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hphmmatthewluther · 6 months

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Back By Midnight: Operation BULLSEYE - Part 4/4:

Previous chapters can be found here, here, and here!

It's here at last! The final chapter of this OPERATION is here! Writing this has been an amazing process over the last nine months and I'm so happy that so many people have enjoyed the spy au as much as I have!

Also, this story features characters from @akaisenhatake and @camillejeaneshphm!!

Taglist of peeps who might be interested (lemme know if you want to be added or removed!): @akaisenhatake @camillejeaneshphm @catohphm @fangirl-screaming @rosachaotic @ag907 @nikyiscreepy @oseathepebble

One other thing to note! From here on out, this story is going to be an original story, meaning the names of many characters have been changed. I'll be putting out a guide soon, but for now I hope you're able to figure out who's who!

Every few seconds, the wind whistled through the several bullet holes that were now scattered across the windows of the 28th floor of the building.A woman’s finger traced across one of them, the one closest to the lift. From there, she could see the position where the bullet had come from on the building opposite, as well as the flashing lights from the half a dozen police cars that had been summoned to the scene. She stepped away from the window, and over the dead body that was still lying there, blood soaking into the waxed floor. For a moment, she lingered, looking over the body and at the lift shaft, the doors having only now been fully deactivated.

Then, for a split second, she saw it there. The memory of a pale hand which had flashed the V sign at her, before clanging against the lift as it disappeared. She scowled at the memory, before only then realising what had caused the clang: a silver bracelet-looking thing on the person’s wrist. It could have been a watch, but she would have seen that from the position the hand was in. Her scowl softened for a moment. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

“Meredith!” came another woman’s voice from the open door. “In here, if you would.”

At once, Meredith Sharrow started down the corridor, as two people in forensic suits walked the other way towards the corpse. Before she went inside the room, she tried to get her face into a neutral expression, dusting down her black jacket and skirt and tidying her brown and orange hair, as well as getting any sleep out of her eyes, trying not to nudge her pink contacts. It was, after all, early in the morning by now. She came into the room, wondering why whoever this was couldn’t have broken into their London headquarters at a more reasonable time. But she couldn’t think about silly complaints like that right now. Not considering who had called her in.

Meredith stepped through into the room, just as sleek and modernist as the rest of the building, and was greeted by a woman in her early forties with long orange hair, and a long red overcoat. There was also a large sniper rifle in her right hand, which she promptly put down. Meredith nodded to her, hoping it didn’t look like too much of a bow. “...High Priestess.”

“Oh please, “Miss Warwick” will do just fine, Miss Sharrow.” Pamela Warwick closed the door behind her and gestured to the room. Just as there was in the corridor, several bullet holes were present in the glass. Others were in the room too; someone taking inventory of the items in the room, two men examining what looked like a small silver cuboid, and a police officer trying to talk to a blonde man shivering in a seat, his legs bouncing up and down.

“...Miss Warwick.” Meredith began, “Is this the Fool who was in the room with the intruder?”

“Indeed he was.” Warwick sighed, “The whole experience seems to have been a little too much for him.” her eyes darted to the side for a moment before continuing. “But he’s the only lead we’ve got, or more accurately, the only lead we have before Mr Wakabayashi shows up. He’s due back here in just a few minutes…though he will have to take the stairs.”

Meredith understood what Warwick was asking of her. Nodding once more, she made her way over to the police officer, who unlike this witness, was clearly no fool. She nodded to him and he returned the gesture, before making his way out of the room. The blonde mouse-faced man looked up at her. Meredith looked back down, and tried not to laugh.

“So…seems you’ve been through the wringer tonight, Mr…” she began taking a clipboard and pen in her hands, before looking to him for an answer. He looked up at her, his lip quivering. “Mr…” she repeated, tapping the pen against the plastic of the clipboard. That always hurried people up.

“I-I’m…I’m, b-, um…Benedict. Benedict Godwinson…i-it says over…” he pointed to the sign on his desk, which sure enough, had his name on it. Meredith scowled. How on earth had she missed that? She’d lost valuable seconds over this!

“Right, right…” she sighed, “now, getting to what you saw. Why did you let the intruder take the device?”

His eyes widened in fear. “I-I didn’t know! H-He said he was part of the IT Team, a-and Mr Wakabayashi wanted him to do some work on the device!”

Meredith rolled her eyes, overhearing that the man in question had arrived and was going up the stairs at this very moment. “Fine, fine…what gave him away? When did you realise he wasn’t who he said he was?”

“W-When the guard started banging on the door…h-he said he’d get us both…a-and I didn’t know what to do, but then…the intruder told me, he said to not worry and that it’d be ok.”

Meredith took a mental note of that, if not writing it out fully. Benedict made him sound like some kind of Gentleman Thief. She didn’t expect someone like that to actually exist. Looking down at the notes the police officer had taken, she saw a circled in bullet point that read “CAN NOT REMEMBER PHYSICAL APPEARANCE - PANIC?”. That didn’t help, but at least she knew not to ask. Suddenly, she heard footsteps growing louder and louder. “...Is there anything else you can remember? Anything at all?!”

Benedict shuddered as she asked the question, blinking rapidly. “I…I…I dunno, it was all so loud and disorienting with the bullets and the flashes, but…I do remember…he put his hand to his ear a lot of times.”

Bingo. One of the oldest mistakes in the book. It reminded Meredith of one of the Bond films, where someone Bond was working with gave themselves away by constantly pressing his earpiece. On a subconscious level, she’d already attached the word “spy” to whoever this intruder was. “...Very well. Thank you for your time…I imagine you’ll get some paid leave or something.” she said, smirking, before walking away and handing the clipboard to Warwick.

“Our intruder was cordial to a fault, able to get up here without anyone noticing, and had an earpiece. Which means this wasn’t a simple burglary.” Meredith reported, returning to her neutral expression once more.

Warwick took the clipboard and examined it, before stashing it away in her bag. “I assumed as much from where I was positioned, but it’s good to have proof. Well done.” she said, as the footsteps grew louder still. “Here he comes…keep an eye on the person with him. Looks to be a Chariot.”

Walking down the corridor (Meredith saw that the body had been marked out and moved) came Ryuji Wakabayashi, who’d for some reason not changed out of his white suit he’d been wearing when he left the building. Alongside him was a woman who looked similar to Warwick from afar, with the long ginger hair, but was younger, only about Ryuji’s age. Meredith bit her lip when she saw how the trip up the stairs had tired the man. It made rushing to interrogate that mouse-faced man well worth it.

“High Priestess,” he said, nodding. “...Meredith.”

“Ryuji.” Meredith said curtly, gesturing to Benedict. “Might want to hold off on the ranks for just a moment, though.”

Ryuji craned his neck into the room, seeing Benedict still sitting there. “Oh, that fool…” he muttered, before clearing his throat. “Godwinson, you can go now, thank you.”

Benedict shot up, nodding, before leaving. “Th-thank you, Mr Wakabayashi, I-I’ll be off…” he whimpered, heading out, realising the lift was out, and rushing down the stairs.

Pamela cleared her throat. “Now we’re all here, we can get down to business.” She led them all into the room. Meredith watched as Ryuji frowned at the bullet holes and the missing ID machine. “...To start with, I can’t be the only one who thinks this was connected to what we all bar this Chariot here did yesterday.”

Ryuji wore an unmoving frown. “Why? We’ve done this dozens of times now, and we made sure to purge any data MI6 might have got, just like we always do.” he pointed out. “What’s so different this time?” he clicked his tongue as he wandered around the room. “And it was only the machine that was taken?”

Meredith nodded. “Correct. The intruder came here looking for the machine specifically, it would seem.”

The Chariot cleared her throat. “What’s more, there was a breach of the building’s mainframe at the same time as the intruder was in the building. All footage and data from that time is corrupted.” she reported.

“Thank you, Miss Campbell.” Ryuji said through gritted teeth. “This is all irrelevant, however, in the wake of the fact that this intruder succeeded. The fact that the only resistance they met along the way was one Minor Arcana. Well, and you, High Priestess.”

“That was only by chance.” Warwick pointed out. “There wasn’t much I could do considering I was shooting across a road at someone I couldn’t fully see. Believe me when I say you do not want to play the blame game with me. Especially not when we have a perfectly good deceased person to place the blame on.”

“Someone you shot.” Ryuji retorted. “But I suppose you’re right. You know that…he…doesn’t like infighting.”

“If that’s the case, he doesn’t like most people in Reflection.” Meredith muttered, causing Warwick to chuckle.

“Very witty, Miss Sharrow. A little surprising too, seeing as-” she looked like she was about to say something more, but each of them felt their phones buzz. They all took them out, and Meredith knew that each one had received the same message:

You are summoned to the Tower. Please arrive promptly. A meeting of the Senior Ranks will be held in response to recent developments with Operation TEMPERANCE.

Ryuji kept his face still. “Like we said, blame the corpse. Come along, we’ll take my jet.” He said, beckoning Miss Campbell and turning to leave. Before he went down the corridor, however, he turned to Warwick and Meredith. “Well? Coming?”

The two still in the room looked at each other before looking at Ryuji. “Really? In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never invited us to fly with you.” Meredith observed. “What gives?”

“What gives is that the High Priestess and I have to work out a convincing story to tell at this meeting, and you’ll need to be there too in case anybody asks you.” Ryuji explained.

Pamela sighed, before relenting and walking out the door. Ryuji turned to Meredith once more. “Come on. I don’t want to have to pull rank on you.”

“Bull.” Meredith hissed under her breath, grabbing Warwick’s sniper rifle and bag for her, making sure that the clipboard was still inside. As she left, she took one last look at the room, visualising the thief walking in, grabbing the device, knowing there was a chip to remove, ducking down, blinding the guard, escaping down the corridor. Another word for the intruder was very quickly replacing the word “thief” in her head. Apart from the word “arsehole”, that is.

***

For Meredith, the time between leaving the room and boarding the jet felt like nothing. Before she knew it, they had taken off from London City Airport (the area for private jets, not the bit everyone else went through). At least the jet lag wouldn’t be too bad when they landed; they’d be arriving at around 8pm local time and so would be able to more or less keep their body clocks stable. That didn’t concern Meredith, necessarily, but it was clear that it meant far more for Ryuji, who seemed even more irritable than usual, to the point that when the Chariot, who Meredith now knew to be Nessa Campbell (who happened to be flying the plane) described his anger as “needing his beauty sleep”, Ryuji simply got up and walked away from the others without a word.

“Typical.” Nessa sighed, returning her attention to the myriad controls in front of her. “I haven’t even flicked the “seatbelts off” sign.” A few moments later, she did, taking a moment to look at the door Ryuji had gone through before rolling her eyes and returning to her task at hand.

Meredith would have joined in on insulting Ryuji, but Warwick shot a pointed look at her. “Don’t be so quick to point and laugh, Miss Sharrow.” she said, examining the clipboard Meredith had procured for her earlier, “As the overseer of this Operation, the Lovers Wakabayashi will be the one covering for all of us. It’s a lot of pressure, something you may one day realise if you ever get promoted to a Senior Rank.” Meredith leant forward a little when she mentioned promotions. Warwick simply smiled back. “You’ve only recently been promoted from the rank of Devil, correct?”

Meredith nodded in reply. “Yes…this is my first assignment as a Hanged Man, Miss Warwick.”

“And you’ve done remarkably well. I imagine the Empress will be most pleased.” she reassured her, though she didn’t look up from the clipboard. “What did you mean here by “had help”? What gave you that idea?”

“The witness said that the intruder put his hand to his ear several times.” Meredith explained. “It would explain how the data became corrupted the very moment he stepped foot in the building and how he got away so quickly, especially when you consider…” she trailed off for a moment as she thought through what she was about to say, and whether it might get her in deep trouble.

“Considering what?” Warwick asked, finally looking up at her.

Meredith gulped silently. “Considering your testimony, where you said a loud car horn caused a distraction allowing him to leave your crosshair. And then there’s the fact that he couldn’t have fled the scene on foot…” she looked over to Nessa’s tablet, still open on the scrambled data. “Miss Campbell, would you mind if I borrowed your tablet for a moment?”

The Chariot nodded. “Of course, Hanged Man. It’s completely at your disposal.” she said, a phrase she knew off by heart by now.

Snatching up the tablet, Meredith began tapping away at the screen, flicking through various collated files on the incident. “All this stuff on cybersecurity…maybe the reason they could get in isn’t in the code, but instead…ah ha!” she minimised the tabs on firewalls and fibre optics and opened up another folder of corrupted video footage. “Look, Miss Warwick, the CCTV footage from the surrounding traffic lights is gone too, in the exact same style, but for about a minute or two longer than inside the building. Our intruder can’t have done it alone, the timing of the corruption simply doesn't add up.”

Warwick nodded, leaning back on her chair. “That certainly is a wrinkle. Especially when you consider mine and Wakabayashi’s shared conclusions on tonight's events.”

Meredith stayed very still, unsure whether Warwick was upset with the conclusion she’d reached, or angry, or wanted to erase any trace of it, or anything else. “Your conclusions, Miss Warwick?”

“Indeed. He may be in denial about it, but the famed “Byakko of Ice” knows when not to ignore a coincidence. I looked back at the aftermath of our explosive outing this afternoon and was surprised to discover that it was an ambulance that first came to the scene. Not the fire brigade, as any witnesses outside might have called for, but an ambulance. And the only way that could be the case is if someone inside had not been killed, merely injured.”

Meredith nodded, digesting this information. “...So the MI6 agent we wanted to take out…he survived, got medical attention, and came back to get revenge?”

“Perhaps, or maybe he contacted someone and they did it for him. Even before this, I had a strange feeling when we found the MI6 location in that old building. It was a far too aggressive move for them, and we should have known about it sooner. Perhaps our intelligence system simply missed it, deemed it too unimportant.”

“...Perhaps.” Meredith put down the tablet, and looking out the window watched as the jet flew across the Pacific Ocean. She got the nasty feeling that they were almost there, made even worse by the fact that she felt like she was missing something obvious. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the jet was truly starting to descend, landing upon an airstrip surrounded by watchtowers, with military vehicles patrolling to boot. Home sweet home. They had their IDs and cards checked before being escorted onto one of the Jeeps, which sped out of the runway and down a long, winding road towards the more built up part of the island. Eventually, the Jeeps slowed down near a busy junction, which happened to be just a few metres away from the turnoff to The Tower.

“This always happens…” Ryuji groaned, rolling his eyes as the tourists in rental cars as well as some permanent residents drove past, no care for the fact that they had right of way, or that they more or less owned the island.

Meredith was growing more restless by the second, the stress of everything that had happened as well as the fact that a Meeting had been called all weighing on her brain. “...For god’s sake! Can’t they install traffic lights, or a roundabout, or something?!” she said, slamming her head back against her seat in frustration. Warwick merely watched on, with a slight amount of amusement on her face.

“Patience, Miss Sharrow. This junction always takes time, it’s the way the island-” but to her surprise, someone had actually stopped. Meredith leant out of the window to see a middle-aged man in a floral t-shirt and sunglasses (despite it being night) in an open-top expensive looking car. He smiled and gestured for the jeeps, and the drivers, seemingly surprised, took a moment to begin moving again. Meredith tried not to stare too much, but it was difficult for some reason. She needed that structure and order in her life again, the type that Reflection was normally so good at enforcing. Thankfully for her, the Tower was the best place for this.

The skyscraper stuck out like an incredibly sore thumb, towering over everything else on the Island. It was a miracle the land didn’t tilt slightly, Meredith thought to herself as they stepped out onto elegant red carpets with a golden zigzagged lining around the edges, leading up twin sets of stairs between three bronze fountains. Above the automatic doors which led into the reception area was that large red logo once more, the snake looming overhead as the group walked in. They were at once met by a group of people in white shirts and black waistcoats, who looked to Meredith like fools.

“Welcome to Reflection.” The one in front began, bowing slightly. “You’re just in time, Miss Warwick, Mr Wakabayashi, you’re both just in time for the meeting. I have also been told that Miss Sharrow and Miss Campbell have been invited to relax in the waiting area outside until the meeting comes to an end. Please, follow me.”

Meredith kept moving forward, down a corridor and into a lift, even if her legs were telling her to turn and run. But she couldn’t afford to look weak, especially not in front of Warwick or Ryuji, as the former would never respect her, and the latter would absolutely go straight to her aunt about it. Their guide pressed one of the uppermost buttons, before quickly stepping out and letting the lifts scarlet and gold doors close. The occupants of the lift turned to each other.

“It appears that all of the higher-ups and representatives have been called.” Nessa said, reading off of her tablet. “...Doesn’t look like we will be late, fortunately.”

“I’ll be sure to let your aunt know you’re here, Meredith.” Ryuji droned, pushing his dark hair up slightly. “She may want a word, after all.”

To Meredith’s surprise, it was Warwick who spoke next. “Actually, Meredith pointed something out rather interesting to me whilst on the plane here. It should be on the Chariot’s tablet, and might come in handy when explaining our side of the story.”

Meredith merely nodded. “I’m glad I could assist, even if I’m not able to attend the meeting.”

Ryuji looked like he wanted to retort, but was interrupted by Warwick. “Look, you two can stop acting so formal, especially since we’re working together to save our careers. I’m aware you two have something of a rivalry, something about often being in the same division as you’ve worked your ways up.” she said, allowing herself to smile at the two and their shocked expressions. Meredith thought that she did pretty well, at least she didn’t drop her jaw like Ryuji did. “Yes, yes, I’ve done my research, as I do on everyone I work with.”

Time passed as the High Priestess and the Lovers discussed their story, the Chariot busy on her tablet, leaving the Hanged Man feeling like the world was turning upside down. Looking around, they thought back to the much less elegant and decorated lift in the building in London, how that pale hand had emerged to disrespect her before descending with the lift. The hand of a spy, with a silver bracelet…but why was it up there in the first place? Her eyes widened as her memory corrected itself, the presence of a card held by the hand whilst doing the two-finger salute now restored. Why? Her first thought was as a trophy, but then judging by what she knew about him, it somehow didn’t seem right. In her head, it all rested on whether or not the spy had broken in as a direct result of what had happened earlier that day or not.

Suddenly, the lift doors opened out into a smallish room with three doors, the left and right ones leading out into a balcony area. The group continued forward through the other door, into a room with red carpet and a few plants, as well as a pair of ornate double doors, covered in gold that snaked across their surface. Warwick gestured to the red velvet seats that dotted the room. “Chariot, Hanged Man, wait here. These meetings normally don’t go on for too long, but considering the circumstances…well. There are some magazines available.” she pointed over to a pile on a table near the wall. Without another word, she opened the grand doors, walking inside.

Ryuji took another look at Nessa and Meredith. “...You saw something in the smoke, didn’t you?” he asked the latter. “...Be very careful. When you get this high up, you’ll realise there are no such things as secrets.”

Meredith showed no reaction. “You have a meeting to get to, and a missing ID machine to explain.” she said simply, sitting down and grabbing one of the magazines. They were all almost a decade out of date, and some of them, she noticed, seemed to be for younger children. Ryuji turned towards the door which Warwick was holding open for him and left the room, the door closing behind the two with a loud slam.

Meredith turned to Nessa, but she was on the other side of the room, her back turned, busy on her tablet. She leant back, remembering her time as a Chariot. It had been a lot of work, chauffeuring higher-ups around as well as monitoring the armoury and vehicles the company had at its disposal, as well as dealing for said arms and vehicles. Nessa likely didn’t also have the advantage of having an aunt who was a higher-up. It was then that she heard voices from within the other room.

“...is it true?”

“Hey, save it for the meeting, you know the rules.”

“What? I’m allowed to ask a little, aren’t I?”

Meredith blinked. Nobody below a Lovers rank was allowed to even know what happened in the Meetings. The room was supposed to be soundproofed, or so she’d heard. She very slowly tilted her head so her ear was closer to the wall, before immediately turning around when the door to the room with the lift opened. Her hand went to her gun on instinct when she saw the hooded figure, but didn’t pull it out. This was good, because on closer inspection this was one of the higher-ups. Although, admittedly, they weren’t exactly dressed like other agents.

His “hood” was in fact a medical fabric of some kind that covered a fully bandaged face, the mouth covered and the eyes dimmed under the layers of bandages. Below that was a formal suit with a green handkerchief in the pocket. He was eerily still, standing in the doorway for a moment, before turning to Meredith. “Pardon me. Has the meeting begun yet?”

Nessa and Meredith stared at each other for a moment. “N-no, I don’t think so.” Meredith stammered, not making direct eye contact with the masked figure, who merely nodded in response.

“Good, good…” he nodded at the both of them before walking forward, absent-mindedly scratching the wrapping below his right eye with one hand as he yanked open the door and walked into the meeting room, closing the door without a slam this time. Meredith sunk back into her seat, taking her hand off of her gun. There were certain divisions that kept to themselves, and you didn’t go near if you valued your life or career. The Moon Division, the area of expertise for deep cover operatives, was one of those divisions. They were higher-ups, but since they couldn’t send all of them to a meeting they had a representative who went instead. They called the guy who represented the Moon Division “Mr Nobody”. She’d always wanted to know why.

Nessa now had her eyes on her tablet again. Meredith leant right back against the wall, shutting her eyes as if she’d fallen asleep after a long flight. She concentrated on whatever slight fault there was in the walls of The Tower, and listened.

***

Meredith didn’t know what the room looked like, but from her aunt she’d heard that it was exceptionally elegant but dimly lit, with a long table in the middle that stopped at the far wall, on which was a large carving. It sounded too fantastical to be true, but when she’d peeked through the door when Mr Nobody stepped through that was exactly what she had seen. Without any visuals, her mind began to fill in the blanks

The meeting room was silent now, all gossip now spent. The higher-ups took their places, Warwick separating from Ryuji to sit further down the table. Ryuji, meanwhile, took his seat among the three other Lovers. He looked between them all, knowing them all fairly well: Estevao Raphael, who was currently scowling at the table, Lauren Brayden, who was savouring the last few seconds in which she was allowed to use her phone, and Pascal Brunel, who looked like he wished he had some popcorn. Meredith didn’t blame him. The most senior of the Lovers, Pascal had made no attempts to get a promotion, seemingly enjoying his position at the lower end of the top. Meredith had never understood his mindset, nor why he was allowed to keep his position, but at least he seemed to be happier than most people in the room.

The room was now silent. A side door had been opened, and out stepped a woman with brown hair in a red version of the clothes the receptionists had been wearing. This was no clueless fool, however, but a member of the island’s permanent staff, who also happened to be in charge of enforcement. The person in the seat Meredith imagined herself sitting in, Ryuji, looked down the long table. The Judgement representative walked past him and the rest of the Lovers, past Mr Nobody, past a woman in a lab coat, a man in a wheelchair with several sheets of paper in front of him, past Warwick, and past the two at the very end of the far edges of the table. He knew them very well indeed. On the right sat Maverick Cunningham, a middle-aged man with black hair in a quiff that made him look like if Elvis took up arms dealing. On the left was a woman around the same age as Cunningham wearing a deep purple overcoat. This was Vivian Sharrow.

Thus sat the highest ranking officials of Reflection, an organisation which seemingly found being a pharmaceutical company not thrilling enough, and decided to branch out into having hidden influence in every industry, especially the criminal industry. Maverick and Vivian, the Emperor and the Empress, turned to the large engraving on the wall. It depicted a man in robes with his right arm up holding a candle that burned at both ends, surrounded by a sword, cup, wand, and pentacle. Above its head was the symbol of infinity, and above that was the roman numeral I.

The Judgement representative cleared her throat. “May I have your attention. Presenting the Magician, who calls this meeting to order.”

The giant monolith carved into the wall began to hum, and the outline of the Magician began to glow a neon red. A few seconds passed, and each Reflection member took out their card and placed it on the table in front of them. Ryuji did the same, taking a moment to look down at the card. It had always seemed rather strange to Meredith that he carried an image of two naked people as identification, but her mind was nowhere near that now. Soon enough, a voice emerged from within the carved wall.

“Welcome, my good friends.” the voice boomed. Meredith had expected a loud and deep voice, but instead it sounded rather calm and neutral. “I do apologise for calling all of you here, but I am afraid that the topic of this meeting is too important to avoid or to send in a simple message. To begin with, I must inform you all of the death of the Knight of Swords. His efforts to aid Reflection will be missed. I leave finding a suitable replacement for the position to the Empress.”

Meredith imagined her aunt nodding dutifully. “Thank you, Magician.”

The voice continued. “The more unfortunate news comes from the reason he was killed, and why I have summoned you all here. High Priestess, if you would brief the others on tonight’s events?”

Meredith heard a chair move as Warwick stood up. “At approximately 10 pm local time, an unknown intruder was found on the 28th floor of Reflection International’s London Headquarters. Entering through unknown means, he walked into the office on the floor, posing as an IT worker to an employee, before taking hold of an experimental identification device, codename T-LD…” Warwick explained. She took a pause for a moment. Meredith knew why. She was about to mention her role. “...At which time I, on the opposite building conducting a routine inspection, spotted the intruder and proceeded to prepare for elimination.”

“It was here that I called for security.” she continued. “The Knight of Swords was the first to arrive at the office, which the intruder had locked. The Knight proceeded to attempt to kick the door down, shouting threats to both the intruder and the employee.”

Meredith allowed herself to smile. Already, she was beginning to pin the blame on the deceased agent. “The Knight persisted in knocking and yelling, though that was not what allowed the intruder to escape my line of sight with the T-LD. Instead…it would appear that the intruder had one or more accomplices who created a distraction to allow the intruder a window to duck down, and was likely to be intentional as evidenced by the deletion of traffic light CCTV footage, as identified by a Hanged Man within the tower at the time, Meredith Sharrow.”

Meredith tried not to move her face too much. Getting mentioned in a Meeting like that, and by Pamela Warwick of all people? No wonder they didn’t let the lower-downs hear what happened, if she knew she’d been name-dropped she’d never shut up about it. As she had been thinking about this, Warwick had continued, moving on to the lift shaft.

“...the Knight then proceeded to engage the intruder within the lift shaft, making clear his knowledge of the fact that I would fire at whatever emerged from the lift doors. In spite of this, however, he was unable to apprehend the intruder. We believe they used a metallic weapon to strike the Knight, causing him to topple out of the doors and into the line of fire. He fully understood the level of efficiency needed, and failed. I shot the first thing that emerged from the lift shaft, as agreed.”

She couldn’t measure their expressions, but somehow Meredith knew that Warwick had quite literally got away with murder. Still, the mention of a metallic weapon…the way the metal thing on his wrist had bumped against the lift…it was so simple, and yet…Meredith then realised she should be focusing on the top-secret meeting. “...and escaped with the machine. I immediately arrived at the building, followed soon after by the Lovers and the Chariot driving him.”

There was a silence as all of this was taken in, as if it was being judged. “...thank you, High Priestess. Does anyone here have any objections to her telling of tonight’s events?” the Magician asked the table.

If they did, nobody said anything. “Very well. It pains me to discover that the Minor Arcana are unable to work under the efficient conditions of those with higher ranks. Perhaps we may need to revisit our training regimen to see what is needed. Emperor, you are in charge of this area. What would you say the priorities of the training are? What blind spot might need dealing with?”

Maverick cleared his throat, before beginning to speak in that smug voice of his. “Our training regimen is one of, if not the best in the world, Magician. It forces those who hope to improve to be ruthless and efficient in their tasks, to remain detached from anything that might bring them down, and to work in the modern world of private military affairs.”

“The modern world…I see…” the Magician hummed for a moment, as did Meredith. Why did this spy not seem to fit the many other mercenaries or opponents she’d come across? Why did she keep calling him a spy? It hit her then, though it seemed to elude the Magician. “Well, in any case, work to make sure the Minor Arcana are ready to enter the higher ranks.”

“Thank you, sir.” Maverick said, glad not to have been reprimanded.

“But now comes the larger question, my friends. What are we to do about our missing machine? Lovers agent Wakabayashi-” the Magician said, Meredith knowing that all eyes were now on Ryuji. “What say you on the theft of the machine you were testing? What might happen to the project?”

Ryuji took a breath. “I don’t believe it is any sign of weakness for the project. It is not as if, after all, it was a failure. In fact it was responsible for dozens of successful identifications and subsequent assassinations during its testing phase. Perhaps we were a little public with it-”

“A little?” Pascal asked, chuckling. “You blew up three floors of a building! You call that “little”?”

Ryuji stumbled over his words for a second but quickly recovered. “Such eliminations had been done before, and caused no problems like this. The problem is not with the machine, I cannot emphasise this enough.”

“...I agree.” the Magician said, bluntly. “And Lovers agent Brunel, while your point is valid, I do think there is an explanation for it. Perhaps, after the downfall of our last project, we were too cautious of further failure, hence why Project Temperance has been in testing for so long. Long enough for somebody to begin identifying a pattern.”

It was as if in her head the carving was moving, swooping across the room, gazing at each and every member present with its unmoving red eyes. “We have not suffered a failure like this since Project Strength. Our caution, our need to keep things hidden, has led to critical exposures. But we cannot, and will not, keep Project Temperance secret for long. Wheel of Fortune!”

The man in the wheelchair cleared his throat. “Yes, Magician?”

“...How’s our budget looking?”

There was a rustling of papers and typing on a laptop. Meredith hadn’t expected the Wheel of Fortune to be allowed a laptop, though she supposed it made sense, considering how much financial information was digital and/or encrypted. “We have had an excellent year, and stand to make record profits as per usual, leaving us with a more-than-healthy 40% surplus for use if and when needed.”

“Good.” the Magician said with a sinister edge, as if that information gave him the key to some ultimate doomsday weapon. “I am proposing that we accelerate Project Temperance. The T-LD shall be replicated, developed, and improved. We will make the necessary connections, eliminations, and deals. We will be ready to deploy the Project worldwide in…ooh, let’s make it…six months?”

There was a brief murmur. Nobody had seen the Magician like this before. It was as if, like Meredith, they had taken the theft personally. Nobody steals from Reflection and dares to taunt them too. It made her desire to become a higher-up even more strong.

“Oh, worry not, friends. I am quite confident you will all manage. We talk of the projects being far off dreams, but here? A machine so successful someone had to steal it?! We will hit back, and whoever they are, they will see just how small they are in comparison to us. How…out of place they are in our world. This is why you are called here. Tonight we being organising Project: TEMPERANCE.”

Meredith’s mind drifted as the meeting turned to discussions of targets and quotas. Nobody heard much about the Projects. They were worked on by the higher-up Divisions, though sometimes lower-downs were called on to assist in testing, like Meredith had been here. She also knew that the last project had failed, and the Magician had punished her aunt and the Emperor for it, giving the role of overseeing Project testing to the Lovers. This meant two things: firstly, that her aunt would see this as an excellent opportunity to please the Magician and redeem the Sharrow name, and secondly that Ryuji was going to be unbearable about it. But it wasn’t all misery in her mind. The spy…it was more than a fluke, or a bluff, or boast. It was indeed out of place. And she knew why.

***

Before long, the meeting had ended, and the higher-ups emerged. The Empress walked out, and over to her niece. “There you are. Thank you for waiting patiently and not causing a fuss.”

“...I am not a child anymore, Aunt Vivian.” Meredith said, not looking up.

“That remains to be seen. Come along, I’ve managed to book you a room here.” she said as if it came at great personal sacrifice to her.

“...” Meredith was going to say something back, but noticed Warwick and Ryuji walking out too. “Just one moment, it won’t take long-”

“Meredith!-” Vivian began, not continuing the sentence as she watched her niece approach Warwick.

“Ah, Miss Sharrow, and the nicer one of the two, I might add. How may I help?” she asked, smirking, as if she knew Meredith wanted to get away from the Empress.

“I was thinking about the intruder…and, well…it might sound odd, but I was thinking about…why he feels so…odd.”

“Odd how?” Ryuji asked. They had gone out one of the side doors onto the balcony, looking out over the ocean, tree-covered areas (Meredith was unsure if they were jungles, or forests, or something else) and the tourist towns down below. “You mean sort of…out of place?”

“Exactly!” Meredith said, acting like she’d not heard those words used to describe it. “I think…well, I think of him as a spy.”

Warwick raised a ginger eyebrow. “A spy, hm? As a sort of “character” we can make assumptions out of?”

Ryuji rolled his eyes. “With respect, Meredith, and the fact that this matter is now with the higher-ups, I don’t imagine you need to worry about that intruder for much longer. Not when the new assignments come in.”

Meredith couldn’t help it. She scowled at him. “Listen! He’s a spy, right? Like a classic secret agent! None of this cyber-nonsense, or this far-off “eliminations”, or jobs done by hitmen, but a spy. You send one person who is skilled enough to more or less convince you to give what he wants over to you, uses gadgets, isn’t afraid to get physical…oh, come on! Isn’t it at least plausible that someone out there does things the old way?”

Warwick considered this. “A fascinating hypothesis, Miss Sharrow. A “spy”, someone who can miraculously survive explosions, sneak into buildings, and more…It makes for a compelling adversary.”

Ryuji simply scoffed once more. “Speculate all you like. I have business to attend to. Nessa, let’s go, my workload has almost quadrupled.” he said matter-of-factly, walking away with Nessa behind him, offering a quick wave to Meredith before leaving.

Warwick smiled at Meredith. “I’ll walk you to your room. The lift will be packed with everyone trying to get out, you need to tell me more about this spy idea, and…” her smile changed a little, to show something other than kindness. “There are some parts of the Tower best avoided.”

They walked out from the balcony and down the stairs, past floors that Warwick pushed Meredith away from, presumably where they tested other projects. A faint part of her wondered if Project Temperance started its life here too. She found herself clinging to her tarot card. Taking it out, she turned it over to reveal the Hanged Man, dangling there upside-down by the foot, as if by some strange magic he had swapped his neck for his ankle. She looked at the card, imagined the spy in the same position, and smiled. She’d never believed in Tarot, but somehow she felt her future was brighter than ever.

#hphm #back by midnight #hphm spy au #meredith sharrow #merula snyde #pamela warwick #patricia rakepick #ryuji wakabayashi #nessa campbell #benedict godwinson #ben copper

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that-innovating-artist · 2 years

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TITH || Chapter Zero: Darkness

Synopsis: Lydia reflects on her life. | Total number of words: 1.2k.

Navigation Key: §§§ = continuing from previous scene; still takes place in the same location. ☆☆☆ = location change. (The place will be stated.) ~~~ = POV shifts.

~ OFFICIALLY PROOFREAD! ~

**Please do not transfer or translate my writings anywhere! However, you may Repost, as that would help me out a lot!**

Hawkins, Indiana • Forest Hills Trailer Park [Zonoff Trailer]

March 20th, 1986

If you asked me what life is like not knowing who your father is, I’d say it’s a frequently asked inquiry always nagging at your soul that constantly rejuvenates the motivation to find the explanation when you feel as though you’ll never unearth the answer. For the past five years, I have asked myself that question that lives in my subconscious. I’m keenly aware I have a father and have asked my mother about him, but she won’t supply me with the answers I so desperately want to know. Did he care for my Mom? Did he have good intentions? Was I born out of love or born under a circumstance that a man should never do to a woman? She brought to light some stories about her previous job as an Orderly at Hawkins Lab and claimed that’s how she met my father who was a fellow Orderly. She told me that the doctor operating Project MKUltra strictly prohibited romantic relationships between colleagues.

But as time went on, she continuously ran towards the man and eventually got pregnant. However, a test subject went crazy and slaughtered everyone in the Lab, including her lover. When she realized she wasn’t safe anymore, she moved to the outskirts of Hawkins and raised me. I sometimes like to imagine what my father looked like. Did he have blonde hair like mine? My mother has dark brown hair, and I do have very defined highlights that certainly came from her genes. I also have broad cheeks, creamy-blue eyes, mildly stout lips, and a sharp nose. Did he look somewhat similar to me?

It’s a shame I can’t just see a picture of him. I’m almost positive my Mom has a photo or two shoved somewhere in this jumbled piece of garbage trailer. Sighing, I got out of my chair and grasped my empty, yellow-crusted bowl of Mac ‘N Cheese. Bon Jovi’s ‘Runaway’ played in my ears as I cleaned my dish and gently bobbed my head to the rhythm.

(All your life) all your life you’ve asked

When’s your Daddy’s gonna talk to you?

But you were living in another world

Tryin’ to get your message through

No one heard a single word you said

They should’ve seen it in your eyes

What was going around your head… — Bon Jovi; Runaway.

“Baby, did you take the trash out?” My Mom asked as she entered the kitchen. I glanced at her as I fully turned around. “No.”

“Can you, sweetheart? I have to head to work.”

I smiled, nodding. “Yeah. Sure.”

Oh, she’s a little runaway

Daddy’s girl learned fast

All those things he couldn’t say

Oh, she’s a little runaway… — Bon Jovi; Runaway. (Cont.)

She approached me with a grin, and I tried to compose myself as I noticed the dark, coarse bags under her eyes and her disheveled hair. She clearly wasn’t taking care of herself and I knew why, but I remained silent. I embraced her in a hug tightly, closing my eyes and enjoying the tranquil moment of respite.

@danni-fangirldoodles

§§§

You know she likes the lights

At night on the neon Broadway signs

And she don’t really mind

It’s only love she hoped to find

Oh, she’s a little runaway

Daddy’s girl learned fast

All those things he couldn’t say

Ooh, she’s a little runaway… — Bon Jovi; Runaway. (Cont.)

It was five o’clock at night when I slammed my binder down on the coffee table, the homework assignment breezing off. Exasperating, I stood up and exited the trailer, my Walkman attached to my belt.

Oh, she’s a little runaway

Daddy’s girl learned fast

All those things he couldn’t say

Ooh, she’s a little runaway… — Bon Jovi; Runaway. (Cont.)

The Sun was shining and magenta, orange, and pink hues extended southward like a human hand. The clouds were puffy and the birdsong emitting from the forest beyond created a true feeling of serenity. Around me, in the grass, dandelions were blossoming in diminutive assemblages, adding to the distinct pigment difference between the pine green silage and the radiant yellow weeds. I glanced around the trailer park. On the left to me was the Mayfield Trailer, and to the right of me was the Munson Trailer. Munson. Good Lord. That trailer was always blasting clangorous and irritating music like Iron Maiden, Metallica, and all those odd heavy metal bands.

Or as my Mom would dub them, ‘screaming bands’. It was because of Eddie Munson, the boy who was twenty and still in High School. Though it may sound like we hate each other, I adore him very much. He has become a good friend to me. Eddie didn’t give a shit about his academic performance or grades. All he cared about was the Hellfire Club, the Hawkins High’s Dungeons and Dragons group. He was the leader, or, according to Dustin and Mike, the ‘Dungeon Master’. I never really understood their obsession with that game.

It might’ve been entertaining for them, but not for me. I don’t think I’d have the forbearance to sit completely through a ten or fifteen-hour campaign non-stop. I have better things to do with my life. Like finding the answer to the ‘who is my father?’ mystery. Anyway, Eddie Munson was well-known around Hawkins High. With his predominant rivalry against Jason Carver, he made High School worse for everyone. He would get all insolent around the Basketball Team and did whatever it took to piss off Jason, their Captain. While those assholes did not intimidate him, it was still absurd.

Their vendetta was your traditional ‘freak versus jock’ or ‘jock versus nerd’ type of situation. He made his altercations at lunch and was always stirring up trouble. He nearly got into a fistfight with Jason last year in the cafeteria, but the Assistant Principal interfered and sent them both to the office. They then accumulated a week of after-school detention. There was a rumor wafting around that he and Chrissy Cunningham, the High School’s head leader of the Cheerleading Team, were dating. However, to outsiders like me, that made no sense. A Cheerleader and a Freak? A poor boy and a rich girl?

Together? No way. Can’t happen, has never happened, and won’t happen. Talk about something scandalous. I sat down on one of the chairs my Mom and I had placed out from the night before. The ashes of the undersized fire we burned in the pit still coated that area of the ground like dots of sand located a couple of feet from the door. My legs bounced, and I fiddled with the cord attached from the headphones to the Walkman. Sighing, unwinding into the chair, and glancing up at the sky.

The shade from the awning provided shelter from the Sun’s blazing rays. A delicate breeze swept through the campsite-like settlement and strands of my hair swayed. I closed my eyes, enjoying the freshness of the air. Winter was finally coming to an end, and I yearned for the upcoming hot weather. It was probably in the low seventies right now. I couldn’t wait for the days to come when the temperatures soared to ninety degrees. I slanted back, angling my spine to fit comfortably on the aluminum chair. Closing my eyes, I let the music invade my mind and somnolence take over…

Oh, she’s a little runaway

Daddy’s girl learned fast

All those things he couldn’t say

Ooh, she’s a little runaway… — Bon Jovi; Runaway. (Cont.)

#Duffer Brothers #Hawkins Indiana #Lydia Zonoff #My writing #Netflix Original Series #Netflix #Stranger Things 4 #Writers on Tumblr

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amorbinders · 2 years

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Tomorrow is the last day of Disability Pride Month, but let’s not stop celebrating disability and the diversity it brings. Let’s continue to uplift disabled people and celebrate disabled joy - each and every day. Let’s continue working to build a world where inclusivity and accessibility are so much a part of everything we do that they don’t even need a special mention.  Did you know that Amor Binders is disabled owned and operated? Yep! Our founder, Andy - the person behind the scenes doing all the things - has multiple intersecting disabilities. Andy is loudly and proudly disabled, and is here doing everything they do, not despite of but because of their disabilities. 💞  As a disabled owned brand we pride ourselves on being inclusive and accessible, and are committed to doing everything we can to support and uplift our disabled trans and gender diverse community, not just during Disability Pride Month, but every month.  [Image Description: Mini, a black non binary person is wearing a pastel green binder and an orange Durag with a pink clip over their curly brown hair. Mini is has their head tilted back with a big smile on their face.] #SensoryFriendly #NonBinaryCuties #ChestBinder #ChestBinding #BinderBabe #AutisticAndTrans #AmorBinders #TransOwnedBusiness #SizeInclusive #NonBinaryFashion #TransAustralia #Neurodivergent #NonBinaryFashion #DisabledOwnedBusiness #ActuallyAutistic #TransMasc #SafeBinding #SmallBusiness #SupportSmallBusiness #SupportLocal #AutisticOwned #DisabledOwned #DisabilityPride #DisabilityPrideMonth #SensoryFriendlyClothing https://www.instagram.com/p/CgojGiqlfhO/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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russiandoll-from-brooklyn · 3 years

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Just Once - Part 2

Title: Just Once - Part 2

Some of y'all were asking for Part 2 of Just Once so here ya go! This picks up right after the first story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x fem!reader

Summary: Grief and loneliness got the best of you last night. Your friendship with Tony was too precious to risk, and now all you want to do is move on. But what happens when the other party doesn't want to forget?

Warnings: smut, language, (technically) cheating, friends to lovers, mentions of past canon trauma, oral (f receiving), protected sex

Word Count: 5.1k

[Starts out sweet and all about tony x reader friendship, then turns into steamy Tony smut. Table sex, included. 😳]

---

Thump, thump, thump.

Your feet hit the pavement rhythmically as you jog your normal morning route. It’s a misty Seattle morning, and the world is still quiet. The sun is rising sleepily, beginning to bathe the world in gold. All is well.

Except. It isn’t.

You turn the block corner, and your apartment comes into sight. You take a glance down at your watch.

42 minutes.

That’s how long ago you had quietly slipped out of your apartment for your morning run. That’s how long it had been since your eyes shot open and you remembered the events of last night, rushing into your mind, all at once like a tsunami. You had turned your head to find Tony still asleep beside you in the bed. One leg sticking out of the messy sheets and his face buried in the pillow. Your pillow.

You had stared at him in disbelief, half-expecting him to disintegrate into a fleeting figment of your imagination. You had rubbed your eyes, trying to clear the haze.

Nope. Still there.

You silently curse yourself and your stupidity (see: weakness in the face of sexual temptation) for the 50th time this morning as you approach the brick building. Perhaps, when you reenter your apartment, Tony will be gone, and this will all have just been a bad trip — or something of the like.

Before you even open the door, the smell of frying bacon reaches your nose. You step inside and are greeted by a peculiar sight.

Tony Stark, clad in nothing but a pair of dark jeans, is buzzing about your small kitchenette. Simultaneously, there are eggs being flipped over-easy on the stovetop, orange juice being procured from the open fridge, bacon sizzling happily in a pan, and toast being buttered. You stand in amazement for a few seconds, processing the scene before you. The wonderful aroma of the all-American breakfast makes you mouth water.

“Y/N! Hey!” Tony exclaims when he sees you.

You slide onto a stool at the bar top, overlooking the controlled chaos unfolding in the kitchen area. Tony truly has remarkable skill when it comes to multitasking. You guess, all that time in the suit, operating about twenty computing systems at once, was good practice.

“Wow. Breakfast?” you remark, raising an eyebrow. “Since when do you cook?”

He scoffs, shooting you a brief smile before turning away to rapidly crack some black pepper onto the eggs.

“Cooking is easy. People think it’s a skill, but really it’s just planning, timing it out. It’s like assembling anything else. You just do the parts in order, trying not to break any yolks.”

You roll your eyes sarcastically at the classic “Tony” response.

Suddenly, all the components come crashing together, and Tony is setting down two perfectly assembled breakfast plates on the bar top — complete with a glass of orange juice for each of you. It looks delicious; it’s been way too long since you had a proper breakfast. Meaning, a breakfast that wasn’t cereal, a protein bar, or a bowl of sad, pale, scrambled eggs. You thank Tony as he pulls up the other stool to sit across from you.

“Dig in,” he says cheerfully, raising his fork. “Good run this morning?”

You nod, taking a big gulp of orange juice.

“Yeah, I heard you leaving,” Tony continues mindlessly. “Kind of weird waking up to an empty bed after a night like that. I finally know what it feels like to be on the other side, I guess.”

You nearly spit out your bite of toast. And just like that, reality comes crashing back down to earth. For a brief moment, it had felt like things could possibly come out normal on the other side. You and Tony could go back to being perfectly normal best friends.

How ignorant.

“What?” you remark incredulously.

You’re on the verge of laughter, partially out of amusement but mostly out of bewildered embarrassment.

Tony gives you his award-winning “I’m innocent!” raised-eyebrow expression. You suddenly become acutely aware of the situation. Tony Stark is sitting in your kitchen, shirtless, serving you breakfast. After you spent a far-from-platonic night rolling around your sheets together. You want to slap yourself.

“I’m talking about the incredible sex we had last night. And then, you leaving me alone before sunrise,” Tony explains casually, pushing your buttons further. “That's usually my play.”

He looks up at you, expecting a playful quip in return. Instead, you just slowly set down the fork you had been gripping.

“Tony,” you begin, seriously and calmly. “Let’s not talk about it. It was one night, and it won’t happen again. It was just once. We gave into the moment, but we shouldn’t-“

“The moment?” Tony suddenly blurts out, interrupting you. You purse your lips, surprised by the new and unexpected edge of anger in his voice. “God. Y/N. The moment, huh? You’re really just going to shrink it down to that. Just a moment.”

You stare at him, confused. Tony’s big brown eyes hold yours with an intensity. It's amazing how fast his sarcastic, playful tone can morph into ferocity. You want to look away, break his gaze, but you can’t. This whole thing was a mistake.

“It was fun,” you finally say. “But it was just a fuck. We were lonely.”

“You know, Y/N. You’re so damn smart,” Tony replies, leaning back a bit in his seat. “So, why do you always try and kid yourself? It bothers me. I know -- that you know -- that this wasn’t just a fuck.”

Your mind races through a million different responses.

Then, what was it?

What do you mean?

Why are you acting like this?

I'm not kidding myself.

But something tells you, deep down, that there's nothing you can say that won't lead to something you don't want to hear.

So, instead, you angrily snatch up your glass of orange juice, rising from your seat at the bar. You grit your teeth at Tony one more time before turning your back and striding toward to your study. You feel your cheeks burning hot.

The study is a second living room-sized space where you keep all your projects. Early sunlight is now streaming in through the large windows, falsely giving the impression of a peaceful Saturday morning. The large wooden table tops are littered with wires, microchips, and other electronic parts. When you first met the Avengers year ago, you and Tony butted heads over your shared expertise in technology and robotics. After much bickering and trying to outdo each other, you eventually accepted one another's intelligence and bonded over your shared field.

You look to the floor of your large study to see the air mattress you had set up there prior to Tony's arrival yesterday, obviously still pristine. You squeeze your eyes shut. Your apartment is absolutely dripping with reminders of last night's events. The empty whiskey glasses, still sitting on the side table in the living room. The couch pillows crumpled from the weight of your bodies, hungrily crashing together above them. You don't even want to think about your bedroom, where you're sure Tony's missing shirt is strewn on the ground.

You push the thoughts out of your your mind, pulling up a seat at your work table. You start to fiddle with a new lightweight shoulder pauldron you're currently designing. You can feel yourself going into 'shut-out' mode, trying your hardest to focus all your attention on the metal in your hands. This was all too much. This was all wrong.

When you hear footsteps behind you, entering the study, you ignore it. Tony quietly traverses the floor, coming to pull up a chair on the other side of the work table. He silently watches you working the wires into place. You don't look up. You don't have to see his expression to know the contemplative expression undoubtably painted on his face. You also don't have to look at him to know he's pondering more than just your work.

"You know, aluminum-titantium alloy won't hold up after a few heavy hits," Tony comments, nodding to the armor piece.

"I'm gonna chromatize it," you reply dryly, not looking up from your hands.

"I wouldn't bother. You can't just give everything a shiny coat to hold it together. If the problem is underneath, that is."

Fuck Tony and his fucking metaphors.

You growl angrily, throwing the pauldron down in frustration. You sit back in your seat and cross your arms, finally meeting your friend's eyes.

"Ok, fine," you say matter-of-factly. "Let's talk about it. It was good. It was really fucking good. And we both needed it. But that's it. I'm willing to leave it at that and forget about it if you are."

Tony rubs his beard in his palm, seemingly mulling over your words. His brown eyes don't leave yours. The warm sunlight coming in through the window behind him paints yellow patches on his bare shoulders, bathing him in gold. You take a mental picture of him, sitting there in his thoughts. A brief, intrusive thought passes through your mind, threatening that this could be the last time you see him. You immediately banish the notion. This friendship means too much to you. Not even a fuck-up as big as this one could make you want to toss it away. You hope Tony agrees.

"Help me understand where your head's at, Y/N," Tony finally replies. "What is your biggest concern right now? Wait, listen, I know there's a lot of reasons why last night was bad. But I want to know what you're thinking."

You sigh, uncrossing your arms. As much as Tony's 'list-and-analyze' reaction to crisis could be annoying, in some ways, it comforted you. Tony is impulsive, yes, but those who know him best also know his calculative nature: the mental risk assessments, the contingency plans labelled through Z. Always searching for the route that will hurt everyone the least. Always.

You consider his question carefully. Again, there's a million answers: the risk of ruining your friendship, the potential awkwardness, Pepper -- oh, god, Pepper --, the pain and grief you've both been through in the past few years. You close your eyes and pick one.

"You're one of the only people left that I trust. One of my only friends. Complexity doesn't often end well."

"You're right," Tony admits. "But aren't you the one who asked, 'is it wrong to not want to be alone'?"

You scoff loudly, angered by his using your words against you. However, that bitterness melts away into nothing when you see the heart-wrenching expression on Tony's face. His lips are pursed, and his eyes are searching yours desperately. Tony rarely shows outward weakness, but right now, the man before you isn't Iron Man. The man before you is broken. Someone who has tried everything to hold it -- his sanity, his relationship, his life -- together, to save the people he loves, to be strong. Someone who failed at that. Someone who truly felt alone.

You rest your chin in your palms and sigh, the weight falling over you as well.

Finally, you speak.

"Isn't it awful -- and strange -- how it can feel like a lifetime ago and just yesterday at the exact same time?"

Tony nods sadly at your observation. Of course, you were talking about the snap. About Thanos.

"You're right. About everything," he remarks. "Sometimes, it just gets too much. The...”

Loneliness. You finish his sentence in your head.

“Me too.”

“You should know though,” Tony continues. “I would never stop being your friend. No matter how complex things are. This — what we’ve been through — could never change, Y/N.”

There it is.

Some situations feel like you're running in circles; you're spiraling downwards and everything you say only makes matters worse and worse. It feels like sinking in quicksand with no way out. In every one of those situations, there's a key -- that one sentence, that one idea, that effortlessly clears the fog. This was it. Tony is going to be here, always. Everything is going to be alright.

You straighten up a bit in your seat. You let out a long sigh and give Tony a small smile.

"I know," you assure your friend. "Sometimes I forget everything that's happened. How complicated it's been before. How we made it out."

Tony laughs, and you're relived.

"How could you forget? It's been a wild ride."

The two of you grin at each other. You take a sip of your orange juice, which you had forgotten about and was now lukewarm.

"OK, happy?" you inquire with a playful tone. "Base material fixed. No need for shiny coats of anything. We're solid now."

Tony lets out a hearty chuckle at the stupid analogy. Suddenly, he stands, circling the work table until he's right in front of you. You suck in a breath of oxygen. From your seated position, your head only comes up to his abs. Bare abs, that is. You tilt your face upwards to meet his eyes.

"Y/N," he says gently. “Stand up.”

Confused, you rise to your feet. Before you can open your mouth to say anything else, Tony’s lean and muscular arms are wrapped around you. He pulls you into his chest, embracing you in his warmth. His grip is firm, as if he’s afraid you might run away. You soften into the hug, wrapping your arms around his back. You feel safe.

After a few moments, Tony releases you. However, he doesn’t move away, and the two of you are still nearly chest-to-chest. You peer up at him, and your friend’s warm toffee eyes meet yours.

“Wow, a Tony Stark hug?” you remark sarcastically. “I should play the lotto today.”

Tony chuckles under his breath. Despite your joking, it was true that Tony rarely gives hugs. He just isn’t the touchy-feely type — according to himself. Somehow this gesture, right now, meant everything. A hug was the most intimate thing Tony could have given you. It was a seal, a mark saying ‘I meant every word I just said.’

Tony is still standing directly in front of you, so close there’s only a magazine’s width between you. He’s so near that you can feel the warmth of his steady breathing, and the slight radiating heat from the arc reactor in his chest. Suddenly, you feel that familiar tug in your stomach. A rush of blood downwards...

“Tony-“

“Do you want me?” Tony cuts you off. His voice is low, gentle.

You suck in a breath of air at his words. Despite his directness, there's a detectable edge of nervousness in his tone. You smile internally at knowing you have this effect on Mr. Playboy. The slight uncertainty in Tony's voice also tells you that it's true: this is different. Last night was not just a mindless fuck. This is an understanding, wrapped around a mutual care that runs so deep that it burns.

You don’t even try to convince yourself that you don’t want Tony. Every ounce of your being is screaming to close the gap between you. You can still hear the scientist-logic-brain in you resisting, but your heart feels at ease. You and Tony. A concept that felt like the forbidden fruit itself just ten minutes ago now looked more like an oasis. And oasis that was maybe alright to take a drink from every once in a while.

You snake one hand upward to hold his cheek. Tony pushes gently into your palm.

It's you who leans in first. When your lips collide, it's soft. He presses himself into you, a delicate sigh escaping. You pull back just enough to whisper a breathy "I want you."

And oh, god do you want him.

“Then, have me,” Tony whispers back, gently.

You nearly visibly shiver. Any trace of hesitation is gone from his voice now. His words are demanding, but his tone is more of a plea.

“Do you want to go the bedroom?”

“No,” Tony replies immediately. He’s breathless. “Right here.”

You immediately feel wetness drop into your panties. Tony’s eyes have grow darker, as they bear down at you. The intensity makes your legs feel weak. You need him. He needs you.

In a moment of boldness, you bring your hands down to the hemline of your shirt. You lift the garment up and over your head, placing it on the work table beside you. Tony’s eyes wander to your red sports bra and your now-stiffened nipples showing through the sleek fabric.

In the next breath, Tony is suddenly kissing you again, his lips against yours in a desperate hunger. He brings his large, roughly calloused hands to your waist. He firmly grips your body, making you feel tiny in his hold. You let a small moan escape your lips.

Still holding you in his grasp, Tony starts to walk you backwards until your backside is pressed against the edge of your large work table. Tony’s hips press forward into you, making you gasp with excitement. You fingertips tangle in his hair, just wanting more and more and more...

In an effortless movement, Tony lifts your sports bra over your head. He throws the red fabric to the side, neither of you caring where it lands. Tony breaks away from your lips, starting to kiss down your cheek, jaw, and then finally giving attention to the delicate skin on your neck. Again, he’s careful not to nip or suck too hard to leave marks. The light scratching of his facial hair contrasts with the soft wetness of Tony’s lips, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

He continues to attend to your neck and jaw as one of his jean-clad thighs moves to fall between your legs. You let out a deep groan as Tony begins to rub and and roll his knee forward, stimulating your clothed core. His movements are like a wave, every forward crest bringing you a tiny bit of that friction your body wants so, so much. You’re in awe of the control Tony has over his movements and the effortless pleasure he’s capable of giving. You can’t help but find his experience and expertise sexy.

“Y/N,” Tony breathes against your neck. “Say it again. Please. Say you want me.”

It occurs to you that, aside from last night, Tony hasn’t felt wanted in a long time. Like, truly wanted. A pang of sadness fills your heart.

“Tony. I want you,” you declare, making sure the conviction in your voice shines through. You don’t have to try. You desire him more than anything right now. “I want you. I want this.”

With your words, Tony moans deeply into your jawline and begins to move his leg between yours more vigorously. Your fingertips trace over his bare back muscles. You trail your hands upward, into the nape of his neck, massaging his scalp. Everything about his beautiful form fits perfectly in your hands.

Tony continues moving downwards, soon finding your right nipple in his mouth. You arch your back, letting a loud moan escape your lips. He works your nipple expertly, rolling it and playing at it with his tongue. He alternates to your other nipple, his thumb replacing where his mouth just left. He lightly strokes the hard, spit-slick bud, and the combination of coolness and friction is heaven.

Tony stands back up, and a second later, his hands are at the elastic band of your running shorts. His eyes meet yours for a moment, silently asking for your permission. You nod a bit too eagerly, and Tony cracks a small, teasing smile. You scoff and lightly slap his shoulder, returning the smile.

Tony pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, leaving you in just your underwear. Next thing you know, Tony’s arms are around your waist. You let out a soft, surprised squeal as he lifts you effortlessly to sit on the edge of the work table behind you. Slightly elevated now, you come to about the same height as Tony.

“Hey,” you protest playfully. “Be careful. There’s important stuff here.”

Tony reaches behind you to clear the area, moving your half-finished projects and parts to the side.

“My apologies, Ms. Y/L/N,” he replies with a huge grin. “Got a bit carried away.”

You pull him into another deep kiss. He growls with pleasure when you nip at his bottom lip. Tony is now standing between your knees, his torso pressing gently into your panty-covered pussy. You can feel his erection through his jeans, straining against his clothes. After seeing Tony’s length for the first time last night, the mental image of his cock — just a few millimeters away from your core — is enough to make you drool. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him in harder against you. He moans into your mouth, and you feel the vibrations as your tongues tangle together.

You feel Tony’s body leaning forward, slowly coaxing you to lay down on the table. Now fully on your back, Tony’s above you, taking in the sight of your body.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the most magnificent creature on Earth?”

“No,” you reply with a smirk. “But now, knowing how many other planets are out there in the galaxy, just being Miss Earth doesn’t seem like a huge deal.”

Tony laughs, smiling with his teeth. You find the crinkles that form on the outer corners of his eyes utterly endearing.

“Well, you’re still one out of four-and-three-quarters billion,” he jests back. “Not too shabby. It’s all about the little victories.”

You giggle. The pleasant thought passes through your mind that despite the current situation, everything does feel strangely normal. Tony is still Tony; you’re still you. The banter between you and your friend is still comfortable and easy. Your relationship, although maybe morphing into something more nuanced, remains unmoved.

You’re so caught up in your inner thoughts, that you don’t register Tony kneeling to the ground between your legs. You gasp when you feel his warm mouth over your still-clothed pussy. The combined wetness of his mouth and your core easily soaks through the fabric of your panties, making it cling to your skin. Tony runs his tongue over your folds, through the saturated cloth. You groan with pleasure, the small of your back arching off of the table. You grip Tony’s dark hair, needing something to hold onto.

The sensation of Tony’s lips and tongue through your thin panties is completely unique, and fuck, does it drive you wild.

After a few minutes, Tony’s hands reach up to hook in the waist of your panties. He removes your final garment, leaving you fully bare. His mouth immediately returns to your pussy. His tongue circles your clit, before running downwards through your lips, and then back up again. He alternates this pattern with gentle sucks on your clit.

“Oh, Tony. Shit,” you manage to call out. “That feels so good.”

He hums hungrily into you, pleasuring you to a level that no previous lovers have ever come close to. Tony’s large, rough hands wander upwards. One palm gentle grips your breast, while the other comes under your waist to hold the small of your back.

You raise your head slightly to glance down at Tony. The sight is pornographic. His face is buried in your cunt, head bobbing. The shape of his shoulder muscles, and his strong back. His tan skin, all bathed in golden sunlight.

Pleasuring you. On his knees.

It’s like a painting. Beautiful and erotic.

“Tony. I need you,” you gasp out, suddenly overcome with neediness. “Inside me. Fuck, I want you.”

Those magic words, again. I want you. The effect they have on Tony is instantaneous. Without hesitation, Tony is on his feet. He swiftly unbuttons his jeans and pulls down the zipper. His pants fall down to his ankles where he kicks them off. To your surprise his naked cock springs free. A glistening pearl of precum is formed at the tip.

“Wow, commando, huh?” you tease, gently biting at your bottom lip. “You were so confident you were going to get lucky again today?”

“Of course not. I just like to let it breath sometimes,” Tony remarks. “You wouldn’t get it. It’s a man thing.”

You scoff and roll your eyes sarcastically. Lovable idiot.

“Top drawer?” Tony asks, referring to the location of the condoms.

“On the left.”

Tony hurries out of the room and returns a second later with a condom from your bedroom. Stepping closer between your knees, he gives his cock a few pumps in his fist. You can feel your heart quickening with anticipation. Your pussy is nearly pulsing, needing to be stretched and filled.

Tony rips open the shiny wrapper and rolls the condom down onto his length. You scoot slightly closer to the edge of the table as his hands travel to grip your thighs. You moan deeply as Tony rubs the head of his cock over your slit, spreading your moisture.

“Are you ready?” Tony asks, eyes dark with desire.

“Mmhmm,” you hum. “Make me feel good.”

With that, Tony starts slowly pushing into your dripping pussy. You groan as your walls accommodate to his girth. It’s amazing that you took him just last night, and he’s already capable of stretching you like this again. Tony throws his head back, hissing in pleasure as he bottoms out, his pubic mound flush against yours.

He starts pumping gently. The way Tony’s hips roll forward in fluid motions makes you want to scream with pleasure. His hands are gripping your thighs tightly, fingertips digging into the soft flesh.

Tony’s pace quickens, and soon the room is filled with sounds of wetness, skin slipping on skin, and the moans leaving both your throats. One of Tony’s hands moves to your pussy. His thumb rubs tight circles on your clit making you see stars behind your eyes. The extra stimulation almost immediately starts tightening the orgasmic coil in your stomach. Tony seems to know the exact speed to move his cock and thumb to turn you into a whimpering mess beneath him.

“Oh, more,” you groan, your pleasure growing. “Tony Stark. Yes, oh, please.”

“Come for me, Y/N,” Tony growls almost primally. “Wanna feel you squeezing around my cock.”

Tony’s filthy demands go straight to your pussy. You love the feeling of being under him, sprawled out on the table, completely naked for him to fuck. And the dirty talk is the cherry on top.

The pleasure in your abdomen continues to rise until you’re on the edge of ecstasy. With one last thrust, your orgasm washes over you. You scream Tony’s name into the room, not caring who hears. Pulses of pleasure rip through your entire body, even making your feet tingle. When you come down, the convulsions slowing, your head feels fuzzy and bubbly.

Not even a moment later, you feel Tony lifting your legs higher. Still inside you, he straightens them, bringing your ankles to rest on his shoulders. The new sensation is instantly nirvana. He starts pumping into you, and the head of his cock rubs your G-spot on every thrust. Penetrative sex had never felt this good for you.

“You feel so fucking amazing, Y/N,” Tony manages to says between moans. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

The feeling of your pussy being pounded in this angle has your eyes rolling back into your skull. All your thoughts seem to leave your head. The only thing you can focus on is the immense pleasure. The sound of Tony’s balls slapping against you wetly with every stroke combined with his desperate moans fill your ears.

Tony’s thrusts start to become more jagged, needy. His moans slowly transform more into whimpers as he continues to fuck into you. Suddenly, Tony comes with a series of loud groans, his eyes shut tight. You feel his dick pulsating inside you as he orgasms. He thrusts a few more times, riding out the last waves.

He gently slides out of you, his hands coming down the tabletop next to your waist to steady himself. Both of you are breathing heavily, your bodies radiating with the afterglow of pleasure.

Silently, Tony helps you to stand before sweeping you up easily in his arms. You lean into his chest as he carries you to the bedroom. Tony lays you down carefully on the cool mattress before hurrying to the bathroom. He returns a moment later with a warm washcloth.

After cleaning yourselves up, Tony crawls into the refreshing sheets beside you. He slips one arm under your neck, and you cuddle in closer to his body. The warmth and smoothness of his skin is so, so welcoming. In the strangest way, it feels natural.

“I didn’t think it was possible to top last night,” you finally say, chuckling.

“Me neither,” Tony replies. “I guess we just have good chemistry.”

“Who would’ve thought?” You laugh and drape an arm over his chest. “Hey, question.”

“Ask away.”

“Why did you cook all that stuff earlier? Like the eggs, toast, the whole nine yards. It was sort of...”

“Out of character?” Tony finishes your sentence.

You nod. Tony takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly.

“Honestly, when I woke up, and you were gone, I was freaking out a little bit. I wanted to talk about last night, but you weren’t there, and I just didn’t know what you were thinking. If you were having serious regrets, or if you were angry, or upset with me. Or if you were thinking our whole friendship was burned to the ground.

“I just needed to do something. Anything. Busy my hands, distract my mind. Sorry that I kind of raided your kitchen.”

You turn to peer up at him, letting out a soft laugh. His chocolate eyes meet yours, and you give him a kind smile, endeared by his typical, hyper ramblings.

“I’m sorry I left,” you start. “I was freaking out a little, too. I guess that’s always been a difference between us. I always try to run from the unknown, while you just want to plow straight through it.”

Tony smiles warmly and blinks his gorgeous, thick black eyelashes at you.

“It’s why we make a good pair. Balance. Yin and yang. Ya’ know.”

You both chuckle, content in one another’s arms. You open your mouth to reply, but you’re cut off by a loud growl from your stomach. Tony bursts into laughter.

“Your fault for barely touching breakfast,” Tony remarks playfully. “Which — not to toot my own horn — was quite artfully made.”

“I guess I could settle for a bowl of lowly cereal as punishment,” you reply with mock sadness.

Tony chuckles and shakes his head. He starts to rise from the bed, then offers his hand for you to follow.

“C’mon, I’ll make you some more eggs.”

#tony x reader #tony x fem!reader #avengers imagines #avengers fic #avengers smut #tony stark #smut #tony stark smut #marvel fics #iron man #iron man smut #iron man fic #dom!tony #soft!tony #friends to lovers #tony stark fluff #fanfic

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allegra-writes · 2 years

Note

Don’t hate me, I come in peace 😁 but but could you do an outtake based on this little bit from The Great Escape I?

"Did we ever made it to Lombardi's?" Billy finally asked, referring to the promise he had made you long ago, as you shared a dinner just like this one, of taking you for real pizza once you both were back home.

It was probably a fluffy moment between Billy and Nightingale. I just need more of these two… you know… like a crack addict.

😘😘😘😘😘

Sadly, they never did make it to Lombardi's (you'll see why later) 💔

But I certainly can give you a little snippet of when the promise was made. Ps: I could never hate you, bestie, ILY 💖

"Pizza Night"

Moodboard by the lovely and talented @slut4benbarnes

Billy Russo x Reader

General Audiences

Warnings: War setting. Mentions of injury. Unapologetic fluff.

Part of the "Hopeless Romantic" series, can be read as a stand alone.

MY MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

"Fuck, yeah, I got pizza!!"

Billy snapped his head up at Gunter's triumphant exclamation. He cursed internally, the entire team was aware Gunter was the biggest foodie among them, it was just his luck he would be the one to get the prized Menu 23, but so far nothing had been easy in Billy's life, this was hardly a challenge for him. Thinking quickly, he decided on bribing as his first plan, even though he knew it was a hard bargain. If it failed, if everything failed, anyway, he wasn’t above begging.

Not for this. Not for you.

"I'll give you all my desserts for three days if you trade with me"

It was enough to stop Gunter dead in his tracks before he even opened his package, surprise clear on his face.

"You watching your figure, Bill?" Frank called out from the other side of the tent, "You don't need to get anymore handsome, you know? You already the beauty of the team"

There were a couple of good natured cheers and calls of "Billy, the beaut!" from the others, but for once, he paid them no mind, eyes fixed on the hesitating Gunter.

"One week" Billy raised his offer, "starting right now"

Still, Gunter seemed reluctant, so he decided to go for the kill,

"I have a cinnamon roll right now..."

"Deal!" The soldier all but shouted, his sweet tooth making his decision for him. Billy smiled as they traded packets, shaking his friend's hand in mock formality under the bewildered gazes of the entire team. It was a peculiar scene for them, so far away from home and in such an inhospitable place where the simple, domestic pleasures of life were so few and far between , desserts were coveted and hoarded, sometimes even exchanged as currency, just like cigarettes. Gunter had definitely gotten the better end of the deal, outrageously so, and it wasn't like Billy. Cunning, brilliant Billy, the too-clever fox of the Raiders regiment, a man who had managed time and time again to strip his teammates of new socks, sweets and various goods in bargains and bets. It's was fishy, to say the least, and more than one of them wondered what the little bastard's angle was, especially as he took his price, dug out of his backpack for another little brown package and ducked out of the tent.

It was way too conspicuous for Frank not to follow him.

"What you up to, Blackbird? We both know this crap isn't worth a week's desserts..."

Billy stopped enough to let his friend catch up to him, it was no use trying to lose him or bullshit his way out of this one, not when you'd probably tell him about it tomorrow, and not when he knew Frank's intentions were good. He had taken you under his wing as soon as you had been assigned to the operation, in typical Castle way, not only showing you the ropes around their base but also making it completely clear to everyone, even Orange, that you were to be left alone, unless they wanted to answer to him, and by proxy, to Billy too. He didn't blame him, Billy too had seen the fucked up stuff a woman in the army was exposed too, and he would burn the entire Compound before letting anything like that happen to you.

Nah, honestly was probably the best policy here, so he replied,

"It's for Y/N. You know she's been in a bit of a funk since Harry..." He trailed off, but Frank needed no further explanation. They all had felt the loss of Sargent Bendix acutely, but none more than you did. You never said it, but they all suspected you felt personally responsable for not being able to save him. Hearing about the wife and little girl he had left behind probably didn't help either.

"Yeah, I've noticed. Don't know what shitty pizza's gotta do with this, tho"

"It's her comfort food" Billy explained, a peculiar feeling of heat creeping up his neck and face, "She told me how whenever she was down, back home, her best friend would show up with an entire pie and they would finish off the whole thing... I just thought, maybe, we could share a couple slices and it could cheer her up"

"In that case," Frank produced his own little brown package, "Mind if I crash your date?"

"Dude, you got pizza too?? You could have told me before I gave up all my desserts to freaking Gunter!"

Frank laughed at Billy's betrayed look, but quickly sobered up before asking,

"Have you given any thought to what we talked about? You know... The whole "quality over quantity thing"?"

"What's it got to do with pizza night?"

The older marine gaped at his friend, but seeing his genuine look of confusion, he decided to let it go, for now. Luckily, he was saved from having the oblivious Billy questioning him further by finally arriving to the medical tent.

"Hey doc!"

"Well, if it isn't my two favorite Raiders!" Your, admittedly subdued, smile was still enough to make Billy's stomach feel funny. "What can I do for you, boys?"

Billy shook his head,

"Oh, no. This time, is what we can do for you" At your raising eyebrows, Billy raised the MREs, "Would you like to join us for pizza?"

Your face lit up like the morning sky, intensifying the strange feeling In Billy's stomach. It wasn't a bad feeling though, it was warm and exhilarating, not unlike that first drop on a roller-coaster, or the first plane he ever rode taking off. He quickly decided he would go dessert-less for a month, if that's what it took putting that look on your face again.

Neither Frank nor him protested as you took hold of their sweaters and pulled them inside, it was always funny when you manhandled them as if they weren't almost twice your size. Billy idly wondered if that was what having a little sister would feel like, unbidden images of an idyllic childhood neither of you had crossinghis mind. Of picket fences and tiny hands pushing him around, bullying him into giving you another push at the swings, into pulling you up a tree, into a dance instead of a game of ball like he wanted... the bewildering realization that, in that fantasy, he was actually looking at the kids from the outside as you stood by his side on an imaginary porch that looked suspiciously like the Castles' made him shook his head, finally coming out of his reverie to find himself and Frank sitting behind a gurney, setting up the heaters to get dinner ready as you disappeared into the back of the tent.

... Only to return with-

"No way"

"No fucking wa-"

"How on earth did you get those in here?"

You cracked open the three beers, handing them over before replying,

"I have my ways"

"Which are..." Frank insisted.

"Classified" You winked at Billy.

"Woahhhhh"

"Ouch!"

"That's payback for all the times you gave me that answer"

"Oh, she's ruthless!" Frank laughed

"Come on, it's not our fault, our missions are classified!" Billy defended himself. Had it been up to him, he would have told you everything you wanted to know and more.

"It's frustrating" It wasn't the first time you complained about your lack of clearance, "Have you got any idea how difficult is to treat someone when you don't know how they got that way in the first place?"

"I can tell you how I always get hurt, saving his fat ass" Billy accused, pointing his pizza slice at Frank.

"Oh, no, I can tell you the truth about how he gets hurt" Frank countered, "trying to manwhore his way through the mission"

That got him a snort from you.

"I keep telling him: Bill, you can't flirt the enemy into submission. You need more than a Colgate smile and an ass that just won't quit to win the war, but he just won't listen..."

You were practically in stitches, pizza still untouched as you tried to get yourself under control again. Billy felt a strange pang of something a lot like jealousy directed at his best friend. It was childish and selfish, but everyone already preffered Frank, he wanted to be your favorite.

"I finished the book you gave me" The sudden change in subject wasn't an attempt to regain your attention. At all.

Your eyes lit up with excitement at that.

"And..." You prompted, your enthusiasm too adorable for Billy to keep playing dumb.

"And you were right" He admitted, "Leto II is a much more interesting character than Paul ever was"

"Yes! I told you he was! He's so much more complex and conflicted, he's both the best and the worst in humanity and-"

"And I will take both your books away if you don't start eating right now" Frank admonished, shifting almost involuntarily into father mode, "This shit is barely passable hot, and completely disgusting cold, so you better hurry finishing your diner"

"Oh, come on, it's not so bad, this is actually pretty good! You're just a couple of New York pizza snobs..."

"Only someone who hasn't tried real pizza can say that" Frank lamented.

"You know what? When we get back home, I'll take you to Lombardi's" Billy decided, "Best pizza in New York-"

"In the world!"

"- You'll love it"

You smiled, the first real smile you had smiled in a week, eyes trained on Billy and on Billy only, and it was as if the sun had arisen inside his chest, it was amazing, how you could warm him up inside, bring light to even the coldest, darkest parts of him.

"Great, it's a date" The picture of nonchalance, you took another bite, as Billy almost choked on his pizza and Frank simply stared with a smug, knowing smirk on his face.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfiction #ben barnes characters #ben barnes character fic #Aleksander Morozova #the punisher #the punisher netflix

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

smoke and fire (07b)

word count; 7053

summary; as the tragedy of the chemical fire begins to wind down, the aftermath leaves the entire team in shock, and in need of a little comfort.

notes; this is the second half of part-7, I just know you guys are going to love it by the end.

warnings; minor character deaths, reference to panic attacks, vomiting, chemical fires.

Finally, the dam broke, and you tried to hold in the tears that wanted to release, the boy on the sheet twitching aggressively in his unconscious state as his body struggled to keep functioning. Your hands felt heavy as you pressed your hand over the neat stack of cards, dragging your hand over the pile and spreading it out to display all of the colours, before your fingers were brushing over what you were certain was the first of this colour card to be issued yet today.

A black card, feeling ominous in your hand, the weight of the card feeling more like bricks as you lifted it up, and you allowed yourself to shed the first tear. You didn’t want to tell Thomas, to let him know the real extensions of what you were seeing, but there was nothing for this boy that you could do. He wouldn't make it to a hospital or into surgery, his injuries were far too extensive, and so you let your legs stretch out from in front of you, the black card looped around his neck as you tried your best to make him comfortable.

The wipes you used were soothing instead of antibacterial, cooling skin that had been destroyed by flames, red and bleeding as you tried to soothe him, wiping away the traces of his injuries to try and clean him up.

There was a hope, that family was coming for him, that you were cleaning him up for a reason, helping him to look more presentable as you wiped traces of black ash and dust from his skin, all mattered in brown-red stains and sweat, tears under his eyes, and you removed it all.

It was moments like this that you had to remind yourself why you did this job at all, working along him carefully all the way to his fingertips as you wiped him down, adjusting the torn shreds of his clothes around him to hide the extent of his injuries as best as you could once you’d padded the deep slashes across his torso, bandages already beginning to seep through with red, but you adjusted his shirt down to over them. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but it was radically better than it had been.

Tanned flesh was beginning to lose colour and his body motions were beginning to grow fatigued, and once you had adjusted him as best as you could, you were simply left to wait, sitting by the young boy’s side, and whispered reassurances into his ear with every twitch he made, sometimes resurfacing long enough to feel his pain, back arching and screams of pain leaving his lips, and you bit back tears, before letting them flow freely once again when his pain carried him back a state of illusion.

You loved this job, because in 99 out of 100 cases, it worked out. You helped pregnant women escape elevator shafts and father’s life long enough to see their baby born too, and you helped kids escape a life they didn't want to be in, and have the courage to create a new path. You helped nurses of amnesia patients escape burning rooms when they’d given up all hope, and you saved the elderly from suffocation on the gas leaks within their own homes.

You were damn good at your job, but sometimes, there were moments like this one that made it all that much harder.

Making a mental note of where you lay within the chaos, you hauled yourself up onto your feet, families weaving around as they all made to seek out their family members, and you were glad to notice that less and less people were being removed from the building. As you weaved through the channels made in the grass, the green stands worn away under multiple foot and wheel prints into muddy dirty tracks that would take weeks to fix, you made your way towards the ambulance you’d arrived in.

The weight of your body was heavy, every footfall feeling like it weighed you down more and more, your arms hanging by your sides, and you knew that tomorrow you would be riddled with pain and aching muscles, the over-exertions, everything from fixing up simple wounds, to hauling around men who were 200lb of pure muscle to help move them into recovery positions or lift them onto stretchers when they were too weak or injured to do it themselves, workmen who were twice your size, and the strain was making itself known.

You were numb, for now, and it was a sweet and blissful relief to know that the racing of your heart was creating enough adrenaline to dull every pain you had. Well, except for the headache that had been throbbing behind your eyes for hours now and making you feel a little nausea, but you could handle that, as long as you were able to finish this day without anything else. You must’ve dealt with over a hundred people at least, possibly more, the workload doubled with Newt too, and you were ready to crash into your bed, dreading the hours of shift you still had remaining.

The flames were beginning to be tamed, the blue tint to the smoke was fading as the chemicals were burned away, thick clouds of black smoke as the orange glow died down, beginning to be extinguished. There wasn’t much equipment that you had needed before, and yet now, you were grabbing ahold of a heart rate monitor and an oxygen tank, the mask to match it, and one of the stretcher pillows that had been discarded to the front of the ambo’ to make more room on the trolleys.

Hooking the monitor under your arm, you moved it to sit comfortably balanced on your hip, before you were letting out a sigh, your fingers hovering over the drawer of medicines and needles that you hated going into. Newt had stuck a small skull and crossbones sticker over it, one that had an eyepatch and a pirates hat on it, a joke between the two of you after you’d gone through the drive-thru at McDonalds on the way back from a call only a few weeks ago, getting a collection of pirate stickers in a happy meal box.

That drawer was only ever dug into if all options were out, if you were simply trying to relieve some of the pain that a patient was in, because they were in agony, and wouldn't make it to the hospital. Enough to bring down someone's pain levels, to let their heart relax, because once their brain stopped fighting to keep them alive and hiding the pain, they often didn’t drive too long after that.

Swallowing thickly, the jars within rattled a little as they clinked against one another. Shifting through and turning them in your hands, you found the container labelled with the medicine you were searching for, a fresh needle in a plastic packet, and you held both of them in your other hand, adjusting the equipment in your arms as you hopped down from the vehicle once again.

Slamming the doors back shut and waiting to hear them lock behind you, your eyes flickered over the scene. There were still a lot of police officers; operating crowd control, handing out water bottles and guiding members of the family through the crowd. You would give it time, not injecting the poor boy with the medicine until it all became too much for him, giving him the best chance for his family to get here before he passed, but you couldn't wait long.

Your feet dragged a little as you walked, toes scuffing against the muddy grass, and you were beginning to lose all strength, forcing yourself to go on, muscles clenching to keep them tight before you dropped everything you were holding entirely. Arriving back at the scene, the boy was panting rapidly and lightly, eyes moving beneath closed lids and jaw clenched so tight you worried he would crack his teeth, fists clenched by his side as his body remained rigid.

Placing down the kit gently, you let out a little sigh, his eyes cracking open to turn to look at you as he heard the sound.

“I-It hurts!”

You swallowed, knowing there wasn’t much more you could do as his voice cracked. He was covered with burns, and there were clear signs of internal bleeding as the organs beneath charred skin went solid, there was bruising along his body in many places from the broken bones under his skin, and with the wheezing he let out, never quite able to catch his breath, you were certain that the cracked ribs had punctured one of his lungs. “I know, kiddo, I know.”

He cried out again, a wet sound as he coughed, his entire body jerking at the sensation, and you cupped a hand behind his head, fingers finding the sticky wetness of warm blood at the base of his neck as you tried to rock him forwards, letting him cough until splatters of blood were hitting his lap and the plastic, splattering a little across you as he wretched, his entire body trembling.

When he finally managed to stop the movements, he was even more out of breath than he had been, and you lay him back down, using a glove-covered thumb to wipe at the corners of his mouth and clear away the blood and spit mix that had accumulated there. He had wretched, several times, though no bile had risen, his body reacting in every way it could now as organs began to fail and shut down one by one, and you hated that there was nothing anyone could do but sit here on watch.

Minute felt like an eternity as you hooked up the heart monitor, turning the volume down to soft beeping, as not to disturb anyone else, an uneven and erratic rate with a blood pressure concerningly low, and you were glad that the average eye couldn't read these figures, because it read like a horror story in a medical professionals eyes.

Just as you finished hooking the boy up to the machine, an oxygen mask sitting over his face, fogging up lightly inside as he took gasping breaths of the raw source, you felt a shadow fall over you, covering your eyes from the light before you were looking up.

The mother, you could tell immediately, from the sullen look in her eyes, and she didn’t look at you, her gaze sweeping over the boy who lay beside where you knelt, before she was turning, a quick call to her husband, and just like that, you were crowded by family. There were three younger siblings, and he seemed to be the eldest of them all, a pre-teen with tears already in her eyes as she looked at her brother, a child who couldn't be older than eight staring in confusion as they tried to grasp what happened, and a toddler, a fist knotted in their father’s jumper and balanced on his hip.

Sinking to her knees beside her son, she didn’t sob or scream, she simply let out a shaky breath, lifting her hand to brush dark curls out of his face, looking down at her eldest child as he began to slip away again. Setting the youngest down, the toddler wobbled on unstable legs to their mother, sitting down in the grass beside them and reaching a hand out with useless babble to place a chubby hand onto the boy’s arm, squeezing a little and cheering as they lived within a bubble of innocence, unaware of what was happening.

“Can you tell me what’s happening?”

A deeper voice, the father, and you turned, nodding your head to him and shifting yourself to pick up the needle, tearing off the plastic top and producing the needle from inside. “I’m just going to give him a shot of morphine, and then we’ll talk.”

He only nodded, watching as you lifted the container, pushing the tip of the needle through the rubbery covering and drawing back on the syringe carefully to fill the needle with the approximate amount, tapping the tip and checking it over once it had the right dosage within it. Finding a spot on his arm where there was still enough intact flesh to find a vein, you pressed your finger down over the pale skin, the blue vein underneath disappearing for a second, refilling weakly but marking its place, and you lined the needle up.

An uncomfortable pang shot through you as you injected the needle into his arm, pushing the pad of your finger down against the handle of the needle until all of the medicine had been unloaded into his veins. It took a few seconds to travel, and you watched him, studying his reaction to be sure, before all at once his muscles loosened and he sagged with relief into the plastic tarp as the pain finally faded away, fingers flexing around his mother’s as he squeezed with what little strength he had left.

Standing up and wobbling a little, the father followed you a few steps away from the group, and he glanced back over his shoulder to his family, hands sticking into his pockets, before he was letting out a heavy sigh. “My boy, he’s not going to make it, is he?”

“No, he’s not.” You whispered, and the man only nodded, a slow exhale from him as he processed that news, before tears were building in his eyes, and he began to crumble a little. “I gave him a shot of morphine, it’s slowed down all of his functions now, and taken away his pain. He can’t feel it now. I wish there’s more I could have done, I’m sorry.”

“My wife saw the news, saw the explosion. She was so worried, straight away.” A twist of guilt moved through you, making you sniff a little as your own lower lips wobbled, and you tried to choke down tears. “I told her she’d be okay, and that he was just an intern. There was no way he was close enough to the real stuff to be badly injured.”

“My friend found him, carried him out about fifteen minutes ago. Gave me enough time to let you get here to say your goodbyes.”

“You tell your friend ‘thank you’ for me, and for my family.” You nodded, knowing how much it would mean, and he finally let his tears slip free, making it harder for you to contain your own emotions. “He’s the oldest of all four, I don’t do much for a job. I’m just a mechanic, and his mother works at a supermarket, but he was going to college. He studied biomedical science, he was going somewhere.”

You grimaced, an unstable breath sucked into your lungs, before you were blinking quickly and looking away. There was bile rising in your throat, your hand gripping at your stomach to try and contain it. “I’m going to go now, and let you say your goodbyes. I’ll return soon, okay?”

You both knew what ‘soon’ meant, and he nodded, stepping away to talk to his wife, and a look seemed to be all that was needed to communicate between them, before the first of a loud cry was leaving her lips, and that was your breaking point. You shouldered through the people, mumbled apologised on your lips, you did feel bad for pushing through them all, but you could barely choke down the vomit rising within your guts before you were stepping out of sight, hunched over at the waist as you let it go, hand reaching out for supper as you found the tree.

Nails scraped against the bark, the pads of your fingers stinging at the rough pressure, and you shuddered as you heaved, throat stinging and eyes watering as you struggled to even breathe. It felt unending, time warping around you as you realised it had only been a half-hour since the boy had been delivered to you, and that he wouldn't make it to the hour marker.

A hand came down to rub at your back, and you gasped for breath, wiping the back of your hand, covered by your sleeve across your mouth and taking a moment to yourself. When you were finally able to stand back up, stomach feeling a little more stable as you tried not to think about the dying boy lest your nausea return, you twisted to find the person who had come to comfort you.

"Officer Paris." Your words couldn't get any higher than a whisper, and even that cracked, and his hand fell back down to his side as you wrapped your arms around yourself in comfort.

“Saw you take a sudden dash, got a little worried.”

You nibbled on your lower lip, a foul taste lingering in your mouth, and he offered up a water bottle for you, a weak laugh on your lips as you accepted it with a whispered ‘thank you’. As you took deep swigs, forcing yourself not to gulp as you slowed your racing heart, you watched as the fire teams began to load the equipment back into their trucks slowly, all the work they could do having been completed by now, and you knew that there was still a lot of work left for you to do before you’d get to follow after them.

“Everything okay?”

“Not really.” You whispered, screwing the lid of the water back on and holding it to your chest, using the cool liquid within to try and focus your senses. “We’re going to need a coroner down here. I know there’s some up in the building, but we have a kid, he’s not going to make it.”

“I’ll find one for you, okay?”

You appreciated the gentle tone of his voice, lowering your head to rub gently at your temples with one hand. “I should get back, we need to start getting people out of here.”

You could hardly focus as you walked back to your stations, everything seeming to slip from focus into some kind of daze as you tried to focus on what you were doing. You retrieved your bag, scooping it up from the floor and swinging it over your shoulder. There were coloured cards waiting to be collected, torn plastic bases and litters of water bottles in the mud, as well as lost personal belongings that had been forgotten in the rush.

Many people were still crowded around, waiting to be excused and waiting to get rides in an ambulance, the reds fading away into a majority of only green and yellow cards waiting, and you praised your lucky stars that you had only needed to give out one single black card today, because you weren’t sure that you’d even still be standing if there had been any more.

Flexing the fingers of your hand slowly, you focused on the sensation, head rolling from side to side, before your shoulders followed, and you loosened every single muscle you had for a tranquil moment, before setting to work. The sun was already beginning to fade on the day now, moving towards the horizon as the lighting dulled, hours having passed between caring for patients, and your first call was to begin getting people signed off.

Leaving your bag in the flooring of your seat in the ambulance, you collected a stack of forms and papers, as well as pens, taking them with you as you began to make your rounds of anyone who was left. As long as they were sentient enough to fill out discharge forms after you ran a final assessment, you could let them leave on their own as long as they had somebody with them, family or a friend, even just a neighbour or coworker, but it helped to clear out the crowds.

Newt joined you after an hour or so, having done his last assessment with the final patient, all the fire trucks being long since left, leaving police cars and vans scattered around, ambulances coming and going, and you had to ensure not to focus on the black vans with wide embossed lettering that brought a more sombre mood. Newt seemed to sense your pain, because he disappeared for a small while, returning not long after, and as you packed away equipment, the family you’d helped were now gone, the equipment you’d left with them was loaded back into the ambulance, and where words failed you, the look your friend gave you said it all.

He knew how much you’d suffered, he knew it would only cause more pain to go over and gather the equipment once the boy’s body had been cleared, and so he took care of it for you. A crew of policemen were on clean-up, as well as that of volunteers, only the shining lights of headlights and camera crew leftover as the light began to fade into darkness, and the scene was somewhat clean.

Lost belongings were piled into large plastic boxes with the police, and you filled out what felt like a bibles-worth of paperwork with the coroners, signing your name so many time your signature now just looked like a scribble rather than your name, before you were finally collapsing down into the somewhat uncomfortable cushioning of the ambulance’s passenger seat.

Silence took over your both, and as the truck started up, you left your head sway back into the headrest, eyes slipping shut as the rumble of the vehicle lulled you into as much relaxation as you could get.

As the adrenaline began to die down, you were able to feel the ache in your body, the pain that was seeping into every fibre of your body, every nerve and cell, exhaustion taking over. Raising a hand up to cover your mouth as you yawned, Newt chuckled softly, leaning over and patting your knee, before he was changing gears, and twisting on the radio to fill the cabin with the sounds of the classical music radio.

The trucks were parked away neatly within the garage bay when you arrived, the main doors up to anticipate your arrival, but the space was unusually empty, though it was understandable. After cells, members of the team could often be found milling around, sitting at the squad table and chatting, or working over the truck to check and clean equipment, filling the silence with laughter and jokes as they got along, but as you hopped out of the vehicle the second it was put into park, you were met with silence.

The echo of your door slamming shut reverberated around the empty foyer, Newt’s soon following, before he was rounding to your side, a sad look in eyes that normally sparkled brightly, and he let out a sigh. “I’m sorry about the kid. I really thought we were going to make it through the day without a black card today.”

“Did the coroner’s say anything about inside?”

“I didn’t even want to ask. We did everything we could, everybody did.” You swallowed thickly, nodding your head, and letting Newt loop an arm over your shoulders to pull you into his side, your head falling to his shoulder, and dragging your aching feet underneath you as you followed after him towards the locker room. You were stained with dirt, blood and grime, and you hoped the water was hot enough to soothe you and wash away your worries, already thinking about the muscle-relief body wash that you had hidden on the second shelf in your locker. “We could get in touch with the hospital, and see if everybody is okay?”

“You could call that hot doctor.” Newt squeezed you a little, a humourless laugh leaving you as you caught sight of his smirk, little energy to reciprocate the joke, but appreciating the way he lifted the mood nonetheless. “What was his name, again? David, Denny?”

“It’s Derek, and you know that.”

“Derek, that’s right.” He sighed, dreamily as he pushed open the door to the locker room, and the smell of multiple body-washes as well as the lingering heat from steam, signalling that the rest of your team had already been through the room and cleaned themselves up. Grabbing the towel and the bag of toiletries from your locker, you kicked off your boots, flexing your toes as your feet were liberated, and letting your socks follow. You were too lazy to even scoop your clothes up from the floor, stripping down to your underwear before wandering away to the shower, and closing the curtain.

Removing your final garments, you reached a hand back out of the closed stall, dropping them to the floor beside where your towel was hanging up, and twisting on the shower. Across the room, in the men’s showers, you heard Newt let out a loud and dramatic groan, a giggle on your lips as he did.

“I have never appreciated hot water more.”

“Speak your truth, Newt.” You teased, hearing his laugh as you stepped under the stream of water yourself, face tilted up into the spray and eyes closing, letting yourself be ridden of the day’s stresses. You didn’t want to look down, and see the colour that the water would run, you didn’t want to see any of it, the blood or the mud, you just wanted to let it all disappear, without having to acknowledge any of it again. Keeping your eyes closed, you reached for the wash-proof bag, unzipping it and feeling inside, fingers dancing over the bottles within to tell their shape.

Shampoo first, scrubbing through the tresses of your hair to remove the built-up grime, feeling the ponytail you’d put it in all slip away, the dull pain on your scalp soothing as your fingers massaged gently through your hair, pressing into the sore flesh, and you finally let a satisfied noise of your own bubble up. The squeaking of the doors on the other side of the room signified that Newt was finished long before you were, padding of wet feet, and as you moved onto the conditioner, you could faintly hear the slamming of his locker through the water as you washed the strands.

You didn’t hear when he actually left, the thundering of the water as it ran over your heart, the pounding of your own heartbeat inside of your head, but you sensed when he had left, the room feeling a little colder when you were alone. If a few stray tears escaped you to be washed away by the water when you scrubbed down your body and let the herbal soak absorb into your muscles, then nobody had to know, letting them be shed in honour of the boy who’d lost his life while trying to improve it.

You worked slowly and silently, wrapping the towel around yourself, and finding it a little easier to breathe as you wiped a space free in the steamed up mirror with your hand to be able to see. It was like a weight had been lifted from your chest, leaving you able to take your breaths more smoothly, less ragged and strained, and your headache was beginning to fade. You felt better for being clean, your entire body aching but a little more relieved and nowhere near as tense, and you sighed, hands gripping the edge of the sink.

It was hard to forgive yourself sometimes when you lost a patient, it was never easy to watch someone die, but you’d done everything you possibly could to make it easier, and thanks to your team, he’d seen his family before he passed, and that was a blessing that made everything feel easier to bear.

Taking care of your skin and running a comb through the towel-dried strands of your hair, you were almost falling asleep as you dried it. The repetitive humming of the hairdryer was enough to make your eyes close and mind stop spinning, coming to a halt as everything began to slip from consciousness, your muscles feeling heavy for an entirely new reason, and you jerked yourself back away several times.

Following it all, you grimaced at the taste in your mouth, the bitter aftertastes of your physical reaction to the day still lingering, and so you were generous with the dollop of toothpaste you served yourself as you scrubbed lazily at your teeth and rinsed out your mouth. Scooping up your clothes and pulling on your spare set, you shoved everything grubby and used into your bag to take home, swapped with your fresh clothes, but you didn’t get dressed entirely.

Deep down, you knew that Vince wouldn’t mind if you slacked on your uniform just this once, and so for comfort, instead of pulling on another smart button-up uniform shirt, you went for your hoodie instead, the worn logo of your college in the top corner as it faded, a hole in one sleeve that your thumb would fit through, your hair pulled from underneath the collar to sit limply around your shoulders.

You didn’t care for boots, either, two pairs of socks to keep your feet warm, before you were pulling the sleeves down over your hands, and wandering away to the main room, to try and find your team, and seek reassurance and company within their presence. It was unsettling quiet in there too, only the sounds of Newt’s pen tapping on the table as he worked silently on the puzzles in the newspaper, and the sounds of the almost muted television that Thomas was staring at, one of the older ‘Star Wars’ movies playing on the screen, but from the way he was staring at it, you knew his mind was miles away.

There were only seven in the room, including yourself. Gally and Chuck were playing chess at the kitchen counter, Newt doing the puzzles and Thomas watching television, and Brenda was sitting at the other end of the table with Minho, the two of them each with their headphones in and listening to music, but sitting close enough to one another to seek comfort, and your lips flicked up a little, happy for them, taking it at their own pace. You weren’t sure where everyone else was, but logically, you would assume that they would be sleeping the day away.

Moving across the room, you reached immediately for the kettle, ruffling Chuck’s curls as you passed by, and he huffed under his breath, but a smile was on his flushed cheeks as you glanced back at him, a friendly wink for his complaints, before you were filling the tank up under the tap. Once it was clicked on and beginning to boil, you began to search through the cupboards for what you wanted, smiling as the ingredients came together.

Placing a pan on the stove, you flicked the flame onto the lowest setting you could get, and adding milk to the pan to begin to warm through, without boiling over. Opening up a bag of marshmallows, you popped on into your mouth, chewing at the squishy treat happily, and opening up the cupboard filled with assorted mugs, finding your favourite.

As you found the one you searched for, you placed it down on the counter, before another was following, and another, until there were seven mugs lined up in front of you, all mismatching in size and colour, some with pictures, patterns or writing. A generous spoonful of chocolate powder into the bottom of each one, your personal collection of hot chocolate ingredients, but you were willing to share just this once.

With a splash of boiling water, just enough to dissolve the powder, you topped each one up with the milk as soon as it began to froth around the edges, heated all the way through, and leaving a gap at the top. A sprinkle of marshmallows on the surface of the steaming beverage, and a spray of whipped cream into a pretty swirl, you decorated the top of each one with a few more marshmallows and a dash of chocolate dusting.

They weren’t perfect, there were drips of chocolate and cream along the edges, and they certainly weren’t anything you would serve at a restaurant, but as you placed one down in front of both Gally and Chuck, the looks on their faces were more than enough to confirm that they didn’t care about the appearance.

There was surprise on their features, brows raising as they looked between you and the hot beverages, whispered ‘thank yous’ as their fingers wrapped around it, pulling the mugs towards themselves and staring down at them, small smiles taking over. Minho had the same reaction, and Brenda stopped her music long enough to wrap you into a tight hug as you offered one to her, before Newt was sighing out happily, his head rolling back to look up at you when you'd placed a mug down in front of him. He’d given you a cheesy grin, and told you just how much he loved you, before taking a large gulp, and cursing a little as it burned his tongue, but not letting it deter him from repeating the action, and getting a print of whipped cream along his upper lip to be licked away.

Taking the last of the drinks to be given away, you made your way over to the couch. Thomas had seemingly had the same idea as you, a jumper on and the hood pulled up over his head to hide his face, and he jumped as you placed a hand onto his shoulder. You squeezed in apology as he turned to look at you, the sombre look on his face lightening a little bit as he tried to offer you a smile, twisting to face you a fraction more.

Rounding the edge of the couch to hand him the drink, surprise flickered over his features, before he was taking it into two trembling hands, and bringing it up to his nose to sniff lightly. He poked his tongue out, fishing a marshmallow and a scoop of whipped cream from the top, and he hummed contentedly at the flavour.

“Thank you.”

His voice cracked as he spoke, and you hoped the smile on your face didn’t look too pitying, only able to nod your head as he stared up at you, blowing on the steamy liquid as the cream melted, and your fingers rubbed gently at his shoulder where you still held on, before your hand was sliding away, stepping back a little, and his eyes snapped up from the drink to you, brows furrowing, before he was reaching a hand out, wrapping around the wrist that had been closest to him, and bringing you to a halt.

“Will you sit with me? Please?”

“Of course, I will. Let me just go and get my drink, okay?” He paused in releasing your wrist, fingers unwrapping slowly, and he took a sip of his hot chocolate as he settled back into the cushions. Grabbing at your drink, Newt watched as you went, his brows raising as you caught his eye, and you shrugged, the porcelain hot in your hand as you held onto it, almost enough to burn, and you switched to gripping the handle, swirling it a little to mix the melted cream into your drink.

Sinking down into the couch beside him, he shuffled a little closer, your legs folding under you until his thigh was pressing to your knee as you faced him, mug placed down on the table, and he leaned forwards, matching the positions, before he was running a hand over his face, and letting his gaze find your own.

“Are you okay, Thomas?”

“Not really.” He mumbled, looking completely and utterly exhausted, and you felt sorry for him, true empathy surging through you, and propped your head up on your hand, elbow on the back of the couch, as you looked at him. “You know, I think you lied to me. I think you told me what I needed to hear in the moment, but I don’t think it was the truth.”

You sighed, a short exhale as you tried to find words, and his lips flicked up at the sides, head dipping for s second, before he was looking up shaking his head slightly.

“I’m not mad. You knew what was best for me. I needed you, and you didn’t fail me. Thank you.” He whispered, the words just for you, and your lips pursed, feeling a little flustered at the way he stared at you; earnestly, eyes searching your own. “Will you tell me what happened, though?”

“You don’t want that, Thomas.”

“I do. Please, just tell me about the kid.” His request was desperate, and there was a silver lining to the incredibly dark cloud, thunder and lightning swirling within, and he choked down the lump in his throat as your shoulders sagged.

“He went comfortably. He didn’t feel a thing. I promise.” His eyes closed, a shaky breath let out, and his face screwed up a little as he tried to hold in his tears. He sniffled, before letting out a weak sigh, knowing that he was failing, and as he blinked, his lashes came back wet, a large tear falling along pale cheeks, before another was following. “His parents, they saw it on the news. They came right down, and his mother held his hand as he passed. He got to see his siblings, and his mom and dad. He didn’t die alone.”

He let out a weak cry, and you heard the shuffling at the table, the rustling of the papers as Newt moved, but his chair didn’t scrape across the floor yet, clearly waiting to judge whether or not his best friend needed him or not first.

“His dad was so proud of him, Thomas. He was the oldest of four, he was making all of them so proud, and thanks to you, he passed on peacefully.” Honey eyes that were encased with red opened up to meet your gaze, lower lip wobbling a little as he released it from where it was held between his teeth, and in this moment, he was weak. He wasn’t the lieutenant of the team, he wasn’t a leader or a fighter, he was just a man who’d experienced a tragedy. “You saved him, Thomas. You made his last moments something peaceful and meaningful.” You paused, waiting a second longer, letting him calm himself. “He told me to thank you, on behalf of his family.”

“He did?” You nodded, and his lips flicked up at the sides, a hint of a smile. Lifting a hand, you wiped away his tears, brushing your fingers over wet skin, before you were cupping one of his cheeks in your palm, and his eyes fluttered shut, leaning into your touch as he let out a shaky breath. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

He smiled, softly, twisting his head to press more into your touch, and you swept your thumb over his face, tracing soft and damp skin, the pad brushing lightly over the upturned tip of his nose, and his face scrunched up a little at the ticklish feeling. “How do you always know just what to say to make me feel better?”

“I don’t know, it just comes to me, I guess. What you need to hear, it’s always just the truth.”

“Thank you.” He mumbled, lashes fluttering as his eyes remained closed, relaxing into your touch, and the cushions on the other side of you dipped. Glancing over your shoulder, you chuckled a little as Brenda sat down, leaning over to wrap an arm over your waist, her head coming down to rest on your shoulder, and she turned the volume on the movie up, cuddling into you a little as she sought out comfort too, a chuckle on your lips as she did.

You shuffled, sitting to face her a little more, and Thomas moved with you, keeping his face tucked into your hand, before Newt was following. On the other side of the couch, Newt slumped down, patting Thomas on the back lightly, before kicking his feet up on the coffee table, and reaching across to take Thomas’ hot chocolate, the brunette completely unaware of the theft that had taken place. Gally sat in the armchair, and Minho sat on the edge of the couch, arm stretched out along the back of the couch behind Brenda’s head, and Chuck sat on the floor.

Nobody said anything, nobody needed to, as you all simply watched the movie that had been chosen, letting the day be washed away as you served out the rest of your shift, ready to go home, and let a bad day be washed away by many more good days to come. Pulling your hand back for just as second, Thomas let out a noise of discontentment, his eyes cracking open to peer at you, a frown forming on his lips.

Lifting up a little higher, you pushed his hood down, adjusting it around his shoulders carefully, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you as everyone else watched the movie, leaning in just an inch, nothing noticeable, but enough to keep the bubble between you both, and your fingers laced into his hair.

A rumbling of bliss left him as your nails scraped lightly at his scalp, playing lightly with his hair to soothe him, the strands still very faintly damp from his shower, and he simply stared at you, head tipping into your hand as his body began to loosen of tension.

“I got you, Thomas, don’t worry.”

He didn’t respond, the first genuine smile you’d seen since the beginning of the shift being offered to you, his eyes closing, and he lifted a hand to wrap around your wrist delicately, fingers smoothing up along the back of your palm, resting over your hand and holding it lightly as you played with his hair. Turning your head to the movie, your attention was split, between what was happening on screen, and more overwhelmingly, with the intense feeling of belonging that was flooding you, never having felt more welcome than you did right now.

#thomas #firefighter!tommy #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #smoke and fire #SAF #thomas the maze runner #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #thomas x reader smut #thomas/reader smut

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wecantseeyou · 3 years

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a note on color - how line of duty series 6 uses wardrobe to frame narrative (pt 1)

author’s note: this began as a personal observation on the use of cool tones for AC-12 and warm tones in opposition to AC-12, and evolved into a spreadsheet tracking most every outfit 3 of the 4 leads wear in every episode (through 6).

Why Jo, Kate, and Steve?

Jo: This is ultimately a rumination on Jo and her character, and the non-textual ways the show indicates Jo’s feelings, actions, and allegiances.

Kate: Jo’s major emotional connection in the series. Kate’s wardrobe often mirrors Jo’s in both style and color, and Kate’s wardrobe also gives hints to Jo’s true identity, while also reminding the audience of her allegiance with AC-12 (in both principles and action)

Steve: As the face of AC-12 in many ways (especially in this season, whereas past seasons that would’ve been Kate), Steve’s wardrobe is the control. He is firmly planted as an anti-corruption officer, is an ally of Kate, and he acts as Jo’s foil.

Why not Hastings?: Lord knows I love Ted, but the man really only ever wears his uniform (which is an entirely different essay about his views of the police force, ‘bent coppers’, and the ‘bad apples’ view of addressing police misconduct)

Some of the colors folks wear are difficult to quantify - I note circumstances where a shirt or sweater could be interpreted as multiple colors, and some instances where I believe that open interpretation is intentional. To be incredibly simplistic for how I coded the colors, cool tones are the good guys, and warm tones are the bad guys. Where possible, I have included reference images for the outfits I’m discussing (low quality screencaps ahead).

It took me some time to choose the organization of this essay, but ultimately there’s only one way to really do it - scene to scene. So buckle in, cause this is a doozy. I’m posting just episode 1 today, and then plan to post analyses breaking down the other episodes through Saturday. Essay under the cut.

DISCLAIMER: I’m American, so there’s likely something about the UK that I miss here. Alas, we’ll persevere. I barely edited this because I’m no longer a student and don’t have that kind of time. Also, I already wrote one dissertation and I refused to admit I wrote another one.

METHODOLOGY

To kick off, I went through and looked at every outfit worn by Jo Davidson and Kate Fleming, and most worn by Steve Arnott, in series 6. Steve acts as my control because he begins and ends my sample as a working member of AC-12, which for the purposes of this narrative represents police who are not corrupt. He is exclusively shown in cool tones in every scene I discuss here. Kate serves to bridge that gap in analysis between Jo and Steve - she is anti-corruption through and through, but she is no longer a member of AC-12, and she also has a close relationship with Jo, which is clearly romantic in tone. Kate often wears cool tones and white, but the occasional brown, orange, and green pop up (hold that thought on green). Jo is my main focus of my analysis, because I believe her wardrobe is most clearly impacted by the struggle between internal desires and external pressures. She wears a range of colors, but most frequently it is a combination of warm and cool tones. For the purpose of this analysis, black is considered a warm tone, white is both cool and absent allegiance, and grey is considered a cool tone.

THESIS

Since the first episode of series 6, Line of Duty has used color to indicate that Jo Davidson is not bent by aligning her with the tone of AC-12 as a whole and Kate Fleming specifically. TL;DR: The show has used wardrobe to tell us that Jo is not (intentionally) bent from the beginning.

Jo isn’t ‘bent’ in that she doesn’t want to be corrupt, but she’s forced to be. Surrounded on all sides by the OCG because of her uncle/father, Tommy Hunter, Jo therefore has no choice but to follow OCG orders for fear for her life. The show works to show us this visually in a few ways. Cool tones, representing ‘justice’ through AC-12, are seen throughout her screen time, but they are often peppered with warm tones, representing corruption and the OCG. This is true of her wardrobe overall, but is perhaps most succinctly demonstrated in her apartment. Keep these thoughts in mind as I break down each outfit.

EPISODE 1

There are points where the wardrobe informs us of things that the text directly contradicts. For instance, in the opening scene of episode 1, Jo arrives at the Hill wearing a black coat over a dark grey turtleneck, and is shown talking to Lomax about a new lead in the Gail Vella murder investigation. She is then shown talking to Buckells about this lead, an unknown CHIS who claims to have spoken with a man named Ross Turner who claimed to have killed Gail. The interaction seems innocuous, and Buckells denies permission for a raid on Turner’s home, but look more carefully at the dialogue here. Jo is manipulating Buckells by presenting him with information about the source, including that he was a sex worker and speculating on his potential drug use. These two factors are what makes Buckells hesitate, and he ultimately stops the raid from being carried out that night.

While Jo in this scene seems to push Buckells to give permission for the operation, Jo’s dark wardrobe is telling the audience that something else is happening on another level here. We learn later that Jo would take advantage of Buckells baser instincts and desire for upward advancement in order to manipulate him, which is what she does in this scene. She specifically mentions the CHIS’s sex work and the potential drug use because she knows Buckells will worry about the reliability of the witness and want more to go off of, hence cancelling the operation. Jo’s dark clothes hint at her manipulation of Buckells while the audience is not yet clued in.

The next time we see Jo during the team briefing about Ross Turner is also the first time we get a hint at the fliration between her and Kate. Jo’s “dirty stop-out” line and Kate’s “glass houses, boss” response, coupled with Jo’s smile that she hides by looking down show a clear shift in tone. The black jacket is removed, and she’s wearing a grey turtleneck. Jo is slightly more at ease here, enjoying the easy banter. Meanwhile, Kate is wearing a cream/light brown sweater, our first visual clue of her separation from AC-12 and her connection to Jo.

Note here that Jo’s black jacket was on top of her grey turtleneck, and could be removed. The turtleneck, a very modest and in some ways restrictive top, also serves as an armor Jo wears to brace herself against her own actions.

When the operation to arrest Ross Turner is approved, Jo again dons a black jacket under her body armor, while Kate wears a green coat under her body armor. Jo putting on the black jacket is symbolic of how she is about to waylay the team with the staged armed robbery at the bookie, allowing time for the OCG to replace Owen Banks with Terry Boyle. Kate’s green coat is symbolic of her mixed allegiances between AC-12’s blue and Jo’s yellow.

Later, when debriefing the operation with Lomax and discussing the importance of learning the CHIS’s identity, Jo and Kate are back to the grey and cream sweaters they were wearing earlier. Their banter is also back with Kate’s “great minds” line, demonstrating their comfort and also telling the audience these two women are in sync with one another.

Immediately after this series of scenes, we see Steve for the first time. His first scene is at AC-12, wearing a grey suit, white shirt, and red tie, when he is notified that Farida Jatri is there to see him. We learn in the next scene, where Steve is in a blue suit with a blue shirt and blue tie, that Farida brought her concerns about Jo to AC-12, particularly about the odd armed robbery that Jo spotted. He asks Hastings for permission to look into it further, which is granted. The all blue outfit on Steve represents his desire to root out potential corruption in this complaint. He continues to wear this outfit for most of the episode when dealing with the investigation and MIT.

(Note: there’s an interlude scene here of the MIT crew in crime scene suits at Terry’s, but I’m not including that here.)

We next see Jo with Lomax, interrogating a frightened Terry Boyle, while Kate watches the video feed of the interview. Jo is wearing another grey turtleneck, but this time is wearing a grey jacket, while Kate watches on with a cream oversized sweater. The interview with Terry goes nowhere for the most part, as he refuses to comment, which seems to be to Jo’s relief. Kate, however, clearly isn’t done.

Donned in a green mockneck and navy suit, Kate visits the crime scene at Terry’s apartment again. This green top still aligns her with both AC-12 and Jo, but the navy suit serves as a reminder that she doesn’t think the MIT has the full story on Terry Boyle.

Later, we see Kate in the same outfit debriefing Jo on the new information at the crime scene, namely that there is no new information because it’s been wiped clean. Jo is wearing a grey suit jacket, brown sweater, and a white shirt. Both agree that Terry isn’t a solid suspect, and want the ID of the CHIS in order to confirm that he’s the man identified as Ross Turner. Jo’s layering here is interesting - cool tone, warm tone, cool tone. She agrees with Kate externally, she knows Terry is in the frame for Vella’s murder, and she doesn’t feel comfortable pursuing Terry as a suspect she knows is innocent.

They then visit the CHIS’s handler, who refuses to give up his informant’s ID, but reveals to Kate that he is concerned about the CHIS’s welfare. Kate is wearing a long navy coat, while Jo is wearing a long grey coat with a blue and orange scarf. Kate wants to know the CHIS’s ID to genuinely pursue justice, hence the blue, while Jo wants the CHIS’s ID for ostensibly the same reason, but for her, pursuing justice with the CHIS would also clear Terry’s name. Jo doesn’t want Terry to be punished because he’s innocent, but she also knows a negative ID on Terry will lead to trouble for her with the OCG.

We see Jo in the same outfit minus outerwear in the next few scenes - when she is called into Buckell’s office and convinces him to put pressure on for the CHIS’s ID (while Kate watches), and later when Kate informs her that there was a surveillance gap on Terry Boyle’s flat due to the wrong authority being sought. Jo pushes Buckells and manipulates him to reveal the CHIS’s ID, and also blames him for the gap that she’s responsible for, hence the warm coloring of her sweater. Kate, meanwhile, is showing her allegiance to Jo by telling her about the gaffe, the green of her shirt being the visual representation of that act.

Next we have a scene of Steve looking at CCTV of the armed robbery, and their suspicions are raised about the speed the convoy was traveling and the likelihood that Jo could have actually spotted it. Again, Steve is in an all blue outfit.

Back to our favorite murder investigators, Lomax, Jo, and Kate arrive on the scene of a murder victim which turns out to be their missing CHIS. Jo is dressed in a long grey coat, green sweater, and light blue shirt, while Kate is rocking a long navy coat, navy suit, and an orange and navy striped turtleneck. Later at MIT, Kate and Jo discuss the CHIS further, lamenting the loss of the only witness who could ID Terry as Ross Turner. Throughout this scene, Jatri is watching the two of them interact. Jatri then calls Steve, in a grey suit with a blue tie, and tells him she can no longer be an informant.

Round two of interviewing sweet Terry begins, with Jo in the same outfit and Kate watching on video, again in the same striped turtleneck. They all seem to think Terry is hiding something, but Kate seems taken aback at some of Jo’s lines of questioning (Vicky McClure, expert reactor) but is mostly saddened by Terry. Later, Steve meets with Kate outside of Hillside and they discuss his inquiry into Jo. She refuses to help, but gives him the name Carl Banks as someone to look into.

We then see Jo arrive at Farida’s house with a suitcase, moving out her final belongings after their breakup, where they have a row over Jo’s refusal to introduce Farida to her nonexistent family. After, Jo returns to her own apartment with its 18 dead bolts. Nearly the entire place is blue - the walls, the furniture, even the refrigerator. However, those warm tones pop up throughout - lemons on the counter, golden pillows in the living room, gold lights framing the picture of her mother. Jo at her heart is good and believes in justice, but she has been groomed and manipulated by the OCG into acting against her nature in the name of self-preservation. She is blue, but the pops of gold and yellow of the OCG catch the eye.

The following scene shows Jo getting chewed out by Buckells in the briefing room in full view of the rest of MIT, again in the green sweater and blue shirt. Kate looks on in concern, still wearing the orange and navy striped sweater. Buckells storms out, and Jo rushes into the hallway. Kate follows quickly behind, asking after Jo, who vents her frustrations with the pressure to charge Terry with murder because she knows it isn’t right and wants to find real justice for Gail. The color choices in this scene are clear. Kate is wearing orange and navy, highlighting both her connection to Jo and her pursuit of justice. Jo is wearing green, combining the blue of her heart and the pollution of OCG yellow, with a light blue shirt, again highlighting her true self and alignment with Kate.

This also highlights something we don’t learn until episode 6 - Jo wanted Kate on her team to keep her in check and be a barrier to the things the OCG was asking her to do. This includes the arrest of Terry Boyle. Jo specifically identifies several odd things about the recent evidence - and tells Kate that something doesn’t add up, essentially encouraging the DI to look into these inconsistencies further. This is her way of looking for help when she still feels trapped in many ways.

Of course, no analysis of this scene would be complete without mentioning the hand grab and subsequent hold. They’re gay, kids!

The final scene shows Jo watching as Terry Boyle is released and remanded to police bail, a look of relief on her face. Because yeah, she’s done a lot of bent things, but Jo isn’t bent.

And that’s where the episode wraps.

Stay tuned for more wardrobe analysis tomorrow!

#line of duty #jo davidson #kate fleming #steve arnott #lod spoilers #line of duty spoilers #flemson #kate x jo #so sorry to anyone who follows me for cr but I do love a good crime drama #anyways defund the police #this is fully unedited pursue with caution

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oathofoaksart · 3 years

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YOUNG JUSTICE/DC OC: JO “LOVETAP” SHINODA

bio under the cut!

BASICS

Name: Josephine Shinoda

A.K.A: Lovetap; Jo, Jojo, Jo-Hoe, Tap

Age: 29 [S3]

Gender: Cisgender Female

Orientation: Bisexual

Occupation: Music Store Owner, Star Sapphire Corps Member

Race: Human

Ethnicity: Japanese-Caucasian

Location: Santa Monica, California

Hometown: Hana, Maui; Hawaii

Skin: Fairly suntanned with visible bikini tanlines, lightly freckled around the nose and cheekbone area

Hair: Naturally black with a blonde ombre gradient, gradient turns dark magenta when powered up.

Eyes: Red-Brown [civvies], Glowing magenta sclera with white-pink irises [powered up]

Height: 5'4

Build: Well-toned, with strong arms and legs; ample curved.

Distinctions: Inscription of the One Ring tattooed on her right shoulder blade, fond of yoga pants and loose band muscle shirts combo

RELATIONS

Parents: Haruto and Tara Shinoda

Siblings: Jack "Daiichi" Shinoda (twin brother; deceased)

Friends: Emi Homura (deceased), Ghia'ta, Carol "Star Sapphire" Ferris, Guy "Green Lantern" Gardner, Leiko “Inari” Ara [OC], Tora "Ice" Olafsdotter, Shayera “Hawkgirl” Hal, Hank “Hawk” Hall, Don “Dove” Hall, Charlie “Scribe” Jenson [OC]

Partner/s: Several noncommittal relationships and one-nighters; Bryce "Red Lantern" Richards [OC] (ev.)

Misc.: Queen Aga'po, Gi "Riot/Geode" Flores [OC]

Affiliations: The Star Sapphire Corps, The Justice League

PERSONALITY

Personality Type: ENFJ-A [Assertive Protagonist]

Temperament: Sanguine-Choleric

Alignment: Neutral Good

Relaxed | Positive | Idealistic | Sensitive | Stubborn

Jo is the poster girl for the coastal surfer babe; laid-back, fun-loving, and friendly. She’s an honest woman, though not scathing, which makes her a go-to for advice and well-placed encouragement. Because of her many interests, she meets and makes friends in all walks of life, often making her the social link between vastly different groups. Her passion rears its head in concern of humanitarian subjects, from LGBTQ+ issues to food crises, and will jump at the chance to lend aid.

This is especially true as Lovetap, where she feels she has a more hands-on approach in doing good. Her personality doesn’t change in costume as it does amplify, she stays playful and lighthearted in tense situations, but her morals are steadfast. Tap is a loyal and dedicated ally to her fellow Sapphires and friends in the Justice League circle, and a personable hero to civilians she encounters.

She’s very well-meaning, but she also tends to bite more than she can chew. This becomes a problem when she’s too headstrong to admit she needs a breather and will continue shouldering the weight until someone steps in. It also applies to her emotions, Jo is quick to lend a shoulder to cry on, but struggles to admit when something is amiss in her personal life in fear of bogging down others. Her way of coping with her problems is usually done by busying herself with projects, but sooner or later it becomes too much and she’ll spiral.

ABILITIES AND WEAKNESSES

Powers and Abilities

Violet Energy Conduit: As part of the Star Sapphire Corps, Jo wields a Violet Power Ring. Like most power rings on the emotional spectrum, it allows Jo the ability of flight, survival in vacuums, manipulation of energy, creation of force fields, creation of light constructs at will, and tap into a xenolinguistic database. Because the Violet ring is powered by love, it also has attributes found only in the Sapphire Corps.

Love Empathy: Love is the center of the Sapphire Corps and much of the Sapphire’s abilities tie to it. Jo can detect feelings and connections of love from which she can draw power from outside her actual power battery. She can also form connection tethers to people she feels close with, she can use these tethers to know if the other person may be in possible danger and quickly teleport to their side. Being around other Sapphires greatly increases her power as they feed off each other’s love like an echo chamber.

Crystallization: Special to the Star Sapphire Corps is the creation of Star Sapphire crystals, often in conjunction to their energy constructs. These crystals can also be used to encase a victim and place them in suspended animation, in some cases able to use the victim as an extra power source by influencing them with love. Jo personally doesn't like to take it up to this point, as she finds it too intrusive.

Violet Energy Constructs: Jo is able to conjure light constructs at will, her ring being able to create any object. Jo is fond of using mecha-like weapons, classic horror and kaiju characters, and figures from her favorite Kurasawa movies.

Healing Capabilities: Jo’s ring not only lets her heal at an accelerated rate, but also heal injuries of, or even revive, others provided she has a strong enough connection to share the life energy for such a feat.

Avarice Immunity: Because Jo’s love is of the selfless sort, Jo is immune to the attacks of an Orange Lantern as long as her love stays that way.

Limitations and Weaknesses:

Emotional Instability: The Sapphire ring is a double-edged sword in that while it's formidable in raw power, it can easily turn against Jo with an overload of emotion. If she’s not careful, the ring can influence her day-to-day life from being overly jealous and protective of those she cares for, to being too sensitive of her own feelings. In a worst case scenario, the ring can completely overcome Jo’s mind and force her into a frenzy.

Ring Dependency: Without her ring, Jo reverts to an average human woman, so she is entirely dependent on her ring for protection and offence. It’s necessary for her to have her ring on at all times or at least on her person should the need arise.

HISTORY

Born second of fraternal twins, Josephine Shinoda lived an idyllic lifestyle with her parents and brother in her hometown of Hana, in Maui, Hawaii. Jo and her brother Jack were an especially close pair of siblings, sharing interests from surfing with their father to classic pop culture. Jo was the much more extroverted sibling and had no trouble making friends where she went, whereas Jack had difficulty asserting himself socially; Jo often made strides to make her friends friends of Jack’s. This continued all through their young school life, even as Jack’s social anxiety gave way to depression. Jo and her parents were supportive of him throughout, and continued to be so when the twins finally separated when college came around.

Jo chose to study in Los Angeles whereas Jack left for Metropolis. Admittedly the distance worried Jo for a while, but college proved to be an overall good experience for Jack, especially once after the introduction of his later girlfriend, Emi.

Jo spent her college years partying and submercing herself into the music scene, eventually sparking the idea of opening a music store after college. Jack jumped at the idea with Emi right behind, she also being involved in music via playing guitar for an alternative band. Jo and Emi became solid friends in their own right, meeting and sharing even more when Jo would visit on the occasion.

Not long after college, Jo learned Jack had proposed to Emi and was elated by the news. The three went into making wedding plans, but things were cut short two months into the engagement. Jack and Emi were caught in a fatal car crash, leaving Jo inconsolable. After their respective funerals and some time reflecting, Jo followed through with opening a music shop in their honor, “JJ’s Music and Records.”

Jo operated in LA for a handful of years before deciding to expand out of her comfort zone and opening another store somewhere else. With an intern in tow, they settled on Bludhaven, where Jo spent another few years. Despite how well her business was doing and that her life was going in a good direction, Jo hadn’t been able to shake off the loss of her two closest friends. She was restless and tried to bury her feelings by distracting herself with anything she could involve herself in, as she didn’t want to set this worry on anyone, especially her parents. Jo was steadily wrapping herself into a depression and refused to admit it. She returned to LA in hopes that the move and reconnecting with old friends would clear her mind.

With no such luck, Jo proceeded to shell within herself. Her days dulled and she became stuck in routine, spending most of her time in the shop and locking herself at home. While in a particular bad spell, Jo decided to go to the beach to surf and Jo was caught in a minor car crash herself. She wasn’t injured, but the experience was jarring and Jo’s previous experience with car accidents sent her into an emotional break.

At the same time, Ghia’ta, niece of Queen Aga’po of the Star Sapphires, arrived on Earth with an agenda. The Star Sapphires had experienced a bit of a moral shift, currently spearheaded by Ghia’ta, after she’d met a human by the name Carol Ferris. Carol had been inducted into the Star Sapphires in order to gain the upper hand on the Green Lantern, Hal Jordan, while he found himself on the Sapphire’s homeplanet of Zamarron. But Carol had resisted the Sapphires’ urging and instead gave Ghia’ta an alternate view of what love was, selfless and kind. Moved by Carol’s insight, Ghia’ta began to try to teach the other Sapphires this new view. She was met by rebuttal and while she continued to fight for reform, she knew doing so alone wasn’t going to get her far.

She’d come to Earth in search for a new Sapphire that could better follow Ghia’ta’s new outlook, as Carol chose not to join the Corps and Ghia’ta had gotten word of Earth’s Lanterns being of a special crop. What she came across was Jo, stranded and crying on the side of the road. Initially Ghia’ta approached her to see if she could be of any help, but to her surprise, her ring detected Jo’s broken heart. Jo’s loss of her brother and friend left a deep hole in her heart and Ghia’ta discovered that this was caused by the love stripped away from her. Sapphires, Ghia’ta included, believed true love to be inherently romantic, but while looking into Jo’s heart she found her love for her brother and friend to be just as true as any. Overjoyed at this realization, she decided to choose Jo as her new champion.

Jo was thrown for a loop. First by the appearance of this stranger who showed herself to be an alien who’d somehow read into why she felt the way she did, then by her request to join her galactic love brigade. Still Ghia’ta’s ring called out to her and the more she explained the situation of the Sapphires, the more Jo felt a sense of duty. Jo had never been the kind to turn down an opportunity to help, even if the road sounded steep, and so she accepted.

Jo became the newest member of the Star Sapphire Corps. Her induction was met with heavy scrutiny by the Zamarrons, the leaders of the Sapphire Corps, as she didn’t fit the perimeters in which they chose their new members. In a slight twist, Queen Aga’po allowed Jo to join as a “experiment” partially to show Ghia’ta her claims were being taken seriously and that Aga’po herself was becoming open to her niece’s words.

Jo still isn’t completely sure what she’s gotten herself into, but plans to make the most with what she was given. And she hopes, if there is an afterlife, that Jack and Emi could be at peace with what they helped aspire.

NOTES

For no reason other than personal preference, Lovetap is set on using a surfboard construct as her mode of flight, even during battle.

Jo is very athletic and a bit of a gym rat, enjoying activities from various sports to yoga. She is also an avid reader and lover of pop culture, reflecting in JJ’s as it doubles as a bookstore as well. She found a fellow Justice League ally with a pop culture store named Charlie Jenson and the two quickly made their store affiliates.

Jo’s birthday falls on Valentine’s Day and she finds the irony of it funny

Jo had a hardcore, but thankfully, short-lived, crush on Guy Gardner. It’s a secret she’ll take to the grave.

Jo learned how to play the acoustic guitar because of Emi and plays outside her LA store on nice days, something she eventually teaches her young friend and eventual mentee, Gi Flores.

Her father was a gourmet chef and much of what he knew he taught his children, Jo is a wicked cook, but is often too lazy to get creative with her dishes.

#meet the ocs #gar's oc #gar's art #young justice oc #oc #lantern oc #star sapphire oc #i wasn't even expecting to work on her any time soon #but jo possessed me and made me work on her bio in one sitting #it's kinda insane i never really finish bios that quickly

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bbykpoper · 3 years

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Chapter 2 // Masterlist

GENRE: mafia au, fluff, a bit of smut, a smudge of angst if you squint your eyes hard enough, possible fantasy????

SYNOPSIS: A centuries old feud which kept itself silent suddenly ignites once again as two warring gangs face each other for the first time. A family of established immortals who came together after the war, a band of humans who began remembering their past lives and officials breathing down their neck threaten the world once again as fantasy and reality clash in the form of a young man hell bent on being in the lead and a young woman hell bent on ending this meaningless feud. A story will unfold before you now, questioning your morals as well as grinding your nerves to the edge.

“A princess turned assassin?”

“A coward turned prince?”

Who will survive the last wave of this war?

°˖✧

Loud music blasted into the night as people stood around parked cars of different neon colours. Men boasted their engines, while women walked around with drinks in hand going to their respective groups of friends. Two men sighed by a neon orange car which had a few girls around it, glaring at the driver who was more than enjoying the attention.

“Jun, get a hold of yourself.” The man got a loud smack to his head. “We’re not here to entertain but to observe.”

“Whatever Song, they’re still not here.” The man named Jun answered, scratching his head and looking to the other young man for help.

“Don’t get me involved in this.” He laughed. “I’ve been told to expect them around 1 a.m. We have a few more minutes until then.” He turned.

“What else did you manage to find out Bobby?” Song looked over to him.

“NCT was invited especially for this race.” The chill in his voice summoned the night breeze. “It doesn’t sound good. It could be a deal or something more. But by the faces of some of Bangtan’s boys, it’s dangerous.”

“We can’t exactly interfere, nor can we arrest them.” Song sighed. “This is such a pain in the ass.”

“But hey, we’re the best at this job.” Jun smirked, looking on at the incoming cars. “Uh-oh, that doesn’t look good.”

The trio noticed a car stop not far from the black sleek 2006 Mazda RX-8. Three men got out and their eyes widened when they noticed NCT’s right-hand man Johnny, followed by their sharp shooter Bulls Eye and their bomb expert as well as head of operations Brain. They followed them walking with their eyes and almost sat down on their asses when they noticed four of Bangtan’s highest waiting for them.

“We need to report this to Han.”

“Don’t. Not yet.” Bobby grabbed a hold of the man before he could leave. “Everybody here is being observed right now. You don’t want to allert them to us, do you?”

Song kept still, glancing nervously at the scene unfolding before them.

°˖✧

Johnny buttoned his blazer as he came closer to the four individuals casually standing around a car with extremely prominent pink neon lights underneath it. The black 2006 Nissan 350Z stood out not only because of the pink details on the black body, but because of the young woman sitting on the hood of the car, her gaze fixed on the group of young teens in the distance by the starting line of the track. Her booted feet were dangling off the edge as her baggy pants covered her long legs, three to four sleek belts firmly tied around her thigh. A simple crop top covered her upper body, a small purple heart hidden on the hem. Her face sported the usual black mask, something which became a trademark for her. Johnny couldn’t take his eyes off of the girl, his breath stopping in his throat as he became starstruck by the white haired beauty before him.

“Close your mouth pretty boy, she’ll notice the drool coming from your mouth.” The sudden whisper had Johnny backing up, his gaze turning to the smirking man beside him. “I would have never taken you to be a scaredy cat Johnny boy.”

“I never took you to be a trickster Mastema.” Johnny cleared his throat as all the attention turned to him.

“How come?” The black haired man looked at him, his mouth forming a smirk. “Didn’t little Jaemin tell you what I’m like?”

“You’ve met him?” Brain now stepped forward but was short in his path, the tip of a large blade eerily pressed agains his neck. “What the-”

“Place the blade down baby, we don’t want to scare our guests.”

“He wanted to hit you.” Her voice was so soft and soothing, it took all three NCT boys by surprise. “He represents danger to you and I don’t like it.”

“Ah, you’re so cute.” The black haired man known as Mastema spoke out, coming up to hug her and lower her arm which held the weapon. “He won’t attack me, because I have you.”

The girl backed up, placing the sword before her, both hands placed on the decorative grip as she stood back and glared at the men. Johnny noticed only then the lotus flower around her exposed belly button and his mind started wandering.

“Eyes here Johnny.” His view was blocked by the one man that never left the girl’s side.

“Now look what you’ve done.” Mastema sighed. “You’ve angered poor Solas.”

“Where is Jaemin?!” Brain yelled out, catching the attention of the three.

“Tell you what, if any of you manage to beat my top driver I’ll tell you where he is.” Mastema smiled, his eyes sharp as ever. “But if you lose, you’ll have to tell me why you sent one of your own into our ranks.”

“We don’t have a driver.” The third person, Bulls Eye, finally spoke up.

“I don’t see the issue with that. Why doesn’t Johnny boy drive? He did start out as one.” Mastema smirked. “You’ve taken an incredible ammount of cash from these races Johnny. I’m pretty sure you are qualified to drive.”

His jaw clenched and he looked over at the two men that came with him. Now he actually understood why Boss mentioned to take one of the cars. He really didn’t want to race, bad memories crawled into his mind before he even turned towards the car, but his eyes still went over to the girl. She was observing him too, her white hair falling around her masked face purely to taunt him. Those brown eyes stared right at him, lifeless and cold.

But he knew better.

“Yeonjun!” Mastema called out and young boy, with extremely pink hair walked over to him, a sudden blush creeping up on his cheeks. “Be sure to win this race.” The man’s eyes were sharp and held the promise of murder in them, the young boy nodding.

“Good luck Yeonjun.” Fae spoke up to him as he walked past her to the black Nissan.

“Thank you Lady Fae.” He squeaked out as his blush deepend.

This made Johnny furious and he was in the car in a blink of an eye. He started his engine and pulled up to the starting line as both Solas and Fae walked over to Mastema.

“How did you know he would agree to this Yoongi?” The girl asked, as she sheathed her sword.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Yoongi laughed as he looked over to the the cars speeding off. “He is sickeningly obsessed with you.”

Johnny had so many thoughts running through his head as he raced down the street, trying to catch up with the black nissan. Those brown eyes haunted him as he rapidly accelerated. On the other side, Brain and Bulls Eye glared at the three, the first of the two stepping out and demanding answers. Yoongi only put his finger on his own mouth, the smile never leaving his face.

“You need to be patient. You should already know that seeing as you build bombs for a living.” He laughed, when he heard a group cheering as Yeonjun passed the final check point before the finish line, his ass in front of Johnny. “Oh no, it seems Johnny boy has lost his flavour.”

The cars came into view, inches moving between the fronts as they neared the finish line. The girl observed closely, surprised and impressed at the skill NCT’s right hand man was showing. The cars passed the line, Yeonjun winning by a literal inch. Yoongi clapped in amusement as Johnny angrily slammed the door of the mazda.

“Well done Yeonjun, you never disappoint.” Yoongi spoke up as he walked over to Johnny and leaned on his mazda.

“Congradulations kid.” The girl patted the pink haired boy on the shoulder as he went to join up with his friends, a bright smile on his face.

“I’m waiting.” The three men looked at each other, none making a move to speak. “A deal’s a deal. You don’t want to go back on your word, right?”

“We just wanted some information.” Johnny sighed out.

“About?” Solas was becoming irritated by this whole thing and all three men noticed.

“The weapon deal you’re doing with the Chinese. We wanted to fuck that shit up so that we could take over the market there. But here we are.” Bulls Eye spoke up, rolling his eyes at the same time.

“Yuta Nakamoto.” Mastema spoke up. “I’d believe that story if it came from Johnny’s mouth, but seeing as it came from yours I’m having a hard time with it.”

“He’s not lying.” The girl suddenly spoke up, her eyes fixed on Yuta. “He is telling the truth but there is more behind it.”

“Perceptive.” Brain spoke up, his anger evident.

“He mentioned the Chinese. Beelzebub has had some issues with the shipments the past few months. I believe they are working with the Chinese but not to take over our market there.” She looked over at Johnny, their gazes trained on each other. “They most likely threatened you to take us out. They have something on you which you can’t refuse.”

“Oh my, it seems you were spot on Fae.” Yoongi laughed at the troubled look on the men’s faces. “So, what do they got over you?”

“How did you figure that one out?” Johnny asked. “Did Jaemin tell you?”

“No. She’s just really good at reading people.” Solas said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“They have our Chinese branch under control. They broke in and took over, placing our men into a full on hostage situation.” Johnny began explaining. “They contacted us about a month ago, demanding we take out the round table of Bangtan. They want your position in Asia.”

“Jesus, so you predicted this right it seems Fae.” Mastema sighed looking over at the girl. “Let’s go, we need to tell this to Forcas.”

“Wait, what about Jaemin?!” Brain yelled after the three and Mastema turned with a smile.

“You didn’t win the race.” He shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

The girl turned around and looked at the men, taking pitty on them and their devastated faces. She stopped in her tracks, Solas also stopping to wait for her. She looked over at Johnny who was already staring at her and her lifeless eyes turned darker as she spoke up.

“Na Jaemin is dead. I killed him.”

#kpop #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #kpop fiction #mafia au #fantasy au #johnny seo imagine #johnny suh imagines #nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #way v #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct scenarios #ikon #blackpink #bts

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missfluffywriter · 4 years

Text

Purple Irises I Mafia Park Jimin x Reader

Author’s note: Oh my god this is the longest one yet! This was the one I was most excited abouttt I just have so much fun writing this. Honestly I’m writing characters that are smarter than me so.. Well, I guess that’s it for me. Happy readings!

Word count: 17k

Genre: Mafia AU, (slight) Doctor au, (slight) Florist au

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

(Series) Summary: You were supposed to be delivering flowers, how did you end up in an operation room digging out a bullet from a mafia boss’ shoulder?

Purple Irises: Royalty and wisdom

Warnings: Guns, language, mention of drugs, inconsistant grammar

Previous Chapter I Next chapter I Masterlist

The gleaming marble floor radiantly reflected the soft yellow glow pouring from the many wall lights lining the tall corridors of the mansion. The comforting golden hues gave the mansion a fairytale-like atmosphere. Marvelous paintings of landscapes and flora hung along the walls of the hallway, the beautiful artworks further extenuating the luxurious beige decor of the lavish home, additionally contributing to fanciful aura it held.

The blistering heat of the day had been replaced by the coolness of the night, paired with the quiet placidity brought by the moon rise further soothed your tired mind and aching body. A strange thing to say considering this was the household of a prominent mafia gang.

“Is it always this peaceful?” You muse, admiring the calmness of the ambiance of the scene around you.

“Not always,” Chuckling, Jeongguk answers your peculiar question. What a thing to ask a mafioso. “But, I guess it’s been pretty calm the past week.”

Giving only a soft hum as an acknowledgment of his words, you silently continue the trek to the second kitchen. A strange thing really, walking to the kitchen late at night with Jeongguk of all people. But the oddity didn’t end there, seeing as Yoongi was the one who had called for everyone to meet at the kitchen.

Hours ago, just as your training for the day had ended. Jeongguk received a text message from Yoongi, practically commanding the youngster to the kitchen. On top of that, he had been given explicit orders to bring you with him.

“I wonder why Yoongi wanted everyone together,” You wondered aloud. “And in the kitchen of all places,”

“Well, I guess we’re about to find out,” Smiling, he pushes past the white double doors. Sighing, you nod, stepping into the room your (e/c) orbs land on the six men scattered around the kitchen space. And with Jeongguk’s arrival, all of Bangtan’s core members were present.

“There you guys are,” Jin is the first to greet you at the entrance. “You guys were the last to show up,” He says, a hand on his hip as he leaned his weight on one of his legs.

At his loud greeting, someone else’s ears perk up, that certain someone’s nose prickling with a familiar scent, a scent she had memorized ages ago. And your seventy-pound barrels towards the direction she picked up the smell where she essentially tackled into you, excitedly covering your face in slobbery wet kisses. Although Shelty was very happy, she got to spend the majority of the day with Jimin. She still very much so needed your attention and affection.

“It’s called being fashionably late,” A soft chuckle leaves your lips as you return your puppy’s excitement, ruffling the furs of her neck and placing kisses on her soft head.

“Come on you two, get you asses in here already,” Yoongi’s voice flares from beyond the kitchen island. Where he stood with an assortment of alcohols, colors ranging from rich hickory to a clear liquid. ‘Vodka?’

“So...” Pausing, your gaze flickers to the alcohol then to Jimin, who had been leaning against the kitchen island. “Is this like another unofficial meeting? Or?” You question the group.

“Not exactly, no,” Namjoon answers, coming to stand beside Yoongi. “This is more of a test,”

Eyes widening, you feel your body stiffening at Namjoon’s words. ‘A test? What kind of test?’ A cold ice-like feeling spreads from the center of your chest, a wave of panic hitting you full force. Palms getting cold as sweat pools in them, you wrack your brain for any hint or they might have dropped of this test, or what this test might entail, but try as you might you end up empty. They hadn’t spoken of a test, was this a surprise test?

The alarm you were feeling within must have been written across your expression as Namjoon let out a light laugh, waving his hands. “No, no, not that kind of test,” He explains, but the confusion doesn’t leave your expression.

“When he said test. He meant we’re here to test your alcohol tolerance,” A mildly grumpy Yoongi clarifies.

And you release a deep breath of relief as you feel your soul return to your body. Before giving Jimin a ‘and you’re okay with this?’ look. To which he simply shrugs with a soundless laugh.

“You guys are horrible,” Placing a hand on your chest, you feel the rapid thudding of your heart. “I was so worried,” Shuffling towards Jimin, you rest your elbows on the island, your entire body relaxing after hearing Yoongi’s clarification.

“Sorry, I didn’t make it clear,” The older male chuckles.

“Isn’t the gala tomorrow? I don’t want a hangover on the day of the gala,” Folding your arms, you stare down the white-blond. “And just why the hell do we need to test my alcohol tolerance anyway?” Grumbling, you glare at the alcohol sitting on the white marble counter.

“The gala’s at night, you’ll have time to recover” Handing you a high-ball glass with some clear liquid, Yoongi explains, though you hear the sarcasm seeping through his voice. “Besides, this if for the gala, we need to know when you’ve had enough,”

“I think I’ll know when I’ve had enough,” Taking the glass from the older male, a retort flies from your lips.

“Just drink,” The white-blond haired mafioso waves his hands for you to drink.

“You just wanted an excuse to drink didn’t you?” You say, bringing the high-ball glass closer to your lips, not entirely sure why you were going through with this.

“I don’t need an excuse,” Scoffing, Yoongi turns his back to the group. His elbows move back and forth as he prepares another drink. A distraught look taking hold on your face as you watched his back.

“So just wanted to see me drunk?” The distraught expression folding into a scowl, chaffing at the older mafioso.

“Yeah pretty much,”

“And you’re going along with this?” Turning to face the leader of the band, you incredulously ask the silver-blond.

“I don’t see the harm,” Amusement dripped from his honey-brown orbs, Jimin shrugs. “Besides I can’t say I’m not a little curious,” A sly smile curling on his lips as equal parts curiosity and amusement tango in his eyes.

“You guys are crazy,” Drawing out he ‘crazy’ you whine leaves, finally bringing the glass to your lips.

“Yeah, whatever, just drink it,” Yoongi urges you.

And for reasons unknown you comply, gulping down a mouthful and regretting your decision the minute the liquid touches your tastebuds. You suppress your natural response to spit out and push the godawful drink down your throat as it burns your esophagus the entire way there. “Bleh, why is it so bitter?!” You splutter, placing the glass on the island counter, doing a double-take on the drink in your hand.“What is that?” Head snapping to Yoongi, you ask.

“Vodka, now drink,” Handing Jimin a glass filled with familiar shades of yellows, oranges, and reds.

“Did you just give me straight up vodka?” You exclaim.

“No, there’s water mixed in,” Yoongi saunters back to the alcohols on the counter, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

“I want what Jimin has,” Demanding that you get a drink you actually like, instead of this bitter nightmare.

“No, that’s too light” You blanch at Yoongi’s nonchalance. “We need to get you drunk as soon as possible,”

“Why?” You lift an eyebrow at the male.

“Because,”

A quiet chuckle leaves Jimin’s lips as he watches the scene before him with interest. And though he was playing along for the moment, if you insisted you wanted a sunrise, he would have Yoongi prepare you a sunrise.

But, it doesn’t come to that as you down the rest of the clear liquid in a single go. Cringing at the bitter flavor of the drink. Jimin quietly observed as you scowled and grumbled while the white-blond poured.

In all honesty, he didn’t fully know himself as to why he was playing along, but he couldn’t resist the tug of curiosity when Yoongi had said he wanted to see what type of drunk you were.

His thoughts are interrupted with a soft ring and a vibration in his pocket, “I’m gonna take this outside,” He looks to you, waiting for you to give him a nod before looking to Namjoon then stepping outside the kitchen to the doors that led to the gardens.

“Park Jimin, how are things going?”A smile curved onto the mafia boss’ lips as he deep recognized the familiar deep voice that spoke through the phone.

“Matsuuru Tatsuya, things are going well,” He answered, placing a hand on his pocket as he leaned against the wall adjacent to the door. “What about on your end? Did the ship arrive in time?”

“That’s actually why I called you,”

Jimin alerted on Matsuuru’s words, pushing off the wall to a stand. “Did shipments not make it? Are you missing products?” He questioned.

“Oh, no, no,” Matsuuru assured with a chuckle, “I just wanted to personally tell you that not only have the ship and the goods arrived, but also thanks to the information so graciously provided by your hacker, we have begun the security system upgrades,”

“Is that right?” Posture relaxing, Jimin breathed out.

‘What?’ A strange confusion set in as his eyes fluttered, trying to process his own actions. Since when had he cared what happened to the goods after it left his hands? Never was the answer, he had never before cared what happened to products once out of his ownership, and yet when Matsuuru spoke of the shipment, his mind flew in a thousand different directions, thinking of what might have gone wrong. ‘Well damn,’ He cursed himself, ‘She’s rubbing off on me,’

“Yes, everything is moving much smoother than I expected,” Jimin’s body jerked when he heard the voice from the other line. He hadn’t realized when he had spaced out.

“That’s excellent,” He smoothly covered with only a vague idea of what the man had been saying.

“Yes, yes it is,” Matsuuru mused. “Tell me Park,” The man in question hummed in response.

“How do you feel about another deal?” Matsuuru asked.

“Another deal?”A questioning brow rose on Jimin’s soft features.

“Yes,” The yakuza affirms. “Tell me can you deliver goods with the same quality as Yeong’s shipment?”

“Of course, both the route and the factory now belong to us,” Bangtan’s Thai branches had bought out the dealers previously selling to Yeong. Additionally taking over the warehouse and docks, which resulted in the total take over of the safest route to and from Thailand.

“Then I would like to continue buying from you,”

“Well then, we can set a meeting date to discuss the details,” Jimin’s head bobbed in a nod as he spoke.

“In two months I will be making another round to the states, and I’ll be stopping by in Korea,” Matsuuru says. “How about then?”

“That sounds fine,”

“I’ll send the exact date to your right hand,’’

“Right,”

“And Jimin,” The silver-blonde hums at the call of his name. “Tell (Y/n) that business has been booming,”

“I’ll make sure to do that,” He responds, pressing the circular red button and ending the call. Pocketing his phone, he heaves himself off the wall he was leaning on, making his way back to the. What excellent news; should Matsuuru continue to buy from Bangtan, they could begin expansion into Japan.

Closing in on the kitchen doors, Jimin hears loud voices echoing from within. ‘Sounds like they’re having fun,’ The corners of his lips quirked up as he strode into the kitchen until he heard a series of ‘(Y/n), that’s dangerous!’; ‘(Y/n), be careful with that!’; ‘(Y/n), what are you doing?!’ Followed by a series of loud giggles and slurred words he couldn’t clearly make out.

Hearing those words Jimin rushed into the kitchen, an ice-like feeling flooding his system. But the sight that greeted him could only be described as comical. Well, maybe a little bizarre.

There you were standing on the kitchen island, face flushed, a shit-eating face splitting grin curving your lips, hands flailing above your head, holding a gun; surrounded by six men desperately trying to get the gun from your grasp.‘A gun?!’

“What the fuck is going on here?” He asks, eyes trained on you, specifically the gun in your hand.

“Jiminie!” You exclaim, stretching out the ‘ie’; eyes lighting up as he entered the room. The men shout for you to be careful with the gun, all cries falling to deaf ears. Hobbling on your wobbly legs you climb down from the kitchen island; with both hands above your head, you move to greet the silver-blond. “Hero, waecom back!”

“Jimin, watch out she had a gun,” Namjoon warns the other male.

“I can see that,” Jimin snaps.

“Jiminie, guess what? Guess what? Guess what?” Snickering, you repeatedly call for the silver-blond's attention bouncing on your feet.

“W一what is it (Y/n)?” He returns, trying to reach for the gun, but you pull the weapon close to your chest.

“I became a spy!” Shrieking those words, you break into another fit of giggles.

“What?” Confusion riddles the male’s face as your laughing fit calms.

“So earlier,” You begin, “I sneaky, sneaky and took his gun, hehe,”

Even more, confused he searches the men’s expression for a proper explanation.

“Well, uh, it happened so fast,”

“Guk,”

“One minute she was resting her head on the table, then she suddenly got up and asked me for a hug,” His voice became quieter as he explained. “I gave her one. And she got the gun before I could do anything,” Mumbling the last part, he rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“See! I became a spy,” Sniggering you say. “I sneaky, sneaky,” Waving around the weapon in your hand, you give the men around you a miniature heart attack.

Sighing, Jimin still not fully understanding as to how an experienced professional like Jeongguk lost his gun to a drunk civilian. The gun safeties were intact so the situation wasn’t that far gone, but they had to get that gun away from you before you either kill yourself, him, or his men. But how? If you wouldn’t listen to the other what were the chances of you listening to him? ‘Well it’s not like there is much of a choice,’

“(Y/n), come here,” He spread out his arms, inviting you in for a hug. And to the surprise of those who still retained their senses, you shuffled towards silver-blond, allowing him to envelop you in his warm embrace.

Instantly relaxing in his hold, you nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his comforting scent. Jimin feels your body slack; using this as an opportunity he uses his left hand to keep you in place as he shimmed the gun out of your grasp with his right. Heaving a relieved breath once he was holding the gun.

Glaring at the crowd before him he throws the gun to its owner with you still in his safe embrace. “How the fuck did this happen?” Jimin growls, his arms tighten around you as you felt his voice rumble in his chest. He was angry. Was he angry at you? You didn’t mean to make him angry, you were just curious as to what they looked like when they were worried.

“Jiminie, are you mad at me?” Meekly, you ask the male. All your previous bravado had now poofed out of existence.

His heart melted into a puddle of mush when he met your wide, innocent doe eyes. “I’m not mad at you,” He sighed. He wasn’t angry with you, he was angry with the idiots who couldn’t take care of you. But now, even that had faded as he gently brushed your hip with his thumb.

“You promise?” Looking at him with impossible wide puppy dog eyes.

Blinking, Jimin owlishly stared at you before responding, “I promise,”

How strange, he never thought he’d be promising someone he wasn’t angry, especially as a mafia boss. And seemed like the rest of Bangtan’s core thought the same, as each man failed to suppress their laughter.

“(Y/n) you should probably let go now?” Hoseok called from behind where the youngest stood.

“I’m good thank you,” Tightening your hold around Jimin’s torso, you nuzzled further into Jimin’s chest.

The six men look to their leader, who simply shrugs as he fully wraps his arms around your form. Glancing at each other they let out soft chuckles, aside from Jeongguk, who mopes around having been outrun by a drunk (Y/n).

“Drunk (Y/n) is a sneaky troublemaker,” Yoongi speaks up. “Noted for future reference,” Chuckling, he leans onto the kitchen island.

“Hehe, uh-huh. That’s why sober (Y/n) doesn’t like me,” Your warm breath tickles Jimin’s neck as you speak.

“What?” Namjoon asks, expression muddled with confusion. A commonality shared amongst the men. “What did you just say?” He reiterates.

“Just as I said, sober me doesn’t like drunk me. Well, me一 she doesn't like me very much,”

“Why?” Jimin questions.

“Because I don’t have a filter,” Snickering, you push just away enough to meet his eyes.

“What do you mean?” He asks again.

“I mean whatever's in here goes straight out,” Pointing to your index finger to your head and making a swooping motion from your skull out your mouth “And I always get her in trouble,”

“Oh?” A questioning brow lifts in Jimin’s face as he asks for you to continue, “Give me an example. What are you thinking about now?”

“An example?” Tilting your head at the solver-blond you say, and he nods. “Well, for one, I think Taehyung should come to me if he’s really having so much trouble with it,” You hobble towards the brunette as you spoke. “I could give you nicotine patches or tips and tricks for when you get an urge,” Your hands on your hips, almost as if you were chiding a child for misbehaving.

‘How?’ The male in question stiffened at your words as his eyes blew wide open. ‘She couldn’t have known,’ It wasn’t as though he was actively trying to hide the fact that he was trying to lessen his smoking habits, neither was it a secret. Yet, not even his brothers had noticed, so how had you?

“What?” Jeongguk turns to his elder. “What is she talking about?”

“How do you people not see it? Are you blind or something?” Your eyes flutter in incredulousness. “His hand has been twitching towards the pocket with his cigarette pack or his expensive cigars or whatever. It’s so painfully obvious, it kind of hurts,” You explain, your voice sharper than you intended to be.

‘What the shit?’ Taehyung stared at you. Not even he had realized he had been doing that. But, twitching meant nothing, it could have simply been something he unconsciously did, then how had you connected that to his goal? He didn’t ever recall mentioning it to you in passing and he definitely did not bring it up in conversation or even hint at it. He had done nothing, yet you still somehow caught it.

The men are stunned into silence, not used to being spoken to by your harsh tone. A silent pause falls upon the group, and you finally realize what you had done.“See, no filter,” Shrugging, you move clumsily to rest your weight onto the kitchen island.

“Anything else?” Jimin exhorted, urging you to continue.

“Namjoon, Yoongi, you two should really get some rest,” Turning your attention to the two older males, accusingly pointing your index finger to their general direction. “Micromanaging all our own information or restlessly trying to search for Yeong’s next move isn’t going to help. They won’t be doing anything, not right now anyway. And if you’re so hell-bent on doing something, keep an eye out for foreign mercenaries and underground hospitals or doctors,”

“Mercenaries and doctors? Why?” Intrigue laced Jimin’s voice, and though he did not understand foreign mercenaries and underground hospitals had nothing to do with the situation. His eyes narrowed at the realization that you had already had a plan of action or somewhat of a plan and yet you were keeping this to yourself.

“Why do you think?” Scoffing, you lay your head on the counter. “That night Yeong lost like what? Twenty? Thirty of his best men, and he can’t just replace them overnight. Not if he wants trustworthy men anyway,”

“But why foreign mercenaries?” Namjoon questions, catching on to your intentions.

“If he didn’t already know about Bangtan’s network, he knows about it now. Which also means if he hires men from within the country we will absolutely know about it, not to mention we probably already have counter strategies for any of those groups and that is a problem,” You said. “And what’s the solution to that problem? Hire foreign hands, places our network doesn’t extend to, people we don’t know anything about,”

“Hospital, why a hospital?” Yoongi quips, whatever haze the alcohol may have brought gone as your words seemed to have sobered the men.

“Do you people like… not think?” Facing the white-blond, your face scrunches in disdain.

“(Y/n),” His voice warns.

Sighing, you spell out the situation, “The speaker, how far can you hear it?”

“Twenty一Thirty feet?” Namjoon answers.

“Good, now how close do you need to be to the mic for it to be able to pick up sounds?”

“Fifteen to twenty feet at least,” He answers again.

“And we all agree that we heard Yeong’s voice loud and clear? We all agree that he was at most twenty feet from the mic and the bomb?” Noises of agreement echo throughout the room, “Good, now how far is the blast radius of the bomb?”

The blast radius was at least twenty-five feet, and even if Meong wasn’t within the radius the pressure of the explosion alone would be enough to do some damage. In other words, Yeong Cheol Meong was injured. How had they not seen something that was right before their eyes?

“The traitor? Do you know how we can find the traitor?” Taehyung speaks up, if you already had an idea of Yeong’s next move, then it would be highly likely that you also had a way of dealing with the most perplexing matter at hand.

“Oh, them?” You say thoughtfully, “It would entirely depend on your preparedness… preparedness is that a word?” You question yourself, unsure whether it was a legitimate word or if you had just created a new word in your drunken haze.

“Well anyway,” Shrugging off your thoughts you continue, “I don’t think anyone expected you to keep them alive for long. Maybe a few days, a week at most.”

“Which meant they had to work fast. And going by what Jiyoung said, we can infer that the traitor hadn’t made contact with him,” You pause, before looking up to the chestnut-haired male. “But why? Why hadn’t they made contact with him? Was it because something came up? Did something happen? Were they sent away? Was it because we acted too quickly? Or maybe differently than predicted? Or could they just not get to them?” A string of questions leaves your mouth, guiding the men to the conclusion you had come to.

“Placement,” Namjoon jumps in realization.

“If we can figure out who was in the house or was supposed to be in the house in the span of his capture and even after that. If we can figure out who was supposed to be where before (Y/n)’s plan happened then…” Yoongi mutters, following your train of thought.

“Bingo,” Sitting up, you fire a finger gun at the white-blond with a wink of your eye. “I mean it may not completely work out, but it definitely narrows down the suspect list,”

“Now, the question is do you have such a record?” Glancing at Namjoon, you lay your head back on top of the countertop.

“I think so,” Forehead scrunching Namjoon rubs his index finger with his thumb. “We’ll have to look for it, but we should have something,” He says.

There is a moment of silence as you stare at the man in front of you. The men lost in their own thoughts, but the quiet is short as the chestnut-haired mafioso breaks the stillness.

“How did you catch all that?” Breathless, Taehyung asks you, a perplexed astonishment on his face.

“How did I catch all that?” You parroted the brunette. “There was nothing to catch, it was all there, it has all been there,” Scoffing, you straighten your body.

“You people have eyes yet you do not observe,” Your razor-sharp gaze met Taehyung’s. And he couldn’t help the cold chill that spread across his body. Almost as though your stinging gaze pierced right through him. Whatever softness you may have held had completely evaporated, like it never existed.

“If you knew all this then why didn’t you tell us any of this earlier?” Taehyung snaps, unsure of how else to react.

And with the look he received, it may have seemed like he had just asked the stupidest question in the world. Before your face splits into a cheshire grin as you answered his stupid question, “What kind of player would I be if I showed you all my cards?”

Player? Showed all your cards? What was this? A game?

The room fell silent, all that could be heard was your quiet drunk mumbling and their own rapid heartbeats. However, as it stood, their hearts did not beat in fear, not in the slightest. No, the thudding of their hearts accelerated in excitement, they looked forward to the things to come with you by their side. What did the future look like now that you had been added to the mix? Would you give way for their success? Or their downfall? And the thought dawned on them all at once, you belonged in this world. A world of treachery, cunning, and politics.

“And um, well, I mean who am I to tell you how to do your job?” Your soft words break the men from their thoughts as you mumbled on, adding to your previous statement. “You know about this stuff more than I do, so I don’t really have the right to tell you what to do. Besides, you never asked me. If you had asked me, well, sober me, I’m sure she would have answered any questions you had,”

Tentatively wetting his lips Jimin speaks up, “Is there anything else you have been thinking?”

Your gaze fell to your hands, that rested on the marble counter as you twiddled your thumbs. Wordlessly staring at them for a solid minute before raising your eyes to Jimin. “There’s one more thing, but…” Trailing off, you don’t finish your sentence.

“What is it?” The youngest whispers, “You can tell us,” He coaxes you to speak.

“If I tell you, you have to promise you must not tell sober me I said this,” Lunging to where Jeongguk stood you shook his shoulder, putting extreme emphasis on must. “You can never ever, ever tell her I said this,”

“Uh,” He shared a glance of agreement with his hyungs, “Alright, we promise, if you tell us, we won’t tell sober you,”

“DO YOU PROMISE?!” Exclaiming at the top of your lungs, you stare the younger down.

“I promise, I promise,” He assures you quickly.

What could it have been? What could have possibly been so important that you wouldn’t share with them unless you were drunk and off your senses?

“You see the thing is,” You start.

“Yes?” Jeongguk says as he and his elders lean in to hear you.

“You guys are hot,” ‘What?’ A collective thought that came to the seven men at once. “And, like it’s not even fair, none of you are fair. I mean how can each and every single one of you be so beautiful,” A deep fuschia climbed its way onto their cheeks at your compliment.

“Do you see this shit?” You ask, gesturing to the men standing before you. “How the hell are these humans fair? No one has the right to be so attractive,” Childishly stomping your feet on the ground, your cheeks puff into a pout.

“Wha一”

“And you especially don’t get to talk symmetry,” Glaring at Taehyung, you growl. ‘Symmetry?’ Said male thought in confusion.

“(Y/n)一”

“Or you, you angle” Bravely cutting off the young mafia boss, you scowl at him. “None of you get to talk. It’s like the seven of you just stole every bit of beauty in this world all for yourselves and it’s like I’m not even mad,”

“How can seven people be so pretty,” Sniffles escapes your lips as tears of frustration sting on your eyeballs. It wasn’t fair to be so attractive, what about the rest of humanity? They needed beauty too, these men couldn’t hog all the attractiveness.

Unsure of how they were to react to your words they look to each other in question.

“Uh, hey, it’s okay, (Y/n). Don’t cry,” The eldest steps forward to comfort you, opening his arms, inviting you into a hug. Which you happily jump into.

“Thank you, Mr. Shoulders,” Sniffling into his broad shoulders.

“Uh, there, there,” He awkwardly patted your back as your sniffles dissolved and you once again lost yourself in your drunken thoughts. Until your now hazy gaze lands on the fruit-filled basket sitting in the center of the island countertop.

Your jaws slack at your incredible idea. ‘I’m a genius,’ Gently pushing away from Jin’s grasp you reach for the basket of peaches.

“(Y/n)? What are you doing?” The eldest asks as he watches you stretch across the counter, reaching for the fruit basket.

“Hehehe, peaches,” A giddy giggle escapes your lips when you have the container in your hold. Immediately waddling to where Jimin stood before holding out a peach to him, “Jiminie, I a-peach-iate you,” You say with the brightest grin he had ever seen you wear.

His breath caught onto his throat, watching you with wide eyes as you laughed and snorted at your own joke. Your eyes scrunching in happiness, he could practically see the sparks of joy sparkling in (e/c) orbs. A dark flush of red coating your cheeks, lips a bright pinkish-red from you nibbling onto them, an idiotic grin spreading on your face as you giggled at your pun. But at that moment he couldn’t think of a prettier sight than the one before him. His hands twitched while this heart thundered away in his chest. He dazedly took in your elated form.

Seeing as Jimin wouldn’t accept the peach on his own, you placed the single peach on Jimin’s hand, giving him one last rosy smile before moving onto the next man of the seven.

“Jin, I a-peach-iate you too” You beam at the man, giving him a peach. Then moving down the line, presenting each man with your terribly adorable pun and the fruit that was the center of your pun. Each man gratefully accepted the fruit and your pun, which only seemed to double your happiness.

“I really do appreciate you guys,” Stumbling over your own feet, your body automatically returns you to your unconsciously designated safe zone. “Much more than you know,” Sleepily muttering the last part you crash into Jimin’s firm chest, wrapping your arms around him before falling into Jimin’s embrace, the alcohol and exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you.

Jimin effortlessly catches you, leaving the peach you had given him on the marble countertop, he gently brings your body to the floor, then hooking his arms underneath your knees and around your back, he efficiently picks you up in a bridal carry.

“Did she just make a pun about peaches, give us peaches then pass out?” Jeongguk questioned, brain still processing the events passed.

“I like her, she gets the pun culture,” Jin comments, a soft grin curling on his lips. Perhaps he liked you more than he initially thought.

“Oh, please,” Yoongi scoffs.

“I’m closest to her room, I’ll take her back,” Jimin declares as he steps towards the kitchen doors. “Shelty come,” He orders the already half asleep wolf-dog. Who slowly and sleepily makes her way to the male.

“Namjoon,” A call of his name from his boss is enough for him to understand Jimin’s silent command. Your words were to be put into action, Namjoon and Yoongi would shift from managing Bangtan’s information to instead gathering the intel you had spoken of. And though you hadn’t explicitly said it, following the direction of all that you had said, conflict was on the horizon. Meong wasn’t done, he was coming. And they needed to prepare for when he did.

Gently, Jimin lowers your body into the plush mattress of your bed. Although you made it no easier for him to be gentle as you shifted and squirmed in his hold, especially considering the fact that he had to carefully remove a pile of pillows while holding you and making sure you didn’t get hurt or wake up. Incoherent mumbles falling from your lips as he tightly tucks you into the bed. Your seventy-pound puppy finding her spot at your feet.

Stepping back Jimin admires his handy work, nodding to himself, he turns to leave for his own room. But his movements are stopped when he feels a soft tug on the back of his shirt.

“Don’t go,” You whisper, you hold on his shirt tightening as you tug him closer to the bed. The alcohol in your system had made you braver than you would have ever thought possible.

“(Y/n), I can’t stay,” He whispers back, trying to loosen your grip on his shirt.

“Stay,” Your voice is quiet but demanding as you yank him to you

“(Y/n),” He called your name as a warning, which you blatantly ignored as you proceeded to beg him to stay.

“Jiminie, please,” Stretching out the ‘e’ of the please, you plead for the male to stay. “Pretty please,” Your cheeks puffing into a pout.

“(Y/n) I can’t一” The silver-blond felt his eye twitch when his gaze landed on your face.

Wide-eyed, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted ever so slightly, tugging downwards, looking like a kicked puppy. How was he supposed to say no to that?

With a deep sigh, he relents, gesturing you to scoot.

“Hehe, yay,” A lazy victorious smile curved onto your mouth as you shifted away from the man, giving him room beside you.

“Shush, go to sleep,” Laying down, he quiets you. Only for another fit of giggles to leave your reddened lips as you cozy yourself into Jimin’s side. Your form curls around him, your head on his arm you squish yourself into the silver-blond’s chest; head tucked underneath his chin. As the haze of sleep and exhaustion returns you unknowingly place a chaste kiss on the juncture of his neck.

“Goodnight Jiminie,” You whisper, sleep finally claiming your consciousness.

‘Oh thank god,’ The mafioso thought to himself, glad you wouldn’t be able to hear the loud drumming of his rapidly beating heart. He releases a shaky breath recalling the feathery light feeling of your lips on his skin.

For many minutes he sat as still as a statue, replaying the events in his head, from the way you called him ‘Jiminie’, which was barely settling in, to your sweet words for him every one, then to the kiss. His mind raced, buzzing with thought before relaxing into your hold, his fatigue setting in, he pushed away those thoughts, deciding to save the mulling over for another time, he shifted away from you, untucking your head from underneath his chin and taking in your form. Even through the dim lighting, he could see the peaceful expression that rested on your face, mouth partly open as you take slow even breaths. Your soft locks messily framing your face most perfectly.

Tentatively, he brushed the strands of hair that fell onto your face, running his thumb across your plump cheeks. ‘Beautiful,’ Was the only word he could think of, an unknown knot twisting and tightening in his chest in the best way possible. A tender smile danced on his lips as he once again pulled you closer, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, a strange warmth filling him as his own consciousness faded. Not realizing the weight of his own words.

“Oow,” Groaning, your face contorts in pain, your head hammering in your skull. A headache you wouldn’t wish even to your enemies attacking you. A whine escapes your lips, your mouth feeling like the Sahara desert, however far too lazy to actually get up for a drink, you nuzzle further into the warmth before you.

Snuggling into the comfortingly familiar warmth. An extremely recognizable scent fills your senses. ‘Hmm, smells just like Jimin,’ A masculine yet feminine smell, smoldering yet delicate, a scent unique to Jimin and Jimin alone. Your eyes fly open at the thought, but regret opening your eyes so suddenly as your sleep sodden eyes burn the moment you open them. A drawn-out groan leaves your throat as you rub your eyes open.

And there he was in all his sleepy glory, a lethargic smile on his lips as he watched you scowl at the world. “Good morning,” he groggily whispered as to not agitate your headache he could see you had. “How’re you feeling?”

After blankly staring at the godly beautiful male, having given up on logic and reason you simply sigh returning to snuggling into his neck. Making yourself comfortable in his heat, the rhythmic thudding of his heart somewhat soothing your pounding head. Though it did nothing for the dryness in your mouth.

A content sigh escaped your lips, a sense of completion flooded your systems as you were consoled by the domestic warmth of Jimin’s presence. A warmness that always blossomed in your chest every time you were close to Jimin. It was a homey sort feeling, in the most natural way, like you’d always belonged there. And a warm, gushy sensation blooms in your chest, a sensation that turns your insides to mush but also sends tingles down to the tips of your fingers. A sensation that made your palms clammy and made your heart beats just a tad faster.

All is silent, and you try to fall back into the comfort of sleep and you almost did, before Jimin’s voice snaps you from your haze.

“My arm’s numb,” He says flatly.

“I don’t care,” Clutching tightly onto his shirt, you mumble, determined to get your way.

“Get off,” He whines, half-heartedly nudging you away, only for you to cling onto him. Moments pass and you relax your clutches ever so slightly, only to feel the rumbling in Jimin’s chest as he chuckles.

“What’re you laughing at?” Untucking your head from under his chin, you scoff with a laugh.

Immediately his nose scrunches, eyes crinkling in disdain, “You’ve got bad breath,”

“Oh my god, do I really?”

“Yeah,” He nods.

“I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay,”

A beat of silence passes before you both burst into a loud fit of laughter. Though you almost immediately regret that as the pounding in your head worsens. Groaning in discomfort, burrow back into Jimin’s embrace.

“Alright, get up,” He directs, supporting you to a sitting position as you grumbled and whined on your way up. You had never before wished more to become a rock and spend the rest of your life resting and existing. “Here, drink this,” He hands you a glass of water. But you don’t recall having water in your room. Whatever the case, you gratefully accepted the glass, downing the liquid in three gulps. Jimin holds his hand out, offering to take the glass. Returning the glass you mumble a thank you, leaning against the headboard.

Jimin carefully places the glass onto the side table, before pulling out his phone. His eyes ran over whatever he was reading, and you were left to wander your thoughts.

What a bizarre exchange. Nothing of this sort had ever happened to you, and you never expected to experience such things with anyone, let alone a mafia don.

Getting drunk, passing out, waking up next to someone that wasn’t Shelty, then laughing with that person while they take care of you. These days nothing you ever expected happened, which was a new experience. Usually, you were pretty spot on with your predictions, though your life wasn’t exactly the most exciting for unpredictable things to just pop up. But still.

‘Oh my god I was drunk,’ Your eyes widened, head twisting to look at Jimin. Per usual you didn’t have any recollection of the night prior. It wasn’t as though there was nothing, but everything was a blur, nothing you could make sense out of. What had you done while you were drunk? Had you done anything weird? You were known to be brutally honest while under the influence. You hoped and prayed you hadn’t offended anyone last night.

“Uh, hey, Jimin,” He hums at the quiet call of his name. “Did I do anything… weird last night?”

And a wide grin breaks onto his perfect face. ‘Oh god,’ So you had done something embarrassing. “What did I do?” You squeak, pulling your fuzzy blanket halfway up your face.

“Oh nothing much,” He muses, “Just helped us start our search for the traitor, figured out Yeong’s next possible move, gave Taehyung some advice. Nothing too big,” He lists off the topics you had covered, and as per word, leaving out the compliments you had showered them with.

“So she strikes again,” Grumbling in embarrassment you bring your hands to cover your face.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” His voice is gentle as he questions you.

“What was I supposed to do?” You drop your hands to your lap. “Tell you how to do your job when I know little to nothing about this world, about how things work? If anything I’d probably just get in the way,”

“Nonsense,” He interjects. “If there is ever something on your mind I want you to say it out loud. If there is ever you notice something that we don’t I want you to tell me. Besides, everything you said last night really did helped us.”

His eyes narrow at the silence that follows. “(Y/n),” There’s a warning in his voice, but you don’t feel threatened nor do you feel fear. Strangely, it warmed your heart that he cared about your opinion even though you were a novice when it came to things about this world.

You give a tentative nod, raising your gaze to meet Jimin’s. You see him relax as he returned to lean against the headboard.

As you observe him your eyes fall onto his shoulder. ‘His wound!’

“Jimin your bandages! Did I change them? Did anyone change them?” You ask you're frantically sitting up, flinging off your blanket as you did.

“Calm down,” He waves his hands in downwards motions as he speaks. “No, no one changed my bandages last night. But,” He cuts you off before you had the chance to say anything. “It was just yesterday, and I don’t really think one night will hurt,”

“No, it can definitely hurt, what if it gets infected?” Ignoring the throbbing in your skull, you crawl off the bed. “I need to change your bandages now! I’m gonna go get the first-aid box,”

“Wait!” Jimin grips onto your shoulder, gently tugging you to look at him.

“I had a feeling you might do something like that,” He sighs. “So I had it brought in here,” He gestures to the box sitting on the floor beside the bedside table.

“Oh?” Pausing for a brief moment before continuing on your way towards the first-aid box. “Well I still need to change your bandages,” Your vision blurs ever so slightly as you try to find your balance as you stand, however you shook off the short bout of dizziness, slowly waddling your way to the box, grabbing it and returning to the bed.

Jimin releases another deep sigh as he concedes defeat, removing his t-shirt to give you access to the bandages. “I thought you were hungover?” He laughs scooching to give you space on the edge of the bed.

“I am,” Chuckling you answer him as you unclipped the bandage clip and unwinding his cream-colored bandages.

“Then shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I will,” You say, cleaning the suture using an alcohol pad, then applying antibiotic ointment onto the wound before wrapping the wound in a fresh set of gauze and bandages.

“One of the maids will come by. Order what you want for breakfast, then rest. I need you at full capacity tonight,” He instructs as you clip on the bandage clip. “One of the girls should be coming in for your hair and makeup. After you’re done dressing, come to my room.”

“You’re room? Why?”

“Because I said so,” A soft smile curves onto his plump lips as he slips on his shirt.

Puffing your cheeks into a pout, unsatisfied with the explanation, but nod regardless.

“Good,” He bobs his head in approval. “See ya later,” Standing, he briefly runs his fingers through Shelty’s fur, lovingly petting her before giving her head a soft pat.

“Hey Jimin, can you take Shelty with you?” You ask the male. Seeing as you would be stuck indoors all day, and your puppy needed her daily dose of exercise, it would be better for her to be with Jimin. At the very least she wouldn’t be trapped in one room.

“Hmm? Sure,” He says looking at the wolf-dog in question. “Do you wanna come with me?” Shelty jumps at the offer, more than ready to be out of the room.

“Alright, let’s go,” Opening the door of the room, the pair exit, Jimin shutting the door behind him as they left.

And just as the silver had said, Eui arrived knocking at your door just as you had dresses after your shower. Still recovering from a bitch of a hangover that had somehow worsened after Jimin had left, you ordered for a light breakfast of toast with jam and butter, accompanied with fresh fruits.

After gobbling down your breakfast and placing the trolley outside of your bedroom, you immediately dive into your nest of blankets and pillows for a long nap.

“Miss (Y/n), Miss (Y/n),” A soft voice calls your name, and you jolt awake when you feel your body being shaken.

“Huh? Wha?” Vision blurry from sleep, you jump to sit up.

“Oh, I’m sorry miss!” Shoulders slumping when you recognized this meek voice. “I didn’t mean to startle you!” Eui wildly waves her hands, apologizing profusely.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Rubbing your eyes, you assure as a long yawn leaves your lips.

“So what’s up? Did you need something?” Groggily, you ask the girl, resting your weight on your hands.

“Um, I’m here for your hair and makeup,” She answers as her gaze falls to a silver box she was holding.

You blink once, then twice, processing the information just handed to you. Your gaze shifts to the windows in your room. Deep orange hues of dusk flooded from the clear glass windows. Which meant you would be leaving for the gala shortly. Which also meant you had slept for the majority of the day. Had you truly been asleep for the entirety of the daylight? Though now the hangover from the morning was right about nonexistent.

“Miss (Y/n)?” Eui’s soft voice breaks you from your thoughts.

“Right, sorry,” With a smile, you apologize to the girl, “So what’s first?”

“I’ll be starting with your makeup,” She responds quietly.

“Okay, should we move to the bathroom? Or a chair? Or?”

“Um, can we move to the desk?” Her gaze glued to the floor, she asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Removing the blankets from your legs, you walk to the office area of your room.

There is no exchange after those short words as he wordlessly works on your face. Massaging, what you assumed was moisturizer into your skin. You sat in silence as she applied some light makeup, nothing much, just enough to show off your natural features.

“Um, so, I was wondering, do you know who arranged my books?” You question while she was brushing the mascara spoolie through your lashes. However, you sense her body stiffen after your words leave your mouth.

“It一 it was me miss,” You hear the hesitation and fear lacing her voice as she answers your question. “Did一did I organize them incorrectly?” He

“Oh no, no,” Quick to reassure her, you shake your head. “I actually wanted to thank the person that did,” Facing her you explain.

“You organized them perfectly, thank you Eui,” A gentle smile curls onto your lips, but you couldn’t help wondering why she was so afraid of you? Or afraid in general? However, as it stood now, it was none of your business.

“Thank you, miss,” A small smile graces her pink lips as she bows, a slight flush on her cheeks.

“I guess it’s dress time now,” Heaving yourself off the office chair, you make your way to your walk-in closet. But pause when you see Eui following you. “Uh, so is there a reason why you’re following me?”

“Aren’t I going to help you dress?” Her head tilts in question, a confused expression forming on her face.

“No, no, I’m good, I can do it myself,” Waving your hands, you assure her. “Why don’t you wait here while I go put it on and then help me with hair?” Moving close towards the closet you suggest to the brunette. And though her face forms a light frown, she nods.

Hurrying into the closet, you quickly slip on the dress you had chosen. A deep wine red off-shoulder neckline came together in a v-shape at the chest. With a high split in the ball gown skirt that gracefully flowed behind you, making a sort of train. The smooth satin material that gently kissed your skin as the dress elegantly hung on your form, as soft and as pleasant as ever.

Reaching for your ‘Louis Vuitton’ shoebox that sat with your other shoes, you carefully undid the packaging before sliding your feet into the heels, then fastening the buckles on the adjustable straps around the ankle.

After a short glance admiring your outfit, you exit the closet, taking slow steps towards Eui, not that you had much of a choice.

“So what do you think?” You ask the girl, who had been standing by the desk.

“You look, wonderful miss!” She exclaims, her hands coming to her chest.

You thank her for the compliment as you slunk towards her.

Eui gestured to you to sit on the plush office chair while she fussed over your hair. You smiled as you saw the girl relax around you. Surprisingly she didn’t do much with your hair, she shifted your hair to better frame your face. And she was done.

Taking a few steps back she admires her handy work, nodding to herself. “All done,” She smiles.

“Thank you,” Standing you express your gratitude.

“Oh no, it was nothing at all,” Furiously shaking her head, then bowing as he excused herself, scurrying out the door.

Chuckling you glided across your room and out the door. As promised, you make your way to Jimin’s room. Though you weren’t exactly sure whether he was in his room or not, you were still asked to meet him there.

‘I wonder what he wanted?’ Musing to yourself, you knock on the tall double doors.

“Come in,” His voice comes through the door.

Pushing open one of the doors, you enter Jimin’s room. And the sight that greeted you truly warmed your heart. There he was, a suit-clad mafia don, on the floor cuddling a cloud of floof.

Was he really rolling around the floor wearing the suit

“Well, aren’t you two getting along?” Mockingly, you laugh, making your way towards the pair.

“Yes, we’re getting along perfectly,” He scoffs, before his eyes land on your form. His eyes trailed your body, his gaze drinks in your form. The red satin elegantly hangs from your body, as your hair naturally farms your face, further enhancing your raw beauty. Eui had done her job well. You looked just as gorgeous as the day you picked your dress, only you were still missing something. Your neck was far too bare for a party they were about to attend.

So he would fix that.

“So, what’s up? What did you want to talk about?” You ask, playing with your fingers.

“Right, follow me,” Standing from his position he leads you to his massive closet. You follow wordlessly.

Jimin pulls open one of the long drawers. And you see it filled with expensive watches and a navy blue velvet box. Most likely a jewelry box.

Your eye twitches as you realize that drawer probably costs more than everything you’ve owned put together, your apartment included.

“I wanted you to wear these,” Jimin’s voice brings you back from your thoughts as you see him open the velvet box.

The mafia boss’ eyes were trained on your expression as you gasp when you see the precious contents of the box.

There rested a white-gold necklace beautifully encrusted with diamonds. The centerpiece of the necklace was elegant curves with a diamond where they came together, another diamond hanging from the middle figure. More diamonds hung from the wing-like shapes that flowed away from the centerpiece, making the body of the necklace. The necklace itself sat beneath a pair of matching earrings. All of them encrusted with the same shimmering jewel. The exquisite piece was more art than jewelry. And was probably worth more than your life. (Picture is at the end [please go look at it, it’s really pretty])

A gentle smile curls on Jimin’s lips as he watches your awed expression before speaking up. “This used to be my mother’s,” He whispers.

“Ji一Jimin, I couldn’t. I can’t wear something so precious” Shaking your head, you step away from the box.

“Oh, I think you can,” Chuckling he lifts the necklace from his container.

“Jimin, no,” Distancing yourself from the male you deny his request. You would indulge him most to everything, you would follow almost any command he would give, but this was something you couldn’t do. This was something you didn’t deserve to do.

Sighing, he speaks, “Ever since my mother passed away, this has been sitting here, doing nothing,” His gaze rises to meet yours, and you felt your heart accelerate from the amount of warmth and affection they held. “I don’t think that’s what she would have wanted,”

“I think,” He inches closer, “She would have wanted someone to wear this. To show off this wonderful piece of art. To love this necklace just as she had,” Taking another step, he had you cornered you against the full body mirror in his closet.

Your eyes were glued to the floor as he tentatively pushed your hair away from the nape of your neck. Breath ragged, heart beating a mile a minute, you felt paralyzed as Jimin turned you to face the mirror. You couldn’t move, you wanted to stop him, to tell him you didn’t deserve to wear such a treasure. But you couldn’t, your body wouldn’t move as though under some spell

Your gaze remained plastered to your feet as Jimin unscrewed the necklace, placing it around your delicate neck, before screwing it on. The necklace was heavy, you felt the weight of the value, the importance of the necklace that hung from your neck as it rested on your chest.

“There, now it’s complete,” Appreciating the treasure that sat on your chest, Jimin says, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“You look magnificent,” He murmurs in your ear.

Minutes passed and you had finally gained some sort of control over your body. Slowly, you turn to face the silver-blond, ready to express your disagreement, but your words die in your throat when your eyes meet his. His heart was beating just as fast as yours

Your mouth hung open but no words would come out. He was so close. Close enough for you to feel his shaky breath and his thundering heart.

You felt lost as you stared into his rich honey-brown orbs, each holding so much emotion, an emotion you recognized. Emotions similar to yours, but what exactly were your emotions. And as if on autopilot, your hands moved to rest on his suit-clad chest, clutching at the fine fabric.

Letting out a shaky breath your vision falls to his plump, cherry-pink lips. Taking in the wonderfully sculpted and so kissable. Your head twitched forward as you wondered if they were as soft as they looked.

An almost identical thought ran through Jimin’s head as he watched you nibble on your lower lip. And his body moved before he could think.

His lips crashing into your, perfectly melding together as they move in sync. Your eyes slip shut as Jimin’s arms curl around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. Your arms wrapping around his neck, fingers tangling into his silvery locks.

Groaning into the kiss, Jimin swipes his tongue across your lower lip, asking for entrance. A request eagerly entertain. A soft whimper resounding in your throat as his muscle dominated your mouth. Stumbling backwards, he pushes you against the mirror as a quiet moan leaves your lips, thoroughly enjoying the feel of his tongue roam every crevice of your mouth.

An electrifying feeling jolt throughout your body and everything made sense. The comfort you felt just being in his presence, the fluttering feeling that always flourished within you were with him. This strange sense of trust you had in him even though you had met him less than two weeks ago. Why his words held so much value to you, the jitters you got when he spoke sweet words to you. The emotion was so natural, so familiar, you never noticed your own budding feelings.

Minutes felt like hours as the kiss continued, but you didn’t want it to stop. Not now, not ever, slowly but surely becoming addicted to the sensation of Park Jimin’s kiss. And though unwillingly, you gently part from his lips when the need for oxygen burned your lungs.

His plump, cherry lips remained flush against yours, panting as your lungs take in as much air as it could.

Moments pass and you finally gather the courage to look up to him, and that would be one decision you would never regret.

He wore the softest expression you had ever seen, filled with warmth, care, and love. But almost defeated? Relented? Like he had happily given up. Head involuntarily tilting when you didn’t understand his expression.

“The things you do to me,” He whispers, placing a chaste kiss on your lips, which you gladly return.

Your frown deepens at his words. The thing you do to him? What about the thing he does to you? And you intended to make sure he knew and took responsibility for feelings.

“And what about you?” Puffing your cheeks into a pout, you say. “What about the things you did to me?” An amused smile tugged at the corners of Jimin’s mouth.

“Trapping me into your too comfortable to be real cuddles and attacking me with your attractiveness that you unfairly stole from the world,” A half-hearted scowl makes its way onto your face.

“You think I’m unfairly attractive?” An overly amused eyebrow lifts as he questions you.

“That's not what I一yes, but一 uuwgh” You groan, leaning your head on his chest, you wrap your arms around his wait when you realized he had a complete advantage.

Chuckling, he runs his fingers through your hair. Letting out a laugh of your own when you knew he completely and utterly had you.

“You are so unfair,” You chuckle, softly hitting his shoulder. He, in turn, pulls you against his body.

“You’re crazy,” You giggle.

“For you,” He smoothly returns, he gambles his luck, testing your reaction. This would be his way of asking you to be his. As he finally figured out what had been going on in his head. His heart twisted in realization as he could finally name the inexplicable happiness he felt every time you smiled, the heated rage when you got hurt, the ice-cold fear he felt when you were in danger. And the incredible amount of adoration and warmth he felt just having you close by. The love he felt when you looked at him and beamed a smile that put the brightest stars to shame.

Your eyes widen, understanding the true meaning behind his words. And try as you might you couldn’t stop the face-splitting grin that made itself a home on your face. You’d already known your answer.

“Eww, you’re so cheesy,” Leaning into him, you murmur against his lips, pecking his lips before squirming away from him.

And you got exactly three steps in before you were pulled back by a strong yank.

“Be mine,” His eyes meet yours, all playfulness gone as he speaks seriously, though his words were more of a declaration than a request.

Mirth swimming in your eyes, you shimmy out his hold, giving him an innocent grin, you say. “I’ll think about it,” With that make you a break for the door. Though you don’t make it very far before you’re back in his grasp.

“Minx,” He growls, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. A gesture you gladly returned.

“We have to get going,” Giggling, you move away from the lip lock. A loud sigh leaves his lips and a pout puffs onto his cheeks as Jimin allows you to break the kiss.

“And you called me unfair,” He huffs out, his arms still locked around your waist.

“We have to go,” You repeat yourself.

“I know,” Mumbling, his eyes rake over your features.

“What are you looking at?” Poking his chest, you grumble.

“Am I not allowed to look at you?” He whispers, kissing the area behest your ear.

“Oh, whatever,” Burying your face into his neck, you pray you didn’t smudge your makeup.

Chuckling, he speaks quietly. “The earrings, you forgot the earrings,”

His words sober you from the giddy feeling you were drowning in just moments ago. Jimin notices your change in demeanor right away, and he knew the thoughts that were running through your head.

“Will you wear it for me, angel?” He pleads, leading you into his ginormous closet. Your eyes widen at the affectionate nickname, wordlessly following him.

“Jimin…” A soft murmur of his name leaves your mouth as you are once again standing before the full body mirror.

“You have some gall, making a mafia boss beg,” He chuckles, holding the marvelous pair of earrings.

“Fine, I’ll wear it, but just this once,” Your gaze meets his through the mirror, and you see amusement flood into those honey-brown orbs.

“Hm, sure,” Eyes narrowing at his reaction, you take the earrings from him, sliding them on, fastening them to your ear with the earring backs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Letting out a playful growl, you exit the closet, crossing the room to the door.

“You look beautiful,” He compliments, opening the door for you.

“Don’t change the subject,”

“Shelty come, let’s go,” Ignoring you, he calls for the jet-black wolf-dogs. Who enthusiastically trots towards you, brushing her head against the palm you held out, inviting her for pets.

“Shelty’s going with us?” Coasting down the hall, you eye the silver-blond.

“Of course,” Pocketing his fists in his suit pocket

“Is she allowed at the party?” A questioning brow rose on your face as you descended the spiraling staircase.

“Yeah, dogs are allowed,” Shrugging, he walks beside you as you step outside the house.

Huffing out a chuckle, you cruise to the limousine waiting for you down the front steps.

“Took you guys long enough,” An upset Jeongguk expresses the shared sentiment of Bangtan’s core six of them anyway, leaning his weight on the luxurious vehicle. “What were you even doing?” He gruffs out.

“Completing her outfit,” Jimin swiftly answers, coming to stand beside his younger brother.

“Is that?” Jin moves closer, his eyes landing on the precious treasures hanging from your neck and ears.

“It is,” Grinning, Jimin arm snakes around your waist, nudging you into the vehicle.

Questioningly, you look at the mafia don. Were you going in first? You assumed he always entered group vehicles first. So why wasn’t he entering first?

With a tilt of his head, he gestures you into the limousine, ignoring the query in your orbs. ‘Well okay then,’ Carefully lifting your dress, you crawl into the limo, dismissing Jimin’s behavior as a transparent change of heart.

To you the action may have not meant much, however to the men standing outside the vehicle, this was a silent proclamation. You were officially off-limits.

“Oh?” A knowing grin spreads onto Taehyung’s lips as he watches his boss enter the car.

“What?” Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, you ask the seven men who each were miserably failing at suppressing their smiles.

But once again, Jimin is quick to change topics, “If all possible we’ll try to avoid talking about your position in Bangtan. But if we absolutely cannot avoid the subject then you’ll be recognized as a core member,” You blink once, then twice as the engines of the limousine hum to life as you feel the vibration of the vehicle moving. You thought you were attending as someone’s plus one or something of the sort, not as a core member. Just being called part of the core was a responsibility on its own, were they really trusting you with that?

“So remember to hold yourself in that regard, regardless if you have to identify yourself or not” Namjoon cleared his throat.

“Don’t let anyone disrespect you,” Yoongi adds. “It’ll reflect on us too,”

Bobbing your head in understanding, you soak in all the information, before adding a few points of your own.

“Uh, guys,” You call for their attention. “If anyone brings up the Yeong incident, just know I didn’t come up with the plan,”

Confusion pools in their eyes before realization strikes and they understand your cryptic words. Should anyone mention the incident they were to divert attention from you, obviously, you will attract some attention, however, the intention was to keep you hidden, to keep you harmless, at least your image anyway.

Everyone falls to their own thoughts as a calm silence takes over. But the quiet remained longer than you would have liked. So you did the only right thing to do in such a situation.

“Did you know your eyeballs are three and a half percent salt?” You throw the first medical fact that comes to mind.

“What?” Yoongi ganders at you like you were the stupidest life form in existence.

“Just a fun fact,” Jimin chuckles as your shoulders lifted into a shrug.

“Hey, (Y/n),” The youngest calls for your attention. “Can you dance?”

‘Well shit,’ Over the week, you were entirely focused on improving your combat skills, you had completely overlooked the fact that you couldn’t dance. Sure you could flail to a rhythm but you didn’t know proper ballroom dancing. “No,” Lowering your head, you answer.

And the limousine jerked to a stop just as you did. “Uh, that's okay, you can skip the dancing. The event is more of a banquet-style anyway,” The chocolate brunette assures you, as the dark door smoothly opened.

“Right,” Mumbling, you delicately scooch out of the vehicle and beside Jimin, who had his hand out for you.

And the sight before you was grand, to say the least. Bright yellow ground lights illuminate the two large pillars that stood on either side of the main entrance. You could see the lobby through the glass doors, marble floor, lush green plants decorated corners of the room, and a mahogany desk sat to the side of the space, giving the room an open feel.

Speckles of gold from the indoor lights sprinkled the length of the tall building. You had to strain your neck to see the whole building, you almost assumed it went on forever.

Ladies in extravagant gowns and dresses poured in alongside men dressed in perfectly tailored suits. One would think you were attending a royal ball by the way these people dressed, not a mafia party.

Cars you had only seen in movies and magazines passed by you as the crowd grew. And you feel a subtle tug on your hand, which you guessed was Jimin.

“Wait, Jeongguk!” You gasp, body jolting when you remember the gift you meant to give a certain lady if you could call her that. “Did you bring everything I told you?” You ask the male.

“Oh, yeah!” He exclaims, remembrance flooding his hazel orbs. “Hold on let me get it,” He rushes to the end of the elongated body of the limousine. And your expression falls into a blank look.

“Did you really put flowers in the trunk?” Your deadpan stare pierces through him as his shoulder rises high in a shrug.

“Well, I got them didn’t I?” He hands you the bouquet, stuffing his hands into his suit pockets.

Sighing, you shake your head. Although he was right, he had gotten all the flowers you had asked for.. And a mischievous grin splits on your face as you fuss with the flower petals adjusting and arranging them.

“What are those for?” Jimin comes up behind you, one of his arms wrapping around your waist. Your grin melts into a soft smile at the warmth of his touch.

“Don’t worry about it,” You assure him as he leads you up the front steps. Though still curious, he drops the topic, humming at your words.

You walk down the first corridor by the main entrance, your eyes fell to the floor as a sudden bout of nervousness hit you. Only it wasn’t only nervousness that had made itself known, you could feel the excitement pulse through your veins as you walked down the carpeted hallway.

“Alright here we go,” Jeongguk blasts his bunny smile as you turn one last corner and you see the humongous double door, you were sure you could fit an elephant through.

Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the room. Three enormous rectangular low ceiling chandeliers hung from the high ceiling. It looked as though it was raining gold; a clean white light poured from the large chandeliers. Neatly lighting the room in a soft enchanting glow.

Round tables dotted the great hall, as people mingled, greeting each other.

A soft smile plastered to your face you eyed the people you passed, taking note of their movements and expressions. Though you had to admit you were enjoying the shocked, almost scared glances you received from the many attendees when their eyes landed on your wolf-dog. You felt a surge of power run through you as you glide through the crowd with Shelty walking a naturally regal strut by your hip. And you knew the core of Bangtan was also enjoying that feeling.

As you walked, you carefully studied your surroundings, and before you even had a chance to really go through the information, you had already seen distinct characteristics in both men and women.

There were three kinds of women, ones that clung to men, ones that huddled together, and ones that sat alone, poise and prestige rolling off of them as they coyly sat and observed the fray. The quiet ones were the most dangerous, you will never truly know how much they understand.

Silently you sit in the chair Jimin had directed you to, still holding onto the bouquet. The men break into their own conversations and a few men approach Jimin, inviting him into conversations, which he somewhat reluctantly obliged. And you vaguely hear the men ask the silver-blond about your identity.

Minutes passed of you quietly watching the crowd, and Hae Seulgi was still nowhere to be found. From what you heard from the chocolate haired mafioso, she seemed like a fly drawn to honey, and yet she was still missing.

‘Oh? Ask and you shall receive, is what they say?’ You suppress your grin into a docile smile, calming your rapidly thumping heart. Jeongguk had shown you a picture of the girl, and you had to say, she was quite attractive, in fact, she was beautiful. And from everything you had been told about her, it would seem as though the jewels she wore were brighter than she would ever be. Plus as the spoiled younger sister of Hae Jae-sang, you were almost certain money had jammed her cerebral functions. But, a healthy dose of caution keeps you safe. You recite to yourself as a woman in a deep raisin-purple mermaid dress that flowed outward at the feet stalked towards the now seated beside you Jimin.

“Waiters will be going around with food, but if you want anything just tell one of us, okay?” He places a hand on your knee cap. And your plastered smile thaws into a genuine one as you nod to him.

“Well, well,” Hae Seulgi makes her appearance. “What’s this? Park got himself a new bitch?” She scoffs, her eyes trailing your form. Though her confidence all but evaporates when a deep snarl rips from beside you. She jumps back, her gaze finally finding the wolf-dog beside you.

“Shelty,” Camly you call her name, combing your fingers through the fur of her head.

In all honesty, you too were surprised at Shelty’s actions. Hae Seulgi had done nothing threatening, yet she released a powerful growl of warning.

“What the fuck?!” She yelps. “What is that thing?!”

“A goat,” Jimin snaps. “What the hell does it look like?”

“You know the rules,” She spits back. “No exotic pets,”

“She’s a dog Seulgi,” Jimin massages his forehead.

“No she’s not that’s clearly a fucking wolf,” She barks, stepping back awkwardly after Shelty bares her teeth at the girl when she tried to approach Jimin. And from what you could see the men seated around the table were equally amused at the sight before them.

A placid smile blossoms on your lips as you had got exactly what you had hoped for.

“Oh, I assure she’s just a dog,” Quickly coming to a stand, you rapidly explain to her that Shelty was a dog. “Please forgive her,” You give her a deep bow.

“And just the hell are you?” She scoffs, arms folded. You bit back a grin as you raised your head, your wide innocent eyes met her sharp catty ones. The seven men freeze at her words, would they really have to introduce you as part of the core so early on?

‘Pathetic,’ Her keen dark brown orbs appraised you. She could tell just from the way you spoke and reacted, you wouldn’t last more than a week in this world. She may have been spoiled by her elder brother, but she was raised in this chaos. Something as weak as you couldn’t handle this… If only she had known.

“A doctor,” You answer simply, your right hand covered by your right as they hung in front of you.

“What?” She sneers.

“Please, as an apology for Shelty’s behaviour一” You held up the bouquet, “一would you accept this bouquet?”

Her eyes scrutinize your form. “I’ve been here less than an hour, I wouldn’t want to start any trouble,”

‘How adorably pitiful, just this once,’ She hums, holding out her hand as she accepts the flowers.

“Seulgi,” Your attention is shifted to the man at the table across the room. A man in a navy-blue striped suit. His hard gaze commands for her presence.

“Well, I guess our meeting will have to be postponed,” She turned away from the table. “See you later Jimin,” She struts away with the bouquet, towards the male at the other table.

“Oh I think I will,” He says out loud, before muttering his next words, “In my nightmare,”

Giggling, you sit back on your chair. And a feeble smile forms on Jimin lips at the sound of your laugh.

“What was all that about?” Yoongi questions, but you keep your silence.

“By the way (Y/n), why did you give her flowers?” Jeongguk asks. “I thought we were offhandedly insulting her,”

You remained silent, you would explain your action to them once you were in the safety of your home. Right now, there were too many ears close by. Or at least that was your intention.

“Oh she did,” A voice comes from the right. During your little exchange, you hadn’t realized you had attracted the attention of a certain woman with the striking bouquet you were holding. And there stood Seoung Hei-ryung, wife of Seoung Seungri, co-head of the largest mafia gang in Seoul

“A foxy little thing aren’t you?” She smiles, confidently stepping closer to you, unafraid of the wolf-dog sitting beside you. Shelty does not react, as she comes to stand beside you.

So she caught your encrypted message. You’d have to be careful with her.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” There was no point in pretending in front of her.

“Geraniums, foxglove, meadowsweet, yellow carnations, and orange lilies. Quite the striking collection,” She muses.

“Hm, an interest in flowers I see,” You hum. “Do you perhaps have a garden?” An innocent question, but your eyes screamed a wicked loftiness.

“Yes, I do actually,” A mischievousness pools in her eyes.

“I happen to like flowers as well,” Smiling, you return.

“I can see that,” You laugh at her words, her sharp gaze trailing your form before she continues. “When an excellent find you’ve made Park Jimin,” She praised.

Jimin hum, unsure of what exactly Hei-ryung was speaking of.

“Here,” She hands you a card, a business card to be precise. “I’d like to get to know you better, and perhaps make a deal or two while we’re at it,”

“I’d like that too, Seoung-ssi,” You gratefully accept the card, and she lets out a loud laugh hearing your formality.

“Please, call me Hei-ryung…” She trails off, asking for your name.

“(L/n) (Y/n), but please me (Y/n),”

“Well then (Y/n), if I call you by your first name you must call me by mine,”

“I would be honored, Hei-ryung-ssi,” You answer.

“Suppose that’ll have to do for now,” She chuckles

The men around the table watch owlishly as you casually chatted and even scored a meeting with essentially the royal family of the mafia world. It was true that they had made a few deals in the past, but those were strictly business. This, on the other hand, the queen had just invited you to tea.

“But what exactly do the flowers have anything to do with this?” Jeongguk's face scrunches in confusion.

“Oh? You didn’t know,” A surprised brow raises on her face. “Well then let me tell you,” She grins.

It would have been most preferable to explain this in the safety of the meeting room, but you weren't exactly about to cut off the queen of the Korean mafia world.

“Geraniums signify stupidity, foxgloves represent insincerity, meadowsweets mean uselessness, yellow carnations mean “You have dissapointed me”, and finally orange lilies symbolizes hatred. Quite striking and full of loathing,” Chuckling, she elucidates the men. Their heads snapped to you as you held onto your coy smile.

“No. Way,” Jeongguk annunciates each syllable as excitement rushes onto his expression.

“Holy shit,” Yoongi runs a hand through his white-blond locks, a chuckle leaving his lips.

“So you cussed her out in flower,” Taehyunh wears a stupefied grin as he holds his forehead with both his hands.

“You are amazing,” Jin heaves out a laugh as he slapped the table.

“Isn’t she?” Another voice interjects from behind you.

And your face visibly falls, you feel a cold chill spread throughout your body. You recognized that voice. You jump off your seat, turning to meet the girl you hadn’t seen for nearly two weeks. The girl you never thought you would ever see again, the girl that shouldn’t be here.

“Soomin?” Meekly, you speak the familiar name as you take in the sight before you. She wore a burgundy, silk A-Line halter, sleeveless dress with a sweep train. And she looked gorgeous, you had never really seen the sweet girl outside of hoodies and leggings, but she certainly seemed to be killing that dress.

“It’s been a while. How have you been (Y/n)?” A hand on her hip, with a cheshire grin curves on her lips as she greets you. Before bending to pet your puppy’s head. “Hey, Shelty girl,” Cooing at the wolf-dog, she runs her fingers through Shelty’s silky fur.

“Wait, you know her?” The youngest articulates the thoughts of all seven men.

Did you know her? Of course, you knew Soomin. Why wouldn’t you? She was your boss. But what was your boss, from the flower shop you worked at doing here? She’s not supposed to be here? She’s supposed to be happily running a successful business you knew she loved. So what was she doing here, in a mafia party? Your thoughts fly in thousands of different directions as you try to make sense of the situation, but were cut off when the girl you thought you knew spoke.

“Hm, follow me, Ji-Eun Duri wants to chat,” She gestures to the door with her head.

You may have been distracted by the revelation before you, but you had regained your composure. And you didn’t miss the way Hei-ryung’s eyes widened ever so slightly before returning to their original position. Though the others were not as inconspicuous as the lady.

“Then, I will be taking my leave,” She turns to you. “Contact me when you can and we’ll set a proper meeting date,” She offers you a gentle smile before excusing herself from the group.

“Well then, come on,” Gesturing with her head, she commands.

“Why?” Jimin’s voice is deep, serious as he speaks.

“Why what?” A questioning brow raises on her brow.

“Why does she want to talk?” He asks.

“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” Soomin’s eyes and her words spoke different meanings.

“Let’s go,” Your voice is final, as you meet Soomin’s gaze head-on.

Though surprised with your initial assertiveness, he stands with him followed the rest of the core. Pushing back their seats they stood.

“Right this way,” A grin breaks into Soomin’s lips as she leads you out the grand banquet hall. You hear soft murmurs around you while crossing the room, you bit your lower lip as you may have attracted more attention than comfortable. But that can come later, for now, you needed answers, you needed to talk to Soomin. And if talking to this Ji-Eun Duri was the only way, then so be it.

“I brought them,” She hollers, entering the room a few twists and turns from the main banquet hall.

The room is dimly lit, a large conference table sat in the center of the room. With a figure sitting at the far end of the table.

“Oh?” A female voice speaks, you notice the voice sounds that of an elder or at least older than anyone else in this room.

“Come, sit,” Ji-Eun Duri invites.

Stepping close, you get a better look at the figure before you. She had jet-black hair, her hair matching the color of the dress she wore. It was a simple design similar to yours. You could feel all your senses alert at her presence, your gaze studying her, trying to understand something, anything.

You hadn’t realized how long you had been staring at the figure until Jimin pulled you to sit beside him, as per usual you take a seat on his left side. And you finally allow your eyes to wander, that is when you finally notice the tense expressions the mafiosos wore. And you knew it was caused by the woman sitting on the other end of the table.

Moments passed, no one spoke, so you decided to ask the question that had been ringing in your head.

“Soomin, what are you doing here?” You ask, surprising even yourself at the calmness it held.

“What do you mean (Y/n)?” Soomin doesn’t sit, instead, standing to the right of Ji-Eun Duri. “I’ve always been here, you’ve just never known.”

“You knew her?” Jimin asks you, and even with the minimal lighting, you could see the frown line setting on his handsome face.

“She was my boss,” You answered. “The flower shop, she’s the owner of the flower shop I worked at,” Your voice steadier than you thought it would be.

“Hmm, honestly, one would think you bunch would show a little gratitude,” Soomin tuts, shaking her head. You could see their gaze flicker form each other then to the standing female.

“What are you talking about?” Sitting up straighter, Yoongi’s eyes narrowed as he spoke.

“You know, if I hadn’t sent (Y/n) to you when I did, your boss would be six feet under right now,” She states matter of factly.

Your eyes widen at her words. She had sent you to them? She had meant to send you straight into that fray? She had sent you to Bangtan's manor knowing there was conflict. She knowingly brought you into this world. ‘This was all on purpose,’

“You what?” Your voice falters ever so slightly.

“You heard me?” Her words are sharp, but dripping in amusement.

And that was all you needed to fully regain your steely composure. You could panic and mull over this late at home, for now, you need to figure out why you were brought into this, and the true intentions behind Duri’s summoning.

Glancing to Jimin, you nod. A silent reassurance that you were fine, and to continue the meeting.

“What do you want, Ji-Eun Duri?” He speaks curtly.

“Oh nothing really,” She responds. “I just wanted to congratulate you on the victory over Yeong Cheol Meong,”

“Honestly, it was like a breath of fresh air to see someone finally use their brain,” She lets out a breath of relief.

“What?” Jimin scowls, the gazes of the men around you darkening with it.

“All you people use is brute force and violence to solve all your problems,” She explains. “So it was nice seeing someone use what they had to their maximum advantage.”

“So well done Park,” Duri praises the male. “Gaining monopoly over the Thailand routes, making connections in foreign lands, and the profit That was one good plan.”

“Though I have a feeling the praise is falling to the person,” Soomin muses, her index finger brushing her lower lip.

“Hm, tell me Park what do you intend to do from here? What do you think would be the best course from here on out?” Duri questioned, leaning her head on her hand.

“We’re not obligated to tell you anything,” The silver-blond bites, his fists clenching. You gently nudge his feet, giving him a soft smile when he turns to you.

“What do you think (Y/n)?” The older woman shifts her attention to you.

You could have given the same reply as Jimin had, completely dodging the question. But you knew they wouldn’t let you off so easily, not with Soomin watching you like a hawk. Your former boss was well aware of your capabilities. And you knew she wouldn’t accept your roundabout answer.

The fact that they knew so much about the plan and things that came after the plan meant they knew, they knew everything. So these questions were more of a test, but a test for what? What were they really after? Going by the fact they brought you to another room, they didn’t want anyone interrupting, anyone listening. They wanted something, but what?

‘Fine, I’ll play along,’ Your gaze shifts to where the mafia don had been seated, meeting his honey-brown orbs. Your eyes spoke silent words, quietly asking him permission to answer the question.

What were you thinking? If you decide to truthfully answer this question then the future movements of the gang would be out in the open. More likely than not they follow whatever strategies you thought of. However, the fact stood that your decisions had yet to lead them astray. And though he didn't understand as to why you wanted to do this, he decided to trust your decision, on the accounts of all the benefits Bangtan had reaped from them.

“(Y/n)?” The ravenette calls your name, amusement, and interest pooling within her dark black orbs.

“It doesn’t matter what world it is, every world has it’s wars. Including this one,” You begin, “And with every war come politics, those two go together hand in hand”

Soomin wears a satisfied smile as she listens with the same interest as Duri.

“Just as politics can cause wars, it can also quell wars,” You meet the older woman’s gaze.

“And? What would’ve been your plan?” She questions. You knew she was following your thoughts, but you play her game.

“It’s simple really, trustworthy allies," Holding back a scoff you continue. “The more, the better,”

“Oh, so you intend to force Yeong into a corner?” A brow raises on her face as she reiterates your words.

“It’s not a bad plan, if you have strong allies backing you, then he can’t move as carelessly as he could if he were dealing with Bangtan alone,” Soomin hums, analyzing your suggestion.

“There's no point in having weapons if there isn’t anyone to use them, and there isn’t any use in having many allies if they’re only going to betray you,” Fingers toying with your hair, you ponder out loud. “But,”

“But?” Duri urges you on.

“If all possible I would want make Bangtan essential for Yeong’s gang survival,” Crossing your right leg over your left, your gaze lifts to meet Duri’s. “No matter how much someone may hate water, their body can’t survive without it.”

“And how do you intend to become Yeong’s water?” The ravenette eyes your form.

“I don’t know,” Shrugging, you answer honestly.

Ji-Eun Duri eyelids open then close, blinking once then twice before she bursts into a loud fit of laughter, her shoulders shaking with her laughs.

Your own eyes run over her form as you dissect her movements as you try to decipher the meaning behind her reaction.

“A curious little thing aren’t you?” Huffing as her laughter subsided, she ran her finger under her lower lip. Your line of sight shifts to Soomin, gauging her expression, only to find it drowning in amusement and a devilish pleasure.

“Well then, (Y/n),” The older woman begins. “Tell me, will you allow me to be the first to join your little alliance?” Pure joy danced in her charcoal-black orbs.

“I offer my full support and backing,” She proposes. “In any country, I have branches in, you will receive full support and cooperation from all my operatives. I’m more than willing to introduce you to any of my contact in whatever country you ask, I’ll even help you make connections or even expand,”

“What do you want?” Expression hardening, you feel your muscles tense. She wanted something, there was no giving in this world, everything was an exchange. So what did she want? And there was no guarantee she wouldn’t betray you, she has no real incentive to stay loyal. Even if she wanted something, that was not enough reason to keep someone loyal, especially people as crafty as her.

At first glance, it would seem like her words drip in narcissism, but that was exactly it, her supposed narcissism makes her easy to underestimate. An extremely dangerous weapon on its own. However, that wasn’t it, you did not know for certain but your gut said she had more than enough power to back whatever words she may speak.

“What do you want in return?” Repeating your question, you twitch your crossed legs.

“Something very simple really,” Humming, she toys with her manicured fingernails. Cocking a brow, you rest your elbow on the conference table.

“Loyalty, I want Bangtan’s loyalty.” She says simply. .

Your mouth gapes, at her words. And though the core members of Bangatn shared a similar reaction, your surprise was caused by two very different sentiments.

‘We’d be sitting pretty if we had one of Seoul's largest drug lords behind us,’ Yoongi thought, picking at the skin of his lips. As the head behind one of the most powerful drug rings, her control reaches much farther than the boundaries of Seoul or even Asia. With her by Bangtan’s side they could expand globally. And she was offering just that, expansion and in return all she wanted was Bangtan’s loyalty, a small price to pay for what Duri was offering. You’d be a fool not to take it, but would you?

Yoongi’s gaze flickers to you then to the older woman sitting at the other end. ‘Come on, (Y/n), we can't pass this up,’

Though you had heard the same words you had understood different meanings. This was why words were dangerous, if you don’t listen carefully, you will only hear what you want to hear, not what the speaker was truly articulating. Like in this instance Duri was asking for the gang’s loyalty, was she? Then your hunch about the woman was proven correct, she was smart and cunningly so, sharp as a knife and just as she had said earlier she took maximum advantage from anything and everything. This time she took advantage with her purposely vague words.

“You’re kidding? You’re kidding right?” Scoffing you push away from the table.

“Oh no, not at all, your loyalty is all I want,” Duri misunderstands the reason behind your disbelief.

“Words are just as lethal as weapons,” Voice sharp, you hiss out.

“I don’t see what’s wrong? All I ask in return for my backing and connection is loyalty,” She knows exactly what’s wrong, and so do you.

“So let me get this straight,” Scoffing, you decide you reiterate Duri’s word in simpler, clearer terms. “You’re offering connection and backing in other countries in exchange for control over the most extensive and most accurate network in Seoul?”

The seven men freeze when they hear those words leave your lips. Their bodies are rigid as they fully comprehend your words, or rather comprehend Ji-Eun Duri’s artful deceit.

Adjusting his cuffs, Jimin sat straighter. Focused on the things Bangtan would gain from the woman, he had overlooked what they would be giving up. But how could he not? Her words were molded in such an inciting trap. And these were the moments he was especially grateful that you were sitting beside him.

And though you had said plenty, you still had more to say, much more.

“The words “I want your loyalty,” is as clear as my skin swamp water. Of course, being aligned with you would mean none of the information collected on you would be shared, but using the term “loyal” loosely then if you asked us not to, we wouldn’t be able to gather intel on you or you could even ask that for people associated with you,” You explain. “And along the lines of information, going by your ambiguous descriptions of the deal, being “loyal” to you would also mean we wouldn’t be able to keep information from you whether it’d be about us and our own affairs or others. You would have not only full access to our networks but also almost full control over them,”

Puffing out a breath, you fold your arms leaning against the office chair. And the men around you visibly gulp as they were now able to see the finely laid trap.

“Did I miss anything?” You ask calmly, your briefly lost composure returning to you. “If so, please feel free to as the list,”

“I think she got all of them,” Soomin quips, nodding her head, thoroughly impressed with your understanding. “What do you think?” She asks Duri.

“Yeah, I think she did,” Sh chuckles. “It’s been some time since anyone has caught my words,” Her eyes form crescents from the wide grin she wears.

“I’d forgotten what it feels like to match wits,” She muses. “Alright, how about I make a better deal?” You watch her with incredulous eyes. Unbelieving of every word that left her mouth.

“I offer Bangtan my loyalty,” Her charcoal orbs land on yours. “In exchange for yours,”

“Again with th一”

“Not theirs,” Duri cuts you off. “Just yours, I want your loyalty (L/n) (Y/n),”

“Mine?” Forehead folding into a confused frown, you try to search for any hidden meaning in her words, any advantage she would gain from having only your loyalty. And you saw none. What was going on?

“Why?” Eyes narrowing, you question her.

“Because I want your loyalty,” Effortlessly dodging the question, she continues. “So do we have a deal or not?”

“What does the term loyalty include?”

“Anything you want it to,” She answers simply, she flicks her wrist.

If there were any advantages of having your loyalty then you couldn’t see it, however, if she were to pledge loyalty to Bangtan the gang would be able to benefit from all her resources. But what were the extent of her resources, was this really worth it?

Shifting your gaze to the men around you, and it dawned on you. No one was speaking, as a matter of fact, they had barely spoken at all. You were discussing the possible future of the gang, and none of the actual gang members were talking. Even Jimin had kept his silence, but why?

Your eyes find Jimin’s, silently asking him for guidance. His expression softens when he sees you looking at him. ‘What should I do?’ Your eyes asked. ‘Let’s take it,’ His answered, nodding, you scan the faces of the rest of Bangtan and their expressions said the same. So it was decided.

“We’ll take it,” The smile on Duri’s face remains the same as you answered. So she had predicted this.

“But,” You add. “Your word isn’t good enough, I want papers, contracts, a physical embodiment of your promise,”

“Oh?” She hums, her eyebrows raising in mild surprise.

“Make no mistake, you’re a threat just as much as you’re an opportunity,” You warn, uncrossing your legs, your hands falling to the armrests of the office chair you were sitting on.

A grin spreads on Soomin’s lips as she watches the interaction.

“Fine,” She says, her eyes closed. “Let’s meet three days from now, we can get everything down on paper, then,” Her gaze flickers to you then to Jimin.

“What do you say, boss?” Mockingly, she asks the silver-blond.

“Send the location of the meeting to Namjoon,” Standing he stares daggers into the older woman, he answers sharply.

“Alright, see you at the meeting, then,” She waves, lightheartedly.

“See ya later (Y/n),” Soomin called from her place beside Duri.

You stand just with the other core members, as your eyes flicker to Soomin’s catty ones then to Duri before you turn to leave the room.

“What the hell just happened in there?” Taehyung breathed out as you walked down the carpeted corridors.

What the hell had happened? Everything felt like a blur, one moment you are reuniting with Soomin in a place you never imagined you would. Then Ji-Eun Duri happened, just who the hell was she? And why did she want your loyalty? Was it some kind of scheme, a ploy? You’d have to ask Namjoon for proper information on her.

“I know right?” Jeongguk exclaims, his tone brimming with excitement.

“Did we really just strike a deal with Ji-Eun Duri? Like the Ji-Eun Duri?” Hoseok mutters still in soft shock.

“First Seoung Hei-ryung, then Ji-Eun Duri. Just one power woman after another,” Jin chuckles in disbelief, that you had just arranged meetings with not just one but two of the most powerful women in the mafia world.

“I know right,’’ The youngest joins in.

“I don’t think you understand the weight of your accomplishment (Y/n),” Namjoon says, impressed with what you had done.

“Yes, you did an amazing job,” Jimin praises, bringing you closer to him by your waist.

Sighing, you stopped in your tracks, staying in place. You were glad that they were happy, you really were, but seeing Soomin, the deal, you just needed time to process everything. And a party was not the place you wanted to do that.

“Jimin,” You whisper, wrapping your arms around the silver-blonde, you bury your face into Jimin’s neck. “Can we go home?” Mumbling, you nuzzle further into his neck.

A soft smile curved onto his lips as he curls his arms around you. “Of course, love,”

But your stomach twists and grumbles, making a very loud rumbling noise, a signal that your empty stomach was and crying to be filled.

“Can we go to McDonald's first?” You ask, looking up to him.

The silence continues for a solid minute before all seven men burst into laughter. Your eyes flutter at the sight before you join in on the laughing.

“Anything you want,” The mafia don chuckles, “Are any of you staying?”

“What?” Taehyung spits, eyebrows furring in anger. “And miss out on McDonald's? Fuck that,” He says.

“Let’s go to McDonald's!” Hoseok exclaims, his fists pumping into the air.

Laughing, you leave the grand gala in favor of a fast-food restaurant together.

“So this is the girl you chose?” Duri observes the swirl of the wine as she twirls her glass.

“Yes,” Soomin spoke softly, leaning against the wall behind the onyx haired woman.

“Did you see the confused look on her face when I said I want her loyalty?” Duri chuckles airily.

“Honestly, I’m not sure how someone could be so sharp and so dull at the same time,” Soomin sighs, her soft-blond hair falling onto her face.

“Why did I want your loyalty?” Duri says as though speaking to you. “It’s simple my child, when you take over the world I want to stand at your side.”

“In the first three days of her arrival, Bangtan took over the Thai weapons routes. In a mere three days, so imagine what she could do in three months or three years,” The older woman asserts.

“The game board just shifted my daughter,” Sipping her wine, the older woman stands. “Things are changing, whether it be for the better or for worse,”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” The younger woman hums thoughtfully.

“Well, I see every situation as both an opportunity and a threat,” You muse, watering the sunflowers. “O一of course that doesn’t apply to every situation,” You stammer out, realizing you had just said something people would normally classify as strange.

‘Seeing every situation as an opportunity and a threat, huh? I look forward to seeing what you become (Y/n),’

#Purple Irises #Mafia au #Mafia Boss Jimin x reader #Mafia jimin #mafia jungkook #Mafia Yoongi #mafia jin #Mafia Namjoon #Mafia Hoseok #Mafia Taehyung #Mafia BTS #Doctor reader kind of #Jimin x reader #Park Jimin x reader #Park Jimin

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katsuflossy · 4 years

Note

Hii~ so I was wondering if maybe you could do a scenario or hc with whoever you desire meeting their s/o's friends, specifically the gremlin friend whos been dragged into the public by the crackhead friend?

Sero Meeting the S/o’s Friends

Pairing: Sero Hanta x reader

T/W: Obscenities, slight touch of body insecurities

Taglist: @sunset-novice-writer @goatsenpaiultimate

A/n: Hiiii- So i hope it’s to your liking. I assume the reader had two friends so if it’s not what you wanted then I’m sorry 🥺 But I hope you really like it!❤️

Sero’s ears picked up on a high pitched commotion downstairs. Mass squealings split through the air of Height Alliance drawing the curiosity of the few inhabitants. When he planted both of his feet on the lounge room floors, his eyes wandered to the leader of the Bakusquad, who was finishing work on the kitchen with a ferocious grip on the pen and scribbles on the verge of ripping the paper. Then his gaze traveled to the three on the floor. Under the pile stock laid you, who was squealing at equal volumes as the two on top of your body. The scene was both quite comedic and cute which ruptured a chuckle loud enough for (Y/n) to hear. She craned her neck to Sero’s figure before smiling even more widely at the boy.

“Sero! Baby!— Get off of me dumbasses! Hi baby!” You rose from the floor to jump into his arms, him easily catching you before you both could be sent to the ground. All the noise and happiness finally got to Bakugo as he slammed his notebook shut, grabbed all his supplies and marched himself up to his dorm room, grumbling under his breath and glaring at your smile as he passed. His nerve bulging from his temple throbbed harder as you smiled even wider at him. As soon as Bakugo left the room you whispered in Sero ear. A giggle passed your throat at the secret.

“I told him if he is nice when my friends are over, I would ask my family to send a bunch of Adobo and Goya seasoning for cooking.” Sero chuckled along with you and gave you a high-five.

“Good bribe babe.”

“Thanks, I learned from the best.” You fluttered your eyes at him before you both broke into laughter.

“So we’re just supposed to stand here while you guys make lovey-dovey eyes and shit?” The giggling only continued on both sides and you introduced your friends to the Cellophane quirk wielder.

“My apologies, your royal highness, this is Suki, short for Itsuki and he’s a royal pain in the ass.” Just as your hand was laid out to introduce him, he bent down and nipped at your palm, which allowed you to reflexively withdraw and chop him at the band of his neck. A whine came from his throat.

“Wassup.” You glared at him before introducing your other friend.

“And this is our pint-sized friend, Aaryell.” You laid your hand in front of her only for the little one to slap it away.

“Thanks for the introduction but I’m sure your boyfriend already knows I’m fucking short.” She, in turn, glared at you before smiling sweetly at your boyfriend who’s trying hard not to burst out laughing.

“And y’all know this is Sero… Just Sero.” You patted his chest and attempted to move away from him only to be squashed straight into his figure.

“Hi, nice to meet ya! I’m Sero, the ever-loving boyfriend to some chinchilla named (Y/n).” His turn to embarrassed you left your two friends howling at his introduction. Your laughter followed theirs as you snuggled further into Sero’s side. Suki took the time to talk to the prospective hero.

“Well, it’s finally nice to officially meet the chinchilla’s boyfriend. All we see through the phone are elbows and levitating hands feeding our gerbil friend.” All three begun to laugh again until you swipe your hand across his shoulders, eliciting a whine from the beanstalk.

“See what we’re not gonna do is make these rodent nicknames a thing.” His hands rose up to surrender. Sero pulls his physically aggressive girlfriend to his side for the second time.

“So what do you guys wanna do?” The new pair looked at each other. A goofy smile challenged a glossy snarl, both not giving up until Aaryell shouted.

“We are not going into the city!” Suki put a hand at his heart and let out a dramatic gasp.

“Why I wouldn’t suggest such a thing?! But can we?” The shortest one of the group grumbled under her breath about the insolent giant beside her, asking herself why is she friends with “this dumbass”.

(Y/n) smiled at the duo before looking up at Hanta. His quirk didn’t need to be telepathy to know what she wanted.

“I don’t see why not, plus we can avoid Mineta from stalking our business because a new girl is around.” Aaryell shuddered at the possibility of seeing Mineta, recalling the facetime chats you guys had talking about the times Mineta tried to look under your skirt and failed harshly. She grabbed everyone’s hands before stepping to the exit.

“You had me at Mineta.”

The sky acted as a caterpillar going through metamorphosis. Cloudy blue surrounded the city, encouraging all the citizens of Musutafu to be outside. The streets were congested with middle schoolers, high schoolers, and even business workers alike. So, Itsuki took the initiative of being the beacon, using his height to ensure you all weren’t lost in the sea of very pushy people. It wasn’t until you and Aaryell almost got washed away by the human riptide that Itsuki demanded a duo system. The two taller ones of the group took one of the vertically challenged. Itsuki’s quick decision of picking Aaryell as his duckling and the reddish hue on her brown cheeks did not pass either you or your boyfriend’s eyes. A simple glance between you and Hanta had decided what the goal of today would be: Operation Best Friend To Lover is on the go.

However, all the attempts had failed. Your idea to check out an arcade with a new VR zombie game flunked completely, resulting in Aaryell whopping Suki over the head with the controller due to his tries of whispering in her ear and poking her body.

Sero’s was even worse, his idea in going to a photo museum resulted in Itsuki attracting a mass of middle and highschool girls, gushing about his physique and face. He took it all in and a half as he interacted happily with his growing group of ‘fans’. Aaryell stood in discomfort picking at her stubby fingers and plush thighs before you declared that everyone was leaving. By the time you and Sero’s plan of going to a botanical garden came up, the sky’s second stage of metamorphosis had begun. The once azure shade tinted to a dark gray, the sun entrapped in its cloudy cocoon. Big droplets of rain clattered noisily against the street and pedestrians scattered to find shelter. Sero spotted an underground cafe before everyone could’ve been completely soaked.

The cool ventilation inside riddled your skin in goosebumps. Before you could say anything, Aryell spoke up.

“Jeez, it’s kinda cold in here.” She rubbed her arms to smooth out the texture on her skin and spark a little warmth. Her shoulder met with the weight of a jacket too long for her stature. Itsuki looked down at her with a smile.

“Here you can have it until you’re warmed up.”

You nudged Sero in his side to observe the scene in front of you. However, cellophane quirk wielder was already grinning at the two as Aaryell blushed then punched the giant in the shoulder, resulting in a whine and a “your sadist side is showing again.” By the time the two went to the counter to order the food, you and Sero took refuge in one of the booths to analyze the situation.

“Okay so Sero, give me the stats.”

“Well your arcade date didn’t work and mine did.” A gasp broke through your throat at his harsh comment.

“Mine wasn’t a complete flob! She started rubbing his head after 15 minutes of cursing and pouting, so that’s good.” Sero rolled his eyes, not budging from his argument.

“So like how Bakugo would beat the shit out of Kirishima in practice then throw a cold towel at him when no one’s looking.” You huffed in admittance. Your plan failed but his wasn’t better.

“Yeah well, at least mine didn’t result in making Mr. Adonis’ head swelling and Adonia insecure.” Sero shoulders slumped slightly, knowing that his plan hurt a new friend.

“Yeah yeah, I apologized about making her uncomfortable while you were chewing out Itsuki.” You smiled at your boyfriend proudly before reaching over the table and pecking his lips, eliciting his usual smile back to life.

“That’s why I’m proud of you, baby” He pecked your lips again before addressing the situation at hand. With a coordinated effort, the evening was spent with the duo blushing and laughing at each other’s jokes while you and Sero smiling and fist-bumping like fairy odd parents.

The party of four finally decided to part ways as the orange and yellow inks spilled on to the sky, looking like the wings of a monarch butterfly. You and Sero waved as the two walked toward the train being boarded, giggling as they secretly, but not so secretly, linked pinkies. Just as the two of you turned around, you turned to Hanta.

“I bet all the Super Smash Bros Ultimate skins you have that they’ll text me tonight declaring their crush for each other.”

“Hmm, I bet they’ll text you after 12 and one-thirds of the snacks your family sends you, the spicy stuff included.”

“Deal.”

[Extended clip]

#hanta sero x reader #bnha sero hanta #bnha sero #sero hanta x reader #sero hanta scenario #hanta sero scenarios #sero x reader #bnha hanta #bnha sero x reader #bnha sero hanta x reader

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creativitynchaos · 4 years

Text

Operation ‘Boop!’

I doubt I’ll be even noticed, but I decided to take a leap and attempt to join in on the fandom fun, so here goes nothing. Please be gentle with me.

MC finds themselves unable to deal with a rare quiet day and decides to venture out on a silly mission alongside Solomon.

Days in the Devildom were barely ever quiet and boring. Living alongside the seven Avatars of Sin, in itself was something worthwhile. The variety of personalities, interests and attitudes among the brothers always ensured an interesting day and some kind of mischief to partake in. MC was convinced that when, occasionally, a relatively quiet day occurred it made it all the more unbearable. Theoretically it should be impossible to find yourself bored whilst in a house filled with demons and yet, it was so. Accompanied by a sigh, so dramatic Asmodeus would be proud, MC sprawled on the floor of their room, limbs spread out as far as it was possible. Their sharp gaze pointed towards the ceiling as if it had personally offended their ancestors. A certain, questionable sorcerer watched on in amusement from their bed. MC glanced at the white haired man, as he sat there nonchalantly being as handsome as he was shady, an ever present grin on his face. "You seem bored." He stated the obvious, slender fingers cupping his chin in that habitual gesture of his. "Well duh." MC replied sitting up and leaning against their bed as they reached for their D.D.D in hopes of finding something to entertain them." It's been so quiet all day and you're no help." They scoff scrolling through videos on DevilTube until one with a cute puppy caught their eye. "Aww is that so?" Solomon chuckled, enjoying the others distress a tad too much. He leaned over, glancing at the screen, as a cute dog in the video waged his tail happily, a finger gently tapping its nose. MC's eyes brightened, as if an idea struck them, a grin spreading in their face. "What is it?" The sorcerer inquired, curiously watching the change in their behaviour. MC let out a soft laugh turning slightly as they sat on the bed, facing their shady friend. Eyes sparkling with mischief that made even Solomon feel concerned. Just as he opened his mouth to question the other human, his own D.D.D buzzed. Turning away with reluctance, Solomon grabbed the device looking at the message which was from... MC? "What are you..." He questioned as he turned back to face them only to be cut of and freeze in surprise. "Boop!" MC exclaimed with a wide, happy smile as they tapped his nose, which had stunned the sorcerer. He blinked a few times, processing what had just occurred before letting out a chuckle of his own. "Well, you got me." He admitted, raising his hand up in defeat. MC grinned widely, satisfied with his reaction as they jumped to their feet." Where are you off to?" "I'm gonna get everyone else, come on!" They declared grabbing onto his arm and dragging him out the room. Solomon allowed it, curious as to where this strange mission will take them.

The two had barely ventured out into the hallway when their first victim came into view. Mammon, who couldn't be with MC due to a photo-shoot, was angrily stomping down the hall, clearly on his way to their room. He narrowed his eyes at the sight of the two humans rushing out of the room in excitement. "Oi! What do ya think you're doin' , huh?!" He spoke approaching the two and sending a glare in Solomon's direction once he had noticed their hands. "Hmm? ...oh! Whoops, sorry!" MC called out sheepishly as they noticed they were still holding onto the sorcerer hand, letting go with a cheeky grin. Solomon merely shrugged, the physical contact not bothering him whatsoever. His gaze met MCs, eyebrow raised only to be met with a grin and a wink. "How was your shoot, Mammon?" "Huh? It was fine, don't try to distract me!" The Avatar of Greed scoffed as he turned to Solomon. "Tryna get cosy with MC whilst I'm not there, huh?!" He questioned with a scoff, jabbing a finger in Solomon's chest, as the human stood there, amused." Well don't ya forget I'm their first, so don't get any ideas! They are the Great Mammons!" He proclaimed as he turned to the human only to let out a surprised gasp as he felt one, warm fingertip gently tapping his nose. His eyes went wide, brilliant blue hues gazing at 'his' human in confusion. "Boop!" MC exclaimed, eyes sparkling and lips shaped into a dazzling smile, watching as the second born deflates right before their eyes, pink dusting his cheeks. Confidence replaced by a flustered mess. "W-what the h-h-hell are ya d-doin'?!" He exclaimed, jumping back and covering his nose with his hand. MC however offered no explanation, simply sending the demon a wink before grabbing a very entertained Solomon and dashing away. "See you later, Mammon!" They called out cheerfully, leaving the white haired demon stunned and still blushing in the hallway.

Crossing the second eldest of the list, the two humans made their way forward noticing a figure coming out of one of the rooms. The Avatar of Lust skipped out of his room, waving enthusiastically at the two as they approached. "Hello there~!" He sang as they came close, sending a wink in their direction. "Hello Asmo." Solomon greeted casually with a small smile of his own. MC simply waved, wondering how to go about the situation. They glanced at Solomon who sent them a small nod. "Oooh! What's this?!" Asmo asked in a suggestive tone, noticing the exchange." What could you two be planning, hmm?" "Well, MC is on a bit of a mission." Solomon explained with a chuckle, making Asmo turn towards them curiously. "I ask for your absolute cooperation and trust." MC stated, face serious as they looked at the demon. Asmo giggled but gave a nod, a playful smile on his face. "You can do whatever you'd like with me." He purred with a wink, hands behind his back as he leaned forward. "Do not move please." MC asked, rolling their eyes at the 'offer' though a smile played on their lips. The brown haired demon gave a nod, a smile still on his lips as he leaned in a tad closer, watching the human curiously. Lifting their hand very slowly, they brought it up towards Asmo's face, eyes locked with his. Slowly lifting up one finger MC gently tapped his nose, their smile widening. "Boop!" They called out happily, making both Solomon and Asmo laugh along with them. Their silly playfulness making both their hearts swell with warmth." Haha! Thanks a lot, Asmo~" MC exclaimed, giving the demon a quick hug before turning and moving forward, Solomon close behind.

Continuing on their little adventure the two humans have stumbled into the living room spotting a certain otaku splayed out on the sofa, eyes focused on the handheld console in his hands. Just as the two approached, Leviathan let out a cheer throwing the console onto the sofa as he celebrated. He noticed the two and grinned at them. "Hey there, normies." He called out as the two approached him. "You seem happy." Solomon noted, making the Avatar of Envy go on one of his quickly spoken tangents about some game based of off a long titled anime. "... and now I managed to get up on the rank board as number one..." He rambled, unaware of a certain normie slowly but surely sneaking closer to him. Turning to the side, to see if the two were listening, Levi's words trailed of as he came face to face with MC. Cheeks flushed, as the human seemingly appeared near him out of nowhere, the purple haired demon blinked. He opened his mouth to speak but before he had the chance a hand shot up from the humans side, quickly moving forward and gently tapping his nose with a fingertip. The Avatar of envy found himself stunned at the action. "Boop!" They cheered, Solomon chuckling to himself at the scene before him. He was rather glad to be able to witness such sights. With laughter on their lips, the two humans left the frozen Leviathan behind, eyes still wide and mouth open as he came to term with being booped. Although a flush had begun to spread across his pale cheeks.

Happy with how successful the mission has been so far, the two had ventured into the kitchen, where they knew a certain demon could be found. Beelzebub had just finished eating, when he had noticed the two humans stroll in and smile in his direction. "Hello, MC, Solomon." He greeted them with a smile of his own. Noticing how MC almost skipped towards him, in excitement, which he found adorable. "Hi, Beel." MC greeted as they approached the tall and muscular demon, Solomon staying behind by the door with a wave in Beels direction. They had approached, looking up at the demon, who towered over them, gazing down with an affectionate look in his purple eyes. "Did you want something to eat?" The Avatar of Gluttony inquired curiously, holding out a cookie towards them, only to raise an eyebrow when MC shook their head. "Nope. I need you to do me a favour, though." They answered, grin on their face as they gesture for him to lean closer. Beelzebub tilted his head observing the human curiously, but nodded in agreement. He bent down, moving his face closer to theirs, his purple eyes gazing into MC's. He watched with interest as the human before him lifted a hand to his face, a dazzling smile on their face, and gently touched his nose with a finger. "Boop!" The words came out of their mouth for the fifth time that day, smile never leaving their face. Solomon watched from the doorway, lips curled into a smile at how confused the orange haired demon was. Unsure what this was about, Beel raised his eyebrows, however, the happy expression on MC's face was enough for him. No need for explanation if they were happy. With a quick but tight squeeze planted on the demon, MC turned on their heel with a cheery "Thanks, Beel!" and strode out of the kitchen behind Solomon, seemingly on a mission. Beel stood in the kitchen for a moment or two more, before he simply went back to eating, happy he got to see MCs smiling face.

With one twin checked off the list, it only made sense to go after the second one. The Avatar of Sloth was, unsurprisingly, sleeping in the attic room as he often did. MC and Solomon stood in the doorway for a moment, unsure if the mission was worth the risk, but they decided they had come too far to back down. Taking a deep breath, MC moved forward, walking towards the napping demon as quickly and quietly as they could. Reaching the edge of the bed, they were about to cheer internally, only to look down and meet the unimpressed but amused, purple gaze of Belphegor. "What are you doing, sneaking about?" He questioned as he stretched, slightly sitting up on the bed. He threw a suspicious look towards an innocently smiling Solomon before looking back at MC." Planning on pulling a prank?" "What, no, no!" They reassured, waving their hands in slight panic. "I wouldn't do that to you." MC added with a soft smile, making the blue haired demon relax slightly. "What is it, then?" He questioned, laying back down onto the bed, curiously looking up at the human. "Something of utmost importance." They replied cheerfully, leaning down. Belphegor watched with interest and slight suspicion as MC moved their hand closer to his face, one finger stretched out and aiming at his nose. A quiet laugh escaped him as he realised what they were doing. Pressing their fingertip gently onto his nose, MC let out a victorious laugh. "Boop!" With one final word they straightened out and strolled out of the room with enthusiasm, Solomon following after them, amused but surprised by how easily his human companion seemed to receive what they wanted from the brothers. Belphie lay in his spot, a soft smile on his face, even after MC had gone, not sure why, but feeling strangely happy.

Moving on MC made their way into the library, spotting the blond Avatar of Wrath (and pettiness) sitting in an armchair and of course, reading. His back was turned to the door, however after their failed sneak attempt earlier, MC decided not to try it again. Instead they simply strode up to the demon, as Solomon watched, only slightly concerned about their safety. They walked up behind Satan , leaning over his shoulder and glancing at him. The green eyed demon turned his head slightly, a small smile on his lips. "Hmmm? What is it MC?" He asked softly, placing his opened book on his lap and giving the human his full attention. They hardly interrupted his reading in such a forward and bold way, so he was rather curious about it. "I REALLY and I mean REALLY need to do something and it requires your assistance." They said with a serious expression, gazing into those thoughtful green eyes with their determined ones. "Oh? Is that so?" Satan teased, noticing Solomon in the entrance. The sorcerer observing with interest. He looked back at MC, scanning their face in an attempt to figure out what their plan was. "Well, I just need you to stay still for a moment." MC muttered as they raise a hand, only for Satan to gently catch it in his own, eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. Solomon leaned on the door frame, wondering if this is the moment the mission fails. Refusing to give up MC smiled at Satan, playfully trying to get their hand free much to the blonds amusement. He found himself enjoying the moment so much he didn't realise their other arm circled around his head. Another hand suddenly appeared in his vision as a finger gently landed on the tip of his nose, surprising him slightly. MC laughed at their victory "Boop!" They call out as they jump away from the demon, blowing him a kiss and making their escape. Satan watched the two leave the library, eyes following MC's figure till it was out of sight. He figured he could let it go just once, since that smile they showed him had made him feel something amazing.

With six of the brothers checked off the list the hardest part of the mission came. The first born. Slowly making their way to his study, MC and Solomon were surprised to find Diavolo, Barbatod and even Simeon inside, alongside the Avatar of Pride. "Well if it isn't our two human exchange students." Diavolo exclaimed, happily waving them inside. "Are we interrupting something?" Solomon asked curiously only to be met with the laughter of the Prince of the Devildom as he shook his head. "We were simply having a chat." Simeon explained with his usual soft smile, where he sat on a chair, elegantly sipping tea. "Did you need something?" Lucifer inquired, looking towards MC. The human gazed back at him, pondering for a moment. The unsure look on their face, making the men slightly concerned."Did something happen? What did my brothers do?" Lucifer inquired, eyes narrowed. MC shook their head vigorously. "No one did anything wrong!" They assured the red eyed demon, an idea popping into their head. "I.... um, I had something to tell you!" The added, making Lucifer nod, gesturing for them to come closer. Taking a deep breath, the human was aware this was a dangerous game to play, but well, this was a once chance thing. There can not be a second attempt. Not with Lucifer. Approaching the demon, MC glanced at the three men, who were watching them intently. Even Barbatos seemed to have no idea what was happening, that ability of his never did him any good when it came to the human. "Well?" Lucifer urged them to speak, making MC lean in closer. "So, basically...please don't kill me." They proclaimed, making the demon turn his head in confusion only to feel a finger gently tap his nose out of nowhere. Solomon watched in slight disbelief , along with the other three men. "Boop!" MC called out, jumping away from the stunned demon the moment they pulled away their hand. The room was silent. Everyone seemed conflicted as to how to react, that is until Diavolo let out a loud laugh. "Haha, how curious and adorable!" He called out, turning towards MC, eyes sparkling." Is that a human thing?" He questioned. "Uh, kind of?" MC shrugged, glancing at Solomon." It's seen as a bit silly show of affection towards someone." They explained making the two demons and one angel smile at the answer. "How wonderful! That sounds like such a nice thing to receive. How was it Lucifer?" Simeon question, turning to the demon. He sat in his chair, a conflicted look on his face. A part of him wanted to tell MC off for doing such a thing in front of Lord Diavolo, however, a part of him simply wanted to pull them into his arms. "Well, it was definitely unexpected." He replied, finally, clearing his throat as to hide his slightest embarrassment. "Though, not unpleasant." "Well, I must say, I'm feeling rather jealous..." Barbatos teased, amused look on his face. MC grinned, jumped forward and... "Boop!" They called, tapping Barbatos on the nose, making him go wide eyed before a smile spread on his face. "Haha! They got you too, Barbatos." Simeon laugh, remaining still as he noticed MC approach him. He smiled gently as he turned his face, already prepared. MC grinned back, gently tapping his nose. "Boop!" They called out. Solomon leaned against the wall, not quite believing his eyes, both Barbatos and Simeon had extremely happy and content looks on their faces. And as if a final cherry on top, Diavolo had jumped to his feet leaning his face close to MC's with expectant eyes. Not even Lucifer could contain his amusement at the scene. As the human reach up and tapped the nose of the Demon Prince with their finger. "BOOP!" They both called out as Diavolo mimicked the action, tapping MCs nose with his own hand.

MC jumped happily as they cheered. Their mission accomplished and boredom the last thing of their mind, as they realised they were going to get payback for their little adventure.

WORTH IT.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me solomon #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon

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thelordofdarkreunion · 3 years

Text

Magnificent Scoundrels- Rock n’ Roll

This one is definitely a little late. Took me a while to write it, and I had to make several changes. It might be a bit awkward in parts, but that is because I have tried to portray each character faithfully and tried to have them do what they would actually do in the battle scenes. As per usual, I own none of these characters except for Thomas Drake. Enjoy! (Side note: I figured out how to use the “read more” so this won’t be as long in the dash!)

In the hangar of the Normandy, Adam Vir and Master Chief waited. The Chief was currently flipping through everyone’s communication channels.

“Do you really trust this guy, Captain?” That was the internal communications of the Enterprise.

“No. And his group of armsmen is putting me on edge. But we control this ship and we have transporters and they don’t.” The rest coming from Kirk’s crew was all military and technological jargon. He flipped to the Apocalypse's internal communications.

“So, the question is: since it’s a fruit, tomato, mixed with sugar, is ketchup a smoothie?” That was Drake. Of course it was.

“Well, by that definition, yes,” said an unfamiliar voice.

“But ketchup has vinegar in it. And if you think smoothies have vinegar, well, then you really need to reevaluate your life’s choices,” replied someone else.

“An excellent point! Indeed, what is a smoothie? Does vinegar belong in your smoothies?” said Drake. Master Chief shook his head and changed channels. He had a feeling that if he listened to that conversation for much longer, his head would implode.

“How did he get that stuff? Twenty suits of carapace armor, five crates of hot-shot lasguns, ten crates of normal lasguns, a crate of chainswords, and two power swords, all with Imperial markings!” That was Kasteen, commander of the Valhallans. “And, Cain, what was that thing? An Exitus rifle? I’ve never heard of it.”

“That last one’s the one that worries me. The reason I know of it is because of my work with Inquisitor Vail,” replied Cain.

“Shit. You think he stole it from the Inquisition?”

“The only people who have access to those are Inquisitors and Vindicares.”

“Oh he’s beyond frakked.” The Chief cut the communications as Shepard walked into the hangar bay. He was wearing a full set of black combat armor with a heavy helmet. Vir, the other occupant of the hangar, looked up from where he was fiddling with his own armor.

“Shepard. Pleased to see you.” His one good green eye gleamed from under a shock of blond hair. “Are we ready to go?”

“Give me a sec.” Shepard turned to the hooded and violet masked figure that was present with him at the Scoundrel’s first meeting. “Tali?” he asked the figure. “Are they going to know we’re coming?”

“No, commander.” It was a feminine voice, with a strange and slightly mechanical accent that emanated from the suit. “The engineers aboard the Enterprise and Apocalypse are quite good at what they do. It would be interesting to know what all these new people have! Technology-wise, I mean. The possibilities of-” Shepard cut her off.

“Good to know, Tali.”

“Right. Sorry. Got carried away.”

“If you’d like, I’ll give you a tour of the Apocalypse,” cut in Drake’s suave voice over their earpieces. “That, of course, extends to the rest of you.” Master Chief keyed his comm.

“You’ve been listening to us this whole time?” he asked.

“Well, I can’t talk about vinegar smoothies forever, now, can I? To get more to the point, Cain and I are in position, and Cooper and Quill are on their way. This thing all depends on you, so I suggest you get down here before they notice fifty Imperial Guardsmen and fifteen mercenary armsmen hanging outside their front gate.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going.” They boarded the shuttle, Master Chief having to hunch his massive frame to avoid banging into the doors. The ride to the muddy-brown planet below them was smoot and silent. From the window of the transport, they could see the silhouettes of the teams’ starships above them, gleaming in the weak yellow light of the nearby sun. The atmospheric entry was much smoother than either Vir or Master Chief had ever felt, and the shuttle landed on the planet much faster than they expected. The shuttle’s three occupants disembarked quickly, professionally, and set out in a trot to the distant specter of the military base. They arrived on schedule, and found a small electrical access passage, barely tall enough to squeeze through, exactly where Drake’s map said it was.

Drake checked the timer on his wrist computer. His armsmen and several Imperial Guardsmen cluster around him, waiting expectantly.

“And...nine minutes and twenty-five seconds for Shepard to get his ass in gear and get planetside. If you had more than ten minutes, pay up.” There were grumblings in the crowd, while money and liquor exchanged hands. One of the armsmen looked up.

“Captain, how long for the other timer?” Drake checked his wrist again.

“...nineteen minutes and twenty six...twenty seven seconds since we got here, and they still haven’t noticed over a hundred armed hostiles sitting outside their front gate.” He made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Sloppy. If you bet under twenty minutes, you're probably going to be losing something.” He glanced over to where Cain and Jurgen were leaning against the compound’s outer wall. “How are you two holding up?”

Cain looked up from a mug of steaming liquid in his hands. “Fine. These people still haven’t noticed us?” Drake snorted.

“No. I’m really good at what I do, and they’re really bad. Honestly, I’m not quite sure how they managed to steal the thing we’re after in the first place.”

On the other side of the compound, Peter Quill paced.

“What’s taking them so long?” he hissed. Gamora, his green-skinned second in command, looked up from where she was sitting and sharpening a sword.

“Relax. We’re fine.”

“I know…” Quill trailed off, paced more, then turned back. “Do you think that these people know what they’re doing?” Cooper, who had been silently checking his weapons up until this point, spoke.

“Shepard is supposed to be a hero, and a special forces operative, based on Drake’s briefing.” Noticing Quill’s blank look, he gave a very good incredulous stare, considering he had his helmet on. “You didn’t read it?”

“Uh...maybe.” Cooper and Gamora both shook their heads.

“Shepard’s is apparently very good. At least, according to Drake. And the problem with that is we don’t know if Drake is telling the truth about anything.” Quill considered this. He did have a point.

Shepard, Vir, and Master Chief squeezed through the narrow metal electrical duct and into a small, dimly lit concrete room in the basement of the compound. They brushed plaster dust off themselves before looking up. Shepard tapped his wrist and some sort of glowing orange hologram sprang to life, covering his let forearm. The others leaned in and recognized it as Drake’s map of the compound.

“Right. So we are here,” Shepard highlighted the small room. “The item is here.” He traced a path throughout the sun-levels to a large main room in the center of the basement. “We need to stay low and follow this path.” Shepard glanced up and pointed at Master Chief. “You’re a super-soldier, so you’re taking point.” The Chief nodded.

“Copy that.” He unslung his weapon, dropped into a crouch, and proceeded forward, the two others following him. They walked through the concrete and metal halls, weapons at the ready, searching for any sign of life. Despite being over seven feet tall and clad in bulky armor, Master Chief moved with the deadly silence of a professional soldier. Twice they were almost caught, but due to their superior training and skills, they melted into the shadows as enemy patrols passed by. Through more hallways they made their way, hearing the laughter and occasionally fights of mercenaries. The enemy here was no more alert than they were on the main level, allowing the three to pass through the labyrinthian passageways undetected. They reached a large open area, where Master Chief suddenly gestured for a stop. Peering past the Chief’s massive shoulder, Shepard could see why. The open room was littered with mercenaries, lounging around with weapons still holstered. By his estimate, there were about twenty of them. Too many to take on without raising the alarm. Shepard cursed quietly under his breath, then pressed a finger to his ear.

“Drake,” he hissed. “We’re blocked. There’s a group in our way. We need a distraction.”

“Distraction you say?” The three could feel Drake’s smile over the audio. “Give me twenty.”

Outside the Compound

Drake slid up to the compound gate’s outside audio panel. He slid a knife under a small plate at the base of the panel and slid a small rectangular device from his belt into a slot.

“Let’s see here…” he muttered to himself. “Are you stupid enough to connect the PA system to the main computer? Yes...yes you are.” He tapped several buttons on his wrist computer and took a deep breath.

Inside the Compound

Shepard and Vir jumped as Drake’s voice crackled from the building’s PA system.

“Attention assorted idiots. I am Captain Thomas Drake. You may have heard of me. I am here, waiting just outside the front gate. I am going to kill you all and take back the black box. Come and get me.” The message abruptly terminated, and cheery music started playing.

“Private Perks is a funny little coger with a smile, a funny smile. Five feet none he’s an artful little dodger with a smile, a funny smile. Flush or broke he’ll have his little joke…” Shepard, Vir, and even the superhuman Master Chief started at the loudspeaker as the music played.

“Drake, what the hell are you doing?” asked Shepard.

“Creating a distraction,” replied Drake, just as cheerfully as the song.

“Telling the mercenaries to come and kill you and playing Smile, Smile, Smile is not a distraction,” stated Master Chief flatly.

“You sure about that? Look in front of you,” said Drake. Sure enough, the mercenaries occupying the room had grabbed their weapons and were hustling up the stairs to the main level. Shepard’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish, then he sighed.

“Fine, let’s go.” As the last of the mercenaries trailed from the room, the three Scoundrels slipped by on their way to the item.

Outside the Facility

Drake glanced at his wrist computer and nodded at a group of armsmen.

“Four guards in the compound beyond the gate. There, there, there, and there.” He gestured at four spots beyond the wall. The armsmen nodded and took positions near the gate. “Overriding and opening the gate in three...two...one go!” Drake pressed a button and the massive armored gate swung open. The armsmen stepped forward and fired. The four mercenary guards pitched forward, dead. Drake nodded at the remaining Guardsmen and armsmen. “Right. Through the gate and set up a firing position. They’ll be coming, probably disorganized, from the main door.” He pointed at a large armored set of double doors that led inside the main facility. The soldiers nodded and readied their weapons. Drake pressed another button on his wrist.

On the other side of the Compound

“Cooper, Quill, this is Drake. The mercenaries are going to attack our position while Shepard, Chief, and Vir steal the thing. Get behind them.”

“Copy that,” replied Cooper with a nod. He looked at the large wall in front of them, then took a step back and jumped. Thrusters on the back of his suit activated and propelled him onto the wall. He turned his head to Quill and Gamora. “You two coming?” Quill scoffed.

“I can do that.” He pressed a small button on the top of his boots, and the heels lit up with the orange wash of jet boosters. Without the grace of Cooper he landed wobbly on the top of the wall. “See? Easy.” Gamora muttered “showoffs” under her breath and accepted Quill’s offered hand to boost her over the wall. Cooper dropped into the interior compound without a sound.

“Right. This way.”

On the Other Side of the Compound

The heavy armored doors opened and mercenaries, in various stages of preparedness, scrambled out, only to be met with the full firepower of one hundred and three well trained soldiers. The Imperials’ lasguns spat crimson death that flickered through the muddy air to impact with chests, legs, arms, and heads, burning away flesh and vaporizing the internal organs of the unprotected. The fire from the Apocalypse’s armsmen was no less lethal. The boom hiss thump of plasma infused ammunition contrasted with the whining crack of lasguns as small blue and purple explosions blew apart the mercenaries. Within seconds, the attacking mercenaries were dead.

“Let’s go!” called Drake as he led his armsmen into the interior. Cain nodded at the Guard.

“Forward. I’ll take up the rear.”

In the Basement

The mercenaries vault, the storage place of the item Drake was contracted to retrieve, stood in silence over the barren concrete room. Harsh yellow lights glared from the walls and seemed to be swallowed by the shadows in the corners. Two guards, weapons held at the ready, stood in front of the vault. The air split with two cracks. The two guards fell, two holes blown through their heads. Master Chief, weapon at the ready, entered the room, searching carefully for any other enemies. There were none. He nodded at his two companions.

“Clear.” He shouldered his rifle. “Now how the hell do we get that door open?” Shepard stepped up to the vault door. A small, rectangular computer was built into the wall. Shepard pressed his forearm, and once more the orange hologram appeared. He tapped the hologram several more times, and the vault door sprang open.

“Impressive,” noted Vir.

“I gotta get me one of those,” muttered Master Chief. They stepped through the circular entrance of the vault, and into the room beyond. The room was...unimpressive. It was cluttered with objects, weapons, and boxes of no discernable value. Master Chief keyed his comm. “Drake? We’re in the vault. What are we looking for?” There was a whine then the boom of a plasma discharge, which culminated into an abrupt, high pitched scream. Drake’s ragged breathing could be heard on the other end of the line.

“What? Sorry. Uh...you’re looking for a black box, about half a meter by half a meter. Should be somewhere pretty prominent.”

“Here it is!” said Vir. He held up a black box of the exact length and width.

“Drake, we have it.” There was a scream and the crackle of Imperial lasgun fire on the other end of the comm. “What is going on up there?”

“We’re fighting the mercenaries…” Boom! Hiss! Crack! “...shit. We appear to be winning at the moment. Get up here and kill or capture anyone who gets in your way.”

“Copy that.” Master Chief looked at Shepard and Vir. “Let’s move.”

Cooper, Quill, and Gamora advanced stealthily through the twisting passages of the mercenaries’ compound, weapons at the ready. For some reason, there was absurdly cheerful music blasting through the PA system. If Cooper had to guess, he would say that Thomas Drake most definitely had a hand in this. He sighed to himself, shaking his head, then abruptly stopped and held out his hand. Gamora instantly stopped and crouched, weapons at the ready. Quill almost ran into him. Ahead of the group were two guards, rifles out, looking more competent than any opposition they’d seen today. Quill raised a gun, but Gamora pushed it down.

“Quiet. If we go loud, they might have time to radio that we’re here.” Quill nodded, magining to look mollified behind the red lenses of his helmet.

“Right. My bad. What do we do?”

“I got this,” replied Cooper. Before either Quill or Gammora could say anything, Cooper tapped a device on his wrist. Immediately, his form shimmered and distorted, turning translucent. He took off running, and both watching pairs of eyes lost track of him. Gammora thought she saw a faint blur of movement at the top of the hall, near the ceiling, but dismissed it as her eyes playing tricks. And, just as they started wondering where Cooper had gone, he appeared just as suddenly and silently as he had appeared, this time directly behind the guards.

Quietly and casually, he stepped behind the first guard, wrapped his arm around the guard’s throat in a chokehold, drew the guard’s sidearm from its holster, and unceremoniously shot both guards through the head. Quick, brutal, efficient. Cooper tossed the pistol aside and hefted his own rifle.

“Let’s keep moving.” Gamora stared at him.

“Impressive. I need one of those things. What are they called?”

“Invisibility Cloak or Pilot’s Cloak. You can get them pretty easily from where I come from. Or you could ask Drake. I’m sure he stole a bunch of them.”

Drake’s plasma gun spat a ball of molten death at an enemy mercenary. It melted through the mercenary’s thin armor, blasted through his bones, and disintegrated his organs. The mercenary only had time for a half scream, half whimper, before his chest was opened all the way through and he dropped to the ground, dead. One of the Imperial Guardsmen whistled appreciatively.

“A real plasma gun. Can’t believe you have one.” Drake grinned beneath his helmet.

“Cost me a pretty penny. But definitely worth it, I can assure you.” His earpiece crackled to life. “Hang on.”

“Drake? Are you behind the music?” asked Quill’s voice.

“Why yes, I am. Do you approve of my selection?” Drake replied.

“Actually, I was wondering...do you take requests?”

“Of course I do! What is your request?”

“Hooked on a Feeling by Blue Swede,” replied Quill with no hesitation.

“An excellent choice! Give me a moment.” Drake pressed another button on his wrist computer and spoke into it with an excellent approximation of a radio D.J.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that has been Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag and Smile, Smile, Smile, an old favorite from the First World War, written by George Henry Powell. And next up, by listener request, is Hooked on a Feeling by Blue Swede! If you would like to place a request, even if you’re on the opposing side, please, feel free to contact me.” He cut the transmission. One of the Valhallans turned to her sergeant.

“This guy’s weird.”

“Eh, could be worse. We could be fighting tyranids. Or necrons,” the sergeant interjected with a shudder.

Master Chief turned to look at the nearest PA speaker.

“Well, this is definitely something new.” He turned to his two companions. “You two don’t seem very surprised by this.”

“Honestly, I am not surprised by anything at this point,” Shepard said with a shrug. He turned to look at Vir. “What about you?”

“Happens to me all the time. What’s a battle without some good music?”

Jack Cooper shook his head incredulously as the song piped throughout the compound.

“I have seen a lot over my time in the Militia, but yet I have never been in a battle more bizarre.” He sighed and fired a burst of shots at a mercenary. “Oh, well.”

The Imperial Guard and the Apocalypse’s armsmen, led by Cain and Drake, sliced their way through the enemies ranks like a knife through wet paper. They stood no chance. Anything not eliminated by lasguns or assault rifles was obliterated by Drake’s plasma gun. Drake was leading the charge, cutting down everyone who opposed him with methodical precision. Drake turned, the eye slits of his helmet winking cerulean blue.

“Well, I think we’ve-” He never had a chance to finish, as a particularly large mercenary barreled past a corner and tackled Drake. Squeezed underneath the larger man, Drake could not get enough leverage to shove him off or hit him hard. The two combatants rolled and grappled with each other, the armsmen and Guardsmen daring not to fire for fear of hitting Drake. The large mercenary grimaced and tried to slip his hands under Drake’s helmet to try and throttle him to death. Drake reached up and placed his left hand on the mercenary's chest.

“Overcharge!” he yelled to the air. A sharp whine filled the air, then the crack of discharging electricity. The mercenary flew backwards, twitched spasmodically for several seconds, then lied still. Drake got up to his feet shakily. “Well, that was a...shocking experience.” Several of the soldiers groaned. “C’mon. Forward!” They ran through the maze of dimly-lit hallways, slaughtering anyone they met, until they got to a large room filled with computers overlooking the passageways of the basement. It looked to be a control room of some sorts, and it was absolutely packed with enemies. They seemed to realize the superiority of the Scoundrel’s firepower, and so, instead of trying to fight them bullet to bullet, they charged.

Cooper, Quill, and Gamora rounded the corner of the hallway at a run. The screeched to a stop when they saw what was happening in the large room in front of them. A massive group of enemy mercenaries were battling it out, hand to hand, with Drake and Cain’s forces.

“Well, we can’t shoot for fear of hitting our own side, so…” Quill trailed off.

“So we take them from behind,” replied Cooper. “You two know how to fight hand to hand?” In response, Gamora drew a sword.

“Well, I guess that’s a yes,” said Cooper. He looked over to see a heavily muscled woman bodily pick up and throw Drake through one of the glass panes overlooking the basement. “Oh boy. Better get in there.” They charged.

Vir, Shepard, and Master Chief emerged from the basement’s tunnels and into a pit-like room overlooked by glass panels. Suddenly, one of the panels shattered and Drake flew through and landed on the concrete floor fifteen feet below. He groaned and slowly got to his feet.

“Oh hey there. Fancy meeting you here.” Master Chief held out a hand to steady him.

“Are you alright?” Drake cracked his neck.

“Maybe. Hopefully. Doesn’t much matter. Let's get up there.”

“If you’re really O.K.”

“Yep, I’m good. What’s the fastest way up?” Shepard pointed to a set of stairs, but before he could say anything, Master Chief took a running leap, grabbed the broken window’s ledge, and hauled himself up.

“Or...or that will work.” Vir shrugged and made the same running jump at the same window. With a whir of powerful prosthetics, he made it in much the same way Master Chief had. Not to be outdone, Drake jumped for the same window. He only made it halfway up the wall, but grips built into his forearms and greaves took over and he hauled himself up. Shepard still stood at the bottom and shook his head.

“Ok then. I guess I’ll just take the stairs.”

The vast majority of the wild melee was focused near the middle of the room. There, the mercenaries desperately fought against the soldiers of the Imperial Guard. The mercenaries had thought to take the enemy off balance by charging them, a tactic seldom used in an age of automatic and plasma weaponry, but had not counted on soldiers of other universes, used to fighting in different ways. The Guardsmen had fixed bayonets, and now wielded the twenty inch blades with lethal efficiency. However, despite the Guard doing most of the fighting, it was by far the Scoundrel captains who garnered the most attention. Each fought with their own style, was a death-dealing whirlwind.

Master Chief fought with a precision that only a genetically enhanced super-soldier could. A strange, teardrop-shaped plasma sword was held aloft in one hand, and he brought it down with murderous exactness. Each stroke was backed by the massive strength of his seven foot frame, and gut through armor and bone as if it didn’t exist. He was a one man killing machine; he was a SPARTAN super-warrior. None stood in his way for long.

Ciaphas Cain used the same practical and lethal fighting style as he did in his duel with the Drev. His chainsword hummed and its teeth whirred as it cut through muscle and sinew, raising great gouts of blood into the air. In his other hand he held a laspistol, which cracked off shots at any who were beyond the reach of the deadly teeth of his sword.

Jack Cooper fought with grace and style. He danced around the enemy, using the extra speed and mobility of his Pilot’s suit. His combat knife slid between ribs and through throats, and shots from his sidearm rang out, blowing ragged holes through heads and torsos. His legs lashed out in the form of powerful kicks, still with a Pilot's grace, and landed on kidneys and knees, knocking his opponents to the ground where he finished them at his leisure.

Adam Vir fought with a spear, a most unusual weapon of choice. Nevertheless, he was just as deadly as the rest. The spear sand through the air, catching and impaling his foes. It twirled in intricate patterns, and blocked and flicked aside incoming attacks as if they didn’t exist. He lunged forward towards a panacing mercenary, twisting the spear at the last second so as not to get it stuck in the suction of flesh, then spun around to block an incoming attack.

Thomas Drake fought dirty. No trick was too low or underhanded. His left hand crackled with electricity, stunning and killing any he punched. A keen-bladed knife was in his right, and he stabbed groins, gouged eyes, and slit throats with impunity. He bellowed reactive insults while he fought, calling in to question his opponent’s lineage and stature as he charged and hacked and stabbed.

And Quill...well...he entered the room at a run, then promptly slipped on a puddle of blood and fell face first into the cold concrete floor.

The Scoundrels gradually whittled down their enemies, one by one, until there was only a small group, fear in their eyes, huddling against the back wall. The Scoundrels advanced, weapons drawn, and the mercenaries raised their own, prepared for one last defiant gesture. Then, the air shimmered and distorted, and Kirk and a group of Enterprise crewmen, weapons drawn, appeared as if from nowhere.

“Hands up,” said Kirk with probably more amusement than was really necessary. Slowly, the mercenaries lowered their weapons and put them on the ground. The Scoundrels looked at each other for a moment before Cooper broke the silence.

“Okay. That was...underwhelming.”

“What do we do with them?” asked Shepard, gesturing towards the prisoners.

“Eh. I say we just leave ‘em here,” said Drake with a shrug. The others stared at him with incredulity.

“Wait, wait...you were the one advocating orbital bombardment earlier!”

“Well, we have the thing now. No need to kill them, no need to do anything with them really. We can just pack up and go. Leave them here.” The Scoundrels looked at each other and seemed to reach an agreement.

“Fine. Let’s go.” Kirk looked over to Spock and spoke to him in an undertone.

“You know, this didn’t end that badly. None of the redshirts died!” As if on cue, one of the Enterprise’s crewmen, clad in black pants and a red shirt, fell over clutching his chest. One of the Imperial Guardsmen knelt down to check on him.

“He’s dead, sir! I think a heart attack.” Kirk shook his head.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

After the mercenaries had been herded in the basement and the Scoundrels’ forces were trailing out of the compound, Cain pulled Drake aside.

“Drake, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Of course. What’s on your mind?” Cain looked around to make sure no one was listening.

“Those weapons. The only way you could have gotten several of them was if you stole them from the Inquisition.”

“And if I did?” replied Drake.

“The Inquisition is not an organization you want to steal from.” Cain loosened his chainsword in its scabbard. Drake smiled.

“Funny, actually. I can. You see, those weapons I found in a small hidden stash. Apparently, a rogue and very dead Inquisitor named Filidarus Calzik had hidden them on the very edge of Imperial space. No one would have ever gone for them, no Imperial would have ever found them.”

“I know of them, now that you’ve told me,” replied Cain, his hands still on his weapons. Drake laughed, the exact same laugh as when he told the Scoundrels he knew their secrets aboard the Apocalypse.

“Interestingly enough, weapons were not the only thing I found in that stash. There was also a computer. Which is why I know Calzik’s name. And, on that computer, was...an incomplete manuscript. An...autobiography.” Drake smiled again. “Your autobiography, my dear Cain.” Cain turned a shade of chalk white. “Now, consider, if you will, my dear Cain, the fascinating consequences if the contents of that autobiography were to be released to the wider Imperium. So, yes, I’m quite sure I can get away with stealing from the Inquisition. Because, no one will ever know anything is missing. And if they do, they’ll never know it was me, because everyone who knows it was me will not be saying anything about it, now will they?” With a final parting smile, Drake spun on his heel and strode away, leaving Cain in the semi-darkness of the compound’s hallway.

That’s it. Hope you like it. As per always, feel free to contact me with any complaints, concerns, compliments, questions, requests, or if you just want something cleared up.

#magnificent scoundrels #warhammer 40k #empyrean iris #halo #mass effect #star trek #titanfall 2 #guardians of the galaxy #crossover #story

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