s shoulders broad, his waist narrow beneath the baggy material he wore, but you watched as he lifted his arms, undoing the locks on one crate after the other. There was no doubt about the identity of the man. You’d seen Oberyn Martell before, and knew what to look for. But I’ve never seen him like this.

Noting the timestamps, you marked down the identifying features as you noticed them; the tattoo on his hand, the watch on his wrist, the way his hair curled over and behind his ears and down against the back of his neck and over the top collar of the jacket he wore.

He was there, but what he was doing was a different story. Methodically, he moved to the left side of the screen, pulling the lids off of crates and bending over to set them down on the ground before reaching into their depths. That was the first time you saw a weapon - a large gun pulled from the first wooden container, the man holding it up to inspect it in the light. That single one was followed by more, Oberyn humming in appreciation as he eyed each weapon before moving to the next. The second crate was the same, though the barrels of the guns looked a little different, and you made a note of that, too. Every detail matters.

Oberyn made his way through the boxes in front of him, pushing one sleeve up and over his elbow and exposing the lower half of his right arm - and the telltale tattoos there - before digging into one of the orange crates and pulling out a handgun, angling his body so that you could just see the muzzle of it over his shoulder. He nodded - you watched the back of his head as it moved up and down and instead of reaching back into the same crate he moved onto the next - pulling it forward and tilting the top of it toward himself.

That one was smaller than the others, shaped like an upright rectangle and made of a gleaming metal. The man used both hands to reach inside, slowly pulling out the contents and bringing them into view. “What the hell…” There wasn’t a weapon in that box. Instead, it was a helmet of some sort that caught the light with even the slightest tilt, the curved top completely smooth, as was the rest of the visible surface area, even where it was shaped into curves or had angled edges.

You didn’t know what kind of metal it had been made with, and found your head tilting to one side as you squinted at the screen, trying to figure out what had been used to create the darkened visor at the very least. It was something you’d never seen before, and without much consideration, you realized that you probably wouldn’t ever again. Making a note of that, you added an asterisk next to it, reminding yourself to research that item specifically. If I can even figure out where to start. “I bet there’s only one of those”

He spoke a few seconds after you did, echoing your assumption, which made you gasp. “A one of a kind piece. It is perfect.” The chill was back at the sound of the man’s voice, low and smooth even though he was facing away from the microphone, and you realized that it was the first time he’d spoken in the entire time he’d been on camera, the first words that only your ears had ever heard. Blinking quickly, you told yourself to focus, watching as he set the helmet down on the shelf and continued on, making his way through the boxes. Don’t forget that you’re investigating him… not analyzing the way his voice sounds.

There were more weapons, a lot of ammo, tons of oranges, and even what you finally realized were art supplies; pens and pencils, ink and paper … but the man kept his back to you throughout the duration of his activity, organizing things and making his own notes. He reached up once or twice to scratch the back of his head and neck, and you again caught sight of the tattoo on his hand, eyes drawn to the dark circles on the webbing between his fingers. But I need confirmation. I need to see his face, need to hear him say something about what he’s doing, and where these are going and…

You didn’t wait long.

A few minutes later, the man finished with his notes, arms falling to his sides as he rolled his neck out slowly. You figured that he was getting ready to leave the room, but instead of doing that he spun to face the direction of the camera, the man tucking both hands into his pockets as he stepped toward the second set of shelves. It’s definitely him.

He moved casually, eyes flitting over the shelves and the items that were on them, though they didn’t linger anywhere. When he was almost directly in front of where the lens was pointed, he stopped, pulling one hand from his pocket and reaching up, the bottom of the jacket he wore lifting with the motion to expose a thin strip of tanned skin - and more ink - above the waistband of his pants. When he settled back, a thick book held in one hand, you noticed that the jacket was only partially zipped, the material parted in a deep v that showed off what looked like an incredibly toned chest - and a flash of gold from the thick chain he wore around his neck.

Part of you didn’t want to turn the footage over. You didn’t want to give someone anonymous such an up-close look at the Syndicate’s actions, but it was what you’d been paid to do. It doesn’t matter how good looking I think he is, this is my job.

Once you’d gathered the intel, things were out of your hands, and that meant sitting back and waiting to see what would happen because of it just like the rest of the world. But we’re not there yet. You leaned in, watching as Oberyn turned the book over in his hand before flipping through it with the other, brow furrowed in concentration as he scanned the pages. You also noticed his eyes occasionally moving from the item he held in his hands to the shelf and then back. Are those the cargo logs? What is he looking at?

Making a note of that, too, you quickly looked back up just in time to see the man snap the book shut, letting it drop onto the table. He didn’t leave, though - Oberyn placed his fingertips against the flat surface and leaned over it, eyes level with the shelf that the camera was behind. Instead of rifling through what was on the shelf, he stared straight into the camera, eyes locked with yours through the screen. “Oh, this isn’t good.”

You felt a chill creeping through your body and unease settling in your lower belly at the thought that he’d discovered the hidden device, but it wasn’t until the man visibly reacted at you felt downright fear, fingers gripping the pen you held more tightly. Oberyn’s head tilted slightly to one side, lips quirking up into a smirk and then into a grin, a dimple present on one cheek. This isn’t good at all. He didn’t speak, but you watched as he reached out with one hand, the grin never disappearing from his face.

Moments later, you froze as he bit down on his lower lip and then winked, still not looking away. Before you could even move, the screen went completely dark - the result of the man blocking the camera’s view with one large hand .

“Oh, I’m fucked.”

—

Two days later, you were waiting in a small, nondescript bar on the other side of town, a black leather bag sitting next to you on the seat of the booth you occupied.

That was faster than you usually worked; the previous 48 hours spent logging the information on the tapes as quickly and accurately as possible, making notes of anything of interest, doing a little bit of additional research on the Syndicate and Oberyn Martell to try and tie everything together. And to see what I can do to protect myself.

The morning after you’d collected the cameras, you’d reached out - using a disposable phone to call your contact, leaving a message and telling them that you’d be ready to meet within the next few days. You hoped that they’d believe it was because you were good at your job, but in reality, the rush was because you were planning on leaving town as soon as you handed things over - and staying away until you could figure out whether or not Oberyn and his men knew your identity.

When your client replied, telling you that you could set the time and place for the meeting, you’d picked a location that was the complete opposite of your usual preference, opting to dress down, too - and hoping that you’d blend in with your surroundings. You hated the idea of running, but feared the idea of what could happen if you stayed even more, and didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to yourself.

It was a no-win situation for you, but even if you had to disappear for a while and cut off contact with your friends, that was much more pleasant than the alternative. Anything is. Though you didn’t know much about the Syndicate when it came to the way they dealt with threats, you knew that since he’d been the one to find the cameras, Oberyn would likely take things personally. And when it came to him, you had a better idea of what you could expect..

So your bags were in your car, the majority of your belongings left in your apartment, and as soon as the money your client owed you was in your hands, you were gone, planning to figure out the next steps from at least a few thousand miles away. Where it’s safer. Where I don’t have to… Your thoughts were interrupted by a quiet clink as a drink was set on the table in front of you, long fingers sliding the glass over the scarred surface. “I didn’t order anything.” Immediately reaching out with one hand to push the drink away, you shook your head as you looked up. “I’m just waiting for…”

The words died on your lips as you locked eyes with the man standing next to the table, and you knew that you’d given yourself away. But if he’s here then he already knows. “I know you didn’t.” His voice was low and smooth, the man’s gaze never leaving your face. “So I brought one for you.” You couldn’t reply as he slid smoothly into the seat across from you, lacing his fingers together as he set his hands on the table. “The Dornish are known for many things, and none of them are leaving a woman without something to drink.”

You were staring and you knew it, but you couldn’t help yourself. The man wasn’t in the outfit you’d seen him in on the recording - instead he was dressed sharply, wearing a deep red shirt close in color to the one that his men had been wearing in the warehouse beneath a deep blue suit jacket, both of which he wore at least partially unbuttoned. As you eyed the visible expanse of his neck and chest, you couldn’t help the tug of your lips upward. I don’t think he knows how to button anything.

There was nothing casual about his presence in front of you, but if you hadn’t known who he was, he would have blended into just about any crowd in the downtown area on a weekend night. At least with the way he’s dressed.

You were likely in danger, and you knew it, but you couldn’t help what you were thinking, couldn’t ignore that images and videos didn’t even come close to doing the man’s in-person appearance justice. Say something. Answer him. “Is this made with -” It surprised you how steady your voice sounded, and you were thankful for it.

“Dornish blood oranges. Yes.” He was still watching you closely, though his posture was relaxed. “Among other things.” He concealed his smile - barely - and gestured with one finger. “Please. Try it.” You lifted the glass to your lips, sniffing at the contents, and had just opened your mouth for a taste when he spoke again.”I made it myself.”

That stopped you immediately, fingers tightening around the glass as you moved it away from your mouth. “Then maybe I shouldn’t drink it.” Oberyn laughed at that, and before you could react, he’d reached for your hand, fingers covering yours as he pulled the drink away from you. He raised the glass and an eyebrow, smirking at you before he took a sip from it, tongue dragging along his lower lip as he pushed it back into your hand.

“My reputation precedes me.” You nodded, finally looking down at the drink for longer than a moment. The glass was filled with a red-hued liquid and small, circular ice cubes. It looked vaguely bubbly, and you saw that along with a candied slice of the orange, there were two raspberries atop the ice, too. Might as well enjoy it. You took a longer drink than the man had, closing your eyes to savor the taste as it hit your tongue. This is amazing.

It might have been the fact that you were halfway convinced that you weren’t going to walk out of the building on your own, but the drink he’d made you was one of the best you’d ever tasted - fresh and bright, just a hint of alcohol, the oranges perfectly tangy and accented by the bite of the raspberries. “It’s really good.” You took a deep breath after swallowing, setting the glass back down. “But I still -”

“You want to know why I’m here.” He was direct, and you appreciated that, the man’s eyes still on you. “And I understand. It’s a valid question.” His brow was still raised, and his voice betrayed nothing, though the slight nod you’d seen as you took a drink and liked it had been a welcome sight. “But I think that maybe the real questions need to be about why you are here, and what you are doing with that bag.”

“I…” Swallowing hard, you continued to watch the man, taking a deep breath to give yourself a few more moments to think. He had to know what you were doing there if he’d met you at that specific time in that specific place. Somehow, he’d pieced together that it had been you responsible for the cameras, which meant that he’d likely also found the person that had hired you. “I was meeting a client.” There was no reason to lie to him - if you were operating under the assumption that he knew everything, honesty gave you a slight edge. Might still not make it out of here, but maybe … maybe if I’m honest he’ll make it quick. “I was hired to … look into the Sunspear Syndicate. My client gave me some intel, and I followed up on it. I was supposed to meet them here tonight to talk things over.”

“Why here?” Tilting his head to the side, he frowned. “This doesn’t seem like the type of place you’d use to conduct business.” He wasn’t wrong, but all you could do was shrug your shoulders.

“Trying to stay under the radar, Mr. Martell.” Saying his name made the situation real, but you were surprised to hear the man laugh, waving you off with one hand.

“There’s no reason for the formality. I am Oberyn, and that’s what you should call me.”

“Not like it matters.” You mumbled the words before you could stop them, the man’s attention immediately returning to your face. Oops. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Explain.” He swallowed, the man’s eyes narrowing as he turned his head slightly to the right, tilting his chin upward. “Why wouldn’t it matter?”

“I confirmed this meeting with my client, and since he’s not here, I’m assuming that you found him, too.” He didn’t speak, instead remaining silent and waiting, the intensity of his gaze nearly burning through you. “And whatever you did to keep him from being here, I’m sure … I’m sure I’m not too far behind.” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the actual words - that you expected that Oberyn and his men had some sort of punishment planned for you, that you were almost certain that the temporary absence from your apartment would become a permanent one - so you stuck with the next best thing. “So, Oberyn, I don’t really know that what I call you matters, because -” “You assume that something unfortunate happened to the man you were supposed to meet.” He was doing it again, keeping his expression even though there was amusement in his eyes that he couldn’t hide. “Just as you assume that I put something dangerous into your drink before serving it to you.” The man flattened both hands on the table and then leaned in, chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath and then released it, the edges of his unbuttoned shirt moving to expose the same chain you’d seen on the video. “Would you believe me if I told you that you are perfectly safe with me right now, and that your client is, too?”

“No.” You didn’t hesitate, though you did pick up the glass and take another drink, that time sucking one of the raspberries between your lips and into your mouth. “No, I don’t think I believe that.” The man’s response wasn’t what you imagined. Instead of getting upset, Oberyn straightened up and then leaned back, resting his shoulders against the padded bench behind him. He kept his expression neutral for a few seconds and then without warning, the man laughed, throwing his head back and exposing his entire throat to you, teeth glinting in the overhead lighting. “Why is it so funny?”

You had no idea where the boldness came from, because you knew that you had no right to question him. “You’re right to be concerned.” He cleared his throat, shifting his shoulders, though he didn’t lean forward again. “Tell me more about what you and your employer were going to talk about.” What? “What information were you going to give him about me?” Weighing your options, you watched him, letting your gaze move over his face. You had no idea why he was keeping you talking, or what he hoped to gain … but every minute you spent with him was one that allowed you to keep breathing, and you decided that you liked that.

“I was hired because of the work I do and the success I’ve had in the past. I work as a -” The man cut you off, speaking your first and last names along with your date of birth. Shit.

“You’re not the only one that has a reputation, despite operating under a different name.” His brow shot up again, the mischievous look back in his eyes. “I know all about who you are and what you do.” That shocked you, but you didn’t want to let it rattle you … or let him know that it had. So I won’t.

“My client had intel about your next storage location. He approached me and offered me a very large sum of money to place cameras throughout the warehouse for the time Sunspear would be using it.” He nodded, waiting. “I’m usually not so … far from what I’m doing, but this one, your group? Getting close wasn’t an option. And my client, he didn’t want … he didn’t want up to the minute information, just a general idea of how you operate and what you’re doing.” Based on what you’d learned about Sunspear and their history, you had an idea as to who wanted to know more about them, but that wasn’t what he’d asked, so you chose not to say anything. “Your people do a good job of separating your legitimate business ventures from the ones like the warehouse, Oberyn.”

Trying to smile, you closed your eyes and shrugged. No matter what happened, it was the truth. “We’ve worked very hard to ensure that the Martell name itself is separated from the Syndicate. But Doran… Doran doesn’t understand that sometimes what needs to be done isn’t what is considered acceptable.” Oberyn’s tone softened when he mentioned his brother and you opened your eyes once again, meeting his from across the table. “I take the risks that he cannot, the ones that he wouldn’t even dream of.”

‘I figured.” Reaching for the drink, you took another large swallow, the liquid cold against your tongue. “Dorne and the Martells are everywhere. There’s plenty of information about you, and it took a lot of digging to link things together.”

“But you did.” He pointed with one finger before curling it back in, running it along the underside of the golden ring on his thumb. “I’d love to know what it was that you found.” It only took you a split second to make your decision, reaching next to you for your bag and lifting it, before sliding it across the table.

“It’s all in here.” Drawing your hand back, you took a long breath, eyes on the leather. “You found one of the cameras, so you know there’s footage. But there’s also notes that I made, a couple hard drives, things that I printed and -” “Why are you giving these things to me?” He cocked his head once more, this time in the opposite direction. “They don’t belong to -” “You’re going to take them anyway, right?” You felt the time winding down, sure that whatever the meeting had been for, Oberyn had already gotten his answers from you. “Why else would you be here yourself?” He frowned, blinking twice. “It’s a Saturday night, I’m sure that there are plenty of places you’d rather be, people that you -” “I’m where I want to be.” His word choice was deliberate - you were sure of it - but that didn’t put you at ease. “Are you?” He fell silent again, and as it stretched out, you realized that everything around you was silent. There were no conversations between other people, no music pumping through the speakers. Risking a glance at your surroundings, you saw that the place was completely empty, though you knew that it just looked that way, that the man wouldn’t be anywhere by himself, even if it was only you he had to worry about. When did everyone leave?

You decided it didn’t matter. “I don’t like to make it a habit of getting caught by the people I’m investigating, no.” Taking another drink, you realized that the liquid was gone, nothing but ice cubes and a couple stray pieces of fruit left in the glass. “But at least the one time it happens, it’s …by someone I can’t really be surprised about.” You’d known that your luck would likely run out, that there’d be an endgame to the career you’d chosen, but you hadn’t thought it would be so soon - or that you’d potentially pay with your life. I wonder if he’ll do it himself.

There were rumors - unproven of course - of the man’s skill with weapons and poison, of the way that he was cunning and stealthy, but not ruthless when dealing with the people that had crossed him. He didn’t get the Red Viper nickname for no reason. But you’d found no concrete evidence of Oberyn Martell’s involvement with any of the crimes - or alleged crimes - of the Sunspear Syndicate, and that’s why seeing him on the recording had been such a big deal. Because it proves he knows. It proves he’s involved, and that he … “You didn’t make it easy.”

“What?” Confused, you moved your head back and forth, not understanding. “You saw the camera after only a few minutes, it wasn’t like …” It was the man’s turn to shake his head back and forth, though he never broke eye contact with you.

“No, we looked for days. My men are smart, but they didn’t think to look in the electrical boxes.” Closing his eyes, he smirked. “We won’t make that mistake again.”

“I’m glad I was able to provide the Sunspear Syndicate with a valuable learning experience.” Forcing a smile, you pressed the heel of your hand against your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’ll add it to my resume.” The one in my head, anyway, since I probably won’t be opening a computer again.

“You should.” He spoke up, and a moment later, you felt his fingers close around your wrist, urging you to lift your head. What? “Do you know what the most difficult thing about my life is? The most difficult thing about operating the way I do?” Telling him no, you glanced down, watching as the man ran his thumb over the inside of your wrist, the gold of the ring glinting against your skin. “Finding people that can surprise me. Separating the ones that are truly good at what they do from the ones just willing to do it.”

His words confused you, but the way he spoke was hypnotizing - the cadence of his voice distracting you from the situation at hand, the way he chose his words keeping you on your toes. He knows what he’s doing, but I don’t. I don’t at all. “Oberyn, I don’t… why are you telling me this?”

“I should be offended that you assume that the first thing I would do is hurt you. But I’m not, because in any other situation, that’s … exactly what I would do. To prove a point, to make an example of you, warning no one else to try and dig deeper or expose what we are trying to do with what you saw on those cameras.” You felt the pounding of your heart behind your ribs, realizing at the last second that Oberyn’s hand placement was deliberate, too - he could feel your pulse beneath his fingertips, and knew exactly how you were reacting to what he said. “But let me be clear with you.”

He didn’t pull his hand away, instead tightening his grip, and all you could do was nod, your breaths coming rapidly as you waited to find out where the conversation was going. This is it. One way or another, this is … it for me. You were oddly at peace, and hoped that the man would do what he was going to do and be done with it, not dragging things out. He had the information, knew who you were and where you lived, and could send men to your place to search for any lingering insurance you’d taken it upon yourself to save once you weren’t an issue anymore. And he will. I know he will.

“You were supposed to meet the man that hired you to investigate the Sunspear Syndicate here tonight, to turn over everything that you found on us.” A single nod was all you could manage. “Well… you’ve done that.” What? You didn’t understand, your lips parting in disbelief. “And yes, I found the cameras, but it took me some time, which hasn’t been the case in the past.” You shivered at the admission, wondering exactly what had happened to others that had tried to infiltrate the Syndicate and knowing that you’d likely find out soon enough. “You challenged me and my men in the exact way that I hoped you would when I decided to hire you for this job, and that’s why I have another proposition for you.”

You couldn’t help it, tearing your arm from the man’s grip and shrinking away from him, back against the creaking surface of the booth. What? What is he talking about? He didn’t hire me, I would have … But after a few seconds, you realized that it would have been easy for him to disguise his voice or have someone else make the initial phone call, and even simpler for him to provide you with the tools and methods of contact you’d had without giving anything away. And it makes sense that he was the one to meet me here, because … “What are you saying?”

“I want you to work for us. For me. Do what you do best, but do it only for me when and how I need you to.” This makes no sense. “If you say yes, you’ll have unlimited resources and the protection that I can offer you as both the Red Viper and Oberyn Martell while you work.” He paused, wetting his lips and rubbing the tips of his fingers together, the smirk that had been in his voice growing into an almost radiant smile on his lips. “But the best part?” He leaned in again, resting his forearms on the table. “You won’t have to worry about leaving town anymore, because there’s no reason to be afraid of getting caught.”

“You’re… telling me that you want me to work for you?” He nodded, the man’s fingers tapping slowly against the tabletop. “That … investigating the Syndicate was a test, and that I passed because it took you longer to find the cameras than you thought it would?” He didn’t nod, instead the man winked, biting down on the inside of one corner of his lip. Well that’s unfair. “I’m sorry, Oberyn, I must sound ridiculous right now, putting all of this -” “You don’t.” He swallowed, the smile disappearing, expression going solemn. “I understand, this is a lot to take in.” It was, and you were thankful - if not a little dumbstruck - that what was happening was actually what was happening. “I have to be very selective about the people I choose for work like this, and it requires … secrecy.” You stayed quiet, feeling as your heartbeat returned to its regular rhythm, and the man took a long breath, sitting straight up. “Take a few minutes to think about it. I’m going to make myself a drink. Do you want another one?”

You did. But is it a good idea? “I drove here. My car is -” “That isn’t a problem.” He waved you off with one hand, sliding out of the booth. “Yes or no?” You wanted to have another drink with him, wanted to enjoy the taste of the alcohol without worrying about your life hanging in the balance - and so you agreed, giving him a tight smile. “Good.”

He stepped away from the table, and as soon as he was out of sight, you let out a long sigh, the sound shaky in the quiet space. He’s offering me a job? He wants me to work for… You knew that you’d need more details as you began the work, and also knew that you were unlikely to be told anything of consequence if you asked. But that means that I… If what the man was saying was true, accepting work meant that you’d live to see the following day - that you wouldn’t become another statistic, someone that disappeared without a trace or fell victim to something that was easily written off as a random act of violence.

And you wanted to live. You hadn’t realized how scared you’d been until that moment - the fear pushed back by the genuine shock of the man’s presence and the conversation you’d had. There’s only one answer I can give, then.

You knew it and he likely did, too, even though he hadn’t outright threatened you in any way, he’d dropped hints - reminding you of the way he usually operated, the things he’d done to the people that had disappointed him in the past. But I didn’t. Covering your face with both hands, you shook your head back and forth, trying to slow your mind down - but it did little to help.

“This one is alsol made with our oranges.” He was back, standing next to the table with a drink in each hand. “But this time instead of adding the juice, the alcohol itself is infused with the fruit.” The second drink was clear, Oberyn waiting for you to reach up to take one of them from him. “Vodka. Ginger beer. A little -” “Cinnamon.” You raised the glass, eyeing the rim, which was dusted with a rich brown powder. “A Dornish Mule.” Pressing your lips together, you held your glass in place, watching as the man once again took his seat across from you. “Thank you, Oberyn.” His eyes flashed at the sentiment - or maybe at your ability to identify the drink so quickly and the use of his name - but before you knew it, the edge of his glass clinked against yours, the man locking eyes with you and then raising it to his lips - you not far behind with the one you held.

That one was just as good as the first, and you gave yourself a few moments to enjoy the way it tasted, still thinking over his proposition. “Tell me what you are thinking.” He set his glass down on the table, his thumb running idly over the rim of it, the pad gathering the remnants of the cinnamon with the movement.

“Do I really have a choice?” You scoffed. “It’s not actually an offer, is it? If I don’t -”

“There’s always a choice.” He sipped the drink once more, the lines deepening between his brows. “Forcing someone to do anything would make me no better than the people we’re working so hard to protect ourselves from.” Oberyn looked thoughtful for long moments, glancing away and frowning. I wonder what that means. His change in posture gave you a chance to admire his profile - strong nose, neatly trimmed beard along his jaw, the slight curl of hair behind his ears because that night, it wasn’t pushed back from his face - instead, it looked soft and messy, the only thing about him that wasn’t perfectly put together. This isn’t the time. “But if it makes any difference, you…” Looking back at you, he squared his shoulders. “You really did impress me.”

“I did?” He nodded in response, the motion deliberate. “Good to know.” So I do have a choice? This isn’t just … “Is this a permanent position, or temporary?”

“Permanent. I understand you’re freelance at the moment, but for this to work, I’d have to hire you. On paper,” he continued, leaning closer to catch your eye. “You would work for the Martells. But the truth?” He smirked again. “You would work for me.” He means for the Syndicate, right? “And only me.” I guess not.

It wasn’t just the man’s business reputation you were familiar with - and the way he was talking to you made you understand the appeal even more. This is insane. Twenty minutes ago I was worried he was going to kill me and now he’s… He wasn’t quite flirting with you, but the man’s tone had changed, voice dropping lower and his features softening slightly. But it’s just for show. He’s still… the Red Viper… but right now, he wants me.

“I accept.” You shivered as you spoke, though your gaze was unwavering. I have to be careful. “This was the only thing I was working on, so whenever you need me, I -”

“Good.” Oberyn took another long drink, settling back against the seat. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

—

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #the red viper #pedro pascal #pedrostories #pedro pascal character #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell: venomous #game of thrones fic #game of thrones au

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strawberrylemonz · 4 years ago

Text

Past and Present

Part 12

Part 13 [CURRENT]

Part 14

DT: @petrichormeraki @applepie1000 @jump-in-the-cadillac @ivorylin @sydneys-sketches

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

Tommy quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The group in front of them turned to face the source of the group. Tommy mentally smacked himself upside the head as he pulled Fundy behind him, the Lovely Trio slipping behind him as Kristin and Grian stepped in front of Sam and Puffy, who held the children close. It wasn’t until three familiar faces made their way to him, that he felt like breaking. It wasn’t because Phil was there, concern and relief flooding his face as he looked over Tommy. It wasn’t because Techno was looming over them, facial expression unchanging, only betrayed by the several emotions going through his eyes. It wasn’t because of Ghostbur, because Ghostbur wasn’t floating there. He wasn’t even floating he was standing. There, standing with his hands stuffed into his pockets, stood Wilbur, who was very much alive. The three of them stepped towards the youngest member of their family, the one they missed so dearly, only to stop when he put his hands up in defense, stepping closer to the fox shifter behind him.

“Wilbur, you’re...you’re-”

“Tommy, you’re okay!”

Everyone on the Dream SMP frowned as Tommy made an “eh” noise, making a balancing movement with his hand as he peered back at the group behind him, all who, aside from Sam and Puffy, made similar noises and movements back at them. Much to their embarrassment, they were the only ones who found amusement to it. Regaining his composure, Tommy turned back to Kristin, giving her pleading eyes. She nodded before nudging Grian, who was already moving to pick up Theo. Clem smiled as she climbed into the embrace of her grandmother, hugging her with delight. After being reassured that the children were away from the group, Tommy returned his gaze to the members of his older server.

“Let’s go to a more private space. I would very much like you all more if you don’t start anything unnecessary during my opening.”

Without waiting for a response, Tommy turned and, after ensuring Fundy was safely in front of him, began walking out of the cavern, everyone else following behind. As he waved to guests and Hermits alike, he led the group into one of the larger taverns. Taking out a keycard from behind the automated desk, he patted the robot working there before walking over to a large set of double door. Humming a tune that caught Wilbur’s attention, he inserted the keycard and pushed the doors open, leading the group in. He closed the door after the last two people, who happened to be a very disgruntled Jack and Niki. After everyone was sat down in their own seats, they all exchanged uncertain looks. Finally, Fundy decided it was best to break the silence.

“So, I see the resurrection was successful.”

“Yeah, we managed to get Wilbur bac-”

“You have a son.”

Tommy saw Fundy stiffen beside him as the voice of Wilbur spoke up, quieter than they remembered. Fundy pressed his lips in a thin line as he peered up to his newly revived father. Giving him a little nod Fundy cleared his throat as he scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I do. He’s great, you know. Very smart and fun, sneaky too.”

“Do I know who your significant other is?”

“I wouldn’t call him my significant other, we aren’t together. He was very...the situation was...we didn’t work out. But, yeah, you know him. You all do, actually.”

“Who is it?”

“Dream”

Fundy quickly spoke the name, reeling back as he waited for the expected backlash. Hesitating for a moment, he almost believed that, much like the situation with Tommy, he would receive no backlash. He was, however, quickly proven wrong. The only other revived man there was the first to speak up.

“WHAT?!”

“YOU FUCKED DREAM?!”

“LANGUAGE!”

“THE FURRY FUCKED GOD, OH MY FUCKING ENDER-”

“George? George, can you hear me? Dude, blink if you can hear me-”

“When we said ‘suck it green boy’, we didn’t mean literally!”

“How did you manage to get him to-”

As the chaos began to rise, Fundy began to shrink in his seat, panic settling in. Taking note of this, Tommy frowned as he tried to settle everyone down. When no one responded to him, he grew frustrated. Getting annoyed, Tubbo sat up to yell at the source of the chaos, only to find that he was beat to it. With a loud foot stomp, a booming voice yelled over the chaos.

“Will you all shUT UP?!”

Silence filled the room as everyone turned to face the source of the yell. There, fists clenched tightly by her side, stood Drista. Everyone hesitated about her next course of action, as the eyes on her mask seemed to glow with her annoyance. As she sat down, crossing her arms and legs together, she huffed as she prepared to speak up once more. Much to her annoyance, however, the door to the room creaked open, a new presence creeping in.

“Sorry I’m late, you all have seem to have forgotten me back on my server.”

Everyone watched as the figure approached, Fundy shrinking in his seat. Tommy stiffened in his own, one hand in Tubbo’s, the other clamped around Fundy’s wrist. Tubbo, on the other hand, glared at the floor as he held onto Tommy’s hand, as if that alone would solve their issues. The figure, now more visible to be Dream, hummed as he stood in between the three boys and the members of his server. Seeming to only focus on the three, he crossed his arms as he laughed.

“Wow, I didn’t think I’d see you three again. Tommy, Tubbo, it’s been years. Good to see you two in good shape. Fundy, I haven’t seen you in a little over two years. Didn’t think that I’d find you here, of all places. Did you all miss m-”

SMACK

Everyone stared in shock as Dream held onto his face, trying to keep his mask steady as he regained his balance. Once he quickly regained his composure, he quickly turned to face his “attacker.” Standing in all her glory, stood his sister, hands on her hips as she stood there, anger simmering underneath her mask. As she stood up straight, she hummed in acknowledgment as Lani walked up beside her, leaning on her for support. Holding her hand out, Lani smirked as Drista gave her a high five. The beginning of their best friend handshake was cut short, however, when Dream spoke up once again.

“Drista? When did you get here? Is this where you’ve been? Why haven’t you come by to visit me-”

“Oh, I don’t know, why did you never reach out to me? And if you had bothered to show up to the revealing of the park on time, you would have known where I’ve been. Now sit down and stay quiet so we can all catch up.”

“And none of you better try attacking! All guests are unable to do any form of pvp that’s not in any of the special arenas, so don’t even try!”

“Yeah, what Lani said!”

--------

The group was walking to the opposite side of Tavern Town, towards the booth games. Fundy was walking with Quackity and Karl, telling them of al the projects he had done since he last saw them. Not trusting her brother at all, Drista walked beside Dream, Lani joining in on keeping an eye on the admin. Tubbo was catching up with Ranboo, as well as timidly speaking with an unusually kind Schlatt. Humming as he walked in the front of the group, Tommy bopped his head as he replayed a song in his head. Opening his mouth, he quietly sang out the lyrics that swam in his head.

“He’s in your bed-”

“-I’m in your Twitch chat”

Jumping slightly, Tommy turned to see Wilbur, walking up to be by his side. Joining him in this was both Phil and Techno, the three of them as awkward as ever. Unsure as to what to expect from them, Tommy just gave them a nod of acknowledgment. As much as he wanted to embrace the three of them into a grand hug, telling them how much he missed and loved them, he didn’t dare to do so. After all the years they spent away from each other, he was able to reflect and forgive them for the wrong things they’ve done to him, intentional or not. What he didn’t know, however, was how they viewed him after all these years. Did they forgive him for all the troublesome chaos he caused, intentional or not? Could they find it in themselves to do so? He didn’t blame them if they didn’t, he wasn’t even sure if he would.

“You know, we thought that you had died, mate. No one had seen you in so long after...after L’manburg. And I know he isn’t family, but he practically was, so it was concerning when Tubbo went missing too. Then, out of nowhere, Fundy was gone overnight. I thought I lost my family, so I became desperate to get Wilbur back so that the three of us could get you all back.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, mate?”

“Why get us back? Why want us as family?”

Did he forgive them? Yes, of course he did. Doesn’t mean that he had to forget their actions, as well as the consequences that came from them. Doesn’t mean that he wasn’t allowed to question their decisions. He still loved them, sure, but he needed answers. He needed to know if they loved him back, if they loved all of them. He watched as Wilbur was in deep thought, trying to find the right words to say. He turned to see Phil, emotion running through his face as he stared at Tommy, not knowing what to say to his questions. The last person he thought would speak up, spoke up.

“We were blinded by our own emotions, Thes- er, Tommy. That’s not an excuse for our impulsive decisions, especially ones that put your life at stake, we know this. But we are family, as much as I tried to run away from that fact over the last few years. I let the voices and the power that I held as a pvp god distract me from my original mission.”

“Original mission? What was that?”

“Protecting you. Well, protecting everyone in my family. I have always been protective of my family, but the first night you were brought home changed how I handled that. The moment you laughed, I knew that I had to get stronger to keep all of you safe. I never thought that I’d use that strength against the very same person who brought me to want to become stronger. I’m not going to beat around the bush, we’ve been a shit family to each other these past years. We’ve hurt you, in ways that we may not even know. But, Tommy, if you let us, we can try to be the family you deserve.”

Tommy stared at his eldest brother, surprise painting his face. Blinking a few times, he switched his gaze over to both Phil and Wilbur, before returning it to Techno. Lightly biting his tongue, he took his gaze off of the pink haired warrior and faced the front, refusing to look at any of the three men walking beside him. Finally putting proper words together in his mind, Tommy spoke up once more.

“You all have hurt me in a handful of ways, that is true. But I’ve also hurt all of you, too. For all that, I’m sorry. As for not being a family, that can’t be solved quickly. This isn’t something we can speedrun into a healthy dynamic.”

“Tommy, we-”

“But that doesn’t we still can’t heal. If you are all willing to take the time and effort to work with all of us to fix our family, I’m willing to give you that chance. Oh, and Technoblade? You can call me Theseus, it is a part of my name, after all.”

Tommy couldn’t help but smile as the tension from the three men left their bodies, relief taking its place. Peering behind him, he made eye contact with his nephew, who stared back with worry. His worry, however, melted into a content smile as Tommy gave him a reassuring nod. Waving him over, Tommy smiled as Fundy excused himself, jogging up to be at his uncle’s sign.

“Hey, Tom- Hey!”

“Haha! Look at you, being all amazing!”

“Can you not be an embarrassing uncle for five seconds?”

“Nope!”

Fundy rolled his eyes at his uncle, laughing for a while before standing up straight. Ducking his head in nervousness, he gave a shy smile and wave to his grandfather, as well as his other uncle and father. Before words were exchanged, however, a frantic wail filled the air, catching Fundy’s attention immediately. Taking a few steps in front of everyone else, he kneeled down with arms open. Running towards him was Theo, wide eyes as he reached for his father, who lifted him into the air in an instant. Burrowing his face into the neck of his father, Theo dramatically wailed once more. The concern that once filled Fundy and Tommy had melted away at this. They now knew that he wasn’t in danger, he was just overreacting. The two of them would bet anything that a certain gremlin was behind this.

“Theo, what’s wrong, buddy?”

“SHE WAS GIVEN A SWORD, WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIIIIIIEEEEE!!!!!”

Fundy and Tommy gave each other a look, both unsure as how to respond to that. A shrill shriek of joy caught the entire group’s attention. There, frantically swiping a wooden sword in the air, came a joyful Clementine at full speed. Running up to Fundy, she began to jump up and down, sword waving in the air, as she tried to reach Theo, who had managed to climb on top of his father’s head.

“DON’T LET HER REACH ME, PAPA!!! SHE’S CRAZY WITH THAT THING!!!”

Theo shrunk behind his father’s hat as Clementine reacted to his statement by growling at the fox hybrid. Sighing, Tommy scooped up the rowdy child, who squealed as she hugged the sword.

“Clem, ya can’t go around swinging a sword at your cousin. And don’t ever hug an actual sword, ever, dear god. I’d like you to keep your fucking limbs, Jesus Christ.”

Clem only responded to this with a giggly smile, turning back to face her cousins. Fundy rolled his eyes as he plucked his son off his head, cradling him in his arm as Theo hugged his father’s hat in his chest.

“Clem, what do we say when we hurt someone or make them scared?”

“SUCK IT!!!”

“For fucks sake, Clementine, no. We say that to jackasses and assholes, not to your cousin. Try again, Clem.”

“Humph, sorry, TT.”

“Hm, okay! I forgive you, CC!”

Before the children, who were now conversing in their own secret language, were introduced to everyone, a concerned Grian and Kristin ran over. Once they saw the children, they physically relaxed.

“Thank goodness they came to you guys, we nearly panicked when they ran. Things were going great, but then Clementine whacked Grian on the foot before turning her attention to Theo.”

“It’s what we expected, this is Clementine we’re talking about.”

“Grian? Is that really you?”

Grian stiffened as he turned to face Phil, Wilbur and Techno staring at him in disbelief. Rubbing his arm in uncertainty, he watched as Phil walked up to him. Eyes scanning his face, Phil let out a strangled noise as he threw his arms around Grian, never expecting to see his first missing son after all the years that passed by. Grian let out a sigh as he hugged back, a smile painted on his face. Pulling away, he let out a laugh as he turned to his brothers. Shooting Tommy a look, Grian snickered at the nod of approval given to him. Turning back to Wilbur and Techno, he let out a hearty laugh as he yelled out words that Techno knew too well.

“OH, I’M PRESSING THAT HUG BUTTON!!!”

“Wait-”

Tommy wheezed out a laugh as Wilbur and Techno were pulled into a group hug by Grian, the triplets finally being reunited. It wasn’t until they heard the choked up and shy tone that came when Phil spoke.

“Kristin? How, uh, hey! How up? What’s you? Shit, wait, no. How are you?”

“Really? Decades separated, and this is the greeting I get.”

“I didn’t mean to be-”

“At least buy me dinner, sheesh.”

#memories in the stars #memories in the stars au #hermit!tommy au #hermit!fundy #hermit!Kristin #hermit!Tommy fankid #fwt fankid theo #mcyt fanfiction #PRESS THAT HUG BUTTON POG #Grian Wilbur and Techno are triplets au #Grian Wilbur Techno and Tommy are brothers au #Clementine and Theo are at it again #Pogs for the gremlin children

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter Ten

Summary: you finally get to visit the boys at the embassy. You and Javier finally get to consummate the relationship.

W/C: 6k+ (I’m sorry it’s the FINALE I had to)

Warnings: language as always, mentions of injury, SMUT! (18+ only), oral (m and f receiving), overstimulation if you squint, p in v sex, Javier Peña is his own warning when it comes to sex

A/N: YOU GUYS. this is it! I’m so honored that you guys love it as much as you do. This series was originally only supposed to be a oneshot but I just fell in love. I’m so glad I get to share it with you all! BIGGEST thanks to @remmysbounty for being my Colombian culture expert in this and helping me with my spanish phrases, listening to my ramblings, and generally being my editor and idea helper.

previous chapter | epilogue

“Ana, phone for you,” Lorena calls as you walk past the nurses’ station.

You nod, but you’re carrying a tray of medicine for a patient. “Can it wait?” You ask.

Lorena asks the person and then looks back up at you. “He says it’s quick.”

Sighing, you walk behind the desk. “Will you take this tray for me? Room 429,” you ask, and she nods dutifully, walking off with it after handing the phone to you. You answer the phone with your name, sitting in the chair Lorena was just in.

“Hey, it’s Steve,” a familiar southern voice says from the other end. You panic for a moment, wondering why he called you, but his voice seems relaxed. It can’t be anything too bad.

“Hey, what’s up?” You ask, twirling the phone cord around your finger, leaning forward with your elbows on the desk.

Steve chuckles. “Not much. Just Javi bein’ a dumb fuck.”

“What’s new?” You sigh, but you both know that both of you have affection behind your teasing.

“Exactly,” Steve says in agreement. “Anyway, Javi’s back at work, as you know. The bandage he has is falling off, and he says it’s fine but I know enough from Connie to know that’s not good. She said you get off work soon, would you bring some stuff to the embassy?”

You look at the watch at your wrist. He’s right. You get off at noon, and it’s about 10 right now. “Yeah, of course. Could I bring you guys lunch too? Eat with you?”

There’s a small snort from the other end of the line. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds great. Listen, though, there’s some real shitty guys around here. You’re gonna get hit on and Peña isn’t gonna be happy about it.”

“I’ll be wearing scrubs, Steve. What is there to talk about?” You ask dryly, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.

“Lonely and horny men desperate for an American woman aren’t above much. Just… lettin’ you know now.”

“I think I can handle it,” you roll your eyes, knowing he can hear it in your tone. “I’ll be there at 12:30 with lunch and supplies for Javi, alright?”

“Sounds good to me. Thank you, kid.”

“I’m, like, a few years younger than you. You act like you’re my dad.”

“Whatever,” he laughs and hangs up the phone.

After your shift, you enter Valeria’s diner. Her eyes light up as she sees you, rushing your way. “¡Ay, mi hermosita! ¿Quiubo, chiquita?” She asks, grabbing your arms.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you tell her genuinely with a smile. “I didn’t know if… the bombing, if it affected you. I’m so glad it didn’t.”

“And me with you! Especially that Javier, dios mio,” she shakes her head.

“Actually...” you chuckle a little. It’s a nervous laugh, afraid to tell her what happened. “Javi was injured. He and his partner were very near the bomb. He’s okay now, but he lost a lot of blood and had to have emergency surgery. He’s got a big scar here,” you tell her and trace along your abdomen where his injury was. “He’s back at work already, but he spent a few days in the hospital and about a week or two at home.”

Valeria frowns. “Oh no. I’m glad he‘s alright now. I worried so much about him, but I figured he lived since there were no American casualties.”

You nod. “Exactly. I’m actually on my way to the embassy now, bringing him some bandages, and I wanted to pick up lunch for him and his partner.”

The woman claps her hands together excitedly. “And here I am, blabbering on! I’ll go get an order in for you. What would you like, dear?”

You put in an order that you figure Javi and Steve would both like, waiting contently at a booth Valeria seats you at and sipping a coffee she brought to you.

The little restaurant makes you smile as you think about the memories. Laughing with Javier for hours in the early morning, sharing life stories and experiences. You realize now that you think you loved Javier even then, on the night when you sat a few booths over, wrapped in his leather jacket while his mustache collected little grains of sugar and cinnamon.

Not long after, Valeria comes to your table with two large bags of food. “I couldn’t help myself- I threw a few extra desserts and snacks in. Javier needs to eat more, tell him that I said that and that’s why there’s so much.”

You laugh happily and stand. “Well, thank you. I’ll make sure to pass the message along.”

She takes your payment and hands you a large to-go cup of coffee- you deserve it after such a long shift, she tells you- before sending you on your way. The embassy is a distance away, and you hail a taxi to make your way there. The car fills with the scent of the fresh food, making your stomach rumble. When you arrive, you pay the driver and head inside.

A receptionist sits just inside. “May I help you?” She asks politely and without much interest.

“Uh….” you hadn’t expected this step. “Yes. I’m here for Agents Murphy and Peña?”

She nods, grabbing the phone. She dials a number and talks, making a face of annoyance as she switches to speaking English. She must’ve dialed Steve. She hangs up not long after. “Murphy will be here in a moment,” she tells you with a nod, and you back away to allow the next person to talk with her.

Steve finds you about a minute later. “Hey. That’s a lot of food,” he chuckles as he looks at the large bags you’re carrying.

“I went to Javier’s favorite place. This one waitress there absolutely adores him, so she gave me extra because he doesn’t eat enough,” you inform him with a smile. “She even threw in some free desserts.”

“Jesus. We could feed the whole embassy with those,” he shakes his head, taking one from you to lighten your load.

You walk through hallways and several sets of stairs, before entering the office area and finally reaching the two desks, one messy and one neat. Javier sits at the cluttered one, looking up and eyes lighting as he sees you. “Hey,” he laughs and even dares to smile: a rare sight when he’s at work. “What are you doing here?” He asks, rolling his chair back from his desk and taking your hand.

“Steve said you needed bandages,” you shrug and hold up one of the bags.

He gives him a dirty look and the blonde man simply shrugs, sitting at his own desk.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. What’s all this then?” He asks, referring to the bags you and Steve carry.

You set one on a free space in his desk and untie the top of the bag, setting a takeout container in front of him. “Lunch,” you say simply, opening the styrofoam to release a drift of a delicious smell.

Javier sighs at the scent. “Did you see Valeria then? Is that why there’s so much food?” He asks with a little laugh.

You nod. “Exactly.”

Javier sighs and grabs a fork from the bag. “Here,” he says, pulling you to sit on one of his thighs. You squeal at the movement, laughing and grabbing the desk once you’re seated.

“At least warn me, huh?” You laugh and he steals a quick kiss from you, earning a whistle from a man who walks past.

“Wow, Peña has moved on from fucking the informants,” the man chuckles. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

You both glare at him, though he finds yours more intimidating than Javier’s. “Mm, we’re projecting our sexual frustration, are we?” You ask, taking a bite of food in your mouth with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t worry about us, run on home to the wife who doesn’t want your dick anywhere near her,” you say with a sweet smile, turning back to Javier’s desk and sipping your coffee.

The man walks away with wide eyes and Murphy laughs genuinely. “Holy shit,” he shakes his head and smiles.

“What? It’s clearly true,” you chuckle, looking back at Javier and taking another bite of the food in front of you. He’s got his heart in his eyes, barely managing to hold back a grin.

“I fucking love you,” Javi laughs contently, waiting you to finish chewing. When you do, he kisses you passionately for a moment, releasing you a few seconds later.

“You got some observational skills, kid,” Steve snorts and shoves a bite of food in his face. “We should get you working here.”

You roll your eyes. “What is your thing with calling everyone kid, Murphy?” Javier laughs, and you nod enthusiastically. You were just about to ask the same thing.

Steve opens his mouth to answer but the phone on Javier’s desk rings. “Peña.” He makes several noises of agreement before hanging up a few moments later. “Trujillo needs something. Be right back,” he tells the both of you and presses a kiss to your head. You stand to allow him to, and he kisses your lips quickly before speed-walking up the steps from the bullpen area and out to somewhere else.

You sit back down and both you and Steve continue eating your food. A minute or so later, a woman walks past but stops as she sees you. “Oh my God, Steve, is this Connie?” she asks, leaning against his desk.

“No, this is Peña’s girlfriend. She and Connie work together,” he informs her. Her face sours at the word girlfriend.

You tell the woman your name and shake her hand with a smile. “Peña has a girlfriend? My god,” she laughs lightly. Javier walks back down to his desk and the woman’s eyes light up. You stand so he can sit again. “Javier Peña, all settled down.”

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckles and sits, pulling you back onto his lap. You squeal again at the sudden movement, more so for the amusement of the woman in front of you. Laughing, you steady yourself on his desk. “Javi, warm a girl!” You chuckle, turning around to kiss him quickly. You’d discovered recently that you couldn’t get enough of it now that you were allowed to do it.

The woman shakes her head and chuckles as she walks away, heels clacking on the tile floor of the embassy.

Steve rolls her eyes. “Ah, Carolina. Last woman at the embassy Javi hasn’t fucked, and she’s been going after him for months.”

“Bullshit,” you and Javier say at the same time, laughing and turning around to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Bullshit to the fact that she’s the last woman here I haven’t fucked. Yeah, she’s been all over me,” he admits and nods.

“Well that’s too damn bad for her, isn’t it?” You laugh and offer Javier your cup of coffee.

He takes a swig and sighs. “Goddamn, this stuff tastes good. The coffee here is shit. We really need to do something about that,” he says to Steve, earning a shrug in response as he forks more food into his mouth.

The three of you eat in content silence, Javier keeping one arm wrapped around you as he eats. Steve flips through a file as he munches on his food too.

A couple of minutes later, a stone-faced bald man in army green fatigues walks. He raises an eyebrow as he sees you sitting on Javier’s lap.

You bite the bullet and introduce yourself first, telling him your name and offering a hand to shake. “Javier’s girlfriend.”

Javier chuckles at the man’s confused expression. “Yeah. Ángel, this is Trujillo. We work closely with him and his men. What else do you need?” He asks the man, turning the chair toward him.

“It can wait, I suppose, until after lunch. Wonderful to meet you, ma’am,” Trujillo says before walking off.

Javier shakes his head. “Now I see why the two of you can’t get shit done around here,” you tease and kiss the side of Javi’s head with a smile before taking the last bite of your food.

Not long after, the two men finish eating too. You stand from Javi’s desk. “Walk me out?” You ask him softly, and he nods. “I’ll see you later, Steve. Thanks for the invite,” you chuckle, taking Javier’s hand once you’re both standing.

As you walk through the halls, Javier is smiling. It’s a rare occurrence around the embassy, enough to draw stares. You smile proudly, lacing your fingers together as you walk. “So, Superman. I have a proposal,” you offer, looking up at him with big eyes.

“Shoot.”

“You get off work around six?”

“Sure do.”

“And I don’t work tonight.”

Javier chuckles as he looks down at you. “Where is this going, hm?”

You shrug a little. “All I hear about is how good you are in bed. How good of a lover you are,” you ask, looking up at him with a smirk. “Why don’t you prove it to me tonight, hm?” You ask, fingers tracing the seam where his buttons hold his tight shirt together- just barely.

“Oh god, cariño,” he murmurs. “I don’t know if my body is up to it yet, with the incision and-“

“I’m a nurse, Javi. Your nurse. I know medically that you’re stable by now. As long as it isn’t painful for you, we’re safe,” you tell him with a growing smile. “It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it?” You ask in a low voice, your hand sliding across the bare ‘v’ of his chest, exposed by his low-cut shirt.

“Yeah, it has.” Javier licks his lips as he looks down at you, a growing smile. “Your place. Sound good?”

“I’ve been waiting for this,” you admit with an excited grin, placing a kiss to his cheek as you reach the door. “You bring the protection,” you murmur next to his ear before kissing him softly on the lips. You break away and smile at his dazed face. “I’ll see you tonight. I love you,” You tell him and squeeze his hand.

“Fuck, I love you too, ángel,” Javi smiles and kisses your forehead, opening the door for you. “See you then.”

Six o’clock rolls around. You know Javier won’t come right from work, but you wait excitedly anyway. You treated yourself to a long hot shower, cleaning up and waiting. You’re dressed in a wrap dress and nothing else, waiting on the couch and trying to distract yourself with reruns of a telenovela. A bottle of whiskey and two glasses sit on your counter.

Surprisingly, a knock comes at your door around 6:15. You shout for them to enter and it’s Javier. “I thought you didn’t get off until 6:00,” you smirk a little as you look at him, closing the door behind himself.

“Steve covered for me. I left at 5, went home and showered, changed bandages and everything,” he chuckles, locking the door.

You smile and stand, walking over to him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “How kind of him,” you chuckle softly, an arm around his waist. “Listen, I thought about it. If you’re still in pain, this can totally wait,” you offer, looking up at him with big and concerned eyes.

“I’ve wanted this from the moment I met you, ángel,” he murmurs, putting both hands on your waist. “Nothing could hold me back now.”

You throw your arms around his neck as Javier’s lips crash against yours, in a deep kiss that wastes no time. You make a soft noise of content against his lips and that spurs him on, his hands roaming all across your body. He breaks away, eyes wild and lips swollen already. “How many times have you cum in one night?” He asks, smirking.

You can’t help but moan in response, kissing him again deeply, your mouth exploring his. He breaks away again. “Answer.”

“Uh… three. On my own. Only once with someone else,” you tell him breathlessly, your brain so wrapped up in him that it’s difficult to think about anything other than him.

“Alright, then four’s the goal,” he chuckles, kissing you deeply and pulling your hips against his. His hands grope your ass and you moan softly.

It’s already the best you’ve ever had and he hasn’t even touched you. The passion and love you have for each other is evident in how deep and intense every little movement is, from the way you drag your nails down the back of his neck to the way he smooths his hands over the curve of your ass, feeling no panties beneath the dress. “Fuck,” he murmurs into your lips.

“My bedroom, please,” you whine, breaking away from him.

He nods, glancing in the direction of the hallway that leads to your room. He catches sight of the bottle of whiskey. “What was that for?” He asks, breathlessly chuckling.

“Confidence,” you admit with a laugh. “Don’t know why I thought I needed it. Not with you.”

“Well, it’ll go perfectly with cuddling in your bed after, hm?” He murmurs, kissing behind your ear. You sigh softly at the feeling and he walks you along to your bedroom, backwards, until you feel the backs of your legs pressed against your bed. “Let’s see what’s under here,” he mumbles breathlessly, kissing at your neck as he frantically fumbles to untie the knot around your waist that holds the wrap dress in place. He’s clearly experienced at removing all kinds of clothing, and you can feel your arousal starting to slide down to your upper thighs.

“Javi,” you whimper, and he swears he’s never heard anything sweeter.

“Oh fuck, dulzura,” he shudders at the way you sound, lifting his head and catching your lips in another intense kiss as he slips the dress off of your shoulders and it falls to the floor. “No bra, no panties,” he chuckles as he looks down, finding your exposed body. “Let’s begin, shall we?” He mumbles, his lips trailing from behind your ear to your neck to your collarbone to between your breasts.

“Please,” you whimper and Javier pushes you to lie down on the edge of the bed, sinking to his knees and spreading your legs. “Javi,” you mumble, gripping your breasts.

He looks up at you and swears he could cum in his pants right now, just from the way you look spread out for him. You’re already dripping and he bites his lip as he takes a long look at you. “Fuck, ángel,” he says with a shudder, unbuttoning his shirt quickly. “Play with your tits for me,” he commands as he slips the shirt off his shoulders, revealing his toned chest and the large gauze bandage covering part of his equally muscular abdomen.

You nod, though it doesn’t do much at this angle, and he finally gives in. His last bit of self control leaves his body as he licks a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, moaning into you at the way you taste. You whimper and your hips squirm softly before Javier brings a large hand up, pinning you down. “Javi… go slow, please,” you murmur. “It’s… been a while.”

He nods. “I’ll do anything you tell me to,” he breathes out, dark eyes even darker with his widened pupils. He’s just as entranced by you as he was by those heavy drugs in the hospital, his mind foggy from the way you taste. His nose nudges at your clit, causing you to make a soft noise. Javier slips a thick finger inside of you, shuddering at the way your walls flutter around it. “God, that’s gonna feel so good around my dick,” he mumbles, slipping in a second finger and lapping at your clit.

“Fuck,” you whimper as he curves his fingers inside of you, one hand sliding into that dark hair, gripping it. “I lied. You don’t have to go slow, do whatever you want to me,” you shiver and whine out, bucking your hips up only for Javier’s hand to push them back down.

“Patience,” he mumbles, latching onto your most sensitive spot and sucking on it softly. His fingers push in a little deeper and curve against a spot you’ve never been able to reach yourself, wishing you had him to do it. You knew he would, with his reputation. Of course he would. He already feels like he knows every inch of your body, every sensitive little spot he can stroke to drive you wild. You squeal softly at the movement, your back arching. He smirks but continues, not bothering to stop and comment.

You’re already close, and it’s driving you wild, the other hand clutching at the comforter beneath you. “Not gonna last. Feels so good,” you murmur to him, almost ashamed at how quickly he’s going to make you reach your peak.

“Yeah? Tell me about it,” he mumbles into you, his eyes closing in concentration as his tongue works hard against your clit.

“Thought about this all the time. My fingers couldn’t get anywhere near as deep as yours, Javi,” you coo, brow furrowing. “Just wanted you inside of me, doing this to me. I thought about it every night since I met you,” you whimper. “Nowhere near as good- fuck, I’m about to-” you groan but it’s cut off as your orgasm washes over you, making your legs shake and your thighs clench around his head.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the word tumbles from your mouth over and over again as it washes over you. After you come down, there’s a delicious oversensitivity inside of you. Javier doesn’t let up. “Javi,” you murmur softly.

“Gonna get another out of you, ángel,” he murmurs for a moment before going back with renewed intensity. You thought it was perfect before, but the way he continues now allows you to feel every bud on his tongue, every line in his fingerprints inside of you, the way his fingers move at slightly different speeds as they drag against that spot deep inside of you.

Only a few moments pass before you’re there again, whining out his name as you feel something warm gush from deep within you. It’s all too good, all too much, feels like an electric wire threaded through your limbs and core. “Javi,” you shudder as you finally come to your senses. “I- uh, did I just-” you say, eyes widening as you see the damp spot beneath you.

“You sure fucking did,” he smirks, removing his fingers from inside of you and sucking on the two slick digits.

“I’ve never done that,” you admit, biting your lip.

“It means I’m doing something right,” he chuckles a little, sitting up to kiss you softly, slowly. You can taste yourself on his lips and it makes you moan as his tongue probes your mouth ever so gently. “It’s all good, baby. Wanna see if I can make you do that again?” He asks, a cocky grin on his face. “You were promised four.”

You shudder softly, hands on his shoulders. “I was,” you chuckle with the little oxygen left in your lungs. “What do you say…” you trail off, reaching between the two of you and palming at his denim-covered erection, “I take care of you, you get one more out of me, and then we finally fuck, hm?” you ask, recovering your senses.

“How could I say no to that?” he murmurs, kissing you deeply again. You squeeze softly at the bulge, and he makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. “How- I, what do-”

“Lie down up there,” you tell him and nod toward the pillows. When you stand, you tear the comforter off of your bed and toss it aside. “We’ll just have to sleep without that tonight.” He raises an eyebrow. “You are staying the night, right?” You ask, suddenly taken aback.

He nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah.” He pushes down his jeans and boxers and his dick springs free. He’s huge, not overly long but very thick, and you bite down on your lip to hold back a smirk. “Oh, you like this?” he chuckles a little, lying down with his arms above his head.

“Fuck,” you laugh softly, already imagining how he’ll feel inside. “Yeah, I do,” you nod and crawl onto the bed, lying down on your stomach between his spread legs.

You slowly trace a stripe along the underside of him, paying special attention to the frenulum and noticing the way his leg jerks beneath you. Adjusting yourself, you make big eyes up at him as you suck on the head, tracing the tip of your tongue against the little spot. “Fuck, you’re gonna have me cumming in seconds,” he laughs breathlessly. “You’re fucking amazing, baby,” he mumbles, his eyes slipping shut at the feeling. “Wait, stop, stop.”

You do exactly that, looking up at him with wide questioning eyes. “Yeah?”

Javier takes a deep breath and smirks. “You can make me cum with your mouth another time. I want this to be about you. Get up here and sit on my face.”

The boldness of his words makes your mouth fall open into a soft o-shape. You’ve certainly never done that before, but the idea is interesting. “It’ll be good, I promise. I already made you cum twice with my mouth, you know that,” he chuckles, stroking the side of your face.

“But…” Javier is much more experienced than you, you know that, so it must be fine, but there’s a little nagging insecurity inside of you. “What if I squirt again and, like, drown you?” you ask shyly.

Javier looks at you for a second before laughing softly. “No, it won’t. Come here, I can prove it to you if you’d like,” he offers, pushing a wisp of your hair back. The fact that you’re less experienced makes him even harder, if that’s physically possible, and you can feel it in your hand. He wants to do this, and that reassures you. You gulp and nod. “That’s my good girl,” Javi mumbles darkly.

You shudder at his words, your skin prickling. He can feel it. “Oh, you like that,” he murmurs. He scoots to lie flat on his back on the bed. “Come on up here, baby,” he says softly, and you agree.

You straddle his legs and gradually make your way over his body, careful to lift your hips as you pass over the incision. You’re hovering above his chest, looking down at him with the question in your eyes. “What if I like, crush your head?” You murmur and bite your lip.

“If you don’t want to, we won’t,” he mumbles, stroking your thigh. “Do you want to?” he asks.

“Yes,” you nod shyly. You’re not used to being this open about your wants.

“Then let me take care of you,” he murmurs, hands on your hips and pulling you gently. Inviting you onto his waiting lips.

You slide your hips the rest of the way and moan as his tongue finds your clit almost immediately. He moans back, entranced by you already. He puts on a bit more of a show, making loud noises and digging his fingers into your ass. He murmurs something into you but it’s lost in your folds as he lavishes your clit with his attention.

“Okay, I like this,” you admit with a breathless chuckle, moaning at the way his tongue works against you, his mustache tickles you, his nose nudges your clit when his tongue is elsewhere. You’re still hyper-sensitive from earlier, and you can tell. Your orgasm approaches rapidly, faster than it has ever before. You fall slightly forward, bracing yourself against the headboard as the tingling sensation builds.

“Gonna cum,” you warn him, panting heavily, your hands gripping the headboard tight. He makes a noise of approval and the vibrations from it cause you to let go, practically wailing his name. Your toes curl in pleasure, whimpering as it pulses through your body. It leaks from you before you can notice it, squirting into Javier’s mouth. He swallows every last bit of it, moaning at the way you taste.

Javier’s been so patient with you, putting everything about you first. He continues to eat you out as you come down from it. Eventually, you lift your hips, kneeling with your still-dripping pussy over his face. “You gonna fuck me now?” you ask, barely any air in your voice.

“Oh God yeah,” he chuckles, pressing one last kiss to your clit before pushing you over to lie next to him.

“Javi!” You squeal out with a laugh, falling next to him, his face by your legs. You’re giggling as you look over at him, hands on your bare stomach. “What if I would’ve landed on you and hit the incision?” you chide, though you both know it’s joking.

“It’d be worth it,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee. He stands with a groan, cracking his neck and grabbing the condom from the pocket of his jeans. He opens it and rolls it over his leaking dick, and you smirk as you look at it, adjusting yourself back where he was lying.

“You sure this’ll be okay with the abs?” you ask him as he walks back to your side, your fingers ghosting over the gauze-covered incision.

He nods. “Yeah. You ready?” He asks, a hand cupping your face to look up at him.

“I’m waiting on the fourth,” you tease, giving his dick a gentle tug and earning a groan. “Now get on top of me and fuck me, Superman,” you say with a seductive smile, licking your lips.

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles softly, propping his arms up on either side of you and nestling his hips between your legs. You can feel his dick pressing against your folds, and you grind your hips up into his. He moans, shivering hard. “Oh fuck. You better know it’s not gonna take long,” he tells you. “Fuckin’ dreamed about this for so long. First time I saw those tits bouncing on the treadmill, your ass when you were doing those squats,” he admits, hand running up your side and pinching a nipple as he finally admires your bare body beneath him.

“Get poetic later, get inside me now,” you beg of him, leaning up and kissing him deeply. He paws at a tit and you whine into his lips, harder when he rolls a nipple between two fingers. “Don’t tease,” you plead, spreading your legs wider.

He finally slides in and swears he’s seeing stars from the second the head is past your entrance. He groans out before he can stop himself, and you involuntarily make a matching sound. “Javier,” you cry, the way he stretches you making your already dripping pussy even wetter.

He nods. “Yeah baby,” he mumbles next to your ear.

“Start moving, I’m ready, come on,” you urge, nipping at his earlobe that dangles just above your lips. He shivers at the feeling and nods, pulling out and pushing back in. The first thrust and he’s already holding back.

He moans your name quietly, starting a slow but steady rhythm, pounding in and out of you. He looks down and bites his lip as he sees the way your tits jiggle with his thrusts. “Oh, ángel,” he groans. You bend up and kiss at his neck, daring to work a mark into the skin. “Yeah, that’s my girl, marking me up. Want that girl at the embassy to see it when I’m at work tomorrow, don’t you?” he grunts, breathing heavily already.

“All mine, no one else’s.”

“All yours, baby,” he nods, thrusting harder. “Give ‘em something to talk about, mark me up,” he groans, his eyes almost rolling back in his head from the feeling. You nod, leaving love bites and hickeys all over the smooth skin of his neck, the skin that smells like aftershave and soap and cigarettes and his sweat.

He reaches a hand between the two of you and rubs circles into your clit in time with the thrusts. “Oh, fuck do I love you, baby,” he groans. “You gonna come again?”

You’re embarrassingly close already, and the fact that he can tell is even hotter. “Yeah,” you whine into the thick column of his neck.

“Good girl, gonna squirt around me?”

“Yeah,” you whimper again, hips grinding against his hand. “Love you so much, Javi.”

“Love you too. Go for it, baby. Do it,” he asks of you, and who are you to deny him of the sensation in the moment? You stop holding back, your walls fluttering around him and your pussy leaking as your whole body tenses.

“Javi,” you cry into his ear, clinging to the back of his head and pulling him down to where you’re now lying flat, limp as a rag doll from his ministrations.

“That’s my girl,” he coos in his gravelly voice, biting down on his lip. “So good, fuck, love you baby,” he grunts in time with sporadic thrusts as he finally spills into the condom, an animalistic cry coming from his throat.

His thrusts slow and he gradually pulls out of you, lying down and pulling you into his side. “Would you believe me if I said that’s the best I’ve ever had?” He pants out, kissing the side of your head.

You drape an arm across him. “It’d be an honor,” you chuckle softly.

“It was,” he tells you honestly, this time kissing your lips. “God, I fucking love you,” he tells you with a dazed smile, eyes slipping shut.

He’s so sexy like this, sweat beaded on his forehead and dark hair stuck to it. He’s fucking beautiful is what he is, like a work of art with those swollen lips and the developing bruises on his neck. He’s your personal masterpiece. You’ve done all of those things to him, made him fill that condom, hell, you put those stitches in yourself before he left the hospital. He’s fully and truly yours. “I love you too, Javi,” you tell him, pressing your lips together in a smile as your eyes water.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks quickly as his eyes open.

“I just love you so much,” you admit with a watery voice. “That was the best I’ve ever felt, and you let me ask stupid questions, and you did this all even though I thought you were gonna bleed out in my arms a couple of weeks ago.” You bury your face where his chest meets his arm, the tears freely running.

“Ángel,” he coos and kisses your head. “You are the entire world, you know that? You saved my fucking life, not just from the shrapnel. I would’ve drank and smoked and worked myself to death if you didn’t come in.”

“And I would’ve died from that cold,” you add with a weak giggle.

“And you would’ve died from that cold,” he chuckles and lifts your head. “I love you so much. No solo como te quiero, como te amo.”

There’s a difference in the way Spanish speakers say “I love you” that native English speakers cannot understand. We say I love you to our dogs, to our partners, to our sisters and parents and to our lovers and spouses. It’s all the same way to say it: I love you. In Spanish, there is te quiero and te amo. Javier might say te quiero to his father, to Connie when she brings him food during a rough hangover. Never in his life has the man said te amo and meant it. Not to Lorraine, not to any girl he ever held in his arms as he pounded her senseless. Never, except to you.

And you can feel it in the way he presses a tender kiss to your face, in the way a tear drips from his eye and onto your forehead. He loves you in the way that inspired the greatest artists to write sonnets and plays and make beautiful art, the way that Escobar would do anything, would kill for his beloved Tata, the way Romeo and Juliet loved and fell hard and didn’t care about the repercussions and died for love of each other.

“Javi,” you coo, looking into his big brown eyes that are brimming with tears. “Te amo también, te amo, y nunca lo olvides.”

thanks for reading!

translations:

quiubo- what’s happening, what’s up

Chiquita- girl, girlfriend

dulzura- sweetheart

Y nunca lo olvides- and don’t you ever forget it.

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @diogodxlot @wonderlandgabby @yooforia @sara-alonso @dodgerandevans @pedrosmustache @apascalrascal @tanyaherondale @marydjarin @obsessivelysearching @sleep-tight1 @drinkingwhileblogging @pedro-pastel @notabotiswear @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #narcos fanfic #narcos #blood sweat and tears #pascalpanic

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xbaepsae · 5 years ago

Text

it’s complicated (m)

“You are long past the point of no return. The rational part of you is screaming that this is a terrible idea, that this is bound to ruin your friendship with Tae. But you can’t find it in yourself to really care. You want him, so badly you are about to burst.”

[taehyung x reader]

genre: friends with benefits!au, eventual friends to lovers!au, a lot of angst, smut

word count: 14.4k

rating: mature

warnings: loss of virginity, toxic relationship, confused/frustrated characters, unprotected sex (10/10 don’t recommend), oral, creampie, language, mentions of alcohol

a/n: this is a reupload! i honestly wasn’t going to post this fic again, because i have so many other new ideas i want to write about, but i reread this the other day and it’s actually so good?? lol. i wrote it so long ago, but wowowow i still felt the angst in my soul. also, fyi, like all of my reuploads, i’ve changed a few things (not the overall plot tho). xoxo

It all began in tenth grade English class.

At first, Kim Taehyung seems any other kid in your class—perhaps, a little loud at times but still just a boy. But that was just until you were partnered with him on a project. Least to say, you two became fast friends once you realized how funny the guy was. He could bring a smile to your face no matter the circumstances.

This friendship between you two blossomed quickly; but soon, there’s a slight shift in the air around you both.

“Y/n,” Taehyung says your name, sprawled on your bed with you.

It’s summertime, which means days seem to drag on and on. This also means that you two have nothing better to do, choosing to lazily lounge around each other’s houses. Your parents are never home anyway since they worked, so having Tae’s company is always greatly appreciated.

But despite the lackluster summer, school starts in a few weeks and the thought is bittersweet. You are happy to be occupied again, but also sad since going back to school means you no longer get to spend so much time with Taehyung. Although you both became close at school, that doesn’t mean you’ll always get to be around each other there.

“What?” you ask, turning to look at him.

“So, this might sound a little weird…but…” he trails off. “Fuck. I can’t; it’s too weird.”

You turn so you’re lying on your side, “What is it, Tae? We’re friends, right? You can tell me anything.”

Taehyung glances at you, clearly struggling with himself.

“I-I…can I kiss you?” he asks the question so fast you think maybe you just imagined it. But when you notice that his face is beat red, you realize that you did hear him right. This causes you to flush as well, a weird sensation beginning to bubble through your body.

“Where is this coming from?” you manage to ask him.

“I don’t know,” Tae admits with a shrug.

You find yourself shifting awkwardly on the bed as silence starts to fill the room. What are you supposed to say? Taehyung is your friend; you enjoy being around him and he makes you smile. But he wants to kiss you…what is that even supposed to mean?

“You know what?” he suddenly breaks the ice. “Forget I even said—”

“Okay,” you cut him off fast, not even fully registering what you say.

Taehyung snaps his head to you, mouth dropping, “What?”

“I said okay—you, I mean, we can kiss.”

You say all of this relatively calm, despite the fact that you feel like your whole body is on fire. Tae stares into your eyes, seemingly searching for something. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” you gulp nervously. “I mean, this is just for fun, right?”

Something passes over Taehyung’s eyes, but you don’t catch it fast enough. The emotion fades away and you can only assume it didn’t mean anything.

“Yeah…fun,” he says, licking his bottom lip.

Unintentionally, your eyes travel down to his plump lips and you can’t seem to look away. Has he always had such nice lips? You find yourself asking all these questions that you don’t even notice how close Tae has gotten to you, merely inches away. His breath gently fans across your face and the reality of the situation hits you. This is going to be your first kiss…ever. And to say you are freaking out would be an understatement. It’s not that you so much oppose the idea of kissing, you just haven’t met the right guy.

Looking into the eyes of your friend, you feel warmth flood your cheeks. “Tae…”

He blinks, “Yes?”

“Have you ever kissed someone?” The question rolls off your tongue.

Instead of answering your question, Tae does something else you don’t expect. Of course, you know it was going to happen eventually, but the action simultaneously takes your breath away and surprises you.

He kisses you.

Your eyes close on their own accord, reveling at how soft his lips are as they cover yours. A part of you almost can’t believe that you’re kissing him—Kim Taehyung; your friend, the boy you do everything with. What’s most unbelievable is that you actually like kissing him.

As the kiss becomes deeper, you feel yourself being pushed against the bed; Tae’s body covering half your own. You open your mouth a little wider, letting his tongue press against your own. His hands are now on each side of your body, slightly tangled in your hair. After a while you pull away, gasping for air.

“Oh my god,” you mutter breathlessly, blowing some air out of your mouth.

Taehyung is still above you.; and when you look into his eyes, you almost jerk away. “Y/n…”

“Hmm?” you ask, shy all of the sudden.

And then it hits you—he probably thinks your unexperienced ass is a bad kisser. This thought makes you feel like a total fool. It’s just flat out embarrassing because you surprisingly liked kissing him and he thought you—

“Can I kiss you again?”

You almost fall off your bed. “What?”

He lowers his head until his hair brushes your face, “I’d like to kiss you again…”

At his words, you can feel your whole body flush from a mixture of relief, excitement, and embarrassment.

“So…I’m not a bad kisser?” you find yourself asking.

Tae snaps his gaze to you, “What would you think that?”

“I-I,” you feel your ears getting hot, “I don’t know. I just thought that since…you know…I’ve never kissed someone, I probably sucked.”

Before you can explain yourself some more, he captures your lips again—effectively silencing you. This kiss is a lot quicker than the first one, but it leaves you just as dizzy and at a loss for words.

“You’re great,” he says, a cheeky smile gracing his face. You can’t help but return the smile since his is just so contagious.

The rest of this day is spent with more so-called just-for-fun kisses. The highly rational part of you claims that this is all normal—that making out with your friend is completely fine; but the emotional part of you knows that everything will never be the same—that making out with your friend is sure to have its consequences.

***

When school starts again, you almost forget about Taehyung’s kisses.

The keyword is: almost.

In your busy school schedule, you manage to somehow snag a free period. It’s a godsend, especially since you needed a study hall period to balance all the homework you had. Since it was a free period, you can spend the hour anywhere in the school. And you end up choosing one of the back corners of the library where the reference books are.

No one ever comes to this part of the library anyway, except for the librarian but that was rare. So, it’s nice and quiet. You spend the first few days of study hall doing what study hall is supposed to be used for—studying and completing homework. But as the end of the first week rolls around, you discover that study hall might not be so quiet anymore.

This particular day of study hall starts off normal. You arrive at the library, which is pretty much empty except for a few scattered students here and there, and make your way to the corner you’ve pretty much claimed as your own. When you reach that part of the library, you set your things down and pull out your homework. Just as you start the fifth problem on your calculus worksheet, someone suddenly covers your eyes.

You let out a scream, but it’s muted by a hand. You begin to furiously kick and you turn around, prepared to fight. And just as you bring your hands up, your eyes regain their sight and you see who is responsible for the unexpected attack.

“Taehyung!” you scream, and he covers your mouth again.

“Be quiet, y/n!” he reprimands. “Don’t you know this is a library?”

With his hand still over half your face, you roll your eyes. When he finally removes his hand, you roughly shove the boy. “What the fuck, Tae?!”

“What?” he asks rather innocently.

“What?” you mock. “Why did you have to do that? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

He just shrugs and takes a seat beside you, “I just wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

You return your attention back to your worksheet, ignoring him. You manage do a few more problems before Tae speaks again. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?”

You don’t even look up. “I honestly don’t care.”

“I mean, are you not the least bit curious as to why I’m not in class right now?”

“No, I don’t care why you’re not—” you snap your head up. Holy shit. “Why aren’t you in chemistry?”

The moment you two received your schedules, you compared classes. Unfortunately, you both wouldn’t share any classes together until after winter break. And while you had your free period, Taehyung was supposed to be in chemistry…so, why is he here in the library?

When he doesn’t respond, you freak out a bit, “Oh my god, Tae! Why are you skipping class? Your teacher is going to be so—”

Taehyung interrupts you by suddenly placing a chaste kiss in your lips. You’re struck speechless for a moment, completely caught off guard.

“I switched my class,” he says with a smile.

“Why did you do that?”

“So I could do this for a whole hour,” he says, then places another kiss on your lips.

You laugh at his words, “You know we can’t actually do that, right? I really need this study hall to do homework.”

He absentmindedly waves his hand, “Yeah, yeah—you can do that too, I guess.”

“Are you serious though? You really changed your class just to come here and make out with me?” As you ask your questions, you are just teasing him. But at the same time, a smidge of you feels a bit dejected if all he wants to do is kiss you.

Not that you didn’t like kissing Taehyung, because all the kissing you two had been doing is great, but it made your relationship seem superficial if that was the only reason.

“Of course not,” he assures you. “I also really just want to spend time with you too. To go from spending every day together to practically not seeing each other is weird.”

“Agreed,” you smile. “How did you find me anyway?”

It was a logical question. Although Tae did know before that you had study hall, you never told him where exactly you spent your days.

“I just followed you from your last class,” he says like it’s nothing, but your eyes widen.

Another what the fuck leaves your mouth as you stare at your friend, “You’ve been in here the whole time?”

“I mean, I had to find where you were somehow,” he tells you. “By the way, you walk so damn fast.”

You roll your eyes at the boy, not understanding him at all. Even though he had unconventional ways of doing things, in the end, he still made you smile. For the rest of the hour, you somehow find the time to finish your math worksheet in-between the kisses that Taehyung keeps giving you. When the bell rings, signaling the end of the hour, you begin to back up your things.

“Where you headed to now?”

You look at Tae and tell him where, even though he knows the answer already, “English. You?”

Health. “Health.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy that…”

“The teacher isn’t that bad,” he smiles as you give him a look.

“He’s terrible,” you say. “End of discussion.”

Taehyung picks up his bag, smile still ever present, “Just because you didn’t make an A—”

“End of discussion.”

You sling you backpack around your back and begin to walk away. But before you can even get far, something pulls you back. You land right onto Taehyung’s chest; being this close to him, you can feel the slight muscle definition under his flimsy uniform and warmth pools in your chest.

“What?” you ask, turning around.

“Have a good rest of your day,” he says. “See you here tomorrow?”

Nodding, you open your mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by Tae’s kiss that he gives before dashing away. He leaves you alone scattered brain and at a loss for words.

“…See you,” you say once your brain can finally function again. “Tomorrow.”

***

Afternoons spent in the library become something you look forward to everyday.

Even though it’s only an hour, it’s an hour you cherish with Taehyung. Some days, all you do is homework—completely ignoring the poor boy who simply wanted your attention; and other days, you two talk and talk and talk about anything and everything. There is never a dull, quiet moment between you two. There is always something to be shared; to be told.

Because of this, your admiration for the boy grows more and more each day.

You are captivated by the stories he tells you in that vacant part of the library. From the way his animated eyes light up to the wide curve of his boxy grin, an hour never feels long enough. As he tells you his stories, all you can do is stare and smile. You’ve only known Taehyung for a few months, but it feels like you two have been friends forever.

…Friends who kiss, a little voice in your head always likes to remind you.

Kissing. You two are doing that quite a lot now. Every chance he has, he plants his lips on to yours. The action makes you swoon and confused all at the same time. You just don’t get it. It’s not that you don’t enjoy all the kissing, but it’s confusing. Does Taehyung like you? Or does he not? And it’s that you want to be with him, as his girlfriend…though perhaps a small part of you does, but you want him to be clear about his relationship with you.

And that clarification never comes.

Tae continues with the kisses, and you just learn to accept the fact that maybe your friend just likes to kiss you. It get to the point where you no longer even question or become surprised when the action appears out of nowhere.

But little do you know that this is just the beginning of something tragic.

***

In the blink of an eye, the fall semester ends.

You and Taehyung rejoice as you both finish it rather decently; getting good marks in all of your classes. Celebrations are in the making, but a spontaneous trip from your parents brings all plans to a halt.

“You’re going where?” Taehyung asks you, eyes wide and mouth parted.

“To spend the holidays with my aunt who lives in the States,” you repeat, not able to look him in the eyes.

You two have been laying in his bed playing video games, until you dropped the bomb on him. And it’s not like you’ve known about the trip for a while, you just found out from your parents yesterday. Honestly, you hadn’t planned to do much during break. If anything, you just wanted to spend time with Tae and catch up on sleep. But then your parents surprised you, and you couldn’t say no.

“B-But…that’s an entire ocean away.”

You look at the boy who has easily become your best friend, “I know—and it’s not like I really want to go, but I haven’t seen my aunt in a while. Plus, my parents already bought me the ticket and—”

“It’s okay,” he cuts your explanation off, a strained smile encasing his face. “You enjoy visiting your aunt.”

“Tae…” you know he’s probably really mad.

He only shakes his head “No, really, it’s not like we didn’t already makes plans to hang out or anything.”

“Taehyung,” now you find yourself getting mad. “Stop.”

“I’m just bummed, y/n. What am I supposed to do during break now?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. Go to a party, get drunk, and maybe kiss a few girls.”

As you say the last part, your heart starts hammering in your chest. You don’t even know why you said it at all since you can’t even begin to imagine it happening. Just the thought of another girl kissing Tae makes you green with jealously. But you know you don’t even have the right to feel such things; you aren’t his keeper.

You wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I was joking,” you attempt to laugh, but it sounds forced. “But really—have fun. You don’t need me for that.”

And that’s when he gives you a look that nearly paralyzes you. His gaze is filled with so many emotions you can’t decipher, and it travels down to your core. He stares at you for so long you feel your blood pressure start to spike.

“I guess,” he says in a lower voice. You don’t know what else to say, so silence begins pooling in his room. It becomes too much to handle so you get off the bed.

“I should go,” you say, awkwardly getting your things. “I still have to pack.”

“Are you leaving tomorrow?” Taehyung doesn’t even look at you; instead, he stares at the ceiling.

You’re about to nod, but then catch yourself. “Yeah, I am.”

“When do you get back?”

Hesitation gnaws at your lips, “The day before school starts again.”

You search your friends face for a sign—any sign—but he’s completely passive. A sigh leaves you lips as you back out of his room. When you reach the door, you stop and brace yourself against it.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize for reasons you don’t even really understand. But Tae is still in the same position and doesn’t even glance your way. You sigh again before muttering a soft goodbye and leaving.

The entire time you’re away, you don’t get a single message or phone call from him.

It wouldn’t have affected you so much if you knew why. Obviously, Taehyung is mad at you, but you didn’t know the reason. And the boy has never been angry at you before; so you don’t know how to deal or how to make it better.

Even though you don’t know why he hasn’t tried to contact you, it doesn’t stop you. When you landed in the States, you texted him. On Christmas Eve, you called three times. On Christmas day, you called and left a ridiculously long voicemail—along with a few extra texts as well. Despite these efforts, you get nothing; you don’t even know if he’s reading these texts because he doesn’t have his read receipts on.

So, a few days before New Year’s, you decide to go home early. You don’t want to end the year on a bad note with Tae, and you also don’t want to start the year off not speaking. Somehow, you manage to get back the afternoon of New Year’s Eve. And the second you get home, you go to his house.

Knocking on the front door like a maniac, you pray that he hadn’t taken your advice and decided just to lounge around his house over break. Your heart is beating erratically as his mom answers the door.

“Oh, hi y/n,” she greets you with a warm smile. “How was your trip?”

“Hey, Mrs. Kim; it was good. Is Taehyung home?” you cut right to the chase.

But disappointment begins to fill you when her smile falters, “I’m sorry, y/n; he’s actually hasn’t been home all day.”

You nearly fall to the ground at her words. “What? Do you know where he is?”

“I’ve tried calling him, but he hasn’t answered. I guess he didn’t know you were coming home?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t supposed to be home for another few days,” you admit, and his mother nods. “I-I just couldn’t…I mean…I just…I missed him.” Saying the words out loud brings a weight off your shoulders, but also makes your chest ache.

“He’s missed you too,” she says, smiling again. “He’s been sulking around the house this entire month—I think today’s the first day he’s been out.” They do say that mothers know best, so knowing that Taehyung missed you makes your heart soar high.

“Do you have any idea where he might be?” desperation laces your words.

Mrs. Kim shakes her head, “He has old friends, but I don’t think he’s talked to them since meeting you.”

Why is this so difficult? You continue your conversation with his mom to think about the boy’s whereabouts, but soon realize how late it’s gotten. You figure that you should probably just go home. So, feeling a bit defeated, you wish his mom a Happy New Year and walk back to your house.

On the way there, you run through various places he might be. You try to think back to before you left—to the plans you two made together. Did he mention anything in particular that he wanted to do? You replay old conversations and then it suddenly hits you like a freight truck. Quickly, you whip out your phone and call Yoon, one of your childhood friends.

After three rings, she picks up, “Hello? Y/n…?”

“Hey…” you trail off.

On the other end, you can hear a heavy bass thumping, “Well, I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

You tell her that you can’t hear anything she’s saying, so she moves somewhere quieter and repeats her words. You can’t help but roll your eyes at her petty tone. “Like you even have time for me. You and your boyfriend are always—”

“So, what’s up?” she cuts you off and you laugh a bit.

“Where are you?”

“At a party at Jay’s house, why?”

Bingo. “Thanks, that’s all I needed to know.”

“Woah,” you hear her say, “is little miss goody-two-shoes going to make an appearance?”

“We’ll see,” you tell her.

After hanging up, you run the rest of the way home. The party Yoon was at was hosted by the one and only Jay. He’s a senior at your school and notorious for his parties. They are the best, but exclusive to upper-classmen—juniors and seniors only. Everyone couldn’t wait until they were promoted to those grades.

The one thing you remember Tae saying was that he wanted to attend one this year—that’s where he has to be tonight.

***

As you walk up the steps to Jay’s elaborate mansion, it was beyond huge, you feel your nerves twist up in a bundle. You figured that since this is a party, albeit a New Year’s Eve party, you should probably look somewhat nice—just so you kind of blend in. You opt for a black dress that hugs whatever curves you do have and your basic strappy heels. Hopefully no one’s going to question you.

When you reach the door, you’re surprised to find that it opens easily. Walking in, you’re blown away by the sheer amount of people. You thought that since the house is so big, there would be room inside. Wrong. People are packed wall-to-wall.

As soon as the door shuts behind you, you see Yoon standing not too far from you. Relief fills you at the sight of a familiar face. You call out her name and she, thankfully, hears, turning around to your direction.

“Y/n!” she exclaims, running up to you. “You look sexy!”

You feel a blush creep onto your face, “Thanks?”

“Who you dressing up for?”

“I’m just trying to blend in,” you say, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “But can you help me find someone?”

“So, there is someone,” she wiggles her brows. “Who?”

“Taehyung,” you say his name all too fast.

“As in Kim Taehyung?” Yoon raises a brow. “Is he that guy you’ve been hanging out with?”

“What other Taehyung is there? Have you seen him? I think he’s supposed to be here. God I hope—”

Yoon places a hand over your mouth, “Clam down, tiger. I’ll ask one of Jay’s friends—they know everybody.”

You watch as she walks away from you and to a guy a few feet away. She whispers something in his ear and he nods, whispering something back. Yoon seems pleased with the answer and comes back to you.

“So?” you ask impatiently.

“They say he’s here,” you immediately brighten up, feeling like a genius for guessing his location right, “but they don’t know where exactly he is.”

Your eyes automatically begin searching the room, “That’s okay; I’ll find him. Thanks again Yoon.”

Before Yoon can say anything else, you’re lost in the crowd of sweaty people. As you walk through the crowd, your eyes desperately search for his. This is going to be impossible—there are so many people here. You walk through the numerous living areas and even the kitchen, but there’s no sign of Tae anywhere.

After a while, you check the time and see that it was an hour until midnight; an hour till the start of the New Year. And you’re on the verge of going back home. The feeling of jet lag is starting to weigh you down as the adrenaline begins to drain away. The flight back home was long, and you couldn’t really sleep due to the anticipation of everything that awaited you here.

You are now walking down some hallway, the music of the party booming behind you. The sense of direction’s completely loss to you—you have no idea where you were. But just as you’re about to reach the end of the hall, someone comes up behind you.

They grab ahold of your body and drag you into an open room. You scream, kicking your attacker. You try to fight the person, but they’re no match for your puny self. On the verge of tears, you’re about the give up when the person finally speaks, “Y/n…”

You freeze. You would know that voice anywhere. “Tae?”

The attacker lets you go and you slowly turn around, shocked to see the face of your friend. But the shock soon fades into something strange when you take in his appearance—the boy actually looks nice. His hair is disheveled in that messy, but put together, way and his clothes sexily cling against him. You feel your mouth drop open, but you pick it up just as quickly as it falls.

Suddenly, you push him, and he stumbles, “What the hell?”

“Why do you always feel the need to sneak up on me? Asshole,” you cross your arms.

He cracks a smile, “You’re just fun to mess with.”

“It’s not fun for me, you jerk. I was seriously freaked out.”

Taehyung softens at your words, “I’m sorry; I just wanted to surprise you.”

And that’s when you remember why you’re even here at all. You suddenly feel awkward, not knowing where to look.

“Why…why didn’t you return any of my calls?” you ask him, staring at the floor. “I mean, I know you’re mad. But you couldn’t text me back?”

You sneak a look at him, and find that he’s staring intently at you.

“And like, I don’t even know why you’re mad at me. What did I do wrong? Was it because I went away? Or was it something I did? I just—”

Tae cuts you off with a kiss that causes you to nearly trip on your own feet. The kiss is intense and you feel him back you against the wall, encasing your body with his. You haven’t kissed him in nearly a month; you’ve forgotten how it feels like, how alive he makes you feel.

His hands begin traveling up your body, each touch igniting a fire inside of you. He stops when he reaches your face, his long fingers roughly cupping your cheeks. You bring your own hands to tangle in his hair and gently tug him closer to you. His starts to rub little circles on your cheeks, while simultaneously prodding your mouth further open. You oblige and feel his tongue massaging yours.

Suddenly, you let out a moan as Tae presses his body right onto yours. Despite the layers of clothing between the two of you, you can still feel the body heat coming off of him. At your moan, he freezes for a moment before kissing you back with much more force. He pulls the two of you away from the wall and you both fall onto a bed.

The dress you’re wearing begins to ride up, but you don’t care at all; you just want to be closer to him, needing to be closer to him. You pull away from his lips to breathe and he takes that opportunity to latch his lips onto your jaw, slowly moving down your neck. Another moan leaves your lips and you try to think, but your mind is complete mush right now.

All you can do is lay there as Tae begins to suck on your neck. Although you two had kissed multiple times before, things have never gone this far.

“Tae…” you say a bit breathlessly, his finger now pushing the straps of your dress down. He mutters something incoherent, mouth on the swells of your breast. “What are we doing?”

He stops, raising his head, “I’m worshiping your body, what else?”

You redden as his comment.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, a brow raised. When you simply shake your head, his lips travel back to your chest.

Without even realizing it, you start to move your hips against his. A pleasurable pressure starts building up and you whimper at the feeling. Taehyung stop his assault on your skin, eyes now looking into yours. As he stares at you, his fingers play with the zipper on the side of your dress.

“This dress is awfully pretty on you,” he licks his lips. “But I think it’ll look prettier on the floor, don’t you think?”

And faster than you can even comprehend his words, the dress is unzipped from your body and you’re left half-naked in your underwear. Impulse kicks in and you try to cover your body at the sudden lack of coverage. But Tae takes your arms, pinning them above your head.

“So beautiful,” he muses, eyes darkening.

You writhe underneath him, not liking the fact that you’re nearly naked while he’s still completely clothed. When you tell him this fact, he releases your arms and begins to unbutton his shirt. You can’t help but stare at his golden skin and his broad shoulders. He reaches for the waistband of his pants, unbuttons it, and then tugs the fabric down his legs.

Tae smirks at your obvious staring and leans down to kiss you again. The rest of your clothing, or whatever was left, comes off and you’re both left completely exposed to each other. Now without all the clothes between you two, you can feel every ridge of his body and desire threatens to burst out of your body.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks you again, resting his forehead against yours.

You shake your head, “No.”

“Are you sure?” his eyes search your face. “Because if we start, I-I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

Grabbing his face between your hands, you kiss him, “I’m sure.”

You are long past the point of no return. The rational part of you is screaming that this is a terrible idea, that this is bound to ruin your friendship with Tae. But you can’t find it in yourself to really care. You want him, so badly you are about to burst.

Even though you assure Tae that you want this, he still hesitates above you. As he rolls a condom on, you lightly kiss his jaw and tell him that you’re okay. But although you say this, you feel your body tense as he nears your entrance. This is your first time after all, and you realize Taehyung is becoming a lot of your firsts. When he finally enters you, you scrunch up your face from the initial discomfort. “Ow.”

“Shit,” you hear Tae mutter, stopping halfway.

“It’s okay,” you bite your bottom lip. “Keep going.”

He pushes the rest of the way, “You’re so fucking tight.”

You still feel a sense of discomfort, especially since Tae’s large size fills you up to the brim. Despite this, you tell him to keep moving in hopes that maybe the awkwardness will fade into something better. And a few thrusts in, it does feel better—a lot better.

Tae’s pace is still rather slow, but the pleasure starts to build up and he drops his head into the crook of your shoulder. You moan for him to go faster but he doesn’t, probably due to the fear of hurting you.

So you tighten your legs around him, “Tae—harder, faster.”

Something in him snaps and his thrust become shorter, but quicker. The force causes your eyes to roll back and you cry out at how good it feels, “Fuck.”

He groans your name, one hand roughly digging into your hips. It all feels so good, and you’re surprised by how vocal you are—a moan always seems to be leaving your mouth. But you don’t care at all if anyone hears. You continue to moan as you feel your peak building. Sweat rolls down both of your backs, and you can feel Tae’s thrusts getting sloppy.

“Ohmygod,” you say in a single breath. “I’m gonna—”

And just as you’re about to say the words, waves of ecstasy crash down on you. You cry out Taehyung’s name, the feeling completely indescribable. He continues to ride out your high before reaching his own. After he releases, he falls on top of you and presses a gentle kiss on your neck. You both don’t say anything for a few moments, still trying to catch your breaths.

“Are you okay?” Tae is the first to speak. He mumbles this question into your neck.

You nod your head, “Yeah…are you?”

“I’m…good. Better than good, actually,” he raises his head, smiling. “You’re beautiful, y/n.”

You blush at his words, not knowing how to respond.

“But, you are quite loud though,” he says. “I’m sure the entire house heard us.”

He laughs and you push him away, forgetting that he’s still inside of you. You both moan from the loss of contact, feeling sort of empty now. Once he’s away from you, you remember just how naked you are and rush to pull the blankets over your body. But you wince a few times due to the soreness you feel.

“What are you doing?”

“Covering myself,” you say once the sheets are pulled all the way up to your chin.

“I just saw you completely naked though,” Tae laughs.

You raise a brow, “And?”

“And?” he repeats. “And you shouldn’t have to cover yourself.”

“Let me live, Tae.”

“Why’d you come back early?” his sudden question throws you off a bit.

You look at him, seeing genuine curiosity in his eyes, “I just wanted to see you.”

“Really?” he looks shocked.

“Yeah,” you feel embarrassed now. “I just…didn’t want to end the year on the bad note or start the year off with you hating me.”

His gaze softens, “I don’t hate you. I was just frustrated. You’re my best friend, and you leaving felt like you were betraying me.”

“Stupid,” you say.

“Okay, so maybe I was,” he rolls his eyes. “But speaking of the New Year…”

He searches for something amongst the clothing items scattered on the floor. You have to force yourself not to look at him as he bends down to put his clothes back on. As he looks for whatever he’s looking for, you search for your own clothes and do the same. Once he jumps back on the bed, his phone is in his hand. He presses the home button and smiles.

“It’s 11:59; make a wish!” he says and you quickly shut your eyes. But before you can even fully think of something, he crashes you into a hug, planting a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Happy New Year, y/n!”

You smile, “Happy New Year, Kim Taehyung.”

“Thanks for being the best. Forgive for being an ass and not calling back,” he says, still hugging you tightly. “Friends still?”

“The best of friends,” you’re still smiling, but it’s forced. You feel your face tremble, your hands shaking a bit as you cling onto him. A sudden, lone tears falls down your face.

Best friends. Just friends.

As you utter the words in your head, your heart sinks deeper and deeper.

***

As the years roll by, you’ve come to terms that the relationship you have with Tae has morphed into a friends with benefits ordeal. It’s that kind of situation because no one knows what you two are doing—no one but you and Tae. Everyone continued to believe that you both were just best friends, but behind closed doors you two were fucking. A lot.

At first, you were hesitant to accept that this was to be your reality. You didn’t want to be a friend that he fucked; you wanted to be more or nothing at all. But you couldn’t lose the boy; he was a part of your life and you needed him. And it just so happened to be via this relationship.

But that’s not the only thing.

Since you two weren’t exclusive, and no one knew, it meant you technically could date other people—which you guys did. Initially, you were green with envy. You didn’t like the idea that he was being intimate with other girls who weren’t you. But you realize it was foolish to think that since you were doing the same thing.

During senior year, you dated someone just because you felt obligated to. Also, Tae was in a relationship as well so you needed the distraction. You were intimate with the guy, but he wasn’t Tae. And you hated yourself for thinking that.

You also hated yourself even more for always caving into Kim Taehyung. No matter the situation, you could never say no to him. You ended up having to break up with that particular boyfriend of yours since you cheated on him one too many times.

When it was time to go to college, it was the only logical choice for you both to attend the same school. You needed Taehyung just as much as you needed air to breath. The application period was nerve-wracking because you were scared that you two wouldn’t get into the same schools. But by some miracle, you did.

College was honestly a blur. Because of your friendship with Tae, it was hard to stay in relationships with other guys. You tried to date other people but it never felt the same. No one else knew your body as well as Tae. He knew exactly what you liked, and exactly how to do it.

It was frustrating.

There were many times you wanted it to end, but Taehyung would just show up right back at your door and your selfish self let him right back in. It was a never-ending cycle. And in all honesty, it was a toxic relationship. No one should be so caught up with someone they weren’t dating, and yet here you two were—a terrible exception.

You were always terrified that people would find out about you and Tae’s secret, especially your parents. What would they even say? As much as they loved Tae, you were sure that they would be disappointed. They would be probably be most unhappy about the fact that you ruined so many potentially great relationships over a boy who didn’t even love you.

At least, not in the way you deserved to be loved.

“Do you love me?” you randomly asked one day.

Perhaps it was the sexual high that messed with your brain, but you’re not sure why you decided to ask him the big question. Tae was still breathing hard beside you, recovering from the sex you two just had.

“Of course,” he breathed out, “you’re my best friend.”

You heart sank a little, “So, like, that friend-love then?”

“Why are you even asking?” he turned to the side, facing you.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Just curious, I guess.”

But you did know. Despite it all being no-strings-attached, you started to feel a little too attached.

You weren’t sure when it occurred, but you suddenly started noticing the little things. Even though you had known Tae for years, you never realized how fond you were of everything he did. Of all the people in the world, you didn’t understand why it had to be him. He didn’t love you beyond a friend, and he probably would never feel anything more for you. So, why did you continue to let him fuck your brains out? You didn’t have an answer to that.

After college, you tried to stop seeing Tae all together, but the boy was so damn persistent. He just didn’t know how to leave your life. It was like he was torturing you; dangling you on a minuscule rope that hovered above an ocean. But despite the torture, every time you saw him, your heart grew more and more for him. It was a strange feeling honestly; being so incredibly fond of someone, but also wanting to be far away from them.

Every night, you wondered why life turned out to be this way for you—stuck in an unrequited, friends with benefits relationship. As you thought these things, you couldn’t help but realize how fucked up it all was.

A part of you wished that you had never decided to come home early that New Year’s Eve so long ago. If you hadn’t come home, you wouldn’t have called Yoon. If you hadn’t called her, you wouldn’t have gone to Jay’s stupid house party. If you hadn’t gone to that damn house party, you wouldn’t have let Tae fuck you for the first time. If that night would’ve never happened, you wouldn’t be here questioning everything.

But would that have really changed anything?

***

You down another shot glass.

A friend from work invited you out to her birthday party, and you figured it would be an intimate affair since she was rather quiet. She also told you to bring a plus-one, so you dragged Taehyung out too because you figured you needed someone to talk to. Instead of a small party, you found yourself in a club filled with many people. And you are now alone, your plus-one nowhere to be found.

The moment you two entered the club, Tae wandered from your side. Out of the two of you, he has always been the more social one; making friends everywhere he went. You managed to find the friend who invited you, but you didn’t get to talk long—like you had predicted earlier—and simply ended up at the bar.

“Did you want another one?”

You look at the bartender, eyes slightly narrowed, “What do you think?”

“I was just asking,” he says, wiping the inside of a glass. “I mean, you’ve had a few.”

You take the briefest moment to do a once over of the bartender, and you smile a little to yourself—he’s kind of cute. Even though you swear you only stare at him for a second, he catches you and pink tinges your cheeks.

“I wasn’t looking at you, I swear,” you say, looking anywhere but at him.

He just laughs, “It’s okay; it’s not every day a pretty girl stares at me with drool forming at the corner of her mouth.”

You widen your eyes, “I was not drooling!”

“Kidding,” he smiles, and you feel your heart warm just a bit. “What’s your name? I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Y/n, and I’m only here for a birthday…though it’s quite obvious I’m not really participating. What’s your name?”

“Hoseok,” he says, and you repeat it in your head a million times.

A smile forms on your lips, “Nice to meet you.”

As am easy conversation forms between you and Hoseok, you can’t help but laugh at everything he says. It feels nice to laugh, especially since it feels like you haven’t done so in a long time. In this moment, you feel kind of glad you decided to come out tonight.

“So, about that drink,” Hoseok asks, face close to yours.

“I’d love another—”

Before you can finish your sentence, you feel a sudden presence behind you.

“I believe she’s fine.”

You turn around, eyes meeting Tae’s. “What are you doing?”

Instead of saying anything, he just grabs your wrist and pulls you off your stool.

“Tae!”

With his free hand, he reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a few bills. He throws them on the counter, telling the Hoseok to keep the change. You struggle against his hold, not understanding why he’s doing this—you really wanted another drink and you wanted to talk to the cute bartender some more. And the last thing you wanted was to deal with Kim Taehyung.

He drags you both through the club, past masses of people. You’re not able to break free until he slips the two of you outside. As the door shuts behind you, a chill from the night hits you and you curse yourself for not bringing a jacket.

But even though you’re cold, a flash of anger heats you up momentarily, “What the hell, Taehyung?”

Rarely do you ever call him Taehyung to his face. At the sound of his full name being used, his mouth tightens and he looks at you. “I should be asking you that.”

“Oh my god,” you roll your eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Why were you flirting with the bartender?” he asks, eyes narrowing.

You cross your arms over your chest, “The bartender has a name, and it’s Hoseok.”

“So you guys are on a first name basis?”

“He asked for my name, and I was not flirting with him,” you say. “We were just talking.”

“Hmm…I guess we have different versions of talking then; I don’t recall talking including his face being two inches away from yours,” Tae practically yells, and you can’t believe this is actually happening.

“Like you’re one to talk! I saw you walk away from me when we got here to go talk to girls, you hypocrite.”

He scoffs, “I was not talking to girls.”

Just recently, there’s something off in your friendship; a loose screw. For some reason, you two are fighting a lot more; finding the dumbest things to pick out and argue about. Also, Tae has picked up a habit of being overprotective. It makes no sense why he suddenly feels the need to act in such a way.

“Seriously, you need to chill out,” you tell him, not understanding why he’s being so unreasonable.

“You should take your own advice.”

“Maybe I will,” you sigh, turning around and walking away from him.

You only make it a few steps before an arm pulls you back, “Where are you going?”

“Didn’t you say for me to take my own advice? Well, I am; which means I’m leaving,” you say before pushing him away and walking again.

“Y/n,” he says your name, but you don’t care to stop. “Y/n.”

You throw up a middle finger, still walking down the street.

“Fuck. Stop it, you idiot. Let me just drive you home.”

“No,” is your immediate response, but you doubt that he can hear you. All you really want to do right now is take off all the damn makeup you are wearing and sleep.

“Y/n,” Tae repeats, “I’m sorry. Please stop. You’re angry at me, I know, but let me just drive you. I’d hate for you to walk home. It’s dangerous and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Stopping halfway down the street, you look over your shoulder. Even under the dim lighting of the streetlights, you can see the sincerity in his eyes. You walk back to him, nod, and then walk to his car. The whole ride to your apartment, you two don’t speak. Instead, soft music from the radio fills the silence. Aside from not talking to him, you also angle your body away from him; you choose to look out the window, watching the night come alive.

When he stops in front of your building, you quickly unbuckle yourself and get out of the car. You practically run to your door, not wanting to let Tae say a single thing to you. And, thankfully, he doesn’t. As you lock your front door behind you, you look out through the little peephole and see that he hasn’t left yet. Shockingly, it takes him a few minutes to leave; when he does finally drive off, you sink to your knees.

***

The next evening, someone knocks at your door.

At first, you’re hesitant to open the door since you didn’t plan on anyone coming over. When you check to see who it is, your eyes widen. Unlocking the door, you shift awkwardly on your feet, “Tae? What are you doing?”

In front of you, he stands with a bag of takeout, your favorite, and a bottle of wine.

“I brought food,” he says, pushing past you to walk inside. He leaves you standing at the door confused.

“Why?” you follow him into your small kitchen, crossing your arms over your chest.

Tae looks at you and raises a brow, “I can’t come over and bring food?”

You don’t respond because he knows why you’re questioning him. You are still mad at him for what happened last night at the club. He had no right to act the way he did.

“I’m hurt,” he feigns sadness, clutching his chest. “I thought we were best friends?”

“We are,” you say, and he smiles. “But you were an asshole yesterday.”

The smile on his face falls, “I know, and that’s why I brought your favorite takeout.”

“You’re trying to apologize through takeout?”

“Is it working?”

You roll your eyes; you can never win. Although you want to be mad at him, you know that you can never be. “Maybe.”

A smile graces his face again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Great; that’s better than no.”

He grabs your hand and walks you both into the living room. Taking the boxes out of the paper bag, he hands you your favorite dish and digs into his own. As you two settle on the couch, with the TV play some random movie, you can’t help but stare at him.

After you slipped into bed last night, you stayed up and thought a lot about your relationship with Taehyung. You spent many nights thinking about him, but last night you finally decided on something: you are going to end the friends with benefits relationship with him. This decision came to you because you realized that you both aren’t happy.

You loved Tae beyond the lines of a best friend.

There; you finally admitted it.

As much as you wanted to make him happy, to him you are just the best friend. Nothing more, nothing less. Maybe that’s why you enjoyed Hoseok’s company so much last night—he actually gave you the attention you so desperately wanted from Tae. After all these years, you figured it’s time that he receives the happiness he deserves. You deserve happiness too, even if it means letting him go.

“What?” he suddenly asks, not looking away from the TV screen.

“Nothing,” you say, shoving some food in your mouth. Despite thinking these thoughts, you aren’t sure how to break the news to him.

After the random takeout night, everything returns to how it always used to be—the same cycle of a toxic, friends with benefits relationship. Each time you climbed into Taehyung’s bed or he yours, you swore it would be the last time. Hell, you even slipped it out once that it was going to be the last time, but he just laughed and carried on.

A few weeks go by, and you find yourself at Tae’s house once again. He invited you over to watch a movie, but you two are doing everything but that.

He’s pressed against you, peppering kisses along your jaw and down your neck. After so many years of being intimate together, Tae knows your body like the back of his hand. You moan as he slides a hand underneath your shirt to touch one of your sensitive breasts. His other hand begins to travel to the button of your jeans. Your body screams in anticipation, but he suddenly stops.

“Bed. Now,” he says, and then picks you up.

Tae carries you across his apartment to his bedroom, and sets you at the foot of his bed. You take a second to glance around the room you’ve come to memorize so well.

“This is the last time, okay?” your words are sincere tonight; after this, it’s officially over.

But Taehyung doesn’t even glance at your face as he discards your shirt on the floor. The next thing to come off are your jeans, and you’re left in only your underwear. This scene is all too familiar.

“Why am I always the first to get naked?” you ask.

He smirks, taking his shirt and pants off. “Better?”

“Much,” you say with a pang in your heart as you stare at the beautiful human being in front of you. In this moment, you see just how grown up Taehyung has gotten. He isn’t the lanky boy you met all those years ago anymore. Now, as your eyes travel over the golden skin that stretches over his toned body, he’s a man.

Tae proceeds to rip your underwear off and you slide his boxers off. He immediately pushes you back on the bed, hands spreading your legs apart. His lips attach to your inner thighs, leaving teasing kisses everywhere. You moan, begging him for more. So, he brings a finger to your entrance, smirking again.

“So wet already,” he muses just before replacing his finger with his mouth.

As he begins to lick you, you weave your fingers into his hair. “Yes, Tae. Oh my god.”

He looks up at you from where he’s positioned between your legs, and you nearly orgasm on the spot. The smolder in his gaze lights up your entire body. As he continues to use tongue, which you’re sure is magical, his eyes never move away from yours and you swear that you’ve never seen anything sexier in your life.

He applies more pressure and you pull his hair tighter, feeling yourself getting close. You moan and arch your back, hands fisting the sheets around you. Just as you’re about to see the stars, Tae suddenly pulls his mouth away. Immediately you whimper, not liking the loss of touch. You start to complain, but don’t get very far before he suddenly shoves two fingers inside of you. The fullness causes you to reach your peak, and you cry out his name.

“That’s it, you dirty girl,” he still pumps his fingers inside of you, helping you ride out your high. “So sexy.”

It all just feels so good, and you nearly question your decision. You lift your head up once you’ve recovered and manage a small smile, “My turn.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen for a moment and you take the chance to pull him onto the bed, flipping positions so you’re on top. One of your hands reaches for his cock, moaning a bit when you realize how hard he is already. You stoke his member a few times before bending down to take him into your mouth. In all honesty, you are never one to really give blowjobs. It’s not that you hate giving them, it just never fits the flow; Tae almost always goes down on you and then fucks you—he never really gives you many chances to return the favor.

But from the expression on his face, you know he absolutely loves it.

“Shit,” he groans as you take him deeper into your mouth.

His cock hits the back of your throat and you gag a bit, feeling tears forming in your eyes. Even though giving blowjobs is rather uncomfortable sometimes, it’s worth seeing the reaction from Tae. His breaths are getting heavier; he’s getting close. This fact prompts you to suck harder, paying more attention to his sensitive head.

“Y/n—fucking shit—stop.”

Your eyes meet his from underneath your lashes. Letting go of his cock with a pop sound, you ask, “Is there something wrong?”

Tae has never stopped you from finishing a blowjob before.

He runs a hand over his face, “It feels so fucking good.”

“Why’d you want me to stop then?”

He leans up and captures your lips in a kiss. You kiss him back hard, pushing everything into the kiss. He breaks away first, resting his forehead against yours. “I want to cum inside you.”

And before you can comprehend his words, he flips you over onto your stomach and lifts your ass up. Without much warning, he slams inside you. This is done without much effort because you’re still wet from earlier. You both moan at the feeling of being connected like this; he has always filled you up so well.

Tae grips onto your hips as he moves fast, thrusting into you relentlessly. All you can do is sink your head into the bedsheets and take the pleasure. You’ve always loved this position since Tae goes so much deeper, hitting all the right spots. The same pleasure from earlier starts to build up inside of you again, and you tell him to go harder. And he does, leaning over you so he doesn’t move out much and ends up going even deeper than before.

You moan into the sheets, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable. Tae begins to suck onto the skin of your shoulders, no doubt leaving hickeys. This act just adds to the pleasure and you feel like you’re about to burst. Suddenly, Taehyung flips you over onto your back and crashes his lips on you.

As he kisses you, his hips move faster and you feel so so close.

“Cum for me, baby,” Tae whispers into your ears, fingers finding your sensitive clit, and that does the trick.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight truck, tightening your walls around Tae. Within seconds, he reaches his climax too, releasing himself into you. After this, he falls on top of you. But unlike other times, he doesn’t stay in the position long and rolls over. His chest rapidly rises up and down, sweating covering his entire body. You try to catch your own breath, feeling your heart beating erratically.

He turns his head to look at you and smiles, “Fucking perfect as always, y/n.”

Placing a quick kiss on your forehead, he gets up to grab a rag to clean the both of you. Once you clean the creampie off of you, he hands you a t-shirt and pulls his own boxers on. He whispers goodnight and falls asleep immediately. You take in his sleeping form—long eye lashes, soft lips; he looks like an angel. You can’t help but bring a hand to his face, trailing your fingers along his skin.

After a few moments, you roll over; feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. You shut your eyes tightly, tears flowing down your face. A silent sob racks its way through your body because this was the last time. You were serious when you said those words to him before. Being in this toxic relationship isn’t an option anymore—you can’t deal with being the girl he simply used for sex.

You craved intimacy beyond that.

You wanted something deep, all consuming. Was that so bad?

While Tae slept peacefully beside you, you couldn’t relax at all. The thought of you leaving him haunted you. Before anything, he’s your best friend; you don’t want to lose him. At the same time, though, you know that you can’t keep him in your life. You want so much more, and he can’t give you that. So in your mind, it’s better just to break yourself away entirely.

Before the sun rises, you quietly get out of Taehyung’s bed and grab your clothes. You decide to keep his shirt, wanting to be selfish one last time. When you have all your things, you finally look at his sleeping form. Your heart hangs heavy in your chest; it hurt like hell now, but you would be grateful later…right?

Slipping out of his apartment, you drive home feeling like a total mess. Once you make it to your place, you immediately crawl into bed and cry yourself to sleep.

***

It’s one of those nights again.

The world is asleep, yet you are still wide awake—heart aching, mind running a thousand miles an hour. No matter what you try, sleep does not come. It’s like life is torturing you.

Since you left Taehyung’s house that one morning, you haven’t been able to sleep well. Every time you thought you finally were going to drift into dreamland for the night, his face would creep right into your mind. His expressive eyes, the gentle slope of his nose, the curve of his boxy grin—it was all ingrained in your mind. And you hated it. You also hated how you could still feel his burning touch on your skin; the way his large hands caressed your body.

Not only couldn’t you sleep well, but Tae calls you every day. He blows up your phone, leaving a voicemail every single time.

Y/n, pick up the phone.

Call me back soon, okay?

Is everything okay? Are you okay??

What did I do wrong? Call me back.

I know you’re listening to these messages since your voice mailbox isn’t full…call me soon.

…please pick up, y/n. Please.

As you listen to each message, your heart breaks a little more. You’re at a point now that you feel like you don’t even have a heart since you just feel so broken. The longingness in your chest is about to burst, but you aren’t going to give in. You aren’t going to pick up the phone and give him the satisfaction of knowing that you desperately cannot live without him.

You can be strong for once. You can exist without Kim Taehyung.

Even though you don’t pick up or return any of his calls, that doesn’t stop him. It has already been almost a month since you last saw him, but he continues to call and call and call. He’s relentless and a part of you feels absolutely terrible.

In the second month, the calls are less frequent but still very present in your life. Tae still calls practically every day, leaving you those damn voicemails that break your soul. And as much as it hurts, you still listen to every voicemail. You don’t know why though because you still feel as shitty as ever.

By the third month, Tae only calls once, maybe twice, a week. You still give him props for being so driven. If it had been you in his position, you would’ve give up a long time ago. He leaves the occasional voicemail too, but you know better to not listen anymore.

Miraculously, you’ve managed to avoid seeing him all this time. You don’t really know how though, since you both live in the same city. But he hasn’t come to see you yet, which is surprising. This behavior was very un-Tae-like, but you’re thankful; if he was to show up at your door, you don’t know what you would do.

Without Taehyung present in your life, you didn’t know what to do with yourself at first. A person who was so essential to your being wasn’t there anymore. But after the days, weeks, and eventual months went by, you learn to just deal. Your co-workers were concerned at first—they didn’t know why you had suddenly changed. They questioned you a lot that first month and attempted to change your mood; it, however, died quickly when they realized you weren’t going to change.

But have you changed a lot?

You aren’t too sure.

The days continue to pass you by, and life is starting to get rather dull. It’s the same routine of waking up, going to work, and then coming home. Although it’s boring and less than interesting, you stick to it because it’s the right thing. And before you know it, six whole months go by and it’s almost the end of the year.

Life’s still boring, but you think about Taehyung a lot less now. He stopped calling after the fourth month and no longer consumed your every thought. You can breathe a little bit better now, but there are still some nights you laid awake wondering how he was doing. Knowing him, he’s probably doing great; Tae’s always able to adapt easily to situations.

With the end of the year approaching, you find yourself not to terribly excited about the holidays; after all, you’re going to spend them alone. Or so you thought.

“Hello?” It wasn’t Tae on the phone, but someone else who you haven’t spoken to in years.

“Hey, y/n.”

“Umm…hi?”

“You said your greetings already,” the person on the other line says, humor laced in their voice.

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, “what do you want?”

They mock gasp, “Is that really the way to speak to someone you haven’t spoken to since high school?”

“I don’t know, Yoon; maybe because we haven’t talked since high school?”

“Goodness, no need to sound so sarcastic,” she says. “I was just saying.”

You have no idea why she’s suddenly calling after all these years. After high school, you haven’t kept up with anyone you used to talk to—besides Tae, of course. You’re surprised she still has your number.

“Like I said before, what do you want?” you ask, confused.

“Can’t I just randomly call you?”

“No,” is your immediate response.

“Look, y/n, I know we haven’t talked since high school, but we used to be really good friends,” Yoon says, “so I just wanted to call and invite you to a New Year’s Eve party I’m hosting at my boyfriend’s place.”

“A New Year’s Eve party?” This feels all too familiar.

“Yeah—it’ll be fun, so please come!”

You scrunch your brows, “Is it your same boyfriend from high school?”

“Oh god no,” she laughs. “I’m dating Jay now.”

In that moment, your mouth drops, “What?! As in, Jay from high school? As in, the Jay who hosted the best parties?”

“Yes, that Jay. We’ve been dating for a few years now,” Yoon explains.

“That’s so crazy,” you say. “Who would’ve guessed; but I’m glad you ended things with that boyfriend of yours from high school—he was a douchebag.”

Yoon laughs again, “You don’t even have to tell me; I don’t know what I saw in him.”

“Seriously,” you smile. “Especially that one time—”

“—he got so drunk the night before graduation, he received his diploma hungover and confessed he had a thing for a teacher,” she finishes for you and you both laugh so hard. You can’t remember the last time you laughed so much.

“Oh my god, that was ridiculous,” you say, recalling the memory.

“It’s really funny now, but I still cringe thinking about it sometimes.”

If you were her, you would cringe too, “Jay is totally a step up from that mess.”

“So you’ll come to the party?” she asks.

You shrug even though she can’t see you, “I guess so.”

“Great,” you can feel her smile.

“I mean, it’s not like I have anything better to do,” you tell her, and it was the truth—you really don’t have anything else planned. There’s no way in hell you’re going home to your parents for the holidays; without a doubt they’d ask about Taehyung and you aren’t exactly ready to tell them yet. Also, you’d probably run into his mom and that would be bad.

“I promise you won’t regret it.”

***

On Christmas day, you call your parents. They bombard you with the typical you should call more and come visit. You manage to avoid questions that are too personal and promise that you’ll visit…soon.

As you call the other important people in your life, including Yoon, your hands itch to call Tae. It was your first Christmas, since that trip to visit your aunt all those years ago, without him and it honestly feels weird. When you woke up this morning, your mind immediately flashed back to Christmases past where you always woke up beside him. The yearning you haven’t felt in a while starts to return, but you don’t press his number that you’ve never bothered to delete.

The days following Christmas are a blur as you wait for the 31st to arrive. Admittingly, you’re actually kind of excited for the party; it’s going to be your first social outing in a while. Yoon called and told you it was going to a dressy event, meaning nicer clothes, so you spent hours trying to find the perfect outfit. You don’t even know why you were freaking out about clothes, but you wanted to look nice.

You end up finding a burgundy dress with an exposed back that makes you feel really good, and you feel happy for the first time in forever.

When New Year’s Eve finally rolls around, you slip into your slightly scandalous dress ready to take on the world. Yoon sends you the address of the place and you drive for about thirty minutes before arriving at a mansion.

Of course, you think to yourself as you pull into the circle driveway. This dude would live in a mansion even as an adult.

At the steps of the mansion, a man stands there and you look at him puzzled. “Yes?”

“Hello, miss, we can take your car and park it for you,” he says and you realize this must be a really fancy event.

“Oh, okay,” you say and get out of the car.

“Just let Mr. Jay or one of our staff know when you’re ready to leave,” he tells you before zooming away in your car.

You turn around a few times in the driveway, not knowing what to make of the situation, before making your way up the steps of the lavish house. When you reach the door, you don’t even have to reach for the handle—it opens before you can.

“Y/n?” someone calls your name.

You smile, “Yoon.”

Your old childhood friend stands in front of you in a gold fitted dress, looking even better now than she did in high school.

“Oh my god—you’re so hot now what the fuck,” she practically screeches before tackling you in a hug. You can’t help but laugh at her action, before hugging her back. “How is this even possible?”

You pull away, “Look who’s talking.”

She rolls her eyes, “Compared to you, I’m a potato.”

“I mean, you managed to snag Jay so I highly doubt that,” you say to her, an eyebrow raised. “By the way, this place is huge.”

“Oh, I know. I told Jay it was too big but he said it was perfect,” Yoon shrugs.

You look around, taking in the elaborate décor and high ceilings. It was all beautiful, but a little too much room for your personal taste. “I mean, I guess it makes a good place to host parties?”

“That’s the plan now.”

As you continue to take in all the glorious details, you realize something, “Where is everyone?”

You look at Yoon, wondering if you were somehow early but that couldn’t be because you were on time…or at least, you thought you were. But your friend looks at your confused expression and smiles.

“It’s a big place, remember? The party is on the other side of the mansion,” she explains and in that moment, you can hear music emitting from somewhere far.

Yoon grabs your arms and you two make your way across the mansion. The deeper Yoon pulls you into the house, the louder the music gets. As the bass starts to shake the floor, you start seeing more people. Actually, you start seeing a lot of people.

“Oh shit,” you say to yourself, surprised by the sheer amount of bodies.

“I know,” your friend yells in front of you and you’re surprised that she heard you. “This is technically my party, but it seems like Jay ended up inviting the whole city.”

Although there are many people present, it’s not like a party you would’ve attended back in high school. No one is dancing provocatively or getting wasted—everyone is just doing their own thing. Yoon walks you into a room with high ceilings, a glittering chandelier right in the center. The extravagant sight parts your mouth in awe; exactly how rich is Jay?

“Well, this is the party,” Yoon says after you close your mouth again. “Before you leave, come find me okay?”

You nod a couples times before you register her words, “Wait, what?”

“I have to go find Jay,” she shrugs.

“And you’re just going to leave me?”

Yoon smiles, “You’ll be fine.”

“What was the point of inviting me if you’re not going to bother to entertain me?” you might’ve appeared rather sarcastic, but you’re internally freaking out. You don’t want Yoon to leave you; what are you supposed to do? This party’s not your forte and you don’t know anybody else but her.

“I’m sure you will find someone else to entertain you,” she says, already walking away from you. What was that supposed to mean?

And with that, your only friend at the party abandons you. Suddenly, you find yourself feeling out of place in the sea of people. You quickly walk away from the center of the room and don’t stop until you find a bar. You pour yourself a drink, half-leaning against the wall. As you glance around the room, you feel slightly envious of everyone. They all seem like they’re having a great time…and you’re not feeling that same excitement anymore. You are so immersed in your thoughts, you don’t even notice the figure behind you. And you definitely do not expect to feel a hand on you.

Out of instinct, you jab your arm into them; but they stop you, grabbing a hold of your hand. You turn around, ready to give them a piece of mind. But when you realize who is behind you, the world seems to stop.

“Wha—” your mouth falls open, not able to form proper words. “T-Tae?”

The last person you expected to see is inches away from you, and you can’t even think.

Your mind is completely blank, devoid of any thoughts as you search his features. Not much has changed about him—same curved lips, nose perfectly sculpted by God himself. If anything, he just looks tired. Tears threaten to spill when your eyes finally meet his; in his gaze, you see all the emotions you’ve felt these past six months. Confusion, pain, anger, numbness—you see it all and it kills you inside.

In your rationality, you thought he would be okay; you thought that he didn’t need you. Now, you see that he’s hurt, and you’re the cause of it all. Fear spikes your system. You need to get away from him before you cause any more damage. But as you try to back away, you realize that his grip on you is tight.

Without saying a word, he forcefully pulls you forward and drags you through the crowd of people. Thankfully, no one really pays you two attention as Tae maneuvers the both of you away from the center of the party. You have no idea where he’s taking you, but you don’t try to resist because there would be no point. Tae turns into a hallway and opens a random door, shoving you inside. He locks the door behind him, and finally turns to face you. You can’t even look at him, feeling shameful that you’re actually in his presence again.

Silence fills the room before he talks, “Why?”

You stare at the floor, not knowing what to say.

“Why?” he suddenly grabs both of your shoulders, shaking you. “Why did you leave me?”

You let him shake you, feeling deserving of the action; you deserved all the bad in the world for what you did.

“Did you not know how much of a mess I was, huh? I thought you were just mad at me; ignoring me for a couple days. But when you never called back, I didn’t know to do. Fuck,” he lets you go to rake a hand through his hair. “I was so angry. How could you do that to me? You ruined me, y/n. Why are you so heartless?”

By now, tears are pouring down your face; but you’re angry too. He was angry with you? He was a mess? “You think you’re the only one who was hurting?”

“Well, I wasn’t the one who completely cut you from my life.”

More tears spill from your eyes. He doesn’t get it. “You’re an asshole, Kim Taehyung.”

While he was angry that you didn’t return any of his damn phone calls in six months, you were disappointed that after all these years he still couldn’t see your true feelings. You might’ve not seem him in a while, but the same feelings from six months ago were starting to creep back and you didn’t like it. You have almost forgotten how much your soul longed for him.

“I’m an asshole?” he asks incredulously.

You don’t say anything; instead, you turn back around and start to walk towards the door. Before you can get far though, Tae pulls you back.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Away from you.”

“I haven’t seen you in six months and you want to leave already? Is that what you do best? Run away?” he asks.

His words are like a dagger to your heart. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

“Why are you doing this, y/n? What the hell did I do?” he’s yelling at this point and the tears rush endlessly down your face. And before you can even help it, the words tumble right out of your mouth.

“You made me fall in love with you.”

The rooms falls silent and in that moment, you swear that you can hear Taehyung’s own heart beating. You can’t even look at him, feeling too embarrassed at your sudden confession. It’s the first time you’ve ever said the truth out loud; and even though you feel strangely liberated, a lingering feeling of rejection still harbors over you.

When the silence continues to swallow you up, you slowly start to regret ever saying anything.

“You know what? Forget I ever said anything,” you quickly say in attempts to clear the air. “I don’t even know why—”

“You’re in love with me?”

His words cause you to raise your head up and meet his eyes. There’s an emotion swirling in them that you can’t decipher. Since there’s no turning back now, you nod your head once and silent wait for his response. A few seconds pass before a smile morphs onto his face. The smile surprises you because you don’t get the gesture; why was he smiling?

“You’re in love with me?” he repeats his question, and you scrunch your brows as you nod your head again. “No, no—say it out loud.”

You blink a couple times, “Umm…I love you?”

“C’mon, say it more reassuringly.”

“I love you, Kim Taehyung,” you say with honesty because you do love him, you really do. The smile that graced his face a few seconds earlier is now a goofy grin that stretches from ear to ear. It’s a smile that scares you a bit because you still don’t understand the reason behind it.

“You,” he points in your direction before gesturing to himself, “love me.”

By this point, a string of laughter leaves you since he keeps repeating the same three words. “Yes I love you; why is that so unbelievable?”

“It’s not unbelievable,” he smirks and it is all so very Kim Taehyung. “But why did it take you so long to tell me? I mean, we’ve been friends forever.”

You slump against the wall, “And that is precisely the reason why. I-I didn’t want to ruin what we had already. You’re my best friend Tae, and I didn’t want to lose that. It also didn’t help that we were having sex together; I think that just made me fall harder, honestly.”

“I thought you wanted to keep it all no-strings-attached?”

“I did,” you sigh, “but it just all got so complicated.”

“Well, if it helps,” Tae starts, placing a hand along your cheek, “I’m in love with you too.”

He says it all so nonchalant that you barely catch the in love part. “You what?”

Tae looks down at you, now cupping both your cheeks, “I love you, y/n.”

“Are you just saying that because I confessed?” You’re in denial that Tae could be in love with you too because how can that even be? You were positive that he never saw you as more than a friend.

“Of course not; I think I’ve been in love with you since high school,” he admits, cheeks tinging a shade of red. “You were the cute girl in English class that all the boys liked, and I was just lucky to have gotten paired up with you on that project. When we became friends, it felt like a dream—I felt like I won the lottery. And because we were friends, I decided to suppress my feelings because you were important to me. But that winter break back in eleventh grade ruined me though. I have never regretted and cherished a night so much in my life.

“I figured I could live with simply being a friend who you fucked because I thought it was what you wanted. Now, however, I can see that we’ve been on the same boat all this time.”

When you hear his confession, you feel like so much heartbreak could’ve been prevented. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He shrugs, “The fear of rejection, I guess. Being friends with benefits was comfortable and I was fine with it, until you completely walked out of my life.”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “I thought that was best. I thought you could live without me.”

“I could never live without you,” Tae’s eyes widen. “I was a mess without you these last six months. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Jay and Yoon.”

That’s when everything clicked, “You know Jay and Yoon?”

Tae smiles sheepishly, “Jay was a guy I used to hang with before I met you—our parents are friends. We haven’t talked in years and probably wouldn’t have if I hadn’t decided to go home to visit my parents.”

“You did what?” this news shocks you. “They didn’t…they didn’t ask about me, did they?”

“Don’t worry, I just lied and said you were busy,” he says and you can breathe again. “But anyway, when I went home Jay happened to be in town too and when we went out for drinks, everything just spilled out of me. He then told me that his girlfriend used to be one of your close friends and I begged her to get in touch with you. And, since you’re here…I guess she did.”

Wow. This is all so unexpected. “So, you all basically devised this party just so you could see me?”

Tae just nods and you roll your eyes before shoving him away from you. Taehyung looks at you like you’re crazy. “What the hell, y/n?”

“Why can’t you ever just grab my attention like a normal person?” you ask him, and a smile returns on his face. “Why do you always sneak up on me?”

“You’ve always be fun to mess with.”

As Tae smiles at you, you decide to be spontaneous. You take that chance to fling yourself into his arms, wrapping your own around him. Tae reciprocates the hug and lets his head fall into the crook of your shoulder. “I really am sorry and I really, really do love you.”

Even though you can’t see his face, you can feel him smiling into your shoulder. “I know and I love you more.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” you tell him, smiling.

He raises his head, “I’ve loved you longer, idiot.”

“So? Time doesn’t determine the strength of someone’s love.”

“Yes, it does, because I loved you first.”

“No, it doesn’t because I loved you so much I was willing to let you be happy.”

“I love you more,” he says.

“No, I do.”

“I do.”

“Tae, I love you more—” before you can continue to express how much more you love him, he shuts you up with a kiss. You haven’t kissed him in so long, you can feel your head spinning. As his lips move against yours, you feel desires that you thought died start to come alive again. You mold yourself closer to him, needing to feel him against you.

You pull away from him and he moves down your neck, “Since you claim you love me more, you should show me just how much…”

He raises his lips of your skin immediately, “Oh yeah?”

Smiling, you nod and laugh when he picks you up. He walks you two to the bed in the room and throws you on it before climbing on top as well.

“I feel kind of bad for always using people’s bedrooms,” you say as he starts to unzip your dress.

“I guess it’s just our thing,” Taehyung smiles at you before leaning in for another kiss.

Our thing. You repeat the word in your head, and you swear you’ve never been happier.

#armiesnet #btsbookclub #bangtan bookclub #bts fic #bts smut #taehyung fic #taehyung smut #bts #bangtan #v #smut #angst #kpop fic #it's complicated #xbaepsae

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mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years ago

Text

On Track

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Minho

Genre: Married Life AU, Romance

Warnings: Smut and Language

Word Count: 11K

Summary: Despite her reputation, Y/N is considered one of the very best agents in the music industry. Of course, it doesn’t help that she married one of her clients---notoriously stubborn and arrogant Lee Minho AKA the extremely talented Lee Know whose silky voice and amazing choreographies appeal to an enormous fan-base. A pop singer who prefers to work alone, Y/N usually obliges Minho’s preferences...until her boss demands that he collaborate with the up-and-coming and multi-talented trio, 3racha.

Well, nobody ever said that married life is easy.

For: @hwngjn

There’s a certain decorum involved with the management of arrogant pop singers who think the entire world revolves around their singular existence. In my experience, if you want to tame these wild inclinations, then it’s best to do one of the three things: 1) leave the company ASAP with a two-week notice and a heartfelt plea for a good recommendation, 2) tolerate the existence of this pop singer and hope that he matures with age, or 3) marry this pop singer because you fell in love without understanding the fraternization clause of your contract.

Allow me to elaborate: options one and two will leave you with enough room to continue rising through the ranks without much conflict with upper management. You see, I have firsthand knowledge because I lived through the ensuing outcomes, leaving my first job at the tender age of 23 with very little knowledge and then arduously suffering at my next position with a female artist who insisted on testing my patience. But then again, if you choose to skip options one and two and pursue option three, then you better learn to live with the consequences because it will bring the most long-term effects.

Let me start from here because, for the most part, the consequences for me were fairly minimal. The record company was, of course, incensed when they found out about my unauthorized affair. Unfortunately, Minho liked to brag about the things he cherished, and he made no secret of our relationship outside of the company. I knew it was only a matter of time before the issue was brought to the attention of Mr. Park, the company’s CEO and head producer.

I can still remember sitting in his big office, ignoring the lingering smell of smoke, while Mr. Park shoved my management contract in my face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, to which I had no response other than my weakness for Minho’s cunning smile. “You’re done here,” he announced and my heart broke in my chest.

Fortunately, before I could finish packing my belongings on the same afternoon, Minho had appeared at my desk with a very unhappy Mr. Park trailing behind him with an intense scowl. “Tell her,” Minho growled.

“Y/N,” he sighed. “You’ve been reinstated. Mr. Lee made a convincing argument on your behalf. Apparently, he can’t possibly work here and renew his contract without you as his manager.”

I remember glaring at Minho for his intervention, since our impromptu marriage was entirely his fault. “Thank you, sir.”

Thereafter, I was determined to do the best job I could as famed singer Lee Know’s manager, even if it meant facing scrutiny from jealous fans or bowing my head when I faced another agent in the hallways. I suppose I could deal with their scrutiny because it was better than the alternative of finding myself lounging away in Minho’s expensive condo unemployed and ruined because of my reputation. Even so, I was walking on thin glass everyday, and Minho continued to make things hard by insisting that he didn’t need to follow the rules, especially since he insisted on some one-sided feud with Mr. Park.

For example, today Minho was scheduled for an interview with a very distinguished magazine, but my husband had decided to prioritize his never ceasing libido over regular responsibilities. “Hold still,” Minho said, smirking against the side of my neck while his hands made quick work of my skirt and panties, shoving them harshly down my legs to make room for his greedy touches. Inhibited access to the heat between my legs, presented to him in just the way he liked, meant that his fingers were currently teasing the swollen folds of my labia while I fell apart at the seams.

I could tell that Minho wanted to take his time, but one glance at my wristwatch told me that we weren’t allowed such liberties today. “No, sir,” I said, reaching behind me to scratch my nails along his forearm. “You have an interview in ten minutes!”

“Relax,” he said, kissing delicately down the individual knobs of my spine. “I missed you today.”

“How romantic,” I deadpanned. “Can you hurry before the agency sends someone to look for us?”

As I said before, Minho was never the type to follow clear instructions, and he didn’t like the fact that his agency was rather strict when it came to scheduling. He liked to spite the men upstairs whenever an opportunity arose, such as prolonging needless foreplay when I was already dripping down my thighs because of his ministrations. I reached behind me for his belt, attempting to undo the zipper and release the erection straining the material.

“What’s your hurry, sweetheart?” he purred, knocking away my hand.

“My job as your manager,” I returned, fervently trying to hasten our unexpected intimacy.

“Well, as your favorite client, I suggest you bend over for me so I can fuck this little pussy.”

His words went straight to the tight coil offering no resistance the longer Minho continued to speak dirty words into my ears. “Did you lock the door?”

“Why? Are you expecting someone?”

I frowned, ready to offer a snarky retort before the words were wiped clean from my head when I felt the tip of his cock sink into my awaiting heat. “What was that, sweetheart?” he asked and I moaned loudly because he was suddenly intense with his movements, leaving no room to gather my bearings before he was fucking at a harsh pace.

Actually, in hindsight, I should’ve seen this coming when I met Minho in my office for the very first time. He walked in wearing a loose-fitting tank top and tight skinny jeans like he was attending a fraternity party instead of a company meeting. Minho’s steps were completely assured, sunglasses framing his face perfectly and standing out against the smooth tone of his skin. “Y/N?” he asked with a smirk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “The agency assigned you to my care.”

“Really?” Minho asked, cocksure and smiling bright as he made himself comfortable on my futon without permission. “Miss, you say?”

“We go by professional titles, Mr. Lee,” I said, glaring at him from behind my computer screen.

“Sure,” he dismissed, reaching for the flower vase on my coffee table. “How does this work exactly? You do whatever I ask, right?”

“Put the vase down and pay attention.”

Minho’s smile vanished at my tone. “What did you say?”

“Mr. Lee, the agency forewarned me about your...behavior. I must assure you that it won’t be tolerated because my job is to make sure that you do everything outlined in your contract. I’m sure you didn’t bother taking the time to read it, but there are certain things the company expects of you other than posting to your Twitter at 3:00 AM in the morning.”

I took a deep breath, satisfied that he appeared to be listening. “For example, the company expects your first album release this October. It’s my job to make sure you attend all recording sessions. Furthermore, promotions will be anticipated leading to the album’s delivery to applicable streaming platforms. That means interviews, photoshoots, award shows, and radio performances. Please understand that I’m one of the very best this agency has to offer, which means my clients demonstrate respect and high aptitude for their work and how it reflects on the company. From the moment you first stepped through that door, I knew that you lacked both of those capabilities.”

I stood up from my desk, walking around to the front to regard the man who suddenly found it difficult to look at me. “Here’s a warning, Mr. Lee. If you fail to adhere to my standards, then I won’t hesitate to ask the company to find you a new manager, understand?”

Minho scoffed, snatching his sunglasses away before nodding his head. “Fine.”

Satisfied, I reached behind me for the manila folder I prepared for his arrival. “Now, let’s review your schedule.”

Of course, that was two years ago and despite the whirlwind of mischievousness that encapsulated Minho, including several scandals, an endless barrage of paparazzi, and several intense arguments with upper management, I wouldn’t trade our relationship for anything else in the world. You see, I never counted on falling in love with an idol singer, but he managed to charm his way into my good graces with an irresistible smile and warm personality masked beneath his arrogant facade of indifference. He always brought a smile to my face, even in the midst of an intense orgasm bent over my desk as his cock hit deep inside.

He fingers wrapped around my wrist, dragging my watch into his line of vision. “Two minutes, Y/N.”

I groaned in complaint, wondering how someone who graduated college with a flawless 4.0 GPA continuously broke company rules on a daily basis.

The following morning, I found myself crushed between several executives for an undisclosed company meeting. “Everyone!” Mr. Park announced. “I have exciting news for this year’s Christmas theme.”

A chorus of groans greeted his words. “Sir, I thought we were leaving the decision for the talent?” another agent spoke up.

“Yes, but I think this will work better for our core demographics,” Mr. Park said. “Y/N!”

I sat up straighter, attempting to look more alert than I felt inside. Unfortunately, Minho had kept me up all night in the small recording studio he built in our shared condo, asking me for continuous feedback on his latest project. “Sir?”

“Mr. Lee gave us a very interesting demo last week for a recent project.”

“Oh?”

“I’d like to make it a collaboration effort with our talent,” Mr. Park said and my heart seized in my chest because I knew firsthand just how much Minho despised working with other people. “3racha have landed their first platinum album. We need to capitalize on their success!”

“You want a collaboration between 3racha and Minho?” I asked, swallowing hard at the idea of telling my husband.

“Exactly,” Mr. Park said with a smile. “For the music video, I was thinking we could also invite Hwang Hyunjin and Lee Felix to choreograph something for the project.”

“How...exciting?” I offered, cringing at my tone. Thankfully, Mr. Park was already addressing 3racha’s manager while I stared at my empty coffee mug and wondering if I would need more caffeine to survive.

Afterwards, Mr. Park adjourned our meeting and I returned to my office to find Minho waiting for me perched on the edge of my desk. “Sweetheart,” he greeted me, pulling me in by my waist to press a welcoming kiss to my pout. “You seem worried?”

I leaned back enough to meet his gaze. “You better promise me that you won’t get upset and scream.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “When have I ever done that?”

A million scenarios filtered through my mind before I decided to leave those memories in the past. “I just finished a company meeting.”

“Oh yeah?” he nodded, playing with the necklace resting against my collarbone. “What happened?”

I took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “Mr. Park had an... interesting suggestion.”

Minho glanced up and narrowed his eyes. “This doesn’t sound good.”

“He wants a collaboration,” I said, deciding to go for the killing blow before I could lose any more of my fading confidence. “The new demo you played for the company. He wants you to work with 3racha.”

Minho was quiet for a moment before he chuckled. “Really? Well, I don’t think so, sweetheart. You know how I feel about those things.”

I released an unsteady exhale. “It might be an opportunity?”

He shook his head. “You just march your cute little ass back into Park’s office and tell him I’m not interested.”

I groaned, pulling out of Minho’s arms to walk around my desk. “I have no power to tell Mr. Park anything.”

“Why not? You’re my manager!”

“Yeah, but he’s the head producer and owner,” I remarked, offering him an unimpressed look as I sat down to unlock my computer. “Besides, I think it’s a cool idea for the fans.”

Minho frowned. “Fuck, if I’m collaborating with anyone, then it’s gonna be Sam Smith or Post Malone.”

“As likely as that sounds,” I started with a dramatic sigh, “I think you should start small and work your way to the top.”

“But 3racha?” Minho grimaced. “Those fucking guys think they’re the absolute shit around here.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Not funny,” Minho grumbled. “It’s my demo. I should be able to choose who I work with.”

“I think you’ve forgotten the fine print in your contract,” I said, reaching across the desk to offer his hand a gentle squeeze. “Please don’t make a big deal out of this. Can’t you make an exception...for me?”

Minho sighed, and I offered my absolute best pout in return.

“You’re lucky that I love you.”

Later that afternoon, I was surprised to meet Mr. Kim in the elevator on my way to the lobby. It was heavily rumored around the office that 3racha’s manager was notorious for locking himself away in the studio with his favorite clients. “Y/N,” he greeted me. “Are you busy?”

“Not really,” I said, holding up a folder. “I was bringing some files to Mr. Park.”

“Leave them with his secretary,” Mr. Kim insisted. “I thought it might be a good idea for you to meet my clients since we’ll be working together.”

“Minho is busy with an interview right now.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Mr Kim said. “Maybe it’s better if you talk to them first?”

I considered his offer, noting the disheveled appearance of his suit. “How long have you been trying to find me?”

“Does right now work for you?” he continued, pointedly ignoring my question.

“If you must insist,” I grumbled. “But they’ll have to meet at some point.”

“Yes, but I think we can delay the inevitable,” Mr. Kim said with a pointed look which I knew was directed at my husband.

“Fine.”

My easy agreement was met with a satisfied smirk to which I resisted the urge to remind Mr. Kim that I was only meeting his clients to make things easier for everyone involved in the collaboration. Of course, I had no room to talk down to my superiors and Mr. Kim’s credentials were practically golden compared to the minimal mark I had left on the company and its prolific talent. Instead, I let out a shaky exhale, wondering if it was too late to reconsider the fight I endured on a regular basis to keep my position with the company.

“Here we are,” Mr. Kim grinned. The elevator stopped on the top floor with a resounding alarm. “I think you’ll find my clients to be satisfactory.”

“In comparison to Minho, you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as Mr. Kim urged me to follow him down a narrow hallway. I vaguely recognized our destination, but I usually never lingered around the studios.

“Did I say that?”

“It was implied,” I sighed, crossing my arms.

“Well, that wasn’t my intention, Y/N. You, of course, understand that nothing between us is personal?”

“We’re colleagues, Mr. Kim,” I replied. “That defines our relationship.”

“In that case...” he trailed off, pausing outside one of the doors. “I’m excited to work together.”

I rolled my eyes when he turned his back, but held my tongue as he reached for my hand to drag me inside the room. Immediately, my eyes were drawn to the plethora of monitors and screens dragging the walls of the entertainment studio. It reminded me of my early time as an intern during college, overwhelmed by the inner workings of the record company I was privileged to support, learning everything about the business. There was also a time, however briefly, when I first entered my current company as nothing more than an executive assistant for Mr. Kim who enjoyed reminding me of the fact, especially when his clients continued to eclipse mine in popularity. And that included the three men who offered us polite smiles when we interrupted their session.

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim said, dragging me further into the room. “I thought it might be nice to formally offer introductions. I’d like you to meet Bang Chan, Han Jisung, and Seo Changbin.”

“I’m very excited,” I said, taking on a professional tone as I extended my hand to Chan. “My client is looking forward to your future collaboration.”

Chan accepted my outstretched hand, curling his fingers around mine. “Likewise.”

I withdrew my hand slowly, offering Jisung and Changbin a courteous nod. “Mr. Kim insisted that we meet today.”

“Yes,” Chan nodded. “But your client is noticeably absent.”

I swallowed hard as I met his gaze. “Minho is busy with an interview.”

“I see,” Chan remarked, taking a step back. “Well, 3racha is working until this evening. Perhaps Minho could join us here after his meeting.”

I turned around to look at Mr. Kim who only shrugged in response as if it hadn’t been his idea to keep Minho as far away as possible until necessary. I rolled my shoulders, schooling my expression as I gave Chan an airy laugh. “That only makes sense, doesn’t it? Let me send him a message.”

“In the meantime,” Changbin sighed from behind us. “We can continue with the recording.”

“Keep us updated, Y/N,” Chan said, returning to his work while I started on drafting a message for Minho.

To Minho: Tell me when your interview ends

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim cleared his throat. “I hope Minho’s schedule is cleared for tomorrow?

I raised one eyebrow in question. “Tomorrow?”

“We’d like to start the first recording session,” Chan replied. “Mr. Park played us some of Minho’s demo and we have some ideas for the track.”

“Oh,” I responded, completely out of my element when it came to the actual creation of music despite the many nights I spent with Minho in our home studio. “I’m sure we can make it work.”

“Perfect,” Mr. Kim declared, pulling out his cellphone with a grin. “I’ll make the arrangements on my end.”

Mr. Kim stepped out into the hallway, leaving me alone with his clients who were all watching me with barely concealed curiosity. “You know,” Chan started, “I’ve listened to Minho’s albums. He doesn’t seem like the type of person to write love songs.”

“He likes to experiment,” I said, blushing when I recalled the way he had intimately explained the meaning behind his new demo, but there was no way I was telling anyone that the song was about me.

“Is he...open to criticism?” Jisung asked hesitantly.

“Why? Is there something wrong with the demo?”

“Of course not!” Jisung immediately corrected. “I just thought I’d ask because we have some cool suggestions to improve the overall quality. But I don’t know if Minho would listen.”

It was highly unlikely. “I’m sure he’s open for improvement,” I lied, wincing when I felt my phone vibrate from inside my pocket.

Minho: Call me.

“One second, gentlemen,” I said, cringing at my tone before escaping into the hallway. I held up my cell phone reluctantly, tapping on Minho’s contact name to place the call. He answered almost immediately. “Minho?”

“Sweetheart,” came his voice from the other end. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah,” I said with a heavy exhale. “I’m with 3racha.”

He was silent on the other end for an uncomfortable duration. “Why?”

“Mr. Kim caught me on the way to Mr. Park’s office,” I said. “He insisted we meet.”

“Really? Are you having fun?”

I inwardly groaned at Minho’s tone, recognizing it as the same one he reserved when he was feeling particularly annoyed. “They want to meet you too.”

I was met with another long silence and then- “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I paced outside the studio entrance, wondering if Minho had suddenly had a change of heart in the brief amount of time he had been notified of the collaboration project. After all, everything would be a lot easier if my husband wasn’t so stubborn, a perfectionist in every sense of the word who had trouble delegating work to other people, especially when he didn’t trust them. But for this to be successful, Minho would need to respect 3racha as capable artists who knew what they were doing when it came to creating hit singles.

“This feels more like an intervention,” Minho suddenly announced, trudging down the hallway and pulling me out of my foreboding thoughts.

“Then don’t give me a reason to be nervous,” I said, accepting his brief kiss before reaching out for the door handle. “Promise me you’ll behave?”

“I’ll try,” Minho grumbled, and that was the only confirmation I received before letting the literal beast into the jungle..

Chan was the first to realize Minho’s arrival, standing up from the couch to greet Minho with a professional smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Minho glared at Chan’s outstretched hand. “I’m not thrilled about this collaboration.”

I shook my head, resisting the urge to grab Minho’s hand and force him to feign politeness for once in his life. “Oh,” Chan said, retracting his arm. “I just thought we should get along since we’re working together.”

“A temporary arrangement,” Minho said, clicking his tongue as he turned around to look at me. “Y/N can handle the PR stuff.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” I quipped, trying to lighten the air even though Minho had more or less successfully generated enough tension to last a lifetime.

“Mr. Lee, my clients were hoping to schedule a session tomorrow,” Mr. Kim said. “We’d like to start on the collaboration as soon as possible.”

“Sure,” Minho said, jaw clenching to betray that he wasn’t entirely happy. “I’d like to work quickly.”

A long, insufferable silence ensued while Minho took his time studying the three artists he was expected to share his newest creation. Finally, Mr. Kim interrupted the never-ending staring contest, flashing a forced smile. “Bring the demo with you, Mr. Lee, and anything else you’ve been working on.”

Minho nodded. “I’ve already finished most of the song.” I took a deep breath, waiting until Minho turned around to look at me. “I have something to do, so I’ll see you at home.”

I bowed my head, holding my tongue until the sound of the door closing broke whatever spell Minho had cast over our sullen group. “Pleasant isn’t he?” Changbin snorted.

“He’s just busy,” I tried to excuse, but the sentiment fell short and I suddenly had the desire to run down the hall with my arms flailing above my head.

I guess we can consider day one a complete and total failure.

Despite the awkward tension of Minho’s first meeting with 3racha, I was determined that the remainder of the collaboration would endure no further obstacles. Accordingly, I woke up early the next morning with every intention of playing the part of the mediator, which meant doing everything possible to improve Minho’s mood. For example, my husband was notorious for being intimidating at work, but he was nothing short of soft at home and I took advantage of his early-morning clinginess by surprising him with breakfast in bed and open arms without worrying about rushing through our usual routine.

“You want something,” Minho said, one arm pulling me close to his chest while his other hand made busy work of his breakfast.

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“In general? Maybe it’s the fact that we’re already twenty minutes behind schedule and you aren’t losing your shit.”

I opened one eye, watching him as he swallowed down the remainder of his orange juice. “I’m comfortable.”

“Really?” Minho snickered, looking down with a knowing glance. “Sweetheart, you’re usually pushing me out the door right about now.”

“Well, things have been hectic at the company, so I thought it might be nice to treat ourselves.”

“I assume you’re talking about my required collaboration with the three idiots,” Minho said.

“I’m concerned,” I continued. “Minho, you hate working with the other artists, but this isn’t something we can just walk away from.”

“I understand,” Minho sighed. “I don’t want you to worry about me or the collaboration. I promise to be a good boy.”

I rolled my eyes at his tone. “That’s a great way to instill confidence.”

“They’re irritating,” Minho continued. “My inbox is full of messages and I hate email.”

“Welcome to the 21st century.”

“Are you sure Mr. Park wanted this?”

“Minho,” I said, slowly pulling myself out of his arms. “Stop thinking about the project like it’s some sort of punishment. Consider it an opportunity instead.”

“Please feel free to elaborate.”

“3racha are incredibly famous and they have a considerable fanbase,” I said. “When those fans hear your voice on the record, they might start paying more attention to your music.”

Minho exhaled, chest falling beneath my hands. “I see your point, but I don’t like it.”

“Nobody said you had to like it,” I reminded him. “Be nice to them.”

“What are you asking me to do?” my husband groaned, rolling over onto his stomach.

I quickly straddled his waist, working my fingers into the tense muscles of his shoulders. “I know you don’t like the collaboration, but it won’t last forever and then you can go back to working on your solo projects.”

“I guess, but only if you come to all the recording sessions.”

I grinned triumphantly, even if it was only one victory in a long history of tedious arguments with my stubborn husband.

Mr. Kim was a very impatient man, and I was only somewhat surprised to see him standing by the main entrance when we finally arrived at the company. “Minho, you needed to be in the recording studio...” he trailed off, glancing at his wristwatch with a frown. “Ten minutes ago.”

My husband scoffed. “I don’t work on your time, Mr. Kim.”

“We had a late start,” I intervened. “I’ll make sure he gets there soon, Mr. Kim.”

The older man grunted, clearly displeased with Minho’s behavior. Thankfully, Minho had the decency to wait until he was well out of hearing range before further disparaging Mr. Kim’s character. “Sweetheart, I’m doing this for you,” Minho said, glaring over my shoulder at Mr. Kim’s retreating form. “But I don’t appreciate being told what to do.”

“That’s how he is,” I said. “I used to work for him as an assistant. He was always keeping everyone busy. Time wasted is money lost.”

Minho snickered at my poor imitation of Mr. Kim’s accent. “I’d kick his skinny ass if I was any less patient.”

I resisted the urge to laugh at Minho’s “restraint” because my husband was notorious for acting without consideration for the consequences. “Don’t be late for your first recording session.”

Minho pouted, looking down at me with wide, brown eyes. “You aren’t coming?”

“I’ll be there soon,” I promised him with a quick kiss. “I have something to do first.”

Minho was hesitant to leave me behind, but I offered him another encouraging kiss before retreating in the opposite direction to my office. It seemed that I would need reinforcements for this particular occasion, and I knew there were only two men who I could force to help me. As such, I found Jeongin and Seungmin loitering around their desks, passing back and forth what appeared to be a paper airplane. “I wasn’t aware I made any prior aviation requests.”

Jeongin let out a small whine, quickly disposing of the distraction in the bin next to his desk. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Look, I’m actually in a hurry today and there’s too much going on for me to handle your hijinks,” I said, beckoning the interns to follow me into my office. “I have an important assignment for you.”

“Of course!” Seungmin agreed, walking ahead to grab the door. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee.”

“It’s about Minho.”

“Lee Minho?”

I turned around to glare at Jeongin. “Who else? Or did I receive notice of another client with the same name?”

Jeongin shook his head furiously. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lee. It’s just...”

“Minho has a history with interns,” Seungmin finished. “And maybe people in general.”

I laughed at their suggestions. “You’ll be with me the entire time, alright?”

They both visibly relaxed. “So we don’t have to help him?”

“Not directly,” I affirmed, moving around my desk. “Sit down, boys.” They both complied quickly, looking up at me with wide and innocent eyes that reminded me of my days in university. “Minho and 3racha have a recording session scheduled for this afternoon.”

Jeongin squealed from his chair. “The 3racha! I love their music! Oh, do you think it’d be too much to ask for an autograph?”

Upon seeing my glare, Jeongin quickly apologized. “Would it be too much to resist that urge, Mr. Yang?”

The younger boy sighed. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Anyway,” I continued, ignoring their antics. “I have your assignments.”

Seungmin leaned forward expectantly. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee!”

“Your job,” I said, glancing back and forth between Jeongin and Seungmin, “is to make sure that Minho doesn’t piss off 3racha.”

“How?” Jeongin asked with sad eyes that almost forced me to change my mind on the spot.

“Just make sure you’re at their recording sessions with me,” I said. “Intervene whenever it seems like they might argue.”

“Intervene?”

I sighed impatiently. “I don’t know, improvise or something, but nothing bad needs to happen or Mr. Park will chew my ass out for disrupting a perfectly good collaboration opportunity.”

Seungmin and Jeongin looked at each other before sighing in defeat. “Does this mean we’ll be getting a raise?”

Here’s the thing about my job: despite Minho’s insistence, he was not the only client I represented. For example, I was also currently working on the debut of a new boy group who were incredibly talented and highly charismatic. They were also obedient and respectful, doing whatever they could to make my job easier even though I never asked them to sacrifice their free-time to practice their dancing and singing. When I worked with their leader, I couldn’t help but think that my job was considerably easier in comparison to the extra effort sometimes required to fix Minho’s mistakes, like the time he showed up an hour late for an interview because I forgot to set the alarm in our bedroom. Nonetheless, it always seemed like I was doing something extra to remedy Minho’s abrasive nature, which explains why I was prepared to sacrifice two of the company’s interns for the betterment of the future.

“Are you ready?” I asked the younger boys, lingering by the doorway to the studio.

Seungmin managed a nod while Jeongin murmured something that I decided to interpret as his approval. I knocked on the door expectantly, slightly relieved when Minho greeted me on the other side. “There you are,” he said. “We couldn’t possibly start without you.”

I rolled my eyes, but followed him inside with my interns hot on my heels. Minho retired to the couch, hunched over his laptop as he worked with a frown. Meanwhile, Chan, Jisung, and Changbin were busy adjusting the sound equipment while Mr. Kim watched his clients with eager eyes.

“Stay here,” I said to my nervous interns before joining Minho on the couch. “Do you actually plan to help them?”

“Believe it or not, Y/N,” Minho said. “I’m not actually procrastinating...just putting the finishing touches on the initial demo.”

He lifted one of the earbuds, offering it to me with a grin. “Are you trying to ask me something?”

Minho scoffed. “Will you please listen to my finished demo?”

I snatched the earbud from him in response, plugging my right ear and blocking out the lingering noise from the studio. The soft cadence of the piano started to play from the computer, shortly followed by Minho’s familiar breathy vocals that never ceased to amaze me. My husband was gifted with a profoundly gorgeous voice that could reach high notes that even I would struggle to obtain.

“My voice sounds angelic, wouldn’t you agree?” Minho asked.

“I see your ego has somehow managed to grow overnight.”

Minho chuckled, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “Don’t worry, I don't intend to sabotage the collaboration...I worked too hard on this demo.”

“I guess we can start then,” I said, stretching my arms high above my head as I waited for Minho to eject his flash drive. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Jisung approaching the two of us with a hesitant smile. “Good morning, Jisung,” I said, nudging Minho when he continued to remain silent.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, holding up the flashdrive. “I prepared most of the song.”

“Really?” Jisung questioned, accepting the device from Minho. “I’d like to listen.”

Jisung returned to the sound booth and Chan accepted the flash drive with a brief glance over his shoulder at Minho. My husband remained silent while Chan opened the corresponding file on the computer and everyone listened with admirable concentration while Minho’s sweet music and tender voice filled the empty studio space.

“It’s good,” Changbin acknowledged at the end, even though his tone was somewhat reluctant.

“Good enough on its own,” Minho muttered and I shot him a warning look. “Fine,” he begrudged. “I have some ideas on the arrangements.”

“Sure,” Chan nodded, leaning back against the sound booth.

“We can split up the parts,” Minho continued. “I’ll handle the chorus.”

“I see,” Chan acknowledged. “I guess that means you want us to take the verses?”

“Logical, isn’t it?” Minho snarked. “I suppose you can add a rap verse or two since that’s your...thing.”

“I could try and sing as well,” Jisung offered. “We could harmonize over the final chorus.”

“You sing?” Minho snorted. “I thought you were a rap group.”

“Does that automatically disqualify us from being singers?” Changbin asked gruffly.

“Of course not!” I interfered, inserting myself effectively between Minho and Changbin. “I’ve heard some of your vocal work and it’s absolutely beautiful.”

Minho grumbled something indecipherable under his breath from behind me, but I ignored him and continued to do my absolute best to ensure the recording session progressed as smoothly as possible. “I hope you don’t mind, but my interns will also be joining us today for their field work.”

“That’s fine with me,” Chan spoke up from his position behind the sound station. “Should we start with finalizing arrangements?”

I ushered Minho forward whose expression revealed his reluctance. However, since he was on his best behavior, Minho started conversing with Chan and the others about arranging the vocals and rap verses for the song. In return, I sat down on the couch with my interns since I wasn’t skilled enough to comprehend their impressive knowledge of song production. I knew Mr. Kim was also quite unfamiliar with their vernacular, but the proud man continued to linger around the artists as if he could possibly offer something beneficial to the professionals.

I scoffed at the idea, turning to look at Seungmin who was busy playing some sort of application on his phone. “Is this your way of doing a good job?”

He jumped at the sound of my voice, closing out of his game before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “I’m paying attention!”

From my other side, Jeongin sighed happily. “Han has the best voice.”

I tried not to laugh at Jeongin’s starstruck expression, especially since Han Jisung was a very impressive vocalist, singing Minho’s lyrics like they had come from his own imagination. “He’s quite talented,” I agreed, studying my husband to try and determine if he also shared the same opinion.

But Minho was difficult to read when he was focused on his music. He never spoke during Han’s performance, waiting until the younger boy was finished before addressing him expectantly from the recording booth. Minho sighed, pressing the button to allow him to speak directly to Jisung. “It was alright for a rapper.”

I resisted the urge to bang my head against the wall as Jisung glowered at Minho. “I’m not just a rapper.”

“The tone isn’t right,” Minho carried on as if Jisung hadn’t spoken, “we need tighter vocals.”

“My vocals are fine!” Jisung bristled and I shoved at Jeongin’s arm who immediately jumped into action. The younger intern stood up abruptly, the unexpected action commanding the attention of the entire studio...

“Who wants coffee!”

I sighed at his dramatics, but it was a decent distraction. “Why not?” Chan asked, reclining back in his chair. “It seems like we have a lot of work to do.”

Sadly, truer words had never been spoken.

Graciously, Minho managed to keep his more radical opinions to himself for the remainder of our scheduled recording sessions with 3racha. Of course, my husband always had his ways of insinuating an insult through carefully chosen words. Nonetheless, I think all parties involved knew it would be to everyone’s benefit if we finished recording the new song without arguing about Minho’s dismissive comments.

In any case, Mr. Park was thrilled with the final result, inviting me and Mr. Kim to his office after listening to the finished product. “This is exactly what I envisioned,” he said with a bright smile. “The fans will love this!”

“It was a process, sir,” I admitted, sheepishly offering Mr. Kim what I hoped was a sincere apology.

“I’ve scheduled a shooting day for the music video,” Mr. Park said. “I have the perfect concept for the song!”

“I’m sure it’s brilliant, sir,” Mr. Kim added.

“Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin have agreed to choreograph the track,” Mr. Park said. “They have some very interesting ideas for your clients.”

It was only then when I remembered that Minho liked to arrange his own dances, but since we were already this far into the collaboration, he might reluctantly agree once more. “We’ll be there,” I reassured my boss.

Unfortunately, I knew it would be a horrible shooting day when I walked outside with Minho and saw a gray sky and light misting of rain. “This is already a mess,” I said, dragging my still sleepy husband to the car.

“How long will this take?” Minho grumbled.

“If you’re willing to cooperate,” I said, fixing him with a stern glance, “then I’d imagine we can finish by this evening.”

Minho yawned. “I hate music video shoots.”

“You poor thing,” I sighed. “Whenever you finally decide to become a director, then I’m certain you’ll insist on controlling that aspect of music production as well.”

“I feel like you understand my vision, Y/N,” Minho said with an airy laugh. “I’m too tired to argue today.”

I exhaled a sigh of relief, hoping that he was being honest. “Mr. Park invited the company’s best choreographers. Please don’t insist on doing your own performance.”

“As long as they won’t have me doing anything less than artistic,” Minho said. “We should be fine.”

I chose not to take my husband’s words to heart as we drove to the shooting sight together in silence. It had started to steadily rain the longer we drove, and I had a feeling that the sky itself was foreshadowing the impending breakdown threatening to destroy all the progress we made. But I was also an optimist, and Minho was usually the least abrasive when it came to shooting music videos.

I parked my car next to the company’s van, watching a few regular staff members unload equipment from the back. “Y/N, it’s not too late for us to drive to that adorable little breakfast restaurant we like so much,” Minho reminded me.

“Shoot the video and I’ll treat you to a gourmet dinner,” I said, reaching across the console to squeeze my husband’s hand.

He was still reluctant, but I was proud when he reached into the backseat for our umbrella. We stood close together, Minho’s hand firm around my waist. In the distance, I easily found Mr. Kim talking with his clients as they fought to stay dry under one of the company’s tents.

Mr. Kim saw me first, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Y/N, you’ve decided to keep us waiting again.”

“Blame it on the weather,” I said, closing the umbrella as Minho wandered over to talk with one of the directors.

“Oh! You mean the rain pushing us into a delay? I guess I didn’t notice,” Mr. Kim returned, rolling his eyes as he led me further into the crowd of people. I faintly recognized the younger men dressed in gorgeous outfits, recalling their appearance in various music videos from some of the company’s most distinguished artists. “Y/N,” Mr. Kim smiled. “I’d like you to meet Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin. They have some excellent suggestions for the music video.”

“The honor is mine,” I said, bowing respectfully to Felix and Hyunjin. “Minho is eager to work with you.”

Felix smirked. “You don’t have to lie to us, Mrs. Lee. We know your husband prefers to work alone.”

“Ah,” I murmured. “His reputation precedes him.”

“I hope he can appreciate our efforts,” Hyunjin added. “Felix and I have been working on some new choreography for the track.”

“He’s being compliant today,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“There isn’t much of a choice,” Mr. Kim said, startling when the director attempted to speak over the white-noise of the tent’s occupants.

“Attention! We’re starting inside the school for the first scene.”

I met Minho’s eyes over the crowd of moving staff, nodding for him to obey the director’s command. “What’s the concept, Mr. Kim?”

“Friends-to-lovers?” Mr. Kim shrugged. “Your pretty husband is the main character, which I’m sure will please him greatly.”

“It’s a high school setting?”

“Yes, and he has a crush on a school girl,” Mr. Kim said. “You should know this very well, Mrs. Lee, didn’t he seduce you in the same way?”

I ignored his jab. “And 3racha?”

“Protective friends, I guess,” Mr. Kim said. “The director assured me that it wouldn’t take long to film.”

“I hope not,” I said. “The less Minho has to be here, the better.”

“Cut!” the director growled. “Mr. Lee, this is not the same choreography that we discussed with Felix and Hyunjin.”

“I tried to improvise,” my husband defended himself.

There were less than two scenes left to film and I was very close to dragging Minho away from the film shooting and knocking some sense into him. “Follow the script we discussed,” the director said. “Let’s take five.”

Chan glared at Minho as he snatched a bottle of water from the snack table. “Is it too much to ask you to cooperate, Minho?”

My husband ignored Chan, pausing in front of me to bring his forehead against mine. “I’m tired.”

I shot Chan an apologetic smile as I smoothed my hands through Minho’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled back to look at Chan who was engrossed in conversation with Jisung and Changbin. “He’s impossible to work with.”

“What’s wrong now?” I sighed, feeling another impending headache courtesy of Minho’s behavior.

“I hate Bang Chan,” Minho said. “He keeps looking at your ass.”

“Who cares?” I nearly shouted, attracting the attention of a few camera workers. “Minho, the shooting is almost over. Please, for the sake of my mental sanity, can you try to listen to the director?”

Minho’s eyes betrayed his exhaustion. “I want greasy food for dinner and a cheesy movie when I get home.”

I laughed, amused by Minho’s behavior. “Whatever you want.”

“Minho!” the director yelled. “We need you back on set.”

Minho closed his eyes and sighed. “He’s lucky I’m a professional.”

I was lingering by the snack table, picking my way through the bowl of skittles because I only liked the red kind, when I heard the unexpected sound of yelling from somewhere inside the school. My husband’s voice was easy to detect about the noise, and I stuffed a handful of candies into my mouth before deciding to investigate. As much as I’d like to imagine that the yelling was a part of the music video, common sense told me that my husband had likely gotten into another confrontation with the director.

However, the last thing I expected to see was Minho marching through the open doors of the school with Chan following him with clear annoyance. “I’m telling you it’s not good enough,” Chan said, frowning when Minho stopped by my side.

“I don’t want to film it again,” Minho said. “Besides, your reaction was genuine. The best ‘acting’ you’ve done all day.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

“Nothing,” Minho said, glaring at Chan as he reached for my hand. “The collaboration required a song and we have a finished copy and a music video. I’ve done my part, so if you’ll kindly excuse my wife and I...”

Chan shook his head. “Do whatever you want, Minho. I don’t care anymore.... But the sad part in all of this is how much I was sincerely excited to work with you, despite your reputation.”

Minho seemed at a loss for words, glancing back and forth between me and Chan. “I can’t share your sentiment, Chan,” he finally said. “I think it’s best if we make this a one time thing.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Chan agreed with a disappointed sigh.

I could only helplessly stand aside as the two bickered, wondering if it was too late to formally retire.

Sunday was the only day of the week where I could actually enjoy myself without having to worry about the company or the never-ending demands of my clients, with the exception of my husband. “Y/N,” Minho slurred from next to me in our bed.

I made a vague noise of recognition, pulling the blankets closer to my chin because it was too cold in the apartment. “What?”

“Your phone is vibrating,” Minho said, and I managed to crane my head back just enough to realize that he was right.

I reached out my hand to feel for the stupid thing on the nightstand, pulling it close enough to read the message displayed across the screen:

From Mr. Kim: Mr. Park planned some sort of elaborate interview/performance for the new collaboration. Make sure Minho is at the company tomorrow by noon.

“Who is it?” Minho asked, using one arm to drag me closer to his welcoming heat.

“Mr. Kim,” I murmured in return.

“Why?” Minho growled.

“Apparently, you have an interview with 3racha tomorrow. Mr. Park wants a live performance for the debut of the collaboration.”

“I thought I was done with them,” Minho said with a tone that suggested he was anything but pleased with the news.

“It’s just one performance,” I argued. “And you promised me that you would finish all your responsibilities.”

“You keep adding more things,” Minho gruffed.

I smirked, rolling onto my side to face my husband. “I think it’s a great idea to let the fans hear it live on the same day it starts streaming.”

“Can’t they just play the recording of my parts?”

“It won’t be the same,” I said, leaning in closer to brush my lips across the seam of his pout. “I’ll be the loudest fan screaming your name from the back.”

He chuckled, allowing one hand to pull me in closer. “Aren’t you always my biggest fan?”

“Lee Know, will you sign my albums?”

“You’re a good negotiator, sweetheart,” he said, diving in for a passionate kiss that reminded me of when we first started dating and Minho was always eager to shower me with affection.

“Minho,” I gasped, barely restraining a moan when he suddenly moved between my thighs.

“I’m sorry I’ve made things difficult,” he said, pressing sweet kisses to the skin around my calves. Tender moments like this reminded me of the person I fell in love with, slowly learning that there was more to Minho than his arrogant stage persona.

“Please,” I whispered, helping him remove my sweatpants before weaving my fingers through his hair.

“Anything for you,” Minho said, breath hot against my sensitive skin. He stuck out his tongue, tasting the heat between my legs with languid strokes that promised the best wake-up call to start the day. Not that Minho and I did anything substantial on Sundays since we preferred to watch movies and indulge in the glorious high of junk food.

More often than not, we always ended up in this position with my husband doing his best to please me. And I had no room to complain because Minho was awfully talented with his tongue, and he had me writhing against the mattress like a complete mess. “You’re too good at this,” I complained halfheartedly.

His nails dug into my hips, holding me in place while he continued to drive me over the edge. “Are you going to cum for me?”

I always broke at his husky tone, lying spent in my post-orgasmic haze as Minho feathered light kisses across my legs. In moments like this, it was impossible to think about the negative aspects of working for the company, or the drama of the collaboration. Besides, it was only one more day and Minho never broke his promises.

I found a strange, but calming quality to pacing back and forth when I came across a problem that was incredibly difficult to solve. For example, arriving at the office early to prepare last minute forms while fully expecting my husband to show up to his scheduled interview and performance without my intervention. Yet, despite my expectations, I was currently backstage with Mr. Kim and his clients while we listened to a crowd of eager fans waiting to hear the new collaboration. Unfortunately, my husband was nowhere to be seen, and that meant our schedule was in jeopardy.

“Where’s Minho?” Mr. Kim nearly screeched, raking his hands through his balding hair while remaining heavily engrossed in his phone screen.

The performance was supposed to start ten minutes ago and the fans were clearly confused. A distinct murmuring of intermingled voices echoing throughout the soundless concert hall. “Y/N?”

I turned around, using every last ounce of strength I could muster to meet Chan’s gaze. “I don’t know where he is.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, and the anger in his eyes was enough to nearly give me a premature heart attack.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, desperately ringing Minho’s number once again only to be met by the familiar greeting of his voicemail inbox.

“I knew that bastard would ruin this,” Changbin said. “He was determined from the start to see this fail.”

“It was one performance,” Jisung bemoaned, and I could only feel absolutely miserable listening to their shared complaints. But, in the words of my formidable boss, the show must go on and I couldn’t bear to disappoint the eager fans waiting to hear the song they loved.

Speaking of which, I reached out a hand to support myself against the wall when I saw Mr. Park walk backstage with his assistants. Our eyes met from across the room. “Mr. Park,” I managed, but my throat was suddenly dry despite the three empty bottles of water I had consumed.

“Y/N,” Mr. Park sighed, eliminating the distance between us. “Tell them to have 3racha perform without Minho. Our phone conversation today has certainly changed my mind about the viability of his collaboration.”

“You talked to him?” I growled, feeling nothing short of betrayed since my husband had repeatedly ignored my phone calls.

“We’ve reached an impasse,” Mr. Park explained solemnly. “Please tell Mr. Kim about the change.”

“But sir!” I tried to protest because I was extremely confused and had no idea what we needed to tell the fans.

However, Mr. Park was already focused on a new task and instead of delaying the inevitable, I found Mr. Kim talking urgently to a stage hand next to the curtain. “Introduce 3racha,” I said. “Tell them that Minho had an unexpected emergency.”

Mr. Kim, if it was even possible, grew even redder to the point where I hesitated to call for help backstage. “This is an outrage!” he finally growled, crowding me against the wall. “If this goes wrong, then I hope you know that it’s entirely your husband’s fault and his mistakes reflect poorly on your performance.

I bowed my head, because I knew that part of the blame rested on my shoulders as Minho’s manager, especially in regard to the mysterious phone call he shared with Mr. Park. In the meantime, I could hear the crowd cheer for the arrival of 3racha who performed to the best of their ability without my husband. Still, it broke my heart to know that he had somehow been excused from the performance after promising to complete the remainder of his responsibilities.

But I still wanted to give Minho the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps something happened when I left for the company and he was forced to call Mr. Park? Still, my optimism didn’t stop my hands from shaking from my grip around the steering wheel, pulling into my usual parking spot with a heavy sigh. Before our marriage, there were plenty of times when Minho tested my patience. For example, on multiple occasions I had come very close to handing in my request to have him transferred to someone else because he was sometimes impossible to handle. However, each time I would threaten to leave, Minho always convinced me to stay, turning his entire attitude around and doing his best to make up for his mistakes. He was usually successful, but today’s mishap forced me to question whether or not he was capable of recovering from this unexpected slight. And it wouldn’t just jeopardize my relationship with him as his manager, but also the close intimacy I shared with him as his wife.

I paused at the door to our apartment, trying to listen for any sound of movement from inside. “He’ll have a good excuse,” I attempted to justify, unlocking the door before dragging my feet into the entryway. “Minho?” I called out, greeting nothing but silence before I walked downstairs to his studio where Minho often liked to escape when he wanted to be alone.

I was surprised to see him inside, working on his computer as if today was just another ordinary session. “Minho,” I snapped, opening the door without bothering to knock. “We need to talk.”

Minho sighed, glancing away from his computer screen. “I know Mr. Park cancelled my performance.”

“Yeah? And you don’t think that there’s something wrong!”

“Y/N, don’t worry about the interview,” he replied. “Park called me earlier and told me he would take care of everything.”

I slowly exhaled. “I know he called you, but I don’t understand why it happened.”

“He said it wouldn’t be the last time I was involved with marketing,” Minho continued. “I told him I was under the impression that today would be the last performance. We argued for a while and he told me that I shouldn’t bother showing up today if I wasn’t committed to the project.”

I blinked twice, trying to process his words. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, barely restraining the anger. “I called you several times before Mr. Park showed up backstage.”

“I knew you’d be disappointed,” Minho said with a vulnerable tone I could hardly tolerate. “It’s not a big deal. Park knows about everything, and tomorrow we can forget about the collaboration.”

He looked at me like he was expecting me to just agree with him, but I was beyond words. Instead, I turned my back to him and retreated upstairs to our bedroom. I had fought with my husband before, but this was an entirely new level of anger and frustration.

I could hear Minho following me, but I refused to acknowledge his attempts to gain my attention. “You’re an asshole sometimes,” I growled, storming around the bedroom to find a spare set of sheets in the closet. “Let me know when you’re done being the world’s biggest jerk.”

“What are you doing?” Minho asked, blocking my path to the doorway. “We’re not done talking about this if you’re upset.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m done and you don’t always get your way,” I snapped, pushing past my husband into the living room.

“Y/N,” Minho said, reaching for my arm despite my attempts to ignore him. “I’m sorry.”

“No you aren’t,” I said, spinning around on my heel to confront him. “If you were sorry, then you’d try to make things right, but your ego has grown to such a monumental size that you can’t even accept the added weight of another mistake.”

“What are you saying?”

“You can’t make this right,” I said, tears obscuring the vision of my husband. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, expression transforming completely when he realized I was truly on the verge of a breakdown. “You know I’m not mad at you! Park knows everything, he was the one who told me not to show up!”

“It doesn’t matter,” I cried. “I asked you to do something that’s surprisingly simple for most people. Not because I wanted to punish you, but because I saw an opportunity to help Lee Know! But after the stunt you pulled today, I don’t think I’d bother helping you anymore.”

The single tear that fell from Minho’s eye would have normally been enough for me to recognize his guilt, but I wasn’t in the mood to fall back into the tedious cycle of forgiving him only to deal with another mishap in the future. “Y/N,” he said softly. “Please don’t leave me.”

I shook my head. “I need some time to think about things.”

“What do you mean?” he asked with a desperate tone. “We should talk about this, I can make it better!”

“Just let me sleep,” I begged him and he broke even more, releasing my hand with an uncharacteristic whine.

I tossed my blanket onto the couch, attempting to find a comfortable position on the leather. It was a far cry from the mattress in our bedroom, but I desperately needed space away from Minho. For now, I didn’t want to deal with the reality of our situation, which is why I was more than willing to drown myself in the familiar darkness of sleep.

The smell of bacon was surprisingly overwhelming when I woke up the next morning with lower back pain. I groaned, attempting to sit up despite the near constant throbbing. Apparently, leather sofas were built for style instead of comfort.

I opened my eyes slowly, feeling my heart jump inside my chest when I saw Minho holding a plate in my direction. “Y/N, are you okay?”

I swiped a hand across my face, remembering my argument with Minho from the previous evening. “I’m fine.”

“You should eat,” he insisted so I accepted the plate from him, shaking my head when I realized the toast was burnt, but Minho had never been a great cook. “I want to talk about last night,” Minho said. “Because you’re obviously hurt and that’s the last thing I wanted.”

“What did you expect?” I asked. “You weren’t there for the performance, you ignored my calls, and then my boss tells me that one of his artists decided he was done promoting his new single?”

Minho winced at my tone. “It’s all my fault because I decided to take everything personally. He forced me to do the collaboration when I didn’t want to participate, and it felt like he was taunting me...like I had no control over my music and he could do whatever he wanted.”

“He can, Minho,” I said. “You signed a contract with the company.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I keep forgetting that part, and it’s really stupid how much I let it affect me, but I hate it when things are out of my control.”

“But that’s no reason to take it on the people who were only trying to do their job,” I snapped. “Or refuse to tell your own wife!”

“I understand,” Minho nodded. “I was too caught up in my problems to realize that everyone was suffering because of my decisions.”

“What are you going to do about it?” I asked, holding my breath because I was dreading his answer.

“I’ll apologize to them,” Minho said, hanging his head in shame. “I need you to know that I’m sorry for everything.”

My heart broke at the sorrowful expression he wore, completely uncharacteristic of my husband...as was his decision to apologize since I halfway expected Minho to threaten his leave from the company. However, I also sometimes forgot that Minho was more than the way he acted around other people, and his sincerity was perfectly evident for me to recognize. “I know you are, but sometimes you do things without thinking about the consequences.”

“I’m aware,” he chuckled. “And I usually don’t really care, but that’s selfish...especially when it hurts you.”

“It is selfish,” I agreed. “How do I know you won’t do this again in the future?”

“Because I’ll remind myself of this moment,” he said. “I’ll remember what happened last night and do whatever I can to prevent it from happening again.”

I was stunned by his determination. “Are you really going to apologize to everyone?”

“I am,” he nodded. “Of course, your forgiveness matters the most.”

I took a deep breath, processing his words and the steady way he continued to hold my gaze. “You know I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against my lips. “I need you more than anything else in the world.”

My heart warmed at his declaration. “I wonder what everyone at the company would think if they saw how cheesy you are.”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“Not as long as you behave,” I returned, laughing at the way he held me tighter, feeling nothing short of safe and secure in his familiar embrace.

Mr. Kim was surprisingly calm when I requested a meeting between our clients. In fact, I was shocked that he even accommodated my request considering our bad relations. However, I recognized an opening, walking down the hallway next to Minho who was clearly nervous as he hugged the bottle of champagne we brought as an apology gift.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Mr. Kim greeted us upon our arrival, sparing Minho a grimace before inviting us inside the studio.

Chan and Jisung were sitting together on the couch, glancing up only when Minho paused in front of them. Meanwhile, Changbin stood against the wall, watching my husband with narrowed eyes. Minho held tightly to the bottle of champagne in his hands, glancing between the three men who all wore similar expressions of disdain. “I’m sorry for the interview,” he said. “It was really selfish and immature.”

Chan arched one eyebrow, glancing between me and Minho. “Really?”

I quietly offered Minho a small push against his lower back, encouraging him to continue. “I rehearsed this,” Minho chuckled, “but it’s hard to swallow my pride.”

“Take your time,” I whispered to him softly.

“Well, let me start by saying that I was wrong about the whole collaboration thing,” he said. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and you guys did everything to help us succeed.”

Changbin scoffed. “You certainly made it more difficult.”

Jisung nodded furiously in agreement. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this much trouble with promotion.”

“I know,” Minho agreed. “I was just upset because I have this stupid thing with Park and he knows that I have...problems working with other people.”

“That’s an understatement,” Changbin said, glowering at my husband with obvious disapproval.

“Honestly,” Minho said, swallowing hard. “The song is one of my favorites. I wouldn’t mind collaborating again in the future.”

“Well-” Jising broke off, staring at Mino with something akin to shock. “Huh?”

Chan frowned. “You really made us look bad on stage.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Minho sighed. “I was being an enormous jerk, trying to stick it to the man or something ridiculous and it played out better in my head.”

I reached out a comforting hand, squeezing Minho’s shoulder for support. “I think he knows his decision was wrong.”

Minho nodded. “You might be upset with me and I understand. I’m sorry for everything that happened, and if you decide I don’t deserve to be taken seriously, then I won’t blame you.”

Minho ended his speech with a nervous cough, thrusting out the bottle of champagne in Jisung’s direction who accepted the bottle hesitantly. “Minho,” Chan said, closing his laptop with a sigh. “I know about your history when it comes to working with other artists.”

“It’s not exactly a glowing resume,” Minho admitted.

“No, but that’s the only reason why I know that your apology was sincere,” Chan said. “If you’re really serious, then I think we can move past this.”

Changbin nodded his agreement. “Mr. Park also explained some of the...politics behind the interview fiasco.”

“I guess it’s hard for you,” Chan shrugged. “I’m glad you came here to make things right.”

“And the champagne is nice,” Jisung added quickly to which Minho managed a smile.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

“Well, if you were serious about collaborating again, we can start with line distributions,” Changbin said, leaning in with a smirk. “I want to sing next time.”

Minho laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“In that case, we have cause for celebration,” Jisung cheered. “Mr. Kim, do we have spare glasses?”

In the meantime, I took a step back to allow the four men space to talk together, distributing several glasses of champagne before laughing at Jisung’s failed attempt not to spill anything on the carpet. It was certainly admirable, and I found myself simply watching Minho from across the room. This was nothing short of substantial progress, and I cherished the moment because it promised very good things for the future.

And at one point, Minho snuck away from his new collaborators to join me at the sound booth. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m glad you’ve always been at my side.”

I reached out for his hand, watching Chan, Changbin, and Jisung hold up their champagne glasses in our direction. “You know? I’m really excited about your next project.”

Minho grinned, leaning his forehead against mine. “I think I could get used to this...as long as you’ll be there.”

I sighed happily, closing my eyes to remember this moment. “That will never change.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids requests #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids scenarios #skz oneshot #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #lee minho #lee know fanfic #lee know smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids minho #stray kids minho fanfic

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something-tofightfor · 5 years ago

Text

Steel City - 7

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader (…)

Word Count: 6024

Rating: M (language, talk of major character death, another hard converstion)

Summary: This time, it’s not Billy you get the story from - it’s Frank.

Author’s Note: Moving right along... but the coming parts are less talking more Christmas... and a lot more *fun* .. I promise. Thank you for keeping up with this one so far!

The first seven parts of this are on my masterlist, under the “Billy Russo” link if you need to catch up.

(images edited by @gollyderek, banner by me)

You’d emailed Madani back after leaving Billy’s apartment, just touching base with her and asking a few questions so that you could start working on her proposal. To your surprise, her return email came just after 5 pm, which gave you more to go on. The more you learned what she was interested in from Taylor Focus, the more you believed that Frank and Billy were right. They don’t want the company, they want the people, or at least… that’s what the underlying goal is.

You hadn’t heard from anyone that night, and so when you’d walked past the security office the following morning, you’d quietly said hello to Frank, the man looking less than surprised that you were speaking to him. During lunch with your father - it hadn’t been snowing yet - the two of you spoke candidly, the man apologizing for not including you with his hiring of Frank and Billy, you apologizing for flying off the deep end at finding out. There hadn’t been time to get into things the way you had with Karen or Billy, but it was a start.

You’d felt better about things by the end of the meal, pausing with him long enough on the plaza to glance at the ice skaters circling the tree before the two of you rode the elevator up to your floor. He’d warned you of the same things Billy had - to keep up appearances, to work as if nothing was amiss - and so you did just that, going back and forth with Madani throughout the week, along with working with your team on other projects. You were busy, but it kept your mind off of things for the most part. By the end of that week, you were back in full on work mode, the shaky beginning to it pushed to the side in favor of looking forward and getting through the threat - whatever it ended up being.

You also didn’t see Frank and Billy much, and not at all outside of work. They ate together in the cafe a lot, and you saw them either as you walked in or out to get food or to pass through in order to get to other offices, but aside from nods of their heads or a small, quick smile, you didn’t speak. He said everything he wanted to say, I’m sure. The thought pained you, and though you and Karen kept up a steady stream of texts - you inviting the woman to come shopping with you and Kasey the next time you went out - that was it. Karen was your contact point, and each time you got a new email from Madani, you let Karen know - figuring that in turn, she’d let Lieberman, Frank and Billy know.

You sent the final draft of your initial proposal over to Madani on Friday, letting the woman know that in order to move forward, you recommended her visiting the facility to meet some of the candidates, see how they trained with you, and to sign the final contract. I can meet any time next week, just let me know what works for you, and we can get travel set up so that you have a place to stay. Being nice to the woman pained you - not only because of the fact that she was working with Rawlins for some unknown reason, but because of the way she’d treated Billy at his lowest. Just as you were getting ready to leave for the weekend, you got a response from Madani, the email short and to the point - but friendly.

No need. I’ll fly in on Tuesday morning, we can meet that day, and I’ll fly back to New York that night. No reason to stay if all I’m doing is signing some papers and taking a tour. Agreeing, you closed your laptop and locked it in your desk. It’ll be simple enough to relay that to them, they don’t need to access it. Taking the elevator up to your father’s office, you made it all the way to his door before you remembered that he had a late afternoon meeting. Alright, well, I guess I’m going home then.

You had to pass the security office again on your way out, and even though you didn’t stop, you were surprised to see a familiar figure heading for the doors in front of you. “Frank?” He stopped, spinning to look at you. “Why are you going out the front?”

“Karen needed the car today, so I walked.” I didn’t realize they only had one car. “It’s snowin’ now, but it’s not far.”

“I can take you. We’re going to the same place.” It was the first time the two of you had said more than a few words to each other since Monday, and he weighed his options for a few seconds before agreeing. When you were buckled in, you let the car warm up, your hands resting in your lap. Say something. Frank was quiet, staring out the window, and you figured that if he was going to start talking, he already would have. “I’m sorry I assumed… that you were dangerous.” It sounded stupid coming out of your mouth, but you continued. “I didn’t know what I was talking about, and I -”

“You were right, though. I am.” His voice was rough, but honest. “I woulda been pissed if I were you. Dad keepin’ shit from you, feelin’ like you were lied to… shit sucks.” It does. You put the car into reverse, backing out of your spot, “Bill and I… we didn’t want to keep all this a secret, but your dad, just wanted you to feel safe, yeah? Didn’t want you to worry.” You nodded, pulling into traffic. “You’re still his kid, and he doesn’t want to think about anything happenin’ to you.”

“Frank, Billy told me… what happened.” You knew you had to be cautious with the way you spoke. “I can’t even imagine that, and I’m… I’m so, so sorry.” There was nothing else to say, and you hoped it was enough. “If Rawlins is closure, then you need it. You both do. You deserve it. He’s a piece of shit, and I don’t know what you talked about with my dad when you first met him, but -”

“That’s not somethin’ you need to worry about.” His voice was different, and when you glanced over at him, he was staring out your windshield, eyes on the swirling flakes. “The less you know about that, the better. Even Karen doesn’t…” His jaw tightened. “She worries about me - about me an’ Bill too much, and I think she hoped we’d never get the chance to…” He took a deep breath as you pulled into your parking garage. “Shit changes, yeah?” It does. The conversation with Frank wasn’t as easy as the one with Karen - or as revealing as the one with Billy - but it felt right.

“You guys have plans this weekend?” The two of you entered the elevator, Frank pushing the buttons for both floors, the doors sliding shut. “You and Karen, I mean?”

“Yeah, we’re drivin’ back to New York, that’s why she has the car, she’s gettin’ everything ready.”

“What’s in New York? That’s a -”

“We need to be seen.” He sighed. “Just in case people are watchin’, we have to be seen in the city, like we’re where we always are.” Oh, so that means… “Bill’s cover is that he’s out with some guys on an assignment, has been for a couple weeks already, so…” Wait, so is Anvil still up and running?

“You covered all-” You stopped as the elevator stopped, the lights dimming briefly. What? “Oh, no. Not this. Not…” You stepped toward the control panel, pressing the button for your floor repeatedly, but nothing changed.

“We stuck?” You nodded at Frank’s question, groaning. “This happen often?” Too often, yeah. “I can see if I can -”

“No, thanks. I think we’re between floors, and I have no interest in climbing…” You sighed. “At least there’s a phone, so we can call the office.” You did just that, letting the property manager know that you were stuck, and she said that she’d call someone out. Who knows how long that’s going to take. Hanging the phone up, you slumped against the wall, bringing your eyes up to the man you were with. “The last time the elevator was stuck, it took almost an hour for someone to get here because it was the weekend.”

“It’s the weekend now.” His eyes widened. “Does that -”

“Not only is it the weekend, Frank, but it’s rush hour.” He groaned at that, one large hand scrubbing over his face. “You might want to call Karen and let her know you’re going to be a little while, if you have service.” You knew he likely did - the elevator never gave you a problem, and within a few seconds, he was on the phone with Karen, explaining your situation. Trying not to listen, you were surprised when your own phone rang. Kasey or my dad. But it wasn’t - Billy’s name was on the screen. What does he want? “Hello?”

“Hey.” It was the first time you’d heard his voice on the phone, and even the single word with a slight echo made you pause. Why is he calling me on a Friday? “You out of work?”

“Yeah, I am, I -” You glanced up, seeing that Frank was still talking on his phone, his voice loud in the small space. “I’m actually -”

“You with someone?” There was an edge to Billy’s voice, and even though there was a chance you were imagining it, you allowed yourself to feel surprise. What? “I hear a -”

“No, I’m stuck in the elevator in the Encore, actually, and -” You sighed, leaning back against the wall. “And I’m stuck with your best friend, who is on the -”

“That you, Bill?” At Frank’s words, you pulled the phone away from your ear, pressing the speaker button. “You askin’ her who she’s -”

“Nah, you asshole, I was just wonderin’ who the guy was that sounded like he was talkin’ right into her ear, and -” Frank laughed, bringing his phone back up to his cheek and returning to his conversation with Karen. You waited a second and then pushed the button again, holding your phone back to your ear. “So you’re stuck with ‘im?” You agreed, eyes on the other man. “Damn.”

“Why, what’s going on?” You rubbed the side of your neck. “I figured we’d talk over the weekend but -”

“They’re goin’ out of town for the weekend, and I was gonna see if you wanted to… I donno, maybe see a movie or somethin’?” It surprised you - the way he was asking. He doesn’t want to spend the weekend alone, and he knows me, so it’s easy. “I bet you’re busy, but I figured if I asked you before it got too late, you -”

“Yeah.” Swallowing, you decided to go with it, no matter the reason behind his invite. “Unfortunately, I don’t know how long we’ll be in here, the last time it was stuck it was an hour, and I’m starving, so…” Billy laughed, and you realized how much you liked the sound. Oh, no. “If it’s too late tonight, how about tomorrow? I know it’s a Saturday, but…”

“I got nothin’ else goin’ on.” Coming from anyone else, the phrase would have sounded like he was settling, but from Billy, it seemed different. He could ask anyone at work, and they’d say yes. “What floor are you guys stuck on, maybe I can -”

“Frank wanted to pry the doors open from the inside..” You eyed Frank, who had already ended his call and was watching you closely, eyes focused on your face. “But I’m not about to watch him push the doors apart with his bare hands and then climb -” Billy laughed again, quickly cutting it off. “So we’ll just wait. It’s not that bad, at least it’s warm in here.”

“You gonna talk to him?” The change in topic startled you, but you answered quickly, telling him that you didn’t know. “You should. I don’t think you’ll get the same kinda story you got from me, but…” You heard him sigh. “You need to hear some of it from him, if he’ll tell you.” He was right, you realized as you hung up, telling him you’d let him know when you were free, and once your phone was back in your purse, you stared at your feet, thinking.

“You like him, yeah? Bill?” Frank’s voice was quiet, but you heard that he was genuinely curious. “He said that he told you everything that happened.” Bringing your eyes up to meet Frank’s, you saw that he was still staring at you, both arms crossed over his chest. “There are only a couple people that know the whole story. Me. Karen. Bill’s doctor doesn’t know all of it, just the… the surface level shit. He thinks I went off the rails to try an’ get revenge for my family, but he doesn’t know about Kandahar or Rawlins or…” So you’ve kept this to yourselves? The whole time? And no one - “I’m just Billy Russo’s psychotic best friend.”

“Wait a minute.” You sidestepped his question about Billy and shifted on your feet. “How are you… you said you and Karen had to be seen in New York, but if they think that…”

“No one’s really lookin’ for me. That’s the one thing Madani did that was good for us. She got involved and no one questioned anything. Bill and I kept… we kept Rawlins a secret because we didn’t want anyone else to get to him.” Frank pressed his lips together, head lowering. “Was a shit plan, but at least… at least it meant that we had a chance to get ‘im.” The man stopped speaking, collecting his thoughts and when he finally looked back at you, his eyes were clear. “She thought it was over. Bennett. Wolf. Schoonover. Their guys. All dead. There’s no goddamn record of Rawlins anywhere near Kandahar, no Cerberus, no… no way to tie him to Anvil, so she thought once all that shit was taken care of…”

“It’s over.” He nodded. “You got your revenge, and there’s… no more.”

“Exactly.” He tilted his head to the side. “So Madani got her superiors to leave me alone. Billy was never involved in it more than bein’ my best friend - as far as she knew - so he was clean.” He shrugged. “We’ve been workin’ on this ever since, an’ with his money and reputation…” You considered his words. “He closed Anvil, it’s just private contracting now we do now, but… we’ve kept busy.”

“People hire you?” You winced, but Frank only laughed. “I mean knowing what… the things you…”

“They do. I’m good at what I do. So’s Bill. It’s not… we’re not doin’ anything illegal anymore, except maybe with some surveillance, but there’s…” You watched as he lifted one hand to the top of his head, running his palm over his scalp. “First time in 20 years that I’ve had a job where I don’t always wake up and gotta worry about gettin’ killed before the end of the day.” He spoke more candidly about his time in the military than many of the men and women you came into contact with, but you understood why. That has to be… “You never answered me, though.” Frank cleared his throat.”You like Bill?”

“I do.” You decided to answer Frank honestly. “He seems like he’s got a lot to figure out, but he’s a -”

“That’s not what I mean.” Frank stood up straight. “And you know it.” I’m not answering this. I’m not…

“I don’t know him, Frank.” I guess I am answering this. “And you guys won’t be here long enough to -”

“Huh.” Frank chuckled, tongue dragging over his lower lip. “Shit.” You caught his brief smile, the way his eyes moved over you. What is he… “Bill’s like my little brother.” I know, I… “At first, when he told me what was goin’ on, I wanted to kill him. Because I didn’t understand how he could… he had us.” Frank swallowed. “But for some people, a family’s not enough, you know? You gotta have all the shit that goes with it. Cars. Money. Clothes. All that bullshit was important to him, and he just… didn’t think.” I guess he’s going to talk to me. “Bill was happy - and then he wasn’t, and then he told me what Rawlins wanted him to do, and…” Frank swore. “I doubted him at first, but he… he convinced me, all the shit he said was going to happen happened, so I figured he’d be able to… but he couldn’t. Rawlins didn’t trust him, and by the time Bill was able to warn me?” Frank’s eyes were red-rimmed, but he didn’t falter. “That day at the park? It was perfect. All that was missing was Uncle Bill.”

You watched his posture change, watched the way he stood, saw the look in his eyes. “Frank, you don’t have to -”

“No, see, I do. Because you need to understand why even though I’m being paid to keep you and your dad and your company safe, it’s always gonna be about me and Bill. About me keepin’ … keepin’ him alive.” Oh. “I knew Lisa was gone before I even got to her. Knew it.” He took a breath. “An’ I knew Maria was, too, because of the way she fell. Didn’t even reach for Jr. But Bill, he did. I looked away from Lisa for a second, because I heard Bill, saw him runnin’ for my boy, saw the blood comin’ from his face, and then, even after I got shot…” Frank absently touched the side of his head, the scar you assumed was there completely hidden by his short hair. “I saw him pick Jr. up. Saw him runnin’ in the opposite direction, saw him… saw him tryin’ to get somewhere safe.”

Frank’s voice was thick, and he took a few seconds to compose himself, staring down at his boots. “I saw him go down, too. That was the last thing I saw. My wife. My kids. My best friend - saw ‘em all… and I didn’t know why.”

“Frank, I -” You stepped toward the man, wanting to offer physical support, but thought better of it when you saw that Frank was so tightly wound by the grief of his story that he was shaking. He won’t hurt me, but he’s…

“I remembered the second I woke up, but I was too weak to get outta bed, so I had to… They wouldn’t tell me anything except that they’d already buried Maria and the kids, her parents couldn’t put it off because they didn’t think I was going to wake up, and they needed to… needed to get it over with.” He finally looked at you again, and the look on his face was another one that you underwood well - a depth of loss that no one should have ever had to carry written across all of his features. “No one mentioned Bill. No one would tell me a goddamn thing. But, I figured that the odds of both of us survivin’, both of us bein’ too goddamn stubborn to die after bein’ ambushed like that?” His head moved back and forth slowly. “So I left. And since I knew who’d been at the head of it, I started connectin’ the dots.”

You knew the next part of the story - how he’d gone after the individual gangs that had been there, eliminating them one by one and trying to find out the names of the other government officials involved. How that had led him to the heroin’s major player: Schoonover. How that time had led him to Karen and Wilson Fisk, prison time for the murders of the gang members. “It wasn’t just for Maria and the kids. It was for Bill, too. I thought… I thought since he wasn’t there to do it himself, someone had to… someone had to honor his memory and finish what he started.” Frank laughed, the sound bitter. “I didn’t give a shit what happened to me because I was doin’ what I needed to do… and then when I blew up the boat?” Frank wrinkled his nose. “Gave me more time. I knew Bill was alive at that point, but he was… he was healin’, havin’ surgeries, dealing with… with losing all of ‘em. He knew what I was doin’, wanted to help, but I wouldn’t let him. He had to stay clean. I was already so deep in shit, but he wasn’t.” You tried to bear it all. Jesus.

“You were both alone.” You sighed, a tear running down your cheek. “You were so close, but you were both alone, because you couldn’t go to him, and he didn’t know how to get to you.” Frank agreed with you. “God, that’s… that’s… Frank, I …”

“The first day I was able to see him again?” His voice changed again. “It felt like… I got part of my family back. I couldn’t ever go back to Maria’s family, they thought … I got their daughter killed. And I guess I did, but… that goddamn video was the problem.” He hissed, lip curling. “But Bill? Shit, it was…” He lost himself in the memory. “Lieberman was the one that sent the video to Madani in the first place, but I couldn’t be pissed at him because he was just trying to help himself and his family, because he… he just wanted to do the right thing, wanted to make sure... “

“Did Lieberman help you find Billy?” You held up a hand. “Not find him, but… get back in touch with him?” Frank nodded. “I can’t imagine what that was like for you guys, to see…”

“He thought I was dead, so it was… he didn’t believe it at first. Bill was a couple surgeries in at that point. He had all kinds of money saved, so they were able to fix a lot of it, but for that first year, it was...he was healin’, and I could tell… he was different.”

“What do you mean?” You bit down on your lower lip. “Everyone keeps saying that he’s so different, but -”

“I don’t mean the way he looks. It was a lot worse at first, but they took good care of him in the hospital. Fixed his face as much as they could, but his stomach is… and his head? Inside? He had a lot of shit to deal with, and I think seein’ me again helped, but… therapy only does so much when you won’t forgive yourself.”

“So that’s…” Frank nodded. You covered your face with both hands, closing your eyes. “I knew he…”

“Soon as he ran into that gunfire and grabbed for my kid I forgave him. But he still can’t…not even Karen can get through to him.” That surprised you - she was tenacious, and you knew it. If she’d been able to make Frank understand things, to feel things, Billy shouldn’t have been far behind. “But I think until Bill’s got Rawlins on his knees in front of him, and he can end it?” Frank’s lips were pressed together, his eyes hard. “Nothin’ anybody says is going to make any difference.”

Both you and Frank went silent, and you saw that he was deep in thought. This has to take a lot out of him. I can’t… Why is he telling me so much? It was great to get his point of view on the things that Karen and Billy had told you, and you were even more encouraged that their stories lined up. Either they’re all really good liars, or…

“‘S long as I’ve known him, Bill’s always been real confident.” Frank’s tone changed again, softening. “Women. Work. Deployment. He didn’t have much growing up, but he had that… that attitude, yeah? I kind of envied him. I was married when we met, and I loved Maria, but seein’ Bill? Seein’ him just livin’? I was happy for him, and kinda… kinda wished I had some of that same opportunity. We’d go out and he’d have his pick of women to take home. He loved the attention. He was good at everythin’ he tried to do. It wasn’t even hard for him.” He said your name. “When I talk about ‘before’ for Bill? And after? That’s what I mean. Doesn’t matter what he looks like to me - and I know it’s right there, waitin, but Bill’s not confident anymore. He has his moments, but it’s like… he second guesses everything now.”

“You mean with -”

“I mean everything. The only thing that he doesn’t doubt is work. Bill’s the toughest sonofabitch I’ve ever met, and he’s one of the smartest too. I’d trust him with my life. Have plenty of times. But there’s gotta be more to life. It’s not all work. Not all fightin’. Not all… skill.” He said the same thing. He was talking about an after for you. “He hates attention now. Hates thinkin’ people are looking at him.”

“I told him that he has nothing to worry about. The people at work? The women that he’s interested in? I’m sure some of them aren’t…would turn him down, but… the majority?” You rolled your eyes. “I think you’re right, Frank. I don’t know him well, but I know a lot of this is in his head. And I believe you that when he finally gets to…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, because you didn’t know exactly what Billy would do to Rawlins, but you knew Frank understood. “You’ll get your brother back after that. And you guys can… he’ll go back to being the same Billy that you -”

“Don’t want the same Bill as before. I just want… just want him to feel like himself again.” You didn’t know how to reply to that. Everything that Frank told you made perfect sense. His acceptance of Billy’s desire to make something for himself, the way he’d understood why Billy agreed to Rawlins’ demand, the way Frank viewed Billy still blaming himself for not doing more.

‘Frank?” You finally spoke, swallowing back a thick lump in your throat. “Why… how is there nothing about you guys online? If all this is true, and it happened, there’d be a -”

“Lieberman.” Frank grinned, the smile wide. “The more people could find about me an’ Bill and everything that happened, the worse off we figured we’d be. So after everything settled down, he went through and got rid of most of it.” Why? You could … he could… “Let just enough up so it didn’t look fake, but we didn’t… Karen dug. That’s how she helped me at first. All that shit about the park and my family was still there, an’ she… I think she’s still got the articles and all that shit from when she first… but we didn’t want people putin’ shit together, especially when Madani started diggin’ around.” Oh, I didn’t even get that… I wouldn’t have thought… “And we know it worked, because Madani’s never found anything to connect us to Rawlins, or -”

“But wouldn’t she wonder where everything was? Wouldn’t she wonder why -”

“The government hides more shit than you know, kid. She probably just figures it’s above her paygrade.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time. An’ she doesn’t need information about that, she needs information about us. And you can still get that shit - we still exist. We’re still on file, just not...not online.”

“Goddamn.” You swore quietly, sliding down so that you were sitting with your back against the back wall. “Frank, I… that…”

“Some shit yeah?” He sat too, his legs stretched out in front of him, one slightly bent. “Lieberman works like a goddamn dog to keep ahead of everything. Smart as hell, real honest. You’d like him, I think.” Too bad I won’t meet him. “We keep him as far away from all this shit as possible because hes got a family. Wife, kids, the whole deal. And he’s earned it.” It sounds like it. “How long has it been?” You checked your phone, frowning.

“Almost 45 minutes. They have to be close.” I hope. “I’m sorry I’m asking so many questions, I just -”

“Karen did the same thing.” His tone softened when he talked about the woman. “First met her, she was convinced that I was worth helpin’, even when I didn’t think so. I was stubborn.”

“You, stubborn?” He smiled again, ducking his head. “Tell me something I don’t know, Frank.”

“You two are gonna get along real well.” He laughed again. “I guess… I was so focused on Maria and the kids and Bill, I wasn’t even really payin’ attention to Karen. I appreciated her - and the two lawyers she was with, but… I had a plan. I had a mission. And I had to finish it.”

“But you fell for her.” You didn’t ask. “You realized that you felt something, and you… you acted on it?” That got a nod. “I bet that was hard.”

“Oh, it was. I felt like the world’s biggest piece of shit every time I even thought about Karen. It was like I was doin’ all this shit for my wife and kids, but I was…” He frowned. “Had a lot of time to think, especially after that explosion, and when she didn’t give up? She still helped me? Still helped Bill?” His hand moved over the back of his neck. “Figured I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Maria wasn’t comin’ back, and with Karen? She knew what I was - what I did, what I was doin’, and she didn’t run. She did not run. Not from me, not from the truth, not from anything.” And he loves her. He realized it, and he didn’t… “Proposin’ to her was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He stopped speaking after that, tilting his head back and leaning it against the wall behind him.

What a week. You lowered your eyes, focused on your feet. And next week… “Madani’s coming in on Tuesday. So you guys will want to… make sure she doesn’t see you.” He grunted in agreement, and when you glanced up, saw that he was watching you.

“Are you worried? Afraid? Do you -”

“Of her?” You shook your head. “She’s just a client. And as far as clients go, she’s been easy to work with so far. I know it’s because whatever we’re setting up, she doesn’t really want, but…” You held a hand up in an “ehh” gesture, staring at Frank. “Of Rawlins? Yes. He seemed… off last week. I haven’t spent a lot of time with him, but he just seemed different, and knowing what I do now, some of the shit he said makes me think he…” You swallowed. “There are no boundaries with him. I know that for sure, and I don’t… if he’s working through her, he shoudn’t have to come back, but I feel like… he’s going to find out you two are here, and… he will.”

“That’s the plan.” Frank met your eyes. “But not until we’re ready.”

“And when’s that?” You were curious for your own sake, as well as theirs. “Billy mentioned the Christmas party, but -”

“That’s what we’re thinkin’. Gives us just about two weeks to get a plan goin’ but we need to know what Madani’s gonna do before we decide.” Oh. So this is… on me. “We’ll either need to set somethin’ up in the room for your meeting, or have you wear a wire or…” Frank rubbed his face. “Probably just listenin’ in, because we won’t put you in danger.”

“Thank you.” It came out in a sarcastic tone, which you didn’t plan on. “Gee, Frank, thanks for -”

“It’s the best we can do. Madani won’t try shit in your dad’s office building, not with people around, and not if… not unless she knows you know Bill.” He grinned at you - the expression lopsided. “That would make her real unhappy.”

“He mentioned that they were seeing each other.” Frank waited. “And that she didn’t handle him ending it well. But he also said he saw her after, and she was more interested in you by then. So why -”

“Women.” He laughed. “Madani pretends she’s tough as shit, but she was real upset that he didn’t wanna be with her. Her reaction to him gettin’ hurt is because she’s tryin’ to hurt him the way he hurt her.” How dare she. “I think she’s still hung up on him, and so does Karen. She didn’t have to go see ‘im after he got out of the hospital, but she did.” Thinking of it from that angle hadn’t occurred to you. You figured that if Billy had ended things with Madani, she’d gotten the hint. But maybe not. Great, one more thing for me to worry about. “That’s the thing about Bill.” Frank was speaking quietly again. “He never kept anyone around for long then, and now? It’s like he doesn’t want to give anyone the chance to really know him, so it’s a drink here, a couple nights there, but as soon as they start askin’ questions? They’re gone.”

“Got it.” You cleared your throat. “Won’t ask him questions. I’ve gotta do something to keep him around here until you guys are done.” It was supposed to be a joke, but you halfway meant it. If I push him away or distract him, it won’t end well. “Thanks for telling me.”

“You kidding?” Frank leaned forward. “He’s already told you more than anyone else I know that wasn’t directly involved in some way.” I’m directly involved, Rawlins was in my office last week. “I think you could ask him a-” Frank was cut off by a loud banging noise on the other side of the elevator’s doors. Oh thank God. “Finally.” He stood, calling out. “We’re here, you got the right floor.” You stood too, crossing your arms. “It’s about goddamn time.” You could hear voices from the other side of the doors as you stepped next to Frank. “Where do you think we are?”

“I don’t know, probably close to your floor.” You sighed. “I’ll be walking up to my apartment, there’s no way I’m getting on another elevator right now.” He laughed at that, and when, a few minutes later, the doors were pried open, you blinked quickly, sighing in relief. I’ve never been so happy to see this damn hallway in my life. You were between floors, and in order to exit the elevator, you had to step upward nearly a foot. The property manager was standing with the crew that had freed you, and as you stepped forward, feeling Frank’s hand pressed against your back as you lifted your knee, you took a long, deep breath. “We’re on 12, Frank. One flight of stairs for you, six for me.”

You spoke with the people gathered in the hallway, letting them know that you were alright and explaining what had happened. That done, you began walking up the stairs, next to Frank. “What did Bill want?” Stopping next to the door that led to his hall, Frank turned to face you. “Why’d he call you?”

“He wanted to know if I wanted to see a movie this weekend since you guys are… were leaving.” You checked your phone. “Probably too late tonight, but maybe tomorrow.”

“You should go with him.” Frank rubbed the top of his head. “Couldn’t tell you the last time Bill invited someone to a movie.” Yeah, usually it’d just be a drink or two, right? “He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want you to say yes.”

“Even now?” Frank considered your question for a few seconds, studying you and then he gave you that same lopsided grin again before he turned away from you, reaching for the door handle.

“Especially now.”

---

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seokjxnnie · 6 years ago

Text

celestial (pt. 1) | kth (m)

genre: (future) smut, angst, demon au, incubus!taehyung x reader warnings: blood and violence, aloof asshole taehyung length: 5.3k

↳ her flesh and blood imparts immortality to any demon, but the incubus protecting her from the hunt requires something else of her body.

masterlist | part 2 ↠

a/n: let me know if you would like to be tagged in future updates! thanks!!

Everything was a little out of focus, but those piercingly red eyes were impossible to dismiss. Long, slender fingers unbuttoned her shirt. A heavy, aching fatigue paralyzed her, yet she still managed quiet mewls when a pair of lips cascaded tender caresses down the side of her waist. A scarce twinge of pain followed each stroke of a tongue, inspiring her to lightly squirm, but strong hands held her hips down. Eventually, with each kiss against her skin, she felt better, revitalized. Her vision gave to a slow fade.

She stirred in her sleep, rousing awake.

A dream. An inexplicable yet vivid dream. She wasn’t sure how long she napped for, but it must’ve been for too long if she felt this lightheaded. Sluggishly, her eyes opened, adjusting to the light as she stretched in silky sheets.

Her body suddenly went rigid, remembering she didn’t have silky sheets. A jolt upright and she found herself in a foreign environment. She was in a bed she didn’t know, in a room that wasn’t hers, wearing clothes that didn’t fit her. Before fear crippled her limbs, the door opened and revealed a kind face.

“Oh, Princess, you’re awake.” Soft eyes greeted her. “My name is Seokji—”

She flinched and tousled back when he approached and extended a glass of water to her. There was a throb in her head that elicited a pained exhale from her.

“Don’t move so suddenly! You’re probably still a little weak from all the blood you lost.”

An unearthly chill swamped her skin at such menacing words with inference she couldn’t grasp. Her heart thumped violently against her chest. Her throat tightened with the threat to suffocate. “Where am I? Who are you? Who changed me out of my clothes?” she assaulted him with panicked questions.

“Taehyung did. He had to heal your wounds and your clothes were soaked with blood. I’m washing them right now.”

Although he was seemingly speaking to her in an incomprehensible language, his words somehow brought on an ambiguous, fleeting series of images of her mind, bursts of what she could only hardly make out to be violence and gore. Even so, they were just passing visuals that failed to illustrate a coherent recollection.

Plagued with confusion and terror, her limbs quaked and her head pulsed. She darted her gape around the room in search of means of escape. “Please just let me go,” a frail, fractured voice pried from her quivering lips.

Seokjin swallowed, lips tautening into an apologetic frown. “Listen, I know this all might seem crazy and scary, but try to stay calm so you don’t overexert yourself.” Gingerly, he attempted to extend the glass of water to her once more, “I can explain everything.”

Her breaths fell as tremoring wisps before she contemplated whether it was idiotic or in her best interest to believe in the sincerity the stranger projected. She peered down at her foreign attire, finding herself in basketball shorts and a Spongebob t-shirt – both of which were too generously sized for her. The harmless image of the apparent pair of men’s pajamas she was in seemed to suggest something far from a hostile kidnapping. Then briefly, her gaze shifted to the drink stretched out to her, recognizing that her pounding head was begging for it.

“It’s safe, I promise. I’ll show you,” he insisted, bringing it to lightly touch his lips before he took a gulp in hopes of evaporating any of her apprehensions of it being contaminated. “See?”

Wary hands reached out to accept it. Reluctance quickly turned to eagerness when she felt how good it was to soak her dry tongue and quench the dense throb in her temples.

She’s never had a hammering headache in this magnitude before. She’s also never ‘lost of a lot of blood’ before which, according to him, was why she was feeling the way she did. All over again, she was swathed by a haunting uneasiness.

Hence, in spite of his warm smile and seemingly benevolent efforts, when his hand extended out in offer of taking away her quickly emptied glass, she instead tossed it at him. In the distraction of having him fumble to catch it, she made a hasty lunge off the bed and a beeline for the bedroom door – the alternative of the bedroom window was unhelpfully high and would’ve instead made for a slow and clumsy escape. Veering around him and his wide blinking eyes, she threw open the door and sped out, her bewilderment readying her to weave through whatever she has to in order to make it outside and scream for help. Unfortunately, it was a swift transition from the bedroom’s doorway into a face-first collision with a broad chest of another unidentified figure. Dizziness returning in an amplified form, she stammered back.

“Jesus, take it easy,” a tongue clicked before big hands claimed her shoulders and held her upright.

She peered up to find familiar eyes – the same eyes from her dream. They didn’t have the same red quality, but the matchlessly penetrative glance they delivered couldn’t be mistaken. Was her mind so inundated that it had fabricated a dream of the man now standing in front of her trailing his lips down her side?

Taehyung, she recalled Seokjin’s mentioning earlier. The visual prompt of his familiar face suddenly made for an enrichment of her memories, triggering another barraging flash of bloody imagery. Nausea settled down on her and her sights started spinning again.

He caught her when her knees submitted to a buckle. “You’re not supposed to be up and about yet,” his criticism resonated with a deep voice. Arm swinging around under her knees, he picked her up. A quick nod at Seokjin reassured the older that he can handle it from here.

She would’ve struggled if she wasn’t entirely crippled by fatigue and anxiety. However, as he began carrying her down the hall, she was suddenly confronted with a strong sense of nostalgia. The humble and rustic walls looked as if she’s been acquainted. It wasn’t until he sat her down on a couch of a living room that she then taken back to an amicable elderly face eight years ago.

“This is the town shrine,” she mumbled to herself after the fragments of reminiscence assembled to refine a certain memory.

For as long as she could remember, the girl could see supernatural beings. In childhood, they had never bothered her more than a brush of curiosity. And so, as a kid she had even called the things her imaginary friends, being that apparently no one else was able to see them and she was consistently being dismissed as having a wild imagination. Approaching adolescence, she began to recognize the eeriness in their ghastly looks, becoming increasingly concerned that she wasn’t growing out of her ‘imaginary friends’. Her developing maturity allowed her to find the fear in seeing things others couldn’t.

As a result, at 12 years old her parents took her to a shrine seeking advice from a gentle-faced elderly monk. There was a brightness behind his crinkled eyes when he smiled, and a cosiness played in his voice whenever he talked. He assured her parents that it was nothing to worry about, that all her visions were the product of a creative mind. Nonetheless, he still imparted her with a bead bracelet, assuring that as long as she kept it on it would protect her. Her parents appreciated the monk’s white fib in an attempt to help her feel better. Although it didn’t dispel the monsters, she felt an attachment to the bracelet and kept it on till present day.

Now in the same shrine eight years later, she blinked at and fingered the same beads around her wrist. Their original dark brown colour was now tinted a deep red. Before she even had the chance to add to her amassing puzzlement, she stiffened as five other strange men joined them in the room.

“Oh, the Princess is awake!”

“I thought I heard voices.”

Seokjin followed, entering and setting down her folded clothes on the table in front of her. “I managed to get the stains out,” he greeted her by her name with a lively grin, “but I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything about the rips and tears.”

Her eyes broadened, terrified, when she held up her shirt with a monstrous bite taken out of its side. She gasped and jerked back in retreat when she at last remembered the earlier pain that had thoroughly conquered her body. All too vividly was the reminder of the demonic face of the child that clamped its teeth onto her ribs. All the overwhelming emotions from the entire day suddenly barraged her, provoking her to shake uncontrollably. Stinging tears welled up in her eyes.

“How do you know my name? Who are you guys?” she whimpered through a broken and frail voice, sinking into the couch to increase her distance from everyone.

__________

The day was eerie from the start.

The walk from her dorm room to campus was darker than usual. It wasn’t due to gloomy weather of any sorts – it was actually a sunny morning, perfectly characteristic of the budding summer season. The shadows were actually casted by the blankets of monsters that spread, hardly leaving any landscape vacant. Two-headed cats hung on trees, three-eyed foxes sprawled across garden beds, double-ended snakes spiralled around stair railings, crows two feet tall enveloped benches and stone sculptures. It was routine to see them often, so much so that it was often hardly a chore to walk on through as if she didn’t see anything, to pretend as if she wasn’t stiff with anxiety and fear. But today was different. Their presence has never been so ample. While none of them flocked to her, she could feel their hungry stares searing into the back of her head, as if stalking her as prey. A chill snaked up and down her spine.

“What are you staring at?” A classmate joined her side and reeled her out of her troubled daze. Their paths often overlapped, heading to the same lecture.

She had long ago given up on talking about the things that she could see. “Oh, nothing, just thinking about the lengths I’m willing to take to get out of that argumentation assignment due tonight. If I asked you nicely, would you hold a knife to my throat?”

The classmate snorted. “Christ, relax! It’s your birthday tomorrow! You get it done tonight and won’t have to worry about it when we celebrate.” Excited pats warmed the girl’s shoulder. “You think I’d let myself forget and let you off that easily?”

With such an uncanny start to her morning, even she forgot.

She tried not to act distracted and insincere when she thanked her peer.

While eager to find distance from the horde as she entered the school, she instead found dismay in her lecture. Windows lined the side of the class, and lining the windows were an abundant layer of more demons. The students carried on as if the room wasn’t dramatically dimmed by the obstruction of the copious densities of the monsters, as if they didn’t see the multitude of brutish, ghastly faces glowering at them – at her.

She sank into her seat. Not only the horror, but the loneliness has never felt as smothering as it did now.

What’s going on? Why was today as unusual as it was? She didn’t know, and will probably never know. It’s been this way of her whole life – no one around her could ever answer her questions about her experiences with anything other than a look of concern. Nonetheless, she swallowed the fear accumulating as a swell in her throat and reminded herself that she’d just have to carry on and hope that the strange themes will curb on its own by the end of the day.

So, once she finished her classes, she found refuge in a deep, quiet corner of the library away from the windows to finish her assignment due at midnight. Hours bled into the tedious clicking and typing of her laptop, and although mind-numbing, it adequately served as a distraction from the eeriness that lurked a just a few walls away. So much so that the anxiety of the supernatural gradually dispersed to instead make room for the fatigue of her studies.

The library was completely silent – it was now late and the occupants must’ve cleared out. She, however, just had a couple more paragraphs to refine before she could leave too. Eyes strained and dry, face stretched by frequent yawns, and mind dazed from the droning of the past few hours, she remembered submitting to the droop of her heavy eyelids.

Just for a minute, she promised herself, just to rest my eyes.

Regardless of what she insisted, the brief moment of ease and tranquility was mesmeric. So much so that when she finally did bring herself to stir and scarcely open her eyes, she found the time to be 11:42pm with no accomplishment of additional work from when allowed herself the break an hour ago. The panic surged through her, bolting her upright with consciousness and playing her fingers in a hurried and tireless employ.

It was 11:59pm when she clicked on “submit” and a green checkmark responded on her screen to inform her of a successful submission. She threw herself back in a slump with a sigh of relief. Stretching in her chair, she relished in the release of tension in her body to accompany her close-call victory.

Happy birthday to me, the girl quietly tittered to herself when the time on her laptop blinked midnight.

Packing herself up, she was drawn from the excited thoughts of being engulfed by her bed when she heard a childish sobbing coming from another corner of the library.

She froze, stiff and cold. What was a child doing on a college campus at midnight? The catalog of horror movies she’s watched could provide some ideas, none of which too kindly for her. Pulse thumping so rapidly that it seemingly burned a hole in her throat, she remained unmoving, waiting to see if the cries continued. Maybe she was so worn out that she was hearing things, she tried to rationalize. She remembered a psychology article she read, outlining something along the lines of the mind tending to fabricate false stimulations to the senses amidst a backdrop of paranoia, which was easy for her to develop in the dark and isolated environment she was in now. Although she might just be desperately reaching.

A rigid breath of distress pushed past her gritted teeth when she heard the whimpering continue. She wasn’t imagining it.

Prompted by the sliver of concern that it was actually a child in the need of help, pale and clammy fingers dug for her keys before wedged them between her knuckles as a makeshift tool of defence. Then, she cautiously made her way towards the sound. An attempt to console herself came with the reminder of her phone’s function of a blaring SOS alarm. She thumbed the power button in preparation to hold it down and trigger just that if necessary.

Up ahead, she saw a little boy sitting at a table with his back turned to her, whines and sniffles produced from the face that rested down on folded arms. The child’s shoulders quivered up and down as he sobbed. Gingerly closing their distance, she didn’t see any other company.

Someone’s visiting little brother? A staff member’s wandering son?

“Hey, are you alright? Are you lost?” she asked, employing a soothing and reassuring tone before reaching out a hand to tap his shoulder.

The kid spun around to reveal a demonic face – pale blue skin, eyes beady and red, teeth jutting and serrated, far from the anticipated face of innocence and vulnerability. Gasping, the girl would’ve lurched back if the thing didn’t latch onto her shoulder with its claws, breaking skin and drawing blood. She cried in pain, only wailing louder when his jaw widened and protruded to clamp down onto the left side of her ribs. An agonizing ache thundered throughout her entire body and forced her to her knees. It felt like the monster child had started lapping at the blood he drew from the wound he created. Then, it felt like his robust set of jaws was curtly removed from her side. With her senses blurring towards a deterioration from the sudden trauma that rendered her faint and close to unconsciousness, she was losing the ability to perceive reality as anything other than indistinctive and uncertain.

Her pale face dropped to the floor when she lost control of her movements over the immense pain. Under hooding eyelids, her hazy and departing vision managed to dimly distinguish a set of legs that straddled and knelt down on the demon’s chest. Vaguely, she watched as its thrashing and resistant body abruptly drop to a limp when a fist brutally landed on the creature’s face. Puncturing through its skull, a gaping hole was left when the hand retreated.

Everything dulled to a black.

A dream. A stir awake. A jolt upright in a bed she didn’t know, in a room that wasn’t hers, wearing clothes that didn’t fit her. The door opened and Seokjin entered with a glass of water.

__________

It was just past 3am, she learned. She had been unconscious for three hours.

A man named Namjoon was seated next to her on the couch, a wary distance away in consideration of her comfort amidst a disorientation. Next to him, Seokjin. Across from her on the other sofa, they introduced themselves as Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook, who was perched on top of the backing of the couch. Taehyung remained leaning against the frame of the living room’s doorway.

Her eyes were darkened with exhaustion and dewed with distraught. Hoseok had reached out to offer her a box of tissues. Soon, fibres of the damp and crumpled napkin in her hand produced a speckled and velvety texture on her fingertips.

Although still on edge, she’s decided to submit to cooperation. She couldn’t fight back anyway, burdened by not only the physical stress and wear, but also by its allied emotional strain when complete recollection of tonight’s dreadful events returned to her. Or at least for what she was conscious enough to record.

Moreover, this group of seven men might’ve been strangers, but they were strangers who promised answers to her confusion. For the first time in her life, she just might be able to finally understand… everything. Her fear of them had grown less aggressive – if they wanted to hurt her, they would’ve done so by now, as opposed to all keeping a sympathetic distance and projecting similar looks of concern from their eyes.

“When you visited the shrine as a child, the monk knew exactly why you could see things others couldn’t. But, you were still a kid, you weren’t ready to understand yet,” Namjoon spoke softly, prudently.

Jimin, foreseeing her overwhelming plunge into a reality different from what she’s known, moved mindfully not to further rouse disturbance within her when he departed and quickly returned with a hot cup of tea to soothe. She took the mug from him with a timid thanks, deciding to trust the gentle qualities reflected in his consolatory smile. It came as a reward, the hot sips calming the sharp strikes to her temples and dissipating the bloat in her airways.

“What wasn’t I ready to understand?” her voice came out feeble and splintered by a stubborn sniffle.

He replied, “You come from what our people consider a line of royalty.”

A loaded statement. A challenge to process. She only registered the first half of it. “’Our people’...?” she tentatively repeated.

“Demons,” Yoongi uttered the word she’s been waiting to hear, “the kind you’ve been seeing since you were young.”

An indecisive gaze trailed over their faces, unsuccessful in realizing any severe differentiations. No one had colourful skin, excess limbs or features, barbaric and unearthly characterizations, none of what she was used to seeing.

“But you all look human.”

Demons come in different forms, they explained. The stronger ones were able to suppress their demon traits and resemble humans, with the trade-off of being able to be seen by them. They’ve blended in, even walking among society, undetected and only perceptible to other demons.

It all sounded like an exert straight out of a supernatural young adult novel. It only escalated from there when she questioned the latter half that addressed her relation in all of this.

Every century, a human is born with the blood that can prolong a demon’s life if consumed after the ripening of adulthood. Devoured in its entirety, the celestial flesh and blood granted immortality. That celestial being was her.

The hammering in her head resurfaced. An apprehensive throb in her chest imitated the same pattern. Denial was the overpowering emotion in this instance, however. The girl scoffed a slight laughter of disbelief that accompanied the shake of her head. “That’s ridiculous. That can’t be. It… I can’t be…”

Except it would’ve explained why a mass of monsters stalked her yesterday morning. They were waiting. And right on time, at the stroke of midnight that marked her 20th birthday, the demons that mainly left her alone her whole life suddenly wanted to make a meal of her. Most of all, it would’ve explained why she was the only person she knew that could see the supernatural element.

Tautness abruptly overcame her once again when she made the connection that the seven men in front of her were also demons, possibly with the same intentions. Had they only brought her here just to surround her and have her all for themselves? The tips of her digits drained pale by the deathly anxious grip she had on her cup.

Jungkook realized the brewing fright and unease in her silence. With wide eyes, he threw his hands up in defence. “Woah, wait! Not us though! We don’t eat humans,” he exclaimed.

“Not all demons have desires for immortality and intend to hurt humans. But, we are here to protect you from those that do, Princess,” Jimin added, a trustworthy look glossing over his irises to complement his promising words.

She grimaced, “Don’t… call me that,” she muttered under her breath.

“Most of us have been under the monk’s care since we were young,” Seokjin explained. “He knew what would happen when you turned 20, and he wanted to protect you. We all grew up knowing that. When he passed away a couple years ago, the seven of us took over the shrine as well as the responsibility of making sure you’re safe.”

Her shoulders deflated at the solemn news, reminiscing the elder’s kind eyes that had comforted her many years ago. “So,” her wilted gaze reluctantly flickered up at them, “that demon earlier… it was you guys that stopped him?”

Hoseok nodded, “Taehyung did. If he had come any later, you would’ve…” he shivered at the thought of it.

She swallowed, disturbed as well by the recollection of the grisly red eyes and the agonizing pain that came with the sinking of its jagged teeth, how she was likely seconds away from being reduced to an indistinguishable pool of blood and guts. Her eyes stuttered in their peer up to Taehyung, who had remained quiet and still by the door the entire time. He was stoic and difficult to read, but she had been deprived of the resilience necessary to look at him for longer than a blink. This was because she was uneased by the idea that he had been the one to undress her from her red-stained and tattered clothing earlier. Whatever he did though, the claw and bite marks no longer marked her skin.

Stammering fingers traveled to graze her side, acknowledging the lack of an anticipated ache upon contact. “H-How did you…?”

Namjoon gestured to her wrist. The bracelet that the monk gave her, he also gave it to Taehyung. He was apparently faster and stronger than any of them. Wearing the beads simultaneously for a long interval formed a bond between the two of them. Taehyung was her familiar, was the term Namjoon used. It was a bond that meant Taehyung’s duty protect her overpowered his instincts as a demon. It was what provided him the ability to close her wounds and prevented him from personally gaining vitality from her flesh. They had scented the beads with his blood, Namjoon continued to explain, which will come as a warning to other demons. They shouldn’t be bothering her anymore for the most part.

Dwelling in such a prolonged stage of bewilderment was exhausting. Being awake in the middle of the night after just barely recovering from a penetrative pain that spilled her blood was exhausting. Wrestling between knowing to believe and wanting to deny such outlandish fables was exhausting. She sat still, quiet, numb, tired, fingering the bracelet around her wrist, now understanding why they produced their red tint.

“Someone’s going to tell her, right?” Yoongi blurted.

She looked up. What now?

Namjoon sighed, eyes dropping as if he was about to disappoint her. “Taehyung is…” he paused, clearing his throat and shuffling a nervous hand through the hair at the back of his head, “an incubus.” The air surrounding them seemingly tightened. “Which means—”

“I know what that means,” she deadpanned, stopping him before he had to embarrass himself— embarrass her any further, and before the red tips of her ears spread to blot more of her face.

A reminiscence of the elective mythology course she took during freshman year reminded her that incubuses gained life energy through sex. Incubuses were also supposed to be nothing more than a myth, but how could she be surprised when monsters and familiars and immortality-granting blood were a factual aspect in her reality?

No longer being able to stand emotionally smothering herself, she leapt to her feet.

__________

While finally in her own bed, in her own room, wearing her own clothes, she was restless. In spite of her relentless tiredness, she couldn’t sleep. Swaddled in an uncomfortable warmth prescribed by the summer heat and a fidgety apprehension, the ensuing sticky layer of sweat that draped over her skin made for a painstakingly long journey until the state of drowsiness.

She had politely asked to leave. She had thanked them for their care and for their explanations, but she was in dire need to be alone in her state of exhaustion and disorientation. They didn’t stop her, however Hoseok and Jimin insisted on walking her back to campus residence at this time of night. She declined and asserted her request to be unaccompanied. Again, they didn’t stop her, perhaps out of sympathy and condolence.

Alone at last, the girl was lost in her thoughts and it kept her up. While her eyes idly traced the uneven patterns of her ceiling, her mind tirelessly ran several trains atop numerous winding tracks that overlapped, each one trying to make sense of her situation, trying to assess how she was going to handle the disarming truth she had still so desperately sought for. Most rails ultimately ended in collision.

The sun was already beginning to rise, peeks of radiance generously filtered in through her opened blinds and made for an unaccommodating setting for sleep. A huff of frustration sat her up and trudged her towards her window to drop close the shades. Already a crack open, her fingers first wrapped on the underside of the window’s frame to open it further in hopes of it catching a heavier breeze. She had just started to lift the glass pane when a tall, dark silhouette came into view.

She gasped and recoiled backwards, her release of the window allowing it to fall. Her hand hadn’t retreated far enough yet, she realized when her finger got caught in the panel’s drop. Pain surged up the length of her arm when the frame slammed down on her index. Yelping, she dropped to her knees before wrenching her digit free, finding a bloody trench framing her nail.

She didn’t have more than a second to grimace at her injury when the complete opening of the window required her immediate attention. Clambering back, fear seized her lungs when the shadowy figure that was suspended on the tree branch immediate to her window had climbed in. Before a scream managed to pry her throat open, their closing distances allowed her vision to sharpen the facial features of the stranger.

“Jesus, you humans scare so goddamn easily,” Taehyung huffed, sitting on the sill with one leg hovering above her bedroom floor and the other swinging five storeys above ground.

Anger surfacing, she exclaimed through gritted teeth, “Were you there this entire time?”

“Yeah,” he replied, curt and without a shred of shame or penance. “I actually followed you the entire way home, but I guess humans are inattentive too.”

She would’ve clenched her hands into fists in resentment if she wasn’t met with an immediate aching jolt from her fingernail. “I told you not to,” she instead spat an irritated murmur, which promptly transitioned into a hiss of discomfort when she wiped the blood from her finger.

Her scent flooded his senses. “Yeah, well look how easily you hurt too. How your species has survived this long completely escapes me.” After a patronizing scoff, he leapt down from the window and slumped down onto the floor next to her, legs folded in front of him. He captured her wrist with the injured finger and brought it close to his face. She resisted, face contorting into a scowl, knees withdrawing to her chest, and hand tugging back in response. He reinforced his grip. “Just relax. I’m trying to help,” his tongue clicked with impatience.

The girl swallowed, eyes locking with his unwavering, assertive gaze. The echoing reminder that the supposed ‘familiar’ had healing abilities prompted her to retire her defences, although she was unsure of how it was exactly going to unfold.

Another sharp inhale dropped open her jaw, stunned when he plunged the tip of her finger into his mouth. “What the fuck are you do—” she began to shout before wrenching herself free from his lips, only to reveal undamaged skin that made her abruptly pause in disbelief. Rotating it in view, she confirmed that her finger was no longer bleeding, the nail was no longer cracked, and the likelihood of bruising was no longer promising.

Is this how he does it? She only briefly pondered. But just as quickly, her eyes dropped closed when disrupted by the recollection of her supposed dream of him running his lips down her shoulder, down her waist, before she had woken up suddenly unscathed.

This is how he does it.

And that wasn’t a dream.

Taehyung interrupted her silent stupor, “A ‘thank you’ will do—"

“Get out,” she lowly rasped. A series of troubled and shuddering winces debilitated her upon remembering the unintended mewls and whimpers he had drawn out of her in half-consciousness. “Get out!” her snarl escalated to a roar. She reached behind her before hurling a pillow toward him off her bed.

He jumped to his feet, his tensed lips sputtering a string of frustrated profanities and curses at her apparent unexplained outburst, especially after his kind deed. “Fine!” he barked. Spotting his basketball shorts and Spongebob tee slung on her computer chair, he snatched them up. “And I’m taking these back!”

The incubus leapt out her window and disappeared, which she firmly made sure of with her own eyes. The girl threw herself back flat on the ground, flustered, burying her face in her damp palms when she couldn’t strip herself of the lingering sensations of his tongue against her skin.

#bts smut #taehyung smut #armiesnet #kim taehyung #bts #bts scenarios #bts angst #taehyung scenarios #taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts supernatural au

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dearlazerbunny · 6 years ago

Text

Lie to Me (Ch. 25 of 27)

(Sorry I couldn’t count my chapterssss)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 2100

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug, who will get 20% royalties each on my first novel that I will never write

Requested Tags: @deraniel, @iamverity, @yasnooshka24, @wegingerangelica, @themusingsofmany , @dark-night-sky-99, @tarynkauai, @stuffandstuff-stuff, @angelicshinigami, @my-current-fandom-is, @geekysimmerthings, @lokis-butter-knife, @help-i-need-a-social-life, @vodka-and-some-sass

While being mortal is a fascinating experiment in the short term, Loki would not generally recommend it as a whole.

He feels much more vulnerable, in a way that has nothing to do with him sitting powerless in a cell. Now, his blood is much more easily spilled; his bones more easily broken. It is harder to dull the sudden aches that flare up for no apparent reason at all, and while magic soothes the troubleshooting somewhat, he can’t deny that there’s something.. missing. Nothing tangible or concisely identifiable, but incredibly distracting nonetheless.

His magic is another matter. Frigga has been visiting him for months, on and off, and each time he expects her to begin the process that will ultimately be much more damning to him than mortality. His magic is all he has sometimes, that and his sharp tongue. It is singularly his, and while they may bind his wrists and throw away the key, it will still thrum through his veins with a purr, content to be him and it and it and him.

He expected her to be hesitant, but never to defy Odin altogether. So when she comes to fetch him one day and undoes his manacles with a snap, and green sparks race to heal the raw skin on his wrists, he raises a wary eyebrow at her. “Correct me if I am mistaken, but I believe this is supposed to be gone?”

Frigga graces him with a rare smile that speaks of trouble- if he didn’t know better, he would say his habitual smirk was learned from hers. “You are not mistaken. But what mother would I be to rob my son of his pride and joy?” Her fingers brush an unruly lock of hair from Loki’s forehead. “But, your father will not be denied. At least, not so obviously. Do you trust me?”

“Infinitely.”

“Then stay still.” Her hand to the side of his face, she murmurs an enchantment that washes over his whole body like honey- viscous and stifling. Only her voice keeps him from panicking, and when she’s done, he takes a breath. Frigga hasn’t taken his magic, only… repressed it. It’s a bit like being in hiding. He can still feel his power, only now it remains curled up sluggishly in the deepest parts of his bones. “We both know that the magical arts are not Odin’s strength. This spell should hold for long enough.”

Loki flexes his fingers, his body awash in so many new sensations. “Long enough for what, precisely?”

As it turns out, long enough for the most casual jailbreak Loki has ever been apart of.

Frigga leads him where he never again thought he’d go- out. Up into the castle proper, where the air isn’t stale and the sunlight is filtering through the window. To his amazement, nobody turns their head as they walk side by side through the halls, then the gardens, and out the gates, eventually leaving not only the palace but the whole of Asgard behind, fading into the background.

Crossing the bridge is a strange sort of anxiety. The cracks underneath his feet have long since been mended, but spiderweb fractures remain embedded in his very bones. Old memories fade in and out of existence right in front of him, teasing his brain down paths he doesn’t want to follow- the past holds little more than anger and regret.

Caught up in his thoughts, Loki doesn’t notice when his mother stills. Thor has met them at the edge, and just beyond him Heimdall watches with a stony gaze. Confused, he glances around. “Mother?”

“It has come to Odin’s attention,” she says, “that your remaining on Asgard is a liability to its people.”

Loki arches an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

“And so, he has remedied his previous decree. You are to be banished to Midgard for the remainder of your time as a mortal, and without your magic.”

Time seems to slow. Too many fragile hopes are leaping over themselves for his attention, threatening to topple what little composure he has. “And Odin… agreed to this?”

“It took some doing,” she admits, lips pressed in a thin line. “Your brother and I have not been idle in the previous months.” Thor nods, arms crossed and eyes on the horizon for any unwelcome approachers.

“I-” for once, words fail. What can be said to those who have essentially given you a second chance at life?

Frigga smiles. She can hear what he’s not saying. Carefully, reverently, she presses her palm to his cheek, in a gesture only used by a mother who would do anything for her child. “As I said, my son,” she says softly. “You deserve all the happiness this life may afford you.”

Happiness. Such a foreign concept. Happiness is held in his Witling’s smile, her laugh, the way she looks at him as though she’s never seen a monster in his face-

I want you to come back. Please. If you can.

It turns out he’d lied to you after all.

“Thor will escort you.” A fond thumb is graced against his cheekbone, and then he’s released. “And I trust you will find Y/N and tell her all that you have yet to say.”

Loki wants to argue a million points- how they possibly could have managed to convince Odin to simply let him walk away; how she expects to keep his still-present magic a secret- but his curiosity is tempered by the sheer thought of you. You, in his arms; you, no longer separated from him by glass or pain or stubbornness-

The colors of the Bifrost have never looked brighter as they swirl around his fingertips.

XXX

He was not particularly expecting a warm welcome from SHIELD- perhaps some cushioned lining around newly-soldered handcuffs- but to his surprise, only the droll man with the eyepatch and Stark are there to greet him when Thor informs them of their arrival on Earth. Infuriating as Stark may be, after so long with nothing but his own company, his glare is almost a welcome change. “So. The prodigal sinner returns.”

“The pleasure is all mine Stark, I assure you.” Loki treats him to one of his smirks, though inwardly he’s already dreading the derision almost certainly headed his way.

“Gentleman, if we could all stand to be civil for more than seven seconds, this will all go a lot smoother.” Fury seems unruffled standing in front of his former most wanted. “Let me get one thing clear- I am not particularly happy about this. Organizations I’ve never even heard of are crawling out of the woodwork to tell me I’m crazy. But,” he sighs heavily, deep lines etched on his face, “as it turns out, we need you.”

Never one to mince words, the director. Loki raises a delicate eyebrow. “Need me for what, exactly?”

“We’ve acquired another magic user in your absence.” Stark snorts, apparently disagreeing with that description, and Fury silences him with a glare. “Well. Some sort of energy. She’s incredibly volatile, moody, and hates Stark with a passion.” There’s a minute shrug under his leather jacket. “Figured the two of you would get along well.”

“Joy,” Stark deadpans. “As if I don’t have enough people who want to blow my brains out. Now you’re going to teach her how to do it more effectively.”

“At least this way, if she murders you, she’ll be doing it on purpose and not by accident,” he replies smoothly, his attention never leaving Loki. “What do you say?”

Loki glances at his brother, and then suppresses an eye roll when Thor gives a classic I dunno, I’m just here to hit stuff gesture. “Well. I suppose I do not have much of a choice.”

“No, you don’t. Glad we could come to an agreement. Thor, if you’ll follow me. We need to make sure thee wont be any… repercussions, from Asgard.” Fury nods once, briefly, before taking his leave. “Welcome to the team.”

Loki’s eyes widen, just a bit. Stranger and stranger this day becomes.

Once they’re alone, the engineer turns back to his project, fiddling with wires exuding faint blue light. “So, where’s your guardian angel? I would have thought she’d be nipping at your heels.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your mini-me. Your not-so-secret-admirer. Your groupie. Your devotee-”

“I would stop there, Stark,” Loki growls.

“Can’t say I’m wrong.” Two wires come together with a spark. “So?”

“I am not sure.”

“Really? So you mean you weren’t the one who told her to rip us all a new one?”

Loki sighs. Mortals and their inane languages. “I assure you, as with most things that fall from your mouth, I haven’t the faintest idea what you speak of.”

“J, play back the recording.” Something warm floods his system at hearing your voice, clearer than its been in a year, even over a recording. Though you sound angry, even more livid than that day in his cell-

“Have none of you, not a single one, ever fucked up because you were hurting? Because it all just became too much?”

“She even made Captain Tightpants sit down, and let me tell you, that’s hard to do.”

This ‘Avengers Initiative’ is one big shot at forgiveness for all of you. Why doesn’t Loki deserve that same chance?”

“What prompted this?” Loki asks, bewildered.

“Oh, the day you left, we took her in because we thought you whammied her brain on that little rescue mission.”

“Loki’s never had a friend, not really. But I’m his friend. And I forgive him. And I gave him the second chance he deserves.”

Oh, love. “I hope you do not expect me to apologize for her.”

“Right.” Stark points a bit of machinery at him without looking in his direction. “Also, if you even think for a second you’re living in my tower-”

“I would not live in that monstrosity if it were shelter from a sandstorm, Stark, fear not.”

I’m here, love. I’m coming. I swear.

A/N: The new Addams family movie is awesome so here’s a celebration chapter. Also only TWO MORE CHAPTERS TO GO PEOPLE well one chapter and an epilogue but whatever technicalities

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nastybuckybarnes · 6 years ago

Text

Wicked Games - Five

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Soulmate AU

Summary: Everyone in the world has a soulmate. And until they meet that soulmate, everyone in the world stops aging at 25. Wrongfully accused of a horrendous crime and on the run, you happen to bump into the man who’s been avoiding you for the past seventy-five years.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Fluff,

Word Count: 1.6K

A/n: I’ve got a headache and the urge to start two new series. hmmmmmm

MASTERLIST 1 2 3 4 Series Masterlist

~*~

It’s two weeks later when Bucky finds himself sneaking into Alexander Pierce’s office, determined to find anything he can about Rumlow or you.

His gloved hands work swiftly and carefully as he searches through filing cabinets and desk drawers for anything that could help him with your case.

Why does he care so much, he’s not sure, but he knows you’re innocent and shouldn’t be treated like a criminal, the way Rumlow should be treated.

His fingers brush over the cover of a file labelled ‘Project S’ when the doorknob twists and a male voice carries through. He dives under the desk, praying that Pierce isn’t here to stay.

“I told you,” the older main snarls, “find (Y/l/n). Confiscate her notebook, bring me her studies. We’re so close to perfection.” Bucky furrows his brows, curious as to what could be in your notebook that Pierce would want so much.

“I don’t care! I want her and her notebook! She’s the key to finishing Project S. If we let her get away he’ll find her and all our hard work programming him to be our best soldier will go to waste!” Bucky flinches as a hand gets slammed down on the top of the desk.

“She knows we want her research. She knows that her work is important to our Project. Rumlow was too fucking stupid and made her aware. Now she’ll go to great lengths to destroy or hide it all. We cannot have that happen! She’s the only person on the planet who has the slightest idea of how to destroy a soul bond. We need that knowledge.”

Bucky’s jaw drops as he realizes that you’re definitely innocent.

“Her killing RUmlow was probably a good thing. Now we have reason to search her and her stuff, find out what she knows and what she can do. If she refuses to work with us, we’ll use him against her. He doesn’t know they’re soulmates… no… that doesn’t matter! Find her, bring her to me. And make sure the captain and his team are unaware of what we plan to do with her.”

The person on the other line talks for a few moments before ending the conversation.

Bucky can do nothing but hold his breath as Alexander Pierce leaves his office, slamming the door behind himself.

He stays hidden for a few more minutes before getting up and grabbing the Project S file, along with a file on you.

He dashes out of the office and towards his own, tucking the files in his jacket to read later.

The door to the house opens and you crouch down behind the kitchen counter, eyes focused on the floor where a pair of black shoes are walking in.

“(Y/n)?” You straighten up slowly upon hearing Bucky’s voice.

“James.” He nods at you then takes a deep breath.

“I’m gonna be outside in the back, burning some boxes and stuff.” You nod, watching as he walks out of the house without giving you a second glance. Something tugs at your heart and you sigh, shaking your head.

You head upstairs and take a shower, wanting to clear your head of the intrusive thoughts consisting mainly of James and you and you and James. Sometimes naked, sometimes clothed.

It takes nearly half an hour before you’re ready to face him, to face the truth of what happened.

You bring a mug of tea outside with you and sit on the grass beside him, curling your knees up to your chest.

“I studied soulmates. Found a way to locate the gene that produces the anti-ageing and the gene that matches in both soulmates,” you begin softly, not lifting your eyes from the mug in your hands.

“I found ways to enhance the bond and ways to destroy it. Of course, I never tested the second one. Brock came to me one day after work with so many questions. How soulmates work, how you’d know when you had yours. I told him that few people can test the genetics in the way that I’ve learned how to, and few people would truly be able to understand how to determine what a soul bond gene looks like. So I simply said that he’ll have to wait and see if it’s her.”

He looks over at you when you stop speaking, waiting for you to continue.

“When you’ve been alive for many years without your soulmate, you’ll notice the ageing slowly when you find them. A grey hair here, some wrinkles there. And then when they start catching up to your age, you’ll both age together. I never… imagined that he’d want this information for anything other than curiosity.

“I’d found him reading my journals and notebooks on many occasions but I brushed it off. Until one morning I overheard a phone call. It was between him and Alexander Pierce. They were talking about destroying the soul bond of their officers, they figured it would make them more ruthless and follow orders better. I acted like I knew nothing, I didn’t know what to do.”

You take a sip of your tea and close your eyes. “This was months ago. And around this time he started getting more violent with me. He’d take what he wanted from my body and leave me hurting and broken after. I couldn’t stand it. So I decided to test a theory. I took some of his hair out of a brush and tested his DNA. Sure enough, he and I aren’t soulmates.”

Bucky shifts closer to you, encouraging you to continue. “I didn’t tell him, too afraid to aggravate him further. But one day he found out that I knew. I don’t know how, but he found out. And he was livid. He beat me until I couldn’t walk.”

You take a few deep breaths, not wanting to continue but knowing you have to.

“Then he started to get me to test the DNA of men from his work. To pinpoint their bond genes and figure out how to destroy them. I’d always fail at that second part. And I guess one morning he snapped.”

“What happened?” He asks gruffly, eyes full of sadness for you.

“He came at me with a knife while I was asleep, stabbed me right here.” You lift your shirt and run your fingers over the wound in your side. “I managed to get the knife and I stabbed him in the thigh. It only pissed him off. He grabbed a pillow and tried to suffocate me.” You shudder, tears streaming down your cheeks as you remember vividly what it felt like.

“When the pillow didn’t work he tried choking me, but I landed another stab to his chest. He fell off of me and I ran out of the room as fast as I could. I grabbed the first thing I saw which happened to be an expensive vase that I’m regretting throwing, but I threw it at him. He grabbed a piece of the vase and stabbed me here and here with it.” You show him the spots, one on your bicep and the other on your forearm.

“I barely grabbed it before he tried again. I stabbed him with it, right where I figured the femoral was. He fell to the ground and I called the cops. Then he said ‘they won’t believe you. Pierce will have you killed before you can even think to run’. I didn’t know what to do. The receptionist picked up and as I was about to ask for help, he stabbed me right here.”

You turn around and pull your shirt down your shoulder, showing the gruesome-looking gouge that’s been poorly stitched by you.

“He hung up the phone and when I hit the ground he just kept kicking me. He wouldn’t stop. I pulled the knife out of my shoulder and stabbed him in the knee then twice in the chest, thus killing him.”

It’s silent between the two of you for a few minutes as Bucky processes everything you’ve just told him.

“I’m a murderer. A murderer who has information that Alexander Pierce wants. I told you this because I trust you. Not because I’m expecting you to run out and sacrifice yourself for my safety. I wanted you to know. You deserve one explanation.”

He sits stunned while you take small sips of your tea, your fingers trembling against the warm mug.

Eventually, he manages to speak. “Your studies are pretty sought after, it seems.” You nod your agreement and close your eyes for a moment, trying to calm down your racing heart.

“I uh… thank you for telling me. You didn’t deserve any of that. I wish it didn’t happen to you. You’re sweet and kind and gentle and you really really don’t deserve this shit show that’s become your life.”

You look over at him, curious to his change in demeanour.

“Thank you, James.” “Bucky,” He corrects, looking over at you with fiery blue eyes filled with passion. “Call me Bucky.” You nod and test the name, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Well, Bucky, I think I’m gonna head in for the night. Thank you for listening to me and for trusting me and helping me.” He grabs your hand as you go to leave.

“Stay, please.” You nod after a moment and sit back down, your shoulder brushing his.

The two of you stay there, watching the fire for hours together, unspoken words being shared in the silence bewteen the two of you.

That night, your relationship with James Barnes changes.

He’s no longer the officer giving you sanctuary. No, now he’s the man who held your hand and comforted you after reliving those awful memories. He’s now the man who you find yourself falling head over heels for, against your better judgement.

And he wishes he could say he wasn’t feeling the same way about you.

~*~

TAGS:

PERMANENT TAGS: @smolbeanbucky @wildefire @inumorph @impalatobakerstreet @nanna022 @mummy-woves-you @m-a-t-91 @wtfholland @bookgirlunicorn @beautifulwisdom2001 @deep-sea-glitter @mrhiddles-81 @iamwarrenspeace @bitchacho25 @escapetheshackles @i-know-i-can @buckyssoul @avnngrs @swoonhui @destiel-artemis @frozenhuntress67 @unlikelygalaxygiver @agentlokidottir

MARVEL:

@fallenangelfangirl @look-to-the-stars-and-wish @maladaptive-ninja-returns @cliffordasparagus @april-14-blog @potteritis @momc95 @shakzer00 @inkedaztec @cal-ifornication @heartislubbingdubbing @my-suga-kookies

BUCKY:

@chuuulip @nerd-without-a-cause @natashasnight @dragonrosegardens @saharzek

WICKED GAMES:

@lilypalmer1987 @bisexualfangirlsblog @i-am-always-famished @clarysthing @starkxpotts @e-wolf-98 @i-run-on-green-tea @nerd-without-a-cause @jamesbuckybarnes13 @theonelittleone @bradfordsgreekgod @littledeadrottinghood @ashlebetty @izhetbean @mu-mu-rs @bruisedfaye @bisoueffleurer @itsphinee @spnsquirrel @my-suga-kookies @casuallydarktiger @broke-into-pieces-by-myself @iris-suoh @j-a-val

#bucky x reader #soulmate au #bucky x reader soulmate au #bucky x reader soulmate #soulmates #otp #cop!bucky #criminal!reader #cop!bucky x reader #cop!bucky x criminal!reader #cop bucky x reader #cop!bucky x Criminal!Reader soulmate au

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kurtty-drabbles · 5 years ago

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Lara Croft AU (part 5)

N/A: I´m writing this and is pretty early here. Uhm, let´s see what I can do here.

@dannybagpipesarecalling @djinmer4 @bamfoftheundead @muninandhugin

The morning light hit the window announcing the dawn of a new day and Kurt Wagner´s eyes are open and staring at the window- is possible to hear people shouting or merely talking loud in Saphyr and their language seems more musical and whimsical than has any right to be- his head moves to the other side to see Kitty´s head lay on the pillow as her breathing is softly and is a soothing image. "well, it wasn´t such bad night" his tone is light and Kurt slowly rise from his bed, yet, his movements are enough to stir the bed enough to cause Kitty to wake up.

"Hey" she speaks with a sleepy voice and slowly sits on her bed. "Did you sleep well, Miss Germany?" Kitty rubs her eyes and cracks a joke. "Not your usual bedfellow"

"What do you mean?" Kurt tries to ask but Kitty shakes her head and jumps out and claims the bathroom- Kurt let her go first as she´s a lady and gingerly touches the spot she was sleeping- "Still angry with the hotel?"

"Oh, you have no idea"

__________________________________________________________________________________ Doug and Logan sleep well if only by miles of the distance of each other, and both engaged in small talk. "So, you and Kitty aren´t a thing?" and Doug makes a gross face.

"Dude, she´s practically my sister...what you´ll tell me Kurt ever dated his sister?"

"Uhm, no. But a woman tries to pose as his sister and bed him...he said no...shouldn´t have told this, Doug ignore I ever said that!"

"Fine, no problem!"

A minute of silence and Doug asks. "You think they are..." no need to describes any further as Logan cough at this insinuation. "Kurt better not tell me...he´s a gentleman and I don´t want to know"

"Kitty is no lady, so, she´ll tell"

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Kitty is not one to be called "difficult" at the least in terms of customer service she´s rather chill, however, she has her limits and last night the receptionist broke all of them. The manager-no longer the pretty red hair but rather, a bald man wearing a simple suit-is trying to placate her worries and is failing so far- "Miss Pryde, we don´t have any receptionist named Venus and all the other rooms are booked for the week"

Kitty´s face is displeased and is hilarious how her short temper matches Logan. Kurt can admire later, right now, he must make sure Kitty won´t go berserk.

"So, a total strange waltz in and book me and Kitty together?" Kurt asked dubiously as stories of shady hotels and some cheap tactics to earn more money. His golden eyes have a meaningful effect on the poor manager who can only gulp and look away.

"We have a legend here, don´t let the door open or else Venus will enter and do whatever she wants" the man offers this as an explanation.

"Great, next time I´ll ask for Jack Frost to book my room" Kitty replied hotly. The man looks at her curious. "You´re in Saphyr and you never thought you would be pranked by her Herald?"

"Nor do I ever thought I would have to share my room, no, I didn´t"

"Well, we can´t do anything ...and if you want to give us a bad review is more than fair, but, you two got pranked and we won´t meddle with this affair" the word affair has a peculiar effect on Kitty who looks at everyone and everything but Kurt.

"We can always leave this hotel" Kurt pipes in with an icy tone. Doug and Logan are still too sleepy to react or maybe they´re enjoying the commotion.

"And you think there´s any open vacancy now?" the man replied and Kurt is not pleased neither is Kitty while Logan and Doug aren´t minded in the slightest the show- the other employee and guests are pretending to not paying attention to the commotion- and Kurt has to hold Kitty or else things would go south.

"Well, consider your hotel getting a bad review" Kurt states and his tail wrapped at the mouth of Kitty- the woman is wanting to say nasty words and her eyes look at the entirety of the people in the lounge gazing at them curious- "Bad service and bad story"

His tail is free of her moth and Kitty throws a nasty eye to the manager.

We´re here to do a mission...

Advanced civilization my ass

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Logan has many contacts and one of them knows how to travel the jungle under the policy´s eyes-the real temple is a secret and one that will remain like that so far- and is a bit of surprise to see who this Logan´s friend is. "Dr. Moira?" Doug and Kitty asked together.

"Stop gawking at me, you two are making me feel old" she jokes and amused and looks around in her bar- the bar is clean and far from the image of a seedy bar, yet, is here where they will break many rules- "Bar is closed for today, Logan...if you want beer...it will be the double"

"Damn!"

"How we´ll travel the jungle?" Kurt asked and Kitty is waiting for the answer and even adds some inquiries. "We can´t travel to boat all the way in, at some point we´ll have to walk in the land..but, what we´ll encounter there is what worry me"

Dr. Moira arch an eyebrow. "You too believe in Zaorva?" and Kitty rolls her eyes at that. "No, I don´t believe in silly legends...but, I heard they have venomous snakes ...the type that inspired those monster movies"

Kurt´s eyes widen at that. "I hate snakes" and Kitty shot a sympathetic look. "Me too, elf, me too"

"Well, lucky for us...snakes won´t be a problem...what will be a problem is what you think is a legend...Zaorva has many children and some of them aren´t picky eaters" Dr. Moira explains as much she can, but, Doug and Kitty aren´t on the same page with the good doctor.

Doug feels sorry for her.

She lost her license as Dr thanks to Genosha and political conflict and now...she´s here speaking about monsters and Zaorva.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Amanda Szardos is a seductive woman and she knows where to found the weak link- a trick her mother taught her and she did pay attention closely- and once she finished her moment of passion with Dr. Rory- a brilliant scientist helping the country with a secret project- the man was so enamored by her looks and, well, for their moment of passion that his lips got loose.

"So, a fake temple...that´s clever and a bit of waste of money too. I mean, can you imagine how must cost to keep up with this rouse?" Amanda asked feigning innocence.

Dr. Rory shurgs off still naked in his bed staring at Amanda´s naked body. "Maybe, but is worth to protect the original temple...there´s something unnatural going there if even the Foundation agrees in to let this fake temple continue ...then is better no one to see the original temple"

"I like magical things"

"We had a magical night..."

"That you did, Dr. Rory"

Now, Amanda only needs to smile coyly at him and narrate a nice lie and the man will guide her to the original temple. Her smile falls and she puts a hand on her temple. "Dr. Rory...I need your help" and the man is too in love to say no.

I´ve my powers cut short but after this...Mordo will have to double my powers...

#Lara Croft au #Kitty Pryde #Kurt Wagner #they never hate each other at least Kitty never hate him #Logan and Doug are shipping in their own way #Dr Moira knows too much #always anti amanda #Dr Rory consent here

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brandingexpert · 5 years ago

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galaxy--supernova · 5 years ago

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Conspiracy time

aespa’s concept terrifies me and here’s why.

disclaimer: i’m not saying don’t support the group or the girls or SM artists

SM hasn’t elaborated much on what aespa having digital avatars means for the group in terms of activities/promotion, but here’s how I see it. In a post-pandemic world, this concept of “avatars” assures that content can almost always be produced. All the real life girls have to do is provide their voices, the avatars can do virtual meet and greets and music videos and Hatsune Miku style concerts. We’re entering a VR world so it ups the creep factor by like a billion. You can potentially project the avatar into your house. It also increases the likelihood of saesangs living in their own world.

But speaking of a “VR world,” SM has been wanting to do an "everywhere" group for ages, right? That's what EXO was, K and M, twin groups promoting at the same time in Korea and China. We see how that worked out. So then they made NCT, which is basically AKB48 okay let's not play games, they got 23 members right now and keep adding more, they got subgroups promoting everywhere. If one member leaves, hey no big deal we've got more. EXO didn't have enough members, so when 3 left it was like, done. They gave each member a specific super power, you can't just say "Kris left? Eh put another one in," you gave them too much lore.

But aespa can literally be anywhere if they're digital. You get the real people because k-pop fans still wanna have a flesh and blood singer, plenty of people don't understand Hatsune Miku, after all. But I bet you anything SM "neo culture technology" is working on a purely VR group. THEY don't need contracts, THEY don't age out of anything. Imagine, for a minute, a K-Pop group who can perform anywhere, any time, without the need for make up artists, managers, expensive clothing, or even travel time. They can speak any language, they don’t get sick, they don’t have mental health issues.

Maybe I’m getting too far ahead. But having been a fan of SM groups for ten years...it would not surprise me at all if this was their end goal. And a virtual group is not necessarily a bad thing. The bad part is how it would affect flesh and blood singers in a group like SM. Because like with robots doing work in place of humans, the atmosphere becomes “do what we say and don’t complain because we can always replace you.”

#HOWDY HO I AM DRINKING THE CONSPIRACY JUICE TODAY

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cascucute · 6 years ago

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hannibal barca fan servant concept

Basic information

Name: Hannibal barca

Servant class: rider/avenger

Gender:male

Height: 210cm

Weight: 127kg

Source: the Punic wars

Country of origins: Carthage

Alignment: lawful evil

parameters

STR: B END: A-

AGL: C MP: B-~A

LUK: D NP: B-~A+

Background

the great Carthaginian general from the 2nd Punic war of 218BC that rampaged across Rome for 15 years after crossing the alps

he came close to wiping Rome off the face of history when his brother hasdrubal came to Italy but unfortunately his brother was swiftly killed and Hannibal had to flee back to Carthage

how different would our world be if he succeeded his war against Rome?

Personality

Hannibal may be an intimidating figure on the surface and certainly deserves such a reputation but if a master tried to understand him they will see that he is a calm and polite fellow whose even able to crack a few jokes here and there. he doesn't let himself indulge much in modern society because of how much of it was influenced by Rome

his vengeance towards Rome isn't so much from wrath as it is from his grief, he is a man who lost his father, his brother, and his entire homeland to the Romans, he is a man with nothing left save for a legacy of vengeance he lost, he is well aware of the fact his homeland of Carthage is no less than a stepping stone for Rome in history,

his wish for the grail is a predictable one, that his brother's army wasn't slain and that he and him can destroy Rome together. he is a grieving man with not much to his name

but may whatever higher entity help you if you are roman

Class skills

riding A: is able to ride any mount even modern day ones, although when it comes to riding beasts he'd rather ride an elephant than a horse

magic resistance C: the minimal amount of magic resistance bestowed to the rider class, normally is immune to spells that requires two verses or less

independent action A: allows Hannibal to not rely too much on his master for mana and allows him to exist for a period of time of around two weeks or even half a year in his avenger form if his master is slain

personal skills

bane of Rome A+: makes him and his elephants stronger if they are fighting an enemy from Rome or Italy and makes them resistant to physical attacks from them as well as renders them completely immune to spells and curses from Italians even if the spell is too strong for his magic resistance

mana burst (flame) B: based on his rampage in Rome where he burnt the countryside, when his wrath against Rome grows stronger the more ferocious the flames themselves become

tactics A: was known for his victories against the Romans during his rampage and even influence several tactics to this day

Charisma B: managed to convince many Gauls, even those more loyal to Rome to join him on his rampage against Rome

Crossing of the Alps EX: a manifestation of his famous feat of the once thought impossible task of crossing the alps during winter, it makes it so that no matter the impossibility of the path to the destination, Hannibal will always reach the location he desires, even breaking into a reality marble, he may not be able to win the fight but he will always be able to get there

Noble Phantasms

Army of terrifying elephants: Surus Stratos

Rank:B

Range: 2 km

Type: anti army

Hannibal is able to summon the 37 elephant he brought to Rome after crossing the alps, they are strengthened by Hannibal own mana as a servant so they have strength equivalent of a lower class servant, they emit an aura of terror that affects anyone who isn't direct allies with Hannibal that warps the perception of those who view them, among the 37 elephant there is the strongest, surus the last elephant to survive, in a holy grail war surus cannot die as long as the other elephant exists, if possible Hannibal can convert already existing elephants into one of his own, however it is only possible if at least one of them has been slain

Never a friend of Rome: oath to Hamilcar

Rank: A+

Range: n/a~ 50 m

Type: anti roman

the manifestation of his oath of vengeance against Rome he made to his father Hamilcar, he only ever uses it in rare cases

to activate it he must project the pyre he made his oath to, and cut his hand with his blade so that his blood may fall into the fire while reiterating the oath he made "my father Hamilcar on this day I pledge an oath to never be a friend of Rome" after the ritual is complete his class changes from rider to avenger. if any servants and/or masters from Rome or Italy are participating in the same holy grail war Hannibal will make it a case to target them

after becoming an avenger he gains an increase in mana and this noble phantasm becomes a passive always on affect

the oath at its weakest manifests as just an enhanced version of his bane of Rome skill however Hannibal can further increase the oath's power, whether it be just silencing anyone who speaks a language of Latin roots or setting ablaze anything with roman blood or influence in his presence

#fate #fate grand order #fan servant #hannibal #hannibal barca

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kate-sinclaire · 6 years ago

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thief (m raleigh x mc)

Part One // bad reputation (raleigh x mc)

Book:  Platinum Pairing:  (m raleigh x mc) (Ella Andrews) Rating:  PG-17; sexual themes and language Word Count: 2,273

TAGS: @zodiacsign1 @owleyes374 @lovedrakewalker @averysheart-raleighsdick @cordoniasmost

NOTE: All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios (minus, for the most part, Ella Andrews), I’m just borrowing them. I also do not own the image. Image found on weheartit.

Summary: This takes place in Chapter Seven of Platinum where MC and Raleigh attend the charity gala, and then sneak off to an abandoned building (which later turns out to be Raleigh’s).

DISCLAIMER: Some of what happens in this story is not the same as what happens in the Choices version (example: in this adaptation, what Ella wears is different than what she wears in Choices). This is just a creative adaptation rather than a direct copy. ALSO: I know that they escaped on a motorcycle to the abandoned building, but since Raleigh was drunk in this chapter, it was a no go.

A gala. A fucking gala. How had he been convinced to attend a GALA? He pursed his lips and swept his hair back, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He leaned over the sink, his strong biceps holding up his weight against the porcelain. His dark eyes stared back at him, as though awaiting his decision to speak.

"You are Raleigh Carrera," he nearly growled. "You are God's greatest punishment to women, you are every woman's biggest regret, you hate commitment, and you do not have feelings for Ella Andrews." Even he didn't buy it. Shit.

He took another swig of whiskey from his flask. Was he really going to show up drunk to this thing? Abso-fucking-lutely. Right on brand.

Ella stood outside the building, posing for pictures and offering autographs to anyone who wanted them. She had nothing better to do as she waited for her very late fake boyfriend, and the summer air was nice and warm against her skin. Letting out a shaky sigh, she gave another smile, blew another kiss, and made her way to the entrance one slow step at a time.

"Ella, how's songwriting going?" "Are you writing any songs about Raleigh?" "Ella, what was your inspiration for the gown?" "Ella, what made you choose to sponsor a wildlife conservation charity?"

I should at least answer this one, she thought, standing a little straighter. "Wildlife conservation has always been important to me. No one seems to focus enough on preserving our world or the life that lives in it. Animals go extinct every day from poaching, several tons of plastic are dumped into our oceans, destroying the life that lives in them. Coral reefs are dying and, in the meantime, we're just letting it happen. There needs to be more awareness on the matter, and so when I happened upon the charity, giving back to it was a no-brainer."

"Can I quote you on that?" Ella nodded briefly, gave one last smile, and decided to head toward the entrance. Just as she made it past the foyer, she ran headfirst into her "lover's" arms. Something about their last day together had diminished her feelings; not by much, though, and especially not when looking at Raleigh's muscular physique in a tuxedo. Her eyes met his, and she cocked her head as she noticed the tint of red in them, and the rose color to his cheeks to match.

"Nice of you to join," she commented wryly, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips. How did something so innocent send waves of electricity shuddering through her body? He seemed to drink in her presence, his eyes trailing down her collarbone to her heels, and back up again. There was something else hidden in those deep brown irises; heat, maybe?

"Sorry, I was occupied," he slurred finally, offering her his arm. "Shall we?" They walked in through the foyer and to the gourmet food stands nestled in the back. Ella filled up a plate of rolls, honey baked ham, and chicken. At the end of the line, she grabbed a heaping cup of coffee along with a glass of water and tugged Raleigh along to find their assigned seats. It was a good thing waitressing had given her such a talent. "God, can you really eat that much?"

She shot him a look and pushed the food over to him, along with the giant mug and large glass. "This is for you. Something tells me you need to sober up."

"Pshh, I'm not-I'm not drunk," he stammered, ending the sentence with a hiccup. He chuckled and not-so-politely shoved the bread into his mouth.

"Ms. Andrews, how lovely to see you!" Ella turned to a smaller, older man in a dark blue suit. She stood and held out her hand, keeping up her poised and etiquette performance. "Pardon me, I'm John Tellar, one of the creators of the project." She did everything to avoid her wince as she felt Raleigh clumsily rise behind her. "Ah, and Mr. Carrera, it is an absolute privilege that you would grace us with your presence."

"That sounds likely," he agreed.

"What he means," she replied, grabbing onto his hand and giving him a warning squeeze. "Is that it is such an honor to have been invited to an event like this. Wildlife conservation is an issue so close to my heart."

"Ah, yes," he replied. "Conservation is a great thing. Anyhow, I believe I see someone waving me over. So lovely to meet you both." He dismissed himself with a grin and made his way through the crowd.

"What the hell was that Carrera?" she asked, spinning on her heel. As she did so, she instantly regretted it, seeing as though there was hardly an inch between them. His cologne seemed to cloud her senses, faltering her angry expression.

"Ella," his voice was calm and patient. "Where do you think they received the money for this event?" She looked around her; down at the marble floors, up at the gold accents, around at the gorgeous tables, also accented with marble and gold. Her eyes widened, realization dawning on her for the first time.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "How much of the proceeds even go to wildlife conservation?"

"Less than 10%," he replied, his voice growing angry once again. "Remember that scandal that came out about me a few months ago? About how I don't support charities or some shit like that? This is why." She swallowed hard. How had she been so stupid? Before she could react, Raleigh began to make his way to the stage, determined. While her nerves remained, she decided that she wasn't going to stop him.

"Hey," his voice boomed into the microphone. Everyone stopped, turning their attention to the slightly swaying Raleigh Carrera. "You all are frauds, you know that? You want to know why I don't contribute to your shitty charities?" Oh, God. "Because you don't fucking care. And...you. You tried to turn my girlfriend into a fraud. But you know what? She does care. She does give a fuck." The way he said girlfriend without hesitation nearly brought Ella's jaw to a drop. But he had had so many fake relationships, he was used to them. Right? Her cheeks flushed as the audience turned to look at her.

"She's too good for you," he said. "She's too good for all of us." He stepped down and stormed out the exit. Ella followed, her thoughts racing. What the hell did that mean? Did he just reveal some trace of his feelings connected for her? She bit down on her cheek and stopped just short of him when she found him leaning up against a tree, his eyes staring at the sunset. Nothing was said for a while until he let in a deep breath. "Ella-I...I'm sorry if I embarrassed you up there."

Instead of saying anything, she walked over and wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes flickering to his lips. He pulled her in hard and kissed her, his tongue exploring her mouth and then pausing to kiss down her neck and to her chest. She let out a small moan and pulled back, pressing her forehead to his.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

"Oh no, this is where you kill me, right?" she laughed as they pulled up to an abandoned building. Everything about it said, "Will fall on top of you and crush your dreams; figuratively and literally." Raleigh grinned and nodded at the limo driver, prompting his leave.

"Nah, I don't plan on killing you. You're my fake girlfriend, after all," he winked. There was that word again. Fake. She tried to hide her disappointment with a small smile. Clearly, it had worked because he walked straight on past her and to the door. The knob refused to move as he attempted to turn it. “Shit.”

Ella stood beside him and fumbled with her hair as she glanced up at the now dusty grey sky. She nudged him and slid a bobby pin in his hand. He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re going to help me break in?” She shrugged.

“Why not? Worst case I’ll just cut my hair short and date a goodie-two-shoes celebrity to boost my image,” she smirked, her thoughts relaying to their first conversation.

“You certainly live up to your reputation as a jerk,” Ella had smiled coyly, tugging her guitar at her side, as though shielding her from this alternate world set before her.

Raleigh flashed that million-dollar smile of his and hooked his thumbs into his back pockets. “So you do know who I am.”

Ella shrugged. “I’ve heard your songs and seen the tabloids. The lightbulb went off after I put your face to the name.” He eyed her curiously and flicked his tongue across his bottom lip. “You’re kind of notorious, Raleigh Carrera.”

“Notorious,” he repeated slowly.

“I’m used to your hair being longer, though.”

He chuckled, “My crisis PR team made me get it cut. Going for a more...responsible image. Do you like it?”

Ella paused before answering. She liked it. She liked it too much. “Pretty sad that you have a PR crisis management team, Carrera.”

She shook herself from the memory and watched as he meticulously unlocked the door with a few turns of the pin. “Got it in one.” Raleigh held out his hand to Ella, and she took it as they rushed up the broken steps and out onto the flat roof. The view stopped her in her tracks.

City lights spanned on for miles, twinkling romantically and winking at all who watched. Cars buzzed by in the distance and the honking of angry cabs echoed out in front of them. Raleigh paused and pulled out a bottle of liquor and two glasses before taking a seat on the roof’s edge. He looked back at her and patted the spot beside him.

“This place is yours, isn’t it?” Ella asked with a smirk, taking the glass in front of her and pounding it down. She winced as it burned down her throat.

“Guilty,” he grinned. She gazed out and sighed blissfully. “I used to come here a lot. You know, for nostalgia purposes, after they plucked me from Peurto Rico to join Sunset Skatepark. Things were...crazy in New York.” He took a swig from the bottle and grimaced. “This was where I’d escape.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortably. “I uh...” he paused. “I don’t take anyone up here.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“No,” he said, his voice suddenly sober. “No, I uh. I don’t.” She looked at him, her heart suddenly racing. The winking lights reflected beautifully in Raleigh’s eyes as he stared at her with...longing? “You make me want to tell you things.” Heat flared as he closed the distance between them, holding her carefully against his side. The kisses were tender, yet passionate and desperate; as though they held the answers both were desperately seeking.

Raleigh swung his legs over and jumped down from the ledge, his desire growing as Ella jumped into his arms, gown flowing as she wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck. The kisses persisted, harder and faster. He lowered the both of them to the warm concrete and slid a blanket out from behind a box, laying her down onto the soft fabric.

He kneeled on top of her, caressing her exposed legs as his mouth sought her collarbone. She let out a quiet moan as she guided him up higher, needing him to touch her; needing him to make her quiver. Her hands played with the hem of his pants, gently stroking the skin below. His breath hitched, and he abruptly stopped her. “Before we do this,” he whispered. “I...I need you to know that it can’t mean anything.”

Her heart dropped. “Can’t mean anything?” Was he serious? What about how he looked at her? How he held her? How he...how he touched her? God, she was so stupid. Of course. She was just another notch on Raleigh Carrera’s belt.

“It’s just a bit of fun,” he repeated, but the meaning of the words didn’t quite meet his eyes. She was such an idiot. Ella pushed him off of her, refusing to let him see the tears threatening to run down her cheeks. “Ella, wait-” She shook her head.

“I’m not just a bit of fun, Raleigh Carrera,” she replied to behind her, her voice breaking. Shit. The stinging became too much and she wiped her eyes, knowing that the mascara had smeared over her perfectly made-up skin. She quickly dialed Hank’s number, the need to get away from Raleigh tearing her insides apart.

Though he called for her, Raleigh didn’t follow as she made her way out of the building and down to the sidewalk. He stood watching her shoulders heave up and down as sobs began to choke out of her. He wanted to hold her; wanted to be there. Wanted to apologize; wanted to say he didn’t mean it. Wanted to say he was scared, no, terrified of how he felt about her.

But instead, he just watched as her limo driver came up to the sidewalk, pulling him into his strong arms and glaring up at Raleigh. He rubbed his hand down his face, wetness spilling down from his eyes to his cheeks. It was for her own good, he told himself. I’m no good.

#playchoices fanfic #playchoices #fanfic #raleigh carrera fanfic #male raleigh x mc #raleigh x mc #male raleigh carrera fanfic #platinum #playchoices platinum #platinum fanfic #platinum fanfiction

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insideoutstory · 6 years ago

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Inside Out → Chapter Twenty

summary: Eleven’s experiment in the bath brings everyone to some emotional tipping points. word count: 5.8k warnings: Found family feels, grieving

[ masterlist ] [ FF.net ]

Getting to the middle school was no easy feat. Jonathan’s car only held five people, and while the chief’s car was bigger, there were still only five seats. Much to Hopper’s annoyance, the kids were still refusing to split up, and Christine wouldn’t let them out of her sight. Eventually, Jonathan had to surrender his keys to her again so they could all ride together. He stayed behind with Nancy to help Hopper and Mrs. Byers load the old kiddy pool into the back of the truck.

The kids all resumed their same spots in the car. The boys sat in the back, reviewing the notes Christine had taken down from Mr. Clarke and discussing their supplies. Hopper was bringing the pool. To fill it, they’d need hoses from the groundskeeper’s storeroom. They figured the best place to set up would be the gymnasium. They’d have enough room to set up, and they could use the taps from the locker rooms. The salt they would get from storage out back, where Hopper knew they stored the road salt for the parking lot. After that, it was just a matter of keeping things quiet and dark enough for Eleven to do her thing.

Eleven was not speaking. She’d just been sitting anxiously in the passenger seat, rubbing her hands up and down her legs. Christine had put on some music to soothe her, and reached over to take her hand again.

She was trying not to show it, but she was just as scared as Eleven was. She’d seen the strain Eleven’s power put on her. Hopefully the pool would help stretch her abilities a bit farther, but there was still a pretty high risk. Christine didn’t want to see Eleven ashen and bleeding again, passing out from the strain of projecting herself into an alternate dimension. But Eleven was the only shot they had.

The rest of Christine’s fears were about answers. She didn’t know what she’d do if they didn’t like the ones they got. What if Eleven couldn’t find Barb and Will? Because Jonathan had been right. If the Upside Down was a mirror of their universe, they had the whole world to hide. What if they weren’t even in alternate Hawkins anymore? Just how much could Eleven’s powers take before they gave out? Or worse, what if they were too late? What if Will really was gone? Or Barb, or both of them?

Christine shook her head, and squeezed the steering wheel a little tighter. They’d cross that bridge when they came to it. For now, they had to focus on the isolation tank. One thing at a time.

It was eerie to drive through the school’s empty parking lot. Christine drove the car around back and parked by the gym. She hopped out first, striding to the doors and giving them a solid tug. All she managed to do was hurt her shoulder. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to her that the school might be locked on a Saturday night.

“Shit.”

“What’s shit?” asked Dustin, stretching as he exited the car.

“It’s locked,” Christine complained. “And watch your language.”

“What happened to ‘I’m not your mother’ and ‘you can curse as much as you want’?”

“I changed my mind. Just get back in the car. We’ll check out the front, or…I don’t know. A window.”

She’d made it halfway to the car when the door swung open behind her. Christine jumped, whirling around. It took a second for her brain to catch up. When it did, she frowned at Eleven, who was surreptitiously wiping her nose.

“You, just…stop that. Save your energy.”

“You’re just mad cause she scared you,” snickered Mike, and he led the way into the building.

The chief’s truck pulled up a few minutes later, and Hopper gave them their marching orders. He and Jonathan would take care of the salt. The Wheelers would handle the hoses, while Dustin and Lucas did their best to set up the pool. Hopper had tried to stick Mrs. Byers with them to supervise, but she’d made her own adamant case. She was going with Christine to prep Eleven. That was final.

That was how Christine ended up walking through the science wing of Hawkins Middle with Joyce Byers, a quiet Eleven walking between them. Christine had expected there to be some sort of interrogation. Mrs. Byers probably had a thousand questions for the psychic kid who’d tracked down her son. But she was quiet for most of the walk, and when she finally did pipe up, it was to Christine.

“I remember you, you know,” she said. “After you said that thing about Will liking colors, I started to remember. You were there when I took him to see Poltergeist. Hid a bag of M&M’s in the bottom of his popcorn. He really loved it. I never got to thank you.”

Christine gave her a tight smile. It was an embarrassing thing for someone to remember. She had no idea what to say in response. Thankfully, Mrs. Byers let her off the hook.

“Do you still work at The Hawk?”

“Yeah,” Christine said with relief. “It’s not bad. I wish we had more movies, but we’re getting a new one next week. And I get to see all the new stuff when it comes out.”

“That’s nice,” she said lightly. It was the obligatory response before her next question. “I don’t suppose you know anything about…you know. The fight Jonathan was in.”

“Oh, uh…you should probably just ask him about that.”

Mrs. Byers nodded. It didn’t seem like she’d expected anything different. There was a part of Christine that was screaming for her to bring up the photographs Jonathan had taken, but she did her best to quiet it. Now was not the right time to be a tattle tale. They’d come back around to that disturbing detail later, she was sure.

“I hope you didn’t do too much damage.”

“Sorry?” Christine asked.

Mrs. Byers pointed knowingly down at her hand, the one that was holding Eleven’s. The bruises were still visible through El’s fingers. Christine gasped.

“Oh! No, that—that wasn’t Jonathan! I was fighting this asshole named Tommy. It was…it was a big thing.”

“And this thing…had nothing to do with Jonathan’s fight?”

“Well…like I said. I think you should talk to him.”

“Right.” Mrs. Byers bobbed her head. “Can I ask what he said? This other boy?”

“He just…He said some not great things about Nancy. But I guess I can’t talk. I’ve said some not great things about her too.”

Christine grimaced, her own poor words resurfacing in her brain. But to her surprise, Mrs. Byers just nodded sagely.

“Friendship can be weird like that. Especially in high school. Everyone says things they don’t mean. Sometimes you need the drama to remind you how important your friends are. Sometimes it’s classes and boys, and…sometimes, it’s uh—it’s science fiction monsters.”

“Both, actually,” Christine said with a snort.

They finally found a lab room that would have what they needed. Christine flicked on the lights, urging Eleven into a desk so she could look for the safety goggles she wanted. Mrs. Byers hung back by the door, wringing her hands.

“So, how can I help? What else do you need? Should we find you some different clothes? Maybe something a little lighter than your dress?”

“Good luck with that,” Christine laughed as she was going through the cabinets.

“Oh, I’m sure we could find something around here. A big T-shirt, or…”

“No, I mean getting her to change. I’ve been trying for a few days now. But she loves that dress and she will not take it off.”

“Well, I can see why,” Mrs. Byers said kindly. “You look very pretty in it.”

Eleven muttered her thanks, and Mrs. Byers turned back to Christine.

“Was it yours?”

“Ha, uh no. Nancy’s. I left the boys alone for one afternoon and they took her back to the Wheelers’ to give her a makeover. She got the new dress, new tube socks, makeup. Even a blonde wig.”

“I’m sure that looked beautiful. And it probably only made you look even more like sisters.”

Christine stilled with the goggles in her hands. “Really?”

“Oh, definitely,” said Mrs. Byers. “It’s a little bit the face—you both have those big, pretty brown eyes. But mostly…it’s just the way you are with each other. Jonathan’s the same way with Will. Protective, encouraging. I’d know it anywhere. You girls must be very close.”

It was a simple observation, but Christine couldn’t help but take it as a compliment. She had a feeling that was how Mrs. Byers had intended it. She still had that warm, knowing smile. The farthest thing from the crazed, delusional woman Christine had feared she might be. Maybe it was the situation, but she just seemed like a really good mom.

“I guess we are,” said Christine, smiling slightly.

She could feel Eleven’s eyes on her, one of her intense, probing gazes that burned the skin. Christine bashfully passed the goggles to Mrs. Byers.

“Uh, here. I’m…I’m gonna see if I can find some duct tape to black them out.”

They did the best they could with the goggles. Christine found some duct tape in the emergency station, and cut long strips so Mrs. Byers could stick them on. They weren’t especially stylish, but they were dark enough, and they’d keep the water out.

“There we go,” Mrs. Byers said to herself as she smoothed out the last strip. She held them up for Eleven to see. “This will keep it dark for you. Just like in your bathtub.”

Eleven nodded. She’d grown quiet again, her nerves more evident on her face as their to do list got shorter and shorter. It was clear whatever “the bathtub” meant to her, it wasn’t good. She wasn’t looking forward to doing it again.

Christine wished there was something she could do to stop it. But Eleven knew she was their only hope. It was why she wasn’t putting up a fight. The only thing Christine could do was pick her nails, and keep the depths of her concerns to herself. Mrs. Byers let out a deep sigh.

“You’re a very brave girl,” she told Eleven. “You know that, don’t you? Everything you’re doing for my boy…for Will…for—for my family…thank you.”

Eleven smiled meekly, much like Christine had earlier. She wasn’t used to being thanked. And much like earlier, Mrs. Byers didn’t seem to need a response. She took Eleven’s hands in her own and continued to encourage her earnestly.

“Listen. Christine and I are going to be there with you the whole time. And if it ever gets too scary, in that—in that place…you just let us know, okay?”

Eleven looked between the two of them, nodding. “Yes.”

“Ready?”

And after an extra moment of trembling breath, Eleven nodded again. “Ready.”

As they walked back to the group, Eleven stood between them again. Her left hand was wrapped around Christine’s, and her right stayed firmly in Mrs. Byers’.

Everyone had already reconvened by the time they reached the gymnasium. Hopper and Jonathan were pouring salt into the water, Nancy and Lucas standing by with rakes to push it around and help it dissolve.

“You know,” Christine called, “it might’ve been easier to use hot water to dissolve the salt, and then just wait until it cooled to the right temperature.”

“Shut up, Chrissy,” Dustin snapped. “Next time, I’ll use the duct tape and you can build the sensory deprivation tank.”

“We might actually have to do that, you know. Doubt Mr. Clarke is gonna get off my back about the science fair.”

“We’ve almost got it,” said Mike, staring down at the water. “I feel good about it this time, Dustin.”

They all watched as the salt swirled around the bottom of the pool, slowly growing smaller and smaller and—finally—disappearing. Dustin grabbed a half-carton of eggs off the supply cart. He held his breath and placed the egg into the water. It bobbed for a moment, then settled gently on the surface. It was truly, properly floating.

Mike slapped Dustin on the arm in shock, while Lucas clapped him on the back. Christine beamed with pride, stepping up behind him and rubbing his hat over his curls.

“Nice job, boy genius,” she congratulated.

The joy of victory was short lived. Now that they had a working bathtub, all that remained was to put Eleven in it. Hopper left to douse the lights, while Mike and Lucas turned up the volume on Will’s supercomm. Christine and Joyce helped steady Eleven as she stepped out of her socks and shoes. She reluctantly handed Mike his watch. And once she was ready, she put on her goggles and stepped out into the water.

Everyone gathered around the pool to watch. They were spread around the edge, all staring into the center. In the semi-dark, it felt like some sort of séance. Christine held her breath, and tried to ignore the hairs on the back of her neck that were screaming that something was wrong.

Mrs. Byers reached over and patted Christine on the knee.

Eleven worked faster this time. The dim lights of the gym flickered overhead after scarcely a minute, and the interference from the walkie had already reached an eerie hum. She floated with arms stretched out toward the sides, her mouth agape, head twitching back and forth as if she were trying to read something very large very fast. The only sound in the room was the rippling of the water and Eleven’s shaking breath. Everyone else was paralyzed to the core.

“Barb? Barbara?”

Nancy gasped and grabbed Christine’s hand. Christine squeezed reassuringly, turning her gaze to the walkie. She just wanted to hear Barb’s voice. They’d tried twice and failed, but this was number three. That was the charm. Now she’d be able to hear her.

But the walkie stayed silent. Eleven’s breathing picked up. The water rippled around her even though she wasn’t actually moving. Overhead, the gym lights flickered again, then snapped off abruptly.

“What’s happening?” Nancy asked nervously.

Mike shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Is Barb okay? Is she okay?”

Christine felt the nausea rising in her throat. She bit hard on the inside of her cheek, staring down the supercomm, willing it to speak. She knew her grip on Nancy’s hand was throttling, but she could not escape the swelling fear in her chest. Barb was coming. She was going to hear Barb’s voice. Barb was…

“Gone.”

Eleven’s voice broke as she choked out the word. She said it again, and again, her head jerking back and forth. The walkie was practically screaming on the supply cart. A wave shot up from the center of the pool, slapping violently against the sides.

“Gone. Gone. Gone.”

It was all Christine could do not to vault herself into the pool. Out of grief, or concern, either one. Nancy had already beaten her to crying, one hand clapped over her mouth and squeezing her sobs back inside. Eleven was beginning to thrash in the water—screaming, terrified—but Christine was scared to touch her in her trance. She felt trapped inside herself, just like Eleven.

“It’s okay,” Mrs. Byers whispered, leaning over the water to grab one of Eleven’s arms. “It’s okay. Christine? It’s okay.”

With a start, Christine realized Mrs. Byers’ other hand was on her own. She gently squeezed her wrist, pulling her hand out over the water. It was a moment before Christine caught on. When her shock finally faded away, she choked back her tears and grabbed the small hand that was reaching out for her.

“I’m right here, El. It’s okay. There’s nothing you can do. Just breathe. It’s okay. We’ve got you.”

Mrs. Byers echoed her reassurances on Eleven’s other side. Slowly but surely, Eleven’s breathing began to steady. She clung to their hands like lifelines, her lips still trembling. The water stilled around her. The radio resumed its normal hum, and the lights went dark once more. Mrs. Byers retracted her hand cautiously, but Christine left hers securely in Eleven’s grip.

“Castle Byers…?”

Jonathan and his mother both froze as Eleven tested the words in the air. Christine grit her teeth and said a silent prayer. God, they could not go through that again. He had to be okay. Will had to be okay…

It took a couple seconds, but Eleven finally spoke again.

“Will. Will?”

Mrs. Byers shuddered a gasp. She gripped Eleven’s arm tighter, not needing any more information.

“You tell him—tell him I’m coming,” she pleaded. “Mom is coming.”

Eleven repeated the words into the air. On the cart, the radio crackled to life.

“Hurry…”

Christine could have collapsed over from the relief that went through her bones. He was still alive. If nothing else, Will was still alive. They had time.

“Okay, listen,” Mrs. Byers was instructing, leaning out over the pool. “You tell him to—to stay where he is. We’re coming. We’re coming, okay? We’re coming, honey.”

Again, Eleven repeated the words. She said Will’s name, waiting for him, asking for some kind of response. But something was wrong. The static on the supercomm was distorting again. It squealed, and though Eleven wasn’t crying in the pool, they could hear her sobs and screams floating through from the other world. The water in the pool was starting to shake again. Everyone exchanged a terrified look.

And then Christine heard the familiar clicking over the radio.

“Eleven, come back,” she ordered. “Eleven, get out of there now!”

There was a colossal splash as Eleven sprang up from the pool. She ripped her goggles off, breathing heavily and shaking like a leaf. Christine wasted no time in tugging her close, wrapping her arms around her and tucking her head underneath her chin.

“It’s okay, El. I’ve got you. You’re okay. You did good. You did so good.”

Eleven gripped tight to her arm, crying into the stiff, white fabric of her sleeves. A comforting hand stroke Christine’s back, reached around and held Eleven as well. Christine didn’t need to look up to know it was Joyce.

“Hop…” she whispered.

“Yeah, I got it,” he said, without needed to hear the rest of the plea.

There was a shuffle around the pool as everyone got up. Hopper left again to find the lights, the kids all converging on the other side of the pool to watch Eleven warily. Jonathan hovered behind his mom, too worried to interrupt but probably too relieved about his brother to stray far from her.

Nancy stood and walked away. The door to the gym swung shut behind her, echoing ominously around the gymnasium. Christine knew she should go after her. But she also knew Nancy needed space. And Eleven needed to be okay first.

“Come on,” Christine coaxed, helping her to her feet. “Let’s get you dried off.”

She and Mrs. Byers did the best they could wring out the fabric of Eleven’s dress. Mike brought over one of the towels, but seemed to sense that it wasn’t time to talk yet. He handed it to Eleven with a bracing smile, letting his hand trail over hers. Then he retreated to the other side of the pool to stand with Lucas and Dustin.

Mrs. Byers was looking back towards Jonathan.

“Go,” Christine offered with a nod.

“Oh…no, it’s…”

“It’s okay,” Christine said firmly. “I’ve got her.”

The woman nodded, patting Eleven’s back one last time. Then she hurried over to her eldest son and pulled him into a bone crushing hug. It hurt Christine to watch. She was relieved, happy for them. But she couldn’t help but think how Barb’s parents would never get the same privilege.

Christine eased Eleven down onto the bleacher, and wrapped the towel tighter around her shoulders. After she was settled, Christine started shedding her work uniform.

“I hate this thing,” she babbled as she tossed the clip on bowtie onto the seat. “It’s so uncomfortable. I don’t know why we need to wear uniforms to look presentable anyway. It’s not like people don’t know I work there. I’m the one behind the counter, right?”

She shed the dripping button down and dropped it onto the gym floor. She shivered in the black tank top. It was cold in the gym. But there wasn’t time to linger on it.

“I’m sorry,” Eleven whispered.

Christine looked down at her sadly. Eleven wouldn’t look up. Her eyes were fixed on the bowtie, which she’d picked up and began twirling in her hands. Still, Christine knew she wasn’t apologizing for the uniform.

“It’s not your fault,” Christine reminded her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Barb was…it was an accident. There’s nothing you could have done. There’s probably nothing any of us could have done. But I know that doesn’t stop it from hurting, or being scary.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Christine ran a hand over her head, then slipped out of her seat. She kneeled on the floor in front of Eleven, forcing the girl to meet her gaze. “Hey. If it wasn’t for you, we never would have known what happened to Barb. You gave us the truth. And sometimes that’s all you can ask for.”

It was hard, but Christine tried to smile. She closed Eleven’s hands over the bowtie and rubbed the skin reassuringly. Eleven watched her fingers intently.

“Joyce said…like sisters.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she did.” Christine laughed weakly, and ran a thumb over the back of Eleven’s wrist. “You remember when I showed you that picture of me and Dustin? And I said he was like my annoying little brother? It’s like that. Sometimes, when we spend a lot of time with people, they become like your family. And that’s great, because you can be super close, closer than friends, and it’s the family you choose for yourself. So it’s not about who your parents are. It’s just about who you care about, and who your family is here.”

Christine laid a hand over her chest, tapping on her heart. Eleven squinted at her. Uncertainly, she raised a hand to copy her.

“So…sisters?”

Christine but her lip, unsure if she was trying to hide her smile or her tears.

“Yeah. Sisters. Definitely.”

“Alright, break it up!” Dustin pushed past Christine, plopping down next to Eleven so he could throw his arms around her as well. “She’s our friend, too.”

“Are you okay?” Mike asked, sitting on her other side. “That looked really scary.”��

“Okay,” Eleven confirmed with a nod.

“Are you okay, Chrissy?” asked Lucas.

“Me? Yeah, I’m—I’m fine.” The boys shared a dubious look, which did not make Christine feel self-conscious in the slightest. She braved another smile, rubbing Lucas on the shoulder. “Seriously, guys. I’m fine.”

“Y-Yeah,” he said, grinning widely. “We just wanted to...you know. Make sure.”

Dustin made a loud coughing sound, which sounded suspiciously like the word “whipped.” Lucas reached around Eleven’s back and smacked him on the head. Mike hit Lucas in the chest, then fixed Christine with a solemn gaze.

“We’re sorry about Barb,” he said softly. “Really.”

Everyone stilled, which made it harder to keep her voice level when she replied.

“Yeah. Me too.” Christine cleared her throat and climbed to her feet. “Speaking of, I’m gonna go check on Nancy. Keep an eye on these idiots for me, okay, El? You’re in charge.”

The boys grumbled, and Eleven gave her a proud nod. “Okay.”

Christine grinned. She pressed a quick kiss to the top of Eleven’s head, then crossed the gym so she could step out into the hallway.

In a lot of ways, Hawkins High School and Hawkins Middle School were mirrors of each other. They had the same departments in the same places, the same number of students. They even had the same ugly tiger mural on the wall outside the gymnasium. Nancy sat underneath it, her back pressed to the wall and her face hidden in her knees. Even if the hall hadn’t been so quiet, her shaking shoulders showed she was crying from a mile away.

Christine closed the door to the gym as quietly as she could. Then she walked over to the mural and nudged Nancy with the toe of her boot.

Nancy jumped, and scrambled to wipe the tears from her face. “Sorry, I’m—oh. Christine.”

“Just me,” she said, holding her hands up in the air. She pressed her back to the tiger, and slid down next to Nancy. “Don’t stop crying on my account. I was kinda planning on catching up.”

“No, I’m sorry. God, I—I know I’m being stupid, it’s just...”

“Woah, hey.” Christine gaped at her, and nudged her knee firmly. “Nothing about this is stupid. I mean this is...this is Barb we’re talking about...”

“I know, but there’s so much more going on.” Nancy ran her hands over her head, forcing her flyaway hairs back into her orderly ponytail. “With Eleven and Will and...I mean, look at you. You’re not crying.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Christine groaned. “I feel bad enough as it is.”

“Don’t. Seriously, Chris. You’re probably just in shock.”

“But that’s the awful thing. I feel like...I’m just not. Part of me feels like I knew the whole time, you know? The minute you told me you hadn’t heard from her. And then I feel like shit because it’s like...it’s like I’d already given up on her.”

“You did not give up on her,” Nancy said vehemently. “None of us did. If we had, none of us would be here, right? And now...now we have a chance to save Will.”

She nodded adamantly, more to herself than anything. Christine could practically see her brain resetting, working hard to stay focused and keep from shutting down. Barb was gone. But they weren’t out of the woods yet.

The doors to the gym slammed open again. Hopper burst through, blowing right past them and out the second set of doors to the parking lot. Jonathan and his mother were hot on his heels. They struggled with the second door as it threatened to shut them in, then followed Hopper outside. Everyone was fighting—and not quietly. Not that it was a secret what the fight was about, anyway. Hopper was attempting to save the day solo. Mrs. Byers wasn’t about to let him. Nancy and Christine could hear crystal clear as she went off on him, reminding him that Will was her son and that nothing on heaven or earth would stop her from going after him. Jonathan’s voice chimed in, saying that he could come, that he could help. But things must not have gone his way.

They listened as the chief’s truck sped away from the school. Then the doors opened one more time, and Jonathan trudged back inside. He joined them wordlessly. With his back pressed to the wall, he slid down on the other side of Nancy. And then they sat in silence.

“What’s Castle Byers?” Christine finally asked.

“His clubhouse,” Jonathan answered weakly. “We built it together, in the woods out back. So he’d have someplace to hide when Mom and Dad were fighting.”

“Far?”

“Not from here. But they have to go through the lab and then walk, so…”

Neither of them finished the thought. Christine knew from personal experience how long it took to hike around Hawkins to the Byers’ house. Hopper and Mrs. Byers would have a long trek ahead of them. And that was if they could make it through the guards at Hawkins Laboratory. If Will had told them to hurry, how much time did they really have?

“We need to go back to the station.”

Christine and Jonathan both turned to Nancy in surprise. She was staring a hole at the tiles in front of her. Her eyes were shining, but completely focused.

“What?” asked Jonathan.

“Your mom and Hopper are just walking in there like bait. That thing is still in there. And we can’t just sit here and let it get them too.”

“Nancy,” Christine said lowly. “We’re not exactly…”

“We can’t.” Nancy turned to her, completely resolute. “We can’t give up, right? We have to keep fighting, we…we have to do something.”

“But do what?”

“You still want to try it out?” Jonathan asked Nancy.

“I wanna finish what we started,” she replied. “I want to kill it.”

She and Jonathan nodded at each other. They both looked determined, their jaws set and their hands curled into fists on their knees. But Christine was still tripping a couple steps behind.

“Wait,” she said, glancing between them. “That’s what all the shit in the box was for? You’re gonna try and hunt it down?”

“We’re gonna trap it,” said Jonathan. “And then, yeah. We’re gonna kill it.”

“What did you think we were doing?” Nancy asked.

“I don’t know! Booby trapping the house for protection?”

“We are,” she said plainly. “And then we’re gonna try and summon it.”

“S-Summon…? Nance, I know I joked it was a demon, but…”

“No, I mean like—call it. We think it can sense blood. Track it. That’s how it found Barb.”

“And how it followed Will,” Jonathan agreed. “After he fell off his bike.”

“So we go to Jonathan’s house, set up the traps, and lure it in. The lights are already set up, and that way we’ll know it’s coming.”

“Guys, this is insane,” Christine pleaded. “This thing is—it’s huge! And it’s dangerous, and…”

“I know exactly what it is.”

Christine faltered. Of course Nancy knew what the Demogorgon was. She’d seen it, already gotten trapped once, gone up against it once. It just made trying again seem all the more crazy.

“Nance,” she begged, turning to face her fully. “Don’t…Don’t do this. We just lost Barb, and…if anything happened to you…”

Nancy nodded in understanding. She took Christine’s hand and squeezed it hard, just as imploring.

“That’s exactly why I have to. We can’t let it kill anyone else. Not Will, or Hopper, or Mrs. Byers.”

They stared each other down. They fought silently through their hands, each trying to squeeze the other one into agreeing with them. Christine thought she was pretty strong. But in the end, she was the one who deflated.

“Barb would kill us for doing something this stupid, you know.”

“Probably,” Nancy said with a watery smile. “But she’d come with us anyway.”

“Us?” asked Jonathan.

“Of course ‘us,’” Christine scoffed. “You don’t think I’m gonna let you two get yourselves killed alone, do you?”

“But what about the kids?”

That did make Christine pause. She didn’t want to leave the kids behind. But she couldn’t let Nancy go up against the Demogorgon with only Byers for backup. That was more dangerous than waiting at the school. Even if Eleven did have government scientists looking for her, the kids were smart. They knew how to keep their heads down avoid detection. They’d done alright for the last week, hadn’t they?

…but what if that luck ran out?

“We divide and conquer,” Nancy said, squeezing her hand again. “The lab will be busy enough dealing with Hopper and Mrs. Byers. We keep the monster busy, and it all keeps everything away from Eleven. The kids will be fine.”

Christine nodded, trying to convince herself. The kids would be fine. They knew the score, and knew the dangers. Plus, they had Eleven. It would be okay.

“Okay,” she said shakily. “Let’s do this.”

They all got to their feet, shaking out the trembling in their hands.

“Your dad still have that shotgun in the garage?” Nancy asked smile, and Christine nodded. “Good. So we’ll go to the station, pick up our stuff, and then swing by your house to pick up yours.”

“What about the lab guys?” Jonathan asked. “They were swarming her house before.”

“They must’ve cleared it by now though, right?”

“I guess. But what if they’re watching it?”

“I don’t know. We’ll just have to…”

Jonathan and Nancy continued to bicker on, picking apart the plan and trying to find the best way to proceed. But Christine was having a hard time focusing.

She drifted over to the doors of the gymnasium, peeking inside just as she had during the assembly. There were the kids, alone on the bleachers. Eleven was wrapped in her towel, leaning heavily on Mike’s shoulder. Lucas sat behind her, rubbing her back comfortingly as he talked to Dustin on Mike’s other side. They looked so small. It almost snapped her resolution clean in two.

Almost as if she’d sensed it, Eleven looked up and caught her eye. She smiled. It was small, and it was sad. Just like every other time she’d stared at Christine, it gave off the sense that she’d analyzed everything around her. Like she knew everything about Christine from her favorite color to the conversation she’d just been having in the hall.

Eleven lifted a hand, and tapped her heart.

After a long night of holding it back, Christine felt her tears beginning to escape over her cheeks. She forced her face into one more smile, and tapped her own heart too. With Eleven’s permission, she turned away and followed Nancy and Jonathan out the door.

#ocappreciation #fyeahstrangerthingsocs #stranger things #stranger things oc #stranger things fanfiction #chapters #chapter 20

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