#ill spit in the ceo’s eye before i give up on this

[palms-upturned]

.

[another-corpo-rat]

and the wheel keeps turning

told myself i was gonna sit and get at least the beats for Victoria's storyline in place. instead i wrote what could ultimately be its epilogue \o/

Adam Smasher/OC Summary: With Yorinobu’s blood on her hands, there’s a significant target on Victoria’s back. Michiko has a solution.

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“Power suits you,” Victoria offers in greeting. It’s not a lie this time – there’s something to the set of Michiko’s shoulders, a tightness in her core that straightens her spine and pulls her chin up into the slightest tilt. The image is no doubt helped by Smasher’s lingering just by the doorway, an obsidian sentinel against the brighter golds and blues of their new CEO.

But it’s ruined, partially, by that serene and genuine smile that softens the woman’s features; warming her into a real person and not an untouchable empress.

“I find it quite ill fitting. It’s been tailored to my grandfather and uncle.” And then ruined entirely as she fidgets, picking at where chrome gives way to flesh on one of her hands. Victoria has to give her some credit; even that is a gracefully subtle motion. “I’m almost drowning in it.”

There’s an opportunity here to be sharp again. To drive a knife, metaphorically this time, into her confidence, or to gently pry and twist, coaxing her focus from the throne Victoria had a hand in setting her on.

The netrunner considers it while looking over the woman in front of her, pointedly ignoring the cyborg’s presence and how his attention hasn’t slipped from her since the moment he entered.

“Then cut off what you don’t need. Or, restyle it – you have the means to do whatever you chose now.”

“I do.” The fidgeting stops with a practiced intake. One that strikes her as too purposeful and has a tension roll down her own spine. “But…”

Victoria’s own calming breath is much subtler as white eyes focus on her. Searching for…something. “That’s talk for another time.”

“And perhaps with a better choice of conversational partner.”

“I’m certain Hanako would agree with you there.”

“Mhm, I’ll have to retract that statement then,” she says, baring her teeth in a smile, “simply to be contrarian.” Michiko’s lips twitch but she foregoes smiling to instead glance about the apartment.

There’s an odd pressure that rises with that, an active fight not to look around her own space with new eyes, noting oddities and imperfections that denote it as lived in. A fight she’s sure she’d lose if she didn’t distract herself with a sip of too-sweet wine.

She knows well what will be seen; the small shelf of physical books – all nonfiction aside from the thinnest, tucked away out of sight, a still smoking cigarette propped against an ashtray on the kitchen counter, the sheer dressing gown she had traded for one that wasn’t see-through the moment her sensors alerted her to a visitor tossed over the back of a chair.

 “How have you been?”

“Fine.” An honest answer, with its wide variety of meanings.

She’s fine, but she’s clawing at the walls. She’s fine, but she hasn’t slept properly since well before the coup. She’s fine, but she’s wary of everyone who steps through her door.

She’s just fine.

And Michiko has been at this for longer than she’s been alive, giving her a scolding look that’s all the worse for how gentle it is. Piercing enough to have her shift in her chair and look away, sorely regretting that she left the cigarette across the room. “All things considered. This…punishment has been rather cosy.”

“It’s not a punishment, Victoria. This is—”

“‘For my safety,’ I’m well aware.” She bares her teeth in tone, the venom spitting before she has a chance to swallow it down. Behind Michiko, Adam shifts ever so slightly and she bites to squeeze the poison from her tongue. Without it she sounds more defeated than intended, tired. Honest. “But it feels like one.”

Her fingers twitch again, but unlike so many times before Michiko doesn’t keep herself from reaching across. Her hand is warm as it takes Victoria’s, firm in its grounding squeeze and fond in how her thumb rubs a comforting circle.

“Then you’ll be happy on several accounts.” She says, soft and warm like honey in its sweet appeal. The sort she wouldn’t mind getting trapped by if she wasn’t caught in it already, reliant in a way she doesn’t have the energy to mind.

When she opens her eyes again, Michiko’s smile meets her, less wolfish than her usual company, crinkling the crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes. “Zaburo has finalized your security, and I’ve taken efforts to ensure they will not be disruptive to your routines.”

“An unnecessary effort. You have enough on your shoulders.”

“I do, and the sooner I have you working the less I’ll have to carry.” Ah. She can’t help but smile at that, and Michiko’s own grin takes on something conspiratorial.  

“Oh, am I getting your cut-offs?”

“I’m sure you’d fashion something suitable with them.” The CEO sits back, her hand slowly trailing away as she does. That searching to her eyes comes back again, the plotting smile still there. “There’s a party in a week’s time and your attendance is mandatory. I expect you to look your best.” Spoken like an order, with no room for argument. A reminder of the cloth this woman was cut from.

“In the meantime,” Michiko glances over her shoulder, smile slipping into a downright devious thing as she motions with two fingers, “I’ll leave you and your new bodyguard to get acquainted.”

She narrows her gaze as Adam steps forward, pressing down on the urge to crane her neck and see if there’s someone standing behind him, if this was all an elaborate joke. A quick jump to a camera with an angle assures her that no, there wasn’t.  Her vision settles back through her eyes, fixed squarely on him until Michiko stands, still smiling as she asks: “I trust you have no objections?”

No, she wants to admit. None. But heaven forbid she makes it easy for anyone, including herself.

“Isn’t he better suited to guarding you? It seems a waste—”

“No.” Spoken sharply to cut through her sentence, not in Michiko’s warm cadence but Adam’s mechanised bass. He’s staring down at her, the weight of his gaze near unbearable. The dressing gown feels too heavy, bare as she is beneath it. “She has Kenny.”

“Kenichi.” Michiko presses, too amused for it the correction to hold any weight.

“Kenny.” He repeats after a brief pause and passing glance at his ex. “And she’s not the one loyalists are gunning for.”

Simplest explanation, but not the right one.

The right one is a messy thing, a labyrinth. As ensnared as she is, longing for his attention and affection no matter how sparsely they’re given, he’s likewise caught in one of her own design.

And neither of them have made any true effort to tear free, instead settling in and becoming familiar with the surrounding walls; knowing it was built for them and finding traces of the other in decorative murals and toothed traps. A terrifying thought, but of everyone that could know her so well she’s glad it’s him.

That in itself is a problem.

“Then I have no other objections. He’s—” a pause as she catches the words between her teeth, dangerous things in their blatancy and apparent expectation as Michiko raises an eyebrow with a too-knowing look. “Suitable. Despite the mar on his record.”

“Excellent.” There’s a soft, pleasant clink as Michiko gently claps her hands together. “Then as I said, I’ll leave you to it.” And she does, with nary a look back and a haste to her step that doesn’t quite hide the self-content bounce.

Girlish, she would’ve called her once, naïve even. She’s since decided that was an unfair assessment; someone naïve and girlish could not have managed a nearly bloodless coup as Michiko did. Whatever joys the woman had she was more than entitled to; and Victoria would protect them, tooth and nail.

“What fucking mar on my record, Blondie?”

Even if she’d rather curse her timing and approach to certain matters at the moment.

“The one left by Yorinobu.” It’s easier to look into the red of the wine than his optics, softer on the eyes. “Or his death, to be more accurate.”

A stain by her own hand, splattered onto his reputation.

A beat of silence answers her. Then another.

And another.

She looks over the wineglass to meet his stare, her lips pulling with a smug smile. Adjusting herself, she lounges into the chair and curls her finger in a ‘come here’ motion. The thrill of his obedience mixes nicely with the familiarity of his looming, with the cool of metal hands against warming skin. “I trust you’ll be more…attentive with me, Smasher.”

“I’ll consider it,” a pause, and she can see the wheels in his head turning just as easily as she sees the pull on his maw, that mockery of a smile he can manage, “cunt.”

“Prick.”

[smol-and-grumpy]

Light My Fire - CH05

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: Angst, tension, sexual frustrations, NSFW

WC: 3861

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​​​ <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

Y/N wakes up late the next day. It’s probably because she tossed and turned in her bed for quite a long time. She couldn’t sleep, her mind constantly on Dean, thinking of that damn fucking kiss and his gestures of affection. Even though it was the last thing she wanted to think about. After about two hours of lying awake, she decided to do something about her sexual frustrations. 

Of course she had thought about going over to his room but that would mean that she might have to cross a line she doesn’t know if she’s supposed to be crossing. Although she’d think that Dean probably wouldn’t mind? She just doesn’t know? He’s so hard to read. Either that or she’s too oblivious to notice these kinds of things. 

So, she lay there in the dark rubbing herself, and however much she wanted to come, it didn’t work, and that frustrated her even more. She thinks she fell asleep angrily, if that’s even possible.

She stretches in bed, pulls the cover over her head again and tries to fall asleep one more time. There’s still that stupid tingling sensation between her thighs and it gets more unbearable the longer she’s awake. That’s just fucking great. 

When it becomes too unbearable to stay in bed much longer, she gets up and reaches to the night stand for her phone. As soon as the lock screen lights up, she sees a text from Jack. 

 J: [picture]

 She thumbs the message open to look at the picture, it’s one of her and Dean from last night. They really do look like a happy couple. 

 J: Do you wanna tell me what’s that all about? When did you get married and why didn’t you tell me?

 Oh, no. She totally forgot about the pictures that hit the internet this morning. Well, she thought about it but it’s not like Dean’s an A-list celebrity so she never really thought that Jack’s going to find out about it. Apparently, the joke’s on her.

 Y/N: I’ll explain everything to you soon, alright? Just trust me. 

 She doesn’t wait for a reply, she needs coffee in her system first if Jack should answer, but knowing him, he probably won’t. He’ll give her the silent treatment for at least two days. She walks out into the living area in only her sleep shirt because she’s getting bolder around here, and also mainly because she knows that Dean’s already out at work anyway.

Today, she thinks that she’s going to need to hit the gym. Needs to somehow get her frustrations out, and then she’ll let the massage comforter knead the tension out of her. Maybe then she’ll be able to sleep again. She might take an afternoon nap after, for good measure.

Walking into the kitchen, the familiar smell of cologne and coffee greets her and there’s another sticky note on the coffee machine.

I hope you slept well. Thank you for coming along last night. I meant it when I said that I had fun. Don’t overthink the thing with Amara, okay? I want you to relax today. I’ll see you this evening. — D

She shouldn’t be smiling. Why is she smiling? 

Ugh, Dean.

Ugh.

Yeah, she definitely needs to hit the gym.

 *

 When she’s changed into her gym gear, her phone pings with a message.

 G: You need anything? What are you up to? Gabe

 She frowns a little. Gabe? Why is he texting her? She doesn’t have time to think so she quickly types in a reply.

 Y/N: No, thank you. About to hit the gym now.

 Crouching down, she ties her shoes and searches for her headphones. It takes her an awfully long time to find them, as she couldn’t for the love of her remember where she put it. By the time she finds it, she’s already sweating bullets.

She runs to the front door and when she opens it, she bumps right into Gabe. Something falls out of his hand from the impact and drops onto the floor. Her eyes go from Gabe to the thing.

“Oh, I thought you were out, sorry.” He gets back on his feet, quickly picks up the package from the floor and hides it behind his back.

If he thinks that she didn’t see it, he better think again. Because it’s a fairly large packet of condoms (fucking condoms!) and she couldn’t have missed that if she tried.

“Who are they for?” She asks, and feels something squeezing at her heart. Something that makes her chest hurt.

“For me,” Gabe answers quickly.

Y/N stares him down, raises her eyebrow. She could ask him if they were for him, what he’s doing with them here. Or why he comes in when he thinks that she’s out. She could voice all of her thoughts but instead, she gave him a silent glare, and crossed her arms over her chest.

Gabe sighs and rolls his eyes before he speaks, “Fine, the boss said to come in when you’re out and drop it in his room.”

So it is for Dean! Just like she thought it would be.

“You can take it back,” 

“But—”

“He doesn’t need them.” She hisses, and cuts Gabe’s sentence short.

“Fine. Okay, but you are going to explain to him why I couldn’t drop them off.”

“Gabe, just go.” She does her best to stay calm but on the inside, she’s raging.

She watches Gabe lower his head and retreat. After she’s sure that Gabe’s gone, she sends Dean a text because she doesn’t know his schedule and doesn’t want to interrupt one of his meetings. Plus, it’s easier to do it by text because right now, she doesn’t even want to talk to him at all.

 Y/N: CONDOMS! Condoms, Dean? Really? We had a fucking deal. I’m out!

 Gym is cancelled. She needs to get out of here fast and storms back into the apartment and hurries to her room. She takes out her suitcases and starts to pack. Her phone chimes a couple of times but she ignores it. 

One full suitcase later, she hears him. 

Fuck!

She was kind of hoping that he’d be in a meeting and couldn’t get out of it. Or maybe, in hindsight, she should have sent the text after she left but she was too fucking mad to think straight.

The front door slams so loud, it makes her jump, and his dress shoes click away on the marble flooring. They come closer and there’s nowhere for her to hide but in this room. 

“Y/N!” There’s a knock, “Open up!”

“No!”

“Jesus, you know that I could just kick the door in, right? So open up now or I will.”

Ugh. Would Dean really kick the door in just to talk with her? She decides not to test that theory. Besides, what could go wrong, right? She’s still mad and running away from problems won’t make it go away. She’d tried that one, but it didn't work.

She walks to the door and opens up to a distressed Dean. His tie’s a little loose, his hair ruffled up and he’s sweating. She can see the little droplets by his hairline. 

“What the fuck happend?” He growls at her, it’s low and deep and it should maybe scare her but she’s unfazed. Had seen him like this more time than she can count.

“You ask me what happened? Gabe brought you a pack of condoms, Dean! That’s what happened! Condoms! A fucking big pack, too!” 

Y/N throws her hands in the air, her throat makes a frustrating sound. And then she tries to breath to calm herself while Dean’s still staring at her, one fucking eyebrow raised. 

She ignores him and goes on, “Fucking condoms! When we both agreed that we’ll stay abstinent and won’t flirt or fuck anyone else in the six months so as to not jeopardize this whole fucking fake marriage!”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean breathes out, threads his hand through his hair, “That’s what you’re upset about?” 

He talks like it’s no fucking big deal! It makes her even more mad. 

“Of course I’m fucking upset! I’m pissed!” She spits out her words, “You let him bring you condoms so you can fuck around? How’s that fucking fair to me? All eyes are on me, Dean! If I slip, I’ll take you down with me, but if you sleep around, that’s o-fucking-kay? You’re a fucking hypocrite!” She notices  that he steps in some more but there’s room by the door so storms past him, knows that one of her books is still in the living room and she wants to grab that now because she can’t stand there and look at him one minute longer.

“Y/N, calm down, let me explain,” He talks in a calmer voice, and follows her. Damn his fucking long legs because he catches up to her and grabs her arm, makes her turn and crowds her against the wall, one hand placed right next to her head and one hand on her hips, holding her there, “Please.”

He wants to explain? Yeah, sure. She’s looking up at him, challenges him, a frown etched deep in her face, “Explain? What is there to fucking expla—”

She can’t finish her sentence because Dean attacks her mouth and kisses her roughly to shut her up. And why is she giving in? She shouldn’t be giving in but fuck, if his kisses doesn’t make her weak in the knees. 

He leaves his forehead on hers when he parts, pecks her lips once more when he sees that all the fight has left her body. Dean sighs before he talks, his voice is deep, gravelly, “Goddamnit, Y/N, the condoms were for us, alright?”

What?

“For us?” She frowns and Dean chuckles, his breath hot against her face. Coffee and chewing gum. He’s a notorious gum chewer. It sometimes drives her nuts because she has to make sure that there is gum everywhere in the office should he need one.

“Yeah, I was to make you a proposition. If we’re not allowed to date and see other people, I was gonna ask you if you’d be game if we—” He points his index finger between the two of them, “—you know, enjoy each other. No strings attached other than the fake marriage,”

“You want me?” She doesn’t believe him and he knows that she doesn’t. His mouth seals around hers again. It’s a little rougher, harder, his hot tongue sliding against hers, both of his hands are on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh. Before it can get too hot, he breaks it off and she whimpers against his mouth, making him chuckle.

“You just don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?”

“My god, Y/N! You turn me on so fucking much, you have no fucking idea.” His face changes. His eyes are a little darker, his voice a little deeper, “The first night with you? I was so hard I jerked myself off in the showers.”

Her mouth opens to form an ‘o’, “‘S that why you didn’t wanna get into the tub with me?”

He lets out a breath, “Yeah, I didn’t think I could have hidden my boner and it was for your own safety because I might have just attacked you.”

She grins.

Dean chuckles nervously, it’s rare that he’s nervous, “And last night? Last night was super hard because I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I thought about you and how you tasted. How you’re just laying in the next room. I had to take another long shower, thought of you when I did it.”

Y/N has to chuckle at the image and it makes her light headed. He thought of her? 

“So,” Dean says, pecks her lips again, “What do you say? You game? While you’re here we could have some fun?”

Y/N lets his words sink in. 

While she’s here they could have some fun. Yeah, they could. She’s clearly attracted to him, and he might be to her either. They’re adults, right? Sex works without feelings, you don’t have to love someone to have great sex, right? 

She stands on her tiptoes, hooks her arms around his necks and looks at him. He has a frown on his face, and he looks at her expectantly. 

And when she nods, Dean smiles, crashes his mouth on hers, kisses her wantonly, teeth biting down on her bottom lips, making her yelp up into his mouth. 

Dean pins her to the wall, presses his body closer, his hand goes from her hips to behind her back to knead at her ass and she arches her back, giving him better access. She can feel that he’s hard right now.

“Jesus, fuck—,” Dean pants, “I’m so hard I could pound nails.” He thrusts his hips, and it gives her just the right friction. 

Y/N giggles against his lips and Dean shuts her up with a bruising kiss. His hands go back to her hips, turns her around roughly and she braces her hand on the walls to soften the impact. His mouth kisses her cheeks, goes down her jawline and nibbles at her throat and she arches her back, drives her ass into his bulge while his fingers dig into the seam of her yoga pants at her ass, tearing the fabric in two.

“Dean!”

“I’ll buy you new ones,” His lips suck at her pulse point, tongue wet and hot on her skin, tears some more so that her pants are hanging down her legs, only now held together by the elastic band around her waist.

His long fingers move her string aside, strokes along the crack of her ass to the front, groans when he feels that she’s soaked there. 

“Fuck,” She curses and arches her back some more. It feels so good to have someone else touching her there other than herself. 

Dean groans when he feels that she’s soaked, and he whispers into her neck, “Can— can I fuck you? I don’t think I can sit through a meeting knowing that you’re going to be here. All ready and fucking wet for me.”

God, his words turn her on so much.

“Ye-ah,” Her breathing hitches, because he slips in a finger and he groans out some more at that.

Dean sucks in her skin on her neck, lets it go with a huff of breath and a grin and pulls his finger out. He has to chuckle when he hears her whimper at the loss. He takes a step further away and she hears the metal of his belt buckle. She stays pinned there, doesn’t dare to move but she wriggles her ass and it might make her look needy, which she really is. 

She hears a hiss when Dean frees his cock, can hear him spit into his hands and he’s probably working his own dick and god, she wants to see. 

“Look at you, fuck—” He comes closer, his hand squeezing her ass, fingers spanning wide. He spanks down on them too, making her yelp up and then he threads his fingers through her folds ones more before she hears shuffling behind her, and there’s his fucking tongue at her center, his nose buried deep into the crack of her ass. 

“Oh fuck,” She lets out a huff of breath and lowers her forehead to the cold wall. And she can’t help it, she has to arch her back, pushing her ass into Dean’s face and he hums, while his tongue twirls around her entrance. She hears the wet sound of Dean working his own dick while he licks into her.

“You taste so fucking good,” He mumbles, licks another broad stripe, slurps up her juice and she keens above him.

After a while he comes up again, kisses from her shoulder up her neck, his mouth is wet. His hard cock rests between her ass cheeks and he thrust his hips, can’t not stay still, cursing under his breath, “Fuck, I don’t have any condoms because you sent Gabe away.”

“Don’t care,” She manages to say and she’s fucking needy, she doesn’t care anymore because she feels his heavy and hard dick between her cheeks and she wants it inside.

“You sure?” 

“Fuck me already,” She drives her ass back, wriggles with it and Dean has to chuckle. 

He takes his dick into his hand, threads the tip through her slick and rests it at the entrance of her cunt. Dean lowers his head to her throat, sucks on a patch of skin before he pushes in. 

“Oh shit,” She moans out, throws her head back a little and Dean drives his teeth into her throat at the feeling and holds her skin between his teeth as he dives in further.

Dean goes in agonizing slow, but she needs that, needs time to adjust and to accommodate his girth. He's big, at least bigger than the dicks she had, which aren’t really many, but that’s not the point. He works his way inside and she stretches around him, helps him by moving her hips to make it easier. Dean groans out when he’s sheathed all the way inside.

“God you’re so deep,” She grits her teeth.

Dean’s panting hard and he kisses a way up her throat until he kisses the sensitive skin below her ear, he doesn’t move just yet. “You okay?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” She says, has to take another deep breath, “Yeah. Are you?”

“‘M trying not to come. You feel so good, fuck—” He hisses and then he composes himself, “When was the last time you done this?” His hip starts to move slowly, fucking up into her as deep as he can go and moves out far enough to just leave the tip in, only to repeat his movements. His hands are all over her, up below her shirt to knead at her tits through her sport bra, on her hips, around her waist, on her ass as he spanks her twice and spreads her wide to watch his dick going in and out of her cunt.

“God, I don’t know, maybe six months ago? Why?” She doesn’t really understand why they’re talking about this. She can’t really concentrate with his dick making her feel so fucking good.

“It feels like you’ve never done this before, you’re so goddamn tight, Jesus! Tightest little pussy,” His hands fists in her hair, yanks her head back so he can whisper into her ear, “You like my cock, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” She manages to say, his other hand is on her throat.

“Uh-huh?” Dean whispers, “Look at you taking my dick like a good girl,”

Fuck, he’s talks so dirty and it turns her on so much. She’s grinning, enjoys the feel of him pounding into her. Dean moves faster now, fucks the laugh right off her face.

After a while he lets go of her hair, pushes her against the wall once more and his mouth is always on her, nibbling, kissing and sucking the skin of her cheek, throat, the back of her neck. He fucks her deep, hard, she’s going to be sore, she just knows it. But it’s good. So fucking good because his cock curves at the tip, it rubs at her spot on the inside and she’s so fucking close. 

“Dean, I’m— I—” Shit, she can’t even say anything coherent. Her nails dig into the wall.

“Come for me, baby,” He nibbles down her jaw, sucks at her pulse point once more, one of his hands sneaks around the front, rubs along her clit.

Baby.

That does it. 

She shakes around him and her pussy squeezes and pushes at his dick so hard it slips right out, but Dean grabs it and pushes it right back in to fuck her through her orgasm.

“Good girl,” Dean pants, his thrust starts to falter right after, “Baby, where do you want me to come?” 

“Come in me,” She whispers, “I want you to come deep in me,”

“Jesus fuck,” He bites down her shoulder and holds his breath as he buries himself balls deep inside of her. He’s trembling, his hips jerk.

He breathes through his nose, his mouth still on skin, and he shudders. Dean sucks at the skin that bears his bite mark, soothes it with his warm tongue. “Jesus, I couldn’t even warn you. You saying things like that made me explode.”

She chuckles, her hand goes up to cup at his cheek, she can feel the prickle of his scruff.

“Shit,” Dean lowers his forehead to her shoulder, and she scratches at the short hair on the back of his head, “I have to go back to the meeting I kinda left in a hurry.”

“You left a meeting?” She frowns, “An important one?”

“Kinda? Donatello was about to present me with the numbers of the west coast. I gave them a thirty minutes break,” He chuckles, “I ran here. Couldn’t risk you leaving.”

“Jesus Christ, Dean, go back, now!”

“I am,” He growls and pulls himself upright. It also means that he’s slipping out of her and she squirms at the empty feeling, hates it already.

Dean’s cum drips to the floor and she turns around, still leaning against the wall because she doesn’t know if her legs will be able to hold her up. There’s cum splatters between them and she can see that while Dean tucks himself in, he’s looking on the floor, hesitant about cleaning it up and knowing that he’ll show up even later if he does it.

“Go! I got this!” She tells and Dean nods at her, zips up his pants. While he is securing his belt, she helps him right his tie. 

“I’ll smell like sex.” Dean smirks.

“Just run back, then you’ll smell of sweat.”

He snorts out a laugh, “Right, we’re good?”

“Yeah,”

He raises his eyebrows as if he doesn’t believe her, “You’re not leaving?”

“Nu-uh,” 

How can she? How is she supposed to leave now? Now that she knows that it was all for her?

Dean smiles, grabs her by the waist to pull her close, his fingers skim over the bite mark on her shoulder, “‘M sorry bout that,” 

Y/N shakes her head, “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

He smiles and leaves a last lingering kiss, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

She nods and watches him leave. Her pussy’s still pulsing and she feels hot and wet, Dean’s cum is running down her legs when she walks to the kitchen, leaving a trail behind. 

Well, there goes her workout, instead she'll get on all fours and clean up the mess they made. 

After she cleans up, she sits in the hallway, right at the very spot that Dean just fucked her and leans her head back and closes her eyes. 

Oh my god, she just fucked her boss, or more like, he just fucked her! If that isn’t fucked up, she doesn’t know what is.

CH06

[raendown]

A commission for @sarcastic-mommy.

Pairing: MadaraSakura Word count: 6940 Rated: M Summary: It took yelling and insults and everything but an outright accusation for Sakura to get through to him - and then she got under him.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header! 

A Pleasure Doing Business

She was wearing a new suit today. Madara’s eyes followed the woman closely as she marched down the hallways, hard green eyes staring bluntly forward, refusing to meet his gaze yet despite the clear glass walls making it all too easy. Almost every day for the past several weeks he had seen her stomping past his office with fury in every line of her body and always she wore a tidy power suit tailored specifically to draw his eye. Today’s suit was a crisp mint color that set off her bubblegum hair like a double stacked ice cream cone he craved to run his tongue over. 

The door of his office slammed against its own rubber stopper with an ominous rattle when she pushed it open. It was only in the past week that she’d finally bullied her way past the army of secretaries and assistants to approach him personally, tired of being given the run around by old men determined to talk circles around her without answering a single question. Madara was of two minds about this. On the one hand he would never say no to a pretty lady’s company, especially one with a mind as intelligent as hers, but on the other hand he was getting tired of being on the business end of that sharp tongue. 

Haruno Sakura was a name he had only vaguely recognized in articles from his local newspaper until the day she slammed in to his personal space with vitriol hidden in the legal jargon dressing up her temper as something almost polite. Then he was forcibly reminded of the girl he’d had a minor crush on in his senior year of university. He felt no guilt for forgetting her, it had been years since his school days and it wasn’t like they’d had any classes together; he’d never even really had more than a handful of conversations with her back then. For the first several times she barged in to spit the most politely worded acid he’d ever heard Madara thought she might have forgotten him as well. She disabused him of that the first time he caught her sneering at the MBA certificate hanging on his wall. 

She spared another glower for the intricately framed document now, something that had almost become a ritual of her visits. 

“Not only is everyone you employ morally bankrupt,” she growled, forgoing any pretense of friendly greetings, “but their boss is crooked beyond repair!” 

“I am their boss,” Madara pointed out.

“Yes. I do not retract my statement.” 

“Well a good morning to you as well, Haruno-san. I take it you received the latest proposal we sent you?” 

If he were honest Madara had only a very vague idea of what that proposal contained. Owning the company didn’t necessarily mean he needed to micromanage every piece of paperwork that left the building. That’s what he paid other people to do. Every member on the board of directors had been handpicked by his father, people he knew that he could trust to take care of the boring day-to-day. No need for him to bother them all by shoving his nose in to every little thing.

“This?” Sakura held up a folder he hadn’t noticed her carrying. “If you’re talking about this rag, I don’t know how you can dare to call it a proposal!” With a scoff she tossed it down on his desk. Madara watched the papers slip out with a mild expression, irritated to have a mess made of his work space but unwilling to show it. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not the one to yell at? Go talk to my board of directors.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in charge of them? How can you let them do things like this?”

Slamming her hands down on his desk put her in a rather suggestive position. Were he someone with a little less tact Madara noted that he could have slid his eyes down for the perfect view inside her top. It didn’t matter how attractive she was, though. He wasn’t a pig. And despite the base urges of his body to crawl between those deliciously strong thighs he wasn’t sure he would survive a woman who clearly hated him so badly. 

Instead he deliberately yawned and flicked some of the papers back towards her, turning back to his computer in a clear dismissal. 

“Yeah, I’m in charge,” he said. “Which means I delegate responsibilities and I have delegated the unpleasant task of listening to your childish rants off to someone else. Go bother them.” 

“Ugh! How can you be so infuriating!? I don’t care what the rest of my colleagues think! Without me signing off there will be no contract with your company and I refuse to do business with someone who can turn a blind eye to such disgusting practices!” 

Keeping both palms flat on the desk, she glared at him over the massive wooden surface as though the weight of her ire alone could force him to break. Madara stared back at her with as little expression as he could muster. If nothing else these little visits were excellent practice for that fabled self control his brother was always nagging at him for lacking. So maybe he had a bit of a temper. Big deal. At least he hadn’t snapped yet and thrown anything at her no matter how many times he’d been tempted by the various heavy objects within arms reach. 

His lawyers had advised against doing that anymore.

“Nothing that goes on here is in any way illegal, I've been assured of that,” he said. 

“Oh you’ve been assured. Of course. I forgot how lazy you are. Still riding through life on daddy’s coattails and letting everyone else do the work for you.” Sakura dragged her palms back and straightened with a look of derision. “You haven’t changed at all, you know that?”

“I’m still as handsome as ever?” Madara grinned, enjoying the twitch of her left eye. 

“What does the outside matter? All I see are your ugly spoiled insides.”

He let the sound of his careless laughter follow her out the door, watching her storm down the hall to go bother the people who had actually written the proposal sent to her company. Only when she was well out of sight did he allow the expression to drop. Hands clenching in to fists, brows furrowing, he lowered his eyes to the mess on files spread across his space. Whatever was in there couldn’t be all that bad, could it? It wasn’t like they were doing anything illegal. 

Alone now, there was no one there to watch him consciously loosen his fingers only to drum them agitatedly against the deks. Letting your opponent see that they had gotten to you in any way was a weakness one could not afford. He’d learned that from his father. What bothered him was how right she was about the fact that he’d gotten most of what he had in life simply by being Tajima’s son, a fact he usually found some way to justify so he didn’t have to admit it even to himself. There was just something about Haruno Sakura that got under his skin the way no one else had ever managed to. Afterimages of those green eyes staring at him with disappointment made him scowl even as he shot one hand out to gather the paperwork together, dragging in towards himself.

Maybe he’d gotten in to university because his father paid off the school. And maybe he’d risen through the company so fast because no one dared say anything about their boss’ son. Yes, maybe he had even stepped in to the position of CEO because he inherited his father’s majority shares when he passed away of a lingering illness a few years back. None of that made him incompetent. Madara liked to think he was a smart man with more to offer than just his last name. He would show her. Whatever was in this stupid proposal that riled her up so badly, he was sure he could figure out a way to placate Sakura in to signing off on it. He might not pay as much attention as he probably should but he knew enough to tell that the shipping company Sakura sat on the board for was the cheapest and fastest way to ship the goods his company produced. 

Over the distant sounds of someone else getting screamed at Madara was able to read through every document in the folder. And with every line his grew wider and wider in horror. The part of his brain that desperately didn’t want to believe what he was seeing tried to come up with some plausible situation in which Sakura might have fabricated everything on these papers no matter how ridiculous but even as his thoughts raced for an excuse he knew that none of them could be true. There was no denying the signatures on the very last page. 

“What”-he whispered quietly to himself-“the fuck.” 

After reading through everything he organized the lot of it back in to the order it was meant to be and read through the whole thing again just to be sure he hadn’t imagined anything. It was hard to believe something this full of bullshit had come out of a company with his name on it. Suddenly all the times Sakura had leaned over the desk to scream at him felt much more appropriate. 

Distracted as he was by such awful discoveries, Madara nearly leapt straight out of his chair when the door opened with a smack of someone’s hand against the glass. He looked up to find the woman he’d just been thinking about storming back in to the room. 

“I didn’t mean to leave that with you,” she said, reaching for the folder he’d only just closed. 

“You’re taking it?” 

“Get your own copy if you want something to gloat over,” Sakura growled. 

Reaching across the desk, she took hold of the folder only to stop with an exasperated sigh when Madara put his hand down to keep the papers in place. “I’ve just read these,” he said.

“Congratulations. Now give it back.”

“I hadn’t seen these before.”

“Not keeping up with everything happening right under your nose? Figures. That sounds like you; just as lazy and entitled as you always were. Now let me have my documents!” 

Madara pressed down harder to keep them in place while his brows furrowed in irritation. “We’ve shipped with your company before. Have all the contracts we’ve made with you looked like this?” 

Seeing that she would not be getting the papers back until they had the conversation he wanted, Sakura took her hand back and folded both arms with a scowl. It was an unfairly good look on her and a testament to how shaken he was that Madara couldn’t even concentrate on the way anger lit up her features.

“Obviously some of the things in there weren’t part of the proposal, I printed them off myself as evidence to back up my claims against your frankly disgusting practices. How do you live with yourself?” The heat of her glare would no doubt have been much more effective if he weren’t already reeling with disbelief. Sakura gave him a rather suspicious look when he relinquished his hold, allowing her to slide the folder over and pick it up. 

“I didn’t authorize any of that,” he said. 

“Yes you did!” One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows lifted in judgment. “Are you or are you not in charge of this company?”’

“Well- I mean yes- Haruno-san, I’ve never seen those documents before in my life! I swear to you! I had no idea any of this was happening!” Madara leaned forward as though a closer proximity might help impress upon her just how serious he was. Whether or not that worked, she didn’t look all that impressed. 

“Just because you’ve been complacent and made a clown show out of your own job does not absolve you of the responsibility. You turning a blind eye allowed for your company to take part in these disgustingly unethical practices and I refuse to do business with someone whose morals can be bought with compliments and a fancy office. Find someone else to ship your slave-made, cheaply sourced, landfill fodder goods! So long as I sit on the board it will not be us!” 

She turned to leave, stopping to look back when Madara stood from his chair with a loud clatter. “Wait! You don’t understand!” 

“Oh?”

“If I had known any of this was going on- you have to believe me, I would never have let any of this happen. Will you…” A scowl touched his face to match her, hating the words even as he forced them out of his mouth. “Will you help me?”

Sakura blinked. 

“Help you?” she asked in surprise. Madara pointed to the files she was holding. 

“You said you dug up a bunch of that evidence on your own. I can’t just fire my entire board without cause. Especially not since I’ve allowed them to take over so many things, they’ve probably got more power than me over this shit. Father told me I could trust them so I always figured there was no point in another pair of eyes looking over everyone’s shoulders. I just let them do their jobs and never gave much thought to whether or not they were actually doing it right.” Admitting that much stung. The rest he forced out between his teeth, guilt heavy in his chest but so unused to asking others for help. “I’ll need to get as much information as I can before I start making any accusations, I need to know exactly what’s been going on here and how much I’ve overlooked. Will you help me?”

“Well. I was not expecting that.” All the aggression seemed to flow out of Sakura’s body, shoulders lowering and one hip jutting out as she propped her weight on that side. Under better circumstances he might have been distracted by how the movement pulled at the skirt of her suit, by the way he wanted to tear that mint cotton off her skin with his teeth, but not now. He could think of nothing but how to prove his question was a sincere one. 

Bruising his pride a little was the only thing he could come up with, a sacrifice he hadn’t made for anyone since he was very young. Taking a deep breath, he took a quick glance on either side to make sure they weren’t being watched through the walls, then spoke very quietly. “Please.” 

“Just tell me one thing. Why should I?”

“Because you’ve been in here yelling at me about corrupt morals and shit for weeks now,” Madara growled, nearing the end of his patience. “You were the one who said we need to clean our shit up; I’m offering a chance for you to show me all the messes these people have made right under my nose.” 

“Oh if only I could go back to that first year in university and tell myself this moment was coming.” Smug was a damn good look on her, he had to admit that much. 

“So are you going to help me or not?” He demanded. 

He had his answer in one decisive nod and the way she too looked around furtively to make sure their conversation had no chance of being overheard. Then she stepped back over to hold one hand out across the desk. When Madara took it she squeezed his fingers with a grip much stronger than her slight frame belied. 

“I guess I do need to put my money where my mouth is. We should meet up somewhere private. I’ll gather everything I’ve dug up so far and all the contracts and proposals we’ve had from Uchiha Tech over the last few years.” Sakura let go of his hand to flick the hair back over her shoulder. “It’ll take a while for me to get it all together but I’ll contact you when I have it. Do you have somewhere we could meet?” 

“My place should do.” Madara scowled when she lifted an eyebrow at him but didn’t bother to defend his suggestion. Let her think what she wanted of him. 

As far as he could tell no one took much notice of Sakura when she left that day. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon sight by now to see her marching through the glass hallways with all the regal bearing of a queen traversing her own kingdom. Madara watched her go until the shape of her form was distorted by so many walls between them before leaning back in his chair and tilting his chin up to stare at the ceiling. He tried to imagine how he would have reacted to being openly accused of even half the things he’d just read, the terrible working conditions, the unethical demands, the work hours listed that clearly meant whoever produced their tech was either not taking breaks or working too many hours or both. Probably with scorn for the accuser’s overactive imagination or anger that someone could dare believe such things of him. In all the many rants Sakura had gone in to she’d never once outright accused him of anything, only hinted, something he realized he should have been grateful for. 

Now he sat and counted the ceiling tiles above him to distract his mind from instinctive rage as he tried to come to terms with the idea that she was right, he was responsible for everything that had gone wrong in this company. Whether or not these practices had been going on when his father was alive Madara couldn’t say but when he took the helm himself - well. He could see now that he really had been the lazy spoiled child Sakura had called him many times. Just because he hadn’t actively taken part in any of these barely legal activities didn’t mean he was blameless. He was supposed to be in charge. 

Yet here he sat in the quiet of his office and he knew that if he continued to sit here for several more hours not a single person would disturb him. He was so far removed from his own company and he had only himself to blame for it. 

Gathering evidence from his end wasn’t exactly some top secret mission dodging around the people who supposedly answered to him. Copies of almost everything sat right there in the room with him. Madara was horrified to realize that everything his directors had done had been with his full and completely ignorant approval. Every contract, every major decision, every change to the staffing policies, all of it had been laid politely on his desk and then filed neatly away after a quick glance at the cover so he could go on pretending he had any idea of what the fuck his actual duties were supposed to be around here. 

The easy life of luxury he’d been enjoying for years was slipping between his fingers with every file and folder he pulled out to actually read in detail but Madara couldn’t find it in himself to be too angry about that part. Lots of people worked hard for their money. It was probably about time he joined those ranks. Much as Sakura didn’t seem to think so, he really did have a work ethic hidden somewhere inside him; it was just that he’d thought he could trust the old geezers here and they’d seemed happier when he stayed out of their way. As a young man barely out of school being handed so much at once he’d thought it was all a dream come true and left it at face value. 

What a naive child he’d been all these years. 

Actually removing all the files he wanted for evidence took much longer than finding them in his mockingly well organized office. When Sakura told him she needed time he had chafed at the delay but in the end he was grateful for it, heading home each day with bits and pieces hidden in the briefcase most assumed was just for show. They’d been right up until recently. 

By the time Sakura contacted him on his personal cell - a number he would have loved to know how she’d got ahold of - Madara was only too glad to welcome her in to his home and the living room that now looked more like the archives of Uchiha Tech than a place to relax in. He felt validated in some strange way to see the approval in her eyes as she looked around at all the mess he’d made. 

“Well, someone certainly has been busy,” she noted.

“You’re not wearing a suit,” Madara blurted, immediately wanting to slap himself upside the head. Of course she wasn’t wearing a suit outside of work. It wasn’t like he’d never seen her in more casual clothes before, just that it had been so long the sight of her in little shorts and a plain tshirt did things to his belly he wasn’t all that prepared to deal with. 

Sakura lifted one eyebrow with a dubious smile. “I worry for your intelligence sometimes.” 

“Hey!” 

“Anyway, I’ve got almost this much crap myself but hauling it all here would have taken too long. Luckily my company likes to have digital copies of everything so I’ve brought a couple flash drives. Have you got a computer we can use?” 

“Yeah, hold on.” 

Madara left her alone just long enough to gently bash his head on the wall and grab his laptop from the next room. By the time he came back Sakura had made herself comfortable on the sofa, one pile of the papers he’d gathered pulled in to her lap where she could flip through it with ease. 

“These aren’t anything sensitive, are they? No client information from anyone else or the like?”

“I’m not stupid,” he grunted. 

She hummed distractedly and paused to look closer at something. “No, not stupid. You do have a brain in your head for all that you’ve insisted on wasting it.”

“Look.” Madara threw out a hand to slap down on the pile of papers she was looking at, blocking her view of them and capturing her attention for himself. “Fuck off, alright? If you just came here to gloat or whatever then you’re no longer welcome. You were right, I already admitted that, I can see how much of a willfully ignorant bastard I’ve been - but I’m making an effort here to change that, alright?” 

“Change what, exactly?” 

“My ways or however you want to say it. I want to do better than I have been. Be a better person, a better worker, leader. To do that I need to start with figuring out how deep this corruption in my company goes and how large of a chunk I need to cut off before I start cleansing the wound.”

For nearly a whole minute Sakura remained completely silent, staring at him with something unreadable in her eyes. “Medical analogies?”

“My best friend’s a doctor.” He shrugged. 

“I wanted to be a doctor when I was a kid,” Sakura murmured. 

When she broke eye contact to look away Madara studied the shape of her jawline, realizing suddenly how close they were. 

“Really? How did you end up here, then?” 

Her expression remained far away until she looked back to him again and Madara took several moments to study her even closer, anxious that he might be misinterpreting something. That look in her eyes was a familiar one. He’d seen it on dozens of women before, though he never would have expected to see it on her after the interactions they’d had. When the heat only intensified, however, all he could do was cock his head to the side and stare back, leaving the next move up to his guest. Lust was a game he was all too willing to play no matter how unexpected it was. 

Sakura didn’t seem very aware of the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips, all of her focus locked on to him. All it would take was misinterpreting this one moment and Madara would have lost his only ally in taking down the ones he’d allowed to undermine him. Despite knowing that he still couldn’t quite stop his eyes from following that small flash of pink. 

“I’ve been asking myself that same question,” she said finally. He got the distinct impression she wasn’t talking about her career. “You really are putting in some effort here, aren’t you? Trying to be better?”

“Obviously.”

“Why?”

Madara balked. “What do you mean why?”

“This is a big life change. What motivated you to do it?” 

“Well”-he floundered for a moment, trying to put his thoughts in to words-“it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?”

She moved so fast and so unexpectedly that for a moment it didn’t entirely register what had happened. It took a few seconds before Madara groaned and let his eyes slide closed, cradling the back of Sakura’s head to pull her closer for a deeper kiss. Hopefully she could tell him later what the hell he’d said to get her going but for now he was happy just to enjoy the taste of bitter coffee on her tongue. 

After the many times he’d seen her channel so much passion in to her work it shouldn't have surprised him to see it again now, shoving him down on the couch with surprisingly strong arms and crawling in to his lap all without breaking their kiss. Madara grunted when his head glanced off the armrest but ignored it. His attention was better spent tracing the shape of her hips down to where denim gave way to smooth pale thighs. She kissed like it would give her the oxygen to breathe, like a beast let out of its cage after holding herself back, and that was definitely a feeling he could relate to. 

“Fucking stupid sexy asshole,” Sakura growled in to his mouth. “I hated you so much when we were in school.”

“Oh yeah, I really feel that hatred now.”

“You just had to grow up to be even more arrogant, even more hot!” When she pulled away he garbled out a protest only to fall silent as she tore her own shirt off, baring her teeth like an animal. “I kept telling myself ‘don’t look, just don’t look, he’s not worth it’. Then you had to go and be a good person? How dare you!” 

“Mph!” 

Whatever reply he could have given was swallowed in the fire of another kiss. Delicate fingers pulled at the hem of his own shirt and Madara responded instinctively, working a hand between their bodies to where he could cup the outline of one petite breast. It wasn’t like she was wearing any special sort of lingerie, just a plain bra with little blue polka dots, and still she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life. Probably it had something to do with the way she looked like some vicious lioness on the prowl. 

He truly did not mind being her prey. 

“Good to know we’ve always been on the same page,” he managed to get out between hot kisses. Sakura let out a filthy moan as though his words had hit something deep inside her. 

“Shut up and fuck me!” 

“Ha! You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Mindless of the papers that scattered in every direction or the hours it would surely take him to clean it all up later, Madara took shameless advantage of his larger frame to sit them both up and slam them back down on the opposite end of the couch, pausing a moment to enjoy the sight of pink hair splashed out underneath him. “I’ve wanted to do this ever since you waltzed in to my office in one of those stupid power suits. Do you know how good you look in those things?” 

Gasping for breath, she pulled him down without bothering to respond. That was all the invitation he needed. 

Removing the rest of their clothes wasn’t so much of a romantic process as it was an animalistic tearing of cloth, hands palming flesh wherever they could as they devoured each other with lips and tongues and teeth. It felt like only moments ago they had been nothing but partners in stopping crime. Now they lay naked with their hips rolling together, hard flesh grinding against coarse pink curls, long thighs parting to wrap around his waist. 

“I swear to god if you don’t have a condom-”

“Vasectomy,” Madara gasped. “Hate kids. Tested last month, I’m clean.”

“Then what in hell’s name are you waiting for!?”

“I thought you swore to god,” he said, grinning down at her. “But I can give you hell if that’s what you’re in to.” 

Sakura glared. Then her eyes softened to half mast when he reached down to trace her entrance, wet with a need he felt just as strongly, arching in to the touch. He could feel the muscles in her thighs loosen deliberately as he took himself in hand and lined up with the bliss waiting so eagerly for him. 

“Oh fuck!” The words hissed out from between clenched teeth as he slid inside, instantly overwhelmed by the heat that sheathed him in a perfect fit. 

For once in her life Sakura didn’t seem to have any words, although she clearly seemed to agree with his sentiments if the way her heels dug in to his back was any indication, pulling him impossibly closer. He was only too happy to comply. Curses filled the air as he sank deeper, rocking his hips in shallow thrusts until his pelvis lay flush against her. Then she moaned at him to move and that too was an order he was happy to follow. Pulling away was such sweet torture rewarded with the pleasaure of sliding back in and feeling her clench around him. It really had been too long.

Whether it had been a while for her as well or if she was just that desperate to feel him he couldn’t tell but either way Madara felt a little smug about the way Sakura arched her back when he slid one hand under the small of her back to hold their chests together, pulling her body in to his with each sharp thrust forward. He might have been embarrassed by the unfettered noises punched out of him again and again by such overwhelming pleasure if not for the fact that Sakura echoed him every time, filthy moans and gasps and sharp curses spilling from her lips without a single thought for decorum. It was driving him wild. He always had liked a woman who wasn’t afraid to show that she was enjoying herself - and he would be willing to bet Sakura had never been afraid of anything in her life. 

Her mouth now occupied driving him higher and higher, Madara busied his own with nipping a trail down the side of her neck, tracing his tongue down the ridges of her clavicle, worshipping every inch of pale skin he could reach without folding his body in a way that would interrupt the rhythm of their hips. If the world fell down around his ears he wasn’t sure even that would convince him to stop now. Not when Sakura was holding him tightly, arching up as though offering her breasts for his wandering teeth to feast on. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” she asked, breath hot between them, lips parted in a grin that promised blood. Madara wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. 

“That a challenge?” he demanded in panted syllables.

“Give me everything you’ve got.”

In that moment he would have given her whatever she asked; his time, his fortune, his very heart. He was almost glad she didn’t. A challenge had been issued and he was nothing if not a very proud man. Curving his spine ever so slightly gave him room to work a hand between them, scratching blunt nails down the soft skin of her belly just to watch her squirm, through the curls between her thighs. When he pressed his thumb down on just the right spot Sakura cried out sharply, trembling. 

“Like that?” Madara was aware of how smug he sounded. He didn’t care. 

Neither did she, it seemed, as long as he kept doing what he was doing. So Madara made another circle with firm pressure and grit his teeth when she clenched around him in response, knowing that if he couldn’t bring her over the edge soon he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back for much longer.

“Harder!” Sakura demanded, writhing like she could barely contain the pressure building inside. 

“Anything you ask,” he promised. 

His thumb pressed harder, circled faster, hips rocking back just to watch her cry out for him and then sinking back in with enough force he would not be surprised to find bruises on both their hips the next day. One more circle around her clit and Sakura convulsed like a woman possessed. Her body twisted underneath him, clenching around his length. There was nothing he could do but press inside one last time with a guttural moan spilling between his teeth even as he spilled himself inside her. Madara fell still, letting his head drop forward to rest against the top of her shoulder and breathe through the shudders wracking his body. He was far from the playboy many seemed to label him as but he’d had his fair share of partners throughout the years; none of them had ever been like this before. Nothing had ever left him feeling quite as shaken as the weight of Sakura’s fingers twisted in to his hair as though she never planned to let him go. 

When he felt more in control of his own shivering muscles he pushed himself up just far enough to look down at the woman spread out beneath him, this glorious powerhouse all wrapped up in a tiny perfect package. Sakura looked back at him through hooded eyes.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to respect me in the morning?” she asked with a hint of amusement. Madara let out a soft bark of laughter. 

“Maybe if you stayed the night.”

“Weren’t we supposed to be working?”

“Hey, you’re the one who jumped me,” he pointed out. 

Sakura puffed out both cheeks with annoyance, a startlingly cute display after leaping at him like a wildcat. “I would hardly say I jumped you!” 

Rather than argue the point, for once Madara decided to just let it go. Pulling away to sit up, separating their bodies, was as distasteful as it was necessary. Thankfully he didn’t have to go far. In one swipe he managed to grab some tissues from the nightstand and his pants from the ground before sitting up even farther to allow Sakura some room to clean herself up a bit. Sex was always a messy afair. 

In an effort not to stare like a creep Madara bunched his pants over his lap and took a moment to look around at the mess they’d made of his neatly piled paperwork. Cleaning that all up and reorganizing it was going to take hours but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that; he would have knocked over every crate and pile in this room for the chance to have this woman underneath him willingly. Not that he’d ever planned on mentioning that. He peeked sideways, wondering what it would take to have this again, already addicted after just one taste yet not entirely sure now was the time to ask for more. 

“Can you see where my shirt went?” Sakura asked. “If you want me to look through any of this I need a shirt on. Men always get distracted when there’s breasts flying about.” 

“Just appreciating nature’s good work,” he replied in a dry tone. His movements were sluggish as he reached for the shirt, trying and failing to be subtle about taking one last glimpse just in case this was his last chance to do so. She rolled her eyes when she caught him.

“You can see them again later - after we’ve actually gone through some of this.” 

Madara swallowed back the urge to squirm like an eager child but his voice was still embarrassingly hopeful when he snapped his head around to say, “Yeah? Again?”

Soft cotton slid through his fingers like the ghost of her touch, Sakura’s expression careful but open as she pulled the shirt from his loose grasp and tugged it over her head. Her finger lifted to twist the hem seemingly of their own accord while her gaze held his own. A thousand answers waited for him in those eyes. He wished he knew how to read them. 

“Well, I mean, it was good. No denying that. Apparently I misjudged who you really are underneath all that bluster and that stupid cocky grin; I wouldn’t mind digging a little deeper.” She shrugged, an attempt at being casual that worked about as well as his own attempt, and that was enough for him to understand.

“Right. Let’s get to it then.”

He strove for nonchalance and an offhand tone even though inside he was floating, lighter than he’d felt in years. When he asked for Sakura’s help he really hadn’t meant to ask for anything more, convinced she was only helping him because their agendas had finally aligned, but he was hardly going to complain about getting closer to someone who had always seemed far beyond his reach. He wasn’t one to question good fortune when it landed so nicely in his lap. 

“Now that your eyes are open, first we doctor whatever poison has spread through your company.” Sakura stood from the couch to pull her shorts on, prodding  her neglected underwear aside with one toe before looking up at him to wink. “Then maybe I’ll let you show me what sort of man you can really be when you put your mind to it.” 

Madara scoffed but it did nothing to hide the smile growing on his face. Courting this woman promised to be as much of a challenge as arguing with her was - and that was a challenge he found himself excited to face. When this was all over and the two of them had salvaged what they could of his company, maybe he should offer her a job. To have her light in all facets of his life; now that sounded like a worthy adventure. 

[scriptaed]

ink nemesis. 06

Genre: Angst/Fluff || paparazzi!au; fake dating!au;

Pairing: Reader x Yoongi

Length: 5.6k

Synopsis: As an aspiring writer drowning under the public’s radar, a click of the pen is all you need to accept your supervisor’s offer to co-write an article for the SS - Secrets Spilled, a regular section of your company’s weekly tabloid; but fabricated stories and invasive details aren’t all that you write when you discover Min Yoongi’s dirty little secret. 

...who? 

Yourself and your grotesque reflection that distorts by the second of every day or the daughter born with a silver spoon and your man so tactfully wrapped around her little finger? Whom is it whose influence you had thought to be completely ridden of, despite the endless hours they have managed to thieve from you as they incessantly creep along your conscience even in the darkest of nights? Perhaps, is it a disgraceful force manifested from the wants of your body as it lusts for the warmth of the man who had betrayed your utmost trust? 

Who is it whom has left her here, aloof, abandoned, and so pitifully desperate for affirmation that even you would have scorn her had it not been a spitting image of the current you? 

You fear the answer; so, instead, the little girl in you ill-advisedly persists to indulge in a cyclical wave of toxicity. 

[Anonymous 01:23 AM] Damn how does Ink Nemesis get all of this? She must have worked at Dispatch before haha I love her content but she’s an apologetic asshole

[Anonymous  01:25 AM] To be honest, the CEO’s daughter is so much prettier than his current girlfriend. Yoongi must be regretting his decision.

[User124930 01:26 AM] His current gf isn’t even good looking or wealthy. I wonder what he sees in her? 

[Anonymous 01:27 AM] Switching to his new chick was the biggest mistake of his career 

[Anonymous 01:29 AM] IN, I loved all of your content up til now, but this was a step too far. You knew he had a girlfriend, so why would you release this picture now? It’s irrelevant. Honestly, fuck you. 

On tails, they love you when they need you. On heads, they toss you to the curb when you needed them. Where were all of your supporters in this very moment when you needed them most? Akin to the flip of a coin, loyalty is nothing but an occasional typo on the internet. 

It’s a hard pill to swallow but you do it, nonetheless; in fact, you take them, one every scroll and another every comment until you’re lying in bed—cold and numb, chest wrenching, heart twisting, and mind scavenging for an explanation. 

What did you do to deserve this? 

What could you have done better?

How should you respond to the public?

Should you lash out at them? But what if they condemn you even further? What about your career? Could you survive the fall? Would your dwindling supporters remain by your side? Probably not, considering their silence, right?

Maybe they were right,. Should you not have posted that photo?

Should you not have gotten involved with BTS in the first place? 

What could you have done to avoid falling for Yoongi? 

“Hello? Is anyone in here?” 

A series of hard knocks on the door interrupts your state of panic. Your legs swing over the side of your bed as you propel yourself onto your feet, completely upright and alert at the sudden visit. 

Who could it be? One of his fans? How did they get your address? Has their malicious intents transcended from virtual and into reality? 

Did they really hate you that much? 

Cautiously, you grab your phone and stealthily creep toward the door with a thumb hovered over the emergency dial. The floor barely creeks but the painful pounds of your heart echo in the deafening silence. The blinding blue light of your phone is all that guides you through the pitch black apartment. With red eyes that were sore from hours of scrolling and a mind so physically and mentally drained that you couldn’t even process the potential danger of the situation, you peek into the peephole—not with courage, but rather, with a mind absent of sense. 

Fortunately, the woman who stands on the other side of the door is not one requiring the courage of a lion. At least, physically, she is not one you would fear of; mentally, however, she poses an ongoing threat to your state of mind. 

Her doll-like physique with those doe-like eyes and red popping lips present unpleasant flashbacks of a particular picture you had spent the entirety of last night staring over. 

Her lips on his. 

His lips on hers. 

Jealousy courses through your veins, serving as your only source of courage to face the victim of your schemes head-on. 

“Oh!” the doll jumps backwards once the door swings wide open to reveal a room as dark as the night. “I thought you weren’t home considering…” her sentence is completed by the glimpses she grants around your apartment. “I’m not sure if you know me but allow me to introduce myself. I’m—”

“—I know very well who you are,” your curt interruption catches her off guard. “Why is Yoongi’s girlfriend paying the fake one a visit? How the hell did you even get my address?” 

 “Actually,” she nibbles the inside of her lower lip, slightly nodding her head in submission, despite retaining a firm lock to your eyes. “Yoongi gave me your address… to clear up some things.”

You quirk a brow at the mention of his name. 

Who knew it would actually hurt even more to hear his name than to read it over text? 

“I’m…” she struggles to get the words out. “I’m not actually dating Yoongi. Well, I never was. You were the first one he had ever seen. Yoongi made sure I was going to make that clear to you.” 

“What… what do you mean?” you frown, clearly distraught by the sudden turn of events. Any information just turned into jumble at this point. 

“My father, he’s the CEO of another company that has close ties with BigHit. He wanted to arrange a relationship between myself and Yoongi for publicity purposes, but when Yoongi’s producer explained the plan…” she forces out the remainder of her sentence, “...he objected.” 

Oh is the only expression you could make. Had Yoongi not been lying to you after all? Does his omission of the complete truth still anger you so? You’re not completely sure how you feel, even knowing that he had sent her here as an olive branch and to clear the truth. Still, why didn’t he come here to speak these words himself? 

“But…” your brows furrow and her glance lifts from the ground. “What about that... photo... that’s been circulating online?”

“Photo?” her eyes widen and her mouth falls agape when she realizes your reference. “Oh, that photo of me and him on the balcony?”

She doesn’t know it was you who posted it. Truthfully, you’ve never felt so two-faced as you do now, omitting the truth as Yoongi had done to you. 

Nonetheless, you nod hesitantly. 

“I, um,” she breaks eye contact for the first time and gazes off to the side. Her voice becomes hush and you nearly have to lean in to hear her over her mumbles as her cheeks gradually flush beet red. “...I forced that one on him.”

“What?”

“My father and Bang PD still managed to arrange a few dates between us two… and I,” her eyes flicker between you and the door, “I just couldn’t help but notice how great of a guy he is.” She continues in her reverie, gaze hazey with a grin whisked by the thought of someone dreamy. “I really liked him. More than anyone I had ever seen before. He’s nice and caring, quiet but thoughtful. I could tell he would treasure his woman and treat her well when he found the right one; and even if I wasn’t that woman, I still fell for him.” 

So that was all there was to that accursed photo. 

It takes a full minute for the answer to dawn upon you, the one whom you had feared the most. 

“Right,” you say under your breath, completely defeated. “He does have that effect.” 

“But I didn’t know you two were dating until the news broke out that night!” she nearly yells, eyes widening with panic. “I’m sorry, I swear I wouldn’t have done it if I had known!”

It seems even she doesn’t know the brittle foundation of your relationship with Yoongi. 

“No, no, that’s fine,” you hastily assured because you should be the one apologizing right now if anything. “You should apologize to Yoongi, not me.”

It’s all fake. There’s nothing for her to apologize to you. You want to tell her the truth, but the thought of further ruining his career refrains you from doing so. Why do you want to protect him still? Is it the guilt that plagues you this very moment, now that you know the truth? Or is it the desire to prolong this hoax of a relationship founded upon a delicate lie? 

“I did as soon as I found out,” she dips her head low, “I just didn’t have the courage to find you until Yoongi gave me a reason to.” 

“So,” your face contorts until a concerned frown, “where is Yoongi? Why didn’t he come here to tell me himself?”

“Oh, I…” she hesitates to explain. “I don’t think he’s in the right... mindset to visit you right now. Did you two get into a fight recently…?”

So he doesn’t want to see you.

“Well—” your screams against his yells from last night still pierce your ears“—yes.”

“Maybe it’s time to make things right again now that you know the truth,” she gives you a soft smile of assurance. 

Turns out, the woman you despised the most was all that you needed in the lowest moments of your despair. As if on cue, you absentmindedly nod your head and hurriedly return to your apartment to grab your purse and keys before running out of the musty cave. Holding her hands in yours, your words of gratitude are scrambled by the wind of your haste as you sprinted to the elevator with nothing but him in mind. 

Why did you have to upload that photo? How selfish and spiteful could you have become, to the point of hurting the one you had held so dearly? Does he know of your deeds? 

He would never love you the same if he were to know if what you had become.

What could you do to make things right? 

Could anything make things right?

-

“Yoongi! Yoongi, I’m sorry,” you manage to blurt out in between your heavy breaths as you burst through the company’s doors and spot Yoongi standing in a circle with the rest of the boys. Your gaze locked with his own stern, unfazed ones before he turns his back on you with no intention to acknowledge your presence. Disgruntled by his welcoming, you storm through the front entrance with your last bit of energy as you tried to conceal any signs that you had sprinted here as if your life depended on it. 

Every one of the boys but him stares at you in wariness. The air shifts until it’s painfully stagnant; but no one speaks. 

“Yoongi, c’mon. We need to talk. Listen, I’m sorry about last night. Can we please just talk?” 

Yoongi remains still, affixed to his stance, eyes looking straight ahead and arms crossing as if it was just a meeting between him and the boys. Even at a standstill, the huffs and silence exchanged between you and him are enough for anyone to see the impending storm. 

“Yoongi,” Jimin utters, “you two should really talk it out.”

Yoongi doesn’t answer. 

“Yeah, let’s give them some time alone,” Namjoon gives you a slight nod of acknowledgement before directing the others upstairs. 

The only people left in the room are the two of you. The longest minute passes by and neither of you manage to one-up the other’s stubbornness until, finally, you grab onto the hook of his elbow and turn him around to force him to look at you for once. 

He’s ever-so-silent but his eyes speak more than a thousand words. Fiery, dark, and ablaze, his stern gaze fixate on yours from above. The storm in his eyes brew of the inner turmoil he failed to put into words. You can see your reflection, eyes equally furious as his. You had come here with the intention of apologizing; but now that you've arrived, you realize you were much more than knees-deep into the water. 

The hopes of reconciliation were slim yet true; but now, for the first time ever, you’re truly scared of that dimming possibility. 

“Can you at least say something?” you brows furrow. “Look, I came all the way here because I wanted to apologize about last night, for yelling at you and not trusting you. I heard about your relationship with… her, and I really fucking hate myself for jumping to conclusions. I had my reasons for my distrust because I gave up so much on the line and I felt like I wasn’t getting the same thing in return.”

He remains silent, eyes still burning. 

“Still, you could have at least explained to me. Why were you avoiding my questions? Who were you texting and why you couldn’t tell me? Why did I see her that night in front of my apartment? If nothing was going on, then why couldn’t you tell me—”

“—the photo.”

His words cut like a knife. He speaks slowly, but each and every word demands obedience of its own. 

“Did you post that photo?” 

Time stops and your heart drops. Every hammering against your chest reverberates with pain that courses through your veins to your extremities. His eyes never leave yours as you mull over your options.

What do you say? Should you be honest? Is there a point in lying if you’re so sure he already knows the truth? 

“How…” you frown, shaking your head in denial.

“How do I know?” he reiterates with a twisted snigger, letting out a breath of disbelief. “I wake up with thousands of texts from my company telling me that the internet has been losing their minds over a dumbass picture of me that I never consented to, spend the next hour looking through the SS, only to find an audio of a performance that was only meant to be heard from person I thought I could trust most because — “ he pauses, struggling “ —I really thought she was the one.”

“Yoongi, I’m sorry—”

“—you’re not sorry,” he scorns. “You didn’t come here with the thought of confessing. You came here hoping to apologize because you couldn’t trust me even though I gave you my all. You put my entire career at risk out of spite. You hurt my family, the agency, and the boys because you were too damn selfish.”

“Well,” you snort, “you have to at least admit that I had reasons for not trusting you.”

“You’re right,” he cocks his head with his arms still crossed. “I shouldn’t have avoided your questions. I should have just explained everything to you. Maybe I could have worked on that with you for the sake of our relationship, but there’s nothing to work on now.”

“There’s ‘nothing’ to work on now…?” you repeat in a mutter. “What do you mean…? Are you breaking up with me?”

Yoongi fails to answer, eyes softening in regret even if just the slightest. 

Letting out a sharp breath of disbelief, you shake your head in an attempt to prevent the impending waterworks. “Look, I’m sorry. I really do mean it. I fucked up. I fucked up big time. But do you think I wanted to get into this mess? Do you think I wanted to be so publicly exposed in a world like yours? Do you think I would have descended into this fucking madness that I have if it weren’t for you?” 

Finally, his gaze shifts off to the side. Your snort in response to his silence is nothing but a coping mechanism because it would be impossible to deny the drop in your chest as the seconds pass by and the reality of the crumbling relationship sinks in.

“You’re really serious about this, huh?” you bite your bottom lip to distract you from the pain within when he turns to give you one last, melancholic gaze. 

Stop it, don’t even pretend like this hurts you. You wish you could utter those words to him because it pains you to think that you were the cause of his hurt. 

Nodding your head, you lower your head in an attempt to hide the shame plastered across your face. “Alright then, I guess… this is it. I hope you’re well. You deserve it. And I’m sorry… for everything.” 

Yoongi doesn’t respond, because what else did he have to say at this point? He probably just wants you out of his life as soon as possible. In fact, you wouldn’t even blame him if he were to glare at you in complete disgust—because even you had done that to yourself in the recent months; and it irks you, pains you, even, to see that lovingly gentle look of his that conveyed to you the strength it’s taking him to hurt you in this way. 

Because even if you hate it so, this entire mess was incited by the love you held for him.   

But alas, this is for the best; and, so, you slowly stumble backwards until you meet the automatic door and a blaze of wind awakens something within you as you stood there alone in the streets. 

Why did he have to figure it out? 

Would everything have been fine if you had just covered your tracks better? 

Then it dawns upon you: what if someone had told him?

“Y/N?” a familiar voice calls out to you. “Y/N, I told you not to use SS anymore!”

“Solji…” your meek voice fails to register over the motherly scold. 

She hastily makes her way to you from across the street, her bright orange locks tousling in the wind—everything in slow motion. 

“Y/N, what on Earth were you thinking?! Why did you post that photo of him? You had to have known it would damage his career. Don’t you care about your boyfriend’s career?!” It’s no use. Her voice is completely muffled in the background. It’s almost as if you’re drowning underwater. “Y/N? Y/N, are you listening?!” 

“Solji…” you mumble, eyes looking straight ahead at the red light that had just turned green. “...were you the one who told him?”

“What?” she furrows her brows. “Told who what?”

You turn to glare at her, “did you tell Yoongi that I wrote for the SS?”

“What?” she narrows her eyes at you, agasp. “Why would I ever tell him that?” 

“Then how did he figure out?” you continue to drill, voice rising by the second. “Why are you here outside of BigHit’s building? Why are you always so worried about what I do with SS?!”

“First of all, I don’t know how he found out. I didn’t even know he found out until you told me. Second, I’m here because our boss sent me to settle any lawsuits against defamation that your actions might instigate. Lastly, I’m worried because I’m worried for you, Y/N. I don’t care what you do with SS. I built it up from the ground up but your mental health is my priority,” she sighs in disbelief. “After all that I’ve done for you, do you really think I would do that to you?” 

“I don’t know who to trust at this point, Solji,” your voice ascends into a shrill. “I don’t fucking know!”

“I’m disappointed in you, Y/N,” she shakes her head, backing away toward the building. “Take a break and reflect on yourself, because I’m the last one you should be accusing right now.”

“If it’s not you, then who the hell was it?!” your yells fall on deaf ears as her silhouette fades off into the distance and cold tears stream down your cheeks. 

Your hands begin to fumble as they pull out your phone in a hurry. Dialing another familiar number, you start cursing under your breath. 

[Dialing Xiao Lin]

“Pick up the phone, hurry up and pick up the fucking phone,” your mutters intermix with the chattering of your teeth. 

“Hey girl, what’s—”

“—did you fucking tell Yoongi I wrote for the SS?”

“No…?” she pauses. “Why would I?’

“Look, I don’t know why you would. Maybe this gives you something to write for your own tabloid. Maybe you hate seeing me happy and wanted to ruin my relationship. I don’t fucking know, but you’re the only one who knows the true identity behind Ink Nemesis!”

“I have absolutely no reason to do any of that,” she firmly states, slowly but surely. “I promised you I wouldn’t tell anyone. Can you not trust a friend—”

“—you’re not my friend. We work for fucking tabloids, Lin! Our friendship and our secrecy is based off of a damn picture that just keeps coming back to haunt me.”

“Well, alright then,” a snort of offence travels through the line. “You’re being incredibly unstable. One second, you beg me not to release the picture. Me being the foolish person I am in having a friend like you, wager my job in order to protect your relationship. And now, the next second, you’re releasing the picture yourself.”

“That’s none of your business—”

“—it’s not because turns out we aren’t friends. All I wanted was to befriend someone and you seemed like—no, you were—someone I could trust. I don’t know what happened to her, but I would rather have no friends in this industry if it means having friends like you.”

“Xiao Lin, don’t twist this into my fault—fuck!”

The phone falls helplessly to your sides. Cars zoom by, throwing a gust of wind into the air in every which way. Your already disheveled hair tousles mercifully. Your heart beats but remains still, untouched by the winter chill. Cars honk into the bustling streets, but your ears drown out the life of the outside world. 

Affixed to your spot for seemingly perpetual hours, you begin to wonder who could slay the immortal being on BOT Street? 

“...that’s Y/N.

“Isn’t that it?”

“It looks just like the picture.”

“I feel bad for them but I also kind of hate them. Must feel bad for being the last resort. I wonder why he picked her.”

A group of whom you could only presume to be fans had gathered outside the company, forming a line across the entrance to the sidewalk where a lavish black van parked. They whisper amongst themselves, discerning over the subject matter that receives nothing but disgust, as if the subject were a beast in itself. 

“Oh my God! Look, they’re coming out!” 

The entire swarm of girls turn in one swift, synchronized motion before their screams were all that were heard within the proximity of a dozen blocks. Seven boys exit the entrance, face much more covered than this morning which seems like an eternity ago. One by one, you gradually catch your eyes hunting for one particular man…

...but when you finally find him, all air escapes your lungs and somehow you’ve forgotten how to breathe. 

You want to hide. You’re ashamed. You’re pitiful. You’re everything that Yoongi did not fall for and you would do anything for him to immortalize that perfect image of you that he did come to love and know. He can’t see you like this in your lowest state.

Security guards begin ushering the encroaching crowd back into the already tightening circumference of a bubble as the boys make their way through the narrowed pathway. Cameras were flashing in every direction, questions were being yelled and unanswered into the air, and fans were crying out their woes to the sudden news of Yoongi’s supposed affair. Pulling the collars of your coat over the lower half of your face, you continue to observe from afar, careful to conceal your identity from further instigating trouble for the boys.

One by one, you watch as they board their ride. One by one, you let out a sigh of relief when they fail to recognize you amongst the crowd of swarming fans. Alas, it doesn’t take very long for you to notice the last member to board the van. You’ve gotten to know every habit of Yoongi’s over the course of your relationship to know that he has never been the type to stall. In fact, he’s never been the last one of the group in anything, especially in public; but when his eyes skim through the crowd and cross yours for a brief moment before returning to lock eyes with the woman he had caught, you—fully dressed, covered, and aloof in the corner—stand there stunned, a chill running down your back. 

He recognizes you even in a mass of hundreds. 

Even the most brief of hesitance incites confusion from the crowd, for some of them recall your presence and begin to turn toward the direction of his gaze. 

“I forgot that she was here.”

“What is she still doing here?”

“Is that her? Are they still dating?” 

Panic settles into your pumping veins as you try to conceal your identity even further when, suddenly, Yoongi curses loudly—a habit you’ve come to adore, but a habit he has made a conscious effort to keep hidden from the public. 

With the order of a simple word, he manages to recapture the attention of the crowd. 

“Suga! Did you hurt yourself?!”

“Please be careful!” 

“I will protect you no matter what!” 

“I love you more than anything!”

It would be ignorant of anyone to deny that he had every individual wrapped around his finger, including you, for silence ensued from the previously mass hysteria when he feigns a trip and a few stumbles toward the van, whirls around, and clears his throat. 

“I’ll be alright, guys,” he raises his hand to rest the impending screams. “Just make sure to take care of yourself and love yourself first before you try and help others, okay?”

Maybe it’s just you and every other person in this crowd, but it’s almost as if he’s speaking to you.

Would it be foolish of you to think so? To hope so?

You had thought your breakup with Yoongi earlier in the morning would have been the last you would see of him. The chaos that ensued, your mental breakdown, Solji’s disappointment, and Xiao Lin’s scolding left you all alone. You thought Xiao Lin would be the least to abandon you. It doesn’t occur to you until this very moment, as he gazes at you with those doting, bittersweet eyes of his for the shortest of seconds before he speaks and boards the van, that you realize...

“I’ll miss you.” 

...he’s the last one to abandon you.

-

i say semi because this isn’t my last announcement and it doesn’t explain the reasons as to why i’m “leaving.” 

yes, as you’ve probably seen from all the messages scattered throughout my blog, i am indeed ink nemesis. i need a mental break to reflect on everything i’ve done. I’m sorry for disappointing you. i plan to take a break, a leave, whatever the future entails for it to be from here. the decision was cemented just a few days ago, but the thought was one that plagued me for many months on end. 

due to the possibility of plagiarism while i’m gone or less active to remain vigilant over my works, i’ve taken down all of the fics i have on my masterlist. i apologize if there were any works you wanted to reread or works that you’ve been wanting to read but never got to. it truly bums me out that i have to be wary of plagiarists and ruin the fun for you guys. 

as of this moment, i plan on taking a temporary semi-hiatus from this blog. i will still be here to answer messages, maybe drop a few random posts about my life, possibly even drop a few random fics (probably my usual crack/fluff drabbles) here and there, but i probably won’t be doing much other than responding to messages. 

bygones of the sun will be completed, but i’m setting it aside for now until inspiration sparks some motivation in me. i want to write for me, for those who see me as a human being who happens to write for fun, and i want to find the love i once had for this niche of mine. if inspiration strikes me in the middle of my hiatus, then so be it! an update will be dropped sporadically if that were to happen, so what a nice bonus for those who decide to stay, eh? 

i will, however, be completing my last series before my hiatus officially begins. the reasons for my departure will all be laid out there in full detail. so for those of you interested in that, see you then.

and for those who aren’t, thank you for staying up ‘til now. i hope to things to return to the way things were, even if it’s foolish for me to hope so. i will try once again to find the path that allows my ink to do all that is good. 

signing out for one last time, xoxo ink nemesis.

[Posted 11:35 AM]

Papers flipping under the mercy of its filer, journalists scribbling viciously against its pitiful victims that is paper, and printers reviving with a huff only to be used to its death once again, cabinets squeaking open in pain, whispers in the breakroom now gossiping over your recent dismissal at work, and the mocking tick of the clock that takes you back to a time you had thought would have been your worst case scenario—if only the past you could have seen the substantially worse circumstances you have to face now. 

It’s funny how things work out sometimes. Your writing blog, the one world of solace you thought could eternally replace reality, has somehow become the very source of sorrow and self-hate in the recent months. You thought the world would end if you were to disconnect from your one passion in life; and yet, here you are: alive, breathing, seeing, hearing, and lifted from the burden of a mere site, all from the simple click of a button.

There it is. The truth is out there in the world for everyone to see. The identity of Ink Nemesis has been unveiled and you could no longer hide behind the mask of a pen name. To ruin your reputation and destroy the blog you had so tirelessly worked hours on end to build was the last action you wanted to take; but if this could somewhat atone for the troubles you’ve brought upon your loved ones, then it was a necessary one. 

Heaving a loud sigh, you lay your head back into your chair, eyes staring straight up at the mundane gray ceiling lined by cold white lights and feet swiping across the floor to swivel you in an endless cycle around and around the comforts of your soon-to-be empty cubicle. 

The SS is discontinued and your own writing blog is down. Now, truly and surely, it’s just you.

And for now?

That’s enough. 

Boxes in hand filled with piles of scribbled paper, stacks of pens emptied of ink, and countess drafts of works that would never see the light of day, you hustle to the elevator and out the door of a company you had grown to love yet hate in the past years. You paid no attention to the whispers and glares of your colleagues. You were used to that at this point. 

After severing the trust of the only person who could truly understand you in this universe, who could hurt you worse than yourself? 

Perhaps it’s the reality of being fired that’s finally settling in, but the winter chill hits you harsher than it ever has before. Your hair momentarily shrouds your view of the bustling streets as the wind pays you a brief albeit impactful visit. As your locks return to settle into place, a freezing droplet of water drips onto the tip of your nose as if to beckon for your gaze upward. 

Tilting your head back and craning your neck for a full, uncloaked display of the sky’s vast expanses, the universe’s gray puffs echo your latest sentiment. 

Ah, so even the sky can hear your cries of pain? 

One drip, two drip. The sky cries along with you. 

Three drip, four drip. You can’t even decipher between its cold tears and the warmth of your own. 

The drizzling quickens its pace into an endless stream of droplets that rain upon you like a shower head cleansing you of dirt. Your shoes fill with water and your skin shivers in the waves of an ocean that never ceases to end. 

Updates. Hatred. Expectations. Obligations. Work. Yoongi. Love. Friends. Solji. Xiao Lin. Yourself. 

Drip by drip, a burdensome weight melts from your shoulder and flows into the drains of the city sewer; because when you finally return home, toss your purse onto your bed, and glimpse into the mirror, you meet a pleasant surprise of a friend whom you had falsely presumed to have long bidden farewell to. 

With a wet collared white shirt stuck to reveal the flesh of your skin, hair dripping in the wake of the sky’s calling, and mascara running down your flushed cheeks, you smile because at long last...

you are finally clean.

[enigmatist17]

Longing (Rhys Strongfork x Vaughn)

I really really love Rhys and Vaughn.

I was really really happy to see them in Borderlands 3.

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

Vaughn had been having a nice day. The Calypso Twins had been killed a few weeks ago, and the universe seemed to finally be lulling back to its old self. Pandora was only full of Crimson Raiders and the slowly dwindling COV, the lack of bandits almost startling to the planet. He couldn’t remember the last time random packs of bandits were just running around, shouting about blood and skulls. No, Pandora seemed to finally have tipped the change from bloodthirsty bandits, to a potential planet ready to build an actual society. 

The change almost was saddening to see.

Yet again, a life Vaughn had tried to make for himself was slipping from his fingers. He was a lonely bandit in the wastes again, and this time he wasn’t sure if he could change again. Hyperion and that oppressive corporate atmosphere had nearly smothered him, Vaughn wasn’t going to go through that again. No, he was confident in himself and able to tear a person apart for trying to ever imply as such. Paperwork, meetings, and selecting who to tear down just for a step up just made the bandit chief feel ill. He had gone for a walk and now regretted it as an Atlas ship landed nearby. Vaughn could have sworn that Atlas had been some third-rate corporation, not able to afford the armor and spectacular guns those unloading from the transport seemed to have. Then again, his news was seven years out of date, so anything could have happened during his tenure on Pandora he supposed. 

The man stepping out, dressed in a suit and sporting a blood-red cybernetic arm, brought any train of thought Vaughn had at the moment to a rather spectacular crash.

There was no way that was Rhys Strongfork, there is no fucking way. Still crouched behind some rocks, Vaughn watches as Rhys puts his hands on his hips, saying something to a soldier with a grin. The last seven years had been very kind to Rhys, Vaughn feeling suddenly very aware he was only in his underwear and cape. It usually didn’t bother him, but seeing the tailored suit and blood-free face of his former friend just made Vaughn feel subpar. Once again his thoughts were scattered when some skags, previously going about their business, seemed to find the Atlas troops worthy of dinner. At first, he just watched as they easily dispatched the animals with ease, but quickly moved when one snuck up and made an advance at Rhys. The businessman only had a gun partially withdrawn before the skag seemed to just explode, raining misty blood down over him. Glancing over, Rhys forgot about the bodily fluids all over his suit as he took in the man who was reloading his gun. Despite the blood, grime, and bushy beard that could use decent grooming, the man standing feet away was all too familiar to Rhys.

“Vaughn?!” The bandit looks up, locking eyes with Rhys before a huge grin stretches across his face. The CEO is taken up into strong arms a moment later, pressed against a toned body that he only dreamed of late at night. 

“Rhys! You’re alive bro!” Vaughn laughed, squeezing his friend tight before releasing him. Rhys looks as he always has, a bit bewildered and adorably confused, steadying himself by using Vaughn as support. 

“I-I can’t believe it!” Rhys looks absolutely delighted, taking in his oldest and dearest friend. Seven years had seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and for Vaughn, it had changed him so much. He had seemingly thrived as a bandit chief, no hint of nervousness nor social awkwardness that Vaughn had had their entire friendship. The bandit just grinned away, shifting into a fighting stance when the Atlas soldiers raised their guns.

“No no! No, he’s a friend.” It was strange seeing someone stepping in front of Vaughn, Rhys clearly not thinking much of the protective stance as much as Vaughn did. The guns were lowered without hesitation, and Rhys turned with a cheeky expression. “Say, know any good coffee shops?” Vaughn can’t help but laugh, Rhys letting out a distressed cry to learn that coffee was rare to come by on Pandora. Thankfully, Sanctuary III was able to supply some through Rhys' stay, and Vaughn finds himself hooked back on the liquid by day 2. The two are usually in a booth laughing about something, looking so strange a pair, yet these days hardly anyone batted an eye. Atlas had promised to help rebuild sections of Pandora that had been destroyed by the CoV, and the task that had once been almost monumental to Rhys suddenly felt so easy. Vaughn was able to get people to work at ease, Rhys sometimes watching with a slightly envious look. Despite leading Atlas, he still suffered from his own lack of self-worth and envied how confident Vaughn was. Soon the few months Rhys had come to stay were coming to an end, and both men felt some tension in the air.

Rhys, bless his heart, is the one to ask Vaughn to come with him.

The bandit gives him a disbelieving look, wondering if it was some sort of strange joke. The company life had been left far behind, but it was back and asking him to come into the fold. Rhys waves away concerns when Vaughn asks about investors, pacing back and forth. They were both currently in the remains of his old Sun Smashers camp, Rhys having asked to see it before finally spitting out his question. He sat on the dirty bed, watching as Vaughn switched between disbelief and uncertainty. Seeing Vaughn so unsettled reminded him of their days in college and Hyperion, and for once Rhys decides that maybe he should finally do something. Standing up unnoticed, Rhys waits until he can slip in front of Vaughn, words dying on the bandit's lips when a cool metal hand caresses his face.

“I want you to come with me, I don’t want to leave you again.” He usually isn’t good at this sort of thing, but at this moment he couldn’t have been any more sure of anything in his life. Vaughn doesn’t say anything, just looking into Rhys’ eyes as if searching for deception. He seems to find what he was looking for, and before Rhys can blink, cracked and dry lips are on his own. His brain just seems to short circuit, and as fast as his bravado had swelled, Rhys just felt so lost as Vaughn kissed him soundly. He’s got the sappiest grin on his face when Vaughn takes pity, looking very amused.

“Sure you don’t mind a bandit coming back with you?” He isn’t sure what potential investors would think, but Rhys is nodding before his thought is even out of the gate.

“Of course! You’re my closest and dearest bro, and I know that you can pull your weight if need be.” Rhys flashes a dazzling smile, and Vaughn finds himself accepting the offer. He leaves Pandora with a bandit’s goodbye, pouring some blood from a skull before joining an intrigued Rhys on his private ship. It felt like a lifetime ago since he had been off-planet sans Sanctuary III, and he’s quiet as the planet fades from view. He would feel sad, but hearing an excited Rhys pouring over some sort of blueprint behind him only makes the bandit smile. He spends most of the journey to Promethea sleeping, feeling the nervous energy he used to ooze back in his Hyperion days coiling in his gut. Would he be good enough? He hadn’t done any sort of “work” in over seven years, would he even remember how to?

The building they land on is huge, the dazzling city almost too much for Vaughn. The neon glow and varying robots carrying out repairs stretch into the distance, and he is shaken from his observation by an arm slipping around his waist. Rhys is smiling down at him, that sweet and goofy smile that just makes any of Vaughn’s worries fade away. The gigantic building they enter doesn’t feel cold and stifling, instead, it’s inviting, workers waving to Rhys all with smiles. Of course, there are strange looks at the man wearing nothing but boots, underwear, and a tattered cape, but they never linger for long. Rhys’ office makes Vaughn laugh, seeing the aquarium reaching up to the ceiling like they had discussed over last night studying long ago.

“What?” Rhys tilts his head slightly, and Vaughn just gives him a grin.

“You remembered the aquarium, of course, you did.” Rhys just grins, and Vaughn flops down onto the couch. It was so strange to be inside an intact building that was well maintained, unable to smell anything less than what appeared to be coffee and whatever Rhys liked in the air. Was it vanilla? Vaughn couldn’t remember what vanilla even smelled like, watching from the corner of his eye as Rhys caught up with some emails. The way the CEO sticks his tongue out slightly while scanning through dozens upon dozens of threads just reminds Vaughn of their happier days at Hyperion. There weren’t many of them, but the late nights crafting their plan back then, usually spent in their cramped office laughing over takeout never failed to make Vaughn smile. Zer0 comes in to find the bandit passed out on the couch an hour later, Rhys having moved to be by the other. The man is sitting on the floor, legs crossed as he leans back against the couch. His cybernetic arm is displaying some sort of hologram, and his normal hand is enclosed in Vaughn’s closest hand. Rhys has a content smile on his face, the assassin noting this was the first time he had ever seen Rhys so at ease. Zer0 takes the hint and slips out of the room as silently as he had arrived, and locks the door behind him just in case.

[sumeshi-t]

hinata shoyou x reader | hanahaki x reincarnation au; a chaotic mix of fluff, crack, and angst.

song: lifetime by ben&ben

beta-ed by @bubbleteaa​ and @taeiliee ​ iloveyou both always <3

i. 》 ii.》 iii.

*:･ﾟ✧ “Glimpse of me and you—oh, you were a good dream,”  ✧･ﾟ: *

“LN Group’s Heir, getting close and personal with volleyball rookie?”

The headline was on the news, accompanied by blurred photos of you and Hinata together after his games, or of you two leaving the same car entering the same restaurant. Currently, you were sitting behind a large desk in your office, leaning comfortably against the leather, having your morning coffee.

“Director,” your secretary began, perhaps about to ask you for your next step.

“Let the media talk. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind me dating someone months after mourning?” you answered nonchalantly, savoring the bittersweet taste on your tongue.

“But what about… the suitors, FCU Corp’s—”

“This conversation is over. I don’t want to waste my time over the boring sons of CEOs. They cut ties with me and they lose everything they have. Understood?” you don’t spare your secretary a glance as you dismissed him, before proceeding to look through the stack of documents on your desk.

You would occasionally cough as you worked, but not to the point wherein you can’t handle being in a conference. Your condition hasn’t been better, for what once were just coins, were now being accompanied by bills. You decide to collect the money that you vomit out, at least put the ill-gotten fortune to good use by donating to charity or using it for tips.

Soon as you signed the last project proposal, your phone vibrates against the glass of your table. You peek, and you wondered if it was the coffee that made your heart skip a beat. You put your pen down first, then, slowly reply, “Can I call?”

“…sure,”

One, two, five rings later, Kenma picks up.

“So… you’ve heard the news,” you speak first, twirling your seat to face the glass walls overlooking the city.

“Yeah… I thought you were just sponsoring Hinata,” you hear the sound of a game in the background as you waited to see if he was going to continue. You felt somehow disappointed when that was all he said. 

Did he believe the news? Was he jealous? Why was he concerned? Your brain was screaming these questions but all you gave him was silence. And this, he notices; so he replies, “Well, if it’s true, just… don’t mess up I guess.” 

This wasn’t the response you wanted but it was better than nothing. With that thought, you sighed, finally regaining control of yourself. “Hopefully, I won’t. Have you asked Hinata-san about it?”

“Hm? Not really,” a pause and then, a soft chuckle. “For someone dating, you’re still so formal. But I guess that’s just how you are, y/n.”

Soon after that, Kenma drops the call to resume his own schedule.

Your face was flushed from how soft you felt inside. Not only did you get to hear Kenma’s little laugh, but perhaps this development was one step to reaching your goal. You immediately text Hinata about this milestone you’ve attained, before going back to work.

A few hours later, around half-past four in the afternoon, you received a text message and all you could do was gasp.

“I’m near the café, y/n-san! See you!”

It was Hinata. And you were confused why he would tell you that, until you scrolled up a little and saw that text you sent from that same morning: “Hinata-kun! I think it’s working, let’s meet at the usual and celebrate!”

Since when… did you type that? You only planned to tell him about the phone call. Well, you could also just cancel, say that you’re working overtime after a five-hour meeting. It was an easy excuse, an easy way out of this mess you didn’t seem to remember doing. However, as your thumb hovers over the send button, you feel your breath shorten, brows furrowing, and with a sigh you drop your phone on the table.

“Alright, I’ll see you there,” sent.

You quickly finish up your work for the day: reviewing your own schedule for tomorrow, making one last trip to one of the director’s involved in tomorrow’s meeting, and giving your secretary any last reminders or errands.

You drove your way to the antique café—the amount of times you’ve done so made it feel like a routine for you. This was your favorite place; you basically knew the owners already. But lately, it seems as though you had something, someone to look forward to. You feel your lungs constrict, seeing an image of Hinata’s face in your head—you thought you were about to spit out another set of bills and coins, but you didn’t. It was a good thing you were at a stoplight, or else you’d have stepped on the brake in the middle of an intersection.

As you crossed the street and arrived at your destination, you couldn’t help the feeling that in some way, you were still stuck in that intersection. Was this the right way? Should you have taken a U-turn at a different street? But then, brakes existed. You remember you have brakes; so you can always stop and go back anytime you feel lost.

For now, you choose to wander the winding road and see where it takes you.

The chimes ring softly as the door hits against them when you enter.

Your eyes scan the place, and yet can’t seem to find the guy you were looking for. You whip out your phone, already mid-text when a paper plane flies idly and drops by your feet, getting caught in your periphery.

Putting your phone back in your pocket, you bend down to pick the paper plane up. You didn’t even see the direction where the plane came from, and curiosity was getting the best of you. You flip one of the folds, unraveling the tiny origami in your delicate hands.

“Coffee?” The word, rather, invitation was scribbled in a mediocre way—definitely written by a man trying to pick up girls in poor taste. You looked around you again and spotted a cute girl just near you. So, you check the note once more, and notice how awfully familiar the strokes of every letter were.

You blinked once, twice, and, somehow kept seeing images from a time so long ago; you don’t remember this happening before so how do you have memories of this certain encounter? You feel your head pounding, heart racing, as your legs took you to the source of it all, hiding behind the counter.

“Hinata-kun,” ah, what’s this, why were you smiling?

The ginger male smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head as he faced you with cheeks blushed. The staff simply watched on, with amused snickers and teasing looks on their faces.

You hand him the note with a raised brow, “You missed,” you say as you nod your head towards the girl you saw earlier. Hinata chuckles, and the sound seems awfully familiar, in this awfully familiar place and moment; it felt so right, so fitting—

It feels like finally coming home.

“N-Not really,” he stutters, before handing you your porcelain mug, the mug you always used, with tiny little flowers you yourself hand-painted. The smell of freshly brewed coffee reached your nose, and as your hands touched when you were taking the mug from him, you feel a surge of warmth that no coffee you’ve had before has given you.

You gasp when you look into his eyes, and all you could see was how his lips moved when he nibbled on them, how his hair was ruffled, how his nose wrinkled at the end of his sentence. You’ve seen all of this before that you knew what he was going to say.

“I don’t drink coffee, but if it’s with you I don’t mind!”

“You don’t drink coffee, but if it’s with me you won’t mind,”

The two of you say at the same time, and you had to blink twice—you could have sworn you just saw him wearing a checkered top over baggy jeans. His laugh was first to break the tension between you, and you managed to calm down a bit, especially at seeing him in his jersey jacket again.

Hinata looks more amazed than surprised at what just happened, eyes wide in fascination at his deduction— “y/n-san, is that part of your, er, sickness? Because if it is, that’s so cool!”

You also wanted to ask yourself that. The book your predecessors made never mentioned anything about these dreadfully clear episodes of déjà vu. His question was left unanswered, as the old gramps, the owner of the café, went out of the kitchen to thank Hinata for his help, and to tell you two to get to your table already.

For the rest of your date, you try to get your mind off the memory—the memory of Hinata Shoyou that wasn’t yours but seemed like they were.

Wait… date?

“I’ll do even better, y/n-san! If… if you like, you can watch the next practice match and we can… go on an obvious date again! Oh! Kenma is a Youtuber too right? What if… we…?”

Ah, that’s right. There was no need to fret. Hinata Shoyou is your “boyfriend” after all. It was right to call it a date. So were all your previous meet-ups considered a date? You’ve never been to one before, so how would you know?

You couldn’t focus on anything but on the way Hinata made you feel both on edge and at peace. Perhaps, it was the coffee; you’re drinking too much lately that’s why you’re so easily flustered. Blame the caffeine. Blame the caffeine. It’s just the caffeine in your veins—

“That’s genius! I’m in! Besides, I can promote projects that way too; kids these days like that, gossip, and advocacies,” you end with a chuckle, before taking a fork to stab at the slice of your favorite cake.

Hinata’s smile softened, and he released a silent chuckle, just looking at you from across the table. The yellow dim light casted shadows over the curves of your face, highlighting your best features. In his eyes, you will always be a porcelain doll, fragile and precious, which he vowed to protect with his own heart even if he knows you wouldn’t accept it—accept him.

“y/n… you should smile more,” his usual energetic tone was gone. He said it so gently, sweetly, sincerely—you might as well follow his words and believe the next, “You look better when you do,” he grins at you before drinking his own more-milk-than-actual-coffee. 

He still has more things to say, and honestly, even if he was happy being with you, he couldn’t help but worry about himself. A part of him wishes that Kenma would just finally reciprocate your love, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could have full control over his own emotions.

But the thought of that puts him in pain brought about by sadness —he surely didn’t want to lose Kenma but Hinata knows he couldn’t bear life if he was to lose you too.

The two of you spent the rest of the night chattering over your upcoming plan of creating your own little couple vlog, all the while your minds and hearts were both beginning to sway uneasily, without even knowing you two were starting to test new waters.

As you laid in bed that night, you were more preoccupied by the date and the images that flashed before you, than at the slim possibilities of Kozume Kenma being jealous.

You didn’t seem to notice that, for the first time in months, money and blood never slipped out your lips and you were able to enjoy an uninterrupted sleep.

That night, you were able to dream. But the subject of your dreams wasn’t the man you were truly dreaming for when you were awake. Even in your subconscious, Hinata Shoyou managed to infect his way through, he was like a new disease that has just started to grow. He was a disease that you peculiarly welcomed into your life, without knowing at the time that he could possibly be the cure.

Just like on that date, you keep seeing him from a timeline wherein you weren’t alive. The most confusing part was how you were still able to see you. And that you were the one talking to him. Distant memories of old, it was similar to skimming through an antique cinematic clip of a romcom—

“I’m sorry, y/n-san… I can’t,”

“Are you telling me that it’s my fault for falling for you, Shoyou?”

“But there’s already someone else,”

“And you’re loved in return?” you feel the urge to puke when Hinata Shoyou turns his back and walks away without an answer to satisfy you. It was too painful, your chest tightened, eyes red from held back tears, and soon, there were drops of blood on the floor below you, with coins following soon after.

You retch blood and coins all over your sheets, at five in the morning. This was the fifth time you’ve seen that dream turned nightmare and you didn’t know which haunted you more: was it a premonition or was it nothing but a reminder?

As the maid cleaned your sheets for you, you take note of how you’ve reverted back to vomiting nothing but a few measly coins. Perhaps you were getting better. But then, why has Kenma not told you anything that would hint you of his feelings? Was it because you were with Hinata? Was it time to finally end things with the ginger-haired man?

This is what you were aiming for… right?

Suddenly, you weren’t so sure.

cheese cult: @akaashichigo @drainedjaz @haikkeiji @annalyn-annalyn @sosugasweet @cali-writes-sometimes @simping4ratsumu @shishinoya @ushiwakaa @akaashit-baeji @kxgeyamasmilk @agaassi ​ @hanibuni ​ @cupofkenma ​ @kawanisshi ​ @milkandc00kiez ​ @thiccbokuto ​ @shinsukestan ​ @sufiawrites ​ @wakaitoshi ​ @skyguy-peach ​ @fern-writes-ig ​ @briswriting ​ @kawaiikraykray ​ @bubbleteaa ​ @miyuswriting ​ @raevaioli ​ @ouikarwa ​ @hakueishirei ​ @pineapplekween ​ @estherwritess ​ @keiji-n ​ @achoohq ​ @badlywritten-hq ​ @mochibeaa @oinkanna ​ @chxrry-wxne ​ @spudicide ​ @airybby ​ @asranomical ​ @karmasuna ​ @nekoglasses ​

gen. taglist: @yams046 ​

[reddogf13]

Escape: Aftermath Ch: 5

Waylon X Eddie

Summery: After escaping the hell that is mount massive, Eddie and Waylon had been patching them self's to fix the damage. Murkoff however is not willing to release patients that easy. A new Murkoff CEO is hell bent on getting their two experiments back.

status: complete

rated: M - fowl language, sensitive topics, and gore

previous chap: Escape: Aftermath CH: 4

next chap: Escape: Aftermath CH: 6

_____________________________________

~Ch: 5 Shattered bones~

Barker was messing with another familiar jar on his desk. He read the name on the yellowed label, remembering who’s skull they were taken from. His wide grin dropped to a scowl when someone entered his office.

“what?!” Barker snapped, startling the person entering.

“w-we got news that they were seen walking around town.” the man said nervously.

“and?!” he snapped again. He wanted to get to the point. Did they know there location or not?

“we're still looking for them.” the man said. Barker silently opened a drawer with a gun. He was sick of time wasters and maybe this would make them think before entering. “we found out who they are. A Waylon park, who used to work for us, and Eddie Gluskin, a long time patient.” the man said, unaware of barkers actions.

“Gluskin?” Barker said, his interest grabbed. He slammed the drawer closed, having the man jump from the bang. “i recognize that name.” Barker grinned as he stood from his seat.

“ came to us 10 years ago, caught in a town. Known for kidnapping girls. He Killed 23 victims before he was caught. Difficult to catch, kept moving around. I read his file before, the towns people were all very concerned for where he was going. Lots of meetings, and court dates with arguments of him going here or there. They wanted him to be as far away as possible. Murkoff wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip by.” Barker said amused as he walked to a wall covered in file cabinets.

“so we happily offered to take him under the guise of the head of mount massive. we discreetly told the town we were in the deep cold mountains. Far away from any town and being heavily locked down. That’s all they needed to hear from us, happily giving him away. Not even bothering to find out more.” Barker said as he pulled out a certain file.

“there was one person though. I think he sensed we were up to no good. He kept coming in, asking questions about why we wanted Gluskin so badly. Wanting tours of our facility and to see papers of our staff. The nerve of him, he was so rude and nosy. We couldn’t get rid of him though. after all, he was the one who caught Gluskin. He was a town hero, a sudden disappearance wouldn’t do well. So the next time he visited we had … “problems”, with our facility.” Barker spoke with a annoyed tone.

“he seemed to be less fond of me after that. Demanding to speak with the head of mount massive. He only knew me as the “head doctor” of mount massive during that time. After shooing him off we gave him a message. It wasn’t a very polite message, but he stopped prying into our business.” Barker said as he looked through the file. He pulled out a old looking business card.

“iam sure Gluskin would love to meet his old friend.” Barker grinned, looking at the name Artisan Schep centered on the card. He began dialing the numberto set a meeting.

*later*

“glad you could come artisan.” Barker grinned at the man sitting at the other side of his desk. Artisan was wearing beat up old blue jeans with black boots. His shirt a dark grey, mostly covered by a beat up dark green jacket with pockets on the front. Some spots were stitched on the jacket from long ago cuts and tears. His hair was brown with a line of grey slightly showing at the front corner of his fore head. He had a few small scars on his face and dark blue hazel eyes.

Artisan was taping his fingers on the desk. He was glaring at the man before him, not at all happy for being called here. He didn’t know why he was called. He hadn’t seen this man in years. Going from a head doctor to a CEO of some company. None of that sat right with him. He knew something was disgustingly off about this company and mount massive. That’s why he kept wanting to get in.

“weren’t you a doctor?” artisan questions with a raised eye brow. He faked a pleasant tone, although his eyes were still glaring.

“i was, but I didn’t want to do that forever.” Barker grinned.

“ so why the hell am I here? Going to finally give me a tour of mount massive. After that in detail letter claiming “harassment” over me interfering with your “doctoring” I thought you’d never want to see me.” artisan said in a aggravated tone.

Thats what stopped him from investigating mount massive and Murkoff. A letter claiming he was harassing the company, saying that it began interfering with they're “charity” work and patient “treatment”. It was sent to the mayor, and artisan had to back off or lose his job. No one cared for Murkoff or mount massive, so no one was willing to back him up against the paper.

“ Gluskin has gotten out.” Barker said bluntly. Artisan choked on his spit, starting a couching fit. He stood up in anger, catching his breath.

“YOU LET HIM OUT??!!” artisan yelled, looking furiously at Barker.

“no, no. there was a riot and he escaped in the chaos.” Barker smiled, talking casually as if it were a everyday thing. It almost was, but artisan didn’t know that.

“god dammit!! do you fucking know where he is?! Has he done anything?!” artisan growled, beginning to pace.

“hes hiding in a near by town, from what we know. He also has a friend with him. A man who used to work with us, but had to be committed for violent actions against coworkers.” Barker explained. Violence against coworkers aka actions against Murkoff.

“he doesn’t make friends, if he ever did, they didn’t last longer then a few hours.” artisan said, confused and suspicious of that. He followed Eddie for months. It didn’t sound anything like Eddie to have a friend. Especially one that was alive.

“well his friend is very smart. Easily manipulates people, don’t listen to anything he says. He'll try to convince you hes harmless, then he will stab you in the back.” Barker grinned.

“fucking hell. I need to gather up a squad. Call some people, make reports.” artisan said, rubbing his face.

“oh, you don’t need to worry about that. We have a squad for you. You just have to hunt down Gluskin and they'll kill him for you.” Barker said.

“iam not going to kill anyone. Hes done horrible things, but iam not just going to murder someone unless I absolutely have no choice.” artisan said. Barkers grin turned into a frown at that news. Before artisan could turn to see it, Barker changed it back to a smile.

“i can understand that. You are a good man. Just find Gluskin and his friend, bring them back and we'll take care of them.” Barker grinned.

“how exactly did they get out of your “highly secured facility”.” artisan quoted him from long ago.

“ I told you. During a riot.” Barker said blandly.

“and how did the riot happen?” artisan glared. Barker stared at him calmly.

“it doesn’t matter. Things were taken care of.” Barker said in a plain tone.

“your facility isn’t very secure.” artisan stared back.

“even Alcatraz had a few escapees.” Barker grinned at him. Artisan looked at him unamused.

“ so I assume you got me for this because I caught Gluskin long ago, correct?” artisan asked.

“of course. Why would we get someone else?” Barker smiled.

“well, I chased him for months. he always moves around, making him hard to pin point. Do you have any leads where in town he could be?” artisan asked.

“no, they’ve done a pretty good job of avoiding us. And people refuse to speak with us about them.” Barker explained.

“i wonder why.” artisan thought sarcastic. To him, Barker was as trust able as a shark in a swimming pool.

“probably because they were threatened by them.” Barker said.

“maybe … ill go to the town and speak with the team. See what they say on the situation.” artisan said, beginning to leave.

“i hope to see you back soon.” Barker said in a pleasant tone that made artisan just want to punch him.

 *meanwhile*

Waylon was kept in the bathroom again. Once morning hit, him and Eddie were going to leave no matter what. Everything looked bad for Waylon. His fever was gone, but he still suffered from voices. Eddie was mad at him for things he never meant to do. Or never did, like faking his illness. They were going to move and that settled badly in the pit of Waylons stomach.

Murkoff had not made much of a move. Only setting up road blocks. They haven’t searched buildings yet harmed or threatened anyone. as far as he knew. Then again, they were probably just being more discreet. They didn’t want all this getting to the news. Threatening people would bring up a panic in others. People would run away and word would spread.

With that thought, Waylon still felt something looming over them. A dark cloud of misfortune just waiting to hit with a hurricane. He definitely didn’t want to leave now, but that could be just him. He was always afraid to go out and pass people. Being forced into leaving the only safe house he knows. And not knowing where they’ll end up added a extra layer of anxiety.

He started looking back on all the different decision they could have made. They could have not stopped in this town. Could have kept to the woods. Could have continued past this town to another. They were in bad shape when they arrived though. They had to break into the motel, or face pneumonia. Or possibly infections of all kinds and disease like rabies from wild animals.

He probably got his fever from the pouring rain and stress. It was a matter of time before he got sick from something. He started looking around the bathroom walls, being board. He stopped and stared at one small dark spot in the ceiling corner over the shower.

He stared at it, leaning towards it in confusion when he thought it was beginning to grow. His eyes widened at seeing long black shadow spider legs grow from the dark spot. He stared at it a moment longer, watching the spot grow from the size of a dime to the size of a plate. He got up and backed away to the door, watching a large spider dripping black ink crawl out of the darkness.

It opened its multiple eyes, shining a bright red at Waylon. It let out a large gurgling hiss as it clawed to get out of the darkness, like it was stuck. By the time it was half way out Waylon started banging on the door.

“ EDDIE!! LET ME OUT!!! EDDIE!!” Waylon yelled, getting ready to just bust down the door himself. The spider was almost entirely out when the door opened. Waylon bolted out a few feet, getting stopped by Eddie grabbing him.

“what is it now??!!” Eddie questioned. Waylon was shaking and hyperventilating. He looked back into the bathroom for the spider, finding no sign of it.

“huge spider.” Waylon said a little shaky.

“ a spider?” Eddie questioned in a mocking tone.

“it was a massive shadow spider that dripped ink.” Waylon snapped.

“iam sure it was.” Eddie mocked again. Waylon angrily grumbled about seeing it and it wasn’t a tiny spider. Eddie left him by the bathroom door, getting some canned food to make into dinner. Waylon went over and laid quietly on the bed. As Eddie started to heat up the food, Waylon began asking questions.

“where will we be heading?” Waylon asked. Hed like to be aware of at least which direction they’ll be heading in.

“heading towards the northern part of town to the lake. Unused log cabins over there. Most likely to be looked over by Murkoff since there a little away from town in the forest. Just need to stick to the woods and cross over a bridge. A little more walking through the forest and we'll be there by afternoon.” Eddie said, as he watched the microwave.

“are the cabins rotten?” Waylon asked.

“some will be. Others can be fine.” Eddie said.

“i rather not get one with a hole in the roof.” Waylon mumbled.

“i cant promise that.” Eddie said, taking out the food. He handed Waylon a paper bowl of SpaghettiOs. Waylon looked down at it, feeling mild sadness when he remembered feeding his boys this stuff.

“ … if Lisa saw me now … would she be happy with me being with Eddie? Or would she advise me to run?” Waylon thought, staring at the noodles.

“you should eat those.” Eddie said, breaking his thought. Waylon nodded, forcing himself to start eating. He would need a full stomach for this trip. He had been feeling exhausted, unable to sleep for more then 5 minutes. Nightmares plagued his dreams, barely remembering them when waking up terrified. The feeling of suffocation attacking him after trying to breath.

He stared into the empty bowl when he finished. He looked up towards the bathroom door, sighing as he felt sickness. He didn’t want to try and sleep in there again. He knew he would be unable to. He looked over his shoulder at Eddie. He watched him pack stuff into they're bag. He took a deep breath before talking.

“Eddie, can I sleep with you?” Waylon asked quietly. Eddie paused, thinking for a moment.

“alright, but if you see something. Wake me before you do anything.” Eddie said, continuing to pack. Waylon nodded, feeling some relief. At least with Eddie, he felt secure that Eddie will know when somethings near. Knowing when its a actual threat vs just a hallucination. He yawned, the exhaustion feeling heavier on him.

He laid down on the bed, covering himself with a blanket. He hid his face in one of the pillows, and covered his head with the blanket. He just wanted sleep and didn’t even want to see the light of the room. After hiding himself away in the bed, did he realize how exhausted his body really felt. Everything was sore, weak, and felt sick.

He let out a groan mixed with sickness and exhaustion. He really didn’t want to leave feeling like this. He hoped that by morning he would have slept well enough to be a little better. He felt a hand rub up his back, then felt a body lay over his. He let out a deep breath, his body relaxing as Eddie joined him in bed.

Eddie tangled Waylon in his arms like he always did, earning a grumble from him. Waylon usually didn’t mind, but he didn’t want to be shifted around and trapped at the moment. Eddie shushed him, raking a hand through Waylons hair before relaxing.

“at least its still better then the bathroom floor.” Waylon thought, shifting a bit. He fell asleep a minute later.

Sometime during the night, Waylon awoke. He sighed in annoyance at waking early. thankful that he had no nightmares this time. He turned his head to look at the wall. Tensing up when he saw the shadows begin to shift and move. He swallowed, shifting back to be more underneath Eddie.

Eddie seemed unaware to the shadows, so they must be hallucinations. Eddie growled at Waylon moving and gripped tighter around him, stopping him. Waylon buried his face back into the pillow to not see the shadows. The feeling of being watched nagged at him, making him nervous. He grabbed on tightly to Eddies shoulder, looking for something to give him small comfort. Eddie, being the only thing there, was all he had.

Eddie awoke to Waylons grip on his shoulder. He untangled him and wrapped his arms around Waylon. Eddie grabbed his hand and let Waylon hold it tightly. Eddie began feeling Waylon shaking underneath him.

“its alright darling. Ill keep you safe.” Eddie said, trying to give some encouragement. Waylon let out a few long breaths he was holding. It was hard for him to calm down when seeing realistic nightmares and the feeling of being watched. He looked again at the wall, sighing when he saw no more shadow things. The feeling of being watched disappeared. He buried his face back into the pillows, trying to fall right back to sleep.

He did after more encouragements from Eddie. The rest of the night was peaceful for him. He growled when Eddie woke him the next morning for breakfast. He raked his hair back as he sat up. He looked into the paper bowl handed to him, seeing some canned peaches.

He finished them off soon after they were handed to him. He stretched as he turned to look at the window. He saw some blue light coming in through the cracks in the curtains. He growled again at how early they were up. He missed being able to sleep in. he changed his clothes and got ready to leave.

“come on, time to leave.” Eddie said, watching Waylon re-tie his shoes.

“ I know.” he yawned, standing up to move towards the door. They walked closely together along the forest edge, watching out for Murkoff. Stopping a few times as Murkoff passed by. Half way on there walk, Eddie stopped to watch a large Murkoff gathering. The security were formed in a large circle, protecting something. Eddie walked up to a building to try and get a closer look.

“what are you doing?! We gotta keep moving!!” Waylon whispered.

“they’re talking about something. I want to know what. It mite help us get by them later.” Eddie said as he got closer. Waylon stayed close to him, wanting rather to leave.

Waylon looked around him, trying to listen. He only heard mumbles, getting 1 clear word every 10 sentences. A small group of Murkoff in the middle disbanded, showing a man. At the sight of him Eddie sucked in a quick breath and his whole body tensed. It made Waylon worry, was he someone Eddie knew?

“Eddie …?” Waylon whispered, trying to get his attention. He was ignored, Eddie stared intently at the figure, hatred filling his eyes. “Eddie?” Waylon said again, getting more paranoid the longer they stayed.

“Darling?” Waylon said, to break Eddies glare. It worked and Eddies tense posture softened. He looked at Waylon and guided him to start moving.

“we have to leave, now.” Eddie commanded as he pushed Waylon along.

“do you know that guy?” Waylon asked as he was pushed.

“nothing to worry about darling.” Eddie said. All those words did was make Waylon worry.

“Who was that man? Ive never seen him before. Eddie was involved with him at some point. Something big if Eddie is worried about him.” Waylon thought. Eddie stopped pushing him and yanked him away in another direction as Murkoff started getting too close.

Murkoff was spreading out from the grouping and the two had gotten too close. They were slowly being surrounded by wandering Murkoff. Eddie brought them to a nearby apartment building, climbing up a few flight of stairs.

“we cant stay here.” Waylon said, panting from there running.

“i know. We'll sneak out the back fire exit, jump to a nearby building and go down the stairs to the woods again.” Eddie said, walking with a quick pace down a hall.

“what if Murkoffs there?” Waylon asked.

“they'll pass by the building. They want to check run down buildings first and will be heading to the rundown factory’s.” Eddie said, climbing out onto the fire escape, making sure no Murkoff were around first.

Waylon quickly climbed out the window, following Eddies lead. They jumped onto the roof of the building next door. Not very hard when they were only 5 feet apart. They went to the stairs, silently going down a few flights. At the bottom, Waylon was heavily panting as he followed Eddie. He was running behind him till Eddie stopped suddenly. Waylon slammed into him, not expecting at all to stop.

He looked up at Eddie, surprised and confused. Eddie was frozen, staring at something ahead, his posture tense. Waylon slowly glanced around him, seeing the man from earlier. He was pointing a gun at Eddie, forcing him to stay in place.

The man glanced at Waylon looking out. Waylon hid back behind Eddie, his nervousness growing. Eddie put a arm a little behind him to stop Waylon from trying to look out again.

Artisan turned a corner into this building after seeing movement pass by on the roof. He turned a corner with his gun drawn, surprised by Eddie coming quickly coming down the stairs. Stopping a few feet short of running into him. Eddie deeply glared at him with hatred after recognizing who he was. Artisan was silently looking him over, the lesions on eddies face catching his attention. He began noticing there were other multiple wounds.

Gashes, bullet wounds, lesions on his face, and his eyes contained blood. Artisan knew Eddie was a rock with experiencing pain, but all this must be dragging him down. His examination was cut short by movement to the right of Eddie. It was another man with him, looking even worse.

One huge scar going across his face with stitches, bloody gauze wrapped arms. As soon as artisan saw him, he disappeared back behind Eddie. Artisan knew something was off. Why was Barker so desperate to get them? What the hell happened to these two? They looked like they just went through all the layers off hell. No asylum could do this much damage without some illegal action occurring.

“... what happened to your face?” artisan questioned bluntly. He didn’t care if he offended Eddie, not like Eddie didn’t despise him already. He wanted some answers, and he would at least get some from Eddie then going through a dance with Barker for a vague one.

“why are you here, with them?” Eddie glared, unblinking.

“i was called by Barker to bring you in.” artisan answered with a glare.

Waylon went pale and sick at the name. Flashes of cannibals eating body’s, blood, the thick smell of rotting body’s and metallic blood. The engine awakened in a flurry of bloody images, painful flashes, and painful shocks. Waylons PTSD was run over with fear to escape terrifying hallucinations of rotting sick cannibals.

Waylon started hyperventilating and shaking against Eddie. It caught his attention, although he didn’t want to loose attention on artisan he had to check Waylon. Eddie glanced over his shoulder, paying attention to any movement artisan made while checking Waylon. He slowly reached behind him to grab Waylon. The touch back fired.

Waylon grabbed Eddies knife, sticking out of a side pocket, and barreled past him. He slammed into artisan, knocking him over with a gun shot going off. Eddie froze at the sound, fearing his darling was shot. But the bullet missed and Waylon continued out a near exit.

Eddie felt a little relief, running by artisan. He wanted to kill him, but he had to stop Waylon before he ran into a Murkoff search party. He followed him to a near by alley way. Waylon was shaking and hyperventilating, the grip on Eddies knife made his knuckles white.

He approached cautiously, yanking the knife away from Waylon and grabbing him so he couldn’t flee again. Waylon tried to fight Eddie till he calmed down and realized who it was. The hallucinations had stopped once he ran out of the building. He didn’t fully remember what happened and hid in a alley. He was fearing that Murkoff mite find him and fought Eddie when he was first grabbed because of that.

Eddie started pulling him away from the area. Trying to get them away to the cabins as quickly as possible. They just had to pass the bridge and they would be free to hide in the woods. They were running by buildings, passing by scrambling Murkoff. They knew they were around by artisan alerting them all through radio.

They were closing in around them. They had no time to stop or slow. Every minor pause allowed Murkoff to get closer. Eventually they were spotted, running by a alley. Bullets went by them, busting off pieces of wall near by or the concrete at there feet.

Waylon kept up as close as possible. Fearing something was going to happen. The dark cloud looming before was turning into a storm in his skull. Everything was slowing around him, the sound of shootings being muffled by the loud pulsing of his heart. They ran to the stone bridge that was just ahead. The thick trees around them blocking the heavy fire. Running across the bridge had become almost impossible with the fire on it. Dust and pieces of rock being shot off around them.

They made it half way, but then a large rock thudded in front of Waylon. He jumped back in reaction, assuming it to be a bullet when it hit with a loud sound. He looked at the rock, everything going quiet, and suddenly slow for him when he saw the detail on it.

It wasn’t a rock … it was a grenade.

Eddie stopped, seeing Waylon freeze. He looked at what Waylon was looking at. His blood froze, seeing Waylon 8 feet from a grenade.

“RUN!!” Eddie yelled at him. It snapped Waylon out of his freeze. He bolted away from it across the other side of the bridge, separated from Eddie. He got 2 feet before it exploded.

Waylon let out a sudden painful gasp as something went through his ribs with intense force. He heard multiple snaps, only hearing his heart pulse in his head. All the noise he heard went silent. He felt immense pain that quickly turned to numbing cold. The world went bright for him and turned black, in a second, as everything sped up and then stopped.

[anastasiaskarsgard]

so theres my masterlist for previous chapters. Here is the newest part of 

HIS QUEEN

4

NSFW 18 + mention of death, butchering, sex, some stuff that may freak ya out. its Roman Godfrey 

DESCRIPTION***** Briana could tell Roman Godfrey was trouble from the start, but he eventually got under her skin and broke her heart. Just when she feels like she’s moved on, his lawyers show up and tell her shes his sole beneficiary. with pryce and the board dead too, what serets does the white tower hold?

                                                         4 The reality of the shit show that apparently had gone down in the past month in Hemlock Grove,  was starting to sink in as they made their way down to the underground levels. The Godfrey Institute without any Godfreys', and no Dr Pryce, seemed an impossibility. Bri had a lot of respect for the late doctor, but the man was ruthless, with little to no sympathy for the dead. A lot of people said they were afraid of him, but she felt that wasn't the proper emotion dr pryce inspired. Fear wasn't the right word if she were honest. He was charming and charismatic, but it was all superficial. Uneasy was the best way to describe how he made her feel, even though she had counted him as a friend.

The doors opened to Basement three which was the lowest level of the underground floors, and was essentially an enormous freezer. When you stepped out of the elevators there was a great hallway stretching to your left and right, as well as straight ahead. There were five aisles of freezers, each varying levels of cold storage from near freezing temperatures for keeping medications and organs, freezing temps for cadavers of people and animals, all the way down to a cryogenic freezer cooled with pure liquid helium. The fact it even existed was mind boggling to Bri.

This wasn't the first time she had been down there. she'd been down there several times, but she never had turned right, so when Blitzkey turned right and proceeded all the way down to the furthest aisle, she was elated. She'd never been allowed to go right, and she'd always been curious what was so forbidden, especially when she thought about the crazy things she'd been allowed to see.

Dr Pryce had some deal with a few hospitals to get the bodies that are given up for science by family members, or those that were never claimed. It was actually shocking the amount of cadavers they processed and were used in Dr Pryces' controversial macabre experiments. Bri often wondered if the families of these corpses would be mortified if they discovered what had happened to them. She couldn't refer to them as loved ones, or even people or she felt sick.

She had to figure that out after a few times dealing with "processing." She'd always been very respectful of the dead. Handling them with extra care and consideration, because they had once had hopes and dreams. They had family and friends somewhere that were most likely mourning them, the least she could do, was be reverent. Since the bodies they received weren't ever going to be seen again, and there was little to no accountability with how they were treated, they would be hacked to pieces like a cow in a  butcher shop. Sometimes they might only need a certain part, and send the rest through the shredder. There'd also been more than one occasion where the deceased was obviously murdered but showed no signs of an autopsy. That was what had lead Bri to discover Romans secret.

From the first day she met Roman, she had known there was something about him that wasn't human. She was thinking it was a severe personality disorder like psychopathy or he was one of those people that had special genes that made them have  super powers. She had read that some people only require two or three hours of sleep a night, or there are people that have unbreakable bones, or even those that have super hearing or eyesight. She thought Roman was super attractive, and it just fucked up his personality somehow.

       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dr Pryce had mysteriously received a body quite late in the day, and asked her and a lab teh to take it down. Bri was shocked when she touched the person and they were still warm, but she rolled the body to the elevators, keeping an eye out to avoid Roman. She'd asked her partner to warn her if she spotted him so she could hide. She felt ridiculous, but she knew he was trouble, because for whatever reason if he wanted to talk to her, she couldn't say no. even when he asked her out, over and over and she said no, for some reason, she couldn't walk away until he had given up. her partner spotted him when they got down to the freezers, so in Bri's panic, she hid on the shelf under the bed they were rolling, hidden by the hanging sheet. Roman walked right up and offered to take the body from there. Bri found it entirely unusual for the spoiled CEO to be so helpful, but was reassured business was as usual when her partner tried to refuse, and he called her a fuckwit and made her go back upstairs. Bri wasn't freaked out, but more annoyed with what an asshole he had been, but she figured she would just climb out from under there, when he left.

When he rolled the body in the freezer, she assumed he would leave, except he didnt. He closed the door and removed the sheet, now leaving her totally visible if he were to step away and look below.  She was trying to think of a reasonable explanation, when she heard a grotesque chomping, wet slurping sound. The possible causes of these sounds raced through her brain, and none of them made any sense. Her fear melted away, transforming into morbid curiosity so she crawled out from under the bed and turned to see what he was up to.

The breath in her lungs hitched and her stomach did back flips when she beheld Roman Godfrey, the Beautiful Boy Billionaire sucking someones blood. His eyes were closed, so he hadn't noticed her yet, as he was clamped down on this persons neck and sucking the blood out. It was the most puzzling amazing thing she had ever seen. He was absolutely drinking this persons blood and she had so many questions.

Romans bright green eyes lazily opened, before noticing a figure standing in front of him, causing him to leap back in complete panic;  eyes wild, blood dripping down his chin, frantically back peddalling until slamming into the far wall.

Bri glanced at the body and then carefully approached Roman, avoiding looking in his eyes since she read that you don't do that to predators. And there was something funny about what happened when he wanted her to do something.

"Its not what it looks like," he whined.

"Oh Roman, it's exactly what it looks like. Are you a vampire?"

"Are you a fucktard? There's no such thing as vampires."

"I did notice that you ate raw pork once and you didn't get ill. I found that strange. All the meat you eat is raw, and I wondered how you never appeared to fall ill."

"Look me in the eye Bri."

"oh no no Dracula. I finally get how you somehow talk me into shit that I don't want to do! You have that vampire razzle dazzle bullshit."

"are you hearing yourself right now?" Roman scoffed as he walked over to Bri,

She tried to appear confident and was surprised that she felt no fear, but somehow she KNEW he would not hurt her. He put his finger under her chin, attempting to make her look at him, but she shut her eyes. "Just answer some of my questions Roman. for science for fuck's sake!"

"You are so weird. Aren't you afraid I'll eat you if I am a vampire?" he spit with such venom, that Bri just started swinging, with her eyes shut. "what the hell? your eyes aren't even open!"

"I don't like your bitch ass tone!" she steamed

If she had had her eyes open, she would of seen the big grin on Roman's face.

"How are you still a brat? Most people would be having a fucking shit fit, but you wanna play twenty questions."

"Oh my fucking god, I get twenty!? Ok ok ok. I'm ready!"

"I don't mean literally twenty questions, that's an expression. Why should I answer any questions for you, what do I get out of it?"

"I will go out with you, but you have to promise to be honest or I will be able to tell and I'll never speak to you again."

"What makes you think you'll even leave this room if I'm a vampire and now you know?'

Bri opened her big beautiful eyes, looking deep into Romans emerald orbs and said with complete conviction "You'd never hurt me."

Roman was so enchanted by the way she seemed to be looking at his very soul, that he forgot to try and compel her, before she remembered to close her eyes again.

"OOOOHHH! You almost got me with the mind ninja shit!"

Roman laughed and shook his head, he was so drawn to this woman, she was almost like a drug to him. He'd never wanted someone or something as bad as he wanted her so he threw caution to the wind. "Ok. First question."

"Are you some sort of vampire?"

"I'm actually an Upir which is like a vampire."

"ok, two, How can you walk in the sun?"

"The sun doesn't bother us, I think thats just bullshit."

"three. How old are you really?"

"I'm really eighteen."

"Four. Are you going to get old and die like me?"

"No. We live a very long time?"

"Five. How did you become this?"

"I was born with it and I took my own life?"

Bri frowned, she hadn't been expecting that. It turned her stomach and made her want to comfort him. She reached out blindly trying to find him but he moved just out of reach. "Dammit Roman where are you?"

"Im right here, what are you doing?"

"trying to comfort you, What does it look like? Give me your hand." she huffed.

Roman complied and interlaced his fngers with hers.

"Ok. Six--"

"you mean eight."

"What?How?"

"there's eight and nine. six you asked where i was. seven you asked what does it look like. eight you asked what, and nine you asked how."

"you are fucking impossible. I can feel you smirking too so stop it.' she said squeezing his hand as hard as she could.

"you're so cute when you're mad babe."

"Ok ten! Did you know killing yourself was gong to turn you into this?"

"No."

"Eleven.... Why would you ever do that Roman?"

"I felt like it was the only way to beat my mother. She wanted me to do the unthinkable, so rather than listen to her, I thought I'd fuck up her plans and die."

"Is she an Upir?"

"She is."

"Thirteen. I gotta keep track here. Did you know she was one?"

"No i Did not."

"How am I already at fourteen? FUCK!"

"Number fifteen..."

"Dammit! Ugh. OK only five more. Must not be dumb ok. Fifteen. Have you ever killed anyone?"

"yes."

"Did bitch have it coming?"

Roman let out a belly laugh and said "Yes always."

Bri Smiled. "If I open my eyes, are you going to mind ninja me?" silence. "Roman if i have to repeat the question, it still only counts as one."

"I mean I have to Bri. I cant have you knowing this about me and then just act like its ok. And you're right, I won't hurt you so I have to make you forget."

"Please don't Roman." She said pulling Roman into an embrace. "I want to kiss you, but you have blood on your face."

"You are the weirdest fucking girl in the entire world."

Bri Giggled, "Why? And holy shit its cold!"

"Ok this is number eighteen. Because I have had lunch with you a million times, bought you a bunch of gifts, wrote you notes, listen to you talk about shit I do not give a flying fuck about and even be nice to people, i mean i literally did for you what i didnt think i could do, and you won't give me the time of day, but all of a sudden I am literally eating someone and you wanna kiss me. Fucking unbelievable!"

"Its because I feel like I can trust you now. Why didnt you just mind ninja me into going out with you or maybe even fucking you, I dont know the limits of this power."

"Because I want it to be genuine and i want you to remember it cuz i want you to..." silence.

"You want me to....." Bri whispered feeling his hot breath on her face. She looks up into hs big green eyes, and notice the extra moisture there. Its downright comical, that he somehow looks vulnerable with blood all over his face.

"I want you to love me."

"This is all you're fault Roman Godfrey!

"Whats my fault?' He brought his lips close to hers, as his breath ghosted along her lips, causing the shivers to run down her spine. She leaned forward and their lips met, making her feel relief and revulsion simultaneously. Roman responds with a low growl and turns his head to take the kiss deeper. He sucks on her lower lip, causing a needy moan to escape Bri as she rakes her hands through his hair. Roman grabs her by her shoulders and spins her around so now she is pinned against the wall. He kisses along her jawline, to her ear and she can't help but to hold her breath when she feels his wet tongue drag down her throat. He pulls her shirt down taking her nipple in his mouth as he looks up at her and she can't think of a time she ever wanted someone more. "This is dangerous."

"You'd never hurt me. But real talk, I'm fucking freezing."

With a great amount of effort, Roman pulls himself off of her out of breath, and nearly mad with need. "Go straight to my office. I'll meet you up there."

She runs for the door, realizing she is violently shaking without Romans warm body pressed up against her. She opens it, looking outside to make sure no one is in the hall. Coast is clear for her to hustle into the bathroom, just as she hears the elevator doors open. She looks in the mirror and surprisingly is fine with her reflection. Blood is all over her face, neck, and blouse and her hair looks like someone took it half apart. She had his large handprint on her arms and the entire side of her head. She knows this should be freaking her out, but she keeps looking at his bloody hand prints, and decides then and there, she is his.

                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She realized she had been holding her breath when she walked in the cooler, and startled Blitzky when she finally expelled it. Roman hadnt been put away, and was on a stainless steel table, completely nude, with what appeared to be his heart (or what was left of it) on the table next to his head. His throat had been ripped open and there was a large chest wound where his heart had been ripped out, before being chewed and spit out. He had suffered some type of skeletal breaks as well, since his position appeared unnatural.

He was really dead, she was alone. she could feel the tears streaming down her face, making no effort to hide it. Every second feels as though she's losing touch with reality. Pure panic setting in.

"Wow this is really not fixable is it?' she shrieks, in a voice she doesn't even recognize.

"There's actually something else we could try that not exactly ethical, and i"m not sure that he will still be himself, but will not judge you, no matter what you try. I will assist you, I just can't make the decision." Blitzky said, hands visibly shaking like a dog shitting peach pits.

Bri's heart flutters and she calms instantly, hope reignited in her "Anything."

" Well I am sure you are aware there are three levels to the basement."

"Obviously."

"Except its not. there's four levels."

"What is he hiding down there?"

Blitzkey looked like he was having a minor panic attack and couldn't hold still or catch his breath. Bri walked over comforting him, and rubbing his back trying to get him to get it under control. she allowed him to embrace her as she tenderly rubbed his back. She wanted to know what the fuck was down there, but he had been through a lot, so she tried to be as empathetic as possible.

"Its his stock." he whispered.

Bri felt her stomach twist in a knot. A chill ran up her spine, and she wanted to believe he wasn't talking about live donors, but she couldn't think any other type of stock that required top secret secret locations.

"When you say stock, do you mean donor parts or experimental projects?"

Blitzky laughed uncomfortably, reaching up and itching the back of his neck. In the time she had spent with him before, she recognized it as his nervous tick. "I mean donors are the best way to put it, although all these donors are still alive. Dr Pryce liked to have live subjects for some projects. He was also very interested in becoming an Upir himself so he'd never die and was determined to figure out how to turn a human. He has several of them down there still and i have no idea what to do with them now. They're all criminals and not the types to let out into the world. He made sure they were all loathsome beings. The humans are easier to deal with than the Upir. One of them looks like he's just a beautiful teen boy, but hes a psychopath that's killed hundreds if not thousands. Let me just show you. I'm rambling," "Please do." Bri said, gesturing for him to lead the way. She couldn't believe how calm she was being over this. Why was she not surprised? "Do you think we could rebuild Roman?"

Blitzkey motioned for her to follow him as they walked all the way ro the farthest right corner, where the cryogenic freezer was. I had heard there was one somewhere in the building, but it was kind of a myth no one saw and here it was. I was trying to ascertain how the liquid helium was cycled through the system, when Blitzkey typed a code in it, revealing it was in reality an elevator in disguise.

"That's kind of disappointing. I thought it was a real cryo cooler." Bri said. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine! Are you ok?"

"I'll let you know when we get down there."

[taeinmycup]

Countdown To You | Pt. 2

Genre: Angst, Fluff, maybe some smut in the future

Member: Park Jimin

Words: 3.3k

“Your soulmate clock is actually a countdown of how long your soulmate has left to live and holy shit you have to find your soulmate soon because your clock says you have three months left.” (source.)

A/N: Surprise!! :D

Partly inspired by this song. listen to it while reading this pls its an awesome song i love hyorin and hwarang dfjgkshkj

Pt.1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6

“Pharyngeal cancer. The main reason why my life is so short-lived, basically.”

You looked down on your cup of coffee, locking your eyes with the light-brown hot liquid, not daring to look into your soulmate’s eyes. A sigh escaped from your lips, your cold fingers tightening around the white cup in your hands as his painful words reached your ears.

Sometimes, when optimism would overtake you, you couldn’t help but sincerely hope that your soulmate clock could be wrong after all, even if the bright, red numbers told you otherwise. That somehow, the countdown would change after meeting your other half, and that you wouldn’t have to worry about your soulmate dying soon.

However, especially after this encounter with your CEO, you only learned that optimism was sometimes a thing people could only dream of, a thing people only could wish for.

“How… bad is it?” You blurted out the question before you could even stop it, and you quickly put your own hand on your loose mouth, about to apologize to your CEO for your bold words. However, the man just laughed it off, his surprisingly adorable eye smile showing as he looked at you like you were the cutest thing in the world.

“Stage four,” Jimin sighed, his eye smile slightly disappearing, only to be replaced with a slight frown plastered on his handsome face. You almost spitted out your coffee on him, utterly shocked at the two words he just let out.

“S-stage four- What?” you mumbled underneath your breath, scanning the man in front of you from head to toe with widened eyes. His dark hair was shining brightly despite its color, while his melanin skin color looked healthy as his sparkling eyes were very much lively. The man in front of you did not look like a stage four cancer patient at all, and you couldn’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, this was all a sick joke from the universe.

But you knew it wasn’t.

“You look healthy – for someone with a stage four throat cancer.” Your words were supposed to lighten up the mood, as you added a soft chuckle after your sentence, not wanting to make the situation even more depressed than it already was. To your relief, Jimin was chuckling along, shrugging as he wandered his eyes through the small coffee shop, the vintage interior of it very pleasant to his eyes.

“I have my ways,” the man commented, not saying a word further as he sipped on his own coffee, the hot temperature of the liquid burning in his mouth, causing him to flinch a bit at the sudden feeling. You sighed, deciding not to ask further about the issue. It was not your business anyways.

Right?

Silence overtook the two of you, as the only thing you could hear was the coffee barista cleaning the coffee cups behind the counter, since there were no other costumers besides the two of you. Normally, you would have enjoyed the silence, since you were more the quiet type of person than someone who would rather talk.

However, right now, you found yourself literally wishing for some subject to talk about. The silence consuming the two of you felt too awkward to you. This was ironic, really. A day ago, you never would have thought you would be sitting with your handsome, ‘unreachable’ CEO in a random coffee shop somewhere in Seoul. Let alone having the same guy as your soulmate.

As you laid your eyes on him, you could absolutely feel your attraction towards him, this so-called ‘natural attraction’ human beings would have towards their soulmate. However, your ‘love’ for him was not there yet, and you knew you actually shouldn’t worry about loving him, because you eventually would.

The real question was, would you be able to learn to love Park Jimin within just three months?

The thought of having your own beloved soulmate by your side for such a long time was painful, and your heart broke at the thought of him suffering because of this useless illness, even though you could not find yourself being in love with him…

Yet.

“Life is funny, isn’t it, Miss Y/N?”

You lifted your eyes, looking at the man sitting in front of you as he held his coffee cup against his smiling lips, as if like he was about to drink it, yet he still didn’t. You quirked up one of your brows, not exactly getting the exact meaning of his vague words. However, as if you were about to ask him was he meant with these words, he seemed to be a step ahead of you already.

“We should be happy, you know. We’re eachother’s soulmates, and we found eachother. I know some people don’t even get the chance to find theirs, so in that case, we’re considered as the lucky ones,” Jimin remarked, slowly putting down his cup, his eyes not leaving yours for a bit. His strong gaze on you intimidated you, really. But his gaze was also enough prove to you that the man felt the same ‘natural attraction’ towards you as you did towards him.

“However,” Jimin continued, clearing his throat as he scratched the back of his neck, the look in his eyes turning into an uneasy one. “I don’t consider this, finding my soulmate at this particular time in my life, as something lucky. Not for me, but also not for you, since you actually deserve to be treated better by fate.”

You nodded your head at his words. He was right, you knew that. Finding your soulmate was rather an unfortunate event to you than something fortunate. However, you still insisted on finding your soulmate, despite knowing that he had a short life to live. You did not know why, though. Perhaps it was your longing to search for love, since you actually wanted to experience how it was like to… have a soulmate whom you could love sincerely.

Looking at it on the bright side, fate still gave you the chance to experience such a thing. You could not help but actually be relieved as well, because it was not only you who could experience this, but also the broken man in front of you.

“What if I consider finding you, my dearly beloved soulmate, as something lucky?”

Your words made the CEO look up, before eying you with somewhat widened eyes, shock reflected into them. His shocked attitude made you chuckle, as you already could predict the exact words he would be saying next.

“You consider meeting a terminally ill person as your soulmate, as something lucky?” Somehow, you also expected the snicker he let out after he asked you this question. You only responded with a brief nod, and a small, but genuine smile.

“Yes, Mr. Park. I know it’s hard for you to accept the fact that you will have to leave eventually, and I understand that. However, you could look at it on the bright side as well. Many people experience the meeting with their soulmate as something… What’s the word? Energetic? Fun? Joyful?”

You tilted your head to the side, your eyes locking on his dull ones, your small smile never fading from your lips as you continued on with your words.

“So why can’t we experience it that way? You will be gone after a short amount of time, and sure, I will be devastated because of that. However, there’s also another thing I would be one hundred percent sure about…”

The next thing you did caught the man in front of you totally off guard, but somehow, you could not care less. You bended over the table slightly, only to grab his soft hand, making the red mark on your wrist tingle weirdly, but not uncomfortably per say.

“I would rather give you my sincere love as your soulmate within this short amount of time, than letting you go right now and regretting it afterwards.”

You never told Jimin how many time he had left until he would leave this world.

And he never asked about it either.

You had learned many things about your CEO in the week that you worked as his personal assistant. Especially little things, such as Park Jimin preferring milk and sugar in his black coffee he would drink every morning, and that he loved to look out of his window when he was stressed out, or when he was thinking about something very important. You also found out that Kang Seulgi was indeed right about his ‘special habit’, because you surely lost count of how many times he went with his hand through his thick hair in one single day.

You had learned many things about Park Jimin, one of the most successful CEOs in South Korea. However, there was one thing you still needed to learn about him, or rather, that one thing that the both of you still needed to learn about eachother.

And that was learning to love eachother.

Trust is one of the main key points for a successful relationship with your partner, and sadly, it was nowhere to be found in your relationship with Park Jimin. Sure, you felt attracted to him and sure, he felt the same way towards you, but you felt like that was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

Thinking he would spill every single thing of his private life to you, just because you were his soulmate, was a wrong thought of you to think.

Because another thing that you had learned about Park Jimin, is that he was a mysterious kind of person, and someone who separated his work from his private live. And, well yeah. Technically, you were only part of his work business, since you were his personal assistant. Yet, you felt like there was no actual meaning in the ‘personal’ part of your job, because you actually knew nothing about the Park Jimin outside of the Park Inc. office building.

Except for the fact that he was terminally ill, ofcourse.

At the moment, you were on your second last day of your job as CEO Park’s personal assistant. You were seated in his office, as the both of you were busying in your own work. The silence was engulfing the huge office, but it was not necessarily uncomfortable, since you were too drowned into your own documents to notice the silence, the sound of you typing on the computer pretty much echoing around the office.

You were busy typing an e-mail to one of Jimin’s business partners, informing them that he would only have his meetings in the morning or early afternoon, of which you still did not know the exact reason, but you had a good assumption about it.

As soon as you were done typing the e-mail, you clicked on the ‘send’-button, letting out a relieved breath. The feeling of finishing a part of your immensely huge amount of work felt relieving, almost refreshing. You stretched out your arms for a bit, trying to let the blood flow into them, feeling like a stiff statue because you had been sitting in the same position for hours. Moving your eyes to the clock hanging on the huge wall behind you,  you found out that you still had two hours left until your shift was over, making you sigh out loudly.

What you actually did not see, was Jimin eying you with an amusing smirk, as he softly put down the papers he was observing before, tilting his head slightly to the side.

His eyes never leaving you in the process.

“Are you tired, Y/N-ssi?”

Perhaps it was just the suddenness of his random words towards you that made you jolt up in your seat, your heart beating rapidly as you eyed him back directly. But you knew his suddenness was unfortunately not the only factor of you being so startled. Maybe flustered would be a better word to describe your mental and physical state.

The uncomfortable burn on your wrist did not help either, goddamnit.

“N-No Mr. Park. I was just – I have been sitting in the same position for hours, so I feel a bit… stiff.” You added that typical small awkward laughter to your words, and you ended up immediately regretting it as his amusing smile came into your vision, clearly enjoying a semi-disheveled you.

Jimin nodded his head slightly, leaning back against his chair (or what you sometimes call, his huge-ass fucking throne), stroking his right wrist for a second, before chuckling loudly. You just blinked at your CEO, your eyes occasionally flying to his right wrist, where you could see the upper part of the red tail plastered on the skin.

“Well, feeling stiff sometimes means that you feel tired as well. But you’re lucky today, since I have a meeting in a half hour, which means that you will be finishing your shift much earlier than you would do normally,” Jimin said to you in a friendly tone, the politeness in his voice clearly audible, almost forced, you’d say. You did not know if he did it on purpose, being so polite like that, but you knew for sure that it made you extremely uncomfortable sometimes.

Because soulmates shouldn’t be talking so formally polite like this.

You gave him a smile and a small nod, mouthing a soft ‘yeah, thank god’, before taking a sip of your already cooled off cappuccino, and you silently cursed yourself mentally for not drinking it much earlier.

The sudden notification sound coming out of your computer made you jolt in your seat for the second time, making Jimin chuckle at your behavior once again, and you made sure to turn off your notification sounds whenever Jimin would be in the office as well.

You recognized the notification sound as the signal for a new incoming e-mail, and you immediately recognized the name of the sender, as he was the business partner Jimin would meet in an half hour. You quirked up your brows, slightly shifting your eyes towards your CEO, who was already continuing with his work, his attention towards you all gone as he was concentrating himself on the documents in front of him.

You had to admit that the frown on his face at the moment, made him look a thousand times more sexy than he already was.

You opened the e-mail with one simple click, and you could feel your shoulders getting heavier with every word in the e-mail you read, as you silently cursed once again.

It seemed like two more hours would be added to your shift today, and you cursed this Kim Taehyung for cancelling his meeting with Jimin last-minute.

You shifted your eyes towards Jimin once again, who was still emerged into his own work, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty to interrupt him from his work. But it was not like you had another choice, so you took in a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the interruption.

“Mr. Park? I just got an email – it’s from Kim Taehyung.”

Your words made Jimin look up immediately, especially after hearing that specific name, Kim Taehyung. He quirked up a brow at you, a thing he would do occasionally as well, and you assumed that it must be one of his many little habits to do.

“What does it say?” he asked you, the tone in his voice slightly suspicious as he eyed you directly. You gulped down the lump in your throat, immediately shifting your eyes away from his intimidate ones, before they landed upon Kim Taehyung’s mail on your computer screen.

“Mr. Kim is… cancelling today’s meeting. He is suggesting to meet on the day after tomorrow,” you explained him, the sound of your voice so soft that it almost sounded like a tiny whisper. However, despite your soft voice, Jimin was able to hear every single word you let out, and he put his head in his palms out of semi-frustration, before letting out a tired and worn-out sigh.

He mumbled some words underneath his breath, which were inaudible to you, as he was mumbling them into his palms. The man then lifted up his head, only to look at you directly, giving you his one look which he would always give you whenever he was about to give you a task to do.

You had only worked with Park Jimin for one week, yet you had learned everything about his little habits. It was almost scary, to be honest.

“Okay, send him an e-mail back. Tell him that he can fuck off, and that he won’t come further with his small-built electronic business if he keeps cancelling meetings last-minute.”

You almost choked in your own saliva as you heard Jimin’s bold words, as this side of him was never shown to you. Up until now, Jimin had showed you politeness to the fullest, his well-mannered behavior causing you to feel even more attracted towards the man, somehow.

Clearing your throat, you clicked on the reply button above the e-mail on your screen, typing a new e-mail back in much politer words than your grumpy CEO just let out a second ago, telling this Kim Taehyung that Jimin would not want to meet with him again. You were done with typing after a minute passed, and you checked the mail on spelling mistakes once more, before clicking on the send-button once again.

“I sent it, Mr. Park. Is there anything else I need to do?” you asked the man in a polite way, closing your e-mail inbox as you opened up a new word-document, about to type out the tasks you expected Jimin to give you, since you always did this as a sort of memo for your tasks.

It was then when Jimin rose up from his chair, grabbing his long, black, and expensive looking coat, before walking up towards your desk with a shit-eating grin plastered on his handsome face.

“Put on the nicest dress you have in your closet. I’m taking you out to dinner tonight. I will be in front of your door at 6 PM.”

You absentmindedly nodded your head as you typed in the words he had said, repeating them with a soft voice as the sound your fingers tapping on your keyboard engulfed through the office.

Wait, what?

You blinked at the words in your brand new word document, shaking your head slightly to confirm that you were not hallucinating, or whatever.

I’m taking you out to dinner tonight.

I will be in front of your door at 6 PM.

The next thing you could hear was Jimin’s soft laugh, causing you to lift up your head slowly, only to see the man smiling down at you.

It was the first time ever, for him to smile so genuinely at you like this.

“Make sure to be ready on time, Y/N-ssi. I will see you tonight. Lock the office when you leave.”

The last thing you saw was Park Jimin winking down at you, before he left the office with confident steps, and also leaving you behind, as you were totally confused and startled about what had happened just a mere second ago.

“He fucking asked me out. Park Jimin fucking asked me out…”

You felt the familiar burn on your wrist once again, and although it was not as intense as when you met him for the first time, it was still there on your wrist.

And although you were smiling at the fact that Park Jimin might have given you a chance to open up his closed off heart, the sight of your red tail mark turning into a tiny, slight grey shade, made you feel heartbroken.

It made you feel bittersweetly heartbroken, and you didn’t know if you would be able to handle the pain that was already coming towards you.

Because losing Park Jimin was not something you could stop.

[reddogf13]

Escape: Aftermath Ch: 3

Waylon X Eddie

Summery: After escaping the hell that is mount massive, Eddie and Waylon had been patching them self's to fix the damage. Murkoff however is not willing to release patients that easy. A new Murkoff CEO is hell bent on getting their two experiments back.

status: complete

rated: M - fowl language, sensitive topics, and gore

previous chap: Escape: Aftermath CH: 2

next chap: Escape: Aftermath CH: 4

_____________________________________

~Ch:3 System shutdown~

Barker was sitting in his office, the place darkened. Only the lights closest to the door were still on. the other half of the room, with his desk, was in shadow. He was rolling a small jar on his desk, back and forth. Staring at it with a emotionless face. He stopped rolling it, holding it still when someone knocked on his door.

“come.” Barker said, keeping a serious tone and stare on the jar. A man walked in quietly, stopping when he was 6 feet in front of the desk. Barker looked up at him slowly, a glare forming. He was never happy to be bothered by lower ranking workers. They were all morons who wasted his time.

“we found no body’s.” the man said.

“where are they?” Barker asked coldly. He expected a real answer, or else.

“the river they went down lead to a town. We think they could be there.” the man answered.

“where are they in the town?” Barker asked. He knew they didn’t know and that his time was being wasted again.

“we don-” the man started, jumping when a cracking noise was heard. Barker had cracked the liquid filled jar under his hand.

“did you ask the towns people? No, wait, you didn’t. Because if you did you would be telling me wouldn’t you?” Barker interrupted with a annoyed growl. He set the jar upright from its side, wiping his wet hand on his suit. The man catching a glimpse of something floating in the dark jar when moved.

“we did, but no one would talk.” the man said.

“did you really try? Iam sure a white threat would make them be more talkative. Or did you try and bribe with muffins?” Barker said, looking at the jar. The man swallowed.

“i should have done the talking. Humans are so easy to read, such horrible liars. Simple body motions can give everything away about them. A simple glance of there eyes can tell a direction to search. Eyes are the window to the soul after all.” Barker said, popping the lid off the jar and reaching in. wrapped around his hand by the red roots coming off, was a fresh looking eye.

“they cant lie.” Barker said, playing with the eye in his hand. The man looked away, feeling sick at the image.

“ill go make the troops ask again.” the man said, taking a step back.

“why in such a hurry? It makes me think you don’t like my company. Why don’t you sit.” Barker said in a pleasant manner, gesturing for the man to sit in front of his desk. The man nervously pulled a chair out for him to seat.

“people don’t seem very comfortable around me. I wonder why?” Barker said in monotone, pulling something from his desk. In his free hand he held a sharp blade meant for slitting open packages. The blade had stains that were faded, but still dark.

“just, worker intimidation.” the man said, wanting to just leave.

“could be, but I think its something more. … eyes can be so delicate. Without a delicate hand they could be crushed like a grape and deflate from there nice round shape. They also need to be kept in a fine solution of liquid, or else they dry up and shrivel away. I used to make that mistake, putting them only in plain water. They would lose the beautiful color they had.” Barker said.

“you cant take them out for long either. Its sad, because you can only appreciate them fully when out of the jar. Or … when they're still in the skull.” Barker said. He looked at the color of the eye one last time before dropping it into the jar. The eye making a plop noise as it hit the water and sank to the bottom next to the other.

“ ive never met a pair of ugly eyes, always beautiful. I sometimes have trouble resisting my urge to pluck them out then and there. That would be rude though, I should at least wait till they're fully dead first.” Barker laughed. The man looked beyond disturbed from his chair. Barker stood from his chair, coming around his desk, holding the packaging blade in his hand.

“i cant just pluck them out either. Mite accidentally crush them. I have to carefully pop a blade behind the eyes and gently move it till the eye is removed. Smoother things like a spoon would be better, but a knife is needed to cut the roots.” Barker said, disappearing from the mans view as he went behind him.

“The roots are tougher then they seem. even if its messier to use a knife, I think its worth it. Don’t you think?” Barker said.

“y-yes.” the man, said. Startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Barker patted his shoulder.

“good, glad you agree. You may go.” Barker said happily, walking back to his desk. The man got up quickly with a sigh hidden under his breath.

Barker heard the door close as he grabbed the cracked, slowly dripping, jar. He smiled at the eyes floating in the jar. He walked to a metal door behind his desk, opening the door to a brightly lit white room. The room was filled with tightly packed shelf’s. Covering them were neatly placed, lighted green, jars with a pair of eyes in each. Some having labels with names on them.

Barker went over to a narrow cabinet. He opened it and pulled out a liquid filled empty jar. He switched containers for the eyes, bringing them over to a lone empty space on one shelf.

“if his eyes were just a bit brighter. You would have had a new friend.” Barker said to the eyes, a grin growing as the orbs floated.

 *meanwhile*

Waylon was rubbing the back of Eddies neck. he was sleeping above Waylon again, tangling him in his arms. He would have rubbed his back, but was afraid of catching the stitches. It was still early in the night, but Waylon couldn’t sleep since he woke up.

His mind had been buzzing with thoughts. A single question haunting him.

“should I stay with Eddie?” Waylon questioned. Waylon was beginning to doubt the love between them to. His mind keeps telling him that he does, but is it true. What if it was just because of Stockholm syndrome. When he thought about it, was he afraid of leaving because he would be truly heartbroken.

He couldn’t think of that as the main reason. He was just too afraid of Eddie to leave. that was more a sign of spousal abuse then love. He could sneak away, but other things were stopping him. He was having a war with two parts of his mind, one wanting to leave the other to stay.

“you cant leave him, not after everything you’ve been through.”

“yes you can, you don’t owe anything. You both went through hell, but that’s all. Other patients suffered it, should you be with them? You're just afraid to leave him.”

“no iam not.”

“yes you are. You’re afraid that he'll attack you, and that once you leave you’ll be alone. That’s a unhealthy way of thinking. You could meet other, normal, better people. You wont be alone out there.”

“i cant live a normal life with people. Things have changed.”

“whats really changed? You're scarred and have PTSD, but that’s a normal healthy reaction. What about Eddie? He hasn’t changed either, hes still sick. You can heal and become normal again someday. Eddie cant, he will stay sick and abnormal forever. You cant change him and one day ... his sickness will win over you!!”

“no, NO!!” Waylon denied in a painful whisper. He closed his eyes as they started to tear up.

“you could run away. Go and find a hospital and claim amnesia, they'll believe it. They’ll help you be normal again. They'll heal you and let you truly be free. Not a prison you keep trying to cover as a loving relationship. Sick people don’t love, they just obsess over things they consider property. Run and escape him.” his voice growled deeply in his mind.

Waylon gripped onto Eddies shirt tightly, crying into his chest. Hearing Waylon in distress Eddie woke up, concern coming over him. He moved his arms to be wrapped around Waylon, gently shushing him. Waylon buried his face more, unable to stop crying.

He didn’t ask questions from Waylon. assuming he suffered something involving the engine. The engine affects were unfix able. Printed onto the brain in a scarring manor that would never fully disappear. It effected some more then others. Eddie had seen some people turned into unresponsive zombies, or thoughtless attackers. If Waylon had been there for another 4 months he would have been one of them.

Eddie reached up one hand, putting it behind Waylons head and brushing through his hair. Waylons crying slowly died down till it was small whimpers and a few sobs. Eddie gently shushed him some more.

“its okay.” Eddie spoke gently. Hearing Eddies voice calmed Waylon down faster. Waylon swallowed down his depression for a moment.

“iam sorry.” Waylon spoke, muffled, into Eddies chest. He held Waylon tight, kissing the top of his head. ignoring the compulsory feeling to entangle Waylon. It made Waylon feel a little more safe, despite the war in his head.

“you’re not safe. Hes sick, diseased of the brain.” Waylons brain warned, before it shut off for sleep.

*early morning*

Waylon was gently shaken awake by Eddie. He opened his eyes, seeing the bag with everything packed nearby. He was confused by the sight of it. He rose from the bed, still exhausted. The early morning blue light coming through the curtains made Waylon groan. How early was he awakened from his calming sleep.

“time to get up. We're leaving.” Eddie said.

“leaving?! Leaving where?!” Waylon questioned, pausing mid stretch at what Eddie said.

“people know we're here. So we have to leave for a different living space.” Eddie said.

“where would that be?” Waylon questioned, getting angry that Eddie was forcing them to leave.

“next town over.” Eddie said, putting the bag on. Waylon choked on his own spit.

“the next town?! Do you know how far that is?!” Waylon said.

“yes, but its safer there, and we'll be farther from Murkoff.” Eddie smiled as he helped Waylon up.

“he is diseased.” Waylon thought with a growl. He didn’t want to trudge through the cold winter whether to another town. They were safe where they were, but Eddie was paranoid because of 1 kid. He sighed as he followed Eddie out the door.

They walked outside of town, hidden in the vast thick forest. A thick layer of frost had formed on every surface. The crunching of frozen pine needled under his feet made Waylon feel colder.

“this is ridiculous.” Waylon thought. He glared at his breath, watching the thick fog he made drift off. It was early morning, freezing winter weather and they were going to walk 60 miles to the next town. Going through the forest, that Waylon was sure had mountain lions and bears.

“its never too late to run.” his mind spoke. Waylon rubbed his head, irritated and obtaining a headache. He was getting sick of the war in his head. He couldn’t leave Eddie, he just … couldn’t. Nothing was stopping him from running ... so why didn’t he?

He made up excuses and his mind broke them. A lot of people suffered in mount massive. what made Eddie special to keep in company with? Only that they escaped together and both survived. Waylon could go to the hospital, give a excuse of amnesia. Doctors couldn’t look up records if he didn’t know his name. Murkoff wouldn’t be able to trace him under a hospital assigned name or code.

“ staying out of pity?” Waylon thought. He did feel bad for Eddie after hearing his story. Maybe that’s why he stayed, he didn’t want to be known as another to abandon him.

“hes not a stray to be cared for. Hes a rabid dog. Someone abandoned him for a reason.” his mind spoke. Waylon was shocked by his thought, almost stumbling. It seemed to come out of nowhere. How could he possibly think that. It was disturbing to him, it couldn’t have been his thought. He could never think so negatively about someone. He felt sick, his thoughts were getting a bit more “carried away” then normal.

He wasn’t paying attention and walked into Eddie. He backed up annoyed, why did he stop. He looked up Eddie, expecting for him to look at him. When he wasn’t, Waylon got nervous. Did he accidentally say his dark thought out loud? Waylons heart skipped a beat.

“Eddie …?” Waylon said, barely above a whisper. Eddie quickly shushed him, not even fully looking at him over his shoulder. Waylon was a little taken back by the sudden shush. He looked around Eddie. All the color in his face vanished at the sight of a Murkoff blockade up ahead.

“head back to town.” Eddie said, facing Waylon and gently pushing him to walk the opposite direction. Waylon quickly walked, feeling sick and light headed at the sight. At least they weren’t seen, but how long would that last?

“they must be searching towns.” Waylon said.

“told you that girl would mess with things.” Eddie said.

“i don’t think this would be from a kid. Murkoff heard about two injured strangers in town after only 12 hours?” Waylon said.

“rumors and gossip spread fast, dear.” Eddie said, being alert of they're surroundings.

They made it back to the hotel. Waylon was feeling beyond ill when they made it and had to vomit in the bathroom. Eddie checked on him before he went to watch the window. Waylon stood back up and leaned over the sink, splashing water on his face.

“we cant leave the city, but we still have to leave here.” Eddie said. Waylon growled to himself, still leaning over the sink. He was still exhausted, the added stress not helping. He sighed going back to bed and covering himself to block the rising sun.

*a few hours later*

Waylon frowned as he felt himself being moved in his sleep. He didn’t want to wake up so Eddie could move them again. He ignored the light movement. He refused to get up till Eddie forced him up. The movement stopped and Waylon thought Eddie had given up.

Waylon became concerned when his face felt cold like ice. Becoming alarmed when that cold sensation was now feeling a bit suffocating. He opened his eyes, wrenching his head up to gasp in some air. Eddie was holding him under a shower head spraying freezing water down on his head.

“why did you do that!!!” Waylon snapped, wiping the water from his face. He expected Eddie to pull him off the bed to wake him up. Not put him in a freezing shower.

“you wouldn’t wake up.” Eddie said, holding Waylon up.

“that’s because I didn’t want to wake up.” Waylon grumbled.

“i tried for an hour. You had a serious fever.” Eddie said. That caught Waylons attention. He looked down and examined himself. His clothes were covered in a light sticky layer of sweat. Only the area around his head being soaked from the shower. He noticed the fever he had now. His skin felt on fire with no relenting moments from it. Eddie released him when he had his footing.

“iam going to get you medicine.” Eddie said. Waylon felt some panic about that.

“you cant go out there, Murkoffs here!!” Waylon said.

“your fevers high. If it doesn’t get better, you'll cook your own body. Take a cold shower while iam gone.” Eddie commanded as he left Waylon in the bathroom. Waylon couldn’t argue with that. It took a cold shower to wake him, he was wet with sweat and his skin felt on fire. After hearing the front door close, he stripped to take a cold shower.

He stayed in the shower for what felt like forever. He felt tired, light headed, and constantly thirsty. His burning skin felt unaffected by the water, still burning underneath the shower. To satisfy his thirst, he drank from the water pouring down on him. He thought it was a little disgusting, but it was better then guzzling there whole bottled water supply.

He looked away from the stream to the closed bathroom door. Waylon wondered where Eddie was and if he was okay. Something abnormal formed in the room. He didn’t catch it at first, his mind took a moment to recognize it. When he noticed he looked away from the door. next to the door, above the sink, was a mirror. In the mirror was a corpse resembling him.

Its skin was a sickly, pale, darkened green. The eyes were unseen in the black sunken in circles. Its face resembling more of a skull with its tight darkened skin. its whole body anorexic, bones pointing and gliding under tight skin. Its hair was dark and dull, somehow not falling out and sticking together.

Waylon stared at the creature in the mirror with wide eyes. The creature was looking away till Waylon looked at it too long. It turned its head to look at him with crackle noises of its neck moving. It looked at him and slowly opened its mouth with a threatening growl hiss. Inside its mouth were multiple sharp teeth and blackness. The skin on its cheeks splitting apart from the force of opening its jaws.

A scream got caught in Waylons parched throat. He jolted himself back against the other end of the tub/ shower. He hit the wall and hid behind the dark blue curtain at the end. He stayed still as he could, his body shaking with fear. He stayed there silently, listening to the sound of bones crackling and snapping. When the room went quiet, excluding the shower, he peeked out from the curtain side.

He was still shaking when he looked. He saw himself, looking at the mirror in the reflection. He let out a deep breath of relief to not see the decaying creature. He didn’t want to shower anymore, getting out quickly and changing. It didn’t take long for his body to sweat through the new clothes. He stayed in the bathroom, leaning over the sink.

He barely remembered getting changed and how, or why he was at the sink. He looked up at the mirror, staring at it for a moment. He heard something like a hiss and was startled. He looked around the room, fearing the creature returned. The hissing happened again, being more clearly this time. It was whispering.

Waylon listened, looking around in fear to find the source. The whispers slowly became clearer and clearer. He swallowed down what little was left of the moisture in his mouth.

“ what?” Waylon asked, feeling they were trying to say something important.

“its spreading … its spreading … its spreading ...” the voices whispered repeatedly. Waylon was going to ask them what was spreading, but stopped. He noticed something dark moving on the bottom of his arm. He turned it over, his stomach flipping when he saw darkness spreading through his veins and up his arm. Where it spread the skin turned into that sickened green the corpse was. He panicked, turning on the faucet, trying to scrub it away with hot water. It only slowed the spread.

“cut it out … the disease … cut it out …” the voices whispered. Waylon didn’t know what else to do. He ran into the main room to the backpack. he tossed things aside and out till he found his hunting knife. He returned to the bathroom, slightly happy to see the disease hadn’t spread much. With a shaky hand he started gouging into the infected area. He shredded through his arm, feeling no pain from it, watching red blood flow out and pour into the sink.

He frantically cut through more of it. He became hysterical as he saw the infection continued to spread up his arm. The whispering turning to yelling as it wanted the disease carved out. He began hyperventilate and was about to amputate his infected arm when a hand grabbed the knife away.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!” Eddie yelled at him, yanking the knife away and pinning him to the wall. He came into the bathroom, finding Waylon shredding his arm open. The whole white sink was coated in thick red blood, dripping off to the tiled floor. The walls were also splattered from Waylon yanking the knife out. It all looked like a murder scene happened.

“its spreading!! I have to cut it out!!” Waylon said being strongly upset that Eddie stopped him. He struggled and thrashed under Eddies hold.

“whats spreading?!” Eddie questioned, holding Waylon and keeping the knife far away from his reach. Waylon looked at his arms to say “that”, but went quiet as he saw no infection.

His arm was its normal skin color. The middle area down the bottom of his arm shredded open. There were long varying cuts that blood poured from. Waylon started to silently cry at he stared at the mutilation he just did. He wasn’t sure if the crying was caused by relief that the infection was gone, or from pain swarming in. he heard Eddie grumble something as he took him to the other room by his good arm.

He made Waylon sit on the bed and hold a towel to the bleeding wound. he sat quietly, staring at the bloody towel with a blank face, his mind void of thought. Eddie searched around the room for medical supply’s. Waylon tossed things all around the room and Eddie had to regather them.

Finding everything, Eddie treated Waylons mutilated arm. Cleaning it out and bandaging it. Waylon by his own stupid luck, missed the very important tendons in his arm. If those were damaged, his hand would have been useless. Eddie pulled out a bottle of medicine from his pocket, sitting next to the still blank Waylon. He read over instructions and poured a cap full of syrup. Eddie almost coughed from the strong smell as he gave it to Waylon.

“drink this.” Eddie commanded. Waylon stared at it blankly, unmoving. Eddie thought that Waylon didn’t understand him and was about to help him. Waylon poured all the medicine into his mouth with one large tilt of the cup. Waylon gagged on it almost spitting it out. Eddie grabbed his mouth, keeping it closed so he couldn’t spit.

“swallow it.” Eddie commanded with a growl. Waylon swallowed it down roughly, having a coughing fit after. Eddie picked him up again to move him back to the bathroom. He needed another cold shower to keep his fever down and to wash all the blood away.

Eddie will stay with him, not trusting Waylon to be good on his own. He stripped Waylon down with little struggle from him. The sickness and lack of blood making him a disoriented being. Able of doing only very simple tasks on his own. He left Waylon in the shower while he cleaned up the bloody sink area.