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espinosaurusrexex · 2 years

Text

Flooded

SteveRogers x Female!Reader

summary: There was something off in the air that morning - Y/N should have known. But bad things always happen when you least expect them. The life she was living was threatened by the one secret she hoped would never be revealed. And now that it had, there was no going back.

a/n: Welcome to heartbreak city! This is dedicated to my 2015 teen wolf obsession (make sure to tell me when you find the passage). I know it's sad and angsty; but I put a bunch of fluff in there too. I hope you enjoy - as always, feedback is appreciated!

word count: 5.5k

warnings: torture, trauma, drowning, experimenting on people (in flashbacks), mentions of abuse, mentions of dying, angst (in case that wasn't clear), swearing, idiots in love, fluff, and a happy ending :)

I don't think the bad parts are super descriptive, but please do not read if anything mentioned in the warnings makes you uncomfortable (18+ only!).

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

This just captures the vibe too well. You'll know the passage... i'll never fall in love with myself - Zeph

It’s normal to feel your heart in your head right? Like it’s pounding so hard that it literally makes your veins jump beneath your skin? There was a rush of adrenaline shooting through Y/N‘s Body. Pain sharp as lightning zickzacking its way down her spine and up again. Her lungs felt tight. Solid. As if they were of stone weighing her down and not giving in to her urge to breathe. It felt like that. And the look at the rusted metal door with the white number ’15’ brought back an awful lot of pain. Blue and green splashing their way through her brain, voices layering over one another, and a distinct smell of chemicals in her nose. Oh no. She was back there. Right now. How was that possible? How did it get that far? Were there not a bunch of people making sure that this would never happen to her again? A shiver overtook her but at the same time, sweat assembled on her skin. The room was wet and moldy and sterile all at once. No. No. No. She escaped, she was safe - fought her way through hell to get there. There was no way this was really happening.

Dull voices broke through to her. “We’re at 12 Minutes”. “180, going down”. Beeping of sorts and then - somehow, through all the water and noise, the unremarkable sound of pen on paper. What an odd thing to remember, right? But Y/N recalled thinking ‘what an odd thing to hear’ back then. Not now, though. Now it was… normal. But that day it wasn’t. It was in fact the very first time it had ever happened and the moment everyone had seemed to work towards. Even if Y/N didn’t know it back then, she was the breakthrough Hydra needed to create yet another group of human weapons. One that luckily never saw the light of day.

They didn’t know. And it should stay that way. Y/N didn’t want to be associated with Hydra anymore. She never did. She wanted to be herself when she joined the Avengers. A woman with power and endurance and, well, certain enhanced abilities. There was one person that knew how she got them, and that person was Nick Fury. But he had promised to keep his mouth shut. Y/N held onto that promise because it kept her from losing her mind - reminded her that she became who she was without their help. She had escaped, and fought, and grieved, and wept in order to get over that old self. And yet, despite all the hard work, she was in that old skin again.

It shouldn’t be possible though. She had put a recognizable amount of time into burying every piece of evidence of her past life - Her dumb anxiety included. But here it was: dark and strong and the thing that would ruin everything, every piece of harmony she had associated with its absence.

Y/N was frozen to the ground, the image of the door branding itself into her mind and leaving a burning hole in its wake that made her head feel blank. Because that’s how it had always been: at first there is so much going on in your head that it feels like exploding and then, all of a sudden, it's wiped off everything. And all you are left with is this shell of a body that is not responsive to anything.

She didn’t know how long she had been standing in that hallway. A minute? Maybe an hour? Time moves differently when you’re not really there. But after whatever amount of time had passed, another voice rang through to her. A deep, and reasoning one, pressing and dripping of worry, though. Y/N shook her head. Steve. Steve was here.

❁ ❁ ❁

“I can’t have my team zoning out on missions.” The impatient voice echoed through the room accommodated by an expensive pair of shoes clicking on the polished floor. “We’ve had the problem before and I don’t like being lied to. Tell me what’s going on or she’s off.” Toni was pacing the floor of the common room until he came to a stop in front of Fury with his hands resting on his hips impatiently. But the man dressed in black didn’t do so much as move a muscle. He was casually lounging on the cushioned chair, waiting for his employee to finish.

“This might not feel like a big problem to you, Nick, but wait until half the Avengers are wiped out because Will Byers over here risks their lives by not cooperating.” Fury’s eye twitched when it lifted to the woman tugged into the corner. She had already been staring at him, trying to drag out the unavoidable, but there was no stopping this. She knew that, and he knew that too.

“I can’t.” He said while still staring at Y/N. Nick would have done everything to prevent this very moment from happening, he had kept his promise for years. But this - this was the signal for her to know: ‘It’s on you now. You make the call.’

Y/N stared down at her hands that were nervously fumbling in her lap. Though from a distance it might have looked like she was disinterestedly avoiding everyone's eyes on her. Because they were - especially a specific pair of blue ones. Every single person in the room was expecting her to say something. Even more so the man whose worried expression hadn’t faded ever since he had dragged her out of that base hours ago. And even now - away from harm and safely huddled in the confines of the compound, his unrelenting stare was drenched in fear and urgency. Y/N didn't even have to look up to confirm her suspicions. Steve had not moved ever since she sat down in that chair, his arms crossed, shoulders hunched, and eyebrow furrowed as his gaze locked on her. He probably tried to find something - a twitch of a brow or the corner of her mouth - something to tell him that she was okay. But Y/N fought with everything she had not to give him that - because she was in fact not okay. She was far from it, and the storm of emotions rioting through her stomach did very well prove it as nausea crept up her throat.

She was about to reveal the very thing she had kept hidden for years - something she never thought would get dug up again. But here she was: moments away from having every assumption about her changed for the worse. And Y/N hated it. She hated that this would be defining who she was from now on. Because it always did. It happened with Bucky and it happened with Wanda, hell even Steve didn’t get away without being associated with Hydra. Even if his story bore a different relationship to the World War II organization.

Y/N didn’t want to tell them, but deep down she knew that she would. Because what were her other options? Leaving the Avengers and drowning in sorrow over the lost family she had gained not too many years ago? God, that sounded like the villain origin story. No, she had to come clean, even if it hurt her and her status and possibly every other person surrounding her right now.

A wave of heat overtook her body, but her hands were cold. There was no going back - Y/N owed it to the team. Tony had every right to know what had put his people in danger today, but that didn’t change the fact that it would hurt nonetheless. Because she would be brought back there in her mind. And when she slowly inhaled to talk again, she tried to remember what it felt like to be free, even if the rushing of water already flooded her ears.

“You know when you’re drowning you don’t actually inhale until right before you black out.” Y/N was still staring at her fingers, desperately holding onto something she could feel. She was nervous to say the least, even if she knew exactly what her next words were going to be.

“It’s called voluntary apnea.” She had known it for years, starting with picking up pieces of conversation in the labs and ending with a reality-shattering file search that settled the gravity of what had actually happened to her. Y/N closed her eyes as she remembered that day, trying to hold the hot tears pooling in her eyes at bay.

“It’s like no matter how much you’re freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won’t open your mouth until you feel like your head’s exploding.” We’re at 12 minutes. 180, going down. Just fucking breathe. “Then when you finally do let it in, that’s when it stops hurting.” Her voice was shaky now but she was determined to pull through. Though her head was still hanging low - almost ashamed at what she was going to say next. “It’s not scary anymore, it’s… it’s actually kind of peaceful.” She shrugged weakly. “At least that’s what I told myself.”

She paused then, mentally preparing for the next part was impossible, but for some reason, she still couldn’t get it over with. This was it. This was the moment she was going to change in their eyes. The moment she would turn into a charity case that deserved nothing but sad looks and encouraging shoulder taps. And the thought of that made the lump in her throat grow. One last shaky breath and then she finally looked up, eyes locking with that of a blonde Super Soldier whose posture had faltered drastically since she last looked at him. A grey and brooding shadow had overtaken his cerulean orbs and it was shaking with the plead that settled in between: ‘Please tell me that’s not true.’

The first tear found its way down Y/N’s cheek, goosebumps rippling through her but her next words were said steadier than ever before. “I drowned in that room. One hundred and eighty-six times.”

And there it was: pity. Thick and unmistakable - smeared all over their faces. Y/N didn’t want it - dismissed it like a hot plate, pushing it further and further away from her on the table until she, herself, was backed up against the wall. They should stop pitying her. Try to feel what she felt but that proved itself difficult. Because Y/N didn’t feel anything. She’d expected to hear the voices in her head shouting numbers or smell the sterile smell of sanitizer or be unable to move - anything. But her mind was blank. It had all stopped buzzing as soon as she had stopped talking. With that last syllable, all the flashbacks faded into darkness and all that was left was this huge empty space. And she reveled in the calmness in her head for a second, but then Steve stepped forward with a heartbreaking look on his face and when he said her name and reached out his hand, that’s when her pulse picked up.

Y/N couldn’t do this - not from Steve, who was the only person whose opinion really mattered to her. Those dreadful eyes bored into hers when she sprung up from the chair, legs screeching over the dark floor, and then, she bolted.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve watched as Y/N ran out of the common room, a blank stare covering his features while his heart grew heavy with every step she took from him.

“Why didn’t you tell us?!” Tony screamed.

“She didn’t want you to know.” Fury answered, and his voice hosted a sense of sadness.

Y/N. A Hydra experiment. And Steve hadn't known. He would have never known had they not happened to raid the base she had been kept at. It killed Steve to know that he could have prevented today from happening. He could’ve told Fury what a bad idea it was had he just known. But he didn’t. Somehow it unsettled him that Y/n chose not to tell him. It was traumatic and painful but did she really think that he would judge her for it? He of all people. No, he would never.

A look at Bucky rattled another zap of pain through his bones. His friend had this distinct mystery etched on his face. And when Steve shot him a questioning glare, Bucky jerked his head to the side, signaling for the blonde to follow him.

Bucky’s shoulders were stiff when Steve watched them leading the way to a private lounge area and the spring in his step slightly faltered.

When he had woken up that morning, Steve would have never guessed that the day would bring such dramatics. It was a simple mission - one he had done several times, too. And yet it could have not gone worse than today. Steve couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him, he knew that. His position as Captain didn’t allow him to let them lead his choices. But right now, with Bucky visibly agitated and Y/N clearly upset as well, that duty seemed near impossible. He cared too much for both of those people.

Bucky stopped by the window, his gaze focused outside where the rain pattered aggressively against the concrete. He swallowed thickly before his head turned to his best friend.

“I think I remember her, Steve... I remember seeing her in the base.” Bucky finally confessed, though there was a distance in his words. And despite the information doing fairly little to calm Steve’s nerves, he was glad that his friend condoned in him.

“You do?” A hopeful wave of emotions washed him over, suggesting that he might get a little more information about Y/N’s situation. And that maybe... he had been looking out for her back then. Yes, Bucky was most certainly sedated by hydra at that time, but the Winter Soldier had proven time and time again that he was not completely clouding Bucky and his sense for the good.

“I was there. I was-“ Bucky stopped as if he had suddenly said too much. A dreadful look overtook his eyes before his jaw wired shut and Steve’s hopeful feelings vanished.

“What? What is it?” He pressed, but his friend remained silent.

Panic rose in his chest with every second filling the quiet and Steve couldn’t help but feel like the words Bucky had withheld from him drew far heavier consequences than he had anticipated.

“I - I can’t tell you that, Steve. I think you should talk to her.”

Why did everyone decide they had to hide things from him today? What could have possibly been so bad?

“Anything else I should know?” Steve asked stiffly, a slight coldness overtaking his mind.

Bucky shook his head with what looked like guilt. Nonetheless, after a frustrated huff, Steve thanked Bucky and made his way to the dormitories.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed before his chest and a worrisome look pressing on his features. But Y/N just stared blankly ahead, ignoring the boring stare from the hallway. She didn’t want him to be here. Because he was - and that Y/N was 100 percent certain of - here to tell her things she didn’t want to hear.

Their relationship had just recently reached the brooding edges of the pot. So close to overflowing into uncharted territory for the both of them. But for once in her life, Y/N had been excited about where it spilled. She wanted to feel the burning hot sensation on her skin and be dragged down into its endless abyss of warm feelings and excitement. But the information she had just dropped had taken the pot from the flame. She knew it the moment her eyes met Steve’s. They were dull, and lifeless, and sad. He had probably registered how much work she would be - would not see her as equal anymore. More of a menace than someone he could actually enjoy life with. And it broke her heart.

To say the least, there were far more parts of hers broken than her heart at this point. But Y/N didn’t know how to cope with them. For all her life, she had pushed it away. Brushed it off like it was nothing except a memory destined for her past, only allowed to creep to the surface when the dark corners of her mind leaked into the rational part of her. These times were not with people, especially not Steve - who was her captain and something more... up until now, that was.

Nonetheless, she needed a friend and Steve was the closest thing to that. Since more was probably not within her reach anytime soon, she decided to give into the nagging urge to spill every feeling on the floor before her. She looked up at him when he walked into the room and that’s when a dam of tears broke. She was ready to lay it all out bare for him. She had to, because for some reason - from one second to the other - all the things she had kept hidden for the past years felt unbearable to hold in. They seeped through her eyes in form of salty water and leaked through her nose and eventually built a big fat lump in her throat, one that was not possible to swallow. She had to get it out, along with all the other things hiding beneath.

Steve laid a warm hand on her trembling shoulder. A soft stroke pushed the last bit of reluctance from her body and prepared her to make it all go away. He was so close, but for some reason, she felt further away from him than ever before.

“You know I never stopped counting,” she whispered through ragged breaths. The nights in the dark cell encased her like a fog. Cold and moldy smells and the sound of dripping water echoed through her skull with every word she revealed to Steve.

“I thought I would lose track at one point - maybe die,” she huffed, bitterness seeping through her tone, “but they pulled me back from the dead so many times… sometimes I feel like I got stuck somewhere in between.” Not really living - not really there. But she wouldn’t say that out loud. Not again, at least. She did it once - to the Winter Soldier, when she had thought to see a glimpse of humanity seeping thought the tough exterior. But it didn’t change a thing then too.

The movement of Steve’s hand stopped but he caught himself after a beat. He probably knew what she was thinking. And he probably also thought that dying was the cowardly way out of her situation, which was why a wave of shame came over her.

“You know what’s funny? I’ve tried so hard to keep this a secret in order to have people like the real me and now... I feel like the only way I have any chance with the people I love is by giving this all away.” And it was true. Y/N felt like the last thing keeping her connected to Steve and the others was her cooperating and coming clean. She would be the prettied avenger, the one they always felt like they had to look out for - and she hated that because, really, the last thing Y/N wanted was to be babied - but if it was the last chance of keeping even a piece of them within her reach, she would have no choice but to take the deal. She would never be seen as an equal again. Always the inferior that never got over her trauma but if it meant staying with her family, she would be just that. Even if it was not even half of what she had made herself to be.

Steve’s eyes softened but at the same time, they filled with worry. His shoulders looked like they urged him to speak but his mouth closed as soon as it opened. And the last shimmer of hope vanished from Y/N’s consciousness. She wasn’t ready to let him go into pure friendship again, not when they had been dancing around the edge of something more for so long now. And she realized that now. So much, in fact, that she decided it would be better to just shut the whole thing off before the situation played out the way it was doomed to. Maybe that way she had a little more time to dwell in her fantasies.

With that thought in mind, she licked up the last pieces of pride she had and patted her hand on Steve’s knee.

“Don’t worry about it, Captain. Thank you for checking in but I’m okay.” She said steadily, though she couldn’t help but notice the slump in the man’s shoulders beside her when she led him to the door.

❁ ❁ ❁

Captain, she had called him Captain. Steve exhaled on his way to his room. For some reason, he was devastated by that even more than the events that had taken place just half an hour prior. She didn’t trust him. She never trusted him enough, for that matter, to tell him about her past. A past he very well shared and understood better than any other person on the team - well, except Bucky... and Wanda.

He had wanted to tell her that she was okay now. That she should not let her past define her. That he would never in a million years even consider neglecting her because of it. But he couldn’t. For some reason, he had been still beside her like a stupid puppet.

Tears brimmed in his eyes when he defeatedly sunk onto his bed. He wanted to stay rational. He wanted to think it through before burning up into flames, but his heart was pounding like a sledgehammer and his brain was running a mile a minute in opposite directions. There was no possibility to think straight.

His body felt torn between the two most powerful organs within him and they were fighting like there was no tomorrow. He wanted to punch the wall and lay the softest kiss on Y/N’s lips at the same time. It was infuriating.

For the first time in a long time, Steve had no idea what to do, or how to behave. There were no rules in the territory he and Y/N had created for themselves. There were times when he could come up behind her and press her into his chest and others when he wouldn’t even dare look at her. Right now, neither of these were an option, unfortunately.

Of course, deep down Steve knew that he had to talk to her again. Make sure she knew where their differences lay and clearly state what he had been thinking about the whole situation. But his heart was screaming so loud into his head that that thought never reached his ears.

It was strange, Steve was never the one to lose control over his emotions like this. But this situation felt as though it deserved every last drop of the feelings he had to offer. It was because of Y/N, of course. She tumbled up his feelings every time she looked at him. And to say that the look she had given him in the meeting room had shattered all his perceptions regarding her and her wellbeing was an understatement. He had been worried about her before. But never like this. Never in a way that had both his and her identity questioned.

For some reason, he could deal with death threats and vital injuries - it was sadly a normal routine in his line of work - but the added emotions that came with everything concerning Y/N ordered a whole new level of consciousness to his duties. He no longer felt the need to care for his team and make sure they got out of and through missions unharmed because it was his job, he now had to care for them because his heart was involved if anything were to happen to any of them. And he had to care more about himself, too because there were people who would get hurt if he were to. Y/N did that - she had sucked him into her warm and welcoming self and Steve had embraced it with all his being.

Now, he saw how dangerous that was. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. Getting closer to her was the best thing that had happened to Steve in a long time. He was happier and more energetic.

It dawned on him, then, that he had to tell her that. No matter how rage fed his brain or love blinded his heart was in the moment. Y/N deserved to know. Much like he had deserved to know about her secret much sooner. This thought sent another wave of frustration through his body. Steve tried to push it away, but it lay heavy on his heart when he stepped into the hallway, trying to suppress the nervousness brooding up within him.

❁ ❁ ❁

Y/N twitched up when the door slammed into the wall. When it bounced back from the gray concrete, there was a sizable hole visible where it jammed. But as her ears picked up on something else, that’s when her eyes wandered past the door to the heaving man within its frame. Steve’s eyes were dull, his shoulders hunched but his heart was beating at a rapid speed. He must’ve heard it in his head from the pressure with which it traveled over to Y/N.

Thumb, Thumb.

Steady and yet rapidly pounding. And for some odd reason, it had a soothing aspect on the woman. But before Y/N could register and ask what was going on, Steve stepped into the room. He was hesitant but still carried himself with a familiar confidence she’d only ever seen from him.

“I’m sorry,” he straightened up, “...for the door, I- I dint think it would open that easily.”

“It’s okay.” Y/N was still seated on her bed - hadn’t moved a muscle since Steve left.

“Y/N...” His voice was heavy with sadness, though she didn’t dare look at him. There was no going back. He would be saying what she had been dreading from the second she confessed. She didn’t also need to watch the disappointment in his eyes when he told her that itwas over - whatever it was. “I know what happened to you can’t be changed.” He sat down beside her, though there was a significant distance between the two Avengers now. “And I can only imagine how hard today has been for you. I don’t think I would be as strong as you are keeping this for yourself for so long. But you don’t have to shut us out. Please don’t shut me out, Y/N. We can help you, we can be there for you. Just... please. I don’t know how to-” he inhaled deeply but his speech didn’t continue like she had expected it to.

Y/N just sat there, her fingernails suddenly the most interesting thing to ever exist, even though there was a distressed man sitting inches away from her. Whatever he had said, because frankly, the words had swayed by her like a breeze, sounded like heartbreak to her - for her. There was pretty clear that Steve didn’t see a future for them. And if Steve thought this - the person she had grown closest to over the years - she could only imagine what the rest of the team was thinking.

Tears burned in Y/N’s eyes and when the first one fell in her lap, she closed her eyes in pain. “You pitied me..,” she whispered, the burning in her throat threatening to swallow her whole, “You felt bad for me... you of all people, you decided I need comforting.”

Steve sent a confused look at her once her eyes met his. He was looking through her gaze as if the answer to his questions lay beneath them.

“Of course I do.” He spoke calmly but irritated. Y/N shut her eyes again, trying to ignore the confirming string of pain wash over her. Somehow hearing him say it out loud was worse than she imagined.

“It shouldn’t even concern you, Steve. I’ve managed very well on my own over the past years. There is no reason for anyone to pity me-”

“Not pity,” he interrupted, “concern, yes. Pride, worry, fear... I feel all of those things for you. But not Pity.”

“But why.” The words were barely audible through the stream of tears that had broken loose by now. Y/N couldn’t possibly comprehend why Steve would say that. Because she didn’t see how Steve could see anything but her past from now on. She had struggled to do so herself at first. It had taken years to finally become herself again, even if that self bore a terrible secret for everyone else.

“Because I admire your strength. And I care about you.” His hand hovered over hers, but he didn't dare touch her just yet. “I care about you more than I probably should.” He closed his eyes and retracted his hand when he saw the dread in her eyes. “And I try to ignore it, I really do but then you come at me with that smile and with your wit, and I... I can’t stop my heart from racing.”

“I know I can hear it.” She was whispering again, feeling like an intruder for listening in on something as personal as his heartbeat.

Steve looked at her with an indescribable look on his face. “I hear yours, too, you know? But for some reason, it’s telling me other things than your eyes are.”

“What are my eyes telling you?”

Steve’s fingers grazed her chin, moving upward until his thumb stroked the skin on her cheek. “That you are afraid of something. That you are waiting for something bad to happen... but I don’t know what.” Y/N nodded in awe - somehow this man could read her better than she could herself, which was scary and comforting at the same time.

“And what is my heart telling you?” She took his hand and placed it upon her chest, where a steady rhythm pushed through her skin.

“The same thing I’ve been trying to say.” His heartbeat was steady and sure as well. It was fast, yes, but not in a bad way. There was an unfamiliar glimmer in his eyes when they softened upon her love-dazed face. Maybe her intrusive thoughts had blinded her after all...

“And what-”

Suddenly, his soft lips pressed to hers. A warm and tingling feeling traveled over Y/N’s body as her arms almost automatically reached up to his shoulders. Steve pulled her closer by her waist, deepening the kiss with the lean of his head. He was warm and he felt like the hug she had subconsciously craved ever since staring at that white number ’15’ in the base hours ago. All the tension drained from her like a waterfall. Steve pulled the fear from her body with every stroke of his tongue against hers. And for the first time in a while, Y/N felt as though everything had fallen into place. She was right where she belonged. The squeeze of Steve’s fingers reminded her of that.

When they pulled apart, breathless and floating, she tightened the grip on his collar.

“But- I thought...” Y/N breathed out shakily. Her forehead was firmly pressed against Steve’s and her lips were grazing his with every word she whispered, sending waves of shivers down her spine.

“What? That I’d sign you off as a charity case?” Steve locked his eyes on hers for the hundredth time. There was so much emotion in them. “I would never underestimate you. I know you are stronger than half the people on this team... well mentally that is.”

“Stop,” she chuckled before pressing her face into his chest. Steve kissed the top of her head as his hand began to soothingly stroke up and down her back, leaving a warm trail of comfort in its wake.

“I really like you, Y/N... and if you’d let me, I would like to take you out sometime.”

Y/N smiled. It seemed silly how worried she had been about his feelings now. Considering hers were just as strong for the man in her arms, there had not been a reason to believe it was different for him. Though the edges of self-consciousness nipped at her brain every now and then. Those were the monsters pushing intrusive thoughts into her heart - convincing her of things, for which there was no indignation. She would learn it with time - that her past didn’t define her. It did to some extent, but it would never become her entire identity. And until she could tell herself that alone, she would have Steve to help her remember.

“I would love to, Steve.”

Steve pulled back and held her by her shoulders before leaning in again. A content smile etched on his lips before they sealed to hers again, capturing her in another searing kiss.

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cyantomatos · 6 months

Text

Even Stars Will Fall - Ch 12

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x fem!Reader x Ellaria Sand Word Count: ~5.5k Warnings: I'm gonna forego warnings on this chapter for the sake of spoilers, just this once. It's not anything worse than any of the previous chapters, so you should be good if you made it here, but if anyone has any concerns, just shoot me a message. Notes: Buckle up, we made it to the end. More notes after the chapter.

Last Chapter | Masterlist

Ellaria wakes in a dark room with alarm bells going off in her head.

It takes a moment to get her bearings, but she’s out of the bed before she’s fully stable and striding to the cradle tucked into the corner. She’d never been one to let her child be cared for by a stranger and kept in a nursery, and it wasn’t going to be any different with Dorea.

When she peeks over the side, careful to be quiet, the little newborn is sleeping peacefully. Ellaria lets out a breath, certain it was just paranoia over her child that woke her, but then she realizes the alarm bells haven’t quieted. Something is wrong, she doesn’t know how she knows it, but she does. And then she feels it, a weak tug in her gut, pulling her down the hall.

Oberyn is still in the main hall, still laughing and talking to guests when Ellaria bursts in. He’s never seen her like this before, so frantic, not even about their children. Immediately he’s at her side, stopping mid-conversation with some Northern lord to go to her. Her eyes are wide, hands shaking as he takes them in his. “What is it, what is wrong, my soul?”

“She isn’t in her room, she’s gone!”

You have a headache. Like, the worst headache you’ve ever had. Well, not the worst. You got a migraine once when you were twelve, and spent the whole day in bed because it hurt to move your eyes. This isn’t that bad, but it’s still bad.

Your brain boots up slowly. First the pain in your head registers, and then just how bright wherever you are is despite your eyes being closed. Soft fabric rubs against your cheek, and you realize you’re laying on your side against sheets that feel coarser than the ones on your bed despite their softness.

Finally, you manage to open your eyes. The room around you swims into focus, and you blink a few times trying to clear the blurring from your vision.

You’re not in the palace anymore.

Whatever room you’re in is small and windowless. The bed you’re lying on is shoved into the corner, and there’s a dresser and a small vanity with a stool agains the opposite wall. The furniture is all well made, and obviously expensive, despite the dreary appearing of the room around them. The walls are bare wood, and you think it might be some sort of shed or storage room that was hastily outfitted.

The door at the far end of the room opens, and your stomach drops. Rylan is standing in the doorway, and in the few seconds before he steps in and closes the door you can see bright green plants behind him.

There’s a wide grin on his face, and the open friendliness he looks at you with stuns you for a moment. You’re so used to seeing him angry or smug or pretending at civility that the genuine expression almost breaks your brain.

“You’re awake! I was beginning to think you’d sleep the day away, my dear.”

You stare at him for a moment as he steps into the room and pushes the door closed with his foot, a tray balanced in his hands. As he walks towards you, you push yourself into a sitting position, scooting up against the headboard as far as you can. “Where am I?”

Rylan sets the tray on the vanity, and turns towards you with a cup in his hands. “My lands. Not in the main house, for right now, it would be too dangerous to have you there. Once it is obvious to my cousin that you belong with me, as my wife, you can move in there properly and have a room that befits a lady of the house.”

He holds the cup out to you with a smile, and your eyes flicker between it and his face. When you don’t take it, his smile falters, and it looks more like genuine upset than a mask slipping like it did the previous times you spoke to him. Instead of insisting he just shrugs, turning to place the cup back on the tray. “I know this may be a bit of a shock, my dear, but it is just temporary. I had to get you away from my cousin, he was clouding your mind. You could not think clearly, could not see that I only have your best interests at heart. He has that kind of effect on women, I am afraid.” Rylan shakes his head, frowning down at the tray of dishes for a moment.

After a moment of silence he turns back to you, smiling once again. “I cannot stay, my dear, I have important matters I must attend to. You will be safe here, I promise, and I will visit again soon.” He gestures to the wall above you, and you see a shelf above the bed with several books stacked on it. “Feel free to read while I am gone, I will see about getting you some other entertainment as well. Do you know how to embroider? Or draw? Well, no matter, you can learn all of that once we are married.”

Your mind is whirling, too much information to process at the moment making it hard to think. This isn’t the same confident, smarmy lord you’d dealt with at the palace. No, it seemed like he’d genuinely managed to delude himself into thinking you would go along with marriage if he only got you away from Oberyn.

Before you could react properly he turned, striding to the door. You scrambled off the bed, tripping towards him, still uncoordinated from whatever he used to knock you out.

“Rylan, wait! Wait, please, I don’t want to be here!”

The door shut firmly behind him, and you fell against it, desperately fumbling with the knob. It wouldn’t turn, and you leaned against the wood with a sinking feeling in your stomach.

You were locked in here, at the mercy of that man.

The palace was in chaos.

The moment Ellaria had told Oberyn you were gone, he began tearing the palace apart. Every guest was ordered down to the main hall, and every room was searched. He lead the search himself, tearing apart rooms without concern for the consequences. Doran was summoned, but by the time he found his brother, Oberyn was already deep on the warpath.

The elder prince found his brother in a guest room, one that hadn’t been occupied by anyone that night, ripping the mattress off the frame. There were a handful of guards standing against one wall, expressions of concern fixed on the younger prince. Doran sighed as he watched his brother, gesturing for the guards to leave.

“Oberyn. This will not solve anything.” His brother turned to him, fury etched onto his face, and flung his arms wide.

“She is gone, Doran. Someone took her, from my palace, during my party. What do you expect me to do, sit quietly until they return her? She is our soulmate.” Some of the fury leaked out of his expression, morphing into desperation as Doran stepped towards his little brother.

“I expect you to think clearly. You are a prince, Oberyn, and currently you are not acting like one.”

Oberyn clenched his jaw, looking away from his brother. When he spoke, his voice was rough, like the words themselves pained him. “I cannot just sit here, Doran. I do not mean I do not want to, I mean I cannot. Every fiber of my being is driving me to look for her. For my soulmate.”

Doran softened at that. He sighed, reaching out to grip his brothers shoulders. “We will find her, brother mine. But you need to calm yourself. Flying off in a rage like this will not help her.” Oberyn nodded tightly, still refusing to look at his brother.

It’s late, when Oberyn makes it to bed that night. The entire palace had been scavenged top to bottom, a large quantity of it by Oberyn himself, but there’s still no sign.

Ellaria is in his room when Doran finally convinces him to get some sleep. She’s awake, sitting on the edge of his bed, and when she lifts her head Oberyn feels his heart break a little at the sight of her. Her eyes are red, and she can barely hold her head up from the exhaustion he feels dragging at his own bones as well. He knew Ellaria had been searching for most of the day, but they rarely crossed paths in his single-minded pursuit of their lost soulmate.

“Any news?” Her voice shakes, and he wishes he could give her something good.

Instead he shakes his head, swallowing hard. “No. No one has seen her.”

He steps forward, kneeling in front of her, grasping her hands in his as her head lowers again.

“We will find her, my soul. I swear. We will find her, and whoever took her will pay.”

You’re not sure how long it’s been since Rylan left, but a maid came in a few hours later and took the tray of untouched food away. You don’t want to take the chance that he’s put anything in the food, despite the pit growing in your stomach from hunger. For a moment, you consider overpowering the maid when she turns away with the tray, but she looks nervous and scared and won’t hardly look at you. You refuse to hurt someone innocent, not even to get yourself out of this situation.

When Rylan comes back, it’s dark outside behind him. He’s carrying a tray again, which he sets on the bed this time before sitting next to it. You try not to, but as he sits you shrink away, your body rebelling at just the thought of being near him.

“You need to eat, my dear. I know you are upset right now, I do understand, but starving yourself will fix nothing.” He looks at you with pleading eyes, and it’s almost enough to make you feel bad, until you remember what he did to you.

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment before something falters in his gaze, and he lets out a sigh. “I know things are difficult right now, and you think I am being unfair. But trust me, my dear. You will be much happier here, with me, than you ever would have been being a third wheel to the prince and his whore.”

You do managed to keep your expression neutral at his words, despite the anger building inside you at the way he talks about Oberyn and Ellaria. There’s an instinctual rage deep in your heart, listening to this man talk like he knows what’s best for you, like what’s best for you isn’t being with your soulmates. It’s hard to ignore, but you keep your expression neutral, worried that if you upset him you’ll lose the weird kindness he’s been treating you with.

You do not, however, manage to keep yourself from jerking away when he puts a hand on your arm. He looks surprised, and then hurt, his hand still hovering where your arm had been moments before. For a moment, as emotions flicker across his face, you’re worried you managed to upset him after all, and you’ll get the angry, selfish lord that you knew him as before.

Instead, he smiles, the expression wavering slightly, and stands. “You need time. My cousin’s influence over you has to fade on its own. I will wait, my dear, until you understand the favor I am doing you.”

Doran bursts into his brother's room very early the next morning. Early enough that it’s still mostly dark out, and Oberyn and Ellaria sit up in bed with a start, a knife in Oberyn’s hand instantly.

“I apologize for the early hour, brother, but there is news you need to hear.”

Moments later he is in Doran’s office, staring down a scared woman that looks like she’s trying to blend into the fabric of the chair in front of his brother's desk. Ellaria stands at his side, hand gripped tightly in his own, as the woman speaks.

“I-I work at Lord Rylan’s manor. He was out very late, the night of the prince’s celebration, and when he came back he had a woman with him. I did not know who she was, and she was unconscious, but I did not say anything. I could not risk my job, I-” She pauses, shrinking away from Oberyn’s thunderous expression. Ellaria nudges him, glaring up at him, before turning to give the woman an encouraging look.

“I did not see where he took her, but yesterday afternoon, the housekeeper told me to go fetch a tray from one of the outbuildings. The woman was in there, and she looked scared. I still did not know who she was, or what I could do to help her, but then last night we got word of your missing woman, and I realized it must be her. I do not…trust his intentions with her, my prince, he has been talking all day yesterday to anyone who will listen about how we will have a new lady soon, he just needs to convince her. I was not able to get away until very late last night, not without someone noticing, and I came here immediately.” The words all come out in a rush, and when she finishes speaking Doran sighs.

“It was brave of you to come, my dear. I will have someone show you to a room you can stay in, here in the palace, until this situation is dealt with.”

The silence in the room hangs heavy until the woman is gone, and Doran finally looks at his brother. Oberyn’s gaze is on Ellaria, and for a moment Doran feels like an intruder with the way they seem to communicate without words.

Finally, Oberyn’s shoulders drop, and Ellaria lets out a breath, apparently the winner in whatever silent argument they were having. Oberyn looks at his brother, voice shaking. “We cannot leave her there, brother.”

“No, we cannot. I already suspected Rylan had a hand in your soulmate’s disappearance, but without proof I could not act. This is the proof we needed.” He stands, his expression grim. “You will have to wait, just a bit, until I have the men to go with you, but I will not stand in your way Oberyn.”

You're not sure how much time passes. There's no window in this little building, and you're almost positive food isn't being brought on any real schedule. After Rylan leaves, you sleep for a while, and when you wake there's another tray sitting on the vanity. It concerns you a little, that someone must have been in here while you were asleep without you noticing. It's enough to make you sit up in the corner of the bed, back pressed resolutely against the wall, determined not to sleep anymore.

You also still don't trust the food. Rylan seems nice, for now, but you still wouldn't put it past him to drug the food somehow. You don't know this world well enough yet to know what kinds of drugs are possible here, and what they might do to your mind or body if consumed. It's safer, for now, not to eat or drink any of the food or water brought to you.

After a while, you think a few hours, the door opens and Rylan enters again. This time, when he sees the still-untouched tray of food, you see a flicker of the rage in his eyes that you'd been expecting since you first woke in this tiny room. It's gone a moment later, however, and that pleading sadness is back on his face by the time he looks at you.

"I do not understand how my cousin sank his claws into you so deep in such a short time, my dear. Is the thought of being with me truly so repulsive that you would rather starve?" You hate the tone he's using, like you're a child that needs to be reasoned with, and before you can stop yourself you're replying.

"You kidnapped me. You stole me out of my bed in the middle of the night and locked me in here, and you expect me to be happy?"

Rylan flinches. It'd be satisfying if you weren't mentally berating yourself for provoking him. There's no telling when his mood might finally shift, and you don't want to find out what the Lord Rylan you knew before will do with no one around to stop him.

As you brace yourself, Rylan looks at you for a moment, lips pursed. Finally he sighs, deflating slightly, and his voice has an edge to it now that wasn't there before. "You still do not understand. I am doing what is best for you, my dear. My cousin gets everything he wants, women, money, power, but he cannot have you. My methods were rough, I will admit, but you will see." He crosses to the vanity, looking thoughtfully down at the uneaten food. "You know, my dear, if you do not choose to eat soon I will have to force the matter. I do not want to upset you further, but if you give me no choice..."

A spike of fear shoots through you at this glimpse of the old Rylan, and without thinking you press yourself back against the wall behind you. Your eyes dart to the door, mind frantically working. You don't think you've seen him lock it the few times he's come in. If he comes at you, you might be able to get to the door. You don't know where you are, or what might be waiting for you outside, but anything is better than being at his mercy. You're sure of that.

Before you need to worry about any of that, however, the door opens. Rylan turns away from the food, annoyance flashing on his face in the few seconds you can see it and filling his voice. "What."

There's a scared looking young man peeking through a crack in the door. He's only opened it enough to wedge his head and shoulders through, and the look on his face suggests he'd rather be baiting rabid dogs than delivering whatever news he has. "M-my lord, the prince is here."

Rylan goes perfectly still as your heart immediately soars. You had hoped Oberyn would come, but you couldn't be sure he would even be able to find you. It hits you, faintly, that just a few days ago you might not have been so certain the prince would come for you, but after the discussion with him and Ellaria the night of the party, there wasn't a doubt in your mind that they would both move mountains to find you.

For a second, you almost feel sorry for Rylan when you look at him. He's spent his life being overshadowed by his royal cousin, that part you have no doubt is true despite his delusions around everything else, and now Oberyn is here to take you away. Again, in his head most likely. You'd feel sorry for anyone, really, standing between Oberyn and what he wants. That sliver of pity, however, promptly shrivels up when seconds later you see Rylan straighten and sneer at the young man. "The prince. My cousin finally deigns to visit me, then. He's smarter than I gave him credit for, if he worked out I was the one to take her this quickly."

He turns to you, and you feel proper fear this time at the expression on his face. "Worry not, my dear. I will not allow him to take you from me."

Rylan was gone for less than a minute before you moved.

You needed to get out. You were over the moon that Oberyn was here, but there was no guarantee he'd be able to find you, and you couldn't just wait and hope. All you had to do was get out of this room and find Oberyn. It was a much more manageable list than before, especially since you still had no idea what was waiting outside that door.

It was easier than you thought to get the door unlocked. Well, unlocked wasn't really the right word.

The benefit to your kidnapper trying to make you as comfortable as possible and deluding himself into believing he could make you want to stay was that he hadn't put any thought into how useful the things in your room could be in an escape. For instance; heavy books make great tools to knock handles off of doors.

It took a few tries, and with every loud thump your anxiety ratcheted up a notch, but with one last swing, the handle finally clattered to the floor. You dropped the book, sliding a finger into the hole left in the door to slowly pull it open. When there was no immediate sign you'd been spotted you peeked out from around the edge of the door, finally taking in the sights outside your prison.

You knew Dorne was a diverse country, but most of what you had seen at this point pretty closely resembled a desert. You'd never ventured far from the seaside castle, however, so it came as a bit of a shock when you realized the area surrounding your prison was a riot of green. It looked like you were in the middle of a rainforest with the amount of dense vegetation surrounding the clearing you were in. There was a rather large building that you only just now realized one side of your room was connected to, and after your senses adjusted you realized you could hear the sounds of animals coming from it. Rylan must have outfitted some kind of storage shed attached to a barn to hold you.

That right there spoke volumes to how he regarded you.

You took a cautious step out of the building, looking around. There didn't seem to be anyone in the area, and for a moment a paranoid part of your brain wondered if this was a test to see how you would react to an opportunity to escape. You physically shook your head to dislodge that thought, determined not to let fear guide your actions. You needed out of here, and sitting in your pretty prison too scared to move wasn't going to get you anywhere.

Slowly, placing your feet carefully, you crept forward until you reached the edge of the barn. You weren't letting fear guide you, but that didn't mean you shouldn't be cautious. When you peeked around the edge of the building, a wall of the same dense vegetation you'd seen all around you met you just a few feet away. There was a path leading through the foliage, and you could just barely see the same kind of stone that was used for the palace at Sunspear peeking through the bright green vegetation. A quick scan showed that there wasn't anyone in the area, so you crept forward along the path, praying to any gods that might be listening no one caught you.

As you came towards the end of the path the building came into view. The clearing it sat in was large, and the building itself was absolutely massive. Not as massive as the palace, but still, obviously what would be considered a home fit for a lord. It was built in the same design as the palace you'd spent so much time in at Sunspear, with the same sun-bleached tan walls and open window designs. Just the sight of it made your heart squeeze in homesickness, and you realized in that moment how deeply you'd come to regard the palace as your home. You'd only been in this world for a matter of weeks, and yet you already felt like you belonged here more than you ever had anywhere else.

You followed the edge of the house towards what you hoped was the front, slowing your steps as you got closer and realized you could hear voices. You instantly recognized Oberyn’s voice, hearing the tension in his otherwise cool tone as he responded to something Rylan said. You crept forward, peeking around the corner of the house.

Oberyn was standing at the front of the house, several men dressed in his house’s colors standing behind him. Rylan stood in front of him, his own men behind him, arms crossed as he obviously tried to make himself look more visually intimidating in front of Oberyn’s casual confidence. You could see the tension in Oberyn’s shoulders, however, and you knew how tight of a grip he must be keeping on his temper as he faced down his cousin. Ellaria stood several feet behind Oberyn’s group, two men standing on either side of her, a mixture of anger and anxiety written on her face.

You’d meant to stay back far enough that hopefully no one would see you, unsure what situation you were walking into, but Ellaria’s eyes met yours almost instantly, like she was drawn to you. You saw her mouth open, to far away to hear anything, but she must have gasped with the way Oberyn instantly turned to look at her. He turned back, following her gaze, and his own eyes went wide when he spotted you.

You took a step forward, forgetting for a moment the situation and where you were, and were instantly ripped back into reality at the sound of swords being drawn. Instantly, there were five different swords pointed at Oberyn, close enough that his own guards would be able to do little to protect their prince. Rylan’s men had stepped forward as Oberyn had spotted you, the lord spotting you at the same time as his cousin thanks to Ellaria’s reaction.

Rylan closed the few feet over to you, one hand closing roughly around your arm to drag you out from around the side of the building. “I should have known you would come running at the chance to see your prince again.” He spat out the word like it disgusted him, coming to a stop a few feet behind the men that currently had swords pointed at one of your soulmates.

You’d never seen Oberyn scared, before, not even when Ellaria was in labor. You’d seen him ruffled, perhaps worried, but never scared. You felt fear spread through your own body like an icy river at the pure terror in his eyes now, though, as he watched his cousin drag you forward. Your eyes darted back to Ellaria, fighting back panic at the fear on her face as well.

Oberyn held up one hand, slowly, eyes darting quickly to one of the swords pressed close to him before focusing back on his cousin. “Rylan, please, think this through. Doran already knows you took her, he sent me. What do you think is going to happen here?”

Rylan sneered at his cousin. “You think you’ve won again. You think I will cave, let the girl go running back to you and your whore because, what? Because of fear of you? Of your brother? If you have not noticed, cousin, you are the one with swords to your throat, and your dear brother is all the way in Sunspear. I could slaughter you and your whore and be halfway across the continent by the time Doran manages to mobilize his men to come after me.”

You took an involuntary step towards Oberyn and Ellaria at the threat against them, only to be jerked back by Rylan’s grip on your arm. He looked down at you then, rage twisting his face into a grimacing sneer.

Rylan quickly yanked a knife out of the sheath at his side with his free hand, bringing it up to drag under your chin, forcing your head up towards him to avoid being cut. “Then again, that would leave me with a woman forever pining for someone else. I could break her, I suppose, loving me would be a bonus, not a necessity. But it would get tiring. And it would be oh so satisfying to kill her in front of you.”

He looked back up, knife still pressed to your throat, a malicious grin spreading across his face. “Suddenly, cousin, I am the one holding all of the cards for once.”

You met Oberyn’s eyes again, reading the terror written there, and you could practically see his mind racing as he tried to find a way out of this situation for all of you. “Rylan, cousin, don’t do this. Would you really rather live in exile, or die, than see her with us?”

Rylan scoffed, and you winced as his hand jerked slightly and dug the knife further into your skin.

"I would rather see us all die, cousin, than see you win again."

All of the fear flowing through your body like icy spears suddenly went hot, like a switch being flipped, morphing into rage and indignation.

How dare he?

How dare he try and steal you as though you were a toy to be taken from his cousin? How dare he tell his men to point swords at your soulmate? How dare he use your life to threaten them? How dare he?

You turned to him carefully, forcing yourself to look away from where Oberyn stood with swords to his neck and Ellaria stood in helpless terror behind him, ignoring the way the movement made the knife slide against your skin.

"Look at me."

The force in your voice, more power than you'd commanded before, compelled him to look down at you, a sneer still plastered on his face. The moment he met your gaze, however, his face went slack.

“I see you, Lord Rylan. I see your blackened, rotted soul. You want to be a big, scary man, but you aren’t. You’re a scared, lonely little boy, lashing out because he could never make any friends or get a girl to give him a spare glance. You thought it was because your cousin distracted them with his title and his riches, but that wasn’t it, was it?” You sneered right back at him, channeling all of your hate and anger into your voice. “It was you, Rylan. They all saw you, who you really were, and wanted nothing to do with you. You would have been alone with or without your cousin there. You always were, and still are, worthless and repulsive. I never would have wanted you regardless of if I had met my soulmates, because I always saw what you are. A jealous, possessive, mean little man that thinks he can take what he wants and blames others for his problems.”

The slack look on Rylan’s face slowly morphed as you spoke, horror spreading across his face as he stood there, frozen. He shook his head, stammering, “What…what are you doing?”

You reached up, wrapping one hand around the wrist of the hand holding the knife to your neck, easily pulling it away from you. “But I have a present for you, Lord Rylan. A gift. You wanted my magic so badly, so here. Have a taste.” You watched as his eyes clouded over, and held tightly as he tried to jerk his arm out of your grasp. For a moment he stood there, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, and then he screamed.

You let go, letting him stumble backwards until he tripped over his own feet, landing hard on the ground. He writhed where he fell, simultaneously reaching out to ward off something only he could see away and also clawing at his own face, his screams filling the air around you. You watched, a feeling of satisfaction and pride spreading through you.

A hand on your arm broke your concentration and you turned, finding Oberyn and Ellaria standing at your side. You glanced over their shoulders, seeing Oberyn’s men holding swords to Rylan’s men, his side apparently distracted enough by their lord falling into a fit to be overtaken by Oberyn’s men.

You realized then that you were clutching your necklace tightly in the hand that hadn’t been holding Rylan’s wrist, and when you managed to uncurl your fingers from the death grip you’d had on the pendant, the sight that met you somehow didn’t surprise you at all.

The brilliant blue had leeched out, leaving what looked like a hollow, plain glass pendant hanging around your neck.

You looked back up, eyes suddenly filling with tears as the adrenaline from the last few minutes bled out of your body. Instantly you were engulfed in your soulmate’s arms, pressed between them, and you finally relaxed.

“We have you, my sunflower, you are safe.” Ellaria’s muffled voice washed over you, soothing the lingering terror you felt. Oberyn pressed a kiss to the top of your head, whispering a promise against your hair. “No one will take you from us ever again, my soul. Never.”

We made it guys. Almost two years and 12 chapters later and we made it, finally. I am genuinely so sorry for how long it took for me to finish this fix, it ended up being beefier and so much more work than I was expecting, but I got there in the end. There's going to be an epilogue eventually, but I don't know when that will happen.

For now, thank you guys for sticking with me, welcome to the people just showing up, and I hope you enjoyed the ride ❤

(And now that we're done, if any of you want to send me questions, feel free!)

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#oberyn martell #ellaria sand #oberyn martell x reader #ellaria sand x reader #oberyn martell x reader x ellaria sand #eswf #even stars will fall

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grymmnox · 2 years

Text

weekly fic rec #3

weee. format change on this one, to try and make it a tad easier to digest. or something. it’ll also be easier to type. i’ll try and sort them by fandom + type of fic or wordcount.

& = platonic, / = romantic, just like ao3.

Oneshots

I Want to Build You a Protest by Some_Dead_Guy - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 2.5k | yosano & dazai, some ranpo & dazai

summary:

Dazai shifts in his seat for the tenth time in five minutes, trying to find a position that doesn’t irritate his injuries. It’s not exactly working out.

Or, Yosano has to force Dazai into her office because he won’t take care of himself.

The Coat in the Closet; SwimminNoodles - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 7.4k words | dazai/chuuya | READ TAGS

summary:

The President cleared his throat. “Good morning, everyone. Yosano is starting a project that will be sponsored by the Agency. Please support her in whatever ways you can.”

The announcement seemed to grab the attention of everyone in the room, even Ranpo, who put down the chocolate crêpe he was enjoying. The detectives around him looked expectantly at Yosano while Dazai looked just over her right shoulder. She passed a stack of paper to Kenji, who took one and passed it along.

“It’s an initiative to spread awareness for sexual assault and harassment in Yokohama,” Yosano announced. The room somehow grew quieter than it already was. Yosano’s face was steeled, it showed no weakness, only confidence and conviction. Dazai both admired and envied her.

revise these lines; Oxalisalis - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 5.4k words | dazai & atsushi, dazai & chuuya, dazai & oda | BEAST!au fix-it

summary:

“You never did tell me why you’re doing all this.” Chuuya decides to change the topic. “You look like you’re having a shit time. Why force yourself?”

Dazai hums, resting his head on his knees. “Currently, I’m not allowed to die. So I suppose I’m trying to earn my right to live.”

A scoff, unamused but not derisive either. “The hell is that? You’re here right now, aren’t you?” When he receives no response, he sighs. “You know, I don’t get you at all. You toy with friends and foe alike, always lording over everyone, but it’s not like you’ve ever looked at anything. It’s like you’re far off in your own world. I can’t tell what’s going on in your head half the time.”

“Maybe if your brain weren’t being consumed by your hat, you would,” Dazai replies automatically, earning an indignant shout from Chuuya.

For Dazai, living might be far more terrifying than dying, but there are people who will catch him when he falls.

***

A BEAST ending rewrite in which Atsushi makes it in time, Dazai says the right things for once, and things aren’t as broken as they seemed.

grim’s notes: part of a series! the series isn’t complete, but it’s definitely enjoyable. i highly suggest giving it a read if you wish BEAST had a happier (or at least less soul-wrenching) ending.

Emergency Contacts; archerwrites - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 3.4k words | married!dazai/chuuya

summary:

“Your paperwork is piling up and I don’t have time to deal with this today. Thanks to your tardiness, I’ve had to revise my schedule six times.”

Dazai gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in characteristic fashion. “Kunikida, that’s terrible! Why didn’t you tell me sooner? If I’d known you’d go through all that trouble for my sake, I would have been late by six hours instead!”

Dazai Osamu arrives to work exceptionally tired, and a slip of the tongue ends up revealing why. Chaos ensues.

There’s beauty in the breakdown; NeonCrayons - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 3.2k words | dazai/chuuya, dazai & kouyou, dazai & kenji, dazai & oda

summary:

The simple choice to skip one hair appointment alters Dazai's life in ways he never truly expected it to.

Or, that long haired dazai fic that Discord made me write.

high time; finalizer - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 5.5k words | married!dazai/chuuya

summary:

In which everyone knows Dazai and Chuuya are partners.

That is, everyone except Atsushi.

Nothing but your spine; osamuchuu - bungo stray dogs

mature | 6.2k words | dazai/chuuya | READ TAGS

summary:

“Oi, Dazai. We’re here.” Chuuya reached into the car to shake Dazai’s shoulders a bit, rearranging his coat to lay over the man’s back. Dazai swayed and blinked up at him. Whatever painkillers he’d been given had stolen the sharpness from his face. Dazai looked fifteen again, wide-eyed and vulnerable.

And then he smiled. He smiled and Chuuya’s heart stuttered because it was so fucking real, so small and different from all the painted faces he wore now.

This was dangerous.

grim’s notes: part of a series! alas, i have yet to finish said series; but i’m sure it’s just as well-written as the first part.

A Dash of Murder, Please; Temperature_Ray - bungo stray dogs + my hero academia

not rated | 3.2k words | dazai/chuuya or dazai & chuuya; up to interpretation

summary:

Aizawa’s not a man to be taken by surprise. Yet it doesn’t stop him from twitching when, as he stands in from of a barista and orders his usual expresso, a voice sounds behind him.

“Oi, that fucking bastard. Always setting me up.”

Aizawa walks into a cafe and out of all the things, he doesn't expect an orange headed teenager to turn his morning upside down and sure as hell doesn't account for the so called "Mackerel" on the phone with him. Or the fact that they're nothing like any kids he's met, with that dark glint in the ginger's eyes and how "Mackerel" discusses suicide like the weather.

Alike (Yet Not At All); Temperature_Ray - bungo stray dogs + my hero academia

not rated | 2k words | midoriya & atsushi summary:

“That’s so cool! You can fight?”

“Yeah, not well though. But at least I’m not always angry like stupid Akutagawa.” For the first time, a pout appears on Atsushi’s face and Izuku stifles a laugh. “Like he’s better than me. Always scowling and moping, you’d think he never smiled in his life.”

Well, Izuku thinks, that sounds oddly similar to a certain someone.

Namely, Kacchan.

Atsushi and Izuku have a chat.

Complete Fics

An Inhuman in human skin; BlowingYourMind - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 2/2 chapters | 12.8k words | dazai/chuuya | READ TAGS

summary:

Then he was burning, his blood boiling and pouring out of his skin, or at least, that had been how it felt. Chuuya’s touches were soft, a stark comparison to those hands that usually crushed men's skulls. He had asked if he could take off Dazai’s shirt, though Dazai’s mind was too muddled to actually translate the question so he nodded along. Anything to rid him of this horrible fever running through his body.

Six times Dazai couldn't take care of himself and left the job to those closest to him.

Learning experiences; BlowingYourMind - bungo stray dogs

general audiences | 3/3 chapters | 13.7k words | dazai/chuuya

summary:

Chuuya can't read.

Dazai can't ride a bike.

They both can't swim for one reason or another.

All learning experiences they missed out on in their early childhood, though it seemed that they would need to make up for lost time.

Dazai teaches Chuuya how to read, Chuuya teaches Dazai how to ride a bike, and they both take swim lessons.

bad enough for you; Maristella - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 6/6 chapters | 28.5k words | dazai/chuuya | READ TAGS

summary:

There are two reasons why Chuuya tolerates Dazai: 1.) The god inside Chuuya hates him; 2.) Chuuya definitely hates the god more than the stinking demon mackerel.

Or, alternatively, that one time Dazai and Chuuya swaps abilities, and Arahabaki was never the same.

“Arahabaki says you’re nothing but trouble.” “…and do you believe him?” “I think he’s right.” "..." “He also said I should stay away from you." “…and what did you say?” “I told him he also got that right, but being right isn't enough to make him my boss.”

Incomplete Fics

altschmerz; kit_scrolls - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 4/? chapters | 7.6k words | dazai & armed detective agency, dazai & kunikida, dazai & atsushi

summary:

A client of the Agency receives a threat from the "Demon Prodigy". Intrigued, Kunikida, Atsushi, and Dazai are assigned to investigate, only for it to spiral into much more than a simple case closed.

the identity reveal that 7 people asked for but we all deserve

Two of a Kind; Bibliophile109 - bungo stray dogs + my hero academia

teen and up | 21/? chapters | 34k words | aizawa & dazai | READ TAGS

summary:

“Don’t mind Shuji,” Shouta’s mother said once, when she spotted him staring at his cousin. “He’s never been normal, you know.” Aizawa Shouta has no interest in his mother’s side of the family. Dazai Osamu tracks him down anyway.

#[.grims recs]#[.grims weekly recs]#bsd fic recs #mha fic recs #bungo stray dogs #my hero academia #reclist #fic recs #bnha fic recs #boku no hero academia #bungou stray dogs

8 notes · View notes

taekookfests · 1 year

Text

medic fest - fic reveals season 1

my love has no overdose by peekab00 [link] 19.4k Words | Completed | Explicit

Jeon Jeongguk and his daughter undergo a witness protection program.

Dr. Kim Taehyung, Taehyung’s ex, shows up and joins them one day.

brain & spine by ailuridae [link] 19.1k Words | Completed | Mature

Taehyung has enough to do being a full-time Neurology resident, putting up with Yoongi and Hoseok’s extremely married behaviour, trying to deal with Jimin’s call schedule and make it through this year without killing anyone. The last thing he needs is a crush on an intern. An intern, for god’s sake. But it’s not his fault that the damn Olympic athlete Ortho intern, Jeon Jungkook, is the most stupidly hot person he’s ever seen in real life. And worse: Jungkook keeps seeking him out , too, in all dark and vulnerable places, too.

hennessy nights, gluten days by tanniesmorningdew [link] 17.1k Words | Completed | Mature

If someone had told Taehyung that his past would find him, not only once but twice he would have driven him crazy. He was just getting around that fact that he had seen Hoseok after 10 years, who now had a wife and a baby, and now this……

“Jungkook,” he said, “I mean….”

“Fuck! You actually became a doctor!” Jungkook said looking at Taehyung like he was seeing him for the first time.

Taehyung felt his eyes burning, like he was that kid in high school being flustered by the captain of the basketball team. He hated that feeling, he was a doctor. Neurosurgeon at that, and 35 damn it!

“According to the tests that we have done, you cannot eat gluten” he continued ignoring the buzz in his ears feeling blood rush through his ears. This was just patient, another case that he had to handle and move on.

My Missing Piece by Nilima [link] 11.4k Words | Completed | Mature

All of this felt very new to Jungkook. People were generally scared of him. His own clan members didn’t dare to ever cross him, let alone mundane civilians. However, it would be a lie if he said he didn’t like it. The sudden change in the way Taehyung saw him, made him feel more… human.

I (don’t) like you by wuthie1649 [link] 11.5k Words | Completed | Mature

Jeon Jeongguk is excited to start a new career path as a paediatric nurse in Tokyo General Hospital’s cardiology department. It's a new beginning that he knows would be good for him. Despite him being far from home, he is excited for this seemingly new adventure.

But then he meets the Cardio Department’s head doctor aka his new boss, and he wishes he never left Busan.

“So, you think I’m annoying, huh, Jeon-san?” the irritating yet hot as fuck doctor quips as Jeongguk only tries to do his job. “But then again – you also think I’m handsome. What do we make of that then, I wonder?”

You Make Me Feel Alive Again by peachyvantete [link] 6.2k Words | Completed | Mature

Taehyung gets into a car accident with his parents as a kid that leaves him paralyzed from the waist down. When he heals, he gives up trying to walk again until he meets Jungkook, who is his new nurse, who he thinks hates him but Jungkook wants to help his new friend (and crush) after several months finds the confidence and courage to walk again.

Wonderwall by itaekookieu [link] 5.5k Words | Completed | Mature

10 years later, the eyes he fell in love with still shines just like Jungkook remembers.

Slice of Life: A Happily Ever After by vuduthebitch [link] 3k Words | Completed | General Audiences

Taehyung has learned to adapt and accept his new body after an accident left him in a wheelchair. The only thing he hasn’t accepted is that someone could fall in love with him as he is. Until Seokjin sets him up on a blind date with a cute nurse.

(a huge thanks to @/buggs030 for helping me compile these fics!)

#status: fic reveals #fest: medic

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caramellohigh · 2 years

Text

juyeon x reader

genre: (eventual) smut, fluff, (might have?) angst, university!au, fwb 👀

warning/s: dacryphilia, dirty talk, edging, multiple orgasm, oral (f), fingering, panty stuffing (....yep 😬), unprotected sex, a widdle bit of teasing, some tension and a whisper of subspace so perhaps dom!juyeon too? oh, god idk anymore my brain’s fried

word count: 5.5k (🥴)

synopsis: if there is one thing Juyeon doesn’t like about himself, it’s that he’s a nice guy. and it’s… strange.

because why would he feel that way when it’s not something to dislike? what about it has Juyeon perpetually annoyed just hearing it in the same sentence as his name?

perhaps it’s because Juyeon doesn’t want to be just a nice guy. perhaps it’s because… he isn’t.

a/n: i’m back beautiful bitches <3 nah, i’m kidding! about the bitches part, that is hahaha i’d like to apologize for two things before you head on over to read, 1.) we all know it’s been a minute since i wrote anything so this chapter might actually suck… and 2.) this one’s intense. idk how else to put it. so just brace yourself, okay? i barely made it myself… best of luck, babes and happy reading <333

Chapter 5 | Don’t Hesitate [M]

You and Juyeon still talk. You greet each other in class, acknowledge each other’s presence in the halls with little nods, you smile at each other and even hang out sometimes. You’re both fine. You should be fine... except you’re not.

To everybody else except Kevin, you two seem pretty normal. But in truth, there’s an awkward air around you these days, a type of suffocating tension that’s far from desirable yet the two of you always choose to ignore it. You feel bad for Kevin sometimes, getting stuck in whatever’s happening between you and Juyeon.

It pisses you off just as much as it boggles your mind. Because why do you feel this way in the first place? You’ve never cared about this before. You’ve never given any of your past hookups a second thought but why is this happening? Why is this different?

Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you stop walking a couple of feet away from the library. You sometimes forget you’re banned from this place and you end up mindlessly barging in. The moment any of the library volunteers or even the librarian herself sees you, not only are you escorted out but they extend your banned status too.

You groan, another one of your rushed assignments waiting to be finished in your laptop like a ticking time bomb. You’re aware that most, if not all, of your professors hate you but you didn’t think they’d give you an even harder time assigning you something that’s this specific, the only reference material you need being from the library that everyone and their mother knows you’re banned from going to.

You don’t notice at all that you’ve been scowling at the library entrance until someone points it out, the voice so chillingly familiar. You whip around and you’re greeted with Juyeon’s soft smile, “What’s the matter, princess?”

The nickname makes butterflies erupt in your stomach but you grit your teeth, ignoring the fluttering and pulling it together enough to reply without stumbling over your words, “Just need some references in the library for Professor Boo’s assignment… but obviously I can’t get it because the librarian hates my guts and I’m still banned so…”

Juyeon chuckles at you fondly, thumb almost naturally reaching out to smoothen the crease between your brows. “Don’t worry. I can get it for you.” And before you can even respond, he walks straight into the library. Without much of a choice, you inwardly sigh and step over to the side to wait for him.

A few minutes later, he walks out carrying a thick, worn out looking textbook. You shoot him a grateful smile, “Thanks, Juyeon. I’ll be quick so you can return it ASAP, I promise.” You reach out for the book but Juyeon quickly shakes his head, “It’s heavy. I’ll carry it.”

“O-Oh, Uhh… okay.” Awkwardly, you both walk away from the library. There’s nothing but silence between you and you don’t even know where you’re headed, letting your feet take you to who knows where. You nibble your bottom lip, contemplating about striking up a conversation or not. You just don’t want to force anything and make it even more awkward than it already is.

The deafening silence is making you feel all sorts of uncomfortable and it doesn’t help that you can feel him stealing glances your way, your hands constantly brushing against each other. You train your face, tucking your hair behind your ear and holding the straps of your bag instead so your hands aren’t just dangling at either side of you.

“So, are you going to Oasis?” You almost let out a big sigh of relief when Juyeon finally breaks the silence. “Yeah! I-- Wait…” Your brows furrow and you turn your head to look at him, “Aren’t you supposed to be working right now?” Juyeon’s eyes widen as if he’s just remembered something.

“Oh... I already quit actually.”

“Really? Why?”

“Kevin was right. I’m too loaded this semester. It was getting difficult for me to balance work and school at the same time.”

You simply nod, not knowing what to reply anymore. A few beats of silence pass before he decides to speak again, “I could still go with you though… If you want me to.” Juyeon turns to you too, a hand in his pocket and a small, charming smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You try your best not to trip over absolutely nothing. “Mmm, it’s alright,” you look away, “Maybe you have other things to do.”

Still turned to you, Juyeon hums in thought, “Well, the rest of my classes got canceled because of the emergency faculty meeting so I was actually going to go home but really, I don’t mind going with you. Or if you want you could…” He trails off, biting his lip and looking off to the side like he said something he wasn’t supposed to.

Without another word, he faces back to the front and continues walking as if he wasn’t just talking to you. The way he didn’t even attempt to continue what he was saying piqued your interest. “Hmm? What were you saying?” Juyeon glances at you and scratches the back of his head, “I was... going to invite you to my place? You might be more comfortable working there but…”

You nod slowly but the million thoughts running through your head goes a mile a minute. He presses his lips in a line, no longer expecting a reply from you which is why he’s taken aback when you look back at him and go, “Sure, why not?”

A million thoughts in your head and you decide not to listen to a single one. You’ve really done it this time. You’ve just set yourself up.

It felt like deja vu. Walking to his car brings you back to the time he took you home. He opened the door for you and shielded your head with his hand like he did the last time. He put your seat belt on for you again and you still think he smells nothing less of home. That split second of feeling his warmth, him being so close and within reach was enough to make your brain haywire.

And suddenly you’re questioning not only your decision but if you can even make it out of this car ride alive. It was quiet for the most part, the soft sound of the radio the only thing filling the air. Juyeon occasionally checked up on you and you’d smile, nodding your head. After the 5th time though, you can’t help but laugh.

“Juyeon, I’m perfectly fine and very much comfortable,” you finished with a giggle and he grinned at you sheepishly. Without thinking, he reached over to pat your hair and the air drastically shifted. You found yourselves staring at each other, his hand on your head coming down to cup your cheek. Your miniscule smile fades as your lips slightly part to suck in a breath.

Juyeon’s adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, unconsciously gulping when he let his eyes flicker over your features, fixating on your lips until his thumb moved to stroke the plump flesh. You felt your gaze begin to change and you saw the same thing happening on Juyeon’s end but then the light turned green.

The impatient honking from the car behind you snapped you both out of it and as reluctant as he was to let go, he did so anyway, bringing his focus back to the road. You inwardly took a deep breath, blinking away the darkness in your eyes.

For the rest of the ride, you busy yourself by looking out the window, watching the world whiz past. You become silent again and Juyeon doesn’t say anything anymore or even glance your way. The closer you get to his apartment though, the faster the anxiousness builds inside of you.

You have no idea why you’re suddenly getting nervous. You’re literally there to work on an assignment. It’s not like you’re going to do anything else but the twist in your gut is too prominent and annoying. It’s almost as if your body is telling you something but you just can’t put your finger on it.

“We’re here,” he finally speaks after being silent for so long. You look up at the huge building and before he even drives into the basement parking lot, you already know that his place is going to be far different from yours. You try picturing what it would look like in your head but you find out later that even your imagination doesn't even come close when he opens the door.

You can’t help but be awed, your curious eyes scanning the sleek and modern interior. His place is bigger than you expected. It’s cleaner than most, if not all, the male apartments you’ve been to and you’re practically in love with how homey it still feels despite the design and color scheme.

It smells like him too and for some reason, that brings you so much comfort. Much more than you’d like to admit. This is definitely more peaceful and comfortable than the cafe. You’re actually glad you agreed to come. “Thanks for inviting me over, Juyeon. You have such a lovely home.”

He smiles a grateful smile as he takes your jacket and puts it on the coat rack next to his. “Thanks and no problem at all. Where do you wanna work?” You follow Juyeon into his spacious living room, head still whipping here and there to check the place out. “Woah! Look at this view!”

You almost run towards the floor to ceiling windows and plant your hands on the glass like an excited child at an aquarium but thankfully, you caught yourself before you could. You timidly glance at Juyeon while he bursts into endeared chuckles.

He walks over to where you are and stands behind you, gently rubbing your arms up and down. “Focus, princess. You have an assignment to do, remember?” His lips brushing against the shell of your ear and his hot breath fanning the side of your face sends shivers down your spine. You feel heat pooling at the pit of your stomach and you can’t help but close your eyes. You gulp.

Patting your shoulders, he tells you to work on the counter instead so it’ll be easier for you, effectively snapping you out of the fantasy about to cloud your mind. “Make yourself feel at home! You can get anything you want from the fridge, okay? I’ll just take a quick shower.” His voice fades as he walks down a hall to what you assumed was his room.

And finally, you let go of the breath you were unconsciously holding. You purse your lips, mentally slapping yourself as you take your laptop out. You get down to business right away, cracking open the reference book Juyeon got you and reading like your life depended on it.

20 minutes later, you realized that this assignment isn’t something you can possibly cram. There’s at least 15 to 20 pages worth of information you have to shorten into a mere 2 paged paper, the tiny ass font and huge blocks of text making your brain hurt. You’ve already gone through 3 pages (back to back) and all you got was a measly paragraph.

You heave an exasperated sigh for the nth time just as Juyeon walks into the kitchen, fresh from his shower. And as if you aren’t already miserable, he just has to walk around top naked, his gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

Frustrated and so done with your fucking assignment, you don’t even hide the way you check him out, bottom lip caught between your teeth as your eyes rake over his body. He pushes his damp hair back and opens the fridge. The weather today is already quite hot but he just made it ten times worse. You’re burning up, ready to pounce at any given moment but you mentally fight yourself not to.

You breathe deeply through your nose, pathetically rubbing your thighs together and willing yourself to look away. But it’s too late. Juyeon has you right where he wants you and he only smirks at how he can practically feel your gaze even through the refrigerator door.

He shuts the freezer, the thud making you jump in your seat even if you’re not staring anymore. You risk looking up from your book and he quickly makes a show of licking ice cream off the wooden spoon that came with it, eyes drilling holes into yours.

“Hot today, huh?” he drawls, walking over to you and leaning against the counter. “Do you want some? There’s only a popsicle left though.” You almost immediately shake your head and politely decline his offer. Eating a popsicle in front of Juyeon? That’s one inappropriate mess just waiting to happen and you’d rather not put yourself in that situation.

When he nods and seemingly walks away, you thought by then that he would leave you alone and go about his day doing other things but instead, he sits in the stool next to you, in all of his shirtless glory, eating his ice cream so painfully slow. He has his seat turned to you and he’s just… staring at you while you work (or at least try to).

You shift slightly in your seat, feeling a little uncomfortable, stuck in the same page for god knows how long already. You drag your teeth across your bottom lip in a nervous gesture before finally moving on to the next page. “Don’t you… have anything to do, Juyeon?” you tentatively ask, glancing at him and he simply smiles with a small shake of his head.

He finishes off the rest of his ice cream and stands to throw away his trash. You take a deep breath when he walks away and you again think that this time, he really will leave you alone. But of course you’re wrong.

Because he comes right back and even stands close to you, peering down at the book you’re reading with his hand right next to yours on the counter. You only last five seconds before you’re looking up at him like a helpless puppy, “Y-Yeah? Can I help you with something?”

Suddenly, he spins your stool and crashes his lips against yours, slotting himself between your legs. Your dress rides up your thighs and you moan in surprise, the taste of strawberry on his lips and tongue making you feel dizzy.

He kisses you feverishly and you reciprocate it without a second thought. His big hands feel up the expanse of your exposed thighs and he pulls you forward, your already wet core pressed onto his growing bulge. He groans into the kiss.

“Already, princess?” He chuckles against your bruised lips, hand slipping inside your panties to knead your ass. Albeit embarrassed at how wet you already are for him, you peck his smirking lips and run your hands down his toned torso, firm chest and abs flexing under your fingertips.

You can’t help but latch your lips on his chest, leaving your own little hickies as he rubs himself against you and curses under his breath. Your hands hold his waist and travel up his back to feel the muscles there too. His body is fucking beautiful. You would kiss every fucking inch of him if you could, lick, taste and mark him all over.

You would worship his gorgeous body and you’d do it right now if he didn’t grab a fist full of your hair to pull you off of him. You look up at him with your pupils blown out, swollen lips parted. His gaze upon you only gets darker, more clouded with absolute lust and something else that you can’t seem to place.

Before you can even start swimming in the mystery of his orbs, he plants his lips on yours again, his hand loosening on your hair. He ends up cradling the back of your head and it takes a while before he deepens the kiss.

But when he does, you're reduced to absolute mush. You melt into him, moaning and whimpering against each other’s lips as you take your time feeling the other’s burning skin, hands busy roaming and touching. Juyeon breathes a little harsher when your lips stray from his and start littering kisses on his jaw and neck but he doesn’t lose his focus.

He wraps your legs around his waist, effortlessly carrying you to his plush couch. He lays you down gently, the exact opposite of how he assaults your neck and collar bones. Breathless mewls escape your parted lips and your eyes flutter to a close. Juyeon kisses his way to your shoulder, his teeth biting onto the thin strap of your dress as he slips it off. The light scraping of his teeth on bare shoulder makes you shiver.

“I thought…” he mumbles against your warm skin, “That I could behave today… but I literally have you in my apartment all to myself. I...” He kisses his way to the junction between your neck and shoulder, to your jaw and finally back to your awaiting lips.

“I tried to shower to get a hold of myself. But all I could think of was you… pressed against the wet tiles while I fuck your tight lil’ pussy from behind,” he murmurs in between tiny pecks and you all but whine. Your hands desperately tugging him closer. He chuckles against your lips, the deep rumbling sound going straight to your pussy.

“Would you be okay with that, princess?” You nod fervently, “I don’t care where you fuck me, Juyeon. It could be on this couch, the fucking bathroom, against your huge ass windows. I don’t fucking care! Just please, I-I...” You hold his face and buck your hips up against his, dying for some friction. And all he does is smirk deviously, pushing your hips down and firmly holding you in place.

You whine but he shuts you up with his lips, fumbling with the buttons on your dress until your impatient ass unbuttons the rest for him. Juyeon silently thanks the heavens that you decided not to wear a bra today, eyes drinking in your naked body, nothing but flimsy panties in his way.

He cups one of your breasts, lightly squeezing while he eagerly dives in to suck on the other. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your hands on your dress find their way to his hair, fingers tangling and tugging as your body arches into his mouth.

He flicks his tongue against the stiff bud and slightly drags his teeth over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth again. His hand on your other breast is gentle, only giving it a little bit of attention before snaking down your body, getting dangerously close to your soaked core.

But however good you’re feeling right now, the tiny voice in your head won’t leave you alone. You wanted this to happen. You’ve been secretly hoping you’d get a chance like this with Juyeon again but you know in your heart that this probably isn’t the best thing to do.

A turmoil builds within you and suddenly, his ministrations don’t feel as good as they should. “J-Juyeon?” you stutter out, gently lifting his head off of your chest. He hums, hazy eyes staring hungrily into yours, middle finger drawing slow circles on your clothed clit.

You try your best to focus and maintain the little bit of rationality you pulled out of yourself. You swallow hard, “Th-This… I don’t think we should--” He pauses for a millisecond and actually looks at you. “You want this too, right?”

“I do. It’s just…”

“That I’m a nice guy? You’re worried about what people will think of me if I get involved with you?”

Yes, but there’s so much more than that too. That’s what you wanted to say but you yourself had no idea what you even mean by that. What more is there?

“I don’t fucking care,” he lets out a hollow chuckle, lips kissing a trail from your jaw to the valley between your breasts. When you don’t say anything, he pauses again and looks up. “If you want me to stop, just tell me…”

You sigh deeply, one hand absentmindedly combing through his hair while the other rests on his face, thumb caressing the apple of his cheek. You stare at him for a long while, your eyes flickering over his features. Softly, you trace each one with your fingers, his eyebrows, his eyelids and lashes, his forehead, down the slope of his pointy nose to his red swollen lip.

You’re breathing slowly but your heart beats faster than a humming bird’s wings, pounding loud and clear right in your ears. When he faintly kisses the pads of your fingers, eyes boring into yours, you suddenly feel like you’ve lost. After fighting and fighting as hard as you possibly can, you’ve chosen to surrender.

You hold his face gently and bring him up to meet yours. He already looks dejected. You can tell he’s anxiously waiting for you to say something, anything and that makes you feel some type of way. Juyeon wants this as much as you do. You’re just going to have to face the consequences later.

Inching closer, you briefly peck his lips and then you whisper, “Don’t stop.” Juyeon’s lips twitch into a small smile and he leans his forehead against your own. “I’m going to ruin you, princess,” he whispers back, fingers back on your clothed clit. Your eyes flutter to a close and you bite your lip hard at the anticipation, muffling your mewls and whines.

But he doesn’t like that. He pulls away almost immediately, dark, lust filled eyes glaring at you. He doesn’t even bother with your underwear, stroking his middle finger between your panty clad folds, pushing in the wet, silky fabric a little deeper. You choke out a moan and throw your head back against the cushion. He smirks, “That’s more like it. Don’t try to be quiet, baby. I like hearing your filthy sounds.”

He slaps your clit and without warning, shoves two fingers inside of you along with your fucking panties. You cry out at the foreign sensation, giving Juyeon exactly what he wants. “Juyeon,” you gasp out, bucking your hips into his hand while he makes a mess of your already ruined underwear.

You don’t exactly know what to feel about having your panties up your pussy but you don’t exactly hate it. He chuckles darkly at the sound of your melodic whines and whimpers, licking at a hickey he just made before pulling away.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands as he makes quick work of taking your underwear off. Did he even take it off or did he rip it off? You don’t even know. Your mind’s way too muddled to be coherent right now. Most especially when he’s grinding his hard on against your feverish core.

“You? I- ah- just f-fuck me, Juyeon. Please!”

“With what?”

“H-Huh?” You blink up at him like he just made those two words up and he huffs out an endeared but also patronizing chuckle. “Just a little taste of cock and you’re already dumbing down? C’mon now, princess. Fuck you with what exactly? My tongue? My fingers? These?”

He dangles your now translucent underwear in front of your face and, still unable to fully focus, you just nod. You nod oh-so fervently at whatever he’s offering. He raises an eyebrow at you in question but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he makes you suck on his fingers while he slowly twists the tiny fabric in your sopping hole.

You shamelessly moan against his fingers, hand tightly holding onto his forearm for dear life. “Look at you,” he breathes, sitting back on his heels to watch you all spread out for him, pussy stuffed, chest heaving and lips wet from drool and spit. “You're a mess.” He plays with the excess fabric of your panties that he left out and bites down on his bottom lip.

His sharp, clouded eyes pierce through yours as he slowly dips down to where you needed him most, “I love it.” A smirk barely makes itself known before he’s sucking your clit in his mouth, two fingers thrusting in your tightness, sending your underwear further inside of you.

It overwhelms your sensitive body and you jolt, hands flying to grab something while you lose yourself in the pleasure. A hand finds purchase on the cushion below your head, the other somehow finding its way to weave through his still damp hair.

Your eyes close shut, your head falling back as you feel the coil in your stomach get tighter and tighter, your lewd noises getting higher and much louder. A vice grip on your thigh catches your attention though. Fluttering your eyes open, you look down at Juyeon so tastefully buried between your legs, feeling like you could cum just from the visual alone.

“Look at me, princess. Watch me ruin you,” he smirks against your swollen clit before he’s flicking his tongue at it, fingers snapping faster, curling and scissoring inside your tightening walls. “Fuck! Oh! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m gonna- I-I’m gonna–”

You try your very best to keep your eyes open, your voice thinning out to nothing as your mouth simply hangs open in a silent scream. You’re so fucking close you can feel it with your finger tips.

But then he stops.

He pulls away from your pussy, takes his fingers and your panties out of you, then stands up. Your tears spring from your eyes before you even feel them burning, rolling down your cheeks and your lips quiver. At any point in time you would’ve been pissed to have your orgasm so mercilessly taken away from you but now you’re just frustrated and sad.

Juyeon gently tutts and coos at you, scooping you up to carry you again. “There, there, my pretty. I will let you cum. As many times as you fucking want but, just not here. And definitely not just on my tongue.” You stop crying almost immediately when his words register in your brain, blinking away the tears as your eyes stare in a particular direction. And Juyeon knows exactly what you’re staring at without even looking at it himself.

“Oh, baby. I could fuck you against the windows any other time or maybe even later if you can still take it,” he winks at you and you lick your lips in interest, “But I have a little something for you in here.” He swings the door to his room open and you gulp, a weird mix of anxious excitement bubbling at the pit of your stomach.

The words, “Please, Juyeon,” have become your mantra for the past 40 minutes, your hands handcuffed to his bed frame the entire fucking time. The man edged you with toys, with his tongue and fingers again and again until you’re a crying whimpering mess, orgasm so intense you swear you were out for a couple minutes after it.

Juyeon was kind enough to allow you to recover but the moment you said you were okay, he was more than ready to give you more. With your hands still bound, he sinks his thick cock in your heat and has his way with you all over again.

His dark chuckle paired with the way he’s thrusting into you so deeply makes you forget how to formulate words. You already came but his unrelenting pace is coaxing another orgasm out of you and it’s coming much faster than you expected.

“I– I don’t th-think I– c–”

“Of course you can, sweetheart,” he grunts, pecking one of the many hickies on your chest before he leans away and cups your jaw with his large hand. “Your lil pussy’s only getting tighter around me. You’re almost there. You can cum for me one more time.”

You respond with a cross between a gasp and a moan, mind melting from how much pleasure you’re feeling. Your toes curl behind his back and you dig your nails into your palms. He’s right. You’re already close, so fucking close but you still somehow needed more.

Frustrated tears start to well up in your eyes as you moan and cry out, “More! Make m-me cum, Juyeon. Fuck me open, p-please! Ah!” Juyeon’s gaze on you only gets darker when he sees your tears rolling down your cheeks. The pure and almost pitiful desperation in your voice going straight to his cock.

Growling, he starts slamming into you a little faster as his grip on your jaw shifts to press down on the sides of your throat. “Y-Yes! Fuck…” you manage to say before air stops going into your lungs, your eyes screwing shut when he taps your sweet spot over and over again.

You can see white spots behind your lids and you haven’t even cum yet. “C’mon, baby,” he breathes in your ear, letting go of your throat to press his thumb on your abused clit, “Let it go. Cum. For. Me.” A cry of his name rips from your throat and your back arches off the mattress, balling your fists so tight your hands almost feel numb.

Juyeon reaches his own high not long after, sloppy but hard thrusts rocking your squirming body. He cums inside of you and fills you up so much it’s leaking out of your spent hole. The warm feeling prolongs your already intense orgasm and you gasp for air, body twitching from the overwhelming high.

“Fuck! Fuck, Juyeon. Oh my g-g--” Your head lolls pathetically to the side as he rides out both your orgasms, grinding his hips into yours and making sure he has his cum in the very depths of you. He’s panting, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, fringe sticking to his forehead when he finally slows down to a stop. You feel faint, body completely limp and your eyes are barely able to open.

You feel yourself slipping away again and if you could, if you have the tiniest bit of energy to, you’d laugh at yourself for blacking out on him twice. A tender whisper of your name keeps you conscious, the jiggle of the cuffs coming undone following right after. “Stay with me, princess. Are you okay?”

Juyeon’s voice sounds further away than it should. You feel… floaty like you’re in some weird trance, like you’re teetering between unconsciousness and consciousness but you are still aware of things. You nod your head belatedly and feel a dreamy smile tug at the corners of your lips. You can hear Juyeon chuckling at you, feel him prodding his nose against yours. “You sure? Open your eyes, baby. Hmm?”

You want to oblige but you can’t. Your eyelids are way too heavy and you’d rather succumb than fight it. “Sleep…” you mumble and Juyeon doesn’t push any further. He simply sighs in content, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face, peppering you with butterfly kisses before he rests his head on your chest, the steady beat of your heart lulling him to sleep.

“Shit! My assignment!” You wake up in a cold sweat and scramble to stand up on your wobbly legs. For a second, you’re confused why you’re fully clothed and smell of Juyeon’s body wash but you decide to question that after your little predicament.

“Oh, good. You’re up! I ordered us some food in case you’re hungry and I texted Kevin that you won’t be making it to the rest of you classes because–”

“Great! Thanks, Juyeon. I’ll eat when I’m done with this, okay?”

You speed walk past him and quickly plop your butt onto the stool you were sitting on earlier. Your laptop is right where you’d left it, seemingly untouched but instead of your very unfinished assignment staring back at you, you’re met with an email that confirms your professor has received your paper already. Your eyes grow wide and whip your head in Juyeon’s direction. “Did you…?”

He nods his head guiltily and scratches at his eyebrow. “Yeah… I didn’t have the heart to wake you up for it so I just finished it myself…” He walks over to you with a small pout and his hands tucked into the pocket of his sweats, “I’m sorry.”

You could only sigh. He looks incredibly soft with his messy hair, thick framed glasses perched on his nose and his big doe eyes looking genuinely sorry for what he did. You too, do not have the heart to be upset with him. It’s not like he did anything wrong anyway. Why does he have to be this guilty?

“Can you stop being so nice?” You cross your arms and fake a frown. “I can’t believe you did my homework for me.” Juyeon wraps his arms around you in a warm hug and kisses the top of your head. “I’m really sorry, princess,” he murmurs against your hair.

He pulls away just enough to kiss your forehead, then your nose and then you feel his lips on the shell of your ear. “If it makes you feel any better, I expect something in return,” he whispers and suddenly, you feel his large hand slipping under the shirt he apparently made you wear.

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ffion451 · 2 years

Text

Sorry, is your name on it? A KTH | MYG | JHS | JJK mini-series (m)

7. Saturday

Chapter Warnings: ⚠️ not suitable for minors much explicit smut (inc unprotected penetrative sex), swearing, bad jazz…

Genre: Crack, smut, fluff, teacher au

Featuring: musicteacher!Taehyung x reader, deputyhead!Yoongi, PEteacher!JK and allroundlovelyteacher!JHope

Word Count: 5.5K

___________________________________________________

Series masterpost

<<< previous day | next day >>>

It’s mid-morning before you move from the spare bedroom at Yoongi’s. You smell warm coffee coming from the kitchen and enter to see an equally exhausted looking Yoongi and a far chirpier Hoseok; Yoongi is glowering in a black hoodie and Hobi is grinning in a brightly patterned one. Not for the first time you think how opposite the two men are and yet how similar, because in essence they are the same: they are kind hearted, generous, warm and caring and you’re so grateful they’re your friends.

“I hear you turned up with Taehyung not Bogum last night?” Hoseok says.

You smile, taking a seat as Yoongi rises to pour you a mug.

With the warm liquid soothing you, you explain to Hoseok what happened and what’s happening next. By the end, your friends are smiling for you, but are also nervous. Never, in all the years they have known you, have you ever found anyone who can handle your dedication to your job, they think that maybe Taehyung might and they just hope he’s worthy of you.

“So, that’s not til later, right?” Hoseok says.

“He’s picking me up at mine at 8,” you nod.

"Ok, well I’ll take you home so you can clean up and we best head over to the unit soon then.”

You look confused.

“I know you,” he smiles, “You’re not going alone,” he says and Yoongi smiles approvingly.

“How did you know?” you ask, smiling with gratitude.

“Because, like I said, I know you, and I know it’s killing you that’s he’s alone there. I also know what stupid, insane thought is running around your brain and I want you to say it so we can deal with it.”

Yoongi, in one of his rare shows of affection, leans across the table and takes your hand in his, “Come on. we’re here for you.”

Your bottom lip trembles as the tears flow out, "It’s my fault,” you say, voice quivering, “I pushed him over the edge when I suspended him this week. This wouldn’t have happened if l’d kept him in school. All the signs were there with Isak acting out because he was off the scale at home - I didn’t do enough.”

You sob as Hobi strokes your back, "That’s absolute horseshit,” he says, but kindly, “he threatened Bogum, he destroyed a chair, he scared the shit out of some younger kids… if you hadn’t have suspended him we would have.”

Yoongi nods, "It had to be done. The best thing you can do for the kid is get your shit together and go see him. He listens to you and he needs you to show him the way.”

You nod, and after a little while of chatting you head out with Hobi.

___________________________________________________

By the time Hobi drops you at your home later that day you feel much better.

The visit to see Gwinam was a success: things were more settled, and a new plan was in place for him to go and stay with relatives out of the city so he could break free from the people around him and the mistakes he has been making. His family would be able to visit him every other weekend and that made him feel better, you’d agreed that you’d go once a month too to help him with his new school work and to continue to support him. You know you can’t replace Gwinam’s mother, long since out only a shadow in his life, but the kid looks on you like a parent and you simply cannot deny him.

You spend the rest of your early evening preparing for your date, treating yourself to a long, hot bath and scrubbing every inch of flesh, removing all rough skin and unwanted hair before slathering yourself in moisturiser and settling on your bed with a face mask: after the tension between you and Taehyung yesterday and the literal friction of what felt like an enormous erection grinding into you, you’re hopeful that tonight will lead to something more.

Later, you pull your robe tighter about you as you pick out underwear carefully. You’ve decided on a fairly casual, if short, black dress tonight so you settle on dark lace and mesh underwear, sexy enough yes, but not too sexy - whatever he gets from you tonight you fully intend to make him work for it and you don’t want to seem over-eager or desperate.

You’re slightly afraid of how much you like Taehyung, but you’re not an idiot. He’s too handsome, too charming and clever, you think. He’s not after a relationship with you, it’ll be sex and that’s all. All you can do is ensure it’s good sex so when you see him in work after it, you can hold your head high.

___________________________________________________

When 8pm rolls around, you’re exceptionally glad that there’s a camera at the entrance to your building because you gasp when you see how good Taehyung looks through the small screen; if you’d seen him at your door like that without warning you wouldn’t be able to hide your reaction and you don’t want him to know how into him you are.

As you wait for him to arrive you check your appearance again, checking there’s no lipstick on your teeth and that your hair is smooth. As you check your reflection in the mirror though all you can think of is him - those tight black trousers and roll neck, and how his hair falls into his eyes. You feel a warmth growing between your legs and a tightening, twitching sensation you’re embarrassed and overwhelmed by how you react to him. It scares you: you’re afraid that when you’ve had a taste of him, you won’t easily be able to move past it.

When you open the door, he gives you a broad smile, beaming at you before he takes you in appreciatively.

“You look good,” he says in his rich, velvety baritone, the boxy smile gone now and replaced with something far more seductive and brooding.

“As do you,” you smile, “but don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” he asks, stepping closer to you.

Reflexively, you step back and find your body pressed against the wall; he places a broad palm against the wall beside your head, the other comes to rest on your hip as he leans into you.

“Don’t do what?” he breathes against your lips, millimetres from you, and you realise you’ve not only neglected to answer, but also to breathe.

“Don’t use that voice on me,” you mumble out after sucking in air.

“What voice?” he rumbles.

“That one,” you smile, “Your ‘game’ voice,”

“I’m not playing games,” he says darkly.

The hand gripping your hip releases and comes to grip your chin instead.

“I’d kiss you, but I don’t want to spoil those pretty lips,” he teases, tilting his head as he kisses and gently licks at your neck.

He doesn’t miss how your hips push forward into his and he smirks against your skin before delivering a final soft kiss under your ear, enjoying the way you shudder beneath him.

“We’re going to be late,” you manage to squeak out.

“We better go then,” he smiles, pulling back from you and taking your hand.

“I like your apartment,” he says as he leads you to the elevator, “You’ll have to give me a tour later.”

You can’t help but laugh at his confidence and his melodious laugh joins yours and echoes down the hallway.

___________________________________________________

The grimy mirror shows you a distorted version of yourself as you grip the sink, drawing a deep breath. You still look together, but your face is a little drawn and the tension you feel inside is written across it. You’re avoiding heading back to your seat, actually, you’re avoiding Taehyung, and for more than one reason.

Firstly, and most importantly, you know you’re in over your head. You have decided this is a quick fling and though you thought you were ok that, you’re rapidly realising you might not be and that you’ve backed yourself into a corner. You like him, you really like him, and you can’t face the thought of this being a one time thing, not when you have to work with him.

The second is that the concert isn’t actually much of a concert, rather it’s a jazz free-for-all and whilst some has been relaxing, smooth and enjoyable, what’s playing now is discordant and awful.

You decide that the latter is the solution to the former: you’re going to feign a headache and go home.

Is it cowardly? Yes. Is it your best available option though? Also yes. Inner voice dealt with, you wash your hands and rehearse what you’re going to say.

___________________________________________________

In the dingy club, Taehyung sits at a table for two: the place is almost too typical of a jazz lounge, low lighting, smoke emanating from god knows where and dark red tablecloths.

He doesn’t pay much attention to the décor though, or the current cacophony playing out on stage, instead his attention is solely focused on his phone as he and Jeongguk furiously exchange messages.

It’s JK’s theory that when you come back from your toilet break that you’re going to have a shitty excuse and bail from what Taehyung has told him of the date so far. He blames the jazz but they’re both at a loss when it comes to finding a reason for your sudden cooling down of interest in Taehyung. JK’s final bit of advice is that Taehyung should under no circumstances let you leave alone.

___________________________________________________

So, lie told, you find it oddly impossible to rid yourself of Taehyung, who insists on escorting you home. The whole cab ride takes place in excruciating, suffocating silence.

He walks you to your door, as you unlock it and you can just about taste freedom from the awkward situation you’re in, he speaks.

“Sorry, I have a headache growing too, do you think I could get a glass of water?” he asks apologetically.

He notices your grip tighten on your keys as you turn them in the lock. JK theorised that if Taehyung let you go home alone, there’ll be no next date and he was better getting you away from the jazz club and speaking to you.

Now Taehyung realises whilst that sounds theoretically fine, in reality he feels like he’s pushing harder than he should and is being a bit of a creep; he wonders if he should just leave when you answer him.

“Sure,” you say, “Of course.”

___________________________________________________

You sit awkwardly at opposite ends of your couch as you both drink water you’re not thirsty for and you take headache tablets you don’t even need.

Eventually, Taehyung says your name softly, forcing you to pay attention to him and not your own thoughts, “If you’re not into this anymore, it’s fine, just say.”

You’re grateful for the lifeline, “Sorry,” you say sincerely, not quite able to meet his eyes even though he’s turned to look at you, “I’ve just started to think that it’s probably not wise for colleagues to fuck about.”

He sighs in relief, and confusion finally draws your eyes to him.

“Ok, cool” he says, “We can slow down, I don’t mind.”

Stupidly, you say what you’re thinking, “…that’s not what this is?” As soon as you’ve spoken you regret it.

“Oh?” he says, confused, “What is this?”

“Y’know, it’s a -” you flush, embarrassed as you try to find words that aren’t a quick fuck, “It’s a, uh, a tryst, I suppose,” you finally mumble out.

You don’t expect him to throw his head back and laugh, but he does and then he wheezes, “Sorry, is this the nineteenth century?”

You blush furiously now and frown at him.

“Don’t be annoyed,” he smiles, still laughing, as he scoots closer and places a comforting hand on your knee.

“It’s not ‘a tryst’,” he says reassuringly, thumb drawing circles on your leg, “Not for me anyway. I like you. I thought this was a thing, something starting, that we’d see where it went?”

“Ah, I see,” you say in a small voice.

“Is that ok?” he presses, “I promise no jazz for date three,” he jokes weakly.

“I like jazz, but maybe not that jazz,” you say bashfully.

“Noted,” he says softly, “So will there be a date three?”

As he says it you look at him, he looks almost shy and uncertain, his dark eyes wide and his mouth in a slight pout.

“Date two isn’t over yet,” you almost whisper and you bite your lower lip gently as you fix your gaze on his lips hoping he gets the hint.

He does.

He leans forward and catches your bottom lip between his and then you’re kissing again, deeply and slowly, tongues teasing each other and teeth catching on each other’s lips. Again, as with the night before, you find yourself straddling him but this time on your couch.

“Are you sure?” he asks softly, breaking away from you, his mouth smeared dark red with your lipstick.

You nod in response, your hands running through his hair as you lean in, desperate to taste him again. Teasingly though, he pulls his head back.

“Can you make sure your phone is off this time?” he smiles.

“My phone is in my bag,” you smile, gesturing to a the hook by the front door, maybe we should just leave it there and I’ll give you the tour you asked for.”

“Where should we start?” he says, running his hands up and down your sides.

You laugh and cock an eyebrow at him, doing a fairly good impression of him, “Where do you think?”

“Point,” he growls.

You smile and point at your bedroom door, which is slightly ajar. You move to get off him but he holds you tightly.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he hisses, “Hold on.”

You’re surprised, and undoubtedly aroused, by his strength as he stands up, lifting you, holding your folded legs either side of him as you wrap your arms around him before you free your legs, curling them around his waist as his hands move to grip your ass firmly.

He uses your body to push your bedroom door open before backing you into it. In this position you’re higher than him and it gives him free and easy access to kiss and suck at your neck; the impressive length you felt yesterday now pressing into your stomach.

“Taehyung, don’t mark me,” you whine softly.

He looks up at you through hooded, hungry eyes, “What if I mark you where nobody can see?”

You can only giggle in response - a giggle that’s rapidly cut off when he turns and you’re thrown unceremoniously on top of your bed.

You struggle to edge up the bed as Taehyung joins you, crawling between your legs like a panther stalking it’s prey. Before you know it he’s on top of you again, kissing you hungrily while he grinds into you, firmly embedded between your legs and all you can do is spread your knees apart and let him.

After making out aggressively for several minutes, the grinding and friction makes both of you feel sore and you break apart for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, taking in your flushed skin, smudged lipstick, wild hair and dress that’s hiked up around your hips, “I’m getting carried away,”

You smile and push his hair from his eyes, “Was I complaining?” you tease.

He grins at that, “Can I be totally honest?” he asks, creeping closer to you and running his finger from you cleavage to your navel, over your dress, in a back and forth motion that has your breath catching in your throat.

“Please,” you say invitingly.

“I’m not the guy you might think I am. I don’t really fuck about, I’m more a relationship kind of a guy so it’s been quite a while since I last did this, I might be a bit out of practice…” he flushes.

“I’m the same,” you admit, “It’s been a while. How do we do this?” You ask, embarrassed.

“Uh, I should probably take your from behind, that will probably hurt you least, but I don’t really want that tonight,” his voice is earnest and for a moment you wonder how you’re talking about such things so calmly, like you’re discussing your food preferences not how he’s going to rail you.

“Oh?” you question, you dread that he’s going to ask you to ride him or deep throat him and you know you’ll need a bit of build up before you’d be able to do either.

“I know this is new, and we don’t know where it’s going,” he explains, “But I want to look at you on our first time,”

You blush, “So you can watch me squirm?”

“No, because you’re fucking gorgeous and I want to watch your face as I fuck you,” he says simply and you feel your panties soak.

“Fuck, Taehyung,” you exhale.

“What?” he says innocently, “Don’t you want to look at me?”

“Of course I do, but do you have to be so fucking hot?” you scoff.

“Right,” he says straddling you, but keeping his weight on his own legs, “let’s get naked and I’ll show you how hot I am.” The next thing you know his roll neck is off and before you can even admire his smooth expanse of chest, he’s pulling your dress up and over your head.

He takes one look at your bralette and groans, “Ah fuck me…”

Before you can react his hands and mouth are all over your breasts, his fingers rolling your nipples through the fabric before sucking through it too. He finally breaks away panting, as you moan beneath him, whimpering his name.

“I’m hot?” he scoffs, waving his hands about over you, “What the fuck is all this then? Fuck me, you’re driving me crazy…” You blush furiously as his reaches into his pocket, pulling out a condom and throwing it on the pillow before standing off the bed to undo his belt and remove his trousers.

When he’s in his boxers, through which you can see his frankly monstrous erection, and he moves the end of the bed to pull your tights off, you finally speak.

“Um, Taehyung, the condom?”

“Hm?” he says as he pulls your tights off, licking his lips at the damp spot on the fabric between your legs before he climbs back up your body.

“I’m allergic to latex,” you say sheepishly, “is it latex-free?”

“Fuck, it’s not,” he groans, and you’re grateful that he doesn’t consider lying.

“I don’t have any,” you admit, “I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t usually do this sort of thing.”

He smiles, “It’s ok, I can go get some, there’ll be somewhere nearby that sells them right?”

“Or,” you interrupt as he moves to get off the bed, “I mean, I’m clean and I have an IUD.”

“I’m clean,” he says quickly, “but are you sure?”

You nod.

“I’ll probably come embarrassingly quickly, what if I come inside? I might not be able to help it,” he admits.

You look at his face and his hesitant and eager expression, “Full disclosure, I kind of like that,” you admit, cringing with embarrassment.

He groans at that and lunges at you, capturing your mouth again. He moves to lie beside you, his clothed cock pressing into your thigh as he kisses you, one hand fondling your breast before trailing lower and cupping your hot, almost molten sex.

“I can believe it,” he chuckles darkly, “You’re so wet for me. Take them off,” he whispers in your ear before suckling at the skin beneath.

Compliant, you move you hands down to pull off your underwear and you fling them to the floor. He pulls a pillow from behind you and puts in under you to raise your hips.

Rapidly, his hand is back on you, long fingers separating your folds as he dips a finger inside you, his thumb seeking out and circling your inflamed clit.

It’s not long before he adds another finger, curling them and twisting his wrist as you writhe about until he gets the reaction he wants: when your breath starts to shudder, when the hand gripping his forearm tightens and you fist the sheets with the other, he knows he’s found the rhythm and the spot as he finger fucks you relentlessly.

“Tae,” you moan throatily, “I want to touch you too.”

“You will,” he says, his tone dark and hungry, “Just let me take care of you first.”

It’s then that he pushes and a third finger in and you wince slightly at the intrusion. He kisses your cheek, “I know baby, you’re just so fucking tight, but I need to open you up for me, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your eyes flutter in response, “I’m so close, Tae, please don’t stop.”

“I’ve got you,” he groans, shamelessly rutting against you, his boxers wet with precum, “Come for me, pretty girl…”

Moments later you do, your hips bucking into his fingers, frustrated when he quickly withdraws them, moaning his name like a mantra. He discards his boxers quickly and then he’s suddenly on top of you, pushing your legs apart and settling himself between them “Want to feel you clenching around me, can I?”

You’re still coming down and can only moan desperately and nod.

Using a mix of his spit and your wetness from his fingers to run along his length, he guides his cock into you slowly, only the head is in when your fluttering walls spasm around him. You’re so wet for him that, tight as he finds the squeeze, he’s able to slide further in. He’s half way in when you come down from your high and he feels you tense up, hissing slightly through your teeth.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks, lowering himself closer onto his elbows and stroking your shoulders.

“Don’t stop” you smile, despite the stinging pain, “Please keep going.”

He kisses you then, covering your mouth with his as he pushes forward, swallowing your squeal as he bottoms out. He returns your breath with a deep groan into your mouth, expressing his satisfaction at ho tight you are around him.

Tears leak from your eyes at the burning sting of your hole and the pressure of your walls; you’re by no means innocent but Taehyung undoubtedly has the longest, thickest cock of anyone you’ve been with and he is throbbingly hard.

He strokes your face as he keeps kissing you hungrily, feeling the wetness on your cheek, he pulls away.

“Are you ok?” he asks with concern, his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised, his forehead gleams slightly with sweat and his tousled hair sticks to it a little. He’s the most beautiful thing you think you’ve ever seen.

“You’re a lot to take,” you say shyly.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he moans, desperate to rut into you and forcing himself to stay still as his cock twitches inside you at the compliment.

You’re beginning to adjust and so you roll your hips up into him and enjoy finally being able to get your hands on him, running them over his broad shoulders and across the expanse of his back, feeling the muscle beneath the flawless skin and the smooth curve of his spine.

You’ve admired his ass on more than one occasion in work and you can’t resist the urge to sink your nails into the soft flesh, earning a roll of his hips back into yours and you hunger for more.

He drops his head against your neck and moans and kisses the flesh there, you can’t help but raise your body slightly so you can reach his balls, softly playing with them and this time earning a sharp nip as uses his head to push your shoulder back into your bed, breaking the contact.

“I won’t last,” he moans pitifully.

It feels like he’s been inside you for ages, but you know that’s not the case, yet you marvel at his self control.

It’s better than yours and you no longer care, your hands grip his tensed biceps, as you wrap your legs around him, digging your heels in his ass to assist you as you rock your hips against him.

“You feel so good inside me,” you moan lustily, looking to encourage him, “I want you so bad.”

When he pulls away from your neck to look you, a new, dark expression is over his face, his eyes glazed with lust and his lips curved in a sexy grin.

“You’re literally begging to be fucked”, he says, rolling his hips gently into you as you deliberately clench around him drawing another grunt from him.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, withdrawing slowly from you and you keen and seek to pull him back in.

He fights against your legs, hooking one over an arm so he can spread you wider and reach a deeper angle. He withdraws further, “Tell me what you want me to do to your perfect, fucking tight, warm, wet cunt, you fucking sexy tease,” he growls.

You clench again at his filthy words and moan, “I want you to fuck me…”

“My pleasure,” he grins and he drives himself back into you without warning, causing you to cry out.

You didn’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t this: his pace isn’t slow but neither is he jackhammering inside you, it’s steady and each thrust is controlled and deep. You can only moan at the relentless steadiness of it.

He takes in your expression, your surprised delight and hunger for him and dips his head to mouth at your clavicle.

“Want to see your tits bounce for me,” he moans.

Desperate to give him everything he wants you release his arms and remove the bralette, stroking his face and running a thumb into his mouth, which he rolls with his tongue and sucks at.

You withdraw it and he releases it with a pop, your other hand then explores his back, gripping on to him, as you massage a breast with the other, using his saliva to rub and pinch at the nipple.

He makes a deep, feral noise and drops lower, turning his attention to the neglected breast and sucking the nipple between his teeth.

This new angle hits something inside you and you moan desperately. He drives in harder and faster at that, biting into your breast, before releasing it and letting more of his weight fall on to you and a hand coming between you to tease your clit as he ruts into you.

Your walls throb at the push and drag of him and grow wetter at the pounding you’re receiving and from his thumb pushing into your clit.

“Faster, harder,” you beg as your walls begin to ache.

“Come for me again, first,” he says, gritting his teeth as he rubs your clit furiously.

“Close,” you stutter out and he drives in deeper, his thumb unrelenting.

Taehyung pulls back at that, watching your face as he makes you come. Your skin glistens with sweat, your mouth moves between smiling and panting and the light sparkles in your eyes. He knew you’d be beautiful when you came, but it’s better than he imagined. You cry out; it’s somewhere between a scream, a cry and a moan, whatever it is, it drives him wild, as does your spasming cunt around him, and he feels his own high approaching.

“Too much, too much,” you whine, pushing his hand away.

He grins apologetically and licks a wide stripe up your neck as he grinds into you more slowly, enjoying the feel of your orgasm and letting you ride it out.

When your breathing evens out from its desperate pants, he starts to pick up his pace, catching your mouth for a sloppy kiss first.

“Come in me, Tae,” you breathe into him, nipping at his lower lip.

“Fuck, yes,” he groans as he leans back, lifting your legs so his thighs press against the back of yours, then he grasps your hips as he fucks into you furiously, seeking his own orgasm.

His pace becomes a bit erratic but each thrust is deep and forceful. You haven’t got the strength to meet him, but even if you could it wouldn’t matter, his grip on your hips holds you in place as he drives into you.

You can’t take your eyes off him, his glowing skin, his mussed hair, his teeth catching his lip as he hisses and grunts his way to the finish line. The noises he makes are purely feral and, exhausted and sated as your body is, it still sends a thrill to your core. You lay your hands over his where he grips you, softly stroking his wrists.

He begins to shudder and you know he’s close, suddenly he releases your hips and takes your hands in his, intertwining his fingers with yours and you return his firm grip as he delivers a few final thrusts and releases inside you, throwing his head back, his mouth open, his eyes closed as he lets out a stuttering moan.

You watch the movement of his Adam’s apple and that gorgeous jaw line and you no longer think he’s probably the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, you know he is.

Then he’s looking at you as you marvel at him and he gives you that big, boxy grin, before lowering himself back down to give you another prolonged kiss, lazy this time, full of gentle licks and soft pants, as he softens inside you.

When he finally breaks from your lips, he reaches and pulls some tissues from your bedside table, catching the spill as he eases out of you.

You replace his hand with your own as you wipe up the immediate mess and he collapses beside you. You grab the short silk robe that hangs from the edge of your headboard and waddle to the bathroom to finish cleaning yourself up.

___________________________________________________

You look at yourself in the mirror for the third time that night, and this time you’re a mess: your hair is insane, what’s left of your lipstick is smeared across your lips, your mascara is smudged and you’re sweaty as hell. You give up any thought of simply wiping up and get in the shower, only emerging when you feel squeaky clean, though between your legs aches still.

You set about towel drying your hair when you hear shuffling footsteps and a bleary-eyed Taehyung appears in the steam of the bathroom.

“You smell good,” he mutters. You say nothing, trying not to stare at him; he’s totally naked and doesn’t seem to care.

“Did I wake you?” you say apologetically, when you find your voice.

He stretches, “No, I was just dozing,” he mumbles, catching his reflection in the mirror, “Fuck, I’m a mess.”

You smirk, “You look hot to me, but you can shower if you like.”

“Don’t say that to me,” he moans, standing behind you, “I can’t go for round two yet.”

You blush, “Get in the shower, I’ll get you towels. Use what you want.”

Taehyung smiles, back-hugging you and hooking his chin over your shoulder, smiling softly for long moments before he speaks, “This is nice.”

“Hmm?”

“This,” he explains, meeting your eyes in the mirror, “Being with you.”

You blush again, “It is,” you admit, before you encourage him towards the shower, explaining how it works before leaving to get things for him.

You return as he’s singing softly to himself with his back to you. You have sleep shorts and a large tee that Yoongi always leaves at yours in case he ends up crashing, as well as your fluffiest towels. You hope Taehyung will stay over, and this is your way of encouraging him to do so.

Back in your room you throw clothes on and blast your hair with the dryer quickly. You throw the blanket that covers your bed in the laundry along with the pillowcase that had been under your ass while he fucked you, swapping it out for a clean one and opening the window to let out the smell of sex. You clear away your clothes and neatly fold his. Finally, you climb into bed, exhausted.

When he gets out of the shower, Taehyung is relieved to see sleepwear along with the towels, he was hoping you’d let him stay and he’s grateful. He’s touched that you’ve also given him a new toothbrush and he gets even softer for you.

When he returns to your bedroom, cleaned, clothed and dry, you’re already fast asleep. He slides in beside you, glad you’re only in an oversized tee so he can feel as much of you as possible. Careful not to wake you, he wraps himself around you, holding you close to him. He feels content as you grumble happily in your sleep while he encases you in his long limbs: he likes this position, and his last thought before sleep claims him is that he’ll probably fuck you like this when you wake up tomorrow.

___________________________________________________

<<< previous day | next day >>>

#bts smut #taehyung smut #v smut #taehyung x oc #taehyung x reader #taehyung fic #bts fanfic #bangtan #bts #kim taehyung #bts v #taehyung x female reader #taehyung x you #v fanfic #taehyung fanfic

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zinzinina · 3 years

Text

part ii (reward)

Pairing - Boba Fett x Reader Rating - Explicit 18+ Word Count - 5.5k A/N - I initially thought this would just be a single installation but I found myself wondering what would happen next with these two and I guess you guys felt the same way! I really hope you enjoy this second part. And who knows, my brain may not be able to leave this one alone for long.

main masterlist // series masterlist

The credits clink in your bag as you stride up to the hazy guild dive. In the space of a few weeks, you’ve made more than you have in the entire rest of your hunting career. Still not enough for a ship with a decent hyperdrive but it’s a good start. You can put a chunk of this aside to upgrade your weapons, maybe finally get your hands on a dart rifle you can customise with some range on it. Everything has turned out even better than you expected. Which is why it’s so fucking annoying that you feel completely wretched.

You can’t stop thinking about that night on the floor of his ship. The way his hair slipped between your fingers, the feel of his tongue between your thighs. Or, more painfully, how broken his voice sounded when he called you beautiful. His insistence on you keeping your eyes on him. And the tentative way he pulled you against him in the dark, both spent and exhausted from your injuries and the botched hunt. And as badly as you want to replay these memories over and over, it’s impossible to escape the ones that come next; the following morning when you woke alone, stiff with dried sweat.

You’d gathered up your discarded clothing and crept around while the buzz of a macro welder drifted distantly through the ship, until you’d climbed into the cockpit only to find him fully armoured and helmeted again. Your heart had sunk. Surely in his own ship, he wouldn’t normally bother with what you assumed would be such a restrictive and uncomfortable piece of equipment over his head? And after what had happened, you'd imagine a certain... relaxation between you. So the fact he was wearing it again seemed to send a pretty clear message; nothing had changed. You were working together; that's it.

And so you'd matched his air of casual civility the entire rest of the job, exchanging words about weapons and drop locations only. You ate your meals alone, unwilling to reveal that you were dying to see his face again. You polished your blaster, replenished your stim canisters and spent your time alone in the hold running through stretches and the simple agility exercises you need to stand a chance against any larger opponent. All the while excruciatingly aware of his presence on the ship. When he'd stepped down to check a display panel or climb into the engine room to adjust the deflector generator, you had made a concerted effort to appear thoroughly occupied. Ignoring the fact you could see him pausing in the doorway, watching you for just a moment longer than necessary.

When you’d finally landed back in Coruscant, it wasn’t just the desire for nonrecycled air that had you bursting out of the ship - which is good because the Lower Levels weren’t exactly known for their freshness. Just like that, the job was done. You’d split the bounties, and true to his word he gave you more than half, handing over the complete sum on the jobs he’d barely had to work on, still leaving you both with a very sweet profit. Now, pausing in the seedy glow of the alley’s fluorescent lights, you’re exhausted. And ready for a drink.

“Hey. Hey! Stim girl.”

You scowl into your spotchka. It would’ve been smarter to just find a cheap inn to slink into, you think mournfully as the Weequay claps a hand on your shoulder.

“Heard you and Fett were the ones who cleaned out all the pucks. Couldn’t leave any for the rest of us, sweetheart? I’m surprised you lasted so long! Fett doesn’t play nice with others. Just ask poor old Aurra, Maker rest her soul! He must like you. And who could blame him, eh?” He’s far too loud, guffaw setting your teeth on edge as you dreamily contemplate shooting him in the face. Shit, maybe Fett's rubbed off on you more than you realised.

“What do you want?” your voice an inflectionless deadpan. Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone.

He leans in even closer, clearly not picking up on your mood through his slurred enthusiasm.

“I could use your help. I had… well, let’s call it an unfortunate disagreement with my crew. I’m looking for another pair of hands, and I can offer you a ride to wherever you need to go if you just help me get my ship back.”

You're absently inspecting your nails as he talks, brain empty except for thoughts of Fett’s thighs under your hands. You hear yourself hum noncommittally, and he ploughs ahead.

“I knew you’d understand! Brains in that pretty head, who would've thought! All we gotta do is, uh, well all you gotta do is clean ‘em out. Backstabbers! They don’t deserve the protection of The Code! Which is why you need to make it look good… A terrible accident, something unavoidable. Like a... a gas leak, or whatever. However it is you do your thing. If they find out we’re going after members, they’ll mount our heads on the wall.”

You choke on your drink.

“Wait, what the fuck?!”

He’s unperturbed. “We could start a real gas leak… poke a hole in the hyperfuel line… be expensive to fix, though.”

You whip your head around the bar in alarm. You knew he was a moron but he must be totally wasted to be discussing this so loudly. If anyone hears you, you’ll be thrown out of the Guild for even having this conversation.

“I’m not interested in working with anyone. And while it's just a great offer, I’ll pass.”

He smacks a hand to his chest in mock heartbreak.

“Sweetheart. Baby! You won’t help a poor man in his hour of need? Whatever special treatment Fett was giving you, I’ll double it!”

Unbidden, that image pops into your head and you shudder. He snickers in an insinuating way you don’t like at all. And that's it; you really don’t feel like listening to this anymore. You swing yourself off the stool, tossing a few chits on the bar and heading for the exit. The drunk idiot follows you, wheedling and stumbling to keep up with your lengthened stride as you pass through the grubby streets of the Lower Levels. You skip down a few more darkened rows and turn into an alleyway, head throbbing as you try to remember the last time you ate. Surely you didn’t just pour that spotchka into an empty stomach? Ugh. You’re realising now that this far down, you probably aren’t going to find anywhere to stay and you’re about to turn back when the Weequay swings around in front of you, temper flaring.

“Alright girl, listen. You think you’re too hot for me now you’ve worked with a bigshot like Fett, huh? Walking around flaunting more credits than you need? Too bad. I can’t have you telling anyone about this. And maybe that cash you got jangling in your bag’ll buy me someone a bit more helpful.”

You frown at him. He’s gone a little blurry around the edges. You wonder if that’s something his species does when they’re angry. Then you realise the walls of the alley are tilting sideways.

“Huh,” you murmur to yourself, fascinated.

Your fuzzy head registers a flash of light in his hand, and you twist just in time to dodge the vibroblade aimed at your abdomen, your arm shooting out to grasp his forearm. Using his forward momentum to pull him off balance, you twist yourself lithely underneath his arm as he tumbles to the ground. A manoeuvre you’ve pulled hundreds of times, it takes you a second to realise that you’re falling with him.

Your dulled reflexes slow your limbs like you’re trapped in wroshyr sap, and you kick out with your legs as he rolls your bodies until you’re underneath him, his gnarled face twisted into a snarl as you grapple wildly for the stims in your belt, finding only his legs straddling yours and blocking your access. Instead, you smash your fist upwards, connecting with the ridge of hornlike growths along his jaw and even through the fog of alcohol the pain forces the breath out of your lungs. He takes his chance to headbutt you, and your head snaps back against the garbage-strewn alley floor.

You’re desperately trying to bring your knees up between his legs, but your boots scuff on the filthy ground, unable to gain purchase. Your head is ringing, your limbs useless, the hard angles of your bag digging into the base of your spine where you’re laying on it. He’s scrabbling at the ground around you, searching for the knife, when his entire body is ripped off yours and you gasp at the release of weight from your chest, sucking in clear air.

There’s a horrible noise, and you force your spinning gaze back into focus just in time to see the armoured figure holding the Weequay’s body up in front of his own, both men facing you as Boba Fett’s arm wraps underneath the struggling bounty hunter’s arm and up to his throat from behind. Fett’s build is stocky and solid, and despite the fact that he’s a good head shorter than the Weequay, he shows no signs of exertion as his grip tightens on the other hunter’s neck, letting him gurgle brokenly for air for a few seconds. You’re catching your breath, and you see the helmet tilt down to consider you as you scramble up into a sitting position.

“You’re drunk,” his modulated voice gravels out.

You can’t think of a single intelligent thing to say, so instead you say something stupid:

“How d’you know?”

The helmet watches you impassively for another moment, while the Weequay writhes and claws uselessly at the beskar-covered arm holding him. Fett’s movements seem almost an afterthought as he drops the other man bodily to the ground, letting him crumple into a heap.

“Because a piece of shit like this wouldn’t be able to knock you off your feet if you weren’t.”

The Weequay is retching, grasping at Boba’s foot.

“Fett! I wasn’t going to hurt her - she attacked me! The bitch is crazy!”

If he hadn’t just tried to kill you, you’d almost feel sorry for him. Boba raises a boot and kicks down, hard. You hear the clean, loud snap of his knee breaking before he starts screaming. You clear your throat, voice loud enough over the noise for Boba to hear.

“I was actually fine.”

He makes a gruff noise under the helmet. You continue, tongue garbling the words as they pour out.

“Why do - you even... following me for? Aren’t you busy? Like... ignoring me?”

He shakes his head once, an irritated gesture. The Weequay’s still wailing at the top of his lungs, and Boba unlatches the carbine rifle from across his back. You panic for a second.

“Wait, don’t kill him! You might get away with flouting the Code whenever you want, but some of us still need to follow rules. Everyone saw him leaving with me.”

His voice is barely above a growl.

“He lost any protection the Code had to offer when he tried to kill you. If you’re worried about getting in trouble, I’ll just make sure there aren’t any pieces left big enough to find.”

You aren’t sure why you feel the need to stop him, but you do. You’re not squeamish about the violence of the act itself. You know he’s right; the Weequay was only going to kill you and then the rest of his crew. Maybe it’s because you don’t want to owe him any more of a debt than you already do. He’s aiming the blaster down when you blurt -

“Boba. Please. Don’t.”

He jerks his head up, and you wish you could see his expression under there. Instead, he brings the butt of the rifle down and smashes it across the side of the writhing hunter’s head, cutting off the noise and knocking him out cold.

You breathe through your nose a few times, trying to slow the way everything’s spinning with dots of light. You’re not sure if it’s the spotchka or the blow to your head, but you’re feeling queasy as you ease yourself up into a lopsided lean against the wall of the alley. A wild, involuntary gasp of hysteria bursts out of your lips as you look at him standing motionless.

“Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is? I was gonna… I don’t know, do something impressive the next time I saw you. Something really tough. Strut in with a rancor on a leash.”

He still hasn’t moved. At least, you don’t think he has. You don’t trust your eyes anymore. Everything appears to be wobbling around as though you’re underwater.

He sighs, finally stepping toward you.

“I don’t know, this is pretty impressive. You can barely stand and you still disarmed the guy.”

You groan, wrapping an arm around your middle as you bend to pick up the Weequay’s fallen vibroblade, your heavy bag swinging around your body.

“You’re laughing at me.”

He chuckles shortly through the modulator, reaching an arm out to stop you from losing your balance as you straighten up.

“Never.”

And the sound of his gravelly voice is enough to cut through your haze and burn pleasurably into the base of your stomach. The buzzing in your limbs now feels like a warm effervescence, and you suddenly decide the absolute best thing you could do in this moment is press yourself against the entire length of his body. His hand is still on your shoulder, keeping you steady as you blink up at the helmet, head tilted back as you lean against him. He exhales in a huff.

“Yeah, you’re coming back to the ship.”

Heat explodes beneath your skin, and he speaks again.

“To sleep.”

He turns to lead you out the way you came, your heart sinking as you step over the motionless lump at your feet. The rejection smacks you with humiliation, and you vacantly recall how you ended up here in the first place: drinking, confused and lonely. You concentrate on placing one foot in front of the other, thoughts boiling around in your head. He’s silent beside you, the only sound his spurs ringing lightly over the distant sounds of music and speeders drifting down from the next level.

You wonder what he was actually doing down here. Surely not the same as you; he’s never been seen to socialise. You’re normally not one to indulge in fantasies, but you let yourself pretend he came to apologize. Maybe he’d been thinking about you just as you’d been thinking about him. The two of you are passing back up through the same levels as earlier now; the smoggy streets brighter and louder with activity.

As you pass outside a lewd-looking establishment, a Twi’lek woman stands bored while a group of rough-looking men argue among themselves. One catches sight of you and your companion and falls silent, watching nervously. The others look around to see what he’s staring at and blanch, shuffling quickly out of the way to clear your path. Boba seems to barely register the scramble his appearance produces, ignoring the men completely as you both step up to the next level and approach Slave I’s temporary landing pad. And it’s so fucking hot, you think, dimly aware of the unfairness of it, how unbothered he seems, how untouchable. If you'd been alone, you're positive those men would've had something boorish to say. And he doesn't even notice the effect he has on what's happening around him.

A flick at his vambrace brings the ramp of the ship down, and he turns to face you.

“You should rest. Wouldn’t want you getting into any more fights.”

There’s a faint tone of humour underneath the growl of his voice and you open and close your mouth before speaking.

“Where are you going?”

“Someone to see. Won’t take long. Unless there was somewhere else you want to go?”

You frown. You could still try to find a cheap inn, there’s plenty of them around here. But if you’re being honest, it’s a waste of credits. And the bunk on the ship is way more comfortable than anything you’re prepared to pay for.

“How do you know I’m not just going to steal your ship and disappear?”

He just shakes his head, stalking up the steps leading to the next level.

You sleep badly, your head pounding and knuckles beginning to swell, throbbing where you connected with the exposed bone of the Weequay’s face. You know how easy it would be to dull the pain with a shot from one of your canisters, but you’ve long held an aversion to using them unless the situation is absolutely dire, acutely conscious of the addictive properties. So instead you toss uneasily in the bunk, uncomfortable in your loose-fitting shirt and underwear, flinching awake every time you hear a creak in the ship’s hull in case it’s Boba returning.

After several long hours of this, you decide you’ve had enough and drag yourself to the fresher. Gulping mouthfuls of stale-tasting recycled water, you splash your face and consider your reflection. You feel disgustingly, spikily sober, and you’re furious about last night. You’ve held your own against much bigger and smarter enemies than that drunken sleemo, and you know you would never have been taken down so easily if you weren’t distracted. You decide right there that you’re not letting this kind of fuckup happen again. It's beneath you. And whatever Fett’s deal is with following you and letting you pass out in his ship, you’re not getting sucked in by it. No way.

Filled with fresh resolve, you spin to exit the tiny chamber, the door retracting up into the ceiling track - and freeze, inches from the man leaning against the doorframe, helmet under his arm.

You were woefully unprepared for the visceral reaction to seeing his bare face again, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, dark brow furrowed into that familiar, piercing glare as he considers your state of undress.

“How’s the head?”

You forcibly tear your gaze from the movement of his lips as you respond.

“Fine. Like I said, it was under control. What were you doing down there?”

He doesn’t even pause before answering.

“Looking for you.” As though nothing happened. As though it doesn't mean a thing.

Your mouth drops open. How dare he? To treat you with such professional, polite civility after making you beg him to to fuck you on the floor of his ship. To dish out your share of the bounty and let you walk off, only to come swooping in when you fuck up and find yourself unable to defend yourself - and when it was all his fault you were so preoccupied in the first place. You’re spitting the words at him before you consider what you’re doing.

“No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to walk around like nothing happened, when all it's all I can fucking think about. You don’t get to, to - feel nothing, you fucking ass-“

His helmet hits the ground between your bodies with a low clunk, his mouth hard against yours as he forces you back through the doorway. Your back hits the wall of the tiny chamber, his tongue sliding into your mouth as a gloved hand roughly yanks your hair back to allow him better access, the cold hardness of his armour crushing as he presses you back. The sharpness of the contrasting sensations; the heat of his kiss and the thrill of pain from the tightness of his grip cause an immediate and insistent throb of need between your thighs. You moan involuntarily into his mouth, trying to press your legs together to relieve the spike of pressure. He breaks from your lips, his body hard against yours as he hisses at you, practised hands ripping plates of armour off piece by piece.

“We had a fucking job to do. Do you know how hard it is to focus when you’re in here? Stretching your legs, bending over like that? Walking around my ship, looking at me like that? And doing it on purpose. You know what you do to me, you...”

You feel like your entire body is aflame, pinned in place and watching as he lets a pauldron drop somewhere behind him. You can feel how hard he already is through his pants, the length pressing into your hip.

You bite back a whimper as you twist your body against his, trying to manoeuvre yourself into a better position so you can feel him against your cunt. The heat between your legs is unbearable, you’re desperate for his touch, his tongue, his cock, anything. He rips off a glove with his teeth, his bare hand cupping your chin and forcing your head up as his glower devours you.

It’s like he’s been starving to death for those interminable weeks just the same as you, as he takes in the shape of your body, the frantic rise and fall of your chest, the way your legs are pressed together against the weight of him. His hands are hard, running down your back to grab at the curve of your ass and you gasp as he lifts you bodily against him, holding your weight between himself and the wall. He’s pressing himself hard into the apex of your thighs, the tented material doing nothing to conceal his arousal as you wrap your legs around his waist, squeezing yourself as close as possible to the hard outline of his cock, lining it up perfectly with your aching clit. Even the dulled sensation through the layers of your clothing is enough to elicit a gasp from you.

“Fu- fuck, fu-“, your breaths are broken, hitching in your chest as you shamelessly roll your hips, twitching in his grasp, dragging yourself against him. He’s watching you, eyes impossibly dark as his voice is a barely audible growl.

“You’re gonna get me killed.”

He turns, supporting your weight easily as he lifts you to sit on the edge of the cold durasteel cabinet on the opposite side of the enclosed space, drawing your underwear off as he slides his hands out from underneath you and down to your knees, forcing them apart. Your mind goes completely blank, purely driven by animalistic sensation as he slides his fingers down between your legs and parts your lips, groaning low in his chest when he feels how wet you already are. He drops to a kneel, and his grip on your thighs feels bruising as he leans in to taste you. You can’t stop yourself raking your fingers through his thick hair, remembering how soft it felt, having missed the sensation of it. You only have a second to enjoy the feeling before he closes his lips around your clit, and you shudder, your toes pointing and back arching as you involuntarily press your hips toward his face.

His mouth on your cunt is like a furnace, and you’re exquisitely aware of the exact pressure of his hands, holding your legs open, his thumbs pressed into the sensitive underside of each knee. You imagine his fingerprints branding you, his touch marking you permanently as he drags his tongue firmly but slowly up the side of your clit - and you feel the moment he registers that spot, up and slightly to the side that causes you to jolt in his grasp. He focuses his attention there as you feel your limbs melting in his grip, the helpless undoing coalescing in the soaked thrum of agonising bliss between your legs.

You feel as though you could die right now: you could be thrown out of the airlock in hyperspace, shot to pieces, torn limb from limb, you don’t give a single fuck, because this - this is the most uncontrolled pleasure you’ve ever felt. Just as you feel the lower half of your body begin to seize up, he turns his head to the side, withdrawing his mouth from your cunt, his absence a shock of cold lack, instead biting gently into the inside of your thigh. You exhale in a huff, your climax lost.

He doesn’t let you move before he patiently begins again from the very start, lips a breath away from your clit as he slowly licks a hot line up your pussy. He’s still moving achingly slowly, and you’re unintentionally making whimpering complaints of frustration - how the fuck is he moving so slowly? His hands on your thighs are hard, his brow furrowed above his closed eyes as he works you into a sweating, writhing mess - then he pulls back again, your building orgasm dropping out into nothing.

And then it hits you. He’s doing this on purpose. The fucking asshole is doing this on purpose, lifting you towards your release then drawing back, letting you crack apart with madness. And like any disciplined hunter, he’s completely calm about the way he’s torturing you, a sign of his absolute control, his focus. You scoff breathlessly in disbelief, and you feel his lips quirk into a smirk against the inside of your thigh, where he presses a kiss. Even as your fury blazes, a tiny cylinder firing in the back of your brain mourns that you don't get to see that upturn of his lips.

You dimly register that your grip in his hair is savage; you must be tugging hard enough to cause pain but if anything his hums against your cunt sound as though he’s sinking into his own unravelling, and he withdraws his hold on one of your legs to palm his erection. You wonder how rare it is for him to feel someone else’s fingers in his hair, how good it must feel, how sensitive. You watch, blood pounding in your face at the sight of his head buried between your thighs, as he frees his swollen cock from the waistband of his pants and roughly squeezes the length.

The way he touches himself is harsh - fist tight as the flushed head leaks precum and the sight couples with the way your inner thighs are trembling to bring a sharp throb of arousal deep in your belly. You’re once again starting to climb the cresting waves of pleasure from his unrelenting attention, bringing you to a state of total destruction. You can hear your own whimpering moans, and you drag one of your hands free from his hair to press to your mouth, biting the back of your own hand to still the sounds. His tongue presses harder, more urgently, and your hips buck spasmodically but he doesn’t break his rhythm for a moment and your eyes roll back in your head, your head falling back against the wall as you tumble toward your peak with an intensity that forces the air from your lungs.

You feel it before it hits; and it's like watching an enormous wave cresting before dragging you off your feet. Your cunt is clenching down on nothing, again and again, as your release both loosens and tightens every muscle in your body. He doesn’t let up on his attention, tongue still dragging your orgasm from you, time suspending as you keep cumming and cumming around his mouth, impossibly endless, your brain absolutely liquefied, abdomen straining hard as a gush of wetness floods the inside of your thighs, and he hisses something low, sounding triumphantly arrogant.

Your legs are shaking so hard you can’t do anything to resist when he yanks your ankles, dragging you forward to the edge of the bench until your feet hit the ground. You don’t even have time to rest your weight there before he’s flipping you, bending you double over the bench, the corner hard against your hipbones. The cold metal bites at your sensitive nipples through your thin shirt and you shiver at the sensation, conscious of the way he’s staring down at your exposed ass, your legs stretched out for your toes to barely reach the floor, and he hisses a drawn out curse as he presses and curls two fingers tight and deep into your drenched cunt, gathering the wetness of your orgasm to stroke his own throbbing cock once and again. Heat thrumming in your face, you can only grip the edges of the counter to brace yourself and bite your lip as he splits you open in one long, smooth motion. Your cunt is gripping him like a vice, the stretch unbelievable with your legs pressed closed together between his, and you both shudder as he bottoms out.

“How - fuck, how are you so fucking tight - fuck,” he chokes.

He withdraws completely, the loss of the fullness enough to make you want to sob, before driving his cock back in as he presses a large, rough hand down on the small of your back, holding you pinned against the counter as he begins to work in and out. And you can’t move a millimetre, all you can do is squeeze your thighs, trying to encourage his movements, desperate for him to hold you tighter, fuck you deeper, your legs useless, the air forced from your lungs. He quickly sets a punishing rhythm, and your ragged breaths fall into synchrony with one another. His firm hips slap against your ass with each thrust, a sheen of sweat covering you both, and you can feel how ridiculously hard he is, how overwrought he must be, how tight it must feel, the heat and wetness loud enough as to be downright gratuitous. The angle is torturous; you can feel him in your fucking guts, deeper than you’ve ever imagined possible, the thickness cutting your shallow breaths into short gasps as he slides deliciously against that spot at the front of your cunt, making you clench down hard. And it makes him groan, his arm sliding around your waist and up between your breasts to crush your body to him, leaning you back against the length of his chest - which is when two things happen at once.

The abrupt change of angle is suddenly, blindingly powerful against that sensitive spot, throwing you over the edge of another orgasm; but the climax is delayed for a moment, and you hang suspended as something in your melted brain tumbles into place. When it finally connects, the realization slams into you like a speeder; this is the same position you saw him in last night, when he crushed the other bounty hunter with one arm against his own body while you watched. And the parallels between that and now, the brutality and tenderness, the thought of his savagery coupled with the devastating way he’s fucking you rips you over the edge and you cum, viciously hard, and you can’t hold back a wail that cracks your voice on the way out as your entire body explodes in a wave of unbearable pleasure. Every muscle in your body tightens around him, losing all feeling in your fingers and toes. You hear the moment he loses control too, and his lips press down on your shoulder, teeth biting down as if he’s desperately trying to anchor himself, and you feel the thickness of his cock pulsing as he releases himself in long bursts. The moment stretches, the throbs slowing before finally he withdraws from you.

You’re distantly aware of Boba dragging himself up behind you and tossing off his shirt and pants as you feel a trickle of cum run down the inside of your thigh and you collapse shakily onto your knees, curled on the floor. You slip out of time, no idea how long you’re there before he’s scooping you up and lifting you into the tiny fresher stall where you’re both silent under the warmth of the water. This part; the part afterwards, feels somehow as though you’re far more exposed, more intimate than during what came before. You’re hesitant to touch him, and so you quietly soak in the warmth, leaning your weight on the wall, your legs still loose and boneless. But then you catch him looking at you, eyes considering, and as though he doesn’t even mean to do it, he’s scooped your wet hair gently from where it’s plastered to your face, drawing the strands carefully from where they catch around your eyes and mouth.

You start, and he doesn’t withdraw his hand. His permanently severe expression is back, mouth a hard line under furrowed brows, but his hand is soft against the side of your head. And it feels oddly reckless, but you lift your own hand to hold him there, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm. You’re rewarded with... it’s not a smile. It’s not even the beginning of a smirk. But it’s there: the faintest, tiniest lift at the side of his lips. And for now, that’s enough.

You’re dry, clean and clothed when you hear him step behind you while digging through your bag. Without turning, you speak lowly, your gaze fixed determinedly on nothing.

“Thank you. I owe you a favour, not just for stopping that guy from skinning me, but letting me crash here last night. I really should go, though. I need to get to Zolan, pick up some gear and book a ride before I claim any more pucks. And you’ve probably got shit to do, you don’t want to hang around here...”, you trail off as his step sounds closer, and force yourself to glance over your shoulder.

Armoured but helmetless, his arms are crossed over his chest. There’s a pause before he speaks.

“I can give you a lift to Zolan. And I wanted to ask you... there’s work on Sriluur. Might be a two person job. If you’re interested.”

His normally monosyllabic speech sounds more disjointed than usual, as though he's exerting an inordinate amount of effort on the simple words. You feel the smallest lightening in your chest, and you feel your mouth twitch on one side.

“Yeah. I’m interested.”

He nods stiffly, and leaves you standing there with half a smile as he turns to head to the cockpit.

#boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfiction #star wars smut #fanfic #bounty hunting is a complicated profession #boba fett has had a shitty life #twenty-something boba #a mutually beneficial arrangement #a mutual arrangement

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

don’t say you miss me

word count: 5.5k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, references to sex but nothing explicit, cursing, recreational drug use (marijuana), alcohol consumption, there is no happy ending

recommended listening: overnight | maggie rogers

series masterpost: here

a/n: second installment of hiiapl! little overnight inspired ditty that i’m actually pretty proud of. i’m having so much fun with this it’s insane

You had never meant to get attached.

It was a lot easier said than done – especially with Kevin. He was loud and obnoxious, sure, but it was part of his charm. When you first met him, outside a club in downtown Winnipeg, you were blown away by his duality. He had been so loud with his group but quietly brought you a bottle of water after you puked on the sidewalk. After insisting you take his number so you could let him know you got home safely, Kevin convinced you to go to dinner with him. One meal turned into several and before you knew it you were engaged in a casual fling with the Winnipeg Jets’ newest centre. It was mostly sex, with the ocasional interaction outside of the bedroom, but something about Kevin made it feel like more than just a hookup. Over the few months you slept together your feelings shifted, and you began to harbour a rather large crush.

Just when you were going to take the leap and talk to Kevin about getting serious fate reared its ugly head. After only being in Winnipeg for six months, electing to not return to Massechusettes right away after the Jets playoff run finished, Kevin was traded out of the city. The news split your heart in two – there was no way the two of you could become a couple. Though long distance could have been an option, you weren’t going to ask him to commit to that. Being a professional athlete is tough as is, and having a girlfriend a six hour flight away was extra stress you refused to put on Kevin.

The last night you spent with Kevin was emotional. Lots of tears were shed, mostly from you. You knew he was compartmentalizing it all and trying to not let you know how much the trade was affecting him. Whenever the two of you had talked about hockey, Kevin was always quick to mention how much he loved Winnipeg and how much he wanted to stay. Neither of you talked much, too focussed on wallowing in sadness and committing each other’s bodies to memory. He left the next morning, and there was a silent agreement that whatever the two of you had was over. It was fun while it lasted but now you both have to be adults and get on with life.

☼☼☼☼

Nearly six months later you consider yourself to be getting on with life just fine. You’ve got a better paying job, a new apartment, and enthusiastically throw yourself into any project that’s presented. To others, however, you’re barely hanging on. Any time you get a text notification, you hold your breath until a name flashes that isn’t Kevin’s. A notification from Instagram saying he viewed your story makes your heart beat three times as fast. You constantly check for updates on how he’s playing, and watch as many Flyers games media blackouts will allow just to catch a glimpse of his face. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t shake Kevin Hayes.

“They’ll be in town this weekend,” your best friend Rachel says. “Are you gonna reach out to him?”

You nearly drop the carton of chinese food you’re eating on the floor. “I didn’t know that,” you stammer, trying to make your surprise believable. Kevin will be back in Winnipeg for the first time since being traded. You knew this already, of course, because you have the Flyers scheduled imprinted in your memory.

She narrows her eyes at you. “Don’t fucking lie to me. You knew they were coming to town. The NHL app stays open on your phone at all times.”

Caught in your lie, you can do nothing but duck your head. You’ve thought a lot about what you’re going to do. Should you send him a text, let him know you’re available after the game? Or should you ignore him completely and make it seem as though you’re doing much better than you are?

“I don’t know Rach. I’ve never had a sort of ex come back to the city he left me in.”

“He didn’t necessarily want to leave you,” Rachel points out. “He got traded. If you want my two cents, I don’t think you should give him a call. You need to move on, not stay stuck in the past.”

Your friend is right, and you know that’s what you should do. Moving on from Kevin would be easier if you didn’t try to contact him. He hasn’t reached out to you so you assume you’re the only one in the relationship still struggling to come to terms with his departure. You struggle with the decision until puck drop, but ultimately decide against texting him. It simply wouldn’t be beneficial for your fragile heart.

A small group of friends has gathered at Rachel’s to watch the game. You’re lucky, or unlucky, to run with a crowd of die-hard Jets fans who get together any time they play, whether it’s at someone’s house or a sports bar around the corner from the arena. Though you tried your best to get out of it tonight, making up any excuse you can think of to stay at home and sob quietly into a pillow, Rachel knows better than to let you be alone and forces you to be in attendance.

It’s a pretty quiet game with the Jets dominating the first two periods. The Flyers are sluggish, not connecting passes and taking far too many penalties. You’re pretty sure Winnipeg has it in the bag when the puck drops for the final twenty minutes of play, so you turn your attention away from the television, picking up a conversation with Christina, the girl your friend Tyler brought along.

Some choice words must have been said to the Flyers in the intermission because they come out swinging. Before you can comprehend what’s happening, they’ve tied the game. The period is full of contact, with multiple players from each team spending time in the penalty box. Your attention is once again returned to the large screen for the final few minutes, and your jaw drops as you watch Kevin dangle through the Jets defence to sink the puck into the back of the net. It turns out to be the game winning goal, and you sit in silence as your friends pay up the money they lost in bets and check their updated fantasy pool standings. Maybe you should text him.

“Don’t fucking do it,” you hear Rachel whisper in your ear. Your other friends know of your past with Kevin, they were around and spent some time with him, but they don’t know how much you were still holding on. Everyone besides Rachel assumes you’re alright – that Kevin is just a blip in your past.

You roll your eyes and sigh, but tuck your phone back into the pocket of your jeans. It stays there – out of sight, out of mind – until it buzzes some time later. Expecting it to be your mother hounding you for not calling in a while, you pull it out. A message from Kevin flashes and you go whiter than a ghost.

Taking the boys out celebrating the big win. You in?

The words, so casual, feel like a punch to the stomach. Why the months of radio silence just to ask to see him like you’re friends? Making sure that no one is paying attention to you, you quickly type out a reply.

That’s not a good idea and you know it Kevin.

You send the message and immediately turn off your phone. This way you won’t have to deal with the aftermath until much later. You allow other things to hold your attention and don’t head home until you’re so tired that it will be impossible for you to think about Kevin’s text.

When you power your phone back up in the morning, you’re shocked to find that Kevin never responded. He obviously didn’t care too much about your absence, and part of you wonders if he was just being polite. It doesn’t make sense, but instead of letting your brain overthink the lack of response you throw yourself headfirst into cleaning your apartment. Hours later it’s spotless, and you slump onto the couch in a pile of exhaustion. You check your social media notifications, a few mentions from your friends about the shenanigans you all got up to the night before and your sister tagging you in a post letting you know she’d like to visit a specific beach the next time she comes to visit. Kevin’s profile photo sits at the top of your instagram feed, and before you can stop yourself you click to view his story.

It’s a snapshot of his teammates with bright smiles on their faces. Each of them is holding a can of beer, and a few look as though they shared a joint before entering the establishment. The photo is captioned ‘glad to be back in winterpeg’ and is accompanied by a couple of snowflake emojis. Your heart clenches inside your chest – it hurts more than you thought it would to see him enjoying himself as though he has no bittersweet feelings about being back. It would be beneficial to unfollow Kevin, but you can’t force yourself to pull the metaphorical trigger and completely cut him from your life.

Kevin leaves the next day for Vancouver. You know this because you watch his story yet again, and curse yourself for grasping at straws. Why must he have such a strong hold on you after so long? A call to Rachel has her driving to your place in minutes, ready to hold you while you cry and distract you from the pain that still lingers from his first departure.

☼☼☼☼

It’s easier to forget Kevin without him being in the city – you do your best, and eventually it sort of sticks.

He no longer crosses your mind every few days. You go weeks, sometimes a month or two, without thinking about him. It’s nice to no longer get sad when you enter a bar you frequented with him or wince when someone mentions how he’s playing. It also helps that he never returns to Winnipeg.

There’s no reason for him to. The Flyers don’t play another away game against the Jets the rest of season, and as far as you know he doesn’t frequently talk to his old teammates. Your life fades into a quiet routine you come to love dearly. The world feels balanced for the first time since Kevin left and you’re nothing but thankful.

Life moves on, and you find yourself succeeding in your career – so much so that you’re quickly offered a promotion. The change increases your workload and doesn’t leave you much of a life outside of work, but it doesn’t matter much to you. It’s a welcome distraction and keeps thoughts of Kevin out of your mind. No one comments on your genuine improvement, but you know they can see it. Rachel is proud, and she’s told you exactly once. It’s all you’ll get out of her so you take it and roll with it. The rest of the regular season passes without you so much as knowing, or caring, and before you know it there’s a notification for an article saying the Flyers were eliminated in the second round. For the first time you find it really hard to care.

☼☼☼☼

Summers in Winnipeg are your favourite. The city is warm for the first time all year and the flowers look beautiful in full bloom. With the promotion you’re afforded more vacation time, which you plan to take full advantage. There’s nothing you love more than hanging with friends in the sun, soaking up the rays, and casually drinking.

The days bleed into one another in the way that all good summers should, and before you realize it it’s your last day at work for a week. It will be nice to be free from workplace constraints for a while, and your friends have the time off as well. The group of you are heading to a cabin on Falcon Lake where you’re sure lots of partying will take place. You suggested getting farther away, but settled on the area in case Tyler’s sister goes into labour. He’s a very family oriented person and offered to watch his nephew when the time comes.

Four o’clock comes faster than you ever could have imagined, and you cheerfully wave goodbye to your co-workers. Some complain of your ability to leave during the busiest season of the year, but most of them wish you well. You put an immense amount of work into your job regardless of the quarter and know you deserve the break. If you don’t stop at the grocery store on your way you’ll be in trouble since you’re in charge of all the breakfasts and you currently only have a half-eaten loaf of bread that could go stale any day.

You’re in the cereal aisle, deciding whether or not you really need Honey Nut Cheerios for the trip, when you hear his unforgettable voice. It’s loud and booming and brings back so many feelings that you’ve learned to repress that you turn on your heel and head to the nearest self checkout despite only gathering half the items on your list.

Back in your car, you dial Rachel’s number and try to regulate your breathing.

“Hello?”

You don’t bother with any formalities. “Kevin is here.”

“In Winnipeg?” she asks, more than a tad confused. “Why would he be in Winnipeg?”

The interior of the Ford Escape you drive feels too small, so you crack a window and peel out of the parking space. Rachel’s voice reverberates throughout the car thanks to the bluetooth system. “I don’t fucking know, but he’s here.”

“I don’t think that’s possible Y/N,” Rachel says, always the realist. “He lives in Boston. What would he be doing in Winnipeg in the middle of July?”

You aren’t sure, and make sure to tell her so. “But it was him,” you swear. “He was in the grocery store.” You stop at a red light, placing your blinker on and checking both ways before turning right. A few more minutes and you’d be safely tucked away in your apartment, away from the world and the possibility of running into Kevin.

“There’s like a hundred tall gingers in the city babe, you didn’t see him.”

“You’re right, I didn’t see him,” you agree. “I heard him. How many tall gingers are there in Winnipeg with Boston accents?”

“Oh fuck. I’m coming over.” With that, Rachel hangs up, and you pull into the parking garage. You sit in silence for a minute or two before deciding your shaking legs can hold you upright. Perhaps you weren’t as over Kevin as you thought.

Rachel spends the rest of the afternoon and evening with you, ensuring you don’t do anything stupid and letting you spew all your feelings, both good and bad. More than one bottle of wine is consumed, but you have more than enough time to nurse a hangover. If you play your cards right through the week this won’t be the only time you do it either.

You wake up on top of your pristine sheets, Rachel grumbling beside you – she’s never been as good at holding her alcohol.

“What time is it?”

The alarm clock on your bedside table flashes a few numbers and you have to stare at them for a minute before you comprehend them. “Just after eight,” you say, sitting up. Surprisingly, you feel fine. Maybe the crippling weight of your feelings for Kevin cancels out the hangover you most definitely should be feeling.

“We need to get going. Gotta pack the car and hit the road. I’m the one who needs to get the keys so we have to be there before everyone else,” she sighs, grumbling something else under her breath as her feet hit the floor.

You just laugh at her and head into the kitchen. While Rachel showers you make coffee and pack the food into the ancient cooler your father gave you when you moved out many moons ago. It has served its purpose on several trips like this – you’ll be sad to see it go eventually. You switch places with Rachel, and once you’re feeling refreshed the two of you stuff your trunk and hit the road.

The drive is rather uneventful, with the both of you sitting in silence, and it doesn’t take you long to approach your destination. Rachel is a poor navigator so you’re tasked with figuring out where you’re going and making sure you get there, but it could be worse. You have a general sense of where you’re going. Getting the keys is painless and you get to work unpacking your overloaded SUV.

“Do you think there will be other people around we can party with?” Rachel asks as you close the trunk for the last time.

You shrug. “Don’t know Rach. It doesn’t look like it.”

She drops it, agreeing with you, and you separate to unpack your personal belongings. The cabin is large enough that no one has to share a room, which you’re grateful for. Though you love your friends dearly, they don’t always know what personal space is. At some point in the afternoon the rest of the group trickles in, and by dinner you’ve all settled and are ready to party.

Tyler figures out how to use the ancient barbeque and sets to work cooking the burgers. Everyone else gets side dishes ready or sets the table, with Christine starting a bonfire. You don’t know her well, only having met her a few times, but your friend seems to be infatuated with her. She fits in great with the group so you aren’t worried about any awkward tension. Dinner passes in a fit of giggles and shouts, and once the dishes are done you can relax fully.

The beer you grab from the fridge on your way out the door makes your insides fuzzy in the best way possible. By the fire, surrounded by those who care about you the most, you feel at peace. You’re yet to think about the sudden reappearance of Kevin in Winnipeg, and you’d like to keep it that way. Someone grabs the beat up acoustic guitar you found in the living room and thrusts it in your direction. You’d taught yourself to play in college, and it comes in handy for times like this.

“I refuse to play Wonderwall,” you laugh, shooting pointed looks at each and every person sitting around you.

“Come on Y/N,” Rachel groans. “Just once?”

“Fuck off.”

You don’t mean it, of course, and strum the opening chords with a grimace on your face. Tyler counts everyone in and they sing for you, which is appreciated. You might be decent at playing, but your singing voice is one that shouldn’t see the light of day if it can be helped. It’s more fun than you imagined it could be so one song turns into three, and before you know it your makeshift jamboree attracts the attention of the neighbours you didn’t know existed.

Applause erupts from behind you, and you flush enough that your cheeks warm significantly. “You guys are so good I hate to disrupt the rhythm,” a deep voice says, “But do you mind if a buddy and I join you? We’re a little lonely by ourselves next door.”

Tyler’s out of his seat in a heartbeat, jumping up to pat the man on the back. “Of course man, come on over! I’m Tyler, and that’s Rachel, Christine, Marshall, and Y/N.”

You all wave politely, and the mystery guest introduces himself. “Nice you meet you guys. I’m Nolan.”

It’s then you get a good look at who you’re speaking to. He seems to be a few years younger than you, maybe early twenties, and he has a face you just can’t place. Maybe you’ve seen him around Winnipeg – the city is small enough that you can often spot the same faces in a crowd. “I’ll just yell at him to come over and we can get the party started,” Nolan explains, “Kev, bud, come on over! And bring a couple beers.”

All the blood rushes from your fingers at the name. You shake them intensely, willing your circulatory system to function properly again. If you had to hazard a guess there’s probably a million people in Manitoba named Kevin. There’s no reason for it to be Kevin Hayes. You’re most certainly still spooked from your near encounter with him yesterday.

“Fuck Patty, you couldn’t come back and grab your own?” the emerging figure grumbles in the vocal stylings you’ll have imprinted on your heart until your dying day. Kevin is here, and if you don’t leave in the next few seconds you’ll be face to face with him for the first time in over a year.

You stand abruptly, not stopping to explain your hasty exit to anyone, and practically run into the house. The door slams behind you and you do your best to make your heart rate return to normal. Tyler shouts something you can’t quite comprehend, but you know it’s probably some sort of reconnection greeting. He’d met Kevin a couple of times while the two of you were together and had gotten along with him well.

“Hey,” Rachel whispers, “You good?”

You hadn’t heard her come in. “Not really,” you admit. “I mean like I knew he was in town but never in a million years did I think he’d crash my fucking vacation.”

She nods in agreement. “What do you want to do?”

“Stay in here forever?” An eye roll is sent your way but you choose to ignore it. “I’m serious Rach, I can’t go back out there, at least not tonight. Every time I think I’m over him he finds a way to make me realize I’m just faking.”

“I know,” Rachel says simply. She really does – as your best friend she’s privy to your every thought on the matter. After making sure that you'll be okay she heads back outside, armed with an excuse for your early departure.

You spend the rest of the night tucked under the covers, listening to the laughter of your friends outside, no doubt in your mind that Kevin is the source for most of it. He’s always been good at commanding an audience. Thoughts swim freely in your brain, most of them occupied by Kevin in some capacity. Was tonight just a one off? Will you have to eventually face him? What will you say? Eventually sleep comes, though it’s fitful and fleeting.

☼☼☼☼

You do your best to avoid Kevin, and it works for a day or two. Tyler has stricken up a friendship with the athlete, and spends more time with him and Nolan than your group. You don’t mind all that much because they typically are out on Nolan’s boat or lounging in their cabin, but every night the group reconvenes at your firepit. The excuses are starting to run out – there’s only so many times you can say you have heat exhaustion before someone stops believing you.

“Y/N, Kevin hasn’t even mentioned you,” Tyler whines one night after dinner. “It won’t be awkward. We only have a few days left, please spend time with us?”

“I’m spending plenty of time with you,” you grumble. “You promise he won’t say anything?”

Tyler shoots you a smile that lets you know he knows that he’s broken down your resolve. “Why would he? If he was going to do it he would have already.”

You aren’t sure if that makes you feel better or worse. You’re glad he’s faring better than you, but on the other hand you wish he’d at least make an effort to inquire into your well-being. Maybe it was simply proof that you were still holding onto something that didn’t mean much of anything. Eventually you’d have to face the music, whether it be with Kevin or someone in the future, so you make the decision to try and at least get used to seeing former flames in social settings.

“You’re rolling my joints tonight asshole,” you grumble, shoving your sock clad feet into a pair of worn out sandals.

There’s a small commotion, mostly in excitement at your begrudging agreement, and you roll your eyes as you grab what is destined to be your first of many beers from the fridge. Rachel slides up beside you on the way out the door and squeezes your hand, letting you know she’s ready to support you no matter what happens. It’s comforting, and the nerves in your stomach settle a small amount.

Marshall is already outside, helping Nolan start the fire. They seem to be extremely similar and you’re glad they can seek each other out when the rest of the group gets too rambunctious. The rest of your party filters out of the house and takes up residence in the adirondack chairs. Kevin doesn’t appear to be around, so you allow yourself to speak freely, loud and unabashed.

“No I’m telling you,” you insist, trying to convince Nolan your stance on Jack Antonoff is correct. “Jack is literally responsible for reinventing pop production.”

He laughs at how into the conversation you are. “Why the fuck should I care?”

“Because you fucking listen to Lorde!”

Someone else is laughing along with you and it nearly stops you in your tracks. At some point Kevin had joined the party, but you hadn’t noticed. Knowing that he was listening makes you suddenly self conscious, and you wrap your sweater tighter around your shoulders. Nolan can tell you’re uncomfortable and does his best to relieve the tension.

“Kev, do you wanna run back and grab the weed?” he asks.

The auburn haired man pulls a baggie out of his hoodie pocket. “Got it right here baby cat,” he grins. “And it’s ready to go. You got a light?”

Nolan tosses him the lighter and Kevin expertly puts the joint between his parted lips. He lets the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling, and you watch him more intently than you should. You’re thrown back to the memories of Kevin’s apartment downtown, where you’d smoke in content silence after a night of passionate sex. The scenes flash in your mind and you’re overcome with melancholia. You had been so happy in the moment, and now you’re in a similar situation but feel nothing. Other than sharing in your laughter, Kevin is yet to say anything to you.

You must have been lost in your thoughts, because Kevin is staring at you with a quizzical expression. “Y/N? Do you want a hit?”

It takes you a second to snap out of your daze, but to cautiously take the lit joint from his hand. “Thank you Kevin,” you say, voice timid. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him since he left Winnipeg for the first time.

He shoots you a dazzling smile and your insides threaten to turn to mush. No matter how hard you’ve tried to convince yourself you over him, that you’ve moved on from Kevin, you know you’re wrong. Kevin Hayes will have some sort of hold on you until you die. To distract yourself from the overwhelming amount of emotion you inhale deeply, hoping that the buzz smoking will bring can clear your mind. You really don’t want to think about what you lost when he’s right in front of you.

The three of you sit in silence, passing the joint in a circle, and listen to the conversation your friends are engaged in. Marshall ropes Nolan into a game of cornhole and he goes begrudgingly. As he stands he sends you a sympathetic look, and you know that he’s familiar with your history with Kevin. It doesn’t surprise you – Kevin isn’t exactly one to keep secrets.

“So,” Kevin says once it’s just the two of you, “How have you been?”

You do your best to swallow the lump in your throat. “I’ve been good. Work has been crazy lately, so this break has been really nice.”

He presses, and you indulge him in a conversation about your new job, though it can barely be considered that now. Everything is surface level – you’re afraid of letting Kevin in too much. Though your fling may have been brief, it didn’t make his departure or the lack of contact any easier. He tells you about his life in Philadelphia and how much he loves it there. Before you can stop yourself, you ask him a loaded question.

“Do you like it more than Winnipeg?”

Kevin falters. It takes both of you a moment to process what you said. Not one to lie, he answers truthfully. “Yeah.” It comes out in a sort of deflated sigh. “But I miss –”

“Don’t say it,” you rush, trying hard to keep your voice down. “You don’t mean it.”

An embittered huff comes from him, and you watch carefully as he peels the worn ball cap off his head and tugs on his curls. “I do,” he insists. “I absolutely miss you.”

You no longer care who can hear you. “If you missed me, you would have texted. Called. Anything,” you say cooly. Everyone else has clued in to the fact that something is going on between you and Kevin, and have migrated inside in an attempt to give you privacy.

“I did. You’re the one who said it wasn’t a good idea to see each other again.”

“Because it had been over half a year!” you shriek. “And it had been radio silence before then. You left Kevin, and I’m not blaming you. I know it’s your job. But you left and it was so fucking hard, and it stung because you didn’t even try. So when you hit me up after that game I knew I had to say no. Because no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I’m still so in love with you that if you asked I’d uproot my life and follow you to Philly. I don’t want to be that girl.”

The outburst leaves you gasping for breath. Never before had you spilled heartache so fast – with a sort of reckless abandon. Anytime you’ve had these types of conversations you’ve been calm and collected. You’re currently the farthest thing from it.

Kevin’s expression softens, and a sadness fills his eyes. “I was scared,” he begins, “Because for the first time in my life I was with someone I could see spending the rest of my life with. Sure, we weren’t serious, but I was going to take it there. Then I got traded and the plans I had went to shit and I was too scared to do anything about it. So I let you slip away.”

Silence fills the space between you. You don’t know what to say, so you focus on unraveling the loose thread from the hem of your cardigan. Kevin shuffles in his seat awkwardly. “Where do we, uh, go from here?”

The question shocks you. To the best of your understanding, you had made it perfectly clear where your relationship was headed. “Nowhere,” you breathe. “You head back to Philly, meet another girl, and fall in love. I stay here, do my job, and learn to be content with myself.”

“There’s no room for us in your little plan?”

“We’ve run our course Kev. As much as I still love you, will always love you, we’re too fundamentally different for us both to really be happy in a relationship. You have to know that.”

He nods. “I do.” With that, Kevin rises from the chair, gives you a sad smile, and leaves. You assume he’s calling it a night, and you wish to do the same. Finally having that conversation was exhausting and all you want to do is sleep for the next twelve hours.

☼☼☼☼

The rest of the trip passes without you seeing Kevin again. He and Nolan left early the morning after your conversation, and you do your best to enjoy yourself. Part of your brain makes you believe you’re the reason they left, though Tyler tells you otherwise. No one asks about what happened between you two, not even Rachel, and you return to the city determined to start anew. Eventually you break the cycle of obsessing over Kevin’s stats, and take it upon yourself to unfollow him on social media. Life goes on.

Things never really get easier. You still find yourself grieving the loss of Kevin, late at night when you can’t sleep, but are confident in your decision to say goodbye for good. Time heals everything, and eventually you’ll be okay.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe @iwantahockeyhimbo if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

#kevin hayes imagine #kevin hayes x reader #kevin hayes fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites #hiiapl

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myfearless-love · 3 years

Text

The Wildest Place You Run (8/?) - A Nice Trip

The next chapter is up with a little more insight into Killian's past, hopefully answering some of the questions (or maybe creating more?).

Huge thank you to everyone who commented, reblogged, liked the previous chapters! Also thank you to my beta and artist @thejollyroger-writer for helping with correcting my mistakes and making this amazing art!

Summary:

Vampires, Werewolves, Mages, and Elves. For centuries, they kept their existence a secret, but the constant rebellions against the strict laws of the Guild had led to a terrible tragedy. In an open clash, it became apparent to humans just what kind of monsters lived among them. Emma Swan loses the love of her life in the first battle of the war. A few months later, while still trying to process what happened, a mysterious and terrifying figure worms his way into her life. But the man is hiding far more terrible secrets than he reveals to her, pulling them both into a horrible situation...

Chapter: 8/? - A Nice Trip

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Rating: M

Relationships: Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Read on: FF.net or AO3

Words: ~5.5k

Previous parts:

Ch 1 II Ch 2 II Ch 3 II Ch 4 II Ch 5 II Ch 6 II Ch 7

It took a while for the dreams to cloud her mind as she slipped into unconsciousness. Her shoulder was still throbbing and the events of the day played a loop in her brain. A few hours later, she woke up surprisingly relaxed and relatively refreshed. She allowed herself an hour to just lie motionless on the bed, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t know what was waiting for her that day. The usual languid calm was gone.

She climbed out of bed and decided to find a bathroom and then the kitchen. She wasn’t ready to face the day’s problem until she’d a cup of coffee. But no sooner had she set foot on the floor, the door suddenly slid open. Ruby wasted no time knocking, she simply barged into the room as if she’d owned the place.

“Good, you’re awake! We’re leaving.” Her words came quickly as she gestured urgently towards the door.

“Where are we going?” Emma asked, getting up from the bed slower than usual with her shoulder still aching.

“To your house,” Ruby nodded, smiling at her. “Get your stuff and pack some things for David too. You can change at your apartment if you want, but you’ll have to hurry because we’re going to Leo’s funeral after that. And then back here. It would be best if you took everything you wanted from home, because you won’t be returning anytime soon.”

“Great.”

-/-

“Why am I the one going with him?” Emma stared blankly at Ruby’s smiling face. It was a mystery to her why the brunette was in such a good mood. Emma didn’t feel like grinning at all, especially now that it turned out she was going to be alone with Killian again. Of course, David had no idea. If he did know, he’d surely have an aneurysm.

“It was pure fate,” Ruby said with a shrug, but Emma could see she was hiding something.

She didn’t want to argue with her, so she left it at that. But Ruby couldn’t seem to let the subject go. “Why are you so against him?” she inquired cautiously as they climbed the stairs to the first floor that led to the crumbling wooden house.

“I’m not, I just don’t understand. I thought David’s drama queen behavior yesterday would have kept him from having anything to do with me.”

“The decision on matters like this isn’t up to Killian, or even David. It’s all the Council,” Ruby explained.

“Oh, how I’d love to meet them one day,” Emma remarked, grudgingly, multiplying her steps as she followed Ruby, who was still grinning like a Cheshire cat.

It was terribly cold upstairs. Emma was only wearing her sweater from yesterday and was already chattering her teeth as she rubbed her arms, trying to warm herself up a bit.

When they reached the clearing, she noticed at least a dozen motorcycles and twice that many cars parked there. She had no idea if they’d all been brought here under the cover of the night, or if they’d been hiding around here all along. Looking around, she immediately spotted the black Porsche. It actually wasn’t hard to spot, nor was the talk, dark figure lurking beside the vehicle.

Killian seemed unaffected by the cold. His hair was ruffled by the light breeze (or by his fingers running through it), and he was also forgoing his usual eyeliner today, which made his face look younger. He was wearing a simple black shirt and his favorite leather jacket.

“Be at the cemetery by two in the afternoon, and get back here by four at the latest. Don’t wait until it gets dark, for everyone’s sake.”

“Will do,” Killian nodded, stubbing out his cigarette, which Emma just noticed, on the outside mirror without hesitation.

“Have a nice trip!” Ruby waved at them, then walked after Robin and Mary Margaret.

“Ready to go?” Killian hid his hands carelessly in his pockets and stared at her expectantly. Was he seriously going to wait for her approval now?

“Yeah,” she sighed.

This is not going to be fun.

-/-

To her surprise, they made their way to the apartment in not-so-uncomfortable silence. She didn’t know what to say as she stuffed her ham sandwich into her mouth and Killian remained stubbornly silent. She was sure his mind was on their “conversation” from yesterday, too. Which, well, let’s face it, had been pretty interesting.

“Be ready no later than half-past two,” was his first sentence after they got out of the car.

“You’re going to help, too,” she announced. “We’ll be done quicker if you help with packing up David’s stuff.”

“As you wish.” He didn’t comment on her instruction, so Emma showed him David’s room and the bathroom, loaded her brother’s suitcases and bags onto his bed, and left Killian to his task.

She made her way upstairs and began packing up everything she might need with heavy movements. Of course, she had a hard time packing all her things into her bags, she didn’t want to leave anything in her room. She really wanted to take her favorite books, her ancient boombox she’d gotten from David, and every trinket that held precious memories for her. However, she had to realize that was pretty much overkill. She probably wouldn’t even have enough room for her things, let alone time to actually read books.

Eventually, she felt compelled to put a few things back on the shelves, including the boombox, of course. It was already quarter past two when she finally finished packing and headed to the bathroom. She only wanted to take a look at her reflection, but the sight that greeted her made her pause.

Her face was paler than usual, the remnants of her black eyeshadow around her eyes complemented by dark circles under them didn’t look particularly attractive. Her hair almost resembled a crow’s nest, her clothes were dirty, bloody, and torn in places. Honestly, she looked like a survivor of a zombie apocalypse. Which, when she thought about it, wasn’t that far from the truth.

Grimacing, she turned away from the mirror, quickly ridding herself of her clothes, and climbing into the shower with boundless relief as the warm water hit her tired skin. Carefully, she peeled the bandage from her shoulder and was glad to see that she didn’t need stitches. Only five smaller, circular, red wounds adorned her collarbone and shoulder. At first glance, they didn’t look like serious injuries, but she knew — and felt — that they were deep.

She quickly washed her hair as well and finished as quickly as she could, not wanting to test Killian’s patience. As soon as she was done, she wrapped a towel around her body and hurried to her room to get the hairdryer she had already packed in one of her gym bags. It would do her good to think ahead sometimes…

She rummaged in the bag that was next to the door, but of course, the damned device was hidden away well. She cursed under her breath and ripped open the zipper of her last bag as the door slammed open, connecting with her hip head-on.

She yelped more in surprise than pain. She had just enough presence of mind to reach for the towel slipping off her body, but she lost her balance and landed on her ass.

“Did no one teach you to knock?” she growled in annoyance.

“Apologies, but I didn’t think I’d find you dressed only in a towel,” he retorted, glancing impatiently at his watch.

But then he walked over to her and reached for her hand to help her up. She considered refusing him for a few seconds, but then she deemed it unnecessary to continue being hostile and grabbed his offered hand.

This time, there was no unbearable headache to warn her as she glided through space and time. She simply found herself under the open sky without any of the uncomfortable transitions a vision usually entails.

The sun burned bright and hot; it was a sultry summer day. The air was stuffy, not even a slight breeze was blowing through the air. At first, it seemed to Emma that she was standing in a playground, but in the background, the image of a school with at least hundreds of students unfolded before her. She turned her head in wonder, for the children’s clothing was clearly reminiscent of the late nineties.

No one noticed her, so she was sure she had just stumbled into another vision. A girl in a towel appearing out of nowhere would have been quite the sensation, but they were not just looking through her, they were walking right over her body too.

She didn’t understand any of this, she had no idea what to look for. She whirled around the courtyard, trying to figure out why she had gotten here. Soon, a calling of a name broke through the dull fog of shock.

“Hey, Killian! What’re you doing?”

Emma immediately spun around and turned in the direction of the voice, but saw only a completely unfamiliar, short, and dark blonde boy. He couldn’t have been older than twelve. His flashy red leotard stretched over his stomach with dark spots down the front. His jeans were already worn and a little too short for his legs, with patches of green grass staining the knees.

He scurried toward a sullen, skinny boy sitting alone on the back of one of the benches, staring off into the distance. Panting, the blond came to a halt in front of the other and braced his hands on his hips. His bloated, freckled, but lovely face glistened with drops of sweat.

“Killian, why don’t you come play?”

Emma stared wide-eyed at the boy skulking on the bench. Was this Killian? He didn’t look any older than fourteen or fifteen, either, but his gaze was almost as unsetting as it would be twenty years later.

His hair was longer than it was now in the present, tied behind his head with a rubber ring. His slightly worn Pearl Jam t-shirt was much larger than his torso, his jeans were worn and torn — but not for the sake of fashion. The soles of his sneakers were about to come off the dirty shoes.

“Aren’t you coming?” the blonde repeated.

Killian didn’t answer, just stared unflinchingly at the school’s iron gate. “No, Kristoff. Not now,” he shook his head, and his voice, unusually deep for a kid of his age (and size), caused Emma another surprise.

“You’re waiting for Milah, right?” Kristoff looked at Killian sympathetically, and Emma’s ears perked up at the name.

Maybe now she could figure out who Milah was to him.

Killian turned his head to Kristoff with an impatient sigh. “If you already know, why even ask?”

The other boy just shrugged, leaving Killian’s question unanswered. He settled down next to him on the bench. “Killian, come on! You can’t sit here all day! You know she’s not coming anyway.” Kristoff shook his head and glanced sadly at Killian with his big, piercing blue eyes.

“She will!” Killian’s hand clenched into a fist, his eyes flashed. “She promised,” he added a little more quietly, and Emma moved closer to the two of them, so as not to miss a word.

“It doesn’t matter. Her father won’t let her anyway. Our last class is about to begin, Killian! I’m sure…”

Before he could finish the sentence, the school bell started to ring. Kristoff immediately jumped up from the bench as the sea of students moved towards the main entrance of the building.

“We’re going to be late!” Kristoff shifted his weight impatiently, but Killian didn’t even move, staring fixedly at the school gate.

“We are,” Killian finally nodded, picking up his bag that had been lying next to the bench.

It was a dark green, awkwardly patched, worn backpack. It was quite dirty with dust and sand, but Killian didn’t seem to care.

“My mother will kill me if I’m late…” Kristoff turned pale, blinking more and more nervously across the slowly emptying courtyard.

“Go to class, Kris,” Killian smiled, then picked up his bag on his shoulder and hurried to the school gate.

“Killian! Stop! What are you doing?” Scared out of his wits, Kristoff ran after Killian.

He grabbed him by the arm and turned the older boy to face him with a forceful jerk.

“I’m going to Milah’s,” Killian shook Kristoff’s’ arm off.

“No! You’ve gone mad! Your parents will… oh, there’ll be nothing left of you if Milah’s father sees you there! I thought that scar on your arm would have been a good reminder of that.”

“I’m not afraid of her father,” Killian laughed. His voice was husky and mocking. Emma knew very well where his confidence came from.

Elven blood.

He could easily handle a grown man, no matter how big or muscular he was.

“You can’t go there! Even Milah told you that!” insisted Kristoff.

“I don’t care.” Killian shook his head and headed for the gate again.

Kristoff stared after him for a while, panting, apparently unable to decide what to do. “Killian, wait! I’ll get my bag…”

The little blond boy slipped off in the direction of the school building. Killian, meanwhile, settled himself at the entrance and, to Emma’s small shock, lit a cigarette. If she could’ve, she’d have flicked it out of his fingers. He was too young for that sort of thing.

However, when she took a closer look, she saw that his hands were shaking, he seemed quite nervous, and his appearance, as well as his manners, made him seem much older.

“Uh… Humph! We can go!” Kristoff gasped as he finally reached Killian, more specifically through her spirit body.

She’d never get used to that.

“You really don’t have to come. It won’t be...without risk,” Killian admitted, and Emma believed that only she understood what he meant.

He could defend himself, but he couldn’t split himself in half and be there with Kristoff all the way. And if the boy wasn’t in his immediate vicinity, Killian couldn’t guarantee his safety.

“Come on!” Kristoff waved. “I want to come!”

“Suit yourself,” Killian nodded, rising from the parched ground. He dusted off his jeans, which Emma thought was completely unnecessary, and walked with quick steps to the side of the road.

“You really have a crush on her, don’t you?” Kristoff seemed to have quickly gotten over the trauma and aftermath of missing school. He stared at Killian with a grin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Killian shook his head and blew out the smoke with relish.

“Well, about Milah, who else?” Kristoff waited anxiously for Killian’s answer, but it didn’t come.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Killian glared at the younger boy.

“You don’t have to deny it! I saw you both out in the meadow by the bunker yesterday,” he reported with a triumphant smile, and to Emma’s surprise, he achieved the desired effect; Killian’s cheeks and the tips of his ears turned the color of tomatoes.

“What the bloody hell were you doing there?” His eyes widened in shock, and he quickened his steps almost unconsciously.

“Well, I was just going to the bunker because I left my sweater somewhere and I thought it was there.” Kristoff shrugged, his mouth still twisting into a smile. “But in the end, I found something completely different there,” he chuckled.

Killian narrowed his eyes.

“But I was far enough away, I didn’t see everything!” Kristoff added hastily.

“Wonderful,” Killian growled, scowling at his friend. “What did you see?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it,” Kristoff clasped his hands behind his back and whistled softly as he stared up at the completely cloudless sky.

Emma had to admit, she was starting to like this kid, Kristoff. The little rascal knew how to get a rise out of Killian, and it was strange to see such strong emotion on his face.

“You’re starting to get on my nerves, lad,” Killian hissed.

Kristoff grinned wickedly at him and just shrugged. “Did you kiss her properly? Like in the movies?” He eagerly watched Killian’s every move.

“Aye,” Killian coughed, then watched with a forgiving smile as Kristoff punched the air with a loud cheer.

“And what else did you do?” Kristoff almost climbed into Killian’s face.

“Never mind that, you’re too young for that,” Killian grinned, blowing the smoke in Kristoff’s face who leaned away from him, coughing.

“Stinking shit-face!” he groaned, gasping for air.

“Vouyer rat!” snarled Killian back playfully

They walked along the road in silence for a few minutes and then soon turned onto a narrow, weedy dirt road. They were in a small rural town that Emma was unfamiliar with.

“I’d never dare kiss Anna,” Kristoff confessed shyly.

“Well, I wouldn’t either,” Killian laughed hoarsely, and hearing his voice, Emma wondered how long he’d been smoking.

“Are you making fun of me?” Kristoff raised an eyebrow in offense, but Killian just shook his head.

“Anna would talk your ear off before you could even reach her lips. Don’t you think she’s a little hyperactive?”

“Maybe... But she’s still the prettiest one in the class.”

“That’s one thing,” Killian waved it off, then tossed the cigarette away and stomped on it carefully.

“But still beautiful!”

“And a chatterbox,” Killian said, shaking his head.

“Does it matter? At least there’s no awkward silence.”

“Then it really doesn’t matter,” Killian laughed again.

It was weird to Emma to listen to this conversation as she slipped invisibly behind the two of them. Killian... There was just no way he was only like fourteen. She had no idea what could have happened to him, but a normal boy his age wasn’t like him.

After a good twenty-minute walk, the hundred-degree weather made it almost impossible to wring the sweat from Kristoff’s and Killian’s t-shirts.

“Do you really go out here every day?” Kristoff growled as he wiped his brow. “At least slow down a little!”

“I don’t come out here every day, her father would really kill me. Besides, we’re not far away, their house is just around the corner,” Killian replied.

Nearby, the grass was yellow from the drought, and the road was pure dust beneath their feet.

“And what’re you going to tell her?” Kristoff asked.

“I don’t know,” Killian lowered his head. “We’ll see.”

“Is it really true that her father is crazy? I’ve heard all kinds of things about him, but I couldn’t decide if it was true.”

“He is,” Killian said in a lowered voice. “One minute he was completely calm and quite friendly, and then suddenly he got angry, howling and lashing out at the things closest to him. He’s already been treated in a mental hospital, and he has also been in prison several times…”

-/-

The large but rather old-fashioned residential building included an old barracks. Several dogs were roaming around in the company of a few cats around the porch. The platform of the rusty van in the backyard was already packed, and a burly, shirtless man was in the process of dumping the rest of the suitcases onto the others.

He watched the boys’ arrival with keen eyes. He brushed his graying hair out of his forehead and stared expectantly at Killian and Kristoff with his hands on his hips. Sweat glistened in droplets on his exposed skin, his large beer belly covered in dirt.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled unkindly. It was obvious from his expression that he was already on the verge of strangling the boys with his bare hands, but for some reason he controlled himself.

“I came to see Milah,” Killian replied confidently.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t have time for you, she’s packing right now. You’re in the way, we want to leave today!”

“Where are you going?” The confidence left Killian’s voice and was replaced by horror.

“We’re moving. We’re going back to England. It’ll be a better place for the girl!”

Emma could clearly see Killian’s face turning pale despite the blistering heat. His lips opened slightly and he stared at the man with widened eyes.

“Where… where’s Milah?” Killian’s hands clenched into fists again, trembling with rage, and at that moment Emma no longer feared for Killian’s safety, but rather for the man’s. If he couldn’t restrain himself, there would be trouble…

“I thought I told you to fuck off—”

“Killian!”

A girl’s stunned voice came from the direction of the barracks. She had long, dark brown hair that ended in wild curls, and her eyes were almost the same bluish-green shade as Emma’s. Emma immediately knew she was Milah.

The girl blinked at her father in alarm, then looked back at Killian.

“We’re leaving in half an hour. I don’t want to have to look for you, you know what we agreed on,” her father growled at her and set about securing the bags on the platform.

Milah sighed in relief and signaled for the two boys to follow her.

She led them into the kitchen. It was an immaculate room, but the cleanliness in no way made up for the deplorable sight of junk, old furniture, and weathered paint on the walls.

“Are you...really moving?” Killian didn’t sit down, and neither did Kristoff.

The blond preferred to slip quietly into the backyard, but Emma stayed in the kitchen, not feeling guilty for eavesdropping.

“Yes.” Milah didn’t look up at Killian.

He blinked in horror. “But why?” he snapped.

Milah flinched in fright and raised her eyes to him, almost pleadingly. “Stop yelling!” It wasn’t long before she began to cry.

“Apologies,” Killian soothingly walked up to the girl, wrapping his arms around her.

“I don’t want to leave, but Papa says nothing would become of me here. We’re moving to London and I’m going to attend an all girls school. Killian, I don’t want to leave!” she blurted out, desperately holding onto Killian’s worn t-shirt.

“You’re not going then,” he said firmly.

Milah laughed softly and leaned her head against his shoulder, smiling. “What’ve you got planned?”

“We’ll run away!”

Milah laughed even louder at his answer. “We can’t possibly! He would find us, and if he did…” she shuddered at the thought. “He would beat you up like never before…”

“He wouldn’t catch us, and you know it,” Killian grumbled heatedly, casting a startled glance outside, but Kristoff continued to pet every single animal outside and seemed to hear nothing of their conversation.

“We can’t run forever! Sooner or later we’ll get tired, especially if I’m there to slow you down.”

So Milah probably knew what Killian really was. That was interesting. Maybe she wasn’t a simple human either, that was why they were so close…

“I’ll hold out as long as it takes! He would never find us and…”

“And then what? What would we do after that? This is all foolish. When you think about it, maybe it’s best to walk away...”

“Pardon?” Killian froze at her words.

“Yesterday... He found out what we were doing in the meadow! Why do you think I’m wearing a sweater in this heat?”

“So you don’t want to see me anymore.” Killian let her go and took a step back.

“It’s not that! You’re more important to me than anything, but that’s not good. I’ve had enough, don’t you understand? I can’t take this anymore,” she raised her voice.

“Milah…” Killian’s gaze was desperate, almost pleading, watching her every move.

“What the hell is going on?” Milah’s father entered the kitchen, apparently having heard his daughter’s screaming.

“Nothing, Papa!” she replied immediately, perhaps a little too quickly.

“I let you say goodbye to my daughter, and this is how you thank me? You’re—”

“No!” Milah cried out, but her father was already marching toward Killian.

Emma couldn’t decide if she or Milah was more scared. The man didn’t care about Killian’s satisfied grin, he didn’t really know what it meant.

“He begged for hours to say goodbye to you today, I let him because we won’t be here by tomorrow. And he has the audacity to…”

“Papa, no!”

She wasn’t worried about Killian, she was worried about her father.

The man’s fist swung for Killian’s face, but a thin arm knocked the fist aside with unobtrusive speed, then Killian pushed the man back. Milah’s father fell onto the kitchen table, shattering two of its legs. The vase on the table hit the back of his head, making him even angrier, washing away his momentary shock. He jumped up, glaring at Killian, and gasped as Milah screamed deafeningly. She was already standing next to Killian, tugging at his arm in horror.

“Killian, no! Please, don’t do it! Calm down, don’t do it!”

But Killian paid her no mind. His vision seemed to be clouded, his arms tense.

“What the…?” Milah’s father blinked in confusion at the little boy, who’d just flung him away with one hand.

But nothing registered in Killian’s mind anymore, he was on the verge of losing his temper.

He pushed Milah away from him, and she hit the floor at the other end of the kitchen, knocking three chairs aside.

“You little shit! I’ll teach you a lesson!”

Milah’s father rummaged blindly in one of the boxes that stood next to the kitchen entrance. He managed to grab a knife with a blade at least twelve inches long.

Milah was lying dazed on the floor, Kristoff was about to run off into the woods, scared out of his wits as he witnessed what was going on in the house. Milah’s father scurried to Killian, and now for the first time, Emma recognized the terror in Killian’s eyes. She couldn’t really place it, because it was only a knife, and it wasn’t as if this mammoth of a man could inflict a wound on him that wouldn’t heal in ten minutes or so anyway.

Killian tried to back away, but his back hit the wall and his gaze searched for Milah. That much inattention was all the man needed. He grabbed Killian’s arm and jammed the blade into his stomach. Killian cried out and slid along the wall to the floor. Milah’s father didn’t seem to care. He scooped his only daughter into his arms and stormed out of the house. The van’s engine roared to life not long after.

Terrified, Emma knelt beside Killian, though she knew he would soon be healed and survive the ordeal. It was a horrible sight. He leaned to the side, not knowing if it was the pain or Milah’s departure that had brought tears to his blue eyes. He reached for the handle of the knife and yanked it out with a quick jerk. He groaned loudly and winced.

The knife fell from his grip and he bowed his head to the floor, his cheek resting on the cold tiles.

He had a hard time getting out of his loose t-shirt, but when he did, he pressed the garment to the wound. His chest and abdomen were snow-white, but his arms were tanned. All of his ribs were visible…

The bleeding wouldn’t subside, however, and the wound contracted. Killian soon lost consciousness, and the journey was over for Emma.

“Swan! Emma, answer me! Do you hear me? Bloody fuck!”

At first, she didn’t understand the words, they only gradually made sense and formed complete sentences. But it didn’t matter that she managed to comprehend what she was hearing, she couldn’t give an answer yet. Her head was pounding and she was having a hard time getting air into her lungs,

Something — or someone — was caressing her face, but she felt terribly cold. Goosebumps covered her body from head to toe, and then she was finally able to slowly open her eyes, and the first thing that flashed before her was Killian’s blurry face. She was still in her room, her open bags lying to her left.

Her head rested on his shoulder. He sat on the floor and she lay on his lap as he hugged her tightly.

“Are you okay, lass?” His concerned gaze searched her face, and he immediately pulled his fingers away from her cheek.

“I think so.” She nodded cautiously, then her head immediately flushed as she realized that she was still only wearing a towel.

“You’ve been unconscious for more than half an hour,” he said softly.

“Figures,” she mumbled with a nod, unable to take her eyes off his face.

She tried to recognize the sweet, broken little boy, but it was very hard to do so.

“A vision?” He still wouldn’t let go of her.

“Yeah, I think so,” she nodded again, unsure and still a bit disoriented.

She was ashamed to admit it to herself, but it felt good to be in Killian’s embrace. His anxious gaze and the reassurance of his arms around her filled her with a warmth she couldn’t explain.

“What did you see? You’ve gone pale,” Killian searched her face curiously, but she averted her eyes.

She wanted to know what had happened to him, what made him...what he was now. She was unable to put it into words.

Strange.

Special.

Kind of an old young person.

But she was afraid to ask, to dig into the past. She was scared it would open up wounds too deep and painful.

“Are you sure you want to know?” She sighed in resignation, knowing in advance what his answer would be. Reluctantly, she disentangled herself from his hold and rose from the floor, careful that the towel wouldn’t fall off her body. “Think about it.”

With that, she left him alone and marched into the bathroom. She rubbed her half-wet hair with another clean towel, no longer needing a hairdryer. As she dressed, she suddenly remembered why they’d been in such a hurry earlier.

“Killian! The funeral!” The door was nearly ripped out of its frame as she stormed out of the bathroom.

“We already missed it, Swan,” he sighed. “I talked to David, they know what happened. When they’re done, they’ll come straight here.”

“Oh…” She’d wanted to be there for Leo and she’d blown it with her stupid ability to see visions.

Killian was still cross-legged on the floor. He watched her, curiosity shining in his aquamarine eyes. “We still have some time before then, so why don’t you tell me what you saw?”

“All right,” she said, sitting down beside him. “But first, I want to ask you a few questions.”

“So my suspicions were correct. The vision was about me,” he said, frowning.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Tell me, who exactly Milah is?

Killian’s eyes widened in shock and she could see he wanted to jump up and leave, but she held his arm before he could do so. He almost pulled her up with him, but finally relented and sat back down.

Killian glared at her with his familiar, expressionless poker face. He tried to barricade himself away.

“Killian, don’t do this…”

“This is none of your business,” he said sharply.

His voice trembled with suppressed anger. But Emma could also see confusion and terror. “Tell me who she is. You always clam up when I want to talk to you about...well, you.”

“Swan, don’t, please.”

“See? You’re doing it right now!” she poked him in the chest with her finger.

“I hate talking about my past," he shook his head.

“Have you actually tried?” she raised an eyebrow.

He grimaced and shook his head again.

“Killian, I want to understand you. And I want to know what happened to you.”

“Why would you care about a repulsive beast like me?”

She knew it was inappropriate, but she couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of her. Killian, repulsive, and beast? Those three words were completely different things in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, but none of those apply to you,” she chuckled, feeling a tear leave her eye.

“No? Because that’s what people usually call me,” he hissed angrily.

“At first glance, your appearance and manners don’t exactly scream trustworthiness,” she remarked, still smiling. “But you only pretend not to be.

“Maybe because that’s how it is, and you’re the one who’s wrong. Have you ever thought about that?”

“No. And you’re wrong. Now answer my question,” she’s starting to feel like an interrogator.

“You don’t know me, Swan. You know nothing about me, and that’s the only reason you dare to be alone in a room with me.”

Then he jumped up from the floor and marched out the door.

Perhaps she’d succeeded in opening a more painful wound than she’d first intended. At that moment, she felt like a pathetic fool. Because let’s face it, tact wasn’t exactly her strong suit.

#cs ff #captain swan #cssns21 #cssns 2021 #captain swan ff #emma swan #killian jones #captain hook #thejollyroger writer #ouat #ouat ff #once upon a time #captain swan supernatural #my fic #TWPYR #cs fanfiction #captain swan fanfic #emma x killian

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poptod · 3 years

Text

The Breeding Kings, pt. 6 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: A decision is made.

Notes: my brain feels like alcoholic sour cream WC: 5.5k

"They carry out a man."

"Did you see his face?"

"No," you murmured, "but I know who he is."

Ahkmen knew what was coming. The disappearance of the blacksmith hadn't been a major pointer on his mind, since he hadn't formed any sort of relationship with the man, but it was a point of curiosity. His concern rested chiefly on you, but he would listen to any word you spoke.

"Who is he?" He asked.

"The iron man," you said. "His long black hair, and hungry, and he was.. talking in a way I can not understand. Asking for..."

"... mercy?"

"I think, yes," you said with a nod. You then shifted between the bedsheets, stretching with a yawn. "He was not coming back."

"You just saw him get carried away and he never came bacK?" Ahk clarified, frowning.

"Yes."

He hated to say it, but it sounded an awful lot like they executed the blacksmith. If his and Piye's instincts were right, then the palace officials had tried to extract the secret of ironworking, and quite unsuccessfully. Your story (which was, of course, a tastefully edited version of what had really taken place) convinced him that while you might've known ironworking techniques, that was not what you were arrested for. It was not far from the truth, and you could think of no reason to inform him otherwise.

"You know I must leave," you said, your eyes flickering to every feature of the face before you, blushing with the warmth of the heavy covers.

"Good Gods, not yet, right?" He said with a growing horror in his expression.

"No, I will bring my things," you chuckled softly. "But not long. In not long I will go."

The sunlight coming through the one window in the tiny room was white, shrouded in layers of clouds that hung heavy over the morning sky. Most of the blankets surrounding you were a similar white, tainted with the natural yellow of reeds used to make such fabrics, but unnoticeable when the consciousness is absorbed in the face of another.

"Where will you go?" Ahkmen asked, biting his lower lip nervously.

"I go back to Harappa."

"What if the King there is even worse? You did say you left soon after he seized control."

"Then I go again. Walk to find a new city."

"How long will that take, though? It's hard to survive alone in this world, trust me," he said, urging himself not to reach out to you. Not to touch you.

"And when I stay here, your King will see me and take me again. It is.. I must take one road, and I want the road that is made by me. Not by a King and his... dirty soldiers," you said, your expression twisting with the bitterness those words brought to your tongue.

"Yogasundari, you'll die out there," he insisted.

"I will die here too! We will all die to death!" You pushed up to sit on the bed, your back to the wall as your knees rose to your chest. "I want to be living free. And – and if you be so scared, you come with me to make me safe."

Words died stillborn at your suggestion. He stared, unsure of what to make of himself and you, and remained silent for a good while. Egypt was a place he adored––the rules were a little strange, but he was fortunate enough to be a prince. Never once had he thought to leave the Nile, its' black shores and the figs and dates of royal gardens. The daunting halls of alabaster was all he ever thought to want, intricate hieroglyphs carved into every available surface, his friends and his, albeit absent, family.

He stared at the ceiling. Egypt was his home. Where he belonged. But you were crying, and this wouldn't be something he could never return from. It may take several years, but he would come back, and he would work to make Egypt a place you would want to be, as well. For now, Memphis was an inhospitable city to you, and you were forced to leave for your own safety. Either he went with you, or you went on your own.

"I'll go with you," he decided with finality, meeting your eye only after he spoke the words.

Your mouth hung open, taken aback by his choice.

"Really? Yes?" You said, your shocked expression turning into a giddy grin.

"Just to keep you safe. Think of me as a bodyguard."

"A.. a what?"

"Bodyguard. It's like a soldier but for one person."

"Ohh, I have a pretty Egyptian soldier!" You laughed, slipping off the bed but kneeling at it's side, facing Ahk with your arms outstretched to his side of the bed. "You have my life. Thanks many."

"Of course. I'll see you to somewhere safe, and twenty years from then I'll come get you again. By then I'll have this city in working order," he said with a chuckle, feeling his own giddiness at your comment.

"I know you, and you do," you said, which he surmised to mean something along the lines of, "I know you will".

"I need to get my things, you understand," he said.

"Yes, yes, I know, I get my things as you do," you said with a dismissive hand. "I see you here in the day's end?"

"No. It's too dangerous for you. I'll go get your things," he said, climbing out of bed. "You don't need to worry about anything, alright?"

"But you know no things on my house. You will – will get bad things," you stammered as you rose to your feet, following him with your eye as he dressed himself from the plain skirt he'd worn to bed.

"I'll get your potions, your ingredients, your manual, your cat, a couple of your blankets... anything else?" He said, situating the gold cuff he hadn't given to the tavernkeeper on his right bicep.

"You did see my book?!"

"Piye, Panya, Unas, and I searched your room for any sign of where you went. We didn't know where to start," he explained gently. "If it makes you feel any better it's indecipherable. Piye tried, and they can read minds."

"Really?"

"Sort of. The point is, I will get everything you need. I'll even do it before I get my own stuff. Is that alright?" He said as he approached you, resting his hands on your upper arms.

"... a little yes," you grumbled, clearly not satisfied with the coming hours you would have to spend alone in the tiny, enclosed room.

"I can get Piye, too, if you want to say good-bye to them," he offered, his hands dropping as he went to put in his earring.

"No," you said a little too fast. "I think they.. did not like me."

"What? Piye liked you perfectly fine. I know they admired your potionmaking."

"I know. But I am not.. with them, as I am with you," you attempted to explain poorly.

"Alright. Just give me time to say good-bye to them and.. write a note for my parents, or something," he said, returning to stand in front of you with his hands on your arms, though his expression fell slightly as he wandered off in thought.

"Um –"

"Yes, very well," he said as he dropped his hands suddenly. "I'll go get your things. Do you know where your cat might be?"

"She is in fireplace, or in my food room," you said after a moment's thought.

"I'll go find her. Just stay here. Be safe, for once," he begged, looking you in the eye.

"Okay. I gift you time."

"Thank you. I will return as fast as I can," he said, leaning forward to gently kiss your forehead before he darted out of the room.

You reached forward to stop him, to ask him what he'd just done––or more specifically, why he'd done it––but he was already gone. The long wait had officially begun, and you flopped back down onto the bed, already defeated. There was nothing in the room of interest. A bed, a wooden bar to hang your things over, and a chair in the corner. To be fair, the ceiling above you was somewhat intricate.

When the smell of baking pastries wafted into the room, your eyes flew open, and you remembered the window. You jumped to your feet, rushing over to the window before stopping dead in front of it.

Far below, one of the main streets of Memphis sat as an active hub of conversation and trade. Most commonly people spoke Egyptian, but there were those who spoke other languages, both similar and unfamiliar from the languages you knew. All were discussing the social climate of Memphis or the worth of different goods.

What interested you was the bakery across the street; one controlled by the government, to create the bread and beer they payed their soldiers and servants with. Others outside were packing bags of grain into pocket-sized pouches, selling them to visitors of the city who would not stay more than a week. The people inside, however, were firing up the ovens for fresh bread, and mixing your favorite potion––beer. A plotting smirk spread slowly across your face.

Ahkmen told you he would be back soon, but Sephys, your cat, was hard to catch, and you estimated he wouldn't return until after midday. The temple bells always tolled for the midday adulations, so you'd have a perfect timer for getting back to the room before he did.

The window was small, but you wormed yourself out of it, the dirt in your clothes scraping off on the wooden frame. What vibrant red had once been there was deeply soaked in mud and caked in it, making you much the same color as everyone else. You used that to your advantage, clambered your way down the stocks of wood, clay, and hanging flags until your feet reached solid ground.

From there it was easy to find a way into the bakery. The flaps of the stalls surrounding it gave you good cover, allowing you to sneak in in plain sight, and hide behind one of the burning hot ovens. You remained careful not to touch the scathing stone, always maintaining at least an inch's distance.

Once the dull, white light of the sun reached you unobstructed, signaling no one was near, you crawled out of your hiding place, keeping low as you slowly pulled the wooden pan out of the fire. You raised yourself so just your eyes peeked over the edge of it, gently poking one of the bread cones till it fell on the ground.

You snatched it with lightning-quick hands, disappearing back behind the oven. Your breath came out in small pants, thrilled by the chase, and only calmed as you eyed yet another target. Beer mug.

How you longed for the beer you made––that was far away now, across the city, and most likely a place you would never return to. You sniffed, attempting to clear the thought from your head. Focusing onto the cup, you crouched low to the ground, hiding the bread in the folds of your clothes to keep your hands free. By keeping to the walls, you made it to the other side of the bakery without being spotted.

From there it was easy to grab the mug, though afterwards you found yourself at a bit of a loss on ideas on how to escape unseen. The cup contained a liquid that could easily be spilled, putting a bit of a damper on your usual tactics, and forcing you to scan the room in search of devices that could be put to use.

Your eyes were soon drawn to a vat the workers visited often––one filled with a drink you assumed to be beer. You hated to waste good beer, but if you could get it to break, it would be a fantastic distraction for you to sneak out.

Sneaking along the ground once more, you found a spot that kept you hidden while simultaneously offering you a vantage point to the clay pot. A straight shot from your position might shatter the fired clay, but you would need something hard, and it would have to be thrown faster than a concealed arm could do. You sighed as beneath-your-breath as you could, a petty realization dawning––this would take a little more work than usual.

You set your bread and beer away, scanning the room in search of more tools. It took several minutes, but you decided upon the drawstring of a bag of raw lentils, tying it into one circular string. From that point, it was a matter of finding a frame from which to catapult, which was easily solved when you remembered you had something called fingers.

Foamy beer spilt across the floor, nearly reaching your foot all the way across the room in no more than a second. You stumbled away best you could, gathering up your food before you darted out, cackling to yourself.

Since you could not climb with a full mug in your hands, you drank half the cup of beer as fast as you could, downing it in less than a minute. You raised your sleeve to wipe your mouth, shoving your bread into one of your pockets before you began to climb up to your room window. It took a considerable effort more than it had taken to climb down, but you soon fell in your room through the window, nearly spilling the remaining beer and causing the bread to roll out of your coat, and beneath the bed.

For the next two hours you occupied yourself with soaking your bread in the beer, till it became soft enough to form a sort of foam on the top. This was how Egyptian beer was made––water and bread, and the sweet taste of the bread seeped into the drink as fermentation ran its' course. It wouldn't make it more alcoholic in over the course of an hour, but it would aid in both taste and lessening your considerable hunger.

Another hour later a knock sounded on the door, shocking you out of your concentration of mixing your drink. You very nearly spilt it, but caught it in time, and ran over see who was behind the door. Through the cracks you spied Ahk's iconic golden robes.

You unlatched the lock, opening the door and hurrying him in. The many belongings scattered about your house were confined to three bags––one on his back, and two in his hands. Sephys stood on his shoulder but jumped down as he entered the room, finding a corner and staring at you from it with her empty eyes.

"You get everything??" You asked, scanning the many bags as he set them down.

"Everything I assume you have a connection with," he said, panting as he closed the door. "I got your bottles, your potions, one of each of your beers... got your book, and a couple of your tapestries. And your cat, of course."

"Ohh, thanks many!" You said with a laugh, jumping up to wrap your arms around his neck in a tight hug. He stumbled backwards with your weight, chuckling as he stabilized you with a hand round your waist.

"I told you you could trust me," he said, setting you back down on stable ground.

"I know, I know, but – you know how it is to give other your things," you rambled, gesturing randomly with your hand.

"I know," he chuckled. "I must get my own belongings now. It.. might take a little longer than it took to get your things."

"Why?"

"I might see my parents, for one, and they'd probably want to know where I'm going with all my stuff," he said, once more leaving for the door. You followed after as far as you could, till he stood in the doorway, paused only by your hand on his around the knob.

"Make fast, please," you said with wide, expectant eyes.

"Of course, my liege," he said, bowing with a teasing smile.

You made to scold him, but he left before the words could form, once more returning to the tasks of the day. Reality hadn't quite set in for him yet––he surmised it would take a good, long while before he truly comprehended his actions and the consequences of his choice.

Nonetheless he continued forward with little thought, taking roads he knew well to the back entrance of the palace. He passed by servants and soldiers alike as he weaved through the crowds of the palace, ranging from the fields splaying out across the lands behind the palace, to the gardens that dotted and lined the homes of Egypt. For a moment he paused, balancing himself on the precipice of the stairs with a hand circling one of the alabaster pillars. His fingers dug into the hieroglyphs so painstakingly carved hundreds of years ago.

Warm wind blew through his tossed hair, unwashed far longer than it ever had been before. The bright sun of midday illuminated all the city, stretching from the palace to the Nile who flowed brimming with ships, teeming with life, carrying, shipping, and trading the things he had known all his life. The skins of leopards, sheens of silk, pots of dates, of honey, of beer, and adornments of gold, and lapis, and faience. He could return, he reasoned––but looking at the distant river, he found himself already longing for it without ever having to leave the city.

He breathed deeply, closing his eyes and swinging himself round the pillar till he was back on track. None spared a second glance as he jogged on by, searching the inner torch-lit halls for his room, or a path towards it that would avoid commonly taken routes.

As he skittered about, he tried to imagine what he would take with him––what would be helpful, what would be sentimental, and what would be unnecessary. His collection of knives would be helpful, but he would need no more than three, as well as a sharpening stone. The map he had drawn as a child after obsessively studying maps from foreign nations might come in handy, though he doubted its' absolute accuracy. It would work for little more than a reference.

Food. Money. He could take currency in the universal form of gold. The various trinkets and jewels given to him throughout the years would be of incredible use, but it would also be an attraction for thieves.

Best to keep it to concealable gold, he thought to himself as he carefully entered his room.

He scanned the whole of it, from the open arches overlooking the city and the Nile river, to the paintings encircling the walls of his room. There was little idea in his head on where to start––so, like any self-respecting, sanitary person, he went to his wardrobe to begin. Inside he found different packs that he'd taken into the markets, along with many rows of clothing. He knelt, gathering the sandals on the wooden cabinet floor, stuffing them into the largest bag he could find. Linens and clothes followed, pushed down by the heavy gold that he cushioned with his skirts.

As he moved to his knees he spun, continuing to scan his room with quick eyes that darted to every feature. Grabbing the bag from the floor, he ran to his desk, shoving in maps and studies he had made in the many years passed. From there he moved to his bookcase, dumping scrolls into his bag but avoiding clay tablets. Despite any helpful information they might've held, they would weigh far too much for him to easily carry.

Ideas began to swirl in his head as he continued to circle his room. What would you do if the weather grew cold? He brought capes and cloaks. What would happen if you had no access to water? He brought along bottles and skins to fill with water or beer. What if you needed to hide your identities? He grabbed shrouds––pinned above your ears, and hiding your face from view. What if you got hurt? He took many bandages and a clay flask filled with honey. It worked to keep wounds from growing gangrenous, and aided in enduring pain.

At last he paused with panting breaths, still spinning to look over his room. There was little space left in the bag, and little else he could think the both of you would need, though he didn't feel like his job was done. He pressed his lips into a thin line, subconsciously attempting to convince himself it was time to return to you.

Time to leave everything.

Mounting the pack on his shoulders, he left his room, returning to the winding halls of the palace built upon decades and decades of different Pharaoh's and their honoring statues. Once-holy rooms littered the back pathways, adulations to the long dead and long forgotten. His fate would be much the same no matter his choices. The faces and names of humans are not to be remembered forever, and he knew that well. All that truly mattered was what he had now; he had a kingdom, a claim to the Pharaonic throne, access to every delicacy he could imagine, and you.

His decision remained the same no matter how he put it in his head. Losing such accommodations was a small price to explore the world, to help save a person he cared for, and presumably gain experience he would otherwise remain a stranger to. He was, for the most part, convinced he would be easily able to return to his life of royalty, should he return before his brother was appointed Pharaoh. If Kamun was already Pharaoh, then he might have a bit more of a problem.

As he ducked out the door of the palace's back entrance, he collided into another person, stumbling down the ascending steps and yelling obscenities as he did.

"Oh shit," he heard from above him, followed by running steps and two hands helping him up. Ahk instantly knew who it was.

"Piye, I'm glad to see you," he said, his voice still wavering from the fall. "Listen, I found Yogi."

Their eyes went wide as their expression dropped.

"You did?" They asked.

"Yes. And now I've got to go to Harappa."

"Harappa?!" Piye grabbed his arm before he could leave, their grip tight enough to pale his skin. "That's eons away. That's – that's so far we don't even know where it is. Are you going alone with them? You're going to die!"

"Wow, okay. Thanks for the support," he said sarcastically. "Yes we're going alone. Unless you'd like to come with."

They paused, mouth open but silent as they faltered for words.

"I can't," they said, and cursed. "The peoples of the sea are still trying to enter Egypt's ports. I cannot be far from them, and I cannot be far from the Pharaoh's orders."

"Very well. You understand I must do this, though," he said, looking them earnestly in the eye.

"No. But I know you've done far stupider for people you've known for less time than Yogi, so it's... a little less treasonous than you usually are," Piye said.

"I knew you'd get it," he said with a smile, pulling his friend in for a tight hug. "I promise I will return. This probably won't take more than a couple years, at most."

"How assuring," they said flatly. "Keep safe. Don't take any chances."

"Yes, of course."

"Do you have a weapon on you?"

"Yes."

"What about bandages?"

"Yes, I have that too," Ahk said in a sigh, growing irritated by Piye's motherly tendencies.

"A map?"

"Piye I know how to prepare for a journey," he laughed, finally pushing them away. "You'll be alright when I'm gone?"

"Of course I will. I don't depend on you, you know."

"You love to say that but I know you'll miss me," Ahk said, reaching forward to pinch Piye's cheek.

"That I will. Be safe, Ahkmen."

"I know."

He ran down the streets, carefully balancing the weight of the oversized bag on his back through the decline from palace to shore. Several people must've caught sight of him, but he was going far too fast to pay attention, and his mind was in distant places.

Before he know it he was climbing the stairs of the tavern once more, heaving his pack up the steps leading to your room. He knocked on the door, leaning against the frame of it as footsteps hurried forward, and the door clicked opened.

"You look sad," was the first thing you said, paired by an odd look he couldn't quite decipher.

"... what?"

"Tired! I meant tired," you said before promptly hurrying him in, cursing to yourself.

He chuckled, dropping the bag like a weight to the stone floor. With a long sigh he collapsed on the small bed, closing his eyes after a long while of letting them burn in the rushing wind. When he opened them, he found you looming above him.

"We will go now?"

"I think we ought to wait till night," he said, rolling over with a huff and moving upright. "Easier to steal a boat."

"My home is east, not.. um... who does your river point to?"

"North and south. And I happen to have a few different maps that we may or may not be able to put to use," he said, grinning when you just looked at him with a confused expression.

He slid off the bed, kneeling down at his bag and pulling out several of the scrolls stored in the leftmost section. Beckoning you over, he set them on the small table, using weights of stone to keep them straight on the wooden surface. You came up from beneath his arm leant on the table, making it so his arm wrapped around you.

"Where are we?" You said as you read the map with wide eyes, ever observant as you were diligent.

"Here," he said, using his other hand not encircling you to point to the Nile. "You came from the east, right?"

"Yes."

"There's an ocean directly to the east. We'll have to go north, to the crossing of the isthmus in order to safely cross it, so it's easiest to follow the Nile downwards, to the Mediterranean," he said, pointing and tracing his hand the whole time he spoke.

"I understand," you said after a moment's more thought.

"It'll be easiest to take one of the skiffs after the sun has set, when visibility is lowered and security has lessened," he said, turning to face you instead of the map. You looked up, twisting against the table so his arm crossed your waist.

"Small words, Aganu."

"We should take the boats at night since it's harder to see and there are less guards."

"Thank you. That was easy, yes?"

"Yes," he said with a soft laugh, more concentrated on the dips and blush of your smile than the accuracy of his own words.

"Then we have very much time, before it is night," you said.

"That we do. How about... I'll get us some food, bring it back here, and then you won't have to risk leaving the room in daylight," he suggested, subconsciously stepping closer to you.

You decided not to inform him that you had already left several times.

"That is good," you said with a slow nod, flashing back to the keg of beer you'd spilt across the street. "I have much hunger."

"Alright. I'll be back in a bit."

It took longer than what you'd define a 'bit' of time to be, but the wait was worth it, as he returned with delicacies you had never been able to try during your time in Egypt. Your income was scarce, and the job recently supplied to you by the government only afforded you plain bread and beer. Making your own meals was often no more than baking bread with a specifically alcoholic mixture folded within.

Ahkmen brought, among other things, bowls of stews spiced to heaven and back, filled with vegetables and meat alike. Platters of baked goods accompanied them, still warm from the oven. He'd brought a good deal of fruit, as well––from sun-dried dates to pomegranate seeds, he seemed quite satisfied at your awe.

"Where had you gotten this?" You said, unable to tear your eyes away from the large tray in his hands, even as he walked by you to set it on the table. You followed with quick steps.

"Well there's, um, lots of restaurants and such around here," he said with a cough.

In truth he had gone to the Great Temple of Ptah, hijacking some of the extravagant dishes laid out decoratively in front of the statue. This would be his last good meal for a while, and he wanted it to be as thoroughly luxurious, and as indulgent, as possible.

"Aganu, you have – many... I have many questions for you, but I do not know what my questions are," you said slowly.

"And I'm sure I don't know what my answers would be," he said, chuckling as he took a seat cross-legged beside the low table.

You followed in a much less smooth motion, almost falling to the floor with tangled legs. It didn't seem to hurt you.

"The other day, in the House of Life, within Osiris' temple," he began, pulling down several of the dishes to the floor between you, "the Priests decided that they would teach us a little history. Not ours, Egyptian, though. Want to guess why that was?"

"There is something to know from what they did?"

"Precisely," he said, somehow always taken aback by your discernment. "They told us of a place called Sumer. Apparently it was a prevalent country like Egypt a long while ago. It started about... 5,000 years ago."

"Oh. That is a big time."

"Yes, and it disappeared relatively recently. Couple hundred years back. But for 4,000 or so years, they were a kingdom of incredible power, central to trade in all the known world. The priests, they told us stories about the many peoples who gathered in the city of Ur. From the east, and the west, the north, and the south. They were writing as our cities were being built. We were engaged in commerce with them, for a while."

"So what is it to know?"

"How they died," he answered simply. "A famine set over them when they were already weak. A foolish King overspent his wares and people from the east came and ransacked the city. Those who fled usually found safety in nearby cities, but others went further, and came to Egypt. They told of what happened with.. great sorrow. They wrote of it in cuneiform. These... horrifying stories. The Priests read them to us."

His hands had begun to wrung each other, though he didn't notice till you set your hands over his tensed fingers. In that moment he paused, realizing his subconscious actions, and apologized softly before he continued in a more stable voice.

"What had they say?" You asked.

His vision faded ever so slightly as he remembered the crystal-clear words spoken to him in the monotone drawl of the priests.

"In the lofty gates... the dead bodies were lying about.. where feasts were held, they were viciously attacked. The nursing mother's breasts were.. pried open, in the city, the child abandoned. I, whose city has been made into ruins, whose home has been destroyed. The shrine Ur has been destroyed, and its' people dead. His chest, the pure... he.. he strikes, ‘alas for my city’ he cries. His eyes are flooded with tears; bitterly he weeps. I, like an unworthy shepherd the weapon has fallen on my ewes. Woe is me, I am one who has gone forth from my city. I am one who has found no rest."

Silence filled the space as his memory faulted him. He returned to within himself, to the scents steaming out of the stews, and the mouth-watering taste already on his tongue. He took another bite, but you stayed still.

"You say this is a city like Egypt," you said softly, a frown creasing your brow.

"I did, yes."

"Then will Egypt die, like that? Will your people cry like that?"

He sucked in a breath, unsure of how to answer.

"Eventually, perhaps," he said with a small nod. "I think death is a possible fate for all civilizations, just as it is inevitable for the single man to die. We do not know if something will last forever because we, as humans, cannot."

"So we stay in today," you said.

He raised his head to meet your gaze, and smiled soft at your ever-sanguine eyes.

"Don't have another choice, so I suppose we will," he said with a chuckle. He raised his cup of wine and said, "a toast to staying in today."

"Very good," you said, grinning warmly as you took your own cup and clinked it against his.

A toast to the last I see of Egypt, he thought as his eyes fell to his reflection in the blood red wine.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: In The Act {3}

Chris Evans x Famous OFC Cassia Drake

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Plenty of Words

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: After the release of your hit movie “Roman Holiday,” you’ve become Hollywood’s new “It Girl.” Everyone wants a piece of you. While at a Hollywood event, you get pulled into an epic selfie similar to the one from the MET Gala with the megastars of Hollywood. The next day all anyone can talk about is this epic picture but not because of the star power in it, but what was happening in it.

Note: Yep, another one.

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

**Heavily Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️❤️

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 |

Thank god for slow mornings. You couldn’t think of the last time you were able to wake up without Pieter either standing over you or walking into your bedroom. He was the only one your mother trusted with you, and he just so happened to be a big shot entertainment manager. When you told your mother that you intended to pursue a career in acting, she was livid. She went on a tirade of the number of black actresses who either had to do questionable things to even have a minor break and those who just were used and turned away. She stressed the vast inequalities in the entertainment industry and worried for your mental and emotional health in the cruel industry. She didn't want you anywhere near the entertainment industry. She wanted you to fall into her second career field and be a lawyer.

It took months of you doing it on your own before you got your first role, it was small, but you played the shit out of the third black friend to the white lead actress then did it again and again and again. After your fourth role, your mother came around and brought Pieter into the mix. You knew of him from the industry. He’d been in a few tabloid magazines standing next to a few actresses. Your mother introduced him as her school friend from back in the day. You wanted to question her, but you knew better than that and just accepted the story she fed you. You always suspected there was more to it. The two of them sat you down for three hours to have a meeting on your goals with the industry.

After you went on and on for an hour, they went on and on for the next two outlining what needed to happen, how you needed to take things seriously, and put thought into the roles you auditioned for and so on. By the end of the meeting, you were on information overload, and that was when your mother told you the only way she’d be okay with you in this cutthroat town was if Pieter managed you. There was nothing in you that wanted to say no, so you said yes. That was two years now, and it had been a rollercoaster from the beginning.

Once in your kitchen still in your bra and panties, you perused the shelves in your fridge and took out the huge fruit salad you found there. After smelling it, you settled that it was still good and hopping onto the kitchen island and turned on the TV. As you ate, you flipped through the channels determined not to go to anything that required a brain cell. After a few moments of searching, you decided to finish the episode of Castlevania you’d started weeks ago.

You got lost in the lore of the Dracula themed animated series and the deliciousness of the fruit you were eating. You’d tuned everything out so well that you didn’t even hear anyone approach.

“Cassia!”

“What!”

You looked back to see Tiffany with her head poked around a corner looking at you.

“I think you’re gonna want to come out here,” she said with a look on her face you didn’t recognize.

“Uhh—why?”

“Just come look.” With that, her head was gone. Sighing, you pressed pause on the show, hopped off the counter, stabbed a piece of honeydew, and walked to where she’d disappeared. When you walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to your foyer, there sat a rather large floral arrangement.

“What the fuck is this?”

“What does it look like?”

“Flowers,” you answered before you shoved the fruit in your mouth to stand beside Tiffany.

“Duh.”

“Who are they from?”

You both stood there, just staring at it. They were gorgeous.

“I don’t know. I have been trying not to grab the card,” tiffany added. You looked at her; there was a wide ass grin on her face.

“It’s probably from Vouge thanking me for the photoshoot yesterday,” you surmised as you approached the arrangement. The scent of roses was powerful but not overwhelming.

Grabbing the card, you glanced at the front to see your name written across it. You didn’t recognize the handwriting. When you opened it, you scanned the words written, expecting to see “thank you.” Instead, you saw the words, “I’m sorry.” Bringing the card closer to your face, you read the words. Each word you read, your eyes bugged out even more and more until your jaw had dropped.

“What? Who’re they from?”

“Not Vouge.” Tiffany walked to you and took the card from your hands and read it aloud.

“Cassia, allow me to begin by extending my most sincerest apology to you for first my behavior the night of the fashion event and second the position I have put you in with the press. I am embarrassed and ashamed of my actions and behavior,” Tiffany began before she looked at you with eyes wide.

“Is this who I think it is? Oh my god, Cass!”

She dropped her eyes back to the card and continued. “I am embarrassed and ashamed of my actions and behavior, and I deeply regret them. I am very sorry, and I want you to know that in no way did I mean to objectify you or your body. I have two sisters and a strong Italian mother, and I was not raised that way at all. I hope that you can forgive me and my actions and not hold it against my family. Please accept these flowers as a token of my most heartfelt apology. Sincerely Chris Evans,” Tiffany finished with the squeal of his name.

“Oh my god! Cass!”

You’d been frozen in place for the last two minutes as she read the card. There were a plethora of things running through your head. One of which was the number of formal words he’d used.

“Oh my fucking god! Cass, is this his handwriting? It looks like it could be, it’s legible. Oh my god.”

You heard Tiffany reread the card, and as she did, you turned back to the flowers and observed them. You took notice that the flowers were all in your favorite colors. That made you wonder if he knew your favorite colors, or this was just a florist’s decision.

“Why are you so quiet? Why aren’t you freaking out?”

“Do you think he knows my these are my favorite colors?”

Tiffany looked back to the arrangement then let out a “hmm.”

“Do you think he specially researched you in order to send these? It is possible. this card sounds like he put a lot of thought into it.”

You took the card from her and reread it for yourself. She was right; the handwriting wasn’t horrible, by no means was it gorgeous, but it was nice. You began to wonder if he had, in fact, written it himself.

“Are you going to reply?”

That was the million-dollar question. You didn’t see a need to. Even if you did, what what you say? Thank you, Mr. Evans, for apologizing for looking down my dress. Though I enjoyed the attention, and I am flattered, It was highly inappropriate? Somehow that didn’t seem right.

“No need,” you answered before you walked away toward the kitchen and your fruit salad.

“What!”

Tiffany’s footsteps were loud as she trudged behind you.

“Why wouldn’t you reply? This could be one of the cutest meet-cute stories for your grandkids.”

“Oh my god, Tiff, grandkids? Are you insane right now?”

“Girl, don’t even try and lie and say you don’t think the man is fine.”

“I never said he wasn’t attractive.”

“Attractive? Cassia Anjelique Drake, you know you a damn liar. The man is more than attractive. He is gorgeous,” Tiff corrected.

“And he knows it, Tiffany. You can tell. I bet part of him thought he could have gotten away with x-ray visioning me, and no one would have called him out for it.”

“Cass,” Tiff began before you cut her off.

“—We’re not responding,” you finished turning back on Castelvania.

You knew Tiffany did not approve and also knew you hadn’t heard the end of it. You tried to focus on the show, but it was useless. Your mind only wanted to think of one thing—or person. Chris Evans.

Your day was just for meetings. Pieter had set you up with six meetings for the day. The first three were about movie roles he thought would suit your brand. They were all varying roles, one the lead in an action flick, another the love interest in a rom-com, and the third in a sci-fi type dramady. He said the worst thing in the world was being typecast. With Roman Holiday being a romcom, you knew he’d want your next role to be on the far opposite side of the spectrum.

The roles sounded exciting, and the scripts intrigued you. When they began talking about the expected salary for the films, you were impressed. They were practically throwing their money at you. You couldn’t believe the money actors actually received for a few months of work. Yeah, the schedule could be daunting and preparation never ending, but millions of dollars for maybe five to six months of work was just fine by you.

After the three movie meetings where you agreed to take the scripts and reread them before you got back to them, you moved on to a meeting with your team to discuss the next three months for you while going over the last three months. This happened quarterly, and you found the meetings insightful. They kept you on track with your goals and kept things in perspective. Your mother always said you are only as good as a capable team around you.

Your team comprised of your agent, Eduardo, whose job was to hunt down all the roles he could for you and field calls and interest from anyone and everyone in the business. Second, your publicist Julez, her domain was everything concerning your PR. Her job was to make sure that everything about you in the public remained favorable. She was good at what she did, and took her job seriously. Then was your lawyer, Martin, who was the second-best entertainment lawyer in the business. The best as far as you were concerned was your mother. His job was to keep everything legal and make sure no one tried to take advantage of you business-wise. Fourth, was your accountant, Greg. He was your money man. He made sure every cent you agreed upon with your contracts, was sent to your bank account and that every dime in your account was accounted for at all times. He even helped you invest that money, so it always grew. Then came your part-time stylist, Frenchie. Her job was to keep you looking incredible when she was needed. Finally, there was Pieter who oversaw them all. Tiffany nicknamed them Star Team, in honor of your name.

Though you’d learned to listen and follow along when they talked, you had to admit most of the information was boring to you, so you often drifted off. You never felt guilty about it because Tiffany was always recording the meetings and inventorying them for you if you needed to reference them later.

“Okay, is that all?” Pieter looked around at their faces around the conference table.

“One more thing, Julez began. “Have you decided how you’d like to move forward with eh-em, Boobgate?”

The murmurs around the desk picked up before Julez went on. “The media seemed to love your snarky, comedic comeback, Cassia. They are now doing most of the work for us by calling you good-spirited and easy-going for shrugging it off. A lot of the comments since are in good fun. I don’t see anything negative to come through, so I’m going to say we’re staying in good parameters. I have noticed though a great increase in searches about you and your overall name being mentioned. People love talking about you and Chris,” Juelz finished.

“Why wouldn’t they? They look gorgeous together,” Frenchie added.

“That seems to be the overall consensus. It is fascinating even those in his fandom do not seem to be spinning this negatively, which is always a concern with him and his team,” Juelz informed.

That was not news to you. When you had yet to make your big break, you followed celebrity discourse, and the Chris Evans fandom was insane. It seemed any little thing set them off, and once a fire was sparked, it would burn for weeks. With your rising fame, you worried about things like that on your end and being swept up in someone else’s insanity.

“So let’s leave it there. Let the media run with it where they will. We’ll do and say nothing on it. We’ll let this work for us,” Pieter finalized.

Everyone nodded before he called an end to the meeting, and everyone began to leave the room. Before you left, Pieter took the time to remind you about your last meeting of the day and share the news about a few other side projects he’d been working on for you. He shared that within a week or two, he hoped to be able to share the full news but that he was excited at the turn talks had taken today. You were curious but knew if you asked him to elaborate, he would only shoo you away, promising it would be a good surprise. He had your mother’s trust and had earned yours, so you allowed him to keep his secrets—for now.

After your last meeting, you found yourself home alone before midnight. This was the first time you'd been able to get any alone time. As you made it in your bedroom, you realized the flowers were now perched on your bedside table. They were even more beautiful in the glow of the moonlight that was shining through your balcony windows. Tiffany must have sent a message to the housekeeper to move them there.

You took up the card and reread it, all the while smiling. It was a sweet apology note and a kind gesture. You were surprised Julez didn’t bring them up in the meeting until it dawned on you that either she didn’t know which meant they came directly from him and not his assistant or team or she didn’t want to put you on the spot. While she technically answered to Pieter, she knew your money was what paid her salary. That meant you and her had an understanding about your PR needs. You liked discretion on things that no one else needed to know. This—you didn’t want Pieter knowing about. There was no need for him to know. It meant nothing.

The next day before you left your house, there was yet another bouquet and the card that accompanied it read; “Just in case you didn’t believe the first card I sent with the first arrangement I wanted to double down to make sure you knew that I am very much sorry.”

Tiffany didn’t say one word, all she did was give you a look, and that one look said plenty of things in one. “Heifer, you better reply to that man and live your life while swinging from his chandelier butt ass naked.” You had no intention of doing anything that look said.

The next day, another bouquet was waiting for you. this card was a little more amusing. “The first bouquet I could say you possibly didn’t receive. I know your life is busy, and anything can happen, but the second one, eh, less believable that you didn’t get no matter how much my pride is screaming at me that you didn’t just to save face. This one, I am sure you got, I had my assistant take care of it and attach a delivered and received receipt. So you responding is a purpose thing, and that makes me think I fucked up really bad, so bad that flowers won’t fix it, and you don’t forgive me. So I propose an alternative option. Allow me to apologize in person and explain myself. You pick the time and the place, and I’ll show up.”

When Tiffany saw this one, she lost her shit. She went on a full twenty-minute speech on why you should respond and accept his proposal. She went through exhibits A to Z as to why this was a good idea. She conveniently skipped the letter P knowing damn well the only thing you both could think of was Pieter. You knew that if he knew about any of this, he would flip his lid. When she included in her argument that you could make all of his dreams come true that he’s had all his life but was too afraid to inquire about.

You allowed her to go on her rant but still decided against responding or meeting him.

~~~~~~~~

-2 Days Later-

“So Cassia, everyone wants to know about this picture that is still the talk of the town. You haven’t made a statement, Chris hasn’t made a statement. What gives?” Ryan Seacrest’s question had you giggling.

“Nothing gives, Ryan. Not everything needs an explanation. Sometimes as humans, we have to learn to be okay with what is,” you philosophized.

Silence stretched for a full ten seconds before everyone around you busted out laughing, including yourself.

“Wow, I almost fell for that,” Ryan added, making you laugh louder.

“Darn, I almost got away with it.”

“You would have if I really didn’t want an answer,” Ryan slid in.

“Ah, everyone wants an answer, Ryan. I don’t have an answer to give.”

“You weren’t there?”

“No. It was my twin sister, Alicia.”

Another long stretch of silence filled the room. You could tell they were trying to figure out if you were telling the truth. “See, you guys are easy,” you teased, making them laugh again.

“So, you’re really not going to make a statement?”

“I went to an event and met a lot of cool people and had a great time.”

“Did you and Chris Evans leave together?”

“Not at all.”

“Did you exchange numbers?”

“Nope.”

Another silence befell the room, and you knew they didn’t believe you. For the next five minutes or so, you finished the interview while keeping tightlipped about the hottest topic. When you left, you were met with the paparazzi yet again, who were shouting new questions.

“Cassia, are the rumors true?”

“What rumors, guys?”

“That you’re in a relationship with Captain America himself.”

You tried to hide your shock before you quickly spoke.

“Who said that?”

Tiffany snorted beside you, no doubt thinking of her favorite gif.

“It is all over social media,” one of the paparazzo informed.

“That’s news to me,” you finished as your security got you to your truck. Before you got in one more question was screamed at you.

“How’d it feel to have Captain America checking you out?”

You couldn’t hide your smirk this time, and it was a smirk that only got bigger and bigger. Before you cheesed like a full-on idiot, you ducked in the truck.

“Your smirk said it all,” Tiffany said as you facepalmed.

After a quick trip to the market for some essentials, you made it home to finish reading the scripts you needed to have done in two days. When you walked inside, you ignored the second bouquet of flowers, Chris sent you the day after the first and went upstairs. Once in your bedroom, the third bouquet he sent yesterday caught your eye. The first one was a shock, the second a surprise, the third confusing.

After your shower, you walked back into your bedroom to find another bouquet that wasn't there thirty minutes ago. You knew they were from him. This was now amusing. What was his angle, you thought to yourself as you crossed the room to the flowers. Taking a deep whiff of them, you moaned. You loved the scent of Gardenia. They always put you in the frame of mind of romance and sensual rolls in bed. With that thought, you paused. Was he trying to tell you something?

Grabbing the envelope, you noted it was a lot bigger than the cards that accompanied the other bouquets. Once opening it, you saw a sheet of paper that felt heavier than standard paper, and with it came what you now knew was his handwriting. “Okay, after thinking about this for the last week trying to figure out what it is about me that you don’t like or won’t even entertain. Let’s start with the massive elephant in the room; I’m white.”

You had to laugh out loud for that. After almost a full minute of laughter that made you have to sit on your bed, you continued. “I know a major turn off, and unfortunately, it’s not something I can change. However, I can assure you that though I am white aesthetically, I am not fully white in any other department, and yes, that includes dancing.”

Again you laughed, dropping onto your back while flailing your legs in the air. He was on a roll; you thought before you continued. “Second, it must be you’re not into white guys. For that, the only thing I can offer is I’m not against wearing a paper bag to hide the fact that I am, in fact, white. It would be a case of none are the wiser. If, however, your gripe with me is my behavior from nights before, I promise I’m not a sleaze twenty-four hours of the day. I am capable of looking directly into your eyes for an entire conversation, I promise. Let me prove it to you. 424-947-5639.”

Your jaw dropped. Chris freaking Evans just gave you his phone number. You couldn’t move for the next ten minutes. You just sat there in a stunned stupor. You couldn’t believe this was real. Half of you was fangirling because hello not too long ago; you were a fan. You still were. The other half was freaking out because Chris Evans just gave you his phone number. Was he just being friendly, or was he shooting his shot?

MSG: Question.

MSG Tiff: Answer for two hundred Alex.

MSG: How does one shoot their shot?

MSG Tiff: What? Cass, has it really been that long since you’ve made the first move?

MSG: Do you know who you’re talking to? I’ve never made the first move. That is beside the point. I’m not talking about me shooting my shot. I mean when someone shoots their shot at you. What exactly does it look like?

You saw the bubbles knowing she was probably writing a long ass message. Almost a minute later, the message came in.

MSG Tiff: Uh, were you not present at the Laker’s game when the Sixers were in town, and Jonah Bolden stopped the game to come over and shoot his shot?

You laughed. You hadn’t forgotten that, mainly because it was everywhere the next day. The two of you talked for a few weeks, but your schedule and his had things fizzling real quick.

MSG: Yeah, but he was black, Tiff.

That was when the facetime call came in. you rolled your eyes but answered it. “So are we asking what it looks like when a white guy shoots his shot? Is that to lead me to think you mean a particular America’s ass?”

“Oh my god, Tiff. Just answer please,” you pleaded with exasperation.

“I need to know who first. White guys shooting their shot do not come in one size fits all. So who?”

Rolling your eyes again, you told her and prepared for the scream. It was as loud as expected.

“Okay, I knew he was feeling you. A man doesn’t look at any ol breasts like that,” Tiffany joked before she continued. “He looks like he could have game, but it could be cheesy game. Did he send you more flowers?”

You turned the camera to the new bouquet, and she melted. “Oh my god, those are to die for. They just get more and more beautiful. He definitely put research into this one. you love gardenias.”

It was true, and the thought had crossed your mind. When she asked what the note said this time, you read it to her. It had her laughing just as hard and long. When you mentioned that he ended it with his number, she screamed again.

“Call him!”

“No!”

“Cassiopeia Anjelique Drake! The man has shot his ultimate shot,” Tiffany shouted, using your entire full name.

You rolled your eyes and dropped back onto your bed.

“I can’t call. Pieter will freak,” you excused.

“Fuck, Pieter!” It came from the depths of her soul, you could tell. “This is your life, your pussy!”

You face palmed yourself again. She had to go there.

“I’m serious. I know you’ve heard the rumors from that comedian he dated, and he swears his fingering is accurate, and you have seen his beard. A man with a beard like that is good for one thing.”

You screamed and died again. She was in prime form right now.

“Cassia.”

Groaning, you sat up and sighed out. “I gotta go Tiff, I’m supposed to have a video conference in ten minutes, and I’m sitting here in a towel. I’ll call you later.”

“When you call me, you better be telling me that you talked to that man,” Tiffany shouted out as you were ending the facetime call.

You quickly got yourself together, and presentable then made it to your office to prep for the conference with the scripts. Seeing how far behind you were with the scripts, you show the participants a quick email to push it back by a few hours. Then you buckled down to actually get some work done instead of thinking about the real reason Chris Evans had a beard.

Two hours later, you were on the conference and going through the script line for line, film direction after direction. If one script would have taken an hour to go through, then three took you triple the time. By the time you’d finished for the day, you were all talked out, exhausted, and starving. Glancing at your phone, you saw missed calls from Tiffany and your mother and groaned at the fact that it was after one in the morning. If you’d have known following your dreams meant bye-bye to normal sleep hours, then you may have thought twice.

With the craving for the most unhealthy crap raging within you, you got into your car and went for a drive. While the time meant not many were out, you knew anywhere in the heart of LA would be a mistake. You drove half an hour out of the way to Pasadena to the burger spot you found by accident. It was no Shake Shake, but it offered two of your favorite things in one place, Burgers and Pies.

As you walked inside the small shop, you smiled, grateful it was practically empty. You walked to the back of the retro style burger joint and sat in the last booth. Deciding it was safe to drop your disguise, you took off your hat and sunglasses and took a deep breath of the glorious smell of burger and pies. You weren’t waiting long before a waitress came over with a note pad.

“Welcome. Can I take your order?”

“Yes, the Big Ben burger with the works, please.” She looked at you like you were insane.

“Are you sure? That’s a big plate,” she warned. You smiled and nodded.

“Oh yeah. I haven’t eaten all day,” you assured.

“Okay. How would you like it?”

“Very well done, please.”

She nodded as she jotted your order down. “Anything to drink?”

“Ginger Ale with a lemon slice, please,” you finished before she nodded and walked away.

You really liked this place. It was one of the few places that still had a jukebox. Digging into your purse, you pulled out a quarter then walked to the device that wasn’t too far from the booth you’d chosen. As you perused the selections of old and new music, you tried to gauge the mood you were in. It had been a while since you were able to sneak away on your own. You were in the mood for some relaxation but a bit of fun. You tapped in the key combination and turned the knob, and waited for the tune to play. When the oldie by Rihanna “Pon de Replay” came on, you began flicking your hips from side to side until you began winding it. You heard the distant ring of a bell that signified someone else had entered the restaurant, but it didn’t register, you were too into the song.

When you really got into it, you dipped it low as instructed and began singing along. That was when your entire body got into it, and you tapped into your own inner bad gyal. When you turned around, you yelped loudly, drawing the attention of the waitstaff to you. Before you stood the person, you least expected to see. The crooked quirk of his lip gave him the most roguish look you’d ever seen, a look that shouldn’t have turned you on the way it had—but it did.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Chris teased with an impossibly deep voice. It never sounded that deep in interviews, you thought to yourself before your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. His cerulean eyes fell from yours to your mouth, and you watched as his tongue slowly slid across his lips. Your nipples beaded painfully, and you didn’t need to look down to know that if anyone looked, it would be more than noticeable.

Why are you turned on right now, you questioned in your head. There was no logical reason for it. Yes, he smelled—incredible. There was no way anyone should smell that good; it was impossible. He smelled like fruits, sea salt, sunshine, vanilla, and a very appealing musk. He smelled like he took four showers a day and took pride in being groomed to perfection. The more you thought about it, the harder your nipples got.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Clearing your throat, it came out most exaggeratedly with a long high pitch. Chris’s brows wrinkled as he looked at you as if there might have been something wrong with you.

“Uh—are you okay?”

Instead of words, it was terrifying giggles that came out, making you sound like a deranged, cackling Hyena. The look on Chris’s face only became more concerned. You cleared your throat again this time more naturally and straightened your back.

“What’re—what’re you doing—here?”

“In a public restaurant?”

“Yeah, this public space,” you clarified before you crossed your arms over your breasts. “It’s mine.”

“Yours? You own it?”

“No, but it’s my secret place.”

“Ah, I see. If it was so much of a secret, then how did I find it?”

He was contesting you, challenging you. It was at this moment you got the vibe from him that he was the type of man who liked to debate, compete, and win. A man like that should have had your red flags blaring, but no red flags were waving. The only thing that was waving in front of you was a deep curiosity to know this man in a way that you hadn’t wanted to know anyone before.

Shrugging, you walked back to your table and sat. He approached you all the while, never taking his eyes off of you. You bit your bottom and tried to keep your thoughts boring. Before either of you could speak again, the waitress came back with your order.

“Big Ben burger with the works and fries and a ginger ale with lemon slices.”

When she put it down, she looked to Chris, who dipped his head low and pulled down his hat. The woman looked as if she might have recognized him, but she didn’t speak; she just peered closer. You cleared your throat and slid your plate closer. It was enough to distract the woman.

“Will there be anything else, honey?”

“No, thank you.”

“And you? Will you be staying or going?”

Chris looked to you with one eyebrow raised. Your eyes met, and you saw the question in them. It was a mix of a question and a challenge. He expected you to answer. It would give you the control of the situation, and it would also make it so you’d have to blatantly turn him down in front of his face rather than ignoring him as you’d been doing the last few days. You bit your bottom lip and took a deep breath. You had enough balls to turn him down right here. You’d done worse to other guys—a lot worse. The question was, did you want to do it to him.

When you locked eyes with him again, an amused smile spread across his lips. You bit your bottom lip again and sighed.

“He will be staying,” you answered.

The waiter looked to you then to him and nodded. Chris slid into the booth before you still keeping eye contact. The longer he looked at you; the more unnerved you became.

“All right, what can I get you sugar?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#In The Act fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x ofc #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic

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aliendes · 4 years

Text

Natural Borns - Chapter Three

Banner made by @thebannershop

Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, (possible) smut NSFW due to darker themes

Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual)

Warnings: mentions of panic and anxiety, blood, and overall sadness in this chapter. This series will have different trigger warnings listed for each chapter (if there are any), but as a whole, this series will include violence, mentions of depression & other mental illnesses, cursing, abuse, drugs/alcohol, some shitty medical descriptions because i am NOT a doctor, self-esteem issues, fluff, and possible smut in future chapters (but that’s undecided). i will add more warnings/tags in the future if there are any.

Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it?

Word count: 5.5k~

A/N: Thank you all so much for the love on this series! If you want to be added to the tag list, please make sure you’re following me and send me an ask! This chapter is a little longer than normal because it contains a lot of backstory. We will be meeting (almost) all of the boys in this chapter and I’m super excited for the next couple chapters. As always, I’m happy to answer questions/asks and I love hearing from you. Reblog and help other’s see the series! xoxo - Des

Updated: 8/3/2020

Squinting, you cocked your head to the side as you caught sight of something, or someone, in your driveway. There, in front of your house, was your father.

And Hyunwoo.

You quickly maneuvered your body so you were completely hidden from sight behind the large oak tree. Your back was pushed against the rough bark, palms flat against the wood. Instead of catching your breath like you intended, your heart rate was soaring, you felt like you couldn’t breath. You screwed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to process everything that was happening.

Namjoon and Seokjin. They just warned you about Hyunwoo, the man now standing in your driveway with your father. Warned you that he could potentially be there to kidnap you - or worse - buy you from your parents. Your initial thoughts drove that possibility from your mind. Your parents wouldn’t do that. You know that. They’ve been protecting you your entire life. They’ve kept you at home, kept you away from anywhere that you could be scouted. But - eyes still screwed shut, you furrow your brow - why? Why have they kept you sheltered? You shook your head violently trying to erase these thoughts from your brain. You took a deep breath and opened your eyes. You slowly turned around to face the tree you were hiding behind, and carefully peeked around it, searching for the two men again.

Your father and Hyunwoo were still standing on your front porch. You were pretty far away from them so you really couldn’t make out facial expressions. You watched them for a moment, trying to read body language, but it was no use. You were too far. As you watched the pair you started to calm down a bit. Maybe Hyunwoo was just coming back to try and talk your father - or you - into selling your DNA. No big deal. Your dad would put a stop - you squint your eyes, trying to get a better look. It looked like they were - shaking hands? After your father shook hands with him, Hyunwoo turned and walked directly to his car. As he opened the door he gave one last wave in your father’s direction and bent to get into the driver’s seat. Before he was fully seated, his eyes snapped to you, as if he had known you were standing there all along.

You gasped loudly and it felt like all the air was violently sucked out of your lungs. You locked eyes with the man. Instead of outing you to your father who was now making his way back into your house, he kept his eyes on your frozen form and continued to sit down. He stared for only a moment before closing his door. A silent message that you heard loud and clear. You weren’t breathing, couldn’t move at all. Your feet felt like anchors weighing you down, keeping you rooted to the ground. You watched as the straight faced, calm Hyunwoo started his car and drove away from your farm.

Your body reacts before your mind could and suddenly you’re running through the forest, back in the direction of the stream. Your thoughts were reeling. You were scared, terrified, even. You were sprinting now, full speed, not caring about the soles of your bare feet. Your eyes were clouded with hot tears spilling down your cheeks. You were running so fast you could hear the whir of wind trailing off your form, leaves crackling and crunching on the forest floor, and the sound of your quick, labored breathing. You have no idea where you’re going, just letting your feet take you far away from your home. Something inside you was telling you, no, screaming at you, to get away from whatever deal you just witnessed between your father and Hyunwoo.

Hyunwoo.

He knows you’re out here. He’s probably looking for you right now, or will be soon. Your brain was finally catching up with your body as you started to slow down to a jog. Quickly, you pulled your phone out of your pocket to dial the only number you felt like you could in this moment. Seokjin.

You needed to speak to him, you felt like he would have answers for you, he could tell you what to do. Before you could open your contacts you were falling through the air, phone flying from your grasp, before you slammed face first into the solid ground, cushioned only by dead leaves and shrubbery.

It took you a moment to realize that you must have tripped. Your face was now laying against something wet. You winced as you slowly picked your upper body up off the forest floor with the palms of your already damaged hands. Eyes scrunched in pain, you let your body fall back down when your muscles protested the movement. You turned your head to the side and huffed out a breath, blowing the hair that had fallen around your face. You picked your head up slightly to look to where your phone had fallen, seeing it was only a few feet in front of you, luckily not broken.

You reached out your arm to try and grab for it when you heard footsteps. Immediately your body stiffened and you twisted yourself from your prone position to try and see who was approaching. Now laying on your back, propped up on your elbows, you groaned in pain at your quick movements, but were quickly met with two sets of worried eyes.

“YN!” A familiar voice shouted. How did they find me? You weren’t sure how far you ran, but it couldn’t have been that far. How long have you been gone?

At the realization that the newcomers were safe, you closed your eyes and let your head fall back onto the cool ground, letting out a relieved, albeit painful, sigh.

“YN, are you ok!?” Seokjin’s frantic voice was now in your ear as you heard his knees hit the ground next to your face. Slowly, you opened one eye, taking in Jin’s panicked expression. His dark hair was a frazzled mess, like he had been running his hands through it.

You tried rolling onto your side, whining in pain in the process, but Seokjin put his hand on your shoulder, stopping you short. Your breathing was starting to even out, but as the adrenaline in your body wore off, the pain was hitting you full force. As you opened both eyes, you saw both of Jin’s hands hovering over your body like he was afraid to touch you and damage you further. A few feet behind him, also on his knees, you saw Namjoon. As soon as you actually acknowledged their presence, Seokjin took his backpack off his shoulders and immediately started tending to your wounds. He noticed how bloody your feet were, and decided to work on them first. It took you a moment to relax to his touch, still on edge from the recent events. As you took in your surroundings, you now noticed there was a third person, standing a few feet behind Namjoon. You startled a bit upon meeting the new man’s eyes. The stranger jumped a bit at the eye contact, much to your surprise.

Namjoon’s brow was furrowed in worry, but when he noticed you jump, he followed your gaze to the other man. The newcomer was tall, but not as tall as Namjoon, and looked to be closer to your age than Namjoon or Seokjin, maybe even younger than you. He had dark, curly hair that was falling into his eyes. Much like the other two, he was extremely handsome with a sharp jawline and round, doe like eyes. He looked a little embarrassed by your intense stare and diverted his eyes to the ground in front of him.

“Ah - YN, this is Jungkook,” Namjoon started, gesturing his hands towards the shy boy, “he’s the maknae of our group.”

You slowly nodded your head before letting your eyes slip closed again. Seokjin was disinfecting and bandaging the wounds on your feet and legs and though he was gentle, you were still in a great deal of pain. Your chest felt heavy, a foreign pressure near your ribs. It was becoming a little hard to breathe in the position you were in.

“I’m sorry,” Jin apologized as you winced, “what the hell happened to you YN? I think you may have a couple bruised ribs.” He seemed to notice your pained expression and helped turn you on your undamaged side.

Eyes still closed, you let out a huff. “I ran back home after you left. When I got to the orchard, I saw Hyunwoo.”

You heard someone inhale a sharp breath, but who it was, was a mystery to you. You opened your eyes, staring directly into Seokjin’s as you finished, “He was talking to my dad. They were shaking hands,” you could feel yourself starting to fall into a panic as you remembered the scene, “when he left, he saw me. It- it was like he- he knew I was standing, watching them the whole time. I don’t think my dad saw me, but as soon as Hyunwoo got in his car, I took off. I- I’m scared,” you whined out the last words, feeling overwhelmed by the events of today. You felt Seokjin’s thumb rubbing a soothing circle on the ankle he was currently wrapping as you finished your story.

“You made the right choice to run, YN,” Jin mumbled as he looked up at your face, “Who knows what was going on there, or if he’s looking for you. We shouldn’t stay here long, just in case,” he murmured the last part, almost as if speaking to himself.

“How far are we from the farm?” You asked, curious how far you ran.

“About a mile, a little ways from the stream,” he answered easily.

Namjoon got up from his kneeling position and walked over to your side, Jungkook following close behind like a puppy. You absently thought how adorable he was as you watched him sit on the forest floor behind Seokjin. He reached out to Jin and grabbed onto the back of his shirt, almost like it was a comfort to be near him. You could understand why he felt that way, Seokjin had this comforting aura about him. You felt safe with him, even though you barely knew each other.

Namjoon was now on your opposite side as Jin moved up your body to take a look at the scrapes on the side of your face. “I agree with Jin. We should get going as soon as you’re able to get up. We aren’t too far away from the stream we were at earlier. Probably wouldn’t be too hard to track us here.” Namjoon reached out a hand, like he was going to touch your face, or hair, but thought better of it and pulled away. You thought the action was a little strange, but decided not to dwell on it.

“What are you guys doing out here anyways?” You asked, remembering they had left not too long ago. “How did you find me?”

Namjoon’s face aggressively blushed as he looked over at Seokjin who looked unbothered. “We wanted to be near you in case something happened,” he managed without looking at you, “in case you called.”

You let out a dry laugh, the first the boys had heard from you. “I was actually taking my phone out to call Seokjin when I fell.”

Namjoon gave you a tight lipped smile, “I was about to ask.”

Seokjin was wiping a cotton ball at your bloodied face now, “It’s going to be getting dark soon. We should get going, do you think you can stand?” He asked you, assessing your body one more time and nodding quickly to himself once he determined you were ok.

You nodded a bit, sitting up on your elbows. You winced as you went to tidy your hair that was surely a rat’s nest. “Yeah, just - just give me a minute.” You mustered what energy you had left and pushed yourself onto your feet.

“I left my shoes back at the orchard,” you said as you stood up to your full height, “kind of dumb me.” You watched as Seokjin repacked his bag and stood up, the younger man standing up almost completely in sync, his hand still gripped on Jin’s shirt. The older man seemed completely unbothered by the other’s action, like it was completely normal. Namjoon watched you as you curiously eyed Jungkook.

“We went back to the other’s before heading towards your farm. Kookie wanted to come with.” He said with a fond smile as he mentioned the younger boy.

Kookie. How cute. “Where are the others?” You asked as Namjoon stood up and walked towards his brothers.

Jin slung his pack over his broad shoulders as he answered you, “We’re staying in an abandoned warehouse a few miles from here.” You knew exactly the one he was talking about. It was a big grey industrial building at the top of a quarry. The quarry was usually partially filled with water, and was no longer used. The warehouse used to house the stone that was mined there, but that was decades ago.

“Yeah - I know the one.” Almost all of the high school parties Mina tried to get you to attend were held at that warehouse.

Seokjin nodded at Namjoon, and the three men started to walk in the direction of the warehouse. You started to follow after them, but as soon as you took a step you let out a pained whimper, causing Seokjin, Namjoon, and Jungkook to whip their heads in your direction.

“Hey - hey, wait,” Seokjin started, talking quick steps towards you, arms outstretched, “does it hurt to put pressure on it?”

You nodded, trying to fight the tears that were threatening to fall by biting hard into your lower lip. Jin looked over his shoulder at Jungkook who was slowly approaching you both. “Do you think you can carry her, Kook?”

The boy in question was now standing almost directly behind Jin with a hesitant look on his face. You looked up at him and saw the timidness in his expression, “It’s ok, really. I can do it.” You winced as you tried to take another step.

“YN,” Jin said firmly. You haven’t heard him be this serious before, “Please don’t.”

You looked down to the ground and bit your lip again, nodding. Upon seeing your pain, Jungkook moved in front of Seokjin and turned his back to you. It took you a moment to realize he was kneeling down for you to jump on his back. You hesitated, you didn’t know this man, and he hasn’t spoken a single word since arriving here. Namjoon seemed to notice the resistance in your body language as he walked over and placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s ok, YN. Kookie is really strong,” he explained, masking your true reasons for hesitating with worry for the young man, “you’ll both be fine.” He gave you a reassuring smile before walking next to Seokjin.

You slowly placed both of your hands on Jungkook’s shoulders and hobbled over until you could lean your front onto his back. It was an awkward position, made even more awkward by the fact you didn’t know the person who the back belonged to. As Jungkook stood up, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held on for dear life. “I wont drop you, Noona.” You startled at the first words spoken by the boy, blinking owlishly. You could hear Seokjin’s giggle from behind you both. You decided to trust Jungkook and loosened your grip a bit.

“Ready?” Namjoon asked the group. After receiving nods and noises of affirmation, the four of you set off in the direction of the quarry.

The walk to the quarry took about an hour, with you all moving a little slower than normal. Namjoon wasn’t lying when he said Jungkook was strong. He has had you on his back the entire walk, only setting you down once to take a drink from Seokjin’s water bottle. You were more than a little impressed by the young man’s stamina.

You realized you were getting close to the quarry when you started to see old dilapidated fencing and signage that contained warnings about cliffs and falling rock. As you reached the edge of the forest, you saw a clearing of trees that had one path leading down into the quarry that had a broken fence attempting to block it, and another path leading up towards the abandoned warehouse. You haven’t seen the warehouse since you were in highschool, having not the greatest memories here, you tried to stay away.

As you approached the large building, you weren’t able to outwardly tell anyone was living in it. The outside was all cement with large metal and glass windows that surrounded the upper perimeter of the structure. The roof was a large pyramid shape that used to hold glass, but was now a shell of metal and wire, with some jagged pieces of leftover glass hanging on. You knew from previous experiences that there was no electricity in the building, and when it got dark, it was incredibly dark out here, no surrounding city lights to illuminate the place. You weren’t fond of the dark and the sun would be setting soon, giving you an uneasy feeling.

Jungkook was beginning to slow down a bit, tiring from walking uphill to the warehouse. The path to get to the building was fairly long and winding. Your arms were crossed haphazardly across Jungkook’s chest to anchor you to his back and when you felt his breathing starting to pick up, you absentmindedly started rubbing one of your hands slowly up and down his pectoral. He straightened up at your movements and you immediately stopped, fearing you had made him uncomfortable. Your cheeks heated and you were glad he couldn’t see your face at the moment. You were sure because of his timid nature, he wasn’t faring much better.

“You said you knew this place, have you been here before?” Namjoon asked curiously, ever the observant one.

You nodded, “In highschool. Haven’t been here in years, though.” You explained. You turned your head to the right to see Namjoon and Seokjin walking together… holding hands? You thought briefly about how attached Jungkook had been to Seokjin earlier, holding onto him and following him around. Maybe it was a comfort thing? You filed away the thought for a later time. They weren’t looking at you, but Namjoon nodded in acknowledgement to what you said.

“We’ve only been staying here for a few weeks,” Namjoon started to elaborate, “there are two more of our group inside. Don’t worry, they’re nice,” he explained quickly upon seeing apprehension written all over your face, “we’ve all known each other a long time, most of us lived together at Big Hit.” Namjoon and Seokjin both grimaced at the memory.

Seokjin took over for the other, “Yoongi and Hoseok are,” he hesitated, “different.” He spoke with careful words, “Yoongi is a little abrasive, just be ready for that. He says what he wants and doesn’t really hold back. He doesn’t trust easily, if at all, so I just want to prepare you for that,” your heart sank a little, feeling empathetic towards the man you haven’t even met, but continued listening carefully to Jin’s words, “Hoseok is a little mysterious. He’s really outgoing and very friendly,” Seokjin giggled, “he’s a lot like a golden retriever, but like Yoongi, he doesn’t trust easily. He’s had a really rough time since we left the facility,” Seokjin’s expression changed into something darker, something you haven’t seen on the man before.

You hurt for these men. They’ve been through so much. You can’t imagine the things they’ve seen or were put through, and you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. One thing you did know, though, was that you felt inclined to do something, to help, in any way that you could, seeing as they have been nothing but helpful toward you. You weren’t sure what you could even do to help them, having not been through the things they have. You really didn’t know much about Big Hit, or about designer baby companies in general. Your parents have hidden you away from the outside world, keeping you sheltered from what goes on in places like those. You’re starting to wonder if maybe that had done more harm than good.

“Thank you,” you started, gaining the attention of all three men with you, “for being so kind to me. I wasn’t the most welcoming when we met, but I - I just want you to know I’m thankful for you guys, even if we don’t really know each other. Even if I’m not totally sure what’s going on, or what’s going to happen.” You laid your head on Jungkook’s shoulder as you finished speaking, feeling exhausted. You didn’t want to think about how tired poor Jungkook was feeling.

Namjoon nodded and gave you a small smile before saying, “We couldn’t let what happened to us, happen to anyone else. If we can put a stop to DNA poaching, we will.” His tone conveyed so much conviction, you couldn’t help but believe him, when suddenly you remember something he said earlier.

“Didn’t you say that some of your… friends were still at Big Hit?” You weren’t sure what to call them. Family? They definitely seemed closer than just friends. You felt Jungkook stiffen beneath you and you were momentarily worried you had upset him, before Seokjin started to explain.

“Yes, two others,” Jin spoke quietly. Something dark flashed across his eyes as he continued, “We call them the twins, Jimin and Taehyung. They’re really close.” Namjoon smiled softly after the mention of his two friends, but continued staring at the ground as you all walked together. “They’re tough. At least, Jimin is, and Taehyung will be ok if he stays with Jimin. We’re doing everything we can to get them out. Yoongi spends all his time trying to figure out a way to hack into Big Hit’s system and break them out of there,” Seokjin let out a long sigh before turning to look at you, “They belong with us. We all belong together.”

Your chest hurt at Seokjin’s words. You could tell how much the six other men meant to him, how much they all meant to one another. The look Jin and Namjoon were currently giving each other proved as much. Namjoon slowly rubbed his free hand up and down Jin’s arm in a comforting manner. You internally smiled at the action. You felt a slight ease at the knowledge that they had each other through everything they had been through, and everything they were going through now. Your heart broke at the thought of the twins still being stuck at Big Hit.

“We’re here,” Namjoon said softly, “I’m going to let the others know we have company,” he said to Jungkook and Jin, who both nodded in affirmation, before he walked through a large metal door on the side of the building. The way Namjoon spoke made you worry. What if the others didn’t like you? What if they wanted you to leave? Jin did tell you that they weren’t very trusting, understandably so. But would that mean they wouldn’t trust you either?

As you and the two men approached the side of the warehouse, Jungkook slowly knelt down to let you off his back, which you happily obliged. You didn’t mind being carried, but you felt incredibly bad for the young man and his poor muscles. As you slid onto the ground, you used Jungkook’s shoulders for support. When both your feet were on solid ground, you eased up to your full height, ignoring the stinging pain in the soles of your feet. You hobbled over to the side of the building and briefly took in your haggard appearance. Both feet and hands were wrapped in bandages, your ankles were bloodied, and your left forearm was sporting a rather nasty purple bruise. You could only imagine what your face looked like.

While you were lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed Jungkook and Seokjin standing off to the side whispering to each other, not so discreetly staring at you. Jungkook was curious by nature, so of course he was incredibly curious about you. A beautiful natural born, a woman at that. He thought you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen, not that he had seen much outside his six best friends and the labs he’s lived at, but still. You were new and interesting to him. He desperately wanted to get to know you more, but he was nervous.

The loud bang of the metal door Namjoon had previously entered brought you out of your self conscious reverie, startling both you and Jungkook, causing you both to jump.

“YN,” Namjoon seemed a little out of breath, worrying you immediately, “do you have a phone?”

Your eyes widened for a moment before you nodded quickly. You pulled it out of your pocket to see you had twenty two notifications from your group chat, a missed call from Mina, some missed texts from your mom, and seven missed calls from your dad. You unlocked your phone and opened the text messages from your mom first.

From Mom [7:51 pm]: Where are you??

From Mom [7:52 pm]: We’re worried about you Pearl, please come home

From Mom [7:55 pm]: YN whatever happened we can explain, please just come home sweetie.

You swallowed a lump in your throat as you looked up at Namjoon. Your mom knew something. Whatever happened, she said. Her or your father must have known you saw him and Hyunwoo earlier. Why would she assume something happened if you never said anything? “I think they know,” you trailed off, noticing a small, blonde man bursting through the metal door and appearing behind Namjoon.

“Give it to me,” the shorter man demanded in a tone that made you flinch, holding his hand out to you.

Seokjin sighed as he rubbed his hand down his face. He walked over to the blonde and put his hand on his shoulder. “Ease up Yoongi. Remember how scared you were when we first found you?” Jin was speaking in a soft tone, but you could tell he was giving an order. Yoongi scoffed in your direction and then turned in Jin’s grasp, looking up at the much taller man.

“Fuck off, Jin. You’re going to trust some girl you just met? They probably tracked her all the way here,” his eyes were narrowed into tiny slits as he glared at Seokjin. Yoongi pushed past Jin, purposely bumping into his shoulder on the way back through the door. You could hear Namjoon sigh from next to you. Jin watched on sadly as Yoongi stormed off before turning around to take in your somewhat pathetic form. You were battered and bruised, still a little bloody, clothes dirty, the bottom of your pants ripped and wet from falling. You stood with your shoulders hunched, eyes trained on the ground in front of you, one hand down at your side and the other clasping your hurt ribcage, looking as small as you could make yourself. Jin’s heart broke at the sight of you, and he could tell Namjoon was feeling the same by the quick glance they shared. Namjoon walked over to you and placed his large hand on your shoulder, causing you to peer up at him through your long lashes. He couldn’t help but think you must be the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, even in the state you were in currently.

“I’m sorry about him, like Jin said, he can come off a little… strong,” Namjoon glanced behind him at Jin, who nodded in agreement, “He only wants what’s best for the rest of us, and he is right, even though he may not have gone about it the right way. They can track your phone, and it would be smart to get rid of it, or at least let Yoongi hack it.”

You instantly understood why Yoongi had reacted to you in the way that he had, and you definitely didn’t hold it against him. You nodded your head a little too quickly at Namjoon, “No, I understand. Can- can I just text my friends? They’re probably worried about me, and I don’t know when I’ll get to see them next.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened at the small way you asked him for permission. He didn’t want you to feel like a prisoner in any way. You were a guest, and hopefully with time, a part of their little family. “Of course, YN.”

You gave him a small smile in thanks before unlocking your phone and opening your group chat. You ignored the massive onslaught of text messages and opted for sending something short and sweet so they knew you were ok. You just hoped they’d understand not to come looking for you. You knew how Mina could get when she was worried.

From you [8:23 pm]: hey guys, sorry I can’t explain right now, but i’m not going to be home for a while. I’m safe, please don’t worry. I will get in contact with you both asap. Please, please don’t come looking for me.

You didn’t wait for a reply, realizing you probably wouldn’t be able to handle ignoring whatever it was that Mina or Woo would say in response. You locked your phone before handing it to Namjoon who pocketed it. “I’ll give this to Yoongi later.”

You weren’t super keen on letting the man who wasn’t very fond of you go through your personal device, but you figured it was for the best and Namjoon wouldn’t lead you astray. At least, you hoped as much. Namjoon wrapped one of his long arms under your own arms to help lead you into the warehouse as Jungkook, who had been completely silent throughout the whole ordeal, walked over to your other side to help. Seokjin trailed behind the three of you as you entered the building.

Yoongi didn’t like this. He didn’t like it one bit. As soon as Namjoon had come back to their temporary home, bursting through his door, letting him know they found you, he knew he didn’t like you. Yoongi had hoped against all hope that they wouldn’t find you, or if they did, you wouldn’t believe them or agree to come with them. He was actually positive that you would, in fact, tell them to fuck off. But the fact that you were now here told him you were weak, pathetic even. You would’ve gone with any stranger that told you their sob story. Or at least, that’s what he thought.

The second Yoongi found out about the young girl, a natural born, that was just like them, he wanted to believe it wasn’t true. What he had found in these six other men, was something he had never felt before. He felt like he was home when he was with them. Bringing you into the equation would only ruin things, make the others forget about him, love him less. He needed them, and they needed him. They didn’t need you, and he was going to make Namjoon and Seokjin see that, too. They were so adamant on finding you, on making sure Hyunwoo and the others never got their hands on you. But why? What made you so special? Sure, you were female, a rarity when it came to natural borns with near perfect DNA. When it came to natural borns with perfect markers in their DNA, males were much more common. But that didn’t mean they had to go and risk their lives, their safety, for you. He knew Namjoon wouldn’t let up, though. He made it his life mission to help natural borns like themselves, save them from the horrors they had gone through.

Yoongi was bitter. That much was obvious to anyone in the warehouse. But he also didn’t want to let you destroy the relationship and bond that the seven of them built together. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure you hated it here. Make sure you wanted to leave after he was done with you. He couldn’t watch his family fall apart because of some stranger, all because Namjoon was a martyr by nature. No, he couldn’t allow it.

But the second he took one look at you, standing outside, wet and bloody, saw the look in your big beautiful eyes as he so heartlessly demanded things from you, he knew he stood no chance.

To be continued...

A/N: WOO! All the boys have been introduced, but we still need to meet two of them. Let me know what you thought! My asks are always open. I also have character sheets for all the boys and YN if you want to know specifics about them. I love hearing from you guys!

xx Des

taglist: @minifruity @mrcleanheichou @arantxaglz

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full-of-jams · 4 years

Text

Good Riddance #1

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Summary: There were two things life taught you. Money bought comfort, not happiness. And love was always a gateway to pain. When your former best friend Jimin suddenly returns into your life, he challenges your belief and rips open the past you tried so hard to forget.

Genre: heirs au, girl boss, e2l, angst, mutual pining, eventual smut, feat. OT7

Warnings: swearing, Jin’s dad jokes, prissy Namjoon, a very sunny dispositioned Hobi :)

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: I decided to rewrite Good Riddance. After I finished outlining the entire plot, I realized that the characters and story were way more nuanced. So here we go!

°°°°°°°

It was a clear night. A bit chilly for mid-September, but you preferred the cold caress of the evening breeze over the smothering atmosphere of the party. The sky was painted dark, flecked with twinkling stars. You tried to blend out the lively buzz below you as you soaked in the view. Stars were scarce commodity in the City and being out here in the countryside was a rare treat nowadays.

You let out a sigh as you leaned against the balcony and took a careful sip from your glass of champagne. The icy railing bit into your skin, but you ignored the rising goosebumps. Light and music spilled out onto the ground floor terrace beneath you. People were enjoying themselves, laughing and chatting away. Usually you didn’t mind being amidst the crowd, but tonight you gladly exchanged the glittering socialite circles for a quiet reprieve.

You felt suffocated; you had to escape.

***

It started out as a normal Saturday evening. A celebratory one at that.

“Yeah man! Namjoons! Congrats! I can’t believe you’re getting hitched!” your friend Jin almost yelled across the room. He joyously greeted the man of the night and patted him eagerly on his back.

“Ah, hyung! You almost made me spill my drink! Do you know how much this tux cost me?” Namjoon asked. Despite his complaint, he couldn’t keep his goofy grin off his face. You fondly looked at both of your childhood friends.

“C’mon don’t be so stingy Mr. Investment Banker. You can make that money back in an hour. Here, in celebration of you finally relieving your beloved out of her five-year long misery, I’ll treat you to a new joke of mine!”

Namjoon threw you a pleading glance. You simply shrugged and gestured for Jin to continue.

“This is an exclusive, so stop being so ungrateful you lot! Did you hear about the notebook who got engaged to the pencil?” Jin happily continued, glancing between the two of you, waiting for a response.

“No…?” you answered as you took a swig of champagne.

“She finally found Mr. Write!” Jin howled gleefully. You shouldn’t have laughed. It really wasn’t that funny of a joke, but Jin’s contagious cackle had you spitting out your drink.

Straight into Namjoon’s face.

“Oh my god! Joons! I’m so sorry,” you breathed between your gasps of laughter. You hastily grabbed some napkins off of a waiter passing by and started wiping his face. Jin was cracking up next to you, basically on the floor.

“Why did I ever expect anything else from the both of you? Why are we friends again?” Namjoon muttered in irritation as he took a napkin off your hands and patted down his tux.

You managed to stifle your laughter, “Because you looooove us. I’m sorry Joonie, really! I’ll pay your dry-cleaning.” You gave him your best puppy eye impression.

“Ugh, it’s fine Y/N. Stop trying to be cute, it’s giving me the creeps,” Namjoon groaned. You dropped your puppy eyes and gave him a stink eye instead.

Jin finally calmed down and threw an arm over his friend’s shoulder. “C’mon Namjoon, Y/N’s right. You love us. Your life would be boring without us. If it weren’t for your exquisite, completely-out-of-your-league fiancée, we’d be getting married right now!”

“You wish,” Namjoon grumbled.

“I’m handsome, I’m funny, I can cook, I’m filthy rich, I’m a catch!” Jin exclaimed indignantly.

You nodded in solemn agreement, “He’s got a point. He’s a catch. You would make a lovely couple.” Your somber façade started to crack as another giggle escaped your lips.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m glad at least the two of you are having fun. On that note, did you see Jimin yet? I heard he’s back in town, he RSVP’d to the party”.

Your smile dropped; every trace of humor gone. “Who?”

Namjoon gave you a strange look and repeated slowly, “Park Jimin. He’s supposed to be here tonight.”

Your heart dropped. Fuck.

You forced a smile back on your face and ignored the furtive glance Jin gave Namjoon. “Oh really? He’s back? How long has it been? I’m sure his family must have missed him.”

“I’m pretty sure the whole City missed our golden boy,” Namjoon said with an awkward laugh.

Your voice turned steely, “Not sure I’d go as far as the whole City, but yeah I can imagine how he has them fooled and wrapped around his finger. I think I better go refill my glass, most of it landed on your face.” You excused yourself and walked away from the boys. In the background you heard Jin reprimand Namjoon, “Way to kill the mood, man!”

“I thought she should know. Better than to run head-first into him!”

“Whatever, c’mon take me to your bride-to-be! I need to tell her my joke!”

***

Later that evening you found yourself on the third-floor guest bedroom balcony, indulging in the starry night sky.

Alone.

You tried to lose yourself in the moment, telling yourself to enjoy this rare occasion.

After a view minutes you decided your attempts were futile. Who were you kidding? You were hiding.

Suddenly the bedroom door opened behind you, light spilled in from the hallway. You shifted your eyes and saw the outline of a sleek figure standing in the doorway.

You immediately straightened up, your long red dress rustled slightly against your body. The figure stilled for a second as he scanned the dark space. His eyes landed on you. He closed the door and slowly crossed the room.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You carefully kept a blank face and trained your gaze back to the seemingly captivating night sky. You took another big sip of champagne.

“Here you are, Y/N,” the words came out in a soft breath. His voice was quiet, but it was unmistakably deeper than the last time you heard it.

Don’t you get it? I don’t want you here. No one wants you here. The never-ending mantra that haunted you for the last decade. You wanted it to stop.

“Why are you hiding up here?” You threw him a sideways glance as he stepped up next to your side. The moonlight hit his cheekbones, his features were half lit and half hidden in the shadows.

Immediate regret coursed through your mind.

He looked good.

You hated that bastard.

“Who said I was hiding?” you answered in a disinterested tone. He was of course right, but he didn’t have to know that. „I was trying to enjoy my peace and quiet. Alone.” You waved your glass in his general direction without sparing him another glance.

Silence fell; you could feel his gaze on you. You silently prayed he would turn around and leave. Unfortunately he didn’t, or more likely refused to take the hint.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me. I thought I recognized you earlier. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve guessed you were avoiding me. But that can’t be it, the great Y/N is nothing if not head-on. It’s good to see you again,” he said in an amused tone.

You tensed at his words, your inner voice warring whether to simply ignore him or not. Your rational side sighed in defeat as you gave up your haphazard attempt at stargazing and reluctantly turned your attention to the boy next to you. There was no point in avoiding him, your voice justified. As much as you wanted to, people like the both of you couldn’t afford to ignore each other. You both knew this.

Might as well rip the Band-Aid off now, fast.

“What are you doing here, Park? Did you run out of millionaires to greet downstairs, who’d pat your back and toast on your return to the City? Maybe you shouldn’t have hijacked Namjoon’s engagement party for this. But then again, manners were never your strong suit.” You willed yourself to sound bored and took a measured drink from your glass.

There was another beat of silence as your words hung in the air. You snuck a closer look at him. His hair was parted sideways, falling slightly into his eyes. He wore an elegant waistcoat and slacks. A simple black tie graced his neck.

The years did him well. He looked different than you remembered. Better.

Fuck. You had to have a strict conversation with that inner voice of yours.

As your gaze moved back up, you noticed that his eyes were searching your face. All of a sudden the evening air seemed cold. You had forgotten how his gaze always made you feel. Bared and exposed. Despite your discomfort, you kept your poker face and refused to break the stifling awkwardness. Both of you let another second of silence pass.

Go away.

“Sharp-tongued and witty as ever. I missed that.” He chuckled.

Liar. Still, your defiant little heart skipped a beat. You silently vowed to yourself to meditate more. That mind over matter shit was clearly not kicking in.

“I’m already done with all the millionaires downstairs. So I thought I’d come and greet some old friends up here.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and gave you a nonchalant shrug.

“We’re not friends, Park.” you shot back.

Jimin dramatically clutched his chest as if hit by a bullet. “Harsh words. And here I thought you’d be the happiest one to see me.”

Your only response was hard silence. Go away. Please.

He continued to disregard your silent prayers, “And what’s up with calling me Park? We’re not in high school anymore. Calling people by their last name is not gonna earn you any street cred, you know? Is this how you treat all your clients? I’m disappointed, tsk.” The boy clicked his tongue in taunting disapproval.

Your brain whirred as you processed what he just said. Shit. Shit.

“Your father is our new client with that new mystery project?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

A slight frown set between his eyes. “My father? Park Corp. consists of more than just my father. And he’s definitely not going to be working on that project.”

You dismissed his words with a wave of your hand, “Park Corp., your father, all the same. It’s just semantics.” Jimin wanted to argue back, but you ignored him and continued, “Don’t be so naïve, Park.” You quirked an eyebrow as you used his last name again. Nobody told you what you could or couldn’t do.

“Your old man never lets his turf go unsupervised, especially if it’s a project developed in the City. You should know that better than anyone else. But how did my dad agree to this? He said he’d never work with your father. He thinks money and business ruin good friendships…” You suddenly realized you were babbling and bit down on your tongue.

Damn it, how do you end this conversation fast? Ideally in a way which didn’t involve insulting the son of your biggest new client. Okay, maybe a bit of insulting was allowed. He wasn’t your client yet.

Jimin’s frown deepened before it was slowly replaced by a shrewd smile.

Uh oh. This didn’t bode well.

“Your father agreed to this because I convinced him.” His stupid smile grew wider as he leaned in. Your mind went blank at his sudden proximity, his woodsy scent marred your senses. “As I said, Park Corp. consists of more than just my father. He’s not overseeing this project. I am.”

You swallowed hard.

No one wants you here.

“Jimin. What do you want from me?” You had to shut him down, you had to shut your memories down.

He laughed quietly, leaned in even closer and breathed against your ear, “Like you said, I just wanted to toast with some of my millionaire friends.“ In one smooth move he swiped the glass out of your hand and knocked back the rest of your champagne.

You were too perplexed to react.

“I’ll leave you to your peace and quiet again. I should go greet some other millionaires, maybe even a billionaire or two. See you Monday,“ Jimin winked and turned to leave.

See you Monday. See you Monday?!

He stopped at the balcony door, turned around and looked at you again for another long moment. “Before I forget. I meant it when I said it’s good to see you again.” There was an odd sincerity in his voice. Your heart constricted. “You look good Y/N. I missed you.” With those words he headed back inside.

Fuck.

You were out of champagne.

***

>Beep<

“Yes Ms. L/N?”

“Ash, is this the updated schedule for today?”

“Yes, Ms. L/N. Your conference call with the London team on the current bidding process is in 15 minutes. At 10.30 a.m. there’s the project briefing with Eptá. You have a lunch date with Mr. Kim today. I placed a reservation at the restaurant at 1 p.m. I also cleared your afternoon schedule, per your request, so you can go investigate the properties. And at 8 p.m. you have your call with the West Coast team on the new development portfolio. It hasn’t changed since the last time you asked me 20 minutes ago.”

You ignored the slight annoyance in your assistant’s voice. Ash was nothing if not efficient. How wonderful.

“Ok thanks Ash.”

>Beep<

“Ms. L/N, you seem a bit on edge today. Would you like some chamomile tea to calm your nerves?” she added in a sugary voice.

How. Wonderful.

“That’s very thoughtful of you Ash, but I think I’ll pass,” you answered just as sweetly. “Please follow up with Ren on the financial analysis and make sure to bring me the finalized report by end of today.”

There was a brief pause on the line.

“Of course, Ms. L/N.”

>Beep<

You leaned back in your chair and let out a groan. How did you let yourself get to this point?

It was Monday morning. Two restless nights and three morning espressos in, you had to acknowledge that your brief conversation with Jimin affected you more than you were willing to admit.

Damn that boy and his empty words.

You closed your eyes and focused your mind on your breathing. After a few moments you released all your tension, determined to concentrate on the matters at hand. Any useless thought spent on that guy was just a waste of your precious energy.

Thankfully you were easily able to get back in the game. Your morning call went well. The team did excellent research and prep work and with a little bit of luck the bid would be as good as yours.

>Beep<

“Ms. L/N, your 10:30 appointment has arrived. Mr. Gardner and Mr. Jung have just registered at reception.”

“Send them straight in once they’re here.”

>Beep<

You briefly checked your appearance in the standing mirror and straightened your blouse. Then you gathered the files that you’ve carefully studied over the past week and brought everything to your office seating area. You were told you were specifically requested by this client and you wondered what made them so special. Special enough for your father to insist.

There was a knock on your door and then Ash came in followed by the two men.

“Mr. Gardner and Mr. Jung,” Ash announced.

You were about to greet your guests as you did double-take and froze. There, in the middle of your office stood Park Jimin. He wore a fitted light grey suit with a slim black tie, his hair elegantly sleeked back. Next to him his companion wore something more casual and flowy. His auburn mop of hair offset the cream color of his suit.

What the hell? Is this some kind of sick joke?

It took you a moment to realize that you blurted that last thought out loud. You cleared your throat and tried to compose yourself. “What are you doing here?” A clear hint of dread seeped into your voice.

Jimin laughed at your bewildered expression. Ash and Jimin’s companion glanced curiously between the both of you.

“I’m here to talk business, remember? C’mon you didn’t drink that much at the party to have a blackout. You were sulking around in the corner for the rest of the night. Don’t deny it, I saw you.”

You scowled at him. “Last time I checked your name was not Mr. Gardner nor Mr. Jung and you for sure don’t work for a company called Eptá. What game are you playing Park J…?”

Suddenly Jimin’s companion interrupted you,“Ms. L/N, how about we discuss our matters in a more private setting?” He briefly eyed Ash and the open door to the rest of your office floor.

You gave him an irritated glance but decided to concede. He was right, there was no point in making a scene in the middle of the office. Work was work and you were a professional. You could deal with that jerk later.

“Yes, of course. My apologies, I got carried away. Can I offer you gentlemen something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee would be amazing,” Jimin quipped while he sauntered to the chairs, unbuttoned his suit and sat down.

You threw him a dirty look before you turned to Ash who was taking in the entire scene with immense interest. “Ash could you please bring us some coffee and water?” You turned back to the companion and added, “Please have a seat.”

Once Ash left the room and everyone sat down, Jimin’s companion reached out his hand. “I’m Jung Hoseok, nice to meet you. My partner here has told me a lot about you. I’m sorry if we surprised you like this. Unfortunately, we have to treat the topics we are to discuss today with the highest discretion.”

Jimin told this guy about you?

“Wow Mr. Jung, what an honor. I really enjoyed your last article in the Financial Times. It was very insightful and innovative. L/N Y/N. It’s nice to meet you too.” You shook his hand, your curiosity piqued.

Hoseok gave you an easy smile and continued, “Of course you already know Mr. Park here. You probably have a rough idea about the project at hand through the briefing document we sent through earlier, but before we continue to go into detail, I’d like to ask you to please review and sign this NDA.”

You weren’t unfamiliar with signing NDAs. Real estate development was a lucrative but sensitive business, especially in this city. Client discretion and secrecy was always a given at your father’s company. But if it made your clients feel safer, you were also happy to sign a legal document to ensure no trade secrets were spilled.

While you read through the terms of the document, Ash came back with a tray of refreshments.

“Here’s two coffees, water, milk and sugar at your free disposal. And one chamomile tea for you Miss.” She set the teacup in front of you as you gave her a sharp look.

She remained unbothered and asked in a saccharine voice, “Is there anything else I can get you?”

This girl…

“That would be all,” you dismissed her out of your office. If she had time to be sassy, she could handle your curtness.

After you signed the NDA you reached for the briefing document and flipped through your notes. “Mr. Park, Mr. Jung, I understand your need for discretion, but I’m a bit confused. I reviewed the briefing document and it describes your plans to revitalize the shipyard district. It does provide significant redevelopment opportunities and I’m sure it’s a great investment due to the rising popularity of the area, but to be frank, this is nothing you should hide from your competitors. Actually, it would be more beneficial to publicly market the redevelopment, as it would draw in more investors and increase the property value at a faster pace.”

You paused for a second and looked up at the two men. Hoseok opened his mouth, but before he could jump in you smoothly continued, “But I’m sure two smart gentlemen like you already know all of this. I checked our company’s asset register and we have no significant ongoing activities there at the moment.”

Jimin lifted an expectant eyebrow. And?

Was this some weird game of his? A test? Fine, you could play along.

“What we do have is a full-blown development plan for 53rd Street, which I’ve been asked to work on off-record for a mystery project in the past month. So tell me, why are you really here? Let’s stop wasting our time pretending we’re interested in finding ways to remove and recycle rusty hulls.“

Hoseok looked positively impressed. Good. “Phew, you weren’t kidding Jimin when you said she was smart as a whip. You really did your homework Ms. L/N”.

Jimin complimented you in front of strangers? Somehow this notion bugged you even more.

You brushed off Hoseok’s comment. “Mr. Jung, please, that’s my job. If you’re that easily impressed maybe I should increase my rates,” you deadpanned.

Hoseok blinked at you for a moment until he realized you were joking and started to laugh.

You smiled back at him.

Business rule #1 – always have a friend on the other side.

Your gaze shifted to Jimin and you noticed he was quietly observing you. Once again you felt exposed. Just like on that night of the party.

Focus.

You stared straight back and silently challenged him to say something.

“Yes Y/N, you’re right. Let’s stop pretending.”

No manners, not even in a business environment. What did you expect?

“We’re looking to branch out Park Corp. The hospitality industry is changing; travel and lifestyle trends are changing. As leaders of this industry we should spearhead that change.”

It was the first time you heard him talk in such a serious and determined way.

He briefly nodded at Hoseok and Hoseok brought out a new briefing document. The real briefing document. It had the word ‘Gaea’ printed on the front.

As you flipped through it, your jaw dropped. Your animosities subdued by the remarkable idea which unfolded in front of your eyes. What you read and saw was one of the most ambitious projects ever drafted. You felt a mixture of skepticism but also awe and excitement bubble up inside of you.

“An eco-hotel?” you asked aloud.

Jimin snorted, “Please don’t insult my intelligence. Look again.”

For a brief second you had forgotten who sat opposite of you. You swallowed your retort and flipped through the document again, gathering your thoughts.

You tried a second time, “It’s a new luxury experience. Seamlessly blending sustainability with affluence. A fully integrated concept of lifestyle, art and nature encapsulated in its own microcosm.”

Bingo.

This time Jimin nodded eagerly and leaned forward. “The new generation has a different view on things. The success of our company, of any company, is being measured through the impact we make in this world. They are the ones who are the breadwinners. They are willing to go deep into their pockets to appease their conscience yet unwilling to give up the luxuries that they are used to.”

You carefully took a sip of your tea and asked, “So you’re appealing to their sense of guilt? I’m not sure that’s the smartest thing to do, especially when it comes to hospitality.”

Jimin shook his head. “No. Not at all. People don’t want to be confronted with sustainability mantras or their own carbon footprint at every corner they turn. We’re not here to preach to them. We do what we do best - offer them a beautiful escape from their daily lives.” His eyes glinted as he explained his vision.

Jimin continued, “Travelling is an indulgence. When people travel they want to be pampered. They want to feel special. The last thing they want is to have a mirror shoved in front of their face. They don’t want to sleep on scratchy cotton, just because it’s recycled. Not when they’re paying $300 a night.” Next to him Hoseok nodded in agreement. Jimin glanced over and gave him a small smile.

They are friends. You realized with a small pang. You immediately pushed that thought aside.

“But what they will be interested in is that the tomatoes in their $25 Insalata di Caprese are grown right in the rooftop gardens they visited in the morning. That the honey harvested from the 7th floor tastes floral whereas the honey from the 10th floor has a deep, rich aroma because the bees fly to the park facing west. They’ll be mesmerized to see that the calories they burn on our treadmills fuel the lights of the beautiful art installation in the courtyard below them. Depending on their exertion the art changes and evolves. They’ll be surprised when they realize that the filtered and recycled water pumped through the veins of the building, fueling the water installation, the swimming pool or their en-suite Jacuzzis, is grade A drinking water. We are increasing our guests’ sustainability literacy by taking them into a world of wonder, providing them luxury experiences and showing them that one doesn’t exclude the other.” Jimin paused briefly to take a drink from his coffee.

His eyes settled back on you as he set down his cup. “This is what my project Gaea is about. Modern Mother Nature in the palm of your hands. There’s more of course, but we don’t have to go into all of the details right now.”

There was a moment of silence as you let Jimin’s words sink in and thought about how to respond. You were surprised by his demeanor. Unlike some investors who thought that the millions in their pockets made them into walking gods, you knew he wasn’t a spoiled brat. The Jimin of your past has always been a hard worker. But this was different. There was a sense of conviction and passion in the way he talked about this project.

You decided to go with a safe response. “I never thought of you to be such tree-hugger and activist, Mr. Park.”

A slow smirk spread across his face. “Don’t misconstrue this, I’m not trying to play saint.”

You snorted dismissively at his remark. He was the golden boy, he always tried to play saint. And the people fell for it.

Hoseok gave the both of you a tentative look.

Jimin shrugged casually, “Above all, I’m interested in growing our company. Let me be clear - my goal is to be successful no matter what. Might as well make a difference while I’m at it.”

You tried hard to discern his intentions. Why was he trying to play the cold businessman when he was clearly passionate about this topic?

Focus. Focus on the work.

You went back to the briefing document and flipped through the pages again, putting your analyst brain to work. “This is an interesting concept. While not novel in the industry, the mixture of lifestyle, art, experience and luxury is definitely an untried combination. It could work…,” your voice trailed off in thought.

“But?” You lifted your head, Jimin gave you a piercing look. You were surprised by the earnestness you found in his face. He was interested to hear your opinion. Your intuition was right, this was clearly not just an investment project to him.

“It could also just be a trend, a fad. You’re investing $730 million here. Whatever you’re doing, you want it to stick the first time. Yes, concepts can be changed and the location we’re developing at is prime real estate. So it doesn’t lessen the value of the property, but it would damage your brand. It would still be considered a failure and that would stick to your name. I can’t stop you, but if you want to pursue this idea I would personally recommend you do some tests and market research first,“ you voiced your genuine concern. Regardless of how you felt about Park Jimin personally, you didn’t want to ill-advise your client.

Jimin’s grin returned and grew impossibly wider. He leaned forward and took another sip of coffee. “Is that concern I hear in your voice Y/N? I’m touched,” he said in mocking delight.

Maybe you were willing to make an exception with this client. What a cocky bastard.

“Thanks for worrying, but this will work. Do you really think our executive board would have approved that amount of money without asking exactly those questions and many more? Hoseok here grilled me like I was at the Spanish Inquisition before he agreed to work with me.”

His friend threw him an apologetic smile. “I’ve got a reputation and a career to uphold, man,” Hoseok insisted.

Jimin chuckled lightly and continued, “It won’t fail Y/N. What do you think I’ve been doing the last few years?”

I don’t want you here. You wouldn’t know. You didn’t care.

Focus.

“Research. It works, I’ve already proven it on a smaller scale.”

You perused his features. There was determination and confidence. Under any other circumstance you would’ve thought it was foolish confidence, but you also saw the way Hoseok looked at his business partner. If one of the world’s most renowned financial strategists had full faith in this endeavor, maybe so should you.

After you triple checked the numbers.

As if Hoseok read your mind he proposed, “Jimin, I suggest you ask Jungkook to send Ms. L/N the business case. I know it’s not strictly necessary, but she’s going to be part of the team, she signed your NDA. We should play with open cards.”

One heck of a team. To have Jung Hoseok as your financial advisor.

A new thought started to nag in the back of your head. Usually you would never ask, but this was Jimin you were talking about. You had to know.

“Why me?”

“Excuse me?”

“You mentioned you got my dad to agree to work with you. It mustn’t have been easy to convince him to break his principles. So why? Why go through all this effort?”

“Are you really asking me why I decided to hand a $730 million project to you on a silver platter?” Jimin asked in wry amusement.

Now that he put it that way, your question did sound dense. You brushed off the judgement. You had to know what you were getting yourself into. No way you were going in blind.

“Tell me,” you persisted, your face resolute.

He stared at you for a long moment, deliberating his answer.

“Actually Ms. L/N we decided to go…”

Jimin interrupted Hoseok, “I chose your company because you’re the best in the country, maybe even globally. We did an evaluation and you came out on top. Gaea is an important milestone for Park Corp., so I think it’s only obvious to go with the best to guarantee its success.”

You were surprisingly disappointed. What a textbook answer. You decided to dig deeper.

“I get why you chose to work with Spring Development, but this doesn’t answer the question why you specifically requested for me to work on this project.”

You remembered the heated discussion you had with your father. How you refused to blindly take on a client who you, and more importantly the internet, knew nothing about.

“Because you were recommended as the best,” Jimin simply said.

“Bullshit,” you fired back.

Jimin let out a low sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. “Why can’t you just let it go?” he muttered to himself.

You stiffened at his remark. What was that supposed to mean?

“It’s not bullshit. You were recommended as the best. I followed your Aquarium project,” he finally revealed.

He kept tabs on you? The Aquarium project? Normally you were pretty good at reading people, but deciphering this boy was becoming increasingly impossible.

“The Aquarium project was a disaster,” you retorted. You started to doubt this man’s sanity.

Hoseok coughed quietly and interrupted your exchange, “Ms. L/N I can understand your skepticism. You’re right the project was a disaster, but that was because the owner and investors were morons who didn’t listen to advice. It’s now up and running and it’s become profitable in less than 12 months. That’s a huge feat considering the circumstances. It shows that you can work under pressure, you’re creative and very good at what you do. Although we’ve assembled the best team, Gaea won’t be an easy undertaking. We want someone like you. We need someone like you.”

Jimin hummed in agreement.

This was not the answer you expected.

You straightened yourself up and made up your mind. Business was business, and Hoseok was right. This project was going to be a challenge. You loved a good challenge, and this was too good of an opportunity to let pass by. You were perfectly capable of keeping your private matters separate.

“Alright gentlemen, I look forward to working with you. Should I take you through our current development analysis?”

Next >>

°°°°°°°

12/04/20

375 notes · View notes

adrenaline-roulette · 4 years

Text

Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word Count: 5.5K+ Warnings: Language *Disclaimer, Hi everybody. I first of all would like to apologise to those who have been waiting for months for a new chapter, this chapter has been partially written since September, however in that time, my aunt passed away. It has hit me very hard, and during this time, I needed to take a step away from writing, to be with my family, and also to take time to look after myself and my mental health. I’m doing better now, and with that means I am slowly updating my works which have been neglected as of late. So for those who are returning viewers of this series, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming back and waiting with me. And for those new to this series, welcome and I hope you stay with us. Much love to you all!

Chapters One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, and Nine can be found here! (That’s right baby, we’ve officially reached double digits for chapters!)

Chapter Ten: Darkest paradise I’ve ever seen

Flying into Noumea, your headphones pressed snuggly against your ears, you watch as miles upon miles of crystal blue ocean spans ahead of you. From just about every direction you look through the small aeroplane window, all you can see is blue. That is aside from the tiny speck on the horizon, which you can only assume is in fact, your destination. It seems awfully far away, and a part of you has managed to convince the less logical section of your brain, that you still have plenty of time before you arrive. Before the plan takes motion. Before shit goes down. Or you have months to continue planning your take down of the Lushnick’s…. But as you gaze out the window once more, the tiny speck growing ever larger, your rational mind takes over, reminding you that in less than two weeks, provided everything went according to plan, the Lushnick’s would be yours.

As the plane touches down at La Tontouta international airport, you await the captain’s departure announcement before standing up and stretching your cramping legs, feeling your joints pop, and muscles ache from having spent too long in one position. Once the initial rush of passengers have passed you, you reach up into the overhead compartments and retrieve the navy blue rucksack you had stowed up there. With the bag flung over your shoulder, you disembark the plane, and head towards the baggage carousel within the terminal. Within your rucksack, along with a few emergency items on the off chance your bags were lost, included five various ID cards, all hand made for you by One’s slightly shady yet reliable connection; a wad of Pacific Franc, the currency of New Caledonia, and of course your laptop. One had assured you that the apartment you would be using as a base had all the setup you required, however you felt more confident with your own computer, even just as a backup for an emergency. As you cross the tarmac, you recall the burner phone One had given you upon your departure, the only contacts held within were those of the Ghost’s, though knowing that you still have the ability to communicate with your team before their arrival helped alleviate some of your nerves. Switching the phone off flight mode, you held it firmly in your sweaty palm, half expecting it to buzz to life with missed notifications, as it would if it were your true phone. The influx of notifications never come, there is however one which does buzz through. ‘Are you safe?’

You scan over the message again and again, reading just about every possible subtext into it within a matter of seconds, before finally, you take a deep breath in, hold it for ten seconds, then release. ‘It’s Four, don’t be so dramatic. He actually cares about you.’ You remind yourself, just as your thumbs tap against the phone keyboard. ‘Just landed. Collecting bags then heading to the apartment. Should be there within the hour.’ You reply, pocketing the phone again and keeping your eyes peeled for you luggage.

The phone vibrates again, but this time you ignore it, opting instead to find the Taxi rank now that you had procured your bags. On you way through the airport, you discard you boarding pass into a trashcan, saying a mental goodbye to the alias of Ginevra Connelly. Of course you still kept the ID card with Ginevra’s details in your bag just in case, but the aim was to only use each alias once. One for flying, one for working, and one for personal business. The others were just there if any unexpected events should arise. Once outside, you only need wait a few minutes before a taxi pulls up, the driver popping the trunk of the car for you to deposit your bags. Once the trunk is closed, you slide into the back seat, sitting directly behind the driver. “Bonjour.” The driver offers with a small smile, meeting your eyes in the rear-view mirror.

You smile gently back. “Bonjour.” You greet, before reciting off the address to the apartment in Noumea which One had insisted you memorise.

With a nod of his head, the taxi driver speeds off, either ignoring or simply disregarding all speed signs which he passed. As he drove like a bat out of hell, you check your phone once more. ‘That’s good. Glad you’re alright.’ Four had replied, earning a small smile to creep over your lips.

‘Well, the flight didn’t kill me. Can’t say the same about my driver though….’

‘Axe murderer?’

‘Nothing quite as exciting. Or at least, I didn’t notice an axe when I checked the trunk…. Just a crazy driver is all. You’ll see when you get here. It looks to be a trend.’

‘Can’t wait!’ Before a rapid second response of. ‘Stay out of trouble until I get there please?’

‘I promise.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Love yo-‘ You begin typing, before frantically deleting the characters. As much as you wanted to send the message, you just couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it. Something about sending those words, via a burner phone while you’re in a totally different country, just felt wrong. Perhaps that was the nerves of the mission talking? No matter, you would saver the phrase for when you saw Four in person.

You put your phone away after that, not trusting yourself to continue the conversation with the direction it was headed. You knew Four was still, not necessarily mad at you, but disappointed that you hadn’t told him of your early departure. You were also acutely aware of his fear for you being in a foreign country all alone. You were positive that if it hadn’t been for the sudden announcement of your leaving, then he would have tried much harder to convince you and One to let him arrive with you. Of course, deep down you knew that despite Four’s protective nature, he understood why he was unable to arrive with you, or with the others. But it didn’t stop him from disliking the plan any less.

The driver watches as you put your phone away and takes this time to engage you in the typical taxi, passenger chit chat. “Parlez-vous français?” He enquires, and it takes you a moment to comprehend what he had asked. You had a slight knowledge of the French language, but it was very, very basic.

“No sorry, I don’t speak French.” You offer with a half smile, shrugging lightly as you turn your attention to the scenery blurring past you.

“Ah, a tourist then. Here for a vacation, are you? He continues, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel as he changes lanes in what would be considered a highly illegal maneuver literally anywhere else in the World.

Deciding that if you looked out the window any longer you may become motion sick, you turn your focus to staring directly at the back of the drivers head. “Mhm, I’ve always wanted to visit, go snorkelling, maybe go for a ride on one of those glass bottom boats? Who knows!” You ramble on, though nothing you say is quite a lie. In truth, you had always wanted to visit Noumea, and were supposed to when you were thirteen. You were supposed to go on a cruise to the South Pacific Islands as a birthday present, however that never quite happened. You suppose in the long run, it’s a good thing you never came here as a child, if you had, then this mission may not be going ahead. Or at least not with you at the helm.

“My cousin owns a glass bottom boat, he runs tours every day. Here, take this card, it has his details.” He pulls a crinkled business card out of his shirt pocket, and passes it back to you. You take it graciously, taking a moment to read over it before stowing it away in your bag.

“Thank you.”

As you drive through the city, the driver points out the occasional tourist attraction, to which you nod and play along with the façade you had created. Most things he says go in one ear then out the other, but there is one which catches your attention. “Over the is the hospital. Might be good to know where that is just in case.” He offers with a grin, gesturing to the large building on your left.

Your head whips around to face that direction in an instant, eyes growing wide as you drink in the sight. “That’s the hospital…” You whisper, mouth going dry as you watch the building disappear into the distance behind you.

The rest of the drive is kept in relative silence, mostly on your part. Having finally seen your destination for this mission, it all suddenly felt so real. Inside that building, which should be used for good, were two of the most vile and wicked people you know to exist. They had nearly two weeks left before they met they’re match however, and that thought alone set a chilling grin on your lips.

*****

Once you arrived at the apartment you were faced with a serious problem, a lack of keys to the front door. Surely One should’ve thought of this, he owned the fucking place! “Well that’s just great. Now what?” You hiss to yourself, glaring daggers at the wooden door that currently separated you from your new, temporary home and work space.

Reaching behind, you fish around in your bag in search of your phone. Muttering swears beneath your breath, until finally your fingers clasp onto the cool, smooth device. Scowling at the screen as you scroll through the limited contacts, you press call against One. Standing with your back leaning against the front door, one arm folded across your chest, and your left foot tapping the ground impatiently.

“Don’t tell me you’re already in trouble.” One grumbles after the sixth ring. His words causing your sour mood to only worsen.

“No I am not.” You hiss, lowering your voice to a whisper as you hear voices out on the street.

“What do you need Eight?”

“I want to know how I’m supposed to get into the bloody apartment! There’s not fucking keys!”

There’s a pause on the line for a minute or two, and for the first time ever, you realise that you’ve rendered One, the fearless leader, utterly speechless. “The keys are on the table.” His voice is mumbled, and you barely catch what he says.

“I’m sorry, what was that now?”

One groans, and you can almost picture his frustrated face, perhaps he would even be pinching the bridge of his nose… “I said, the keys are on the table, inside the apartment.”

He sounds disappointed in himself, and rightly so. “Well, that’s helpful isn’t it?”

“Don’t get sassy with me missy.”

“Why not? This is your house isn’t it? Shouldn’t you have a set of keys with you?”

“It’s one of my houses..”

“That doesn’t make this any better.”

“Did you bring your lock pick?”

“Of course I did. The question is, which bag is it in….” You mumble, gazing around at the bags you had discarded by the door.

“I think you know what to do. Good luck kid.” There’s a grin to One’s voice now, and you have half a mind to tell him off for his stupidity, however before you get the chance, the line goes dead.

With a deep sigh, you resign yourself to do the only thing you can, break in. Well technically it wasn’t breaking in, not when you were supposed to be living here, though you imagine that logic may not stand up in court if someone were to catch you in the act.

Withing ten minutes, all of your bags lay open on the ground, items of clothing strewn about the place, as you had frantically searched the brown leather pouch which housed your lockpick tools. Upon finding it, you groan at the mess you had made, stuffing everything back in the bags haphazardly, you would deal with the unorganised mess later.

Gazing around, you double then triple check that there is no one around to see you. The voices on the street had long since faded away, leaving only the sounds of birds chirping, and the distant crash of waves. Confident you’re alone, you bow over the door handle, and begin picking the lock. It occurs to you that perhaps this was One’s plan all along. After all, he was the one to provide you with said lock picking kit. You brush that thought off, and return to the task at hand, fiddling with the handle for roughly fifteen minutes until finally you hear a click. “Eureka!” You declare quietly yet triumphantly. The door swings open, and dusty air breezes out past you, causing you to cough and sneeze. Blimey, this place must’ve been closed up for months!

Inside the apartment, you don’t take too long looking around, you’ll have time for that later. You take note of where the master bedroom is, and claim that as yours by dumping your bags atop the bed, and seek out the bathroom. With everything in order as far as you could see, you take your laptop and bring it out into the main living area where what you can only assume is your area has been set up. There are three monitors set up on a large oak desk, which looked wildly out of place in the otherwise, holiday home themed house. The largest sitting in the middle of the desk, with two smaller screens on either side. It’s not a perfect set up, but it will work for what you need, and that’s all that really matters, especially considering most of your work would be done from inside the hospital.

Settling down at the makeshift study desk, you take a final moment to glance around the apartment, spotting a set of what you presume is house keys sitting on the dining table. “Well, at least One was right about where you were.” You mutter quietly, glaring at the object in question.

*****

Infiltrating the hospital database took far longer than you had initially expected. Over the past few weeks, you had made practice runs of worming your way into other systems for different hospitals around the world, however at no point had you thought to test your access to the hospital you actually needed entrance to. “It can’t be any different to any of the others.” You surmise, squinting at the screen before you, elbows propped up on the desk, and chin resting on your interlocked fingers. Truth be told it wasn’t that much different, not in the scheme of things, however someone, and goodness knows who, had made the entire system nearly impenetrable! Key word being nearly. However, if there was one thing you had learned after years of sneaking your way into systems you shouldn’t, it was that no matter how tricky a program may first appear, there is always a way in! And this system was no different.

One pizza delivery and three energy drinks later, the start of a migraine -which was either caused by your frustration, or the copious amounts of caffeine- and you were finally in! The hospital was, in every sense of the word, yours. The possibilities, oh the possibilities! Your first task only took a few moments, scanning through encrypted lists until you came across the one which housed the contact details for all members of staff. The list consisted of the staff members name, followed by their position of work, contact number and email, and finally a next of kin. Truly, this list looked to have been composed specifically for you and your needs. Copying the details you required for a one Mister Frank Sea, and pasting them momentarily into a word document, you move onto your second task. Page upon page you read through, jumping between links and praying that perhaps this time you had found the correct page, you finally make it to the hospital security system. You blame your caffeinated jittery hands for how long it took you to find. Once in the system, you begin changing over a few simple details, nothing too extreme that could potentially be cause for concern if anyone were to see, but the changes you made were imperative to the mission. The contact name for the security recruitment agency remained the same, however you now deleted out the previous phone number, adding in One’s phone number as planned. Finally came task three, which you had been dreading since you woke up this morning. The guilt of what you were about to do had been gnawing at you all week. You weren’t a bad person, not really; you kept telling yourself, hoping that perhaps if you said so enough, it would be true. You feared sending this email would ruin Frank, that it would destroy him… ‘It’s just business.’ You can hear One telling you, his exact words after you had both come up with this plan. “It’s just business, I’m just doing my job. It’s for the greater good.” You whisper, your voice catching in your throat. You don’t give yourself another moment to dwell on things, and instead quickly write up your email on the address you had created specifically for the mission. The email informs Frank of his urgent presence being required in Scotland to discuss the legalities of his and his wife’s separation, and custody of his children. Holding your breath, you hit send, watching impatiently until the message had left your outbox. By the time Frank would arrive in Scotland, the company you had pretended to work for would be closed for three weeks due to renovations. He would have no way of contacting them to find out why his presence was required, and of course try as he might, there was no chance he would receive a reply to any of his emails to you. So for three weeks, he would stick it out at home, arguing with his wife, all while you take over for him at the hospital.

*****

Soft pinks and oranges had begun to coat the evening sky as dusk rolled in, and for the first time in years, Four found himself staring up at the sky, envisioning a future. A future which didn’t involve hurting or killing people, no matter how evil and vile they were. Just a plain, normal future. He didn’t quite know what had brought these thoughts upon him, they were the types of thoughts he had managed to banish into the deepest parts of his mind. In fact, the last time he had thought about a normal life, was shortly after Six had died. They all mourned him of course, but the reality of losing Six had weighed down on him greatly. And for close to three months, Four had seriously considered abandoning the Ghosts, and starting a fresh life far away from them. At the time though, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t leave the team. And besides, he had no where to go, and no one to run to. But now? Now was different, he had you. The two of you could run away together, leave the Ghosts, leave this life behind. Start over wherever in the world you wanted you, far away from One and his plans of revenge against those who had wronged the world….

He shook his head, the images of normalcy which had formed in his minds eye, fading away, just as the sun was. He couldn’t leave, not when this was the closest thing to a family he had had since he was a toddler. If there was one thing he knew for sure, you don’t abandon your family. His own parents had taught him that the hard way.

Carefully, Four pushed himself up from where he had been relaxing atop his trailer. His back was stiff after having been laid down for what felt like too long, but he paid it little mind. As he leapt down to the ground, a loud yell echoed throughout base.

“Will somebody answer my phone? I can’t get to it right now!” It was One, yelling at the top of his lungs from god knows where, his voice sounded muffled though.

Next came Five’s screamed reply. “Where are you then?”

“Garage!” One yelled back.

“Coming, I’ll get it!” Four watched as Five went darting across base, kicking up red dust in her haste.

For interests sake, Four made his meandering way towards the garage, just to see what was so urgent about this phone call, and why One couldn’t get it. He strolled in, hands in his pants pockets, and hood drawn over his head. His eyes darting between Five, who was reading from a script scribbled in an old notebook while on the phone, to One who’s feet were sticking out from beneath a silver Audi R8.

“Good afternoon, leader security how may I help you?” Five recited in what was either the worst or perhaps best Dolly Parton imitation Four had ever heard. “Oh sure, you need a new head of security? How soon do you need them to start?” There was a pause, and Four stepped further over to the Audi, titling his head to the left as he lifted a quizzical brow. “Asap? Well where are y’all located?... Oh I see, let me transfer you.”

“You alright down there mate?” Four smirked giving One’s foot a gentle kick.

“Yep, never better. Why do you ask?”

“Well it’s just, you’re only like, ten steps away from your phone… Not sure why you couldn’t get it yourself is all.” He shrugged, folding his arms across his chest, and rocking back on his heels.

One pauses for a few moments, selecting his next words carefully. “I just didn’t want to stop what I was doing midway through.”

Four crouched slightly, peering at the floor creeper One was reclined on beneath the car. One of the wheels had popped off entirely, while another on the same side was horrendously bent out of shape. “You’re stuck aren’t ya?”

“Yes I’m stuck.”

*****

Two hours later, your mobile rings with One’s caller ID flashing, grinning you answer with a bright smile. “Good afternoon, Leader security recruitment how may I help you?” You recite in an overly practiced voice, not that the person on the other end of the line could tell, but it sure made you feel better, knowing you weren’t about to trip over your own words. One had done just as was planned, and upon playing receptionist for the security company, had transferred the call directly to you, and now it was time to get yourself employed.

The female voice on the other end of the line begins speaking frantically, telling you about how the current head of security for her hospital had just left unexpectedly, and that they needed someone to fill in for him until they could find out when he would return.

“Ma’am, it will all be fine, I assure you. Now can you please tell me your company code?” You smile, while typing aimlessly into a word document. So long as the woman on the phone could hear you typing, you would not raise any suspicion, even if all you were typing was smiley faces. “I see, and this is a hospital based in Noumea New Caledonia, is that correct? – Mhm no problems at all. How soon do you require someone to commence?” You type out the few details she tells you which are actually important to you, before returning to the faces. “I will have to see who I have in area who may be able to assist you. One of contractors recently moved to the area I believe for a change of scenery. May I put you on hold and see if I am able to call her?” The moment the woman agrees, you place the call on hold and laugh to yourself. The temptation to have an actual conversation with yourself just to keep the charade up is there, however considering as it had only been a few hours of you living alone, you felt you should at least attempt to keep the bouts of insanity to a minimum for now. “Hello, are you still there?” You ask a few minutes later. “Anastasia Breaker will be available as of tomorrow morning, if you could please forward all details regarding her employment to the following email address, then she will see you in the morning.” The woman is nearly in tears as she thanks you, promising she would send the information within minutes. “Of course, no problems. Have a lovely evening, and once again, thank you for choosing leader security.”

As the phone goes silent, you stand up and stretch, raising your arms above your head. You’d done it, you were in. Or rather Anastasia was in, but no matter who’s name was on the contract, you were the one who would be doing all the work.

*****

For the next few hours, you read through the multiple emails which arrived for Anastasia Breaker, advising you of where to go tomorrow morning, and who you would be meeting upon your arrival. It was nothing too unusual, or anything unexpected, the only downside was that you had been requested to arrive at 6 am. To some that may be ok, normal even. But to you, a perpetual night owl, it felt like torture. After laying out your clothing for the following morning, to allow for a slight sleep in, you lay down in the double bed you had claimed as yours. You knew it would likely end up being shared once the others arrived, but for now, it was all yours. The lights had all been turned out, leaving you in near complete darkness. The only light was that of the shining silver moon, peering down on you through a forest of thick trees. Try as you might however, sleep seemed to escape you. Perhaps it was nerves of tomorrow and your new ‘job’, or maybe it was just the fact you were sleeping in a new bed. No matter the cause, after tossing and turning for nearly an hour, you eventually gave up. Sitting upright, you grab the burner phone off the nightstand, having left it beside you with an alarm on for the morning.

You stare down at the bare screen, so used to your own which was filled with various apps. On this phone however, there was nothing of interest to do. Your thumb hovered over your contacts, and you bite your lower lip in thought. You knew One would be furious if he found out you were using the phone as anything but emergency contacts and an alarm, but at the same time, you found yourself having a rather difficult time caring about him and what he thought while he was so far away. Finally, you press down on the contact, and listen to the phone ring on loudspeaker.

“Hello?” Four’s distinct voice carries through, and you feel a wave of comfort roll over you. His voice alone felt like home, and it almost frightened you to think that, especially considering how brief your relationship had been so far.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Oh, Oh! I’m sorry love I had no idea. This number isn’t programmed into my phone, I genuinely thought it was a telemarketer or something!” He was rambling, and you could almost see the pale crimson blush which would be creeping up his neck and cheeks, as he too realised, he was rambling.

“It’s totally fine, I’m not really supposed to be calling you. But I needed to hear a friendly voice.”

“Who says you’re not supposed to call?”

“One.”

“Fuck him and his stupid rules!”

“I would really rather not.”

“You know what I mean, you idiot.” You can practically hear his eye roll through his words, and you can’t help but smile at that. At how well you know his mannerisms these days. “How has day one gone? Everything going according to plan?”

You nod, before recalling that he can’t see you. “Yep, things seem to be rather smooth sailing for now. I’ll be starting at the hospital tomorrow morning, and from there I can get everything else set in motion.”

“That’s brilliant, at this rate it’ll all be over before we know it!”

You pause for a moment, resting the phone on the pillow beside your head. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“What’s wrong hm? You don’t sound convinced?”

Rolling over, you lay flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling. “I suppose I’m just trying to come to terms with how quickly this is all happening, you know? Like, I feel it was just yesterday One announced who the targets were, and now suddenly I’m here? It’s all happening so fast.”

“I know exactly what you mean, I can’t quite wrap my head around it all either. But look at how far we’ve come. How far you’ve come! Remember that day when the targets were announced-“

“You mean the day I ran out of the briefing and nearly killed us both?” You interrupt, smirking slightly at the memory.

“Yes, that day. But look at you now, look at where you are! You’ve changed so much in such a short period of time. You’re far more prepared than any of us here at base are, and for us, this is either our second or third mission! For you, this is your first, and you’re already doing better than any of us could’ve imagined.”

“Do you mean that, or are you just saying it so I stop panicking?”

“I’ve never meant anything more in my life Eight, I promise.”

“Thank you, I – thank you.” You whisper, rolling to your side and looking down at the phone. You sigh deeply, closing your eyes tight before allowing them to slowly open. “Tell me something that no one else in the Ghosts knows about you.”

You hear him chuckle, a deep rumble which you wish you could wrap your arms around him and feel as it flowed through you. “Do you want something to laugh at?”

“Yes, I don’t want to cry tonight. Make it funny.”

Four hums to himself, and you curl around your pillow, cradling the phone near your chest. “Right, here’s one. Bet you didn’t know I have a criminal record as an arsonist!”

He sounds proud of himself, and for the life of you, you can’t fathom why. “You what now?”

“It was my first charge, long before the cops ever figured out I was stealing, which I had been doing for years before this occurred.”

“How long have you been a thief, Four?”

“A long while… But that’s a story for another time. This is about fire lord me!”

You groan, rolling your eyes at the nickname he had given himself, while leaving a mental note to ask him about his past one day, when you weren’t in the middle of a mission.

“I was maybe 15 or 16, and was with this girl who I thought was made of pure heaven. I practically worshiped the ground she walked on, and daydreamed about her all day every day. To her though, I was a kid who was a year or two younger than her, and she just loved the attention, not matter who it came from. I knew she only spent a month with each of her boyfriends, but naive young me thought that maybe I could convince her to be with me forever. Spoiler alert, that didn’t work out. One night I decided to surprise her when she came home from dance lessons, her parents were out of town for the week, and I figured I would make a romantic evening for the two of us, and would allow her to be my first.” He pauses for a moment, as if wanting to see if you wanted to hear where this was going.

“It’s fine Four, just keep telling the story.” You giggle, shaking your head softly at where this was all going.

“Well I got super fancy, ordered takeout because heaven knows I cannot cook, even managed to nick a bottle of champagne from the local liquor store. It was cheap nasty stuff now that I think about it, but at the time, I felt very grown up. I lit candles all over her townhouse, there were some in the kitchen, bathroom, bedrooms and even the kitchen. I think I went through an entire matchbook that night. So finally she gets home, and I’m nervous as hell. Legs jittery, forehead sweaty, and look the exact opposite of sexy like I had hoped for. She’s all smiles, and even thanks me for setting up a lovely evening. After we eat, she steps outside to have a smoke, and I clean up in the kitchen. The next thing I know, she’s shouting from the front door, and then the smoke alarming is blaring throughout the house. I run outside, and find her staring up at the second floor at her bedroom window, where billows of dark smoke are seeping out. Turns out, she had a cat I didn’t know about, and the fucker knocked down one of the candles, it landed near her bedroom curtains, and the flames engulfed pretty much the entire room. Cops and firemen came, shockingly they didn’t believe me when I said it was the cat. And the fact that I had been in her home without her for so long didn’t help my argument either….”

“Oh my goodness, so you were actually innocent? The cat got you a record?” You laugh, pressing your palm to your forehead.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. That cat is the reason I don’t do romantic anymore.” He grumbled playfully.

“Aw, and why’s that? Cat got your tongue?!” You chortle, you were definitely borderline tired now, because to you, that was officially the funniest pun in the world.

“Oh dear, oh no…. Eight that was terrible, please never say anything like that again.”

“Aww, come on! It was funny!”

“No love, no it wasn’t.”

There’s no use in arguing the point, you knew you were funny and that was all that mattered. “Fine, I’ll stop with the cat puns especially seeing as you’re not feline it…”

‘You are very annoying, you know that right?”

“Of course, but it’s part of my appeal!”

“Whatever you say. But I do think You need some sleep, because you sound hella tired right now.”

As if on que, a yawn slips from your lips, giving away just how tired you now were. “You may be right.”

“Good night love, good luck tomorrow. I know you’ll be amazing.”

You smile at his words, tracing your finger along the edge of the phone. “Thank you. I’ll see you soon, ok?”

“Ok.”

You end the call, and place the phone back on the nightstand. As you allowed your eyes to drift shut, you can’t help but feel just that little bit more confident that things were going just as they were planned.

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Chapter Eleven here!

#four x reader #billy/four #four x you #four x eight #ben hardy/ billy x reader #ben hardy/ four #ben hardy/ billy #6 underground fanfiction #ben hardy fanfic #6 underground

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writes-eat-sleep-repeat · 4 years

Text

TRICKS FOR TREATS

Paring: spooky x black!reader

Requested: No

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings : 18+, smut, sex, oral sex (girl receiving)

Summary: How Oscar spent his Halloween before it was interrupted by Cesar.

“Oh come on it’s Halloween” you said.

“No” your boyfriend protested

“Pleaseeeeee” you begged

“It’s not safe, you know that” Oscar answered.

“We aren’t trick or treating pendejo, were going to a party” you continued

“Please, please, please, please” you badgered

“Fine (Y/N), you can be so annoying” he said with a sigh Drawing a deep puff from his joint finishing it and getting up. You knew sooner or later whatever he was smoking would mellow his out enough to appease you.

You had been trying to convince your boyfriend for a week to come to the Halloween party your best friend was throwing at her place. It was your first Halloween since Oscar was home and you wanted to spend it with him. Sitting on the porch of the santos hangout spot, otherwise known as oscars place you stared out onto the lawn where Oscar had moved to sit on a crate and started doing bicep curls. You started thinking about what it was like before he had gotten locked up. How he and your friends would all pile up into your mothers house on Halloween to eat candy, pizza and watch scary movies knowing freeridge would be far to dangerous to tread the streets on foot seeking the booty of candy. A sadness came over you knowing all these years had passed and Cesar and his friends had to take up the same tradition as a way of avoiding their own deaths on what should be a fun holiday.

“BEEEEPPP” you were snapped out of your thoughts by a car horn. Your grey eyes meeting oscars intense brown ones you had not realizing at some point Oscar had stopped working out and had began staring at you quizzically. “BEEP, BEEP, BEEP” the person in the car honked three more times causing you to look in the direction the noise had come from. It was Mia. Your best friend. You and oscars oldest friend as well, dating all the way back to kindergarten. “Hey” she yelled out the passenger side window. “You, coming or not” she continued. Thats the plan you thought in your head. You held up one finger towards her signaling for her to give you a minute. As you ran inside to grab your purse and began to walk towards the car you stopped when you heard Oscar behind you clearing his throat. You turned to give him a peck on the lips to let him know you weren’t upset about his ‘annoying’ comment he made earlier. You were so used to not having him around it had become weird for you to remember to say goodbye or even greet him at times.

While you were pulling back up to head to the car his long fingers wove their way to the back of your neck gripping your the tight coils at the base of your neck that had become loose from bun piled on top of your head, as he pulled you back down into a more passionate kiss. First with just your lips slightly open then coming deeper as your tongues began weaving around each other, in an intricate pattern, slowing and intoxicating it wasn’t long before your knees felt slightly weakened and Mia began blowing her horn again and you heard the other santos cheering the leader on making ooh and aww sounds. Finding enough strength you pulled back. With one final peck on his lips “see you later?” You asked. Oscar answering with a slight nod, picking the weight back up to return to his workout. “Did you guys need a room? Are you good on oxygen?” Mia teased as you settled into the passenger side of the car. “Shut up” was all you could manage to let out while lightly shoving her shoulder closes to you.

To be honest your brain couldn’t process anything other than the kiss you had just been blessed with. After four years of Oscar being locked up you had all but turned your sex drive off as a coping mechanism, you two were best friends who had started dating and you know he didn't ask you to wait for him for eight years, he would never ask you to put your life on hold like that. And you suspected when he stopped responding to the letters you would send three years in he was hoping you would forget about him and move on. It’s not like you didn’t try. But, it proved to be more difficult than you anticipated. No one wanted to mess with spooky’s girl, whether he was around or locked up. No one wanted those problems. Becoming content with everyone treating you like a pariah until you graduated and finally left freeridge and started life anew. You definitely did not expect Oscar to get out early or to still even want to be with you, but being around Oscar as best friends had been second nature for so long, it was the one thing you felt secure in, you both just fell back into your old routines. Some new routines had been implemented as well. In the bedroom, the shower, the kitchen- “(Y/N), hello” Mia bought you out of your thoughts. “Red or Black” she was asking holding up a pair of bunny ears. “I’m wearing red, you know that’s oscars favorite color” you responded. “And Oscar is okay with you being a playboy bunny?” She asked, one curious eyebrow raised. “Well.. umm, we didn’t necessarily discuss costume selections” your own eyebrows furrowing. He wouldn’t have an issue with your costume you thought to yourself. Why would he, besides you were going to the party together. Why would he. “okay, black it is”she finalized. You felt your phone vibrate and looked down to see a message from Oscar reading:

“Bunny ears?”

Confused you lifted you had and began looking around only to see him walking towards you with his right hand man sad eyes following closely behind. He wore a grey t-shirt and black shorts, the bottom reaching just the top of his long socks. Black was your favorite color on him. But you couldn’t deny grey did just as much justice on his six foot, one inch built frame. “Why?” You asked. “Sad eyes, wanted a mask for the party” he said in a matter of fact tone. “How?” You continued. “He texted Mia, I wasn’t following you...Yet” he mocked. You responded with an eye roll. Knowing he disliked them and found them somewhat disrespectful. To your eye roll you notice him squint his eyes deviously. “We are gonna go look at masks” Mia said while simultaneously grabbing sad eyes hand pulling him with her. You had all but forgot Mia and him had a little fling a while ago along the lines of friends-with- benefits. To bad they never took it seriously they were so cute together.

You felt a sting on your right butt check causing you to yelp drawing you out of your thoughts to see the perpetrator. It was none other than your boyfriend looking of into space hands clasped behind his back as if he did nothing. “Why? You questioned. Rubbing the sore spot. Collapsing the space between you he bent down to look directly in you eye before whispering in your ear “ I don’t like when you roll your eyes at me, you do something I don’t like, i do something you don’t like” he vowed. Moving back to look in your eyes “Who says I didn’t like it?” You challenged. Cause it his own eyes to open just slightly before he regained control. He then looked past your shoulder and with a Smirk grabbed you hand dragging you to a small dark room within the store. Above the doorway there was a neon green flashing light that read ADULT. Once in the room he began browsing, there was everything Adult related here porn, Toys, Whips, Cuffs, etc.

Oscar looked at a few movie covers, while you looked at him as you were still standing in the doorway, walking in a circle scanning the room he stopped in front of the toys section and motioned with a nod for you to join him. You walked over, looking from the toys to him and asked “why are we here”. “ I want to buy you something” he said, his smirk returning full force. “Well,... I don’t need a vibrator, I have like five at home” you confirmed. You couldn’t see clearly in the dark room, so it was hard to gauge his reaction. “Five??” He questioned, sounding more shocked than anything else. “Oh, please. You were locked up for four years, you wanna lie and say you didn’t masturbate not even once?” You asked defending yourself. With a small shrug of his shoulders, he continued to browse the toy selection. “What do you masturbate to?” He asked after about five minutes of silence. “Huh” you said. “You heard my question” he said. “What?” You answered with raised eyebrows. “I wanna know who you think about” he stated. “Would you look at that, there is no way that can fit inside anyone” you tried changing the subject while eyeing a 13 inch toy. “Your deflecting” he continued. “I’m sorry what was the question.” You asked. “WHO. DO. YOU.THINK. ABOUT. WHEN. YOU. USE. YOUR. TOYS.” he repeated taking a step closer to you with each word, his voice becoming more boisterous with each one. At this point he had you pinned between an bookshelf erotic fiction next to the shelves of toys and his body. “Oh, that was the question” you said.

Him sighing in response. “Ummm, why does it matter?” You asked.”that wasn’t an answer” he said his gaze becoming more intense with every minute that passed. “Well, fine then, you go first” you challenged. “You” he said.”What?”you asked quizzically. “I think about you” he continued. “Every time?” You still questioned. “Yes”he answered “Oscar we sleep together, why would you masturbate to me” you answered baffled by his answer. His current eye roll, coupled with a long sigh indicated he wasn’t going to answer your question and he was becoming agitated with your delayed answer. “Mines is you too”you answered half confident. With dead eyes he responded “your lying”.“Fine, its weird though and you have to promise not to laugh”you gave in. “Most of the time IT IS you, but when it not it’s.... Eric Northman” you whispered the last part. “Who?” He asked. “He’s a vampire from a show” you responded exhausted with the conversation. He began laughing which caused a heat to rise to the cheeks of your dark skin. “Great, now can i be done embarrassing myself” you tried to move away but he only came in closer.

This time the intensity of his stare stirred up a heat in you that only he can. The room being so small and dark making everything seem so much more intimate. You were sure he would kiss your lips but he turned your head slightly pressing tiny pecks from right below your ear to your neck. “How are we gonna rectify this problem” he said with his kisses now being dragged across your collar bone. He knew that was your spot and you two hadn’t been together for a couple days due to him being on runs for the past few nights. You were both and edge and in need of immediate release. “Don’t leave me by myself so much” you answered breathlessly. “No, No I don’t mind you touching yourself, i just cant have you thinking of anyone else, because this- he dragged his hand up your thigh resting rubbing his thumb back and forth- is mines” he finished. You were basically becoming undone before him and he knew he had you right where he wanted you. “Right?” He continued. “Yes” you dozily responded.

He was still trailing light kisses along the base of your neck you so you barely noticed him reaching for something behind you on the shelf. “This is how you're gonna make it up to me” he smirked. Your eyes flutter open to see him holding a small rectangle box reading; vibrating Panties. Remote controlled. “What’s that for? You asked. “Your redemption” he answered giving you his fifty kilowatt smile, dimple included. “Okay for...after the party?”. It still wasn’t making much sense to you. “Nope, for the party” he responded triumphant. “Ummm, yeah no. I’m not and I repeat NOT wearing that to the party tonight” you said. “You’d think someone who fantasizes about the undead would be more adventurous”he taunted you along. “Adventurous equals risk which equals potential reward, what do i get out of this exactly?” You challenged him. you could see him weighing your words in his mind. “Hmmm, your right.... one week.” He said “one week?”you raised a curious eyebrow. “One week with me, uninterrupted. No Gang anything, no cuchillious, just you me and whenever you want to go ” he wagered. Since Oscar has been home you have never had him to yourself for an extended period of time, he’s always either doing something for cuchilloos or meeting with her. Damn if you think about it she sees him more than you do. “What’s the catch? You wearily ask. “Nothing, you just wear this tonight. -ummm, OK ( you began to answer )- but, you cant cum, no matter what” he finished. His stance as always, cool under pressure; but in his eyes he had a look that could rival the devil. And there they are, the strings magically attaching themselves, you thought. “So, the only challenge on my part is not to orgasm?” You nervously laughed.

Both you and Oscar knew how sensitive you were in that particular area. “Your probably right, it maybe to much for you, we both know how sensitive you are down there” his words confirming your earlier thoughts. He also knew you were competitive and he had you right where he wanted you. “What’s the cut off time”you asked. “Let’s call it midnight” he said. Finalizing the deal with a handshake you two made your way out of the room and to the cashier to make his purchase. “Where have you guys been, we’ve been looking for you; oh did Oscar Find a mask” Mia exclaimed right as Oscar took the bag from the boy behind the counter. “We were looking around and yeah he found something” you answered. You four hurried out the store to say your goodbyes Oscar handing you the bag with your gift as the two santos headed on their own way as you and Mia went on your way, with her first dropping you at your apartment to get ready for the party.

Sanding in front of the wall length mirror in your room. You stood staring at yourself wide, eyed and excited for what the night had to offer. You had been curious about the testing the bullet that came with the package to see how strong it maybe. To potentially try to prepare yourself for what lies ahead. When you went to look in the box you realized the remote was missing. Slightly to your disappointment, however the overall feeling you had was relief. You instantly text Oscar to let him know his plan wasn’t going to work for tonight.

‘Hey’

‘Sup, mama’

‘The remote was missing from the box. So no playtime tonight :(‘

‘Oh no’ he responded

‘Yeah maybe next time, too bad i as really looking forward to that week. Which I should still get because the remote missing isn’t my fault’ you smiled triumphantly at your phone

‘It’s cool, i just found it in my back pocket. Couldn’t have you testing it out without me ;). You want that week bad huh? Earn it’

His last text wiping the smile clean off your face.

‘See you in a bit mama’s” he finished.

Looking at your phone he was right it was already almost 7 and the party started at 8. But since you were helping Mia host she told you to get there around 7:40 meaning Oscar would be here in a half and hour. Putting on your ‘gift’ first you couldn’t help but notice the precise nature of the bullet that nestle right into your intimate folds the head which is usually the most powerful siting right on your bundle of nerves. You finished putting on your costume, fishnets, bustier, and tiny shorts covering just enough of your plump backside to not make Oscar too angry but still short enough to make him sweat a little. As your were putting on your three inch heels trying to stay as close to playboy tradition as possible you heard oscars impala beeping for you outside. You grabbed your wristlet, the bag of candy you had bought and headed out to his car. At the halfway point between your house and the car you an instant powerful vibration, more than any of the toys you owned overtake you causing you to crumple forward. Your neighbor who was walking her dog noticed and began calling your name in response. Oscar turned off the remote just as quickly as he turned it on. Allowing you to catch your breath enough to answer her.

“Misses Harper, hi I’m fine, just.... cramps” you lied. she nodded an okay and turned back to her task at hand while you climbed into the passenger side of the red car. “You okay mamas, Oscar asked with a smile. “ You asshole. You couldn’t wait for me to at least get in the car” you scolded. “This car?” He asked. “No the other car-” your snarky response being cut off buy him turning on the remote again. Causing you to lean back trying to control the lower half of your body. Oscar knew what game he was playing only allowing the lowest vibration as to not end the competition too early. He coupled the vibration with rubbing his long skilled fingers up and down your fishnet covered thigh making sure to hit the inside portion of your thigh with every sweep. By the time you got to the party you were dry heaving and Oscar was just getting warmed up. He turned off the remote giving time to fully compose yourself before heading into the house. Himself finding his few friends from the gang to hang with.

Once the party was in full swing you had been dancing, socializing ,drinking along with everyone else and all but forgotten you even had the vibrating panties on until you were in the middle of a taking a shot with Mia and felt that powerful vibration come right out nowhere causing you to almost choke on the liquor and drop the plastic shot cup. Looking around you spotted Oscar of the other side of the room with sad eyes and two other santos members. He wasn’t even looking in your direction, but must have felt you staring at him because he turned to you and offered a simple wink before Turing back to his conversation. You didn't want to walk over there to him and you didn't trust yourself to go into any room alone because you were sure you would initiate your own release.

You decided to head to the middle of the dance floor and deflect some of your energy to that. Mia and a couple other friends going you. With every song you danced to Oscar would increase the level of the vibration and by the fifth song you were about to let go right there in the middle if everyone. You knew he was smirking but you would not give him the satisfaction of looking in his direction, not even once. You make your way to the back deck where there was less people hoping the cool air from the night would offer your head some clarity. You closed you eyes leaning against the rail for support releasing silent whimpers. You heard people shuffling off of the deck. Then you felt level six.

This might be it. At this point you were seeing white dots behind you eyelids. Then you felt someone press up against you, well something. Already knowing who it was before you even opened your eyes. He started planting soft kisses along the side of your neck along with smoothing one hand across the length of of your stomach and breast while the other up and down the inside o your thigh. In a world of bliss you let your head fall back allowing Oscar further access to your neck, chest heaving heavily, while you soaked in the feeling ready to give in when the vibrations stopped. You turned around glaring at Oscar who had that smile on. “Why?” You asked glaring at him. “Nights not over babe” he laughed. As you rolled your eyes in frustration. His smile was replaced with a hard line, him squinting his eyes at you and the vibration picked up where it left of causing you to collapse forward holding onto him for support. Bringing you right back to where you left, he bean to kiss you. Passionately raw and chaotic on your end. Controlled on his end as he gripped your neck with one hand from behind guiding you, he raised the level one more time, and you were sure this would be it. And just as you were there he turned it off. Leaving an absent of bliss and in its wake trailing disappointment and need.

How is this not affecting him,“Stop”you demanded. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”he questioned. “No” you said under your breath. “You lying to me again” he raised his eyebrows. “Oscar” you began defending yourself, but was once again cut off by him Turning the bullet on again. He continued this vicious cycle for what felt like eternity but was only ten minutes, stopping only when Mia came walking over towards you guys. “Hey, you guys could use the bedroom you know” she teased. You being to spent from Oscar edging you could only offer a small smile to your friend, no verbal response. “Or are yo Already finished” she asked. No, you thought to yourself, your dick of a boyfriend wont let you finished. Hmmm Dick. You giggled. Oscar looked Down at you confused before Turning to your oldest friend “actually we were about to go” he confirmed. “Cool, cool, thanks for coming” she finalized eyeing you as you offered her a wave in return. You walked off the deck and through the party Oscar holding you around the waist carrying you to the door. Who knew just almost getting an orgasim could be so exhausting.

You two walked like this all the way to the end of the block where his car was parked. As You went to get in the passages side “Backseat” was all he said. Moving the seat to the front an sliding into the back you barely sat down before Oscar grabbed you up to straddle him. So i was affecting him you wore a smirk of your own. Even with the bullet in your folds you could feel he was packing wood. Probably just as much on the brink of exploding as you were. He turned the remote back onto level one, just enough to keep you excited. You were over this and he had to pay for what he did to you back there whether you win this thing or not. So you took the lead. This time kissing his neck staring from the base of he Santos cross he had on his neck. Tracing kisses all the way to him teardrop tattoo purposely avoiding his lips. You could feel him growing with every kiss you planted.

He turned the remote up; level two. You turned over, so your plum backside sat on his lap, your back to his chest, taking his hands you carefully guided them over your perky double D breast. Him, anxiously peeling away the fabric that restricted them, until they were free and he began kneading them with his hand paying particular attention you your nipples. While he did this you took your time grinding down onto him vocalizing your pleasure, just how he likes it, a mixture of moans and whimpers. Feeling him now fully hard stretching the front of the khaki shorts he wore. When he couldn’t take it anymore he flipped you back over to straddle him again, increasing the level of vibration “I know what your doing” he said. “Good” you responded and continued grinding down on him. He grabbed you with both hands on either side of your face into a fiery kiss, both of you trying to nibble each other’s lips, your tongues doing their own dance. You pulled back and saw it i his eyes. Lust, it must have been in yours as well because he switched gears forgetting the remote entirely he took your nipples into his mouth one by one causing you to through your head back against the front seat letting out a loud moan, the sound causing his dick to twitch in his pants.

You leaned back forward going in to kiss his neck some more. Him looking for his wallet undoubtedly to get a condom. When you heard his phone vibrate once, then again him slowing down his kisses to look at it. You figured it was something santos related and pushed the phone down to the seat out of his line of sight “not now” you mumbled into his neck. “It’s Cesar” he responded. “Why? Cesar is at the shut in” you replied. “No he’s at Brentwood.” He clarified. Leaning back with a loud sigh to express your frustration you asked “Why is he in Brentwood?”. “I don’t know, but something happened. We gotta go mama”he replied. “Is he shot?” You asked

“No” he said

“Is he in danger of dying?” You continued

“I don’t know” he responded

“So can it wait, because I don’t think i can”

He looked at you exhaustedly before lifting you off his lap to get into the drivers seat. “It will be fifteen minutes tops, don’t worry mama you’ll get your vitamin D” he laughed. You meanwhile scurrying to fix your top back and move up to the passenger side. “I might die from a deficiency”you pouted in his direction. “You cant die from a vitamin D deficiency” he said winking while smiling in your direction showing that damn dimple. You crossing your arm across your chest and your legs in response. “What exactly is you plan here” you asked, attitude on full blast as he approached Brentwood. “Handle the situation” was the response you got. You rolling your eyes towards the window. “ i know you rolled your eyes” he said pulling up to what you guess was the kids house.

Before jumping out the car. He turned the bullet back on and up to level four. Leaving you whimpering, squeezing your knee’s together trying to combat the feeling that was overcoming you. You felt the knot in your stomach as you began grinding down on the bullet, eyes closed and just as you were there the vibrations stoped. Opening your eyes you saw the shadow of Oscar leaning against the car waiting for what you guess was Cesar and his friends as they walked out of a house bags full of candy. You got out of the passenger seat glaring at Oscar as you let Cesar, Ruby and Olivia into the back seat, the other two friends opting to take a Lyft. Oscar said nothing as he got in the drivers seat and blasted his music, no doubt to hide the sound of the vibrating bullet which he had turned on again. The ride home was quick but torturous . As you let off two of the three teenagers at ruby’s house. Bringing Cesar to the his own home. As you begin to walk towards the house behind Cesar, it for once being free of roaming santos. “Nights not over mamas” Oscar said watching you while he leaned against the top of the car. “Oscar I am physically done” you answered. “Get in” was all he said.

You dragged one Heavy foot after another until you climbed back into the red impala. He drove to a lookout point over the Brentwood . A somewhat woodsy area at the edge where you could see the whole city, the lights twinkling like a reflection of the night sky. I was a breathtaking sight and not many people knew about it you hadn’t even known about it until Oscar took you there a couple days after he had gotten out. Oscar put the car in park and went to lean on the hood. You following his actions. As you came around he turned towards you lifting you up and placing you gently on the hood. Kissing you again, picking up right where you left off. Tongues thrashing against each other, you grabbing oscars biceps, him expertly kneading your breast in his hands. Pushing you back as he hooks his hands into you shorts and the panties waiting for you to lift your body so he can pull them down. Once they are off he has full view of you and what you guess was a glistening mess.

He pushed you further up onto the hood of the car, bringing feet up until your calf and thigh touched. Holding you still with his strong arms he wasted no time kissing your thighs moving lower and lower alternating slowly and agonizingly, moving from one thigh to the other he would slightly blow on your sensitive bud causing you to squirm under his expert touch. Then he finally, began paying some attention to your most sensitive part he went into over drive, quickly flicking it to get momentum, then weaving his toughest between your wet folds you were in bliss. At some point between his long licks from the bottom to the top while he circled your bud with his tongue and him sucking while gliding his mouth up and down, that knot retuned causing your thighs to vibrate viciously. “I’m...I’m gonna... cu...cumming” was all you could say as all that pent up sexual tension erupted deep inside of you sending spikes of pleasure radiating through you entire body leaving a withering whimpering mess on the hood of the red impala as Oscar mercilessly continued sucking and flicking. You trying to push his head away to end the onslaught.

He moved up grabbing you by the neck with one hand to bring you towards into a kiss, you being further turned on by your own taste. He dragged you down the hood until your ass rested right on the edge wasting no time he drove the full length himself into you full force leaving you gasping for air as he filled you slamming his lower body to yours again and again. Nibbling on you neck, you relished in this, you waited so long all day. Hell all week you thought . His pace began to quicken and you knew he was almost about to cum. He expertly adjusted the angle you were leaning at so the head of his mandhood brushed right against your G-Spot with every stoke. Within the next couple of minutes your legs began to shake again and you felt that knot again. “Cum for me baby” he whispered into your ear and that was your undoing, his own not following far behind. You leaned back on the hood of the car completely drained as he leaned forward resting his head on your chest, both of you trying to catch your breath. After about ten minutes you got up putting your shorts back on minus the panties, heading into the car to go home.

Oscar following your actions looked at the dashboard “its 12:30” he say in a matter of fact way. “I guess that means I won” you smiled at him. Knowing he let you win. “Don’t worry I know a couple of things we could do for one uninterrupted week” you said resting you hand on his upper thigh. Shaking his head in amusement he just smiled at you dimple and all.

#spooky diaz #oscar spooky diaz #omb imagine #spooky x reader #spooky #on my block #julio macias #oscar

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