#SIR!!!!!!! i would only move back if it was a financial emergency. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sibillascribbles08 · 10 months ago

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Wanted to do some sappy nonsense so here's some jasonnie but like, when they become parents.

“That’s everything. That’s everything, right?” Jason paced back and forth on his side of the head office. “Howard, did I miss anything?”

“Umm.” One of the yōkai’s long ears twitched as he looked at the tablet in his smaller pair of hands. “No meetings with interested investors or new partners. Holly Blue handles all financial meetings. The engineer managers are in charge of any new tech presentations. Only Holly Blue can contact either you or Donatello with an emergency for the next few weeks. Is that all of it?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” He sighed and finally collapsed in his desk chair. “We’ve never had Donnie and I both out for this long before.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Howard clicked the two massive teeth of his lower jaw together. “Almost all of us have been working here for a while now, sir. We know how to keep the place from catching fire, so to speak.”

“I know.” Jason's hands moved under his glasses to press against his eyes. “I’m just so stressed on top of all this. I mean what if…” He didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to speak it into being.

That after months and months of trying to successfully bring a kid into the world, this attempt that was only days away from success could still result in failure.

Jason tried to keep that thought as far away as possible. Because he knew as devastated as he would be if that happened, Donnie would be even more so. He already fell apart more than once just trying to get an egg to last more than a day. The amount of failures stacked up to a staggering amount, to the point Jason didn’t even have the stomach to scroll through the data.

But Donnie did. He pushed through it because he didn’t want to give up. And with this so close, if it fell apart…

Jason thought about the night where all he could do was cradle the turtle’s head against his chest as he sobbed until he passed out. Jase didn’t want to imagine it being worse than that.

He was so excited but so terrified and both feelings combined together made it feel like his heart wanted to rattle its way right out of his chest.

“Apologies,” Howard’s voice distracted him. “Do you need a moment? I can come back later to further discuss—”

Jason’s phone buzzed on the desk once, then again. Not consistent enough to be a call, it must be a text. It did it twice more as he picked it up.

He looked at the notifications to see the texts from his husband, going from the first to the latest.

>JASE >EGG >HAT CH >HATCHING >LAB

Jason’s eyes went wide and his heart stopped. He kept staring at the text on the screen, knowing what it said, but his brain wouldn’t connect with the rest of his body.

“Sir?” Once again Howard broke him out of that trance.

He shot up in an instant, almost knocking his swivel chair over in the process. “Lab!” He shouted and sprinted for the door. “Egg! Hatch!”

“What?” Howard’s ears went straight up. “She’s hatching?”

Shit, right, they were in the middle of a meeting. Jason turned back around. “Look, after this we can talk again and go over—”

“Don’t be worrying about that!” Howard shrieked and pointed to the doorway. “Get down to the lab!”

“Right, right,” Jason took off for the elevator. He sometimes questioned his husband's desire to install ones that moved so fast, but in this instance he was so grateful for it. Even if the ten seconds to get from the upper floors to the basement still felt impossibly long.

He ran out of the elevator the second the doors opened wide enough and went for the main lab door. He practically tripped over his own feet trying to get inside, but didn’t stop. Donnie stood next to the incubation table, and their gaze met in an instant.

“Did I miss it?” Jason gasped for air and headed over.

Donnie ran up to meet him, grabbing his arm. “No, no, come here. Look!”

Jason let his husband practically drag him across the floor, truthfully it was faster. They both skidded to a halt in front of the table and Jason didn’t hesitate to press his face against the glass container.

The egg in question was more oblong than round, evidently it yielded better results over time, but it still was never as big as Jason expected. He always imagined their kid coming into the world the size of a newborn human, but maybe their bundle of genetics didn’t want to turn out that way.

The egg moved, only shifting slightly within the thermal blankets surrounding it. The heat lamp above it made the shell almost glow, but the cracks along the edge were still visible.

“Our daughter’s in there.” Jason mumbled.

Donnie wrapped his arms around him and rested his chin on Jase’s head. “Yeah.”

He knew that. He’d seen it before, the many times Donnie would run a scan to check on things. Once his husband even joked about them being akin to ultrasound pictures. But this time…

“She’s actually moving.”

Donnie tightened his grip. “Yeah.”

Jason wished he could just press himself through the glass. “Donnie, this wait is going to kill me.”

His husband laughed, the motion vibrating through both of them. “I know, Jase.”

“I want to reach in there and get rid of the rest of the eggshell.”

“Well we can’t, it wouldn’t be good for her.”

After all that staring, the shell only lifted slightly further than it had earlier.

Jason dug his nails into the glass. “Going to go insane.”

“How do you think I feel?” Donnie lifted him up and pulled him back. “Come on, we can take a minute to set up a chair. We might be here for a bit.”

Jason let Donnie be the one to grab one of the comfy lounge chairs from the break area while he grabbed a couple of pillows and some waters. They put the chair as close to the table as it could get, and Jase let his husband sit down before curling up on his lap.

They both stared, no longer able to see the fine details but close enough to watch her move. Jase grabbed the waters so they could stay hydrated but, truthfully, neither of them looked away long enough to do so.

Still, the silence quickly became unbearable. “Do you still want to name her Holly?”

Donnie held one of his hands, gently playing with his fingers. “Yeah, if that’s alright with you.”

“Sure, did you ask Holly Blue?”

“Ah, I might have wanted to keep it a surprise. I hope she doesn’t mind.”

“I doubt she would.” Jason dared to look away from the egg for a moment to study his husband’s face.

Donnie’s eyes were still glued on the glass, jaw tense. Jason reached up with his free hand to run his fingers along it. His husband glanced at him but only for a second. Then the tension left his face.

“It’s not setting in, is it? That we’re going to be dads” Jason asked.

Donnie chuckled, though he almost looked frightened. “Well, that’s only one thing I mean, you know, getting out of there could take way too much energy. What if she—”

Jason sat up so he could hold his husband’s face with both hands. “Hey. She’s made it this far. She’s going to be fine, okay?”

“But we don’t know that.”

He tightened his grip. “Donnie, we are not going to doom spiral this. I can’t believe I have to be the one to say that in this situation. Doom spiraling is my job. Anyway, you can’t just sit there and picture the worst case scenario. We just have to let it play out.”

Donnie glanced away. “And what if it does go wrong?”

“Then we’ll handle it together.” Jason tugged himself even closer to kiss his husband on the corner of his mouth.

Donnie wrapped his arms around him and buried his nose against Jason’s neck, taking a deep breath. “Right as always, Love.”

“Yeah, well—”

A crack loud enough to interrupt the conversation came from the container. The conversation was immediately forgotten. Donnie stood up in an instant, still holding onto Jase, and brought them both closer to the container.

Part of the shell was actually lifting! Then dropping, then lifting up again farther and farther each time.

Then it suddenly fell when a tiny hand shoved itself out, at first clenched into a fist before flexing the fingers.

Jason couldn’t help but laugh at the image of it. “Man, she really wants out of there.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Donnie chuckled as well. “But Jase, Jase! She has four fingers!”

Did she? Jason leaned in more to get a better look because the hand was so small—she was so small—and finally counted all the digits.

He didn’t even get the time to marvel over it. Another massive crack split across the shell, and then suddenly she came tumbling out onto the plush towel that sat at the bottom of the container.

Jason gasped. There she was. His daughter, their daughter, barely pushing herself up and trying to wipe the remaining gunk off her face. A softshell like her dad, no surprise there, but her plastron didn’t cover her stomach.

Jason practically flung himself out of Donnie’s grip. “Donnie can we—” He stopped speaking when he realized how much his voice was shaking, but tried again anyway. “Can we—”

“I know, I know.” Donnie laughed, in a way that indicated he had too many emotions in his chest for him to deal with. But with his hands free he could type on the monitor and unlock the container.

The glass lifted and the second it got high enough Jason reached toward her. But then he froze, hands hovering right next to her. “Can I… I mean, would it hurt her?”

“No, no, just be gentle, obviously.”

Jason still didn’t scoop her up in an instant. He brought his hands close enough to bump into her. Only then did she blink her tiny eyes open. She reached out and touched his palm, and after a couple of seconds she leaned against it.

The adorableness of it all made him want to scream, but he didn’t want to frighten her. He just let out a high pitched squeak before finally tilting his hand to let her lay flat on his hand and pulling her toward his chest.

She was so small. Only with her in his hands was it fully sinking in. He could rest her in one palm if he wanted to but he used both hands to give her some more support.

The emotions in his chest were too overwhelming. Tears blurred his vision and all he could do was try to blink them away because damn it, he couldn’t see. They were getting in the way.

Donnie’s chin rested on his shoulder—he must be kneeling on the floor. “You okay?”

Jason took a deep breath to steady his voice. “She’s so small, Donnie.”

His husband laughed but his voice cracked as he did. “I know. I know. Can you imagine how small she’s going to look in my hands?”

“I don’t think I could handle that right now. I…” He just realized his legs felt weaker and weaker by the second. “I need to sit down.”

Donnie’s arms wrapped around his middle and gently tugged him back so Jase sat on his lap. The turtle’s head still rested on his shoulder.

Jason just stared. It was still barely sinking in. Holly sat in his hands and he still couldn’t wrap his head around it. He’s a father. His daughter is sitting in his hands, curling up to try and stay warm no doubt. He dared to bring her closer to his face and only then noticed the very tiny black strands on the top of her head.

“She has hair.” Jason whispered.

“Wh—” Donnie started shouting and then snapped his mouth shut. “What?” He whispered this time.

Jason moved her closer to Donnie’s face and smiled when he heard his husband’s delighted squeak.

“Hah, I knew she had more of your genes than you thought.”

Jason leaned back, relaxing against his husband’s chest. He watched Holly roll over, watched her breathe, as long as she kept breathing that was a good sign.

“We should probably let everyone know she’s here,” Donnie said.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed. “But I don’t want to move right now. I don’t want to put her down.”

Donnie held up a hand. “May I?”

Jason very carefully and very delicately rested his hands over Donnie’s before letting Holly slide off his palms and onto his husband’s.

The baby softshell stirred, blinking a few times and even pushing herself up to look around.

God, she looked even smaller. She didn’t even fill up Donnie’s palm. Tears burned at his eyes again but this time he could wipe it away.

The tiniest noise came out of her mouth, the faintest of squeaks. Jason had to grab his shirt and pull it up over his mouth to scream into it. He glanced at Donnie to see his husband practically doing the same thing.

But then she did it again, and again, reaching out for something.

Jason frowned. Was she hungry? He carefully picked her back up, and in a matter of seconds she curled up again, silent.

“Ah, you’re warm.” Donnie tilted his head as he smiled. “Or warmer, anyway. Now I’m just jealous.”

Jason turned so he could lean his side against Donnie’s chest instead. “Just put your hand under mine then.”

His husband did, and then Jason lowered them so they rested against his legs.

For the next hour all they did was watch her sleep while Jason kept trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was a dad now.

—-------------------------

Jason’s hands had never felt so empty.

For the right reasons, of course. Holly eventually woke up, making those faint squeaks. Donnie said it’d be wise to make sure she drank something. Jason helped get her some water. Thankfully they wouldn’t have to do something like syringe feed her, but he did almost panic when she shoved her face into the water dish. Thankfully just an awkward first attempt, she got the hang of it pretty quick.

After that, Donnie decided to inform his family with a video call. He suggested Jason let his father know too, but so far he hadn’t managed to pull his phone out. Part of this still didn’t feel real. Like he was just experiencing a blissful dream and soon enough he’d wake up.

But eventually he got sick of his empty hands, so he pulled out his phone.

It did take a few rings for an answer, and his father sounded out of breath. “Jase? Is this super important?” The man laughed. “Me and um, the partners were just…”

Jason blinked. “Are your pants off yet?”

“Well I’m wearing a skirt so—”

“Right. Well, I don’t know. I’ll let you decide if it’s important that I inform you that you’re a grandfather now.”

The silence that followed made him smile. He could easily picture the utter shock on his dad’s face.

“Huh?” The question came out so high pitched that the man had to clear his throat. “Come again?”

“I’d love to.” Manny shouted in the background. “But I have yet to do it the first time.”

Jason burst out laughing.

“Manny! Don’t interrupt!” His father yelled back. “Jase. Jase. Are you serious? She’s here?”

He kept smiling, so wide that his cheeks hurt. “Yeah, she is. Her name is Holly.”

“Holly! Of course it is.” His voice got a bit more muffled, probably turning away from the speaker. “Guys, we’re grandparents!”

“What?” Angie’s voice shrieked. “Jae you ass, put him on speaker!”

His father turned back to the phone. “Is she there right now? Can we see her?”

“Donnie’s showing her off to his family, but I can text you photos.” Jason rubbed his cheeks. “Am I actually on speaker?”

“Yes,” Manny answered.

Now his cheeks tingled from embarrassment rather than numbness. “Right, well, uh, I wanted to also say that…” His hand moved from his face to the collar of his button up, tugging on the material. “I get it now.”

“Get what?” His father asked.

Ugh, did he really have to say this in front of Manny and Angie? But it’d just be rude to shut them out at this point. “Do you remember that talk we had after I moved back in with you? And you told me that when I was born you um… you know, how you felt at the time?”

“Yes?”

“Yeah, I get it now.” Jason tugged his knees closer. “I couldn’t wrap my head around how holding an infant in your hands could shift your perspective, but I get it now.”

Angie let out an “aw,” before it got interrupted by someone.

“You alright, kiddo?” His father wound up asking.

“I mean, yeah.” He tilted his head back against the chair. “Like, I don’t feel bad or anything. Just very, very overwhelmed.”

Jae-Won laughed. “Yeah, I felt that too. And do you want me to tell you a secret?”

“What?”

“That feeling you get every time you look at her? It’s never going to go away.”

“Huh?” Jason almost shouted into the phone. “How the heck do you deal with it then?”

His father kept laughing. “Let me finish. It’s not going to go away. What happens is that you just grow around it, and it becomes your new normal, and maybe sometimes you’ll be so used to it that you’ll forget it’s there, but other times you’ll be reminded.” He paused for a second. “I’m really proud of you, kiddo. Welcome to fatherhood.”

Jason sighed and pretended he wasn’t smiling again. “Thanks.”

“Now hurry up and send pictures!”

“Yeah!” Angie shouted in agreement.

“Okay, okay.” Jason put his own phone on speaker as he moved to his gallery. “You guys are not going to believe how small she is.”

“What?” His father said. “You mean she’s not—Oh my god!”

Jason kept laughing at their collective screams of shock followed by squeals of adoration, to the point tears burned in his eyes again.

He hoped Donnie came back soon. He wanted to hold Holly again and tell her he loved her over and over until she understood what the words meant.

No matter how long that took.

#scribbly fics #jasonnie #rottmnt

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

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earned it [02]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. mentions of murder, suggestive content, unedited fic

notes. err, i’m only doing this on impulse. i would like to continue it, but i think part one stands enough for itself :> i might delete this if i don’t like it a few days later lollll

series masterlist

Your infamous customer hadn’t arrived even as the restaurant closed. You watched close enough, fidgety in your movements and often bumping into other servers, all because your gaze kept darting back to the front door, awaiting his presence.

There’s no actual reason why you want to see him. Maybe it’s because he left an impression? The guy didn’t even budge after finding out someone had snuck into the kitchen to poison him, leaving you to wonder why anyone wanted to kill him. Not that it was any of your business, but you figured it was only common between powerful people who are equally greedy. Still, you’re unfocussed in your work, apologizing every now and then when your boss shook their head at you.

Thankfully, you managed to get back to your old pace. Thoughts of the white-haired tall man left the room at the same time everyone did, leaving only you and your boss in the locker room. You ended up working two shifts again on this weekend, your co-worker asking you to cover for them due to sudden family issues.

It’s tiring, that much is for sure, but you won’t complain when it’s more money down in your pocket. You’re dazzled, however, as you leave the locker room and see that your main chefs are still there.

Upon seeing you, they immediately usher you into a lone table, table 98 that remained untouched the whole night, a two lit candles illuminating the otherwise darkness of the isolated restaurant. Only this time, it’s occupied by him no less, his azure eyes flittering up to yours at the sound of your hesitant footsteps.

You’ve been looking for him the whole night, yet now that he’s in front of you, you don’t have any words to say. Instead, you bow down deep, the hands clasped in your lap shaking.

“S-Sir.”

“No need to be so nervous. I only wish to discuss something with you,” his laugh is so carefree, lighthearted as he gestures to the empty spot across him. “Take a seat,” Wordlessly, you foolow his orders and dash down to the seat, spine straight and head held high. There’s a hint of amusement in his small smile, but he doesn’t tease you, save for the lilting tone he held. “So you’re in sophomore year of university?”

“Yes, Sir. How’d you know?” You furrowed your brows, unsure of whether you’re supposed to expensive meal served in two.

Gosh, and this was on page three too, a single meal cost at least six months’ worth of rent.

“I pulled a string or two,” he lifts one shoulder lazily, waving his knife in the air. “And please, call me Satoru. Assuming we come to an understanding, things will go well for the both of us. You are in need of financial aid, yes?” You nod, utterly clueless in where this is leading, but Satoru’s already made up his mind long before he came here that he found no need in beating around the bush.

“Good. Then what do you say about being my sugar baby?”

“S-sugar baby?” you repeat the word first in confusion, then with distaste. He simply hums around the meat he’s eating, as if it’s a normal occurrence for him to inquire such things, and you scoff, crossing your arms on your chest.

You don’t care that this guy is your precious customer – he was just the same as everyone else.

“Is that the reason why you asked me to stay behind? Do you think you can just pay people to sleep with you? It may have worked on others, but not to me. I would rather keep my dignity than be with you,” you breathe hard after your rant, slapping your palms down on the table. The impact of it makes the table shake, his hand reflexively reaching to steady his wine glass. “As for what happened yesterday, you don’t have to thank me about it. I did what any right-minded person would.”

“And if I said I never wanted to be saved?” he asks, his tone still so calm that it further infuriates you. You stare at him, stunned and mouth gaping. “Sit down. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Thank you for graciousness, Sir, but I really don’t—”

“Angel,” You freeze at the nickname. He chuckles with his forehead pressed to his clasped hands, “Do you really think I need to pay people to sleep with me? I could have anyone I want,” his voice falls an octave or two, the sonorous warning rumbling something…alien inside your body. You stand there, unable to move, and he easily sees through this as he hides a smirk behind his drink. “Sit down. I’m not done talking to you.”

You don’t know what snapped in you to actually follow, but his words weren’t just that. They were always laced with eased dominance, the words leaving his lips coming out as a command. No, it was more like a hypnotizing order, and you’re nothing but a puppet enslaved by it.

His smile only grows bigger, and you hate that he looks ridiculously handsome under the dim lights of the room. Life would’ve been much easier if this man had been ugly.

“As I was saying, this relationship should be casual, no strings attached. I’d prefer if you’re exclusive to me, and in return, I’ll cover all your school fees and everything else. As for the sex,” he cuts his eyes straight to yours, an intense burning heat in them. You squirm in your seat, a little intimidated, albeit excited, by this proposition too, though you’d rather die than let him know that, “I don’t need that from you. I just want someone to talk to.”

“You’re paying me to talk to you?”

“No,” he chuckles, “I’m saying you form a relationship with me in exchange of financial aid. You’d be similar to a lover, nothing less of a friend,” he stares at his drink so hard like he was having a debate with it. A few seconds later, he found his answer, the gleam in his eyes surreptitious as he says, “Someone I can trust.”

You huff. Surely it wasn’t easy as that. “Why me?”

“No reason,” he shrugged, “I just find you endearing, that is all,” You lean back on your seat, trying to process all this. The hesitance must be written all over your face because he adjusts his tie, sliding a white business card your way before sliding his chair back in. At least he’s well-mannered enough to do that. “You can take your time to think about it. There’s no need to rush.”

Somehow, seeing his figure retreat triggers something within you. You watch as silhouettes emerge from the darkness trail after him; must be his security team, serving as an additional note that what you so struggled to achieve was likely nothing for him.

Was it fear? Desperation? Shame?

You don’t know, you won’t ever really know, but you run up to him anyway, brave enough to tug at his sleeve. The guards surrounding him tense up at the contact, stepping away only when he raises a finger that spoke a thousand words.

“You-you’ll pay for everything?”

With his back turned to you, you failed to see that victorious grin he wore. “And everything more,” he reassured. He turns around to confirm your submission, but you’re quivering under his towering frame, poor hands clutched around the card so tightly he won’t be surprised if you break it. He chuckles, coaxing the worries out of you as he caresses your cheek, his breath evident of expensive liquor hitting your cheeks. “Relax, angel. It’s not like you’re selling your soul to the devil.”

Your pupils blow wide at the close proximity. If he was attractive before, it’s nothing compared to the clarity of his sharp, angular features that are softened by his playful smile. Oddly enough, his thumb caressing your cheeks is tender yet calloused.

There’s no telling when who put who under a spell, because you’re clutching helplessly at his suit jacket, whispering, “Am I not?”

You are, he wants to say, but you’re so innocent, so vulnerable – such an angel, he can’t help but hum in his head – that he doesn’t have the heart to let you know. He already knew things were bound to fall out of place one another, but until that hasn’t happened yet, he’ll have to keep you close. He’ll make you his.

“I’ll take good care of you,” he declares so confidently that you couldn’t even question his capability to do so you, and for a moment, just a moment, your knees weaken under his stare. “Now that, I can promise.”

Should you have pulled away then? When he leaned down to seal the contract with a kiss, should you have pulled away then? Or better yet, could you even pull away then?

You’ve been so alone your whole life that each moment with him is awakening, soul-crushing, mind-shattering and so damn weakening that you should’ve pulled away then. If anyone were to tell you you’d share your first kiss after work hours with a man whose name you don’t even know of, you’d tell them they were crazy, crazier if they claimed you would enjoy it.

But you did. Oh, you did, you were addicted to him – his taste, his scent, his touch, everything about him – that when he pulled away, taking away every last breath in your lung that formerly remained taint-free by him, you’re left wanting. Craving.

And he knows this. How could he not? Your eyes are hazy with lust, chest pressed against his firm ones that would soon be the same body you found home over and over again. You’re not the only left intoxicated from this sudden agreement. Whatever you feel, he feels it twice as much after years of watching you from the sidelines, asking himself a million times over what it is about you that pulled him in so much in the first place.

The innocence? The dedication? The youthful naivety?

Gojo wants to laugh at himself. It was never any of those – he simply wanted to fool himself that maybe he’s worthy of this, of your love, of your purity. He’s selfish, manipulative, heartless, and he wants nothing more than someone like you to make him feel like he’s everything he’s not.

He steps forward to brush his nose against yours; breathing in the tiny gasps you reward him with. And he’s barely even touched you.

“I look forward to our next meeting,” he rasps, butterfly touches all the way down your back to hold you flush against him, letting you feel that he’s all muscle and hardness, while you’re the complete opposite, composed of softness and little ghosting kisses. Perhaps when he gives you by a name, he was right to call you – “My Angel.”

The loud blaring of your alarm cuts through the silence of the room, its shrill sound piercing your ears. You groan, blindly patting the bedside table to swipe snooze. The spot next to you has been cold for a while now, but it’s normal for Satoru to leave early for work that you burrow yourself deeper in the covers. Five more minutes of sleep shouldn’t be so bad; it’s the weekend, anyway. You’ve got nothing else to do.

Waking up after that, on the other hand, now that is an impending task on itself.

You’re beyond sore, your inner thighs littered with handprints and your shoulder covered in love bites. “Jeez,” you mutter to yourself, stepping out of the bathroom. Tying your robe around you, you go out your shared bedroom, rubbing your eyes to get the sleep out.

It’s past noon already – Satoru really wore you out. And fuck, you could barely walk. You had to grip the counters just to sit on the stools, and even then, you’re wincing from the pain.

He should be doing paperwork in his office right now or something; he never really told you what to do. You don’t feel like asking either since he’s made it clear he prefers to keep his personal life, well…personal. But nevertheless, you swing your legs back and forth on the stool, texting him a quick I love you baby :)

Satoru doesn’t reply.

Usually, he’d respond in a few minutes, always supplied with a wink and an eggplant emoji. It was so him to act this way, that when those few minutes turned into a few hours and you’re met with radio silence, you can’t help but worry.

You try to brush it off, ignoring the deafening silence that rings all over his penthouse. He’s busy, he’s working, he’s got things to do – that’s all it is.

You convince yourself hard enough that you’ve cleaned the place until it’s sparkling, your reflection bouncing off the black marble floors. Every minute, though, your mind would race back to him. Not thinking about him proved to be a really daunting task because you think of him when you’re eating, reminiscing the way he’d always surprise you with a back hug, muttering morning angel all over your skin just to distract you from your meal. You think of him as you’re killing time with boring dramas; if he was here, he’d nudge your leg with his foot, pushing your shorts until it exposes your panties. He’d make sure you don’t get to focus at all, riling you up and kissing you hard that the show playing becomes nothing but background noise. You think of him, you dream of him, you remember him – and yet, you can’t feel him.

Nails bitten down to the skin, you scramble for your phone, swiping call over his contact. It doesn’t go through. Now that’s another odd thing; Satoru never fails to pick up your calls.

“He’s just busy,” you lie to yourself, telling the same thing over and over again even as night falls and you’re staring at the empty left side of the bed, hands smoothing over where the curve of his body would’ve been. “He’s just busy,” you say once more, giving into the exhaustion brought on by your worries. “He’ll come home soon. He always will.”

Except he didn’t.

And that was two weeks ago.

“Angel, I got you—” Satoru immediately clamps his shut, his footsteps muted as he walks closer to you. You’ve been dating for a few months now, and you’re still very wary of the nature of your relationship so you refuse to move in with him. He doesn’t mind, he respects your space and decisions, but now he’s starting to regret letting you have your way. You’re hunched over your swiveling chair, cheek pressed against the opened textbook and glasses perched on your hair. The lamp desk illuminates the dark circles lining your eyes, his heart breaking at the sight.

Thanks to his help, you’ve been able to spend more time focusing on your studies. It should be comforting, but Satoru’s heart aches as he thinks of what you’ve been like prior to meeting him.

How long have you stayed up all night just to pass your exams? How long have you cried yourself to sleep, unable to handle the burden placed by the world on your shoulders at such a young age? How long have you had to turn down friends’ invites to parties with a forced smile because you had to go to work? How many times have you stared at a failing mark, teeth clenched because you studied well for it; your exhaustion just got the best of you and muddled your brain?

Satoru places the beer and dinner he’s got you on his way back home on top of your one-man dining table, pressing a kiss at the top of your head. You look so beautiful this way – unaware, unknowing, and focused in nothing but the future ahead of you that you don’t bother yourself with his past.

Perhaps…it was comforting, after all.

He’d rather have you worry over your own studies than worry about him. Satoru can’t stomach the idea of you – his precious angel – being involved in his own shit, possibly get caught between the crossfire. It pains him to say it, but he doesn’t want you getting too close for comfort.

So he stays there by your side, simply because it would expel all ideas of you wanting to be beside him. He’ll be right where you’re safe, and the sigh that leaves your lips when he moves you to your bed, fitting in his long, lanky bed on your cramped mattress an immense struggle. As if feeling that you’re finally home, you snuggle closer to his chest, murmuring sweet nothings that tug at his heartstrings.

Satoru rubs circles at your back, staring so hard at the chipped paint on your wall that he’s sure he’s got it burned in his memory.

Now that he thinks about it, he should’ve been satisfied with that. He should’ve held back in his desire to have more of you. He should’ve just tucked you in and left, but he was never really in control of himself. Before he knew it, he’s pulled in by you too much, encouraging him to move in with you under the lie it’s easier to keep an eye on you.

Had he just left you earlier…would things have been different then?

He’s asked himself this question too many times. Satoru always came to one conclusion. He loved you way too much that it consumed him, and soon the love he held for you slowly burned you inch by inch. The only way to save you was to pull away – but he wasn’t ready for that yet, not now – but he’s too scared, too deep in love that he ignores the warning signals and holds you close instead, finding comfort in the warmth of your arms.

Fuck. Satoru downs his second drink, glaring at everyone beneath his shades. Geto snickers beside him, sending side eyes to his boss every now and then just to check. Of course, Satoru’s not actually going to pass out, he was no lightweight, but he’d been uneasy every since that pretentious gold envelope landed on his desk.

One of the downsides of being a mafia leader meant you had to mingle with other clan shit, including him of all people. There were always new leaders popping out of nowhere, Satoru quote unquoting, criminals be spawning like maniacs.

For fourteen years – fourteen fucking years – his clan had been in bad blood with the Zen’ins. They were pretty new in the illegal side of business, starting off as a powerful name in the trade industry before they got interested in oil. One thing led to another, the family began to realize they could have so much more if they turned a blind eye to a law or to, soon shifting into illegal weaponry trade, human trafficking, then drug manufacturing.

These bastards had the audacity to insult the Gojo Clan when Satoru’s family dropped by to strike a contract out of curiosity to their goods, only to be turned down because they’re ‘barbaric’ and ‘informal.’

Satoru still remembers that humiliating moment of being escorted out by bodyguards, but he held his head high, vowing to show that bastard Zen’in guy that the Gojo’s were one of the powerhouses for a reason. He doesn’t even know where the elderly guy got his confidence from. Mafia business was not the same as their former expertise, yet they acted all high and mighty with their rules and standard of being sophisticated even in a life or death situation.

Gojo doesn’t know whether he should be happy or sad that the old man died, his son taking over just as soon as his father perished. He would’ve celebrated with a whiskey or two, except the new clan leader was quite adamant in cleaning up their name to prove he would not create the same mistake his father did.

The new leader threw a large cruise party, inviting pretty much everyone they were chummy with, and Satoru has never felt more out of place. He recognized a face or two, but he couldn’t really give a fuck. He hated events like this – it was all about establishing power and face.

Satoru groaned under his breath, swiping at another flute as a waiter passed by. He felt the bubbles fizzle down his throat, the slight burning sensation somewhat easing his nerves.

He leans back at the wall and checks his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. It’s been two fucking hours since they arrived, and the host still hadn’t arrived. If they planned on being ‘fashionably late’ Satoru won’t hesitate to slice someone’s neck tonight. He hates his time being wasted the most, and his eyes slid over to his friend’s still posture, looking like he just saw a ghost.

“Suguru,” he sighs through his mouth, “Don’t be so tense. This is a formal event – no blood will be shed tonight.” Suguru had a weird skill of being able to read Satoru’s thoughts that he raised his hands in surrender, silently promising that he’s not going to kill anyone.

“You’re not sure of that.”

“I won’t lose my composure, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he rolls his eyes, not looking back as he effortlessly places the empty glass back to another waiter. Satoru stands next to his friend, sucking his teeth out of boredom. Suguru, on the other hand, is tenser than ever, his eyes locked onto something in the middle of the crowd that began to cheer.

Faintly, somewhere at the back of his mind, Satoru hears someone whistle in signal. A few seconds later, the fireworks are lit and decorate the night sky, bursts of gold and beauty accompanying the entrance of the woman who’s so effortlessly caught everyone’s eye tonight.

Satoru is rooted to his spot, taking off his glasses the same time the crowd parts. Then, his breath is knocked away from his body, his heart pumping so hard he actually struggled to breathe.

Because you’re there, smiling and waving at the crowd as if it’s second nature to you. Seven years of being apart from one another and Satoru is still bewitched each time he lays his eyes on you. You’re the same…from your face down to the angelic feeling you always carried, but at the same time, you’re different. Gone was his precious angel who shied away from too much attention, his precious angel who would’ve never worn such a bodacious ring embedded on her left ring finger. Your smile is more charismatic, confident, and even fierce compared to the small, private ones you always shared with him – he almost couldn’t recognize you.

As if feeling someone’s eyes on you, you spot him leaning languidly against the walls, those lips you used to kiss turned downwards.

Seven years ago, you would’ve kissed him until he smiles again, singing to your pouty and clingy boyfriend who never voiced out the reason of his troubles. Seven years ago, he would’ve carried you and swung you around, showering you with affection as he reminds you how lucky he is to have you.

But this was no longer the past – that much is clear from when he left you without another word.

Still, you smile at him, an empty one that showed nothing but concealed anger. He was sure though, so fucking sure, that for a split second, he saw you light up. That may have been seven years ago, but you loved each other to the point of insanity – surely you still held some sort of fondness of him.

Satoru takes long, self-assured stride towards you, his gaze never leaving yours with his hands tucked into his pockets. There’s no telling what he’ll do, but in his mind, it’s clear.

You still love him, he still loves you. He’ll do something about it. It doesn’t matter what, he just will. That was until a young man closer to your age with blond hair and pierced earrings, narrow feline eyes lined with eyeliner hobbles beside you, his weight supported by a cane that Satoru stops in his movements.

He’d recognize that face anywhere.

The youngest and perhaps most mischievous leader of them all, Naoya Zen’in. Albeit not as hard-headed as his father in comparison with his rather laid-back and welcoming nature, Satoru knows a monster when he sees it. It takes one to know one, after all, and despite the heir being crippled from a former accident, his intelligence and power was not to be overlooked through his appearance and coy smiles.

In fact, he might even be more dangerous than his old man, this theory only proven when his arms snake around your waist. The matching rings gleam from under the light, and you press yourself closer to him to whisper in his ear, your attention very much still on Satoru.

Satoru’s entire body burns.

“Still there, Sir?” Suguru asks, gripping his boss’ bicep to hold him back. Smart of him, Satoru exhales through his nose, unable to stop his glare from darting to your husband’s.

He’s heard of you, of him, of how his most annoying rival had a phenomenal trophy wife who looked harmless at first look, but was actually the brains of most of his operations. Satoru forgets how to breathe normally because he’s heard of you, and the rumors he’s gotten wind of about Naoya’s trophy wife are nothing less of how dedicated and perfect the two of you are.

Slapping Suguru’s arm away from him, Satoru grits his teeth. “Get me a drink.”

His precious angel was gone. No, this woman that stood before him…you were an entirely different entity, something darker, something along the lines that were more like him.

What exactly happened the day he left you?

taglist: @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head tagging the ones who asked for part 2, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years ago

Text

The Devil Within ~ MYG [Request]

WORD COUNT: 11.3K

GENRE: ANGST! ANGST! ANGST! For a little lightness...ANGST! This is an angst fic, filled with arsehole Yoongi acts

PAIRING: Arsehole Yoongi x Maid!Reader

A/N: Just as a warning this is an ANGST fic, I’ve spoken with the person that requested it and they wanted a ANGST ending which means no happy ending and no part 2’s

The longer you sat in the waiting room the longer you began to grow self-conscious of yourself, there were two beautiful blonde receptionists with their eyes trained on you as you nervously pulled at the skirt you were wearing. At first, you thought you were imagining things, they couldn't have been staring at you but it turned out they were. Looking you up and down in disgust as they mumbled to one another, you tried not to overthink it since you were wearing the same clothes as them only less polished. While their clothes were freshly washed, pressed and ironed yours were worn for the sixth time that week and it was only a Wednesday afternoon but you'd made sure they were clean before wearing it all. Instead of paying them attention, you tried to keep your mind on the interview. Going over everything in your head that you knew the lady you were meeting with was going to ask you. The number of interviews that you had been to you could have set up a business giving people interview techniques for a living but it wasn't a stable job like this one was. A small office job within a huge company like this was no big deal, or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of anyway. BigHit were one of the largest companies in Seoul and here you were applying for a job to work in their financial department something that you had never done before.

You'd gotten so lost in your own thought's you hadn't heard a squeaky door opening to reveal a man standing there in a grey suit, he glanced up from a folder and around the empty waiting room.

"Miss Y/l/n?" You glanced up when you heard a male voice calling out your name, you stared over at the balding man that was smiling at you he looked as though he was going to be nice but you were expecting someone else. It wasn't the woman you had arranged to meet with, or if it was she was in desperate need of updating her image on the website you applied on. As soon as he realised he had your full attention he pointed at the office behind him that he had just emerged from,

"Right this way," He told you as he walked back into what you were assuming was his office, you slowly raised from the chair and brushed your skirt off before beginning to walk. Tripping over your own feet and stumbling into the reception desk making the two girls laugh at you together. They didn't even try to mask that they were laughing at you as they continued to stare, waiting to see if you would do anything else. The heat in your body began to rise in embarrassment but you brushed it off trying to act as though you weren't bothered by their laughter and you headed into the room.

As you walked into the room you tried not to let the shocked gasp leave your throat as you looked around the room, it looked more like a study in some penthouse apartment instead of somebodies office. There was large floor to ceilings windows giving a huge view of Seoul, a large mahogany desk directly in front of the windows with a large leather office chair on one side and two red leather chairs on the other.

"Please, take a seat and we can start talking with one another," The man said as he sat down on his chair, opening your folder to look over everything you'd brought with you. Copies of your grades, work experience, references and other things potentially bosses needed to see from you.

"I'm Sejin, you were supposed to meet with my assistant today but I managed to make the meeting instead." He told you as he glanced up at you, putting his hands together on the desk as he made direct eye contact with you. This was slightly different from the other interviews that you had been to before, the others were far more relaxed. You would be given a beverage or something before he headed straight into the interview questions,

"I suppose we should start with the hardest question, Why do you want to work for BigHit?" The question you'd been dreading but had prepared for all at once. It was the number one question that everyone hated to be asked. The thought of telling a complete stranger the truth about why you needed this job was embarrassing so you'd come up with a better idea instead.

"I wanted to branch out, expand my experiences in the business world and work for one of the best entertainment companies in Seoul," The truth was you'd been fired. Your old company was going into liquidation and fired you after no longer being able to afford your pay salary anymore resulting in you relying on your roommates for help. The last four months you'd been searching for jobs high and low, willing to do whatever it took to make sure you could keep the apartment you shared but it appeared as though the world was out to get you. No one was hiring and your roommates were going to kick you out if you didn't get a job soon.

"That sounds like a smart move, branching out can be fun. What made you think of joining our financial team?" He stared back down at your folder and his brows pressed together in confusion as he read over your experience,

"I don't see any finance training or experience on your records. In fact, you were in admin before." The truth was that this was the only job that BigHit had advertised and you applied for it without even looking too much into it, you figured you would get training or learn as you went along and a job was a job a the end of the day no matter what you had to do.

"I needed to learn something new, a new skill." You lied with a convincing smile on your face but it was as if Sejin could see right through you, he simply shut your folder and sighed to himself. Rubbing the bridge of his nose as he realised he was going to have to deliver some upsetting news to you,

"Miss Y/l/n, as much as I would love to take on someone with your enthusiasm, it wouldn't be worth it in the long run. We would have to train you from the bottom up," Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach as you realised he was telling you that you didn't get the job, he had a blank expression across his face as he sighed at you once again.

"I'm sure you'll be able to find something new somewhere else or you can keep checking our website for something similar to your old job-"

"No! Please, sir...I'll do anything, I'll work as a bin cleaner, I'll be your assistant, I'll clean the bathrooms, a bathroom attendant, damn it. I'll be a maid please, I just- I need a job...Any job," Sejin let out a sad sigh as he heard the desperation in your voice and the look on your face as you pleaded with him to take a chance on you. Your eyes were glossed over as it looked like you were about to cry in front of him, he could tell there was something going on in your life that made you this upset but he couldn't take the chance.

"I can't, there's nothing I can offer you...I'm sorry," He looked upset that he couldn't give you what you so clearly needed but if he gave a job to every person that begged him or gave him a sob story he would have lost his job years ago.

"I'll keep you on the list if anything comes up," He promised as you got up from the chair, bowing to him before turning to leave the office. He watched you leaving, biting down on his lip as he flicked your folder open again, going over everything you had to offer including all of your work experience that was on the side. Maybe if there was something in the building he didn't know about he could put your name and number forward for it, help you get the job you so clearly needed. He stared down at your experience and smiled to himself as he saw what he needed to see. After leaving university you'd been a maid for five years before working for your previous company, he chewed on the inside of his lip before grabbing the phone from his desk and calling his assistant. The phone rang for a couple of seconds before she finally picked it up on the other end,

"Maria...Are the boys still looking for a maid?"

Later that night you were in your bedroom of your apartment packing up your clothes after your roommates said it was the final straw, asking you to leave as soon as you could.

"I'm sorry about everything, you know we would let you stay if we could afford it," Sana said as she came into the room with two full glasses of red wine in her hand, it was a peace offering since she couldn't convince the other girls to let you stay. Sana was one of the girls you'd bonded closer with over your time in the apartment, the other girls were nice but you weren't as close to them as you were with Sana.

"You guys need the rent, I understand." You took the glass from her, drinking half of it before carefully placing it down and going back to packing while she sat down on the floor at the base of your bed. The sooner everything was in boxes the sooner it would all be taken care of, you weren't sure where you were going to go since going back to your parents wasn't the best idea in the world.

"What did the interviewer say anyway? She looked like a bitch on her image," Sana hissed as she tried to make you feel better but you sighed knowing that nothing she could say or do would make you smile right now. You began folding up one of your dresses and placed it into a cardboard box as you shook your head, remembering that it wasn't the original woman you'd gone to see.

"It was a man, Sejin, he just said I wasn't qualified enough...Then I begged for a different job and I was still told no." She bit down on her lip at the thought of you begging for a job, she'd tried to get you a job at her office but they were already filled up.

"I'm sure something will come along, everything happens for a reason," That was the way Sana was in life, she was always trying to look on the brighter side of things and normally you would agree with her but lately it just felt as though the whole world was against you. Laughing whenever you failed at something or intentionally getting your hopes up for nothing, making you jump through hoops only to throw a hole underneath you to make you fall into it.

"It is, what it is." You mumbled before downing the rest of the wine and then letting out a disgusted hiss as you got hit by a nasty aftertaste, it was the worst wine you'd ever tasted.

"Well, I'm going to order-" Sana stopped speaking about food when your phone began to ring, it was almost 10 pm, who would be calling you this late? The two of you stared over at the phone with wide eyes as it continued to ring loudly, you were both shocked that it was ringing since everyone you knew was in the apartment. Picking your phone up from the box you saw that it was a private number and Sana smiled to herself quietly getting up from the floor. She showed you that her fingers were crossed as she nodded at you to answer it,

"Answer it. I'll go order dinner." The door to your room shut and you took a couple of deep breaths before answering the call, trying not to overthink it. It could have just been a cold caller or some pervert with your number,

"Hello, Y/n speaking." Your nails dug into the palm of your hand as you realised how stupid you sounded to the other person on the phone but you tried to keep yourself calm.

"Hello this is Sejin, we met earlier about the Financial Admin job," A glimmer of hope sparked in your chest as you recognised his voice, you hoped he was calling to offer you the job after all but you knew you couldn't sound hopeful about it so you acted as though you may have forgotten something in his office.

"Yes Sir, I remember. Did I forget something at your office?" He chuckled softly at you as he bit down on his lip, he was still in his office staring down at your folder along with some other contracts that he had at the ready. After speaking with his clients and remembering how badly you needed a job he knew you would be the perfect one for the job he had to offer. Everyone else before you had either quit not long after starting it couldn't take the job in the first place.

"No, nothing. I was just calling to see if you were interested in another job we have to offer. It's not an admin job but-"

"I'll take it," You said rather quickly as you cut him off midsentence, he let out a breathy chuckle as you cut him off.

"I'm impressed by your enthusiasm but I think we should speak in the morning about it. If you still want it after hearing what it is, you can start working right away." You began thanking him over and over again while jumping up and down on the spot hoping he couldn't hear through his end of the call.

"Thank you so much, sir, you won't regret this." You told him as you looked at Sana in your doorway, a giant grin plastered across her face as she saw how happy you were, she'd heard the jumping from just outside the door and wanted to see what you were excited about.

"I'm sure I won't. I'll see you tomorrow morning Miss Y/l/n, bright and early." He told you in a warning tone before hanging up, you let out a high-pitched squeal while jumping up and down once again. Sana rushing over to you, holding your hands as she joined in on the celebratory jumping giggling with you.

"You got the job?!" She yelled out at you while you nodded at her,

"Kind of, they've offered me a different job but with the same company. I have to go and see him tomorrow to talk things out. He said if I still want it after finding out what it is then I can have it," She stopped jumping as she stared at you with a serious expression on her face, her seriousness made you stop jumping and you frowned at her, wondering what was wrong.

"What if it's some kind of pervert job...Like he wants to pay you for sex or...be his "personal assistant,"," She put up air quotations and you shook your head at her slapping her hands down as she continued to use air quotations followed by rude hand gestures.

"Don't be disgusting, he's like five times my age and he's married...Besides...A job is a job," You wiggled your eyebrows jokingly which caused her to slap your arm playfully and you both went back to celebrating your new job, jumping up and down on the spot.

"Good thing I ordered pizza!" She called out as she kissed your cheeks softly,

"Tonight we celebrate! My roommate doesn't have to move out!" She sang out of tune while making a b-line for the door of your room to tell the others the good news. But before she disappeared she stood in the doorway once again,

"I told you that everything happens for a reason, things are finally starting to look up." Winking at you playfully she left the room, yelling out that you were going to get to stay longer and you collapsed down onto the bed. Smiling up at the ceiling at the thought of your new job, wondering what it could have possibly been and why he thought you wouldn't take it after speaking with him about it tomorrow.

The next morning you'd raced down to the BigHit building so you could get there for opening hours, Sejin said early but he didn't give you a specific time so you just assumed he meant as early as possible. You'd made no attempt to get breakfast, your appetite had gone out of the window after the pizza you had the night before, you'd been too busy going over everything in your head as you thought about what this job could be. Mumbling could be heard from the other side of the room and that was because of the two receptionists sitting there once again as they stared at you, talking to one another as they made it clear it was you they were speaking about. It was as if they didn't care. You had the same outfit on as yesterday but you didn't worry what they thought of you, you'd gotten next to no sleep last night all you worried about was what Sejin thought of you and what was the job he was going to give you. The door to his office opened and he was standing there in a black suit this time,

"Mina, Amber you can go on your break," Sejin said as he stared at them not appreciating the fact that they were laughing at you while they were supposed to be working, they glanced over at him then t you in silence before leaving the room.

"If you'd like to come into my office." Anxiety began to bubble up in your stomach as you remembered what Sana had said the night before about him paying you for sex and how he had just sent out the only two workers in the immediate area.

"Have a seat," He said again as he walked behind the door of the office, pouring you both a glass of water before joining you at the desk. This time instead of your folder being on the desk there were seven other folders spaced out with initials written on them. Alongside that, there were some contracts that looked very important with different sticky notes poking out of the sides of them.

"I won't beat around the bush, I'll tell you what the job is and then we will talk business." He gently placed a glass of water down in front of you before sitting down across from you like he had done the day previous,

"You said you were willing to do any job, is that statement still true?" You nodded with an unsure look on your face that made Sejin laugh softly to himself,

"Don't look so worried...I've been looking for a maid for one of our groups for a while. Of course, there will be a lot of contracts and rules you'll have to abide by but if you're willing the job is all yours," Relief washed over you as you realised he wasn't going to make you sleep with him for money but just clean, cleaning was the easiest thing in the world to do.

"Of course, What rules will there be?" He nodded his head as he pushed the contract forward, it has to have been around two-hundred or more pages long but you stared at it.

"Every rule is in there, I can't tell you anything about the group until you've signed the NDA's." You nodded and he smiled as you pulled out some reading glasses from your bag,

"You can read up everything you like, I'll get someone to make us a hot drink and I'll be here if you have any questions at all." He reassured you with a smile, going to his laptop while you made yourself busy with the contracts that were in front of you. Everything looked so professional and serious, you could expect less from a company such as BigHit but it did make you wonder who you would be working with.

There was so much to sign on each page that by the time you had finished your hand was cramping up and it was getting dark outside. You'd taken breaks throughout the day to have something to eat, speak with Sejin and talk about any changes that needed to be made but everything was perfectly fine with the contract. Signed and dated on every document that needed to be dealt with.

"Now that you've signed those I can tell you who you will be working for, what your job will entail and what they expect from you." Sejin slid the seven folders over to you as he smiled nervously, it looked as though he was unsure about you taking this job but you didn't care who it was as long as it paid and it paid very well.

"I suggest taking those home to look over since starting Monday you'll be working for the boys." The boys? You glanced up from the folder from Sejin to the initials on each folder once again, KSJ, MYG, JHS, KNJ, PJM, KTH and JJK. It made your heart pound as you realised who it was you were going to be working for and Sejin could read you like a book,

"Their preferences for how they like their rooms being done is in their folders. I'll have you a keycard made for Monday morning and I'll take you to meet them myself. They can be daunting at first but they're lovely, I promise." You nodded along with him and he smiled as you collected the folders together,

"I would suggest packing a bag, you'll be staying with the boys. You'll have your own apartment but you're expected to be on call for them whenever they may need your assistance.

"Oh...Living with them? Isn't that a little extreme?" You remembered skimming over your holiday days in the contract but you'd been in such a rush to sign it all and make sure you had a job you hadn't even taken notice of living with a band.

"It's all a necessary part of the job, it'll be like having roommates, I'm sure you and the boys will get along just fine," He told you as he got up from his desk, ready to see you out of the door for the night.

"As I said, go over every detail in their personal folders. It'll tell you what they do and don't like in their rooms, what they want you to clean and things like that." You nodded trying to keep yourself under control as you headed into the reception area, it was empty since it was almost 8 at night.

"Do you need a ride home? I'm sure I can drop you off..." You shook your head, thanking him anyway as you headed out of the office building taking in the cold air and trying to clear your head from the spinning it was experiencing.

It was four in the morning and you were still reading through all of the folders that you had for each of the members of BTS, all of them wanting specific things for their bedrooms but never being too over the top with anything. All of them except for Yoongi that was, while the other boys just wanted you to do basic cleaning of their room every day and changing their sheets once a week it appeared as though Yoongi wanted more than that.

The bedroom must be :

Cleaned every day, nothing moved out of place unless specifically asked to be moved and told where it is placed.

New sheets every three days made with the covers folded at the top. A blanket at the bottom of the bed and pillows fluffed properly.

Hovering the floor once a day, mopping the floor once a day

Dusted over everything once a day, making sure the computer and pianos are cleaned properly without streaks on the buttons or screens

The bedroom must smell like specific aftershave that I will provide

At first, you didn't know if it was to be taken seriously or not, all of the guys were portrayed as these super nice guys but now it seemed as though Yoongi was demanding and wanted to treat you as someone who would wait on him, hand and foot.

"Is he serious?" You mumbled to yourself as you poured another mug of coffee for yourself, staring over the words again and again. The others just wanted basic cleaning in their rooms but the rest of the dorms/building was where you were needed most. Doing everything you would have expected to do on a cleaning job but this was outrageous even for a celebrity.

Monday morning you'd made it your mission to talk to Sejin about everything Yoongi had down in his chart, wondering if it was some kind of joke or if it was serious.

"It's serious, he has a strict way he likes his room," Was all he had told you earlier in the day and now you were making your way into the building where the dorms where.

"The boys are on the 5th and 6th floor. You'll have your own room on the 7th." He explained as he pushed a card into the elevator slot and clicked on the floor he needed, hanging you the card when he was through with it. Your name was on the front of it along with the BigHit logo,

"Don't lose it, you won't be able to get a replacement." He said as he continued going up to the 5th floor with you, standing in silence as you went up on the different floors.

"Have they had maids before me?" You were curious to know why the boys didn't have a maid until now and if they had maids before what had happened to them.

"They did, they all quit without reason. You're the first one they've had in about six months. They've been in need of one for a while," He laughed nervously as he turned to look at you, this didn't make you feel any better. Quit without reason? What did that even mean?

"The boys are all at work except for Jimin and Jungkook, they don't have projects that they're working on so they'll give you a tour of the dorms." You stepped out on the fifth floor to be greeted by a large living space, the lift opened straight into it. An open area with a kitchen off to the side and then down the hall were some rooms that seemed to be locked off.

"Jungkook? Jimin?!" Sejin called out as he dropped keys down onto the counter and waited for the members to come to him, a door slammed from down the hall and Jimin appeared with a smile on his face.

"You must be Y/n!" He said in a happy tone, shaking your hand as you smiled at him.

"Nice to meet-" You stopped talking when you heard running coming from the other side of you, Jungkook was standing there sweating.

"I was just working out when I heard Manager Sejin, it's nice to meet you Y/n." He bowed to you so you bowed back smiling as he turned to Sejin.

"We'll give her the tour, you can leave her in trusted hands," Sejin laughed sarcastically before turning to look at you.

"You have my number in case of emergencies, remember the rules and I guess this is it. I'll bring over your copies of the contracts later." He waved goodbye before getting into the elevator, leaving you with the boys in uncomfortable silence as you stared at one another.

"So...The tour?" You suggested, trying not to make everything more awkward but Jungkook clapped his hands together.

"I'll shower, Jimin show her where everything is on this floor and then we'll head upstairs." You smiled as he rushed off leaving you with Jimin who was still smiling at you,

"You can relax, we know there are a lot of rules but honestly they're easy to follow and we're easy-going." He assured you as he pointed over at the hallway he had appeared from,

"This floor is basically everything you already see. The living room, kitchen and dining area and then these doors lead to different rooms." He began taking you down the hallway, all of the walls were painted the same white colour making it look bigger than it probably was and the doors were all a light brown colour.

"This is the cleaning supply room, BigHit keep it stocked so you won't have to go out and do that but everything you'll need is in here." The door opened and inside were three walls of shelves, stacked with every cleaning supply you thought someone could ever need.

"Then the next room is the laundry room. There's a washing machine, dryer and an ironing board if we ever need it," He closed the cleaning closet and opened the next door, this one was larger than the other. You could stand inside this room with the door closed and still freely move around unlike the cleaning closest which looked as though it could barely hold a mouse inside of it.

"The only other rooms on this floor are the bathroom which is right there," He pointed over his shoulder at another identical door and then down the hall where Jungkook had vanished to,

"The gym. You won't have to worry about cleaning the gym. They have a professional come and do that...All you have to wash in there would be the towels and they're kept in a basket outside of the door." You wondered how you were going to remember all of this but you nodded along with what Jimin was saying and as if he could read your mind he smiled,

"Relax...Trust me, it'll just feel like you're living with some brothers and you'll do it like second nature. Taehyung and I normally do a lot of the cleaning anyway since we're used to it now. You don't have to worry about doing our rooms," It was a relief to know that you weren't going to have to do all six bedrooms every day along with Yoongi's room which was going to take up a lot of your time anyway.

"The second floor awaits," Jungkook said as the elevator doors opened to reveal him standing there, his hair was thrown into a man-bun and he was in fresh clothes.

"The sixth floor is basically just all of our bedrooms with en-suites then one main bathroom on the end," Jimin explained as you all got into the lift together, Jungkook tried to make conversation with you unlike how Sejin let you ride in silence.

After the tour was given to you by the boys they let you go up to your room to chill for a little while, wanting you to get relaxed in your room and unpack. The room you had was a huge bedroom with a small kitchen area to yourself, nothing much. One counter with a small mini-fridge and a kettle for yourself, then there was a joint bathroom to your room with a large corner bathtub, shower and toilet.

"You're starting to clean now?" You heard Jimin asked as he came down the hall to you, you'd brought down the washing from outside of the gym and began loading the machine. The boys each used the laundry-shoot so their clothes were already in the laundry room whenever you needed them to be done.

"I figured I could get a head start, I'll do the washing and then clean up the kitchen after you've all eaten." With Jimin conversation felt easy, you didn't feel awkward around him and it was as if the conversation just naturally flowed between the two of you.

"After we've eaten dinner? You're eating too, you can eat with us." He chuckled softly as he noticed how your eyes had grown wide at the thought of eating with the rest of the guys.

"It'll be a good way to break the ice and get to know us all better. As I said, it'll be like having brothers around you," He nudged your side before winking playfully and heading out of the room leaving you speechless as you started the machine up. Having all of the boys treat you like a sister would be nice and make your job a lot easier,

"Y/n? Wanna play a game for a while? I need someone to beat this level with me," Jungkook asked as he heard you coming out of the laundry room and back into the living room,

"Sure...What are you playing?" You questioned as you walked over to the sofa, sitting down beside him as he handed you one of the Nintendo Switch controllers.

"Smash Brothers, prepare to lose!"

Dinner with the boys had been insightful to what you had to look forward to, Namjoon had brought Thai take-out home with him and you all sat around the table getting to know one another. They apologised for Yoongi not being there but he was working on things at the studio and would probably be home later than the rest of them, or that was how it was most nights. You'd gotten to know each of them and they'd gotten to know you more since all they'd known so far was everything Sejin had told them.

"He said you really needed the job, what happened?" Jungkook asked as he helped you put the dishes away from dinner, you looked at him not knowing if you should tell him the truth or lie but there was something about his eyes that just made you want to tell him everything.

"My job before this went into liquidation and my roommates were going to kick me out unless I found something new...BigHit was my last chance before I would have been on the streets." You admitted as you closed the cupboard, Jungkook was staring at you with wide eyes. He'd figured you just really wanted to work for the entertainment company and that was why you'd been so desperate, he hadn't expected that.

"Going home?" He questioned but you rubbed your arms while shaking your head,

"Not really an option, my parents weren't that great and I didn't want to go home to them with no job...But now I have a job so it's great." You admitted with a smile on your face, thanking Jungkook even though he hadn't been the one to hire you.

"Glad to help, you should get some rest." He told you as he looked over at the time, it was almost midnight and he was crashing soon.

"I'll head up to bed soon, I'm just going to sort the laundry out." You admitted as you disappeared down the hall to the laundry room.

By the time you were done figuring out whose clothes were whose it was almost 1:30 am and the elevator dinged to let you know someone was on the fifth floor, you poked your head out to see if it was one of the boys who couldn't sleep but you saw Yoongi standing there instead. You froze. Yoongi was the one person you hadn't been introduced to yet and it was the early hours of the morning, he looked pissed off so you weren't going to go bounding over to him with a smile and introduction. Backing back into the room you wondered what to do with yourself, looking at the piles of clothes and then back at the now-closed door.

Yoongi had seen you already when you poked your head out of the door but he didn't bother saying anything, he walked into the kitchen grabbing some food and a bottle of water before heading up to his room for the night. Too tired to introduce himself to you and stick with the pleasantries when he knew you would quit within a matter of time just like all of the other maids the boys had had. It was just a matter of when and why. All of them quit eventually, either not being able to hack the jobs the boys had or because they were far too lazy to do anything the boys needed them to do. Yoongi was sick of getting to know new maid after new maid only for them to up and leave within a matter of days or weeks so he decided he wasn't going to bother getting to know you. He didn't see the point in maids anyway when he and the boys could look after themselves, it was nothing but a person getting in their way around the house and why should they have to deal with that? It was why he always gave such a long list of demands in his part of the contract, he wanted it to be off putting to the maids that would think about working for them. Who would honestly put themselves through this just for some money?

The first two weeks of working for the boys had been going brilliantly, you'd been getting along great with all the boys but you'd grown a close friendship with Jimin and Jin who would regularly help you around the dorms when they had days off or spend time with you whenever you had nothing to do which wasn't very often. Most of your days were filled with doing Yoongi's bedroom and the others in the mornings and then the rest of the day was filled with hovering and mopping each floor, dusting every room on each floor of the house. Cleaning each of the bathrooms, sometimes more than once a day if the boys had been messy. Clothes were always piling up on you since they were seven boys each of them wearing different sets every day sometimes more than one set a day so you were constantly doing the laundry. Except for today, today was your day off and you'd gone home to your apartment to visit Sana telling her about your job. Although you couldn't tell her who you were working for you told her that it was a lot of fun, even if it was a little white lie.

Working for the boys was fun but working for Yoongi wasn't, as time had passed at the dorms you couldn't help but feel Yoongi had it out for you. At first, you thought it was all in your head since he was such a nice guy but as more time passed you began to realise it wasn't. He would always give you daunting tasks to do, piling more and more on top of them as if you were his personal assistant. Just yesterday he had you building a brand new bookcase for his room, only to tell you that he didn't like it and asked you to take it back to the store for him. Yoongi was always making sure you were the one doing basic tasks for him around the house as well, testing his food for him, buying him things from the store when no one else would go for him or doing things a personal assistant would do. When it first started happening it wasn't so bad but as time passed you realised the tasks were getting worse and worse as if he was testing you on purpose and he was. When Yoongi realised you weren't going to quit as easily as the other maids had done he'd decided to turn things into his own mind game wanting to see just how far he could push you before you quit. Pushing you as far as he could before you would snap, it was more fun than watching you do the housework anyway. None of the other boys knew about his plan, of course, he could see how much they liked you already which only made him hate you more.

You were his new source of entertainment and he was coming up with different ways he could push your buttons and see if he could break you. Today was the first in many tests he was doing that would affect your work, when you'd finished separating all the colours in the laundry room he "accidentally" broke a plate in the kitchen to grab your attention. Whilst you were cleaning up the glass he snuck a red top between the whites and hoped you wouldn't notice until it was too late. Then all he had to do was sit back and wait for the timer to finish.

"Hey Y/n, I was wondering if you were done with-" Hoseok stopped speaking when he walked into the laundry room to find you holding his white shirt that was now stained a bright pink colour. Panic flooded your body as you saw that it was now a completely different colour than it was when it went into the washing machine. Your heart was practically trying to leap out of your chest and run out of the building,

"I-I didn't do it, I must not have seen whatever dyed it inside of the machine Hoseok. I'm so sorry," Your voice cracked as you looked at Hoseok, you couldn't tell if he was mad about the shirt but you were scared. The shirt looked as though it cost more than you were ever being paid and it wasn't as though you could just run out and buy him a brand new top when it was that expensive. Yoongi smirked from the sofa as he heard the panic in your voice show up, he glanced over his shoulder to look at Hoseok who had his back towards him he wanted to see what would happen when Hoseok got mad at you. Hoseok was the calmest one out of the boys so if he kicked off at you it was surely enough to make you rethink working for them.

"I love it," Hoseok called out, taking the pink shirt from your hands and holding it up to his chest as if he was modelling it without trying it on.

"What?" Yoongi mumbled to himself as he watched Hoseok smile brightly turning around and posing in front of you.

"No one has a pink version of this designer top, it makes it all the more special." Relief washed over you as he walked away from you, your heart calmed down you went back into the machine pulling out a red shirt that must have dyed the rest of the washing but you knew you'd separated everything, you checked four times before starting the machine.

Week by week and day by day things went wrong for you all of the time, it was like the apartment was haunted and throwing mean tricks at you. It started with the boy's laundry all being dyed at least four times a week which was stressing you out to the point where you wouldn't leave the laundry room until it the washing machine had finished its cycle. Yoongi hated that you were starting to take precautions with everything so he had to step up his game, making his room messier and messier every night so you would have to spend more of your time in there than anywhere else in the dorms but nothing was working. He was going about it all wrong and he realised it now. Stepping things up to the next level he began to "accidentally" break things around the apartment, glasses, mirrors, plates...Anything that he could break and make it look like an accident would be broken but it still wasn't enough. It felt as though nothing Yoongi could and would do would be enough so he started to take your sleep away from you in any way that he could, starting with late-night food runs.

"Y/n?" You turned around while you were half asleep to see Jimin staring at you, he was dressed in Chimmy Pj's and holding a glass of milk when he stepped into the elevator to see you there. It was almost 2 in the morning and he couldn't think of a logical reason for you to be awake when he was sure you'd been up since 3 am the day before.

"Where have you been?" All you did was hold up a bag of what looked like warm food and hummed tiredly, resting your head on the wall of the lift as you waited for it to start moving again,

"Yoongi wanted something to eat but the delivery driver wouldn't deliver it here so he asked me to get it," Jimin frowned even more as he heard that Yoongi told you to get him something to eat when they were all perfectly capable of getting their own food for themselves.

"Why didn't-"

"He's in the middle of a song, I didn't want him to lose his groove," Jimin sighed as he watched you get out on the sixth floor and began to tiredly stumble your way over to Yoongi's room knocking on the door for a second before a tired Yoongi opened the door, snatched the food from you and headed inside.

"Goodnight Jimin," You mumbled as you headed past him once again, into the elevator but Jimin was still shocked at the action from his Hyung.

Eventually, Yoongi got bored of watching you push yourself past not sleeping and running on maybe one or two hours of sleep a night and decided to move on from that tactic, instead he was going to try a more direct approach to things. Face you head on.

"Why do you work for us?" You froze when you heard a voice come from behind you, you thought the dorms were empty for the day but Yoongi was standing directly behind you.

"Because I need a job..." You backed away from him, he never spoke to you unless he was after something or one of the boys asked him to talk to you. Even then the conversation was blunt and straight to the point, this time you could sense he was up to something and it didn't sit right with you.

"I mean why...Did you think we would all start sleeping with you if you worked for us?" You dropped a mug onto the floor as the words left his mouth,

"Because we wouldn't, we wouldn't go near someone as poor and pathetic as you," Each word seemed to cut you deeper than the last and you just stared at him wondering what you ever did to make him this spiteful towards you.

"Or did you think you could sell stories about us to the press? We've had that one before too," He scoffed remembering one of the maids that tried to sell a fabricated story to the media, the boys all had stories that they gave to each maid for testing them. If the story was ever attempted to be leaked they would know exactly who did it and that maid would be sued,

"Why would I sell stories about you? I earn enough here," You mumbled as you began sweeping up the bits of broken glass from the floor, making a mental note to replace Jungkook's Bakugou mug the next time you went out shopping.

"You earn enough? It doesn't look like it, look at what you wear," He stared you up and down and it felt as though someone had just pulled a rug out from underneath you. Where was all of this coming from? Why was he suddenly attacking your appearance and personality out of nowhere when he had no idea who you were as a person.

"You're nothing but a no-good maid who should just quit, we don't need you or want you here," You ignored him as you went back to washing up the dishes but this only seemed to anger Yoongi more, he hated being ignored.

"Are you that fucking poor you'll put up with the constant breaking of items around the house? You'll put up with me dying all of the clothes just to see if it'll piss the boys off?" He laughed loudly as he watched you, your whole body tensed giving away that you were uncomfortable or something he had said was the truth,

"You're poor?" He scoffed once again as he laughed looking you up and down,

"I mean no wonder. I think that's the sixth day in a row you've worn that shirt and those pants together. Filthy." He spat at you, his tone laced with venom as he gave you a disgusted look as if you were nothing more than something he had just stepped in but you counted to ten inside of your head trying to stay calm.

"You've been dying the clothes? Why?" He hated that you were asking him about something so calmly, he stared at you waiting for the anger to come but it never did.

"Why aren't you pissed?!" You ignored his question as you drained the water from the sink, trying to walk away from him but he took your wrist in his grasp forcing you to look up at him.

"Can you go and make my bed, I don't like the way it's been made today." You stared at him in disbelief, he'd already had you remake the bed four times that morning.

"I already-"

"Is that backtalk? I might have to talk to Sejin about the way the staff speak to us," You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded at him.

"I'll go and make the bed-"

"I want fresh sheets but I want that bedding. Wash it and have it dried before I get into bed tonight," He ordered as he cut you off mid-sentence, you nodded at him in silence heading up to the bedrooms and you wanted to scream out in anger at him. Reminding yourself that you needed the job and you needed the money.

Months went by but the mind games with Yoongi continued to grow and get worse, he had basically turned you into his personal assistant as well as a maid for the boys. You were lucky if you got two hours of sleep a night on the things he had you doing, just dumb things that no one would ever think of doing he wanted you to do. Polishing each of the awards, cleaning the bathroom downstairs and then making sure all of the cupboards in the kitchen were dust-free because his hayfever was acting up. There weren't enough hours in the day for you to get everything you originally did do as well as the extra chores he was throwing on top of you. Threatening you with the, "I can have you fired," line that he loved throwing around whenever you looked as though you were close to yelling or snapping at him for everything he was making you do. Tonight you were finally going home to your old apartment for some time off since you needed to take your holiday days,

"You look exhausted," Sana said as you laid on the sofa with your head in her lap, you nodded at her whining as you felt your head beginning to spin. It felt as though your head was ready to explode. The week you'd had was giving you a huge migraine and you didn't want to go back to the dorms tomorrow but you had to, you only had tonight off since Yoongi needed you back in time for the party they were throwing. You were in charge of cleanup after it. The boys thought it was weird that Yoongi was the one throwing a party when he didn't like going to them that often but they went along with it anyway.

"Maybe you can take some sick days?" Sana whispered as she ran her fingers over your cheeks, biting her lip as she realised how hot your face was to the touch. It was the first time she'd seen you in over three months and it was starting to worry her that you weren't taking the days off that you were supposed to. You weren't supposed to be working every day as you had been and it was starting to show that you were overworking yourself more than you said you were.

"When was the last time you went to the doctor?" She questioned but all you did was hum at her, her cold hands laying on your head was all you could think about. It was nice having a cold compress on your forehead but you went back to her question, you couldn't even remember the last time you had a day to yourself, never mind going to see a doctor.

"I've been busy," You grumbled at her, not wanting to admit the truth about your lack of sleep and troubles at the dorms, she would only make it into a larger deal than it needed to be.

"I'm going to crash, I'll see you in the morning," She watched you anxiously as you made your way into your old room, not bothering to shut the door or change out of your clothes before you dropped onto the bed and almost instantly fell to sleep.

There was that noise again, a shrill beeping sort of noise that kept coming and going, sometimes getting louder than before. You groaned trying to reach your hand up to touch your head but it felt as though you weighed the same as a bag of bricks,

"She's waking up," A voice you knew said as you tried to move again, the beeping got faster the more you began to wake up and you opened your eyes to bright light. Once you adjusted to the new lighting you looked around the room to see the boys standing around your bed,

"What are you doing in my bedroom?" You mumbled trying to seat up in the bed but you let out a squeak as you felt a pain radiate through your body, you looked down to see an IV drip attached to your arm and then a heart monitor on your fingers. That explained what the annoying beeping was that you'd been hearing over and over again.

"You're in the hospital," Jimin said as he looked at you with a worried expression plastered across his face, you glanced at each of them and they all looked as worried at the next included Yoongi who was staring at Jimin.

"You idiot, she can see she's in the hospital, Don't be dumb. Go and get a nurse," He hissed making Jimin mumble under his breath before turning to leave the room, the other boys all went back to asking you what had happened and how you got there.

"I don't know..." The last thing you could remember was going to bed in your old apartment and then everything was black,

"Miss Y/l/n, I see you're awake now. It's good to have you back, you gave us quite the scare." You frowned at the male doctor who began talking to you, telling you what had happened. Sana had found you the next morning and you were out cold, not responding to any touch or shake so she brought you in.

"It seems as though you just overworked yourself and had a pretty bad migraine. I'll prescribe you some strong painkillers for the pain and advise you to take some time off work," As Yoongi listened to the doctor explain that you were overworked he began to felt guilty for what he'd been making you do over the last months of you working for them. He knew he was responsible for making you work so much and yet you still continued to work for them despite being around this overworked to the point you were hospitalised you were still willing to go through the hell he was putting you through.

"Yes Doctor, I'll talk to my boss and arrange some time off." You lied as you waited for him to leave the room, turning back to the boys with a weak smile.

"I'll just do light work around the dorms if that's okay?" The question was said to all of them but directed mostly at Yoongi who nodded his head before ditching the room. The guilt on his chest felt like somebody was trying to crush him and he knew he had to lay off you and stop treating you the way he had been.

It was your first week back after taking some time off, the boys had been kind enough to let you stay in your room in their dorm while you recovered. Bringing you food whenever they could and making sure you didn't lift a finger until you were feeling 100% better. All week had been refreshing, nothing bad had happened and Yoongi had left you alone. No longer treating you as his own personal assistant he let you do your own jobs that you were originally hired to do.

"I was thinking we could go and have dinner tonight, we can all order our favourite take out," Jungkook said as you were making his bed with him.

"We should do that, it'll be fun." You told him as you put the pillow down onto his bed, looking over at him with a smile, he insisted on helping you do his room even though you'd told him you'd felt fine all week.

"How about we play some video games-" Jungkook stopped speaking when he heard a loud crash coming from down the hall, it sounded as though someone had just thrown something at the wall. The two of you stared at one another in worry before heading down the hall to find Yoongi attempting to clean up broken glass from the floor, mumbling to himself.

"Let me do it before you hurt yourself," You mumbled as you realised Yoongi was going to hurt his hand if he didn't stop but he couldn't. He hadn't meant to break the glass frame, it was supposed to be a surprise for you from Jimin but now it was ruined and smashed to pieces on the floor.

"I'll get the dustpan and brush," Jungkook called out as he ran for the lift, leaving you and Yoongi as you told him to stop picking up the large shards of glass but it was too late, he let out a yell as a piece sliced into the palm of his hand,

"Fuck! That's your fucking fault!" He yelled out as blood dripped onto the floor,

"You're nothing but a distraction! Fucking idiot!" He continued to yell out but you ignored him, grabbing his wrist as you began to drag him in the direction of the bathrooms as he continued to haul verbal abuse in your direction, reminding you why you were so stressed from before.

"Look at you, you can't even fucking say anything because you know I'm right don't you. So desperate for cash you begged for any job and are willing to put up with me," He laughed as you continued to clean up the small cut that was on his hand, keeping the tears in as much as you could despite how much his words were hurting you. Wondering how he found out that you'd begged for a job that day you went for a meeting,

"Begging for a job, pathetic." He scoffed once more and you finally lost it. Letting the tears you'd been holding in for months stream down your cheeks as you looked up at him.

“You really think I have a choice? Do you think I enjoy putting myself through this every day?” Tears poured out from your eyes but you didn't even notice them now, you were too angry to care that you were crying in front of the one person who made you feel the worst.

"Do you think I enjoy letting you do this shit to me? Using me like a fucking personal slave?!" You yelled out as he stared at you in shock, he hadn't expected this to come from you.

"I put up with everything you've thrown at me! Fucking ruining the laundry I did, breaking plates so that I would have to clean it up, being your person errand girl," You said as you remembered every little thing he'd made you do for him from shining his shoes down to making sure his folds on his laptop were organised properly because god forbid he actually do something for himself.

"I let you ridicule me day after day because I needed this job. Not all of us are some rich fucking celebrity who likes to shit on other people who have nothing," Jungkook froze outside the bathroom door as he heard everything Yoongi had put you through.

"I kept my mouth shut when you overworked me to the point of being hospitalised and what? I rest for a week and you decide to start it up again?" He didn't know what to say so he just stared at you,

"I'm fucking done." You threw his hand back to him and he hissed at the cold air hitting his wound but you didn't care anymore, you stormed out of the bathroom and into the lift. Not noticing Jungkook who had gone into the bathroom to speak with Yoongi after you left.

Sejin stared at Yoongi from across his desk, Yoongi felt as though he was in some kind of intervention. The boys were all stood behind him while Sejin told him off for everything. As soon as Yoongi confirmed to Jungkook that what you said was true he told everyone, not wanting him to get away with it.

"Do you think she'll sue us? Tell the press?" Sejin questioned as he threw his pen down onto the desk feeling fed up with everything,

"That's what you're worried about!?" Namjoon was red in the face with anger as he stared from his manager to band member, neither of them seemed to care that they had put a human life through hell for months.

"Do you not realise what Yoongi did?!" Yoongi stared down at his lap, he could already feel the same guilt crushing feeling he had at the hospital creeping back into him and it was feeling even worse now that he'd snapped at you before you quit without warning. The boys did nothing but yell at him for the car ride to the studios and he knew he deserved it, he deserved so much worse than they were going to do.

"You'll go and apologise to her, you'll make sure that she plans on telling no one this story and if she wants...She can contact me and we'll talk about compensation for what she went through," Namjoon went to say something but Sejin held up his hand to silence him,

"I don't want to hear it. Yoongi will go and say sorry." The room fell into silence as they all stared down at Yoongi who was still sitting there, his hand wrapped in a bandage.

"Now!" The boys yelled in sync with one another watching as he got up from the chair and stormed out of the office.

Opening the door to your apartment the last person you thought to see standing there was staring back at you, a bouquet of flowers in one hand with a box in the other.

"What do you want?" You asked plainly as the smile faded from your face, looking at the presents before back to his face.

"I wanted to say sorry for everything-"

"And you think presents will do that?" You cut him off, he licked his lips as he let you cut him off. You had every right to be angry with him and say whatever you wanted to say to him.

"No. I just...This is from Jimin, it was what I dropped earlier and it was an accident...I wasn't trying to break it on purpose...You have to believe that I feel guilty for everything I did and said before you were in the hospital...I thought if I pushed you too much you'd quit but you just kept working." You scoffed at him as you rolled your eyes,

"I needed the job. Now I'll be homeless in a couple of weeks," You took the present he said was from Jimin and placed it onto the table just inside the doorway of your apartment not wanting to move.

"Sejin said to call him...He'll be more than willing to compensate for what-"

"You mean to pay me to be silent with my story?" You raised your eyebrow at Yoongi who nodded his head.

"I feel so guilty, you have to believe I never meant to hurt you this much," You stared at him in disbelief,

"How could you not mean to hurt me? The hell you put me in?" You stared at him reading his face as you realised he really did feel guilty but it wasn't because you got hurt or you were upset it was because the boys were mad at him, he felt guilty because though around him made him feel that way.

"You only feel guilty because you got caught," You mumbled to him but he shook his head at you, trying to talk but his words came out as a stutter,

"I’m underneath your skin...Aren't I? The feeling of what you did to me crushing you? Now I'm the heavy burden that you can't bear...Ironic," You told him as you nodded your head smugly enjoying the fact that the person who had put you through hell was going through the exact same thing as you were.

"Don't worry, I won't tell my story to the press. I'll keep my mouth shut. Tell Sejin he can keep his money I'm not interested." Yoongi stayed silent but you waited to see if there was anything else,

"Do you still need the job?" You debated it as he questioned you, debated going back and acting as though nothing had happened but you shook your head.

"I'll find something else." You mumbled, folding your arms over your chest as he attempted to give you the flowers once again.

"I'm sorry-"

"I won't ever accept it, if you were sorry you would never have done it," He knew you were right but he still couldn't bring himself to move even after you shut the door in his face and disappeared back into your own apartment.

Jungkook walked into your apartment yelling out that he was there and you came down the stairs and jumped onto his back,

"Hey, you're late." You whined as you took the ice cream from his hands and wandered over in the direction of your sofa, he sat down beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

"I had a long day. We all had to record a song for, In the soop, you should have seen Yoongi running into the booth." It had been a year since you quit working as a maid for the boys and although you and Yoongi were never going to be the best of friends you'd managed to move past what he had done to you and put you through managing to deal with one another since you and Jungkook had begun dating not long after quitting.

"I bet it was funny," You laughed as you leant up to kiss Jungkook's cheek, pushing play on the movie you were watching together.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @innersooya @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block @acciocriativity @that-anxious-bisexual

A/N: If anyone ever treated me or someone I care about this way he would be out on his asssssssss

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imaginesmai · 4 years ago

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With all my heart (IRONDAD) - Chapter 1

Hey there! I’m back with a full fic! ❤💕💕💕 This is an irondad/bambi/The game plan AU! It’s finished, so it will have two updates every week, or more (if you guys like it a lot!) Make sure to follow me on instagram:@ irondadiscanon to know when I update, more irondad content and fic recs!

SUMMARY: Tony Stark isn't the best dad - distant, cold, almost neglectful. But when his ex-wife dies, he has to take care of his son; 5-year-old Peter, a boy with too many allergies and that can't talk to Tony without stuttering. Follow the path of two hurt people, a man and a boy, who learn how to love each other through thick and thin.-A Bambi AU (Disney) that @buckets_of_stars inspired me into writting that I've mixed with The Game Plan.

AO3 link

Tony has a tight smile on during the funeral. He knows he has no right being there, that most of the people around him, even if they are strangers for Tony, were closer to Mary than him. He shifts uncomfortable in his black suit, fighting the hangover from last night. On his right, Mary’s sister is crying her eyes out, looking at the coffin as its lowered on the ground. From what he has heard, the man besides May is Ben, his husband, and both of them have made a long journey to come to the funeral. It makes him feel bad, because Tony was the one arriving late and he lives barely thirty minutes away.

But the news hit him hard.

For six years, he has been doing just fine. He gets drunk, sleeps around with anyone that catches his eye, bosses around and goes to sleep really, really late. It’s not something to take pride of, but Tony likes his life – now, his past life. There is another thing that has been a constant for the last five years and a half; monthly cheques to his ex-girlfriend account. Since he lost any type of right over his son. Five and half years ago.

Now, Mary is lying eight foot deep in a coffin. He received a call yesterday, and found comfort in his liquor cabinet. He shouldn’t have, he’s sure of it, because he knows that there has to be new changes on his life from now on; but he still kept a small place of his heart for the brunette girl with big, doe eyes that had a contagious laugh. Tony tightens the grip on his left wrist, trying to control the shaking of his hands.

When that doesn’t work, he tries next looking at the small figure gripping May’s legs, close to Tony. It’s not the first time Tony has seen Peter Parker, because once or twice every two months, he gets to spend a weekend with his son. He has a room on the tower, as dull as a white paper, and Tony is listed as his second emergency contact. It doesn’t matter how much he tries to distance himself from Howard. Most of the times the kid is with him, Tony is reminded of the lost chance of raising him. Peter sees him as a stranger, and Tony drinks.

Peter sniffles softly, and May runs a careful hand through his curls. Taking after Tony, he’s short and skinny. The father doesn’t know much about him – that he likes science, is asthmatic and has a list of allergies, dyslexic, and his favourite colour is blue and red. Mary made sure to keep him away from Tony, and she wasn’t wrong. Because Tony is the worst influence the kid can have.

It doesn’t matter, though, because May and Ben are both active workers that are barely home, and Peter doesn’t have any other family left.

“Tony”

He turns around, and shamefully discovers that almost everyone is gone now. Only May, the priest and Peter remain. The last one is still hiding between May’s legs, hiccupping every now and then. Tony blinks and coughs the awkwardness; he tries to clear the wetness around his eyes, and thanks himself for getting dark glasses before leaving that morning. May, always the kind woman, gives him a soft smile, and squeezes his forearm gently. His husband doesn’t like Tony that much, but it seems that May sees something not even Tony himself can see.

“We have to arrange some things. Custody papers and legal documents” she says.

“Yes. I’ll – My driver is just there. He will take us to the notary. He has enough space for all of us. And don’t worry, Happy is discrete. He won’t – “

“Ben and I can take care of it just fine” May interrupts him. He pushes Peter forward, but the boy doesn’t look up. “Peter hasn’t slept much, and he hasn’t eaten since yesterday. I thought that, maybe, you could take him home and rest a little. It’s been hard for everyone.”

“Happy can take him”

“Peter needs his father”

It’s her stern voice. He has only heard it twice; once, when Peter was born and he was late for the birth, and Mary decided she didn’t even want him to meet his son. May had used her stern voice on her and Tony had held Peter close, as the boy latched on his little finger. The second time was directed at him. He was ready to give up the custody of Peter, he didn’t want to go to the trial; and thanks to May, who dragged him out of his ear, he got to see Peter every two months. Even if he hadn’t known how to do it right.

Peter looks up at Tony, and the man notices the tears still falling from his eyes. He has the same look he always carries around Tony; as if he wasn’t his father, just an authoritative stranger that he had to respect.

“I think a nap will do you some good” Tony lowers his voice, and tries to give Peter a reassuring smile. “Did you pack your bag already?”

“No” he answers in a small voice. “Uncle Ben said I c-could do it later”

“We can bring it later. Maybe have a last dinner together before we leave?” May suggests, and Peter nods vigorously. “We have to leave tomorrow morning. But we are only a few hours away. If he gets sick or needs anything, we’ll be here as soon as possible. And that goes for you too Tony. You can call me anytime you want”

“I think we’re gonna be just fine. Right, Peter?”

Tony holds his fist so that Peter can bump it, but the kid just stares at it. Possibly, it’s not the best place to do something like that. Reluctantly, he lowers his fist. He remembers the first time Peter was brought to him as a conscious human being, not a baby. Mary had been on a trip with him for three months, and Tony got to stay with Peter for a week – and in that moment, when Peter didn’t call Tony daddy but ‘Mr Tony’, Tony realized that Peter didn’t see him as a father. As a dad.

It hurts him that he hasn’t known how to be there for his son. Some of the dates Mary and him set for Peter to stay with Tony were spent poorly; Tony out drinking and Peter with Pepper or with a nanny. Tony missed some of them because he liked to party, and the man wasn’t there when the kid had his first asthma attack and ended up in hospital. He wasn’t even there for Peter’s fourth birthday, because he was lost somewhere in Monaco drinking expensive liquors and losing consciousness.

Selfishly, he thinks that this is his chance to make things right. Peter has to stay with him, because there is no chance that he lets the boy in the system, and staying with his aunt is impossible. So, he tries to bury his hurt and keeps the kind smile on.

“Give me a call when you’re finished” he tells May, who nods. The woman kneels in front of Peter, and cradles his cheek.

“We can come whenever you need us. Ask Tony to call us or use the phone mom got you, it’s in the bottom of your bag. You remember Ben’s number?” May asks. Peter doesn’t answer. “Come here, give me a big hug”

Peter launches himself to his aunt’s arms, letting out a chocked sob. May hugs him tight and lets him cry on her shoulder. As most of the times he’s with his son, Tony feels misplaced. Like he’s watching a show he’s not a part of – like it isn’t his family. It’s not, his mind supplies. They break the hug before Tony can dwell on the thought for too long. If someone expected Peter to hug his father next, they get a huge disappointment. Peter moves to stand close to Tony, and quickly dries his tears so Tony doesn’t notice them.

“No peanuts, walnuts, cashews or hazels. That goes for Nutella or other chocolate sweet that could have hazels” May remembers him, although Tony has JARVIS programmed to keep up with Peter’s allergies. “There are epinephrine injections in his bag, with the instructions. He has to take his vitamins every morning. After breakfast”

“And I have to be careful with lobsters and oysters, because they upset his stomach”

“You have to cut the crust off the sandwiches, and Peter doesn’t like cheese sandwiches. But make sure to put extra cheese on his pizza”

“He also likes mac and cheese, I know” Tony says with a bit of annoyance. “He’s my son. I know him better than what you think”

“You better take care of him, because I don’t care how much money you have or how important your last name is” May takes a threatening step forward. “If I have to drag your sorry Stark ass to court, I will. Without blinking once”

Tony briefly remembers the conversation he has had with May before the funeral. Mary said it in her will, Ben and May knew they would have to change their life style if Peter came to life with them, and Tony was the most capable person, in materials and financial terms, to take care of Peter. But still, she had offered to take him. And Ben had threatened Tony. The man hopes he can live to everyone’s expectations.

He reaches a hand and brings Peter closer. In a soft whisper that only comes out every now and then when he’s with his son, he tells him to go and wait in the car. Peter gives a quiet ‘yes sir’ and hugs May one last time. Tony doesn’t miss the glassy eyes May gets when Peter wraps his skinny arms around her waist and squeezes her tight. He has never received a hug from Peter.

Not like he feels worthy of them.

Peter waves at her and drags his feet to the car. The boy likes Happy, or at least he likes him as much as he can like someone from Tony’s life – he gives the man some rare smiles and actually answers to his questions. He watches as Peter disappear inside the car, and closes the door behind him. Then, he turns to May.

“You can’t say those things in front of Peter” he argues. “He’s gonna think I’m some kind of monster that it’s gonna eat him at night”

“He already thinks that. Why do you think he wanted to spend the night with us in the hotel instead of going with you? Peter is afraid. The only memories he has with his father are you sitting on a couch drinking, hiding in the lab or giving him away to nannies” May points a shaky finger at him. “He spent the whole night crying and sobbing, but when he comes here, he tries to hide it so you don’t see him. Trust me when I say he knows where he’s going”

“And what am I supposed to do? If he hates me so much, then maybe you should take him!”

There is a second of silence in the lonely cemetery.

“Peter doesn’t hate you, Tony. He thinks you don’t want him” she says sadly, and Tony thinks he preferred the idea of Peter hating him. “All he knows is a cold man with a hard face, that didn’t make an effort to love him when he went to see you”

“I really don’t know how to fix that, May” he admits. He realises his own eyes are getting misty behind the glasses, but he doesn’t feel strong enough to wipe them. He only wants to go back home and lock himself in the lab with a bottle of whisky, maybe two.

“You and I both know you love him. You did things wrong, but so did Mary. So just – show him you love him, now. Consider this your chance to be a father to Peter, a real father”

May surprises Tony by dragging him into her arms, and he goes rigid. He doesn’t like behind handed things, he doesn’t like shaking people’s hands, he doesn’t like touching anyone and doesn’t like being touched unless it’s Pepper. He has ignored Rhodey’s calls and Happy attempt to comfort him, because he knew that no matter how much he hated physical touch, he would break down.

So, Tony breaks down in sobs, and hugs May Parker back. The woman is tall but skinny, yet is almost as strong as Tony. It’s the touch he needs, because it manages to keep him together. Tony thinks of Mary, of how beautiful everything was before he fucked up and she left, pregnant without knowing. He thinks of her sweet smile and dimples, of her brown curls that fell loose on her back. And he sees her in the boy in the car, in the way he pretends to be collected but wears his heart on his sleeve.

A raindrop hit him on the nose, and when he looks up, he’s met with another on his left glass. He tears away from May who doesn’t bother wiping the tears away from her cheeks. They share a short nod and a few words, then Tony walks towards the car. He tries to make the small distance to it as long as possible, because he doesn’t want to meet the doe, bambi eyes that will stare at him in the car.

Because Peter does that a lot – staring at Tony. Not talking, not smiling. Staring at Tony as if he’s looking for something that he doesn’t have. That’s part of the reason why he avoids the boy so much, because if he can’t be what Peter needs, then what good can he make?

Apparently, he’s about to find out.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

#peter parker #Irondad and Spiderson #irondad fic #irondad #irondad imagine #spiderson and irondad #iron dad #iron dad imagine #iron dad fic #iron dad series #tony stark #tom holland #rdj #Avengers

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zeroraisedtozero · 3 years ago

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Sham Ka Waqt

6 PM, Monday.

Having finished my coaching class in Borivali, a small suburban town in the metropolitan city of Mumbai, I headed for my next class in Malad, another suburban town in the city. This time, instead of hailing an Ola or an Uber cab, I desired to travel by Metro rail which had started plying the route only a few days back. I was pretty excited to be enjoying my maiden journey on the said route. Saving a couple of hundred bucks by traveling in this mode only added to the excitement.

I boarded the train from the station named Devipada. Contrary to my fear that the train would be madly crowded given that my travel time was in the rush hours of the day in a city like Mumbai, the train turned out to be, quite pleasantly, very thinly occupied. The compartment was full of streams of vacant seats each of which stared at me invitingly, but I looked for one that would be decently away from all the fellow travelers even though they were sparsely seated. Just a couple of glances left and right and I could spot one which was one of the two-seaters benches in the far corner much away from the gazes of others. I walked leisurely to that corner and happily settled myself on the seat. The AC inside was pleasantly mild and soothing.

Hardly had I made myself comfortable in the solitude of that corner, when a fellow passenger emerged from nowhere and sat right next to me, leaving all those seats lying vacant in the compartment. Even though he was rightfully occupying a seat, I found that to be a bit encroaching upon my chosen solitariness.

This sudden uninvited guest, immediately after becoming my neighbor, turned towards me, “Sir, can you please help me identify with the train’s reaching the station Kurar”. I felt a bit perplexed at this request of his, as I found the PA system and the indicator panel in the compartment to be working perfectly fine. This unexpected request naturally elicited a curt reply from me, “Oh sure!!”. I was feeling a bit uneasy and thinking of settling elsewhere when he further intruded,

“Sir, if you don’t mind, may I ask you something”?

“Yes, please”

“Sir, can you please suggest where can I get an apartment to live in the city?”

Without pausing to listen to my reaction, he continued, “actually sir, I am an actor and new to the place, I mean new in this area and don’t know where should I search for a place for myself. Sir, the price of the flat is not the issue, I need a decent place and one of my own choices. The area of the flat should be good enough to lead a decent life….” While he was narrating his list of requirements before me, I was looking at him surprisingly as well as inquisitively, trying to size up his overall personality at the moment.

The man seemed to be in his mid-fifties and was thinly built. His face was somewhat jaundiced but the tinge of honesty in his eyes had not faded. He seemed quite energetic from the suddenness with which he appeared next to me. He was plainly dressed in his shirt untucked and trousers un-ironed. He was in his slippers which were a bit old and frayed at the sides. He was holding a cloth bag which was not very clean and carried a few patches on itself. In toto, he looked financially challenged and a disturbed gentleman.

I dropped the plan of moving on to another seat and started getting engaged in his conversation. After listening to his requirements, instead of discussing that, I asked about his native place as he was speaking flawless Hindi. Not only about his place, but he also started giving the account of his complete family background.

“Sir, I am from Delhi. My name is Rajkumar.”

“Rajkumar what?... I mean your surname?”

“Sir, Rajkumar is the only name I am known in my circle. My surname is Sharma though”

“ok”

“My father’s name is Balraj Sahni”

“Sahni?? It should be Sharma no?”

“True, but he is known as Balraj Sahni”

“Why is that so”

“His name is Balraj Sharma but popularly known as Balraj Sahni. He retired as a brigadier from the force. He is very daring and caring. I am also very daring. I never compromise in the roles I bag in a movie. Right now, also I am coming from a shoot and I denied to bow to the director’s crazy demands. The unit warned me that I would lose the role. I also told them very categorically that, I don’t care about losing any roles. I would do it on my terms. I am, you know, like the hero Rajkumar and I don’t fear anybody. See, I am already 60 years old and still, I am so fit. My dad has no problem spending a good amount in a flat. He can spend up to 2 crores”

His talks were going on and on…when I suddenly realized that his stop has arrived. I wanted to spend some more time with him, but dutifully, I indicated the arrival of his destination.

Thanking me, he deboarded the train quickly displaying once again his fitness and the energy in his balanced gait and body movement.

After he left, I found a paradigm shift in my feeling towards him: from detesting his unwelcome proximity to me to pitying his condition. What would have disturbed him so badly? Perhaps his not being able to come out of his glorious past? He had come to the city of Bollywood in his heydays as he divulged this also in his discourse. All these years he has been struggling to get a foothold in the city of casualties, but yet not successful? Has he been abandoned by his family? His introduction about himself and his father suggested that his past seemed to be connected to the blockbuster “Waqt” starring Balaraj Sahni who played the role of Rajkumar’s father in the movie.

I was engrossed in such thoughts of reaching some conclusion about him when I realized that my stop also has arrived. I deboarded the train and headed towards the exit to catch an autorickshaw. I boarded one and started thinking about the flow of the lecture to be delivered in my next class.

When I reached my destination, a sudden thought of him flashed through me…The unfortunate guy is still trapped in his old “waqt. With this conclusion, I got out of the rickshaw and found myself to be looking casually at the setting sun on the far horizon that was visible through the narrow gap of the skyscrapers...

It has always been a feeling of gloom viewing the setting sun…with the never-ending hope of its rising again…

...May God bless Him…

#everyday #life #short stories #mumbai

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triviareads · 4 years ago

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The Becoming of Charlotte Bridgerton (And the Continuous Outrage of Anthony Bridgerton)

For Kate and Anthony 2021 Week, Day 6 Prompt: "Make me".

The Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton prided themselves on being excellent hosts. Bridgerton House was forever teeming with friends and family during the season, and as their children grew older, their home became a veritable haven for the young people-

A haven Kate presently found herself eavesdropping on along with her very irritated husband.

To be fair, it wasn’t exactly her fault. She was looking for Charlotte and could not find her anywhere in the house. Somewhere along the way, she had run into Anthony who also looking for their daughter (presumably to gift her with yet another expensive bauble, Kate thought, rolling her eyes. Anthony always did dote on the girls).

After exhausting themselves, Kate struck upon the idea of looking in the library, where Miles was entertaining. Her hunch proved right when the Lord and Lady Bridgerton peeked through the shelves to see Miles, his cousins David, the Earl Clyvedon, and Lady Caroline Findlay-Watt; as well as Mr. Arthur Granville, James De Courcy, the Earl of Clairmont; and Charlotte, sitting right there with the rest of them, taking part spiritedly in their conversation as if such behavior was perfectly normal for a girl who had barely completed two seasons.

“What is she doing with Miles's friends?” Anthony whispered after a requisite scandalized gasp.

“Talking, I believe,” Kate said wryly, choosing wisely to ignore the fact that their daughter had helped herself to a finger of whisky.

“But she is alone! In a roomful of young men!” Anthony spluttered and moved to rush forward in what Kate assumed was a bid to rescue his sweet, innocent daughter from the clutches of these men (and Caroline).

“My dear,” Kate said, restraining him, “both Miles and David are there, and Caroline is chaperoning her.”

Anthony threw her a dry look. “This is Caroline we are speaking of.”

Kate was privately inclined to agree that perhaps Lady Caroline Findlay-Watt (formerly Lady Caroline Basset) was not the best chaperone in that she was far too permissive and her circles ran too liberal.

Nevertheless, Kate shushed her husband. “I want to see what our daughter has to say. We so rarely get to see her among her peers.”

It was true- what their eldest daughter did with her time ever since she debuted was something of a mystery. Of course, she attended the requisite balls and other events with Kate, but Charlotte was all too happy to be taken around by her older, married Hastings cousins, something Kate was secretly thankful for, because she knew they would give her the sort of social advantage even Kate could not offer her daughter.

Anthony grumblingly agreed to Kate’s command and fell silent.

“-All shoring up for it,” David was telling the group seriously. “I do want to remain optimistic, but as Lady Holland recently put it, it is no longer a matter of if, but when.”

He then turned to Charlotte, who was too busy staring at Lord Clairmont, and had to be called on repeatedly to elicit any response. Kate glanced at Clairmont, long-limbed and elegant, taking note of how his posture was subtly inclined towards her daughter.

Charlotte was eventually pulled away from her thoughts. “What?” she blinked and asked. “Oh yes, I agree- this government will fall.”

David cackled at this. “Good lord, Charlotte. You sound positively Jacobin when you say it like that.”

“One would think your namesake was Mademoiselle Corday and not the late queen,” Miles teased his sister.

Charlotte, who always took great pleasure in extending a joke, said wryly, “I suppose we’ll only truly know if I ever feel an inclination to assassinate any of you in your bathtub.” This roused a hearty laugh from the group.

Anthony snorted quietly.

Clairmont, who had been silent up until that point, spoke. “I should like to hear what Miss Bridgerton has to say on the matter.” He looked directly at Charlotte who, to Kate’s amusement, blushed ever so slightly. Kate wondered whether the blush was due to the pleasure of having her opinion asked after, or if it was something else entirely…

Kate had her suspicions.

Charlotte spoke. “I know David mentioned the current financial crisis, but I recall someone recently mentioning that the the Jamaica Bill was something of a turning point. Ever since then, all I seem to read in the papers is how tenuous a coalition the current government is comprised of.” Charlotte shrugged and concluded, “I suppose it’s easy to overlook because the bill ultimately passed, and the Whigs did remain in power, though no thanks to Parliament itself.”

Kate glanced at Anthony after this little speech, and to her amusement, she could tell he was riveted.

“Ah, the crisis of Her Majesty’s bedchamber!” Miles said spiritedly. “The only reason the Whigs prevailed!”

Charlotte rolled her eyes at her brother. “Crisis of the bedchamber- you make it sound far more tawdry than it really was, Miles.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to say that, cousin,” Lady Caroline said mischievously. “I can say with confidence that Amelia’s father-in-law had a public temper tantrum at the Lords when the news emerged that Amelia would not, after all, be one of the queen’s new ladies.”

Mr. Granville asked, “Lady Lowestoft’s father-in-law is… the Earl of Norwich, I think?”

Caroline nodded. “Yes. From my understanding, he lobbied Sir Robert rather hard for Amelia’s position.”

“And Amelia was crushed by the outcome, I’m sure,” David said sarcastically to his sister.

Caroline smirked, “Hardly. Now Norwich on the other hand…”

Lord Clairmont said emphatically, “I have seen that man enough in the Lords to understand exactly what you mean, Lady Caroline.”

“And would you account for Lord Norwich’s poor behavior on the account of some personality deficit, or merely the fact that he is a Tory?”

“A combination of both, my lady,” Clairmont assured her, to everyone’s amusement.

“Norwich was always a bit of a prig,” Anthony muttered to Kate.

Miles, eager to give his opinion on the matter, spoke. “I suppose that whole fracas can ultimately be attributed to Her Majesty’s unwillingness to back down rather than the strength of any one political party.”

“But even that is wholly political, Bridgerton,” Clairmont argued. “Did Melbourne not purposely provide the queen with Whig intimates so she could grow close to them and come to rely on them?”

Miles shrugged. “The queen still could have disliked them. It is hardly Melbourne’s fault if they genuinely grew to become her confidantes.”

“And I should think that you would be the last person to complain about such a thing, Clairmont,” Granville pointed out.

Clairmont grinned. “Oh believe me Granville, I’m not complaining.”

“I thought it was rather admirable for the queen to stand her ground on the matter,” Caroline opined. “One forgets that despite all her grand titles, she is still a woman of one-and-twenty who is being advised by men thrice her age.”

Charlotte smiled at her cousin. “I agree. By all accounts, Her Majesty has proven herself to be quite set in her ways, which is rather impressive.”

“Stubborn could be another way to put it,” Miles teased his sister, who pulled a face at him.

Kate stifled a laugh. Despite their ages, her children could reliably be counted upon to torment one another in little ways.

“Was the queen always like that, Caro?” David turned to his sister and asked. “Weren’t you invited to socialize with her some years ago?”

Caroline laughed. “I’m the last person you should ask, David. The Duchess of Kent nearly booted me out of the princess’s twelfth birthday party because I was too high-spirited and steered her daughter clear of me the entire time. Charlotte, on the other hand, was a perfect angel and played dollies with Princess Victoria for a quarter-hour while the rest of us watched enviously.”

“You remember that?” Charlotte asked delightedly. “All I can recall is the duchess staring disapprovingly at the lot of us- that and the cake.” She said in an afterthought, “To be fair, I was only nine.”

“I’ve heard rumors that the Duchess of Kent had some whiggish sympathies,” Lord Clairmont said thoughtfully. “I wonder if the queen showed any such inclinations early on?” He towards Charlotte.

Charlotte laughed, high and bright. “What would you like me to say, my lord? That the Princess Victoria showed some affection towards little Frances Cowper at her birthday party and therefore was converted to our Whig cause for life?”

“Our cause?” Anthony raised his brows towards Kate. “Did our daughter suddenly decide on a political affiliation?”

Kate shrugged, somewhat confused at so partisan a statement coming from her daughter.

Lord Clairmont chuckled, knowing he had been routed by Charlotte, though in a thoroughly charming manner. He grinned at her and said, “I wouldn't put that past Lady Cowper- pardon, Lady Palmerston. I still forget she remarried.”

"You might be the only person in all of England who still makes that mistake, sir," Charlotte told Clairmont dryly, "for the rest of us have been calling her Lady Palmerston for years."

The room roared with laughter at this.

Kate’s jaw dropped at so ribald a joke coming from her daughter- however artfully it was said.

Anthony choked and very badly attempted to stifle his coughing. “Good God!” He spluttered in an undertone. “I ought to go out there and trounce-”

Kate broke in sharply, “-No you will not- For heaven’s sake, show some restraint, Anthony!”

“Restraint?” Anthony repeated belligerently, and then said with a defiant gleam in his eye, “Make me.”

Kate gave him a lethal smile, fairly certain she knew what sort of persuasions her husband was open to, but she would not give him that satisfaction- not yet, at least.

“Oh I have no doubt I can,” Kate smirked. “For example, what if I told you I expect there to be an understanding reached between Charlotte and Lord Clairmont any day now?”

Anthony’s eyes widened to an almost comical extent and he gawped at his wife. “What?” he hissed. “How could you possibly know this?” His gaze flickered between Charlotte and Clairmont, as if were attempting to make out some visible attachment between the two unsuspecting young people.

“Because I am her mother,” Kate said, looking very smug. “And she told me herself, in other words.”

“She never told me,” Anthony said petulantly.

Kate raised her hand to pat his cheek in a conciliatory manner. “My dear, she knows you too well in that you are hardly tact personified.”

“But that Clairmont fellow!” Anthony whispered, glancing back at the man in question. “He’s so… staid.”

“I think she rather likes him for it,” Kate said thoughtfully, watching as Clairmont continued to be rather sweetly solicitous of Charlotte and her opinions.

And then, purely to torment her husband, she said, “Keep your schedule open, Lord Bridgerton. I would not be surprised if the earl comes to call on you shortly, if this little conversation is anything to go by.”

Anthony growled, broke free of Kate’s grasp, and before she could do anything, he strode forward.

#kateandanthonyweek #kateandanthonyweek21 #Bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #kathony #bridgerton fanfiction #miles bridgerton #charlotte bridgerton #david basset #caroline basset #victorian era #british politics #dadthony

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the-broken-truth · 4 years ago

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The Queen’s Claim Part 1 - Kamilah Sayeed x Roxanne Wolf (Bloodbound MC)

Summary: Roxanne is - just as her surname - a lone wolf; she keeps her friend circle small and doesn’t trust anyone but that doesn’t mean she won’t have a little fun every now and then to relief stress from her job at Raines Corporation. But what happens when she finds out that her latest one night stand was with Kamilah Sayeed - CEO of Ahmanet Financial & her boss’s closest friend? And not just that - What happens when Roxanne learns of Kamilah’s Claim to her? After all - The Queen Doesn’t Share.

Warning: Futa MC - Don't Like Then Please Don't Read.

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Roxanne groaned as she reached from under her blankets and reached for the ringing touchscreen phone that rested on her nightstand to the left of her bed. Once it was in her grasp, she lifted her aching head before opening one eye to look at the contact of the person who was calling her on her day off; while she was having a massive fucking hangover.

Calling: Adrian Raines

'Why is Mr. Raines calling me on my day off?' Roxanne growled in her mind before she accepted the call on the 4th ring, placing the phone to ear but making sure her cheek didn't touch the screen.

"Hello?" Roxanne asked in a very tired and slurred voice.

"Good morning, Roxanne. I apologize for waking you up on your day off but I am in dire need of your help at the moment." Mr. Raines greeted her.

"What can I help you with, Mr. Raines?" Roxanne asked after she cleared her throat to speak clearly to her boss.

"The Assistant that was supposed to work today had a sudden emergency and called in at the last minute and I need help with the meeting I have with the CEO of Ahmanet Financial & a few others today. Can you please come in for the duration of the meeting? I'll pay you for your time." Mr. Raines explained. As much as she wanted to remain in bed and sleep away from her hangover, she knew she could use the extra money.

"Of course, Mr. Raines. I can be there in 30 minutes. There just one problem, I don't have any professional attire to wear for the time I'm there." Roxanne explained.

"That's quite alright, Roxanne. You won't be working the entire day so you can come in classic attire if that's better. I will see you in 30 minutes." With that, Adrian hung up on his end.

Roxanne sat up in her bed, causing her long back hair to fall in front of her face. She moves her black locks from her eyes - letting them adjust to the sunlight - before she got out of bed and started getting ready: she took a quick shower, got dressed in her black jeans, white t-shirt with a tribal wolf howling over her heart, her black boots, and her black leather jacket with metal spikes on her shoulders. She watched herself in the mirror as she tied her hair in a bun on the top of her head. Opening the cabinet, she took two hangover relief pills before she walked back to her nightstand to get her phone and her car keys, leaving her bedroom; only to run into her roommate and best friend - Lily Spencer - in the living room.

"Hey, Roxy Wolf! Where you off to in such a hurry?" Lily asked as she looked up from her game.

"My boss called and asked me to come in to help with a meeting with some big-time CEOs or council members since the assistant that was supposed to help today didn't come in." Roxanne said as she looked at her purple-haired friend.

"Anyway, what happened last night? I thought you went out drinking." Lily asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I did. Had a little fun and came back home." Roxanne said.

"Damn - Roxy Wolf Strikes Again! Breaking hearts and minds with her incredible dick game!" Lily announced.

"Damn it, Lily. You didn't have to say that." Roxanne said through locked teeth.

"It's not my fault you have more one-night stands than you do leather jackets. Honestly, you should be careful; not every girl is going to accept you hitting and quitting them." Lily warned.

"You tell me that every time, I'm always careful. I don't do love - I just need stress relief from time to time." Roxanne said as she made her way to the door. She bid Lily goodbye before she left her apartment.

[About 25 Minutes Later]

Roxanne made it through the doors of Raines Corporation with five minutes to spares; that was a small victory in her mind. She smiled to herself as she stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to the meeting floor. After the ride up, Roxanne plopped a mint in her mouth in hopes to remove any trace of alcohol from her breath; once she was certain that there was none, she stepped over to the large white double doors and knocked firmly but respectively upon the wooden surface.

"Who is it?" The voice of Adrian Raines called out from the other side.

"It's Roxanne, Mr. Raines." Roxanne answered in a clear voice. She waited for a while until the door open and the smiling face of Adrian Raines appeared in the threshold.

"Roxanne, thanks again for this. Please, come in a meet the other Council Members." Adrian said as he moved aside and allowed Roxanne to come into the room behind him where 5 other people were waiting.

"Roxanne - I would like you to meet the Council." He began as he gestured to the closest person to him. "This is Adam Vega - He is the U.S. Senate." Adrian explained as he gestured at a tall tan man with black hair gelled back with a matching goatee in a tan suit with a white undershirt.

"Pleased to meet you, Sir." Roxanne said with a respectful bow of her head.

"Pleasure is mine, Ms. Wolf. Adrian speaks highly of you and I can see why seeing as you arrived here earlier than you were expected." Adam said with a small smile upon his face. Adrian continued with the introductions.

"This is Cecil Romano IV - also known as the Baron. He's the Owner of the Shrike and has much influence in the community." Adrian said as he pointed at a rather fat man in a purple suit with vertical white lines, a grey vest with a white undershirt, and a blue tie. He had grey hair with a mustache - for some reason, the more Roxanne looked at him, all she saw was a fat mafia boss that ate too much pasta for dinner...and breakfast.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Romano." Roxanne said, biting her tongue in hopes to not laugh at this fat man.

"Hmph." That was all he said - maybe his throat was too clogged with pasta sauce to give a proper introduction. Adrian moved on.

"This is Lester Castellanos - The CEO of Castellanos Meats." Adrian introduced the man - He has brown skin and brown eyes. He has black curly hair and a beard that is graying. He wears a beige business suit with a white shirt underneath. Something about him made Roxanne's blood curl.

"Hello, Mr. Castellanos." Roxanne began, only to be cut off by the laughter of this weird man.

"Please, call me Lester. Or Daddy. Whichever you prefer." Lester gave his best 'gentleman' smile but all he looked like was a pedo.

"I...don't think I will be calling you either." Roxanne said as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"And why not, sweetie?" Lester asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Because I'm pretty sure I have more girls calling me 'Daddy' than you do." Roxanne said with a smirk; making everyone else in the room chuckle at what she said but Lester just looked confused.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked but before Roxanne could answer, a slim light brown hand got in Lester's face and pushed him away from Roxanne as a rather alluring female voice called out.

"It means she has a bigger dick than yours, Lester. I know I can see it." A woman with light brown skin, long, wavy, dark brown hair, and brown eyes said as she looked into Roxanne's silver eyes - this woman...she was dangerous, in both a good and bad way.

"Nice to meet you, Sexy. I'm Priya Lacroix - I'm a world-class fashion designer. I'm sure you've heard of me." Priya asked with a voice a smooth as honey but as sharp as a dagger's edge but Roxanne just looked into her eyes with a smirk as she took Priya's hand into hers and brought it to her lips.

"That I have, Ms. Lacroix. Only a fool would not know you." Roxanne smirked as she placed a kiss on the back of Priya's hand, making the woman smile even wider.

"I like you and I'd like to get to know you better, once this meeting is over and done with." Priya purred as her hand turned upright in Roxanne's hand, her nails grazing under to black-haired woman's chin with the most dangerous of touches. Before Roxanne could speak, another voice rang out into the air.

"Get your hands off her, Priya." This voice was angry...offended...and...

'Familiar? Where have I heard that voice before?' Roxanne asked herself as she looked in the direction of the voice - her eyes widened as they met familiar brown eyes.

The woman that stood before them was around 5'3'' - She had light brown skin, straight brown hair, and brown eyes. She wore a purple jacket over a white shirt, dark purple pants, and a necklace - That necklace was one that Roxanne had seen before.

"Geez, Kamilah. What's wrong with you?" Adrian asked. Before turning back to Roxanne. "Oh, Roxanne. This is Kamilah Sayeed - She's the CEO of Ahmanet Financial & my closest friend." Adrian smiled but the horrified look on Roxanne's face made him look worried. "Roxanne, is something wrong?" He asked.

"She knows who I am, Adrian." Kamilah said as she began walking closer to Roxanne while Priya moved away to get a better look.

"She does?" Adrian asked. "How?"

"Because..." The intimidating Egyptian CEO looked down the into wide silver eyes of Roxanne, who could have sworn the eyes of the woman before her were turning red. " She shared my bed last night...and I claimed her body." Kamilah said with a dangerous smirk on her face. Everyone looked shocked at this information - except Priya, she looked pissed. While all this was going on, all Roxanne could think was...

'MY LAST ONE-NIGHT STAND WAS MY BOSS'S FRIEND?!! WAIT...WHAT DID SHE MEAN WHEN SHE SAID SHE CLAIMED ME?!!'

"So..." Kamilah began as she leaned in closer to Roxanne's ear. " Did you really think that I would let you get away from me?" She purred as the tip of her tongue grazed the shell of Roxanne's ear, making her shutter.

'Ah, shit. Lily was right...I'm in trouble.'

[End of Part One - To Be Continued]

#kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #bloodbound

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realm-sweet-realm · 3 years ago

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A Worthwhile Investment, chapter 3

Please enjoy this Grant x Shawn story. Yes, I split it into two short chapters. Apparently I can’t be succinct with these two... hopefully I made the right choice!

Next is Thomas x Allison!

Time went by. The studio worsened in most respects. Though its installation was nothing out of the ordinary, it felt as though the ink machine was creeping through the halls, its long pipes growing into new areas. Wherever it went, it left the scent of sickly rubber ink and stained through the walls, like a creeping, musty black mold. That alone would have brought down morale, but it was nothing compared to the financial crisis. Every department was operating on a slashed budget, and yet Joey refused to lower his demands on any of them. Whenever someone quit out of anger, there was relief- it meant that those who remained would be less likely to be laid off. The studio was a rotting body, ravaged by the parasite of the ink machine and struggling to move its massive weight now that so many of its workers were gone.

Grant was not handling it well. His department understood that it the studio’s financial problems weren’t his fault, but he didn’t blame anyone else for hating the man who had decided how much to slash their budget, or who told them, while they were already underpaid, that their paycheck would be late because there simply was no money to pay them. It was his job to prevent this from happening. But with Joey spending more and more on Bendyland and the ink machine, and refusing to downsize anything when it was really overdue to do so, it was proving impossible. It was soul-crushing.

Things weren’t easy on Shawn, either. Fewer staff for the same amount of plushes meant having to work longer and faster, and making plushes out of cheaper materials meant that there was less room for error before the cheap, delicate things they’d been reduced to selling simply fell apart. Shawn was getting screamed at more than usual nowadays.

At least they had each other. During better times, their relationship had been on and off. There were periods when one of them just couldn’t handle the other’s issues or couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, and they’d break up, only to get back together after a while. Shawn had even dated other people during their temporary breaks. Neither of them were especially serious about their relationship, so it worked for them. Now, they were together for the foreseeable future. There was little time or energy for romance anymore, but they stole the moments they could and hoped that things would eventually improve. Shawn had even moved into Grant’s house at the time. This was good for both of them- living with someone else made things easier domestically during this busy time, and it was good to come home from a difficult day at work and meet up with someone who loved you and brightened your mood.

“Ah think we should quit,” Shawn said one day over dinner. “None-a this is healthy. I’m sick of it, you certainly ain’t yourself, and anyhow, yer always saying the company won’t last another year.” Shawn saw Grant hesitate. “Well, Ah’m quitting. Join me or don’t, Ah don’t care.”

“I have a feeling that things will improve once Bendyland opens. It’s supposed to open in three months,” well, it was supposed to open over a year ago, but hopefully they could reach the new deadline, “so, let’s see where the studio is in five months. If we’re not having a much better time at work by then, let’s do it. Or you can quit sooner- please, don’t let me hold you back. But that’s when I’m doing it.”

“Five months sounds great! I’ll mark it on the calendar. To a chance at a better life!”

Grant forced a smile. “To a chance at a better life.” He honestly wished Shawn would just quit so that he didn’t feel like he was holding him back.

There were a few reasons that Grant didn’t want to quit. It wasn’t about money (he had some saved up), or fear that he couldn’t get another job (he had the experience to land another). Mostly, it was about pride. Grant might be the financial manager of a failing massive company, but still, he was the finances manager of a massive company- with a department working under him and his own secretary. This could be the highest-profile job he would ever have. He also worried that the next job would be just as miserable. He recognized, though, that he couldn’t stay in an awful work environment for those reasons, let alone keep Shawn in one. And no matter what, the studio would be dead in a few years, so he’d have to leave it eventually. And heck- maybe Shawn was right. Maybe it would be better.

---

It was while Grant was walking down one of the Joey Drew Studios hallways that it happened, though it had seemed rather insignificant at the time. A burly, blond GENT worker deliberately loosened a bolt on one of the ink pipes as he passed, spraying a cloud of ink fumes into his face.

“That’s for getting my buddy laid off,” the man grumbled as Grant coughed on the fumes.

“Hey!” another GENT worker, shouted, “pull another stunt like that, and you’ll be the one leaving for good!” The GENT worker ran over to Grant. “You alright, sir? I can pay for the dry cleaning if you want.”

“Don’t bother,” Grant snapped, “just teach your men some respect.”

Grant looked down at his thoroughly stained suit and dress shirt and weighed whether to arrive at his next meeting late or drenched. He decided on the former and turned for the exit. As he left, he heard one of the GENT men telling the other, “that’s how you get our budget cut even more!” It was rather strange to be such a frightening creature nowadays.

By evening, Grant was feeling sick- as though he had a flu coming on. He spent a few days laying around before returning to work, feeling just as badly. He couldn’t afford more time off if he didn’t want to end up entirely buried by work. Shawn was mildly concerned when it was a few weeks in and the illness didn’t seem to be going away- and that Grant was intent on working through it- but all he could do was support Grant through it and give him the space he needed. Even in the beginning, it was extremely frustrating that his boyfriend was suffering and unable to do much of anything outside of work, but to an extent it was nothing Shawn wasn’t used to- Grant had had bouts of depression nearly as bad as this. As time went on, Shawn noticed some more disturbing changes.

It was about two weeks in that the voice emerged and the hallucinations began. Grant had been in his office when he’d heard a pained scream- seemingly from right outside of it. He rushed out, expecting to see an injured person or an emergency of some sort. Instead, he found only his secretary, perfectly calm and looking at him as though he was an alien. “Do you know where that came from?” Grant asked.

“Where what came from?” Oh, that judgmental stare.

“The scream? You heard the scream, right?”

“No.”

Grant cringed and closed the door to his office.

The headaches, the brain fog, the fatigue, and now the hallucinations, a voice said. It was a voice that sounded as real as the scream had, but it wasn’t one he’d heard before. Do you want to know what’s causing it? There was a pause, as though Grant would answer and let his secretary think even worse of him. You’re losing your mind. You know what they do with crazy people, right? An image of an electric chair flashed through Grant’s mind, followed by an image of locked insane asylum doors and tools used for a lobotomy. Just carry on. Try to act normal, and don’t let anyone know about this. I’ll be here when you need me. Grant sat back down at his desk, taking a look around the room as though he could find where the voice was coming from. Finding nothing, he returned to his paperwork.

A few weeks later, Grant decided to coax some answers from the voice. It was absurd- if it was right, and it probably was, the voice came from him, and couldn’t know anything he didn’t. But he had few options. His symptoms were becoming glaringly obvious. Shawn had noticed that he was spacing out during conversations, and his department was noticing that he couldn’t keep track of time and was making mathematical errors he never would have before. Shawn had even seen him react to hallucinations a couple times, and it frightened him. Grant knew he needed to figure this out before it hurt his professional life, or hurt his relationship any further.

It was a cold winter’s night. Grant returned home after work- thankfully Shawn wasn’t home yet- and went to his room to interrogate.

“Alright,” he said, facing the wall. “Tell me what I have. If there’s a way to fix it, I’m going to.”

Shawn had been unable to sleep that night, so he heard Grant’s voice. It didn’t bother him, though, until Grant started yelling. Shawn got up and went to investigate. The house was totally dark except for the light coming from Grant’s room. Shawn creaked open the door. Grant was facing a wall, shifting his weight as though he might spring on his invisible adversary if it proved necessary.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #shawn x grant #shawn flynn #grant cohen #my fanfiction

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stormcallart-blog · 4 years ago

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|| A Sliver of Moonlight ||

Life is pretty boring serving for the slowly decaying villa in the countryside in Toussaint. It's when a Witcher comes clamoring into your life that it all changes. Grabbing a few herbs from the city shouldn’t be that bad, right?

Geralt x Reader, Mature content: depictions of injury, gore, violence, animal death, unresolved sexual tension.

This is based off of the Witcher 3 DLC, but no real spoilers! I just love the vibe of it so much. Tbh this is old, wrote it about a year ago but love it so much that I thought I’d post it. Not too sure if I’d do another chapter, but maybe if the mood strikes!

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The estate known as Corvo Bianco Vineyard had been your home since you could remember. Your parents had grown tired of the cold in Skellige when you were but a babe and had made the journey to the endless heat and beautiful landscapes of Toussant. Years had come and gone and with those years so did the owners of the Vineyard. You went from plucking grapes to planting olive trees to tending the grounds as the owners made one financial mistake after another. Where once was beautiful herb gardens there was now only crumbling leaves and rotting wood, the stables were now empty and the once beautiful main house began to peel and fall apart. The last owner had dumped all his coin into just keeping the Vineyard afloat and when he couldn’t anymore handed it off to the Duchess, who luckily saw it fit enough to still need the workers.

No longer needed for picking the Vineyard stock you were tasked to look for herbs for the cooking staff. Even with spending most of your days in the sweltering summer heat searching for various herbs you were thankful, especially since you had gained a new found interest in Alchemy. How a certain concoction could heal wounds or cure illnesses fascinated you to no end and you were desperate for more of that knowledge.

When the whispers of the Beast of Toussant emerged you were hesitant. Whispers of the beast deep in the cellars of Corvo Bianco spiked your interest a little too much. All the workers on the estate stayed far away, sometimes in the night you could hear it scrape its claws against the stone, sending shivers down your spine. Your novice knowledge of alchemical things made it impossible to even research any kind of repellent against the beast, not like it would help since not a soul knew what the beast actually was.

One warm night it came, hissing and slashing through the Duchesses guardsmen as it barreled back into its den as you watched shaking from your chamber. It was terrifying as it moved, slashing and gnawing at the duchesses men as if they were nothing more than paper. All hope seemed lost until a man clad in black with a sword so bright it seemed to hold the moon, silver no doubt, made his way after the monster. His hair as white as his blade and yes, you were sure of it, even from your bedroom there was no mistaking those golden eyes. A Witcher.

Never before had you seen one, your heart leapt at the thought. They were master swordsmen and even better alchemists , expert monster hunters in every way. You had no doubt he would be the one to slay the monster of Toussant .With bated breath you waited for the silver haired man to emerge victorious, tapping your fingers against the windowsill in nervous excitement. Just when you thought maybe the Witcher had fallen prey to the beast a flash of white hair stepped out into the moonlit night once again.

However before you could get a good look at him he was gone from sight, riding off on a dark horse into the warm night air. You sighed, noting the amount of bloodshed and work that awaited the villa in the morning.

That night you tossed and turned, dreams filled with the man they call the Witcher.

After the gorey cleanup you stomached with a handful of other workers the following day, all was quiet. No beast stirred from the depths of the vineyard and it seemed like life would continue just as boring as it had been before you set eyes on that White Wolf.

You heard it from one of the kitchen maids first. A new owner was on their way with the deed to Corvo Bianco! It was hard to remember the last time the estate had ever been governed, which made you both nervous and excited at the same time. Curious of the new owner you wanted to get a good look when they came striding down the street.

Busying yourself with some wild mint that grew from the picket by the road you waited, peering up every few minutes to keep an eye out. The sounds of hooves beating against the stone pulled you from your harvesting as you watched in awe as he neared. The Witcher. The Witcher was head of the estate at Corvo Bianco? Your jaw clenched to keep from hanging as he strode by, yellow cat-like eyes regarding you for merely a second before he continued towards the main house. So it was true!

Your fellow workers were… less enthused about the new owner. Most just scoffed and went about their work, while others tossed around names you’d never heard before but were sure they were not meant endearingly towards the Witcher.

You found him interesting. Knowing very little about them you were less inclined to see them as sub-humans as most others seemed to suggest. If anything he just seemed… exotic. And there was no denying that what you had seen of him so far was attractive.

The smell of fresh mint tickled your nose, peering down to see you’d driven your nails into its soft leaves, pushing the smell into the air. Surely the main quarters kitchen would need some for dinner tonight, a perfect excuse to learn more about the Witcher. The servant entrance was easy enough to slip into, silently greeting the cook who pushed her finger against her lips as you entered. Laughing softly you both listened in.

The Majordomo introduced himself but you weren't prepared for what came next. The deep timbre of the man who spoke nearly knocked you sideways from just a mere greeting. That was definitely … not what you had expected, but not that you were complaining.

The rest was fairly boring conversation which explained the updates needed for the estate to which the Witcher stood silently and listened.

“He’s called the White Wolf.” The cook whispered with a cheeky grin, “ Arrived in Toussaint only a few days ago on orders for the Duchess.”.

“Imelda, you are shameless!” You teased as she smiled, “How do you find this out so quickly?”.

“Advantages of working in the main house kitchen, my dear. ” she said with a wink. “Here child, take this bowl of fruit and set it in the dining room for me , would you?”

Squinting at her smile you took the small bowl of fruit from the table, taking a deep breath before opening the door and stepping into the center room. Walking around you saw the Majordomo first, dark circular glasses facing you. The Witcher had his back towards you, listening as the Majordomo spoke, shoulders square and standing much taller than you first would have thought. His silver hair was shoulder length and lay against the metal chain padding across his broad shoulders. You must’ve been staring because the Majordomo coughed, shocking you out of your daydreaming, prompting the Witcher to turn to see the disturbance.

His golden irises met your own, the slits of his pupils striking as they flared in the firelight. It was impossible to speak while caught in his gaze as he examined you silently. His light brows furrowed , proud nose flaring as he peered down at the fruit bowl you undoubtedly had in a death grip. His grizzled face split into a wry grin as his armored hand reached into the bowl and plucked out an apple. “Thanks.” He spoke flatly, holding the apple up with a slight nod of his head.

You didn’t speak, you couldn’t. You felt trapped, entranced even. Instead you nodded back before hastily placing the bowl down on the dining table.

“I’d like to work on revitalizing the herb garden first.” The deep thrum of the Witcher’s voice bounced off the barren walls. The very mention of the herb garden had you turned on your heels to meet the steely cat-like gaze once again.

The Majordomo nodded excitedly as the Witcher handed over the coin, “That is a good start, sir!” he added in cheerfully, “Y/N here is our closest thing to an herbalist, surely she wouldn’t mind picking up the necessary ingredients.”

The Witcher's creased eyebrows flicked slightly in a mute expression of surprise, “So you know herbs, hm?” his gritty voice almost seemed amused.

“Y-yes.” You spoke finally, a small smirk lined his features, peeking out over a white beard. He let out a chuckle that seemed almost cold, “So tell me then, how does one harvest Ribleaf?”.

The question almost made you laugh. You weren’t professionally trained but certainly not that much of a novice. It surprised even you how confidently the words left your mouth, “Cut from the bottom of the stock, try to pluck or remove from any other point and it’s practically useless.”.

If the Witcher was impressed he was damn good at not showing it. “Very good.” His deep voice bellowed in an even tone, eyes studying you even still. “I’ll leave it to you then.” Was all he managed before he turned for the exit.

Hastily you turned to exit through the kitchen, so caught up in thought you didn’t catch the Witcher’s eyes trail after you as he exited into the sunlight. Imelda was already smiling as you closed the door behind, trying hard not to laugh at your flustered expression, “So? How is the famous White Wolf?” she said lightly, stirring the soup she’d been working on.

“Almost as intimidating as staring down a Gryphon.” You breathed out, mind still reeling from that look. Whatever Imelda said next was lost on you, mind still lingering on the golden irises that seemed to read your mind. Could Witchers read minds? Gods, you hoped not. It was amazing how quickly the workers began tending the Herb Garden as soon as the White Wolf forked over the funds. The Majordomo followed suit and bid the Witcher farewell before the armor-clad warrior mounted his steed and took off into another great adventure no doubt. You heaved a heavy sigh, almost jealous that his life seemed so filled with adrenaline whilst you sat around most days picking ingredients or tending to the ground's needs. The Majordomo turned to you quickly, withdrawing a list from his little notebook, “Ah, there you are! Here is the list. Please go into town and gather these seeds and plants from an Alchemist.” he finished by dropping a good sum of gold into your open palm , eyes widening at the weight in your hand. You had never held so much gold in your life.

“Do you wish for me to go now?” You tried not to sound ungrateful, for any chance to go into town was a welcomed one, but half a day's walk nonetheless.

“Preferably while the day is still young.” He spoke with a high dialect.

“Of course.” You said without a pip of disobedience, you’d walked those roads before and with a knife strapped across your thigh you were confident you could make it there and back.

You grabbed a sizable satchel and placed a good amount of gold in several hidden pockets, just in case. Luckily it was much cooler this morning than it had been all week, the smell of grass and ripening fruit blowing through your tresses as you set off up the hill. The walk to Beauclair was long and uneventful. You stopped briefly here and there to take a break or spotting a herb that was marked on the list , finding it easier to pluck than spend the extra gold for it in town. The Quiet of rolling hills slowly gave away to idle chatter of the city, smells quickly turning sweet to sour, always was a stark contrast to the countryside life. You enjoyed the capitol but the rose-tint seemed to fade quickly while within its walls. Spotting the Alchemists shop sign you weaved in and out of beggars and Duchesses men alike, Rich and poor mingling into a sea of endless faces. There was only one word for the crowds of people, overwhelming.

The shop was a cozy hideaway, empty save for the shopkeeper and her wares. The smell of incense wafted into the air , its smoke crowding at the ceiling, mingling with the earthy smell of plants. Greeting her plainly you read off the list and examined the herbs thoroughly before making a sale, walking back into the late afternoon sun a few gold coins lighter but with quite a sizable workload to haul back. The thought crossed your mind to stop by one of the taverns and have a refresher before returning, with your own coin of course, but you knew if you waited much longer night would fall on your journey back and that’s the last thing you wanted.

All tension faded with the chatter as cobblestone streets gave way to dirt roads and open fields once again. It was nice to breathe without feeling boxed in. Your steps were slower this time, sweat rolling down your temples as the bag seemed to only gain weight with every passing minute. You stopped, pulling the small glass container of water you’d stored away and took a few refreshing gulps before totting the satchel over your shoulders and continued on. At this pace you may not make it back to Corvo Bianco before nightfall and the thought alone made your stomach sink.

It was an arduous journey back home, cursing yourself for picking up a few extra things as the leather strap bit into your shoulder. You guessed you maybe had another hour to go before you could finally unburden yourself, but dusk was nipping at your ankles. Trying to take your mind off the weight you looked out into luscious fields, grateful that the journey had been void of monsters when you saw it. The long stalks of red poking out in a lone field was like an oasis in the desert. Eyes lighting up you stared in disbelief, taking a few extra seconds to confirm what you’d seen. It was Winter Cherry. One of the rarest herbs to come across, something not even the Alchemist shop had in stock. Your heart swelled, remembering the many benefits you’d read not so long ago on your last trip to Beauclaire.

Hoisting the bag higher you set out towards the plant, long blades of grass tickling your ankles and knees, the patch of land long forgotten. You withdrew the blade from your stocking strap, thumbing the blade over the leaves of the rare plant, remembering that the Alchemy book had mentioned it had to be cut from the root or otherwise it would be completely useless.

The blood red petals swayed , knife cutting clean through its roots and you bubbled with pride. This certainly was a treat, a rare find to add to the new herb garden, the Witcher would be undoubtedly impressed. Your excitement was snuffed out in an instant when the blood-curdling howl echoed in the night.

“No.” You whispered, hands beginning to shake as you hastily stuffed the Winter Cherry into the already full satchel, nearly tripping over your own dress as another howl screamed into the now Twilight sky, blade still in hand. “No, no, no!” You continued as you made for the road, as if it was a safe haven from the gathering wolves. The sound of rustling dry grass began to double, triple, before you were keenly aware there was no getting out of this. Heart pounding in your ears you turned, oval eyes reflecting through yellowing foliage as the soft crunch of grass slowed, the animals circling in.

“Come on you bastard.” You growled in your own way back, knowing there was no way out but like hell if you wouldn’t try your best to fight them off. As if responding to your threat the first one lept, jaws snapping and snarling as it went. Dodging to your left it missed your arm by just a hair, the hot breath of the beast tickling the hairs of a limb that could have easily been its next meal.

The next time you weren’t so luckily, the second wolf snapping down hard on the skirt of your dress, yanking you almost completely over as it ripped and tore at the material. Swiping the small blade wildly the animal retreated, eyes still trained on your every movement. Heavy breaths left your dry mouth, adrenaline pumping through every vein as senses heightened. You were going to die.

The third wolf was too quick, coming toward you from the side as you focused on the others. Its Black fur barreled towards you, ferocious teeth biting through your thick dress and into your thigh, ripping a shriek from your throat as it sunk its razor-like teeth into the meat of your leg. You swiped at the wolf, jutting the knife into the scruff of his neck as it whimpered and recoiled, but the damage had been done and now you were merely a game to the hungry canines.

“FUCK OFF!” You howled, which startled them momentarily before the first one jumped you again, pushing you to the ground , shoving your fist into it’s open mouth just in time to keep it from getting a killing blow. Its fangs scrapped at your knuckles, sharp claws digging into your soft skin. A faint sound of a horse barely registered, knowing no matter how proficient the rider, there was no way of saving you. The only thing you could do was take one of the wolves down with you. The wolf atop you bit down, teeth sinking into the flesh of your arm as you let out a pained cry, its pack surprisingly absent. The cries you heard were not your own and soon the wolf that pinned you down with your fist in its mouth seemed dazed, drunk even, eyes glassy as the moon reflected off its dark eyes. It’s jaws relented, your blood now oozing from open wounds. Puzzled at first you seized your only chance, ramming the pathetic blade into the top of its skull, piercing thick pelt and bone. The wolf swayed, eyes rolling back as its blood soaked your hand, pushing it off just before it pooled over your already ruined garments.

Your head was swimming, jolting up as you frantically searched for the other two wolves only to find an empty field and a man.

A man with hair as silver as moonlight.

Adrenaline left your body quickly, eyesight dotting with bright white before fading to black completely.

It was all a blur, the hard motions of a horse galloping faded in and out for you, unconscious to the strong arms that encased you.

You awoke with a start, instead of dry grass beneath your touch there were soft sheets instead. A bed? "Oh, you're awake." The deep rustling voice spoke from the corner , nearly startling you out of the bed. Everything hurt and you peered down at the bandage around your thigh soaked in blood. "How'd i-" you barely managed before the White Wolf intervened, "lucky for you I was on my way back here and heard you off in the distance. Witcher sense does wonders. Have to say you put up quite the fight.". Was that… praise?

"Thank you." You managed, wincing as you sat up against the headboard, "how long was I out?"

He shrugged with heavy shoulders, "Long enough to haul you back here give a few hours or so. It's well past midnight by now. What the hell were you doing in the middle of nowhere at nightfall?" He seemed irritated by that.

You sighed, "getting herbs from the alchemist." You stated plainly, hoping he picked up your satchel, otherwise it would be all for naught. Warmth spreading across your cheeks realizing he had carried you unconsciously and rode all the way back to Corvo Bianco with those large hands around you.

"You won't find an herb shop in a field." He spoke plainly but with just enough sarcasm for your brow to quirk.

"Majordomo sent me into Beauclaire to get supplies for the herb garden you ordered. I found some Winter Cherry in the field and that's when I was attacked by wolves. Was that… a joke?" You should have been more formal, but seeing as you were laying in his bed with half your body bare, it seemed almost pointless to be.

He chuckled, "An attempt at one at least. Witchers have subdued emotions, call it a blessing and a curse." He sat back in the wooden chair he had propped in the corner, " Shame, Winter Cherry is useless unless-"

It was your turn to interrupt "Unless you cut it off at the roots." He looked to you with a hint of a smile.

You gaped, so that's why he seemed so calm and collected. That was definitely something you weren't expecting. "I should have been quicker on the walk back. But I'm glad you were there, otherwise I might've had to kill all those wolves on my own."

He let out a half laugh as did you, Geralt always appreciated a strong woman and you were fastly becoming more and more interesting to him with each passing moment.

"Geralt." He muttered as he stood, metal from his armor clinking and the wood of the house creaking under his shifting weight.

"Hm?" You asked inquisitively as he neared, drawing your legs closer , confused at what he was doing.

"My name." He sat on the edge of the bed, removing his gloves, "I need to check those wounds.".

You nodded, giving him permission to touch you, giving your name with a wince as his large warm hands unbound the bandage around your thigh. You watched Geralt transfixed, breath catching at just how high up his fingers traced since the bite had been dangerously close to your hip. He seemed to feel you tensing at sweeping touches , golden eyes looking up to yours with a muted smirk across such handsome features. "It tickles." You lied and he only let out a small puff of air that hinted at humored before continuing. It was amazing watching a Witcher work. He'd rooted through his belongings finding ingredients for the healing salve without needing any type of recipe. Casually mixing ingredients that, had you attempted, would have surely given you a headache.

"So" your name rolling of his tongue made it hard to concentrate, "you're a bit of an alchemist?" He spoke casually as he transferred the salve into a large bit of wax paper.

"Afraid not, I know but a few things from experiments and what little I've read while in Beauclaire."

Geralt hummed at that, " Well it looks like you'll survive. I've made some salve that'll help heal the bite , but it's only enough for one or two days. Put it on in the evenings and when you run out come back. Maybe then I'll even teach you a trick or two." The last part made your heart leap as he rebandaged your wound, blood now completely stopped. "Thank you for saving my life." You said as you stood, leg in agony but unwilling to show any more sign of weakness.

"I got you into this mess, only fair I should rescue you from it." Geralt replied coolly, eyes transfixed on your heart rate that had thumped harder as you stood. You were in pain but far too stubborn to show it. He liked that about you.

"Goodnight Geralt." "Goodnight. "

You turned to leave, hobbling across the main house stairs and towards your quarters which luckily weren't too far. The plants you'd brought back were already laid on in the garden and you thanked the gods that geralt had brought back the satchel so that your near death had not been for nothing.

Finally in your quarters you bathed and added the salve , teeth clenching at the sting of it sanitizing the wound. You were pretty much asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Dreams emerged from the fog of your mind that night. Large scarred hands gently skating across your legs, pulling up your nightgown forcing a weak whimper from your throat. A deep rustling of a laugh accompanied with cat-like eyes as slightly chapped lips graced your skin. It was heaven , feeling the white beard scrape along your neck, sending you into a moaning fit. "Stop that, you're injured." His voice playfully mocked as you squirmed under him.

…"Geralt" you awoke with his name on your lips. Eyes wide and hand slapped over your mouth you scanned the room. It was bright, so bright. Almost midday by the way the shadows casted along the floor of the small room. The biggest mistake was moving, which nearly had you wailing in pain from the tender wound. Removing the covers it had bled through only a little in the night , of which you were thankful.

When finally dressed and on your way to the main house you waved off concerned workers as you hobbled by, far too tired to give them the entirety of the story of what happened the night before. Instead you stepped into the kitchen and shut the door with an exasperated sigh.

#geralt x reader #the witcher #the witcher 3 #reader insert #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #one shot #maybe??

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btsqualityy · 4 years ago

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Set It Off / Part Three

Jimin x Reader

Genre: Angst, mafia!AU

Warnings: guns, robbing, murder, a minor character (i.e: a member) does pass away in this part so pleaseeeeee, if that makes you uncomfortable, DO NOT read this part!

“Here, take your headsets,” Namjoon instructed as he handed a set to you and Jimin. Today was the morning of the heists, and all of you were at the organization’s headquarters getting ready.

“Hobi and I will be in constant contact with the four of you, giving you updates on the status of security and any police presence,” Yoongi told you and you nodded your head.

“How long do you think you’ll be able to get us inside?” You asked.

“A minute and a half,” Hobi sighed. “Two if we get lucky.”

“Don’t worry hyung, that’ll be more than enough time,” Jungkook smirked as he finished loading one of his guns and cocked it.

“Jungkook, no happy trigger finger,” Namjoon said firmly. “Just get in, get the money and gold bars, and get out.”

“Alright, alright, I hear you,” Jungkook grumbled, and you couldn’t help but to smile at how genuinely disappointed he seemed.

“Jimin, you prepared to help them out in case shit goes left?” Namjoon checked and Jimin nodded, reaching down and lifting up the hem of his shirt to show the two pistols that he had tucked into the waist of his pants.

“Ok. Now, remember Taehyung,” Namjoon said as he turned to him. “You’re going to go in, flirt with the bank teller and get her good and distracted before giving Y/N-ah and Jungkook the go-ahead.”

“I got this hyung,” Taehyung smiled, taking his knife and sliding it into his sheath that was tied to his leg before pulling his pants leg back down.

“Well, I guess there’s nothing else I can tell you guys,” Namjoon sighed heavily and you smiled knowingly at him.

“Don’t worry Joon, we’ll be fine,” you assured him as you finished loading your gun. “In and out.”

“I know,” he smiled back.

“Hey guys, I put a small emergency kit in the car that you’re gonna be using,” Jin announced as he strolled into the room. “So that if something does happen, you’ll be fine until you make it back here to me.”

“Thanks hyung,” Jimin nodded. “Alright guys, let’s load ‘em up!” After saying bye to the guys who would be staying back at headquarters, the four of you went out to the large garage, immediately going towards the Dodge Charger and getting inside.

“Tae, try not to flirt so long this time,” you instructed him as you glanced over your shoulder from your spot in the front seat. “You flirted too long last time.”

“Well, excuse me for being caught off guard at the fact that that security guard was actually cute,” Taehyung pouted. “Too bad Jungkookie here killed her.”

“She was gonna call for back-up, the fuck else was I supposed to do?” Jungkook shot back.

“Enough, you two,” you chuckled. “Focus.” The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, the 10 minute drive to the KB Financial Group building passing all too fast, yet all too slow at the same time.

Jimin pulled up to the front of the building, parking in a spot and unlocking the doors.

“Don’t forget the code phrase,” you reminded Taehyung and he just nodded.

“I got it,” he murmured, reaching over and opening his door before getting out and shutting it behind him. You waited with bated breath as he opened up the front door to the building and walked inside.

“He’s in,” you spoke into your earpiece.

“Great,” Yoongi answered, and you could hear the faint rapid tapping of a keyboard happening on his end. “Me and Hobi are getting the security system down now.”

“Hello,” you could hear Taehyung say through his earpiece. “I’m new in town and I was wondering if you could maybe help me...set up a new account.”

“O-oh,” you heard the bank teller stammer. “Of course Sir.”

“She’s so whipped for him already,” Jungkook snickered.

“It’s Taehyung, would you not be if you were female?” Jimin questioned.

“I am and I’m male,” Hobi laughed, making you smile at his words. A small conversation continued between Taehyung and the bank teller as she detailed all of the ways to open up a new account to him.

“The hell is taking so long Yoongi?” You demanded to know, since it had been well over five minutes since Taehyung had walked into the bank.

“Give me a fucking minute,” he growled back, followed by more rapid typing. “Got it! We’re in!”

“Tae, we’re good on our end,” you muttered into your earpiece.

“You know, you are absolutely gorgeous. Would you like to go out with me sometime?” Taehyung cooed and you knew that he had heard you since he said the code phrase. You and Jungkook quickly gathered your guns, opening your doors before stepping out.

“Be safe baby,” Jimin called behind you, and you turned around to give him a small smile. Jungkook opened the door to the building for you and you walked inside, immediately sneaking up behind the security guard and butting him in the back of the head with your gun, effectively knocking him out.

“Everyone, get on the ground! Now!” Jungkook bellowed and all of the customers slowly lowered themselves onto the ground.

“We don’t want to hurt anyone, so just stay down!” You instructed, slowly moving through the crowd over to the counter, where the safes sat behind it.

“Go ahead,” Taehyung told you, climbing up onto the counter and holding all of the tellers at gun point. “Get the money.”

“Ok,” you nodded, lifting yourself up and hopping over the counter before instantly going over to the safes, which were already open. Pulling out a portable duffel bag, you set your gun on top of the safe and began to pack it with as many stacks of money and as many gold bars as you could. Once that bag was full, you threw it onto the counter next to Taehyung’s feet before proceeding to do the same thing with two more duffel bags.

“Hey, we can only keep the wall down for about 45 more seconds,” Hobi warned the three of you.

“Don’t worry, we’re good,” you assured them, zipping the third duffel bag shut and grabbing your gun before hopping up onto the counter again. “Grab a bag,” you told Taehyung, who nodded and did so, slinging the strap over his body.

“We all good?” Jungkook asked and you nodded, handing him the second bag and watching as he slung it over his body as well.

“We’re moving towards the door, 10 seconds,” you said.

“Doors are open, car’s running,” Jimin replied and you nodded slightly. You couldn’t believe that everything was going off without a hitch, and you started to almost feel foolish for doubting the job so much in the first place.

However, that feeling didn’t last for long.

“Holy shit,” you heard Hobi gasp. “Guys, watch your sides! There’s a security guard there!”

Just as you moved to turn to the side, you saw the exact moment when the bullet hit Taehyung in the chest.

You watched in horror as he immediately fell down to the ground, loud wails of pain coming from his mouth.

“Tae!” You screamed, going over to him and covering his body with yours. “Jk, cover us!”

“Already on it!” He grunted, standing in front of the both of you and shooting towards the security guard’s direction, managing to get a head shot which made the security guard fall over the railing of the upper floor and crash onto the ground of the first floor. However, more guards appeared, returning Jungkook’s fire.

“Jimin, you’re gonna have to come in!” You shouted into the mouth piece. “Tae got hit and Jk’s covering us but I can’t pull him out by myself!”

“Here I come,” Jimin replied instantly and within seconds, he had busted through the doors of the bank, helping Jungkook by taking out a few security guards before he leaned down and picked Taehyung up bridal style. You reached down and grabbed the duffel bag that Taehyung had dropped as well as his gun, before running over and grabbing Jungkook by the back of the shirt.

“Let’s fucking go!” You hollered, making Jungkook follow behind you as the two of you run outside. Jimin had managed to put Taehyung in the backseat so you slid inside with him as Jungkook got into the front passenger seat. As soon as the doors shut, Jimin pulled off, immediately making a u-turn in the middle of the street before heading back towards the organization’s headquarters.

“Hey, you still with me?” You asked Taehyung and he nodded his head slowly. Seeing that he was ok for the moment, you reached down and tore his t-shirt open, a large gasp escaping you involuntarily when you saw how large the gunshot wound was.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Taehyung joked quietly and you couldn’t help but to laugh as tears formed in your eyes.

“No, no, you’re gonna be alright,” you assured him, reaching down and grabbing the small first-aid kit that Jin had packed in the car, pulling out a large amount of gauze and immediately pressing it to Taehyung’s chest.

“Hey, shit went bad,” you could hear Jungkook speak into his earpiece. “Taehyungie hyung got hit, tell Jin hyung to be ready because we’re two minutes out.”

“How bad is it?” Namjoon asked and you could hear Jungkook’s sharp inhale of breath.

“Bad,” he finally answered and you saw Taehyung exhale roughly.

“Hey, hey, let’s take this off,” you whispered, reaching up and taking off the earpiece that he had been wearing. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“You’re a bad liar, you know that Y/N-ah?” Taehyung whispered and you just sighed, more tears streaming down your face.

“I know,” you admitted gently, reaching down and holding Taehyung’s hand tight in yours. Soon enough, Jimin pulled up to the front of headquarters, immediately getting out and opening the backseat door. You gently lifted Taehyung’s head out of your lap and moved out of the way, letting Jungkook and Jimin carry him inside. You managed to grab the three duffel bags and carry them inside as well, shutting the door behind you to see Jimin and Jungkook laying Taehyung onto a gurney that was set up near the front door, Jin already there with his medical supplies to take care of him.

“What the hell?” Jin whispered as he worked on Taehyung. “What kind of gun did that security guard have?”

“A fucking AR-15,” Jungkook spat. “Since when are security guards packing like that?”

“I guess they are at the largest bank in the country,” Jin muttered. Just then, Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hobi came into the room.

“How is he?” Namjoon questioned and Jin sighed.

“Honestly, not good,” he admitted. “He’s lost a lot of blood and I can’t get the bleeding to stop.”

“Well, try harder Jin hyung,” Jimin insisted. “We can’t let him die!”

“Don’t you think I’m doing that?!” Jin shot back. “I don’t want to see him die anymore than you do Jimin, but it was a fucking AR-15! I’m not a god damned miracle worker!”

“Stop,” Taehyung’s now raspy voice spoke up. “It’s ok.”

“No the fuck it’s not,” Jimin said but Taehyung shook his head lightly.

“I knew the risks, and I’m ok with this outcome,” Taehyung murmured and you couldn’t help the sob that wretched itself from your throat.

“Taehyungie hyung, we can’t let you go,” Jungkook whimpered.

“You have to, or else you all are gonna go down with me,” Taehyung sighed. “Just in a different way.”

“Tae, are you sure?” Namjoon checked and before he could answer, you could hear the faint sound of police sirens.

“I’m sure,” he stated firmly. Everyone moved over to the gurney then, whispering their final goodbyes before jumping into action. After Jungkook said goodbye, you walked over to the gurney and moved Taehyung’s fringe out of his eyes.

“You’ll be...a good....mom, Y/N-ah,” he whispered and your heart broke at his words.

“I’ll miss you, and I’ll always be sorry,” you cried softly.

“Don’t....be, because I....love you,...and... Jiminie,.... and the rest... of.. the... guys,” he hummed before letting his eyes shut for the final time.

“I love you too,” you sobbed, leaning over and kissing his forehead firmly.

“Guys, police are five minutes away,” Namjoon announced and that made you look up at him. “We gotta go.”

“Baby, come on,” Jimin said, gently grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the gurney. As he did so though, he stopped and stared at Taehyung’s body, and you saw silent tears streaming down his cheeks.

“We’re gonna split up into three cars, each car takes a duffel bag,” Namjoon instructed. “Hobi, Jin, you two are with me. Yoongi and Jungkook, you guys in the second car. Y/N and Jimin, in the third car. Let’s go people!”

“Jimin?” You called out to him and the sound of your voice seemed to shake him out of his thoughts because he grabbed the duffel bag that had been sitting at your feet with one hand, grabbed one of your hands in his other, and the two of you ran out of the building. Getting into a new BMW, you threw the duffel bag into the backseat while Jimin started up the car and immediately pulled away from the building.

Turning to look out of the window, you saw both of the cars that the others were in take two different directions from yours and you found yourself hoping that you’d be able to see them all again.

#bts #bangtanarmynet #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts jimin #jimin x reader #park jimin #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts mafia au #bts scenarios

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letswritebangtan · 5 years ago

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Brave Tender Heart 02 | What it Means to be Human...

pairing: princess!reader x knight!jungkook

A warm evening held out its hands for y/n to take. She had been planning on this visit for weeks and there was nothing that could stop her from going. At the orphanage, y/n felt most like herself. People often tended to forget that the term ‘Princess’ was merely a title. y/n was still a girl and she found joy in being one. The little smiles and loud cries of joy that she witnessed at the home made her heart swell. In the past, she never could fathom how children who had almost nothing rejoice every single day. She had so much admiration for them and felt that she could learn a thing or two on how to be happy from them. With the children, she never felt alone. Children did not discriminate, and they were more than happy to accept y/n as part of their social group.

“Princess, please could you tell us a fairy tale?” asked Jeongsan.

Jeongsan was seven and he had a wild imagination. He loved listening to stories as much as he loved telling them, and y/n was in awe at how his little brain could come up with such fantastic stories.

“Fairy tales are boring, ~san! Princess, tell us again about the time you fought in battle!” Jisoo exclaimed.

y/n laughed, “Now, now, let’s decide on a story we all like. That sounds fair, does it not?”

The children nodded in agreement, and y/n cleared her throat preparing to tell them a story she knew they all loved.

“Father, look! I painted all of us, there’s you and ma on the big chairs. I’m over here holding Tae because he can’t walk yet.” y/n talked in her father’s lap.

“This is beautiful, y/n. Go and show it to your mother, I’m sure she would be delighted to see it.” the king smiled fondly at his daughter.

With no hesitation, y/n jumped out of her father’s lap and her little feet moved so fast as she ran to the garden where her mother sat, having her evening herbal tea. Just the scent of it was so nostalgic.

“Ma, I painted a picture.” y/n said as she skipped towards her.

“y/n, no stepping on the grass. I have reminded you endlessly to use the stone path, dear.” said the queen.

y/n ignored her words and held the painting up to her mother for examination. The queen smiled, finding her daughter’s creative imagination adorable. y/n was talented in arts ever since she was little. Her mother made it a point to frame and hang up all of her paintings.

“Well you have certainly captured your brother’s chubby cheeks.” she said smiling.

y/n giggled and placed her hand on her mother’s big, and perfectly round belly.

“I drew the new baby too.” said y/n, as she used her tiny finger to point out a small human next to her.

The queen laughed in awe, “And you have done an amazing job at that too, considering you have not seen him or her yet.”

y/n grinned and left the picture with her mother. She skipped to the pond and sat at its edge, dipping her hands into the water. Underneath, there were silhouettes of fish and frogs. Small insects roamed the top, and y/n having the curious little mind she has she dipped her hands further and further into the water until her entire body fell in with a loud splash. Her feet could not feel the ground, and her head was beneath the surface. Struggling to push herself up she inhaled a big gulp of pond water and it filled her lungs till she could not breathe. The sounds above her were muffled but she could hear the loud, worried cries of her mother and soon a blur chatter of many voices lurking above her. It was not much time before her eyes began to close and her body went rigid.

Everything else was a blur, when she woke she was sputtering large amounts of water from her mouth and she was gasping for air. They sat her up and her head felt extremely light. She felt herself being lifted and as her head hung over the arm of her helper she noticed the figure of a young boy with doe eyes and black hair. He stood alarmed and worried at the sight of the princess almost losing her life in the sacred garden. Slowly, he lifted his hand and signaled her a small thumbs up and y/n remembered his smile. The same smile she had seen not a while ago from the present, the smile that told her that she was going to be okay.

“I really thought you were going to die, princess!” one of them said.

“I knew princess y/n would survive, she’s so strong!”

y/n laughed and made them quiet down. “The moral of this story, my dear children, is that you should never be afraid to be inquisitive. Explore, search, delve and find whatever you want only because you can find it. There is so much for you to learn, and you will not be able to do it if you just sit here. Test the waters, ignite fires, go against the wind or even dig yourselves to the bottom of this Earth, and do not be afraid.” y/n whispered the last part.

The children grinned at her feeling passionate about this new adventure princess y/n had drawn up for them. It was time to call it a day and y/n bid goodbye to her friends and walked along the path to the palace. As she walked her mind drifted to that day she nearly lost her life. Had it been any different, she wondered if she would have survived. The queen was terribly paranoid that y/n would try something again and called upon the family’s most trusted servant, Sir Kim, and made him teach y/n how to swim. Surprisingly, after that terrible incident in the water y/n was not afraid to enter a large water body such as the ocean. She jumped in headfirst and her mother nearly fainted at the sight but y/n learned quickly enough that her mother never had to worry about any more drowning incidences in the future.

“Princess!” she heard from behind her.

She stopped in her tracks and turned to her side, and there emerged Sir Jeon sat on top of his horse.

She smiled brightly at him, “Sir Jeon, delighted to see you.”

“The pleasure’s mine, princess.” he grunted as he hopped off of his trusty steed.

He performed just as he did the last time, lifting her hand and placing a soft kiss on the back of it.

“Do you charm every woman you meet just like this, Sir Jeon?” y/n teased.

Sir Jeon smiled sheepishly and laughed feeling embarrassed. “Are you saying that you feel charmed as well, my princess?”

“Never answer a query with a query, defeats its purpose.” y/n said being didactic.

Sir Jeon pursed his lips and nodded in agreement, “Very well said.”

“What business did you have here?” y/n asked.

“I was merely delivering a message that the prince wanted to get to a family at town. They are in terrible need of financial support and the prince is determined to remove that burden.”

“Good to know that my brother is being helpful.”

“The prince is very kind to offer his support, he needn’t have to yet he makes it a point.” Sir Jeon said impressed.

“Well, our father always told us that humans corrupt balance at most times. Just because we were born into the throne does not mean we are deserving of it. He made us understand what it is like for the less fortunate, and whatever that we can provide, we do.” y/n said as she reminisced of that moment with her father.

“The king was a good man.” Sir Jeon agreed.

There was an inkling of sadness in y/n’s eyes, and Sir Jeon noticed it.

“What happened was certainly not your fault.” he confirmed, looking her in the eye.

She nodded, “Some people think otherwise.”

Sir Jeon did not know what to say next, and y/n sensed his awkward nature.

“I should be heading back, thank you for stopping to see me.” she said.

“Actually, princess, I was hoping to give you a ride back to the palace.” Sir Jeon said motioning to his horse.

“Oh, how very kind of you but I enjoy my walks back home. They give me peace of mind.”

“It would be no trouble at all to transport you back, princess. Are you certain?” he said concerned.

“Very much certain, Sir Jeon. You need not worry about me.” she said with a small laugh. She found it endearing how he always seemed to be concerned with her.

“Well, would you prefer an escort on your walk?” he suggested.

y/n thought for a moment, “No, I would not. However, I would love a companion.”

She held her arm out hoping that Sir Jeon would link it to hers, and when he caught her drift, he slowly interlocked one arm with y/n’s and his other hand guided his horse. Sir Jeon looked carefree, easy and happy to be there. y/n could not think of the last time she had been accompanied on her walk back to the palace.

“May I ask where you have been spending your time today, princess? You had seemed excited to leave this morning.”

You smiled as you thought back to your young friends. “I had made a trip to the orphanage. I make it a point to visit every week, however I failed to visit them last month due to certain responsibilities. It has been a while since I saw them, hence my excitement.”

Sir Jeon observed as y/n’s face lit up like a star as she talked about the children. She talked about their stories and their role-playing activities. There was an incident where her foot had landed painfully on a small, sharp rock. As she groaned in pain, the children failed to hold back their laughter, and soon y/n found herself laughing with them.

“When I am with them, it is as if all my troubles fade and I finally feel like myself.” y/n sighed.

“I understand what you mean. I have not felt like myself in what seems like ages.” Sir Jeon wondered. “It is very kind, and thoughtful of you to spend your time with them, princess. I can tell from your stories that they very much enjoy your company.”

“I can most definitely say the same for them.”

Sir Jeon admired y/n’s personality, as soon as he found out that she had one. She pursued art and was amazingly comfortable with children. There was more he wanted to know about the princess, his conscience was telling him that her traits did not end there.

“You mentioned that you do not feel like yourself, Sir Jeon? What is it that prevents you?” y/n asks.

Sir Jeon felt like he had so much to say, his entire heart to pour out to her. Yet when he tried to explain it, the words that he had rehearsed in his head to himself over years and years, suddenly found itself twisted and stuck.

“Well...it is rather difficult to explain.” Sir Jeon said confusedly.

y/n nodded, “It is not something you can quite put your finger on, isn’t it? It took me a while to figure mine out as well. My problem, Sir Jeon, is that all my life people have seen me as a princess. A girl with royal blood, a girl with power, a girl who confident and strong no matter what. Despite all that, they failed to see me as just, a girl. That is what I am, Sir Jeon, a girl, and so I try to live my life as just a girl from time to time because no matter what, I cannot throw away my title as princess. Hence, I spend my time at the orphanage with my little friends, I ride my horse on windy evenings, I pour the emotions of a girl into my art, I stare at the pond in my garden hoping to see life underneath the water, I read books because of my inquisitive nature, and I try to do what a girl would do. These things make me feel human. Most of the time, I find myself doing activities alone so that there is no space for an individual to say ‘Good morning, princess.’, ‘May I help you, princess?’, ‘Whatever you need, princess.’, none of that. The space is for me, myself, for y/n to be before anything else, an ordinary girl.”

Sir Jeon listened attentively and not only understood the words that came out of y/n’s mouth, but he understood her feelings. At such a young age, he was picked out to serve. He had scarce memories of his childhood, and what it was like to be a boy. He loved catching beetles in the garden, he enjoyed the feeling of carbon on his fingers as he sketched on paper, he relished in the warm and hearty feeling of a good lunch prepared by his mother, he missed dancing to music, singing his mother’s favourite songs, he missed laying his head in her lap and hearing her voice send him to sleep. He missed his father who told him he could achieve anything, he missed the nights he had playful sword fights with his friends and when he could dip his feet into the water and just relax. He missed being a boy.

“I must admit it is in my nature to be loyal and to guard you, princess. However, to me, you are heaps and bounds more than just a princess. I see a girl, taking her time to blossom into a beautiful woman. I see a girl with refined taste, with hobbies and interests, a girl with an enormous, brave, tender heart. No one can take that part of you away from yourself, my princess, and you must not let them. The part that makes you human is the most precious part of us all.”

Their conversation was long enough to sustain on the entire walk home. Sir Jeon felt comfort and familiarity in y/n’s feelings, and y/n felt that there was no one in this world that understood her better than Sir Jeon. As soon as y/n stepped into the palace, her handmaids were plucking her bags and items off of her and as she made eye contact with Sir Jeon, he sent her a knowing look and the two of them smiled at each other widely. They ascended the staircase together, continuing to talk about each others’ lives and their experiences.

“It is extremely questionable that we have not had many conversations before.” y/n said to him.

“I was told to stay out of your way, princess, even in the short time that I remain here. That does not mean I have not paid attention to you.”

y/n felt something warm rise up to her cheeks and she pressed the back of her hand against her skin. She realised that she was flushed in pink. Sir Jeon happened to take notice and a small, proud smirk forced its way onto his face.

“I have taken notice to you as well, mostly as a boy. I hear you were and currently are very talented in your field.” y/n said quickly trying to change the subject.

“I did the best I could for this family, and I always will.”

“And we have have always appreciated that.” y/n looked at him with a sense of gratefulness.

Sir Jeon stood staring at y/n for a few moments before she saw his eyes sparkle with admiration.

“You have gorgeous eyes princess, I remember it to be exactly like your mother’s.” Sir Jeon said softly.

y/n felt her heart melting, she looked at Sir Jeon as if she needed help because she knew not what to respond to him. She was touched, and utterly smitten. A gush of wind suddenly entered the palace blowing onto y/n’s soft face and she squinted, blinking multiple times when she realised there was something that had entered her eye. Sir Jeon looked worried and stood there not sure of how to help. A knight’s training does not prepare them for situations as such.

“Princess, may I help?” Sir Jeon asked.

“N-no need, do not fret about it.” y/n hesitated as she stood trying to rub that darned particle out of her eye.

Soon she felt her hands being removed from her face with a firm, yet gentle tug. She struggled to see with one eye, and she saw Sir Jeon in close proximity to her.

“Just try opening your eye, and when you do I am going to blow.”

“Blow?” y/n sounded confused. “Sir Jeon, really I-”

“Please listen, princess. Just do as I say.”

“I have it under control-”

“Open your eye, princess.” Sir Jeon said with a more demanding tone.

y/n faltered, and did as she was told. In a second, Sir Jeon blew quickly into her eye and the particle was carried away by his breath. y/n blinked a few times feeling a lot more comfortable. There was a tear sliding down her cheek and Sir Jeon quickly caught it with his thumb.

“You’re okay.” he mumbled as he smiled at her.

y/n looked at him for a while trying to process the events that had just occurred. In the next moment, they were giggling at each other like idiots, still maintaining the close proximity.

“Now that was something I had never experienced.” y/n said surprised.

“My mother would do it for me when I had something in my eye. It always worked.” Sir Jeon said smiling.

“Thank you, for saving my eye.” y/n laughed and Sir Jeon laughed with her.

“It was not much time, princess, but I absolutely enjoyed spending it with you.” Sir Jeon said as he took hold of her hand for the second time that day, and left a second kiss.

y/n bit her lip to control the colour on her cheeks and looked away.

“We could do this more often if you wanted to, Sir Jeon.” y/n said shamelessly.

He raised an eyebrow, amused with her proposal. y/n rolled her eyes and stomped her right foot on the ground.

“Stop making it seem like I am the only one who wants this, Sir Jeon.” y/n complained.

Sir Jeon’s eyebrows raised even higher at that and it elicited a grin from him.

“No need to get upset, princess. You know very well I would love to spend more time with you, therefore, will you join me on my morning walk at dawn tomorrow?” he said with a hopeful tone.

y/n pulled a rehearsed, contemplative expression on her face for longer than Sir Jeon desired. He felt her teasing behaviour and proceeded to mimic her actions. He stomped his right foot on the ground and crossed his arms.

“Stop making it seem like I am the only one who-alright, princess! I shall stop.” Sir Jeon laughed out loud as you playfully hit his arm. Briefly, you felt how sturdy and firm his muscles were, must have been a result from all the knight training.

“Say you’d love to join me.” Sir Jeon insisted as he took her hands in hers.

“You are definitely quite bold to be taking on such a tone with the princess.” y/n said teasingly, although she did quite like it when he was firm with her.

“I am known to be the bravest knight in town.” he playfully bragged and y/n could not hold herself back from laughing at his endearing and fun behaviour.

“What is this obstruction?” another voice questioned.

y/n and Sir Jeon tilted their heads upward seeing the prince on the top of the stairs.

“Brother.” y/n greeted.

“Your majesty.” Sir Jeon bowed.

“Have your conversation above or below, not in between. The stairs are not built as platforms for conversation.” Taehyung complained.

“My apologies, your majesty. I will be leaving soon.” Sir Jeon responded.

“Do not worry, Sir Jeon, there is no need to apologise. My brother has just woken from his short slumber and is unsurprisingly moody.” y/n spoke.

Taehyung sent her a small glare of disapproval and started ascending from the stairs.

“Sir Jeon, there is work to be done. Follow me into the main room, will you?”

“Right away, prince. My dear princess, I shall take my leave.” Sir Jeon bowed and y/n tried hard to repress her smile but it shone right through, making Sir Jeon smile back as well.

y/n mouthed a small ‘yes’ and Sir Jeon beamed at her before taking her hand for the third time that day, planting a soft kiss, and then returning to his duties. y/n was giddy and smiling to herself as she walked to her dressing room. She had known Sir Jeon for years but just within a week of speaking to one another, she realised she had grown to like him. Was he generally this polite, fun, and easy to talk to? In that case, he must have a long line of women knocking on his door. y/n did not care about them though, what mattered was that after many years, she was not alone. At the entrance of her dressing room she ran into Sir Park, he bowed in her presence and she put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Please, Sir Park, you know I would always prefer to skip the formalities.”

Sir Park nodded in understanding and sighed, “I know you very well indeed, princess. I also know that you have recently acquainted with Sir Jeon?”

y/n was slightly surprised, “Ah yes, he is wonderful. It is nice to have him back, I’m sure.”

“Indeed, princess, he is liked by many here. He deserves good rest back at the palace, he serves us an awful lot out there, even if it kills him. I feel sympathy for what happened to him.” Sir Park said sadly.

“Sympathy? My god, did something terrible happen to him?”

Sir Park looked at y/n with surprise, “did Sir Kim not inform you? There was a fire in the village and Sir Jeon’s family home was subject to it. Their home burned to ashes and his family lost all their possessions, including his father’s memorabilia. It is deeply saddening. The prince has offered to help since Sir Jeon has been loyal and brave for our kingdom.”

y/n frowned upon hearing the news, and then it had occurred to her that Sir Jeon had visited town today, and he had mentioned the prince giving him some money to lessen some burden...

y/n gasped and looked at Sir Park, “But he seemed so fine-”

“A knight is supposed to be brave and strong, y/n. They should not show any sign of weakness.” Sir Park reminded her.

“But he has a tender heart, Sir Park. He does not deserve this.” y/n said sadly.

“There is only so much we can do, princess.”

“Do you think we can restore his father’s medals? I can talk to the prince.”

“That is a thoughtful idea, princess, but it won’t contain its sentimental value.”

y/n was thinking, she was determined to make Sir Jeon feel better. She knew not where this feeling came from and it was foreign to her, but it felt right.

“We could make a plaque, something to commemorate his father’s service over the years, don’t you think that holds sentimental value?” y/n suggested.

“I am sure he will be delighted. If you convince the prince, he can get it done by tomorrow.”

“Will you stand by me, Sir Park?” y/n asked hopefully.

“Always, dear princess.”

y/n knocked on the door of the main room with Sir Park next to her. Taehyung was sitting at the table, and Sir Jeon must have left since he was nowhere to be seen. Taehyung turned around and spotted his sister with her sidekick. He sighed and returned to his original position.

“Can I help you two?”

“Your majesty, the princess would like to have a word.” Sir Park bowed.

“Brother,” y/n started out slowly as she sat on the chair opposite him. “I have been informed about a recent fire in the village.”

The prince nodded, “Sir Jeon and his family have been affected. Not to worry, I have provided him with the funds to rebuild his home.”

“Yes, that is wonderful, Taehyung, however, the more pressing issue is that Sir Jeon lost his father’s medals and awards in the fire. Those were of sentimental value to him, Sir Park has confirmed it to be so. I would like to request a special plaque to be made in honour of the previous Sir Jeon and his contributions to the kingdom. I need your help to do that.”

Taehyung sighed, “y/n your idea is thoughtful however it is not really necessary.”

“If we only did things that were necessary the world would not be half as good as it is now, brother. I plead to you, I would like to get this done for their family to show my gratitude for their loyal service. It would not take much effort on our part, would it?” y/n persuaded.

The prince looked at her and then at Sir Park. He contemplated the idea for a while and then huffed.

“I can request for one, it can be done by tomorrow. But know this y/n,” Taehyung said seriously.

“I am doing this for Sir Jeon and his entire bloodline of men who have sacrificed their lives to serve us. Not at all for you.” he finished.

y/n nodded and looked down, feeling the familiar ache in her chest she stood up quickly and regained her composure. “That is more than enough, brother. Thank you.” and with that she retreated to her bedroom hoping for an even better tomorrow.

#bts x you #jungkook fics #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #bts au #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #romance #kim taehyung #knight!jungkook #princess!reader #short story #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff

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desiraypark · 5 years ago

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Much Needed Assistance (4)

“Scrambled Brain” Previous (“Tonight”) Entire Work Characters: You know at this point lol Content: N*FW; a little torture? (use of the Force to search someone’s mind); first “full” sexual experience (as in, first time giving/receiving oral and first time getting those guts rearranged); a tad bit of dirty talk; reader realizing that there might be a special kind of dip on that Supreme Leader tip *monocle emoji* Word Count: 3,029 Check out my Master List!

Per usual, you spent the remainder of the day by your supervisor’s side. But your lusty desire had turned into nervousness as the hours passed. You never had time for intimacy—or rather, you never made time. As a teenager, you sought work to help alleviate your family’s financial struggles. You did just about everything—waited tables; collected and sold junk; worked at an emporium. Next thing you knew, you were being seduced by the First Order’s promise of a better life for anyone who wanted to work for them. You became a member of their secretarial pool—and despite the destruction of damn near every base and ship they had the secretaries working on, the money was still just too good to pass up. Your family was your priority—your own future being the second. What did you want to do? You still had no clue. But too-tight shoes and a hand-me-down clothes weren’t going to be a part of it. As for romance? Nothing but a distraction, as far as you were concerned. Now, here you were about to give your body to the most dangerous man in the galaxy. You couldn’t quite answer your own question: “Why him?”. One minute you were a dedicated secretary for the First (and Final) Order, the next you were Kylo Ren’s personal assistant and private finger warmer. Had he performed one of those Jedi mind-tricks on you? Did the sudden proximity to a powerful man turn your brain into scrambled eggs? You didn’t have time to dwell on it. You had notes to take, appointments to make, and demands to follow. The Final Order had three meetings a day, and after the third—always held at seven—everyone was left to their own devices, unless there was an emergency or some major task that required overtime. Some of the leaders, like General Pryde and Captain Undilla, happily worked longer hours. The same went for Ren. He would spend the rest of his evening making plans for the next day, week, or year—depending on his mood—and he would lead himself in his own training and workout before bed. Tonight, was almost no different. With his helmet removed and face emotionless as ever, you served him a hot dinner from the mess hall and kept the ginger tea flowing as he looked over maps of the galaxy, deciding what planets he wanted to explore. Or invade. Then, you went over the minutes from the day’s meetings. When he went to the gym to train, you keyed the minutes into his datapad, as well as new appointments into his calendar. Then, you transferred the information to your own datapad. At about eleven, you drew his bath water and turned down his bed. You always had to make sure you ran his bath water at the right time, because for some gods-forsaken reason, he would only bathe in tepid water. As his bedtime came closer, you became antsier about the night, and hoped he’d forget the night’s “special plans”. You were sitting at the dining table jiggling your leg when he came in at about 11:15. His hair was drenched with sweat, his face and body red. You stood up and he walked straight to the bathroom. “Your bath is ready, sir. And all the information is in your datapad,” you said. He didn’t say anything—which wasn’t unusual. You grabbed your own datapad and your paper notepad, walked out the door, and prepared for bed with the lifting of your hair into a pineapple; a shower; the smoothing of lotion on your skin, and the slipping into your silk nightgown. You did a quick meditation and pulled your covers back. Just as you stepped into your bed, you heard the light beep of your entry keypad, and your doors opened. Ren’s silhouette filled your door frame. You swallowed and sat up in the bed.

“Yes, Sir?” “What are you doing?” he asked. “Um…going to bed, Sir…” “I’m certain I requested your presence in my quarters tonight…” “Yes, Sir.” He walked away from the door. Heart racing, you rose from your bed, left your room, and stepped out into the hallway. A Stormtrooper looked in your direction, but you quickly dropped your chin—watching the black marble floor beneath you until a threshold appeared. He stood by the door wearing only a robe and closed the blast doors behind you. Very lightly, he grabbed your chin and turned your face toward him. “You’re scared.” He wasn’t asking if you were. Your eyes fell to the floor and he chuckled. “All of the little scenarios you’ve played in that filthy mind of yours today, and now you’re scared of the real thing?” He tilted your chin some more, so that your eyes met his. “Why?” You swallowed. “I don’t know, Sir…” He stared at you for a few seconds, then suddenly, you felt a light twinge in your brain. You winced and took a baby step away from him. “Shh…” he whispered. “It’s okay…” He rubbed the back of your head, where flattened curls rose upward into a hair tie. “Hmm, I can see why you don’t know. Do you ever turn this brain of yours off?” he asked. You were too busy grimacing to answer him. “I understand…” he continued. “You’re scared of what people will say. Especially your parents. Hmm. I’ll teach you how to grow out of that…” “It hurts, Sir…” you whimpered. “I know. It’ll be over soon. I need to indulge my curiosity...” He rubbed your cheek. “And you’re scared of not pleasing me. So much conflict, sweet girl…” What sounded like genuine concern filled his last statement, and finally, he let your brain go. You tipped backward, but he grabbed you and set you straight. He looked over your face, then his darkened eyes moved downward. He fondled your left breast, then the right, and bit his lip. In your peripheral, you could see your own breasts moving up and down with each breath you took. He looked into your worried eyes. “I will teach you how to please me,” he said. He tugged at the straps of your nightgown and pulled them down. Then, he grabbed the material over your breasts, and pulled at it until the gown fell to your feet on its own accord. Your arms instinctively shot up and covered your breasts. He smirked, then tugged at your bikini underwear. “Pull these down,” he commanded. You reached for the elastic band and yanked at your underwear. “Slowly…” You slowly pulled your underwear down over your thighs; your knees; your calves, then your ankles. They nestled inside of your gown and you stepped out of your puddle of garments. You covered your breasts again, and he moved your hands out of the way. His eyes scanned all of you—your curly hair; your eyes; your lips—down to your breasts, your belly, and the fleshy mound over your thighs. “Walk to my room.” Once again, you swallowed your own saliva, and walked toward your supreme leader’s bedroom—fleshy and naked. You felt his eyes burning into you. You looked at the bedding you’d pulled back over an hour ago—untouched and welcoming. You turned around and watched him swagger into the bedroom with a stoic expression—his robe was in the main room, inches away from your nightgown. Your eyes made their way down to his underwear—and you saw the firm imprint fighting to claw its way out. You looked back up. “You look better than I imagined,” he said. You blushed and he walked to you, closer and closer until your bodies touched—but he didn’t stop. You stepped backward until you fell on his bed. Then, he laid his body down beside yours. The tips of his fingers dragged along your sternum, down your stomach, and over your mound—he rubbed his fingers over the low-cut hair that covered it. You felt your clit slowly pushing through your outer lips—aching for his touch. “Don’t be scared,” he repeated. His hand slithered back up your body and around your neck, but he didn’t squeeze. “I won’t hurt you.” Next, his hand slithered up your neck and to your chin. He rubbed his index finger over your plump bottom lip, and gently pulled it down. A menacing grin formed on his face. “I’m going to make such a little slut out of you.” A whimper fell from your lips and you gyrated against the air. Then, you surprised your own self, when you dropped your top lip over Ren’s finger. He bit his lip and pushed his finger all the way inside of your mouth—and you stroked it with your tongue. “Mmm…you’re learning already…” he looked down at you and noticed your hard nipples. He dipped downward and he flicked his tongue against your right nipple. You moaned over his finger, and he sucked at your breast—pulling in as much of it as he could. Then, he leaned over and repeated the action on your left breast. He moaned over your flesh. “How does the rest of you taste, Sweet Girl?” he asked. He pulled his finger from your mouth and dropped to his knees before you. When he pried your legs apart, you felt your stickiness separated itself—and cool air hit your glazed clit. With the same finger that was in your mouth, he rubbed your wet entrance and your clit, then he pushed his finger into your direction. You lifted onto your elbows and sucked your tangy juice off his finger.

Then, with his warm tongue, he ran a slow, long, wet stripe against your clit. You fell back onto the mattress with a sense of…relief. He licked around your clit as though he were licking an ice cream cone. The sounds of him licking, sucking, and lapping against your fleshy rose echoed throughout the room—causing you to grind against his lips. “Mmmmm…” he hummed into your pussy. “Mmmmm…” you accidentally echoed. He pulled his lips away, rubbed your thighs, and stared at his work. All four of his thick fingers rubbed against your folds, and you ground against them. “So wet for me. Am I really your first?” he asked, rubbing and rubbing—teasing is what it really was. You gyrated and whimpered. “Yes, Sir…” “Mmm…” he repeated. He licked circles around your clit but pulled away again. “Kylo. Kylo for tonight…” Your heart fluttered. “Say it.” His lips wrapped around your clit, and he inhaled like we wanted your pussy down his throat. “Mmm! Kylo…” “Say it again.” “Kylo…” you whimpered. His tongue traveled down to your slit, then back up to your clitoris, where he gave the bud one last suck—long, slow, and excruciating. Then, he rose to his feet and tugged on his underwear. From your comfortable position, you hid your excitement as you watched his long dick bounce up and down before settling in one place—pointing forward and dripping with precum. He pulled his underwear all the way down then sat down beside you, stroking his dick.

“Look,” he commanded, but with a softness in his voice. You sat up on your elbows and observed his firm dick as he stroked it. “Do you like what you see?” Desire warmed your body, slowly taking over the fear that once filled your blood. “I do…” You bit your lip and he groaned. “I like the way you bite that beautiful lip of yours…” he said with a heavy and breathy voice. You could tell that he really didn’t process the sentence before he let it out. One moment of humanity--of Kylo Ren being lost in his own pleasure. “Show me what else you can do with those lips.” Fear crept through your blood again. “Don’t be scared. I…will teach you…how to please me.” You sat up, licked your lips, and leaned into his lap. Right away, you realized that you probably wouldn’t be comfortable, so you did as he did, and got on the floor. A chill ran up your spine as your knees touched the cold marble, but you positioned yourself more comfortably, took his dick in your hand, the firm and tender muscle it was, and took the head into your mouth. You heard him shudder and felt the dip in the mattress as he rested his hands beside his hips. “Don’t be scared,” he repeated. And suddenly, he was pressing your head down. You gagged as the head of his dick hit your throat, then he grabbed your curly puff and pulled you off. “Now rub your spit all over it.” You did as you were told. Slowly, you rubbed your saliva over his dick—from the shaft to the head, and back down. You glanced up at him for his approval, and he only stared at you with a lustful—but somehow, still blank—expression. “Please me, Sweet Girl,” he said. You curled your lips over your teeth and sucked him slow—warm lips slid over his circumference, and you listened for more approval—a grunt, or a groan. “I know you can get dirtier than this,” he said with husk in his voice. “Don’t be gentle. I want your hands covered in saliva.” You didn’t know why, and you didn’t know how, but he pushed a button in you. You pulled your mouth away, took a deep breath, and pushed drool between your lips. Then, you let it fall onto the head of his dick and you stroked it over his member’s entirety—making it (and your hands) glossy. Finally, you releaxed yourself and went to work. You sucked and slobbered over his flesh as if it were your first meal in weeks—you thought about the things he did to your pussy: the flicks, and sucks, and vibrating “mmm’s”, and you mimicked him, as much as possible. Finally, you heard him moan and groan and rumble and grumble over you. He grabbed your hair once more, and gently motioned you over his head and shaft. He didn’t push you all the way down as he did earlier, but you took it upon yourself to give it a second try. You inhaled as much of him as you could, then pulled your lips away. You got a look at his balls and noticed they were looking dry. His musky scent floated through your nostrils as you licked and sucked on the sack, then, you made a warm, wet trail back up the shaft and to the tip. He took hold of your chin, making you look up at him with wide eyes. “Lay down.” You stood up and laid beside him—feet hanging over the side. But with one hand, he grabbed your legs, and rotated your body so that you were stretched vertically across his bed. He pressed his knee into the mattress and leaned between your legs. As he hovered over you, he planted kisses on your neck and your collarbone. And as he traveled back up your neck, you felt the painful intrusion through your center. You winced and inadvertently yanked your hips back, but he grabbed your thigh and held your leg up by the back of your knee. Kylo worked his inches into you slowly, lips never leaving your skin. You ached for him to kiss your lips, but he traveled everywhere but there. At a suspenseful pace, Kylo finally pushed all of himself into you. You gasped and your hands flew to his chest. He grabbed your other thigh, and just as he did with the first, held it up so that both of your legs were in his grasp. At a waltz’s pace, he stroked your soaked walls with his own soaked dick—the initial pain finally subsiding. Your hands slid down to his torso and you stared into his eyes. “That’s it…you nasty girl…” he mumbled unwittingly. He pulled his dick out and watched your juices come out with it, then he pushed all of himself back in—a lusty cry left your throat. “Is this what you think about when you go to sleep at night? My dick stretching your tight pussy open?” he asked. “Yes, Kylo…yes…” you moaned. Kylo grunted and closed your legs around his waist. Then, he leaned forward and plowed into you. You squealed and dug your fingers into his back as the sensation of a filled belly radiated throughout your entire body. Your slapping skins echoed throughout the quarters—harmonizing with your hitched screams and groans. “Fuccckkkk!” you shouted. Kylo pulled your head back to look down at you with a ravenous grin. He plowed into you--sack going slap! slap! slap! slap! against your skin. You suddenly realized how much your breasts were flopping all over the face. “There you go…” he growled. He traced the outline of your lips with his index finger. “A filthy mouth to match that filthy brain of yours. Do you want to cum on my dick?” “Yes, Kylo! Please!” He moved his hand away from your face, sat up, and rubbed your clit with the side of his thumb as his dick went in and out…in and out…in and out. Your heart started to race, as heat covered your body. As the nectar squelched from your you, images of you sitting on a throne—dressed in a red gown and dripping with jewels—flashed in your mind. Just as soon as the images came, they went—leaving you with a throbbing clit, but a scrambled brain. You came out of your daze just into time to notice Kylo’s dick over you, and ropes of his hot seed pouring over your breasts. He fell beside you, pulled your face to his, and devoured your mouth with his own. Almost like he’d put a spell on you, you closed your eyes, threw your arms around his neck, and gave his tongue a good fight with your own. The two of you pulled away from each other, both taking a moment to catch your breath. Then, you sat up, scooted to the edge of the bed, and walked out of his room and into the bathroom. You grabbed a clean washcloth and walked to the sink with it. As you wet the cloth, you stared at your reflection—cum over your tits, and your irises appearing darker than usual…

#muchneededassistance #my fanfic

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turtletotem · 5 years ago

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Breaking the Curse

The last of my Star Bright reward fics, for @covertius-fic! The prompt was--well, telling the whole prompt would give away the entire plot, but it’s a Captive Prince modern AU that involves Damen always falling in love with the worst person at Nikandros’s party. This year, he meets Laurent.

(Also on AO3!)

...

Damen was beginning to wonder if Nik's New Year's Eve party was cursed.

Nikandros had thrown a grand blowout party every New Year's Eve since they graduated law school and got real jobs—Nik at a prestigious corporate firm because he had the talent and intellect to go far, Damen at the state prosecutor's office because he had the desire to fight for justice and the financial ability to focus on his ethics more than his slender paycheck. Even though he and Nikandros still lived in the same city, they moved in different circles and worked very different schedules; it wasn't all that easy for Damen to see his best friend. For that reason, and the fact that the party itself was incredible, with fireworks and performing acrobats and an open bar, Damen did not want to miss it. But he was starting to think he ought to.

Because every year Nikandros threw a New Year's Eve party, and every year Damen fell in love with the worst—or at least worst for him—person there.

The first year had been Erasmus, a shy sweet submissive paralegal whom Damen doted on for ten months… until he reconnected with his high school sweetheart, leaving Damen devastated and on the rebound just in time for the next New Year's Eve party.

That year he'd met the hot and glamorous Kashel, someone else's plus-one who had dumped her boyfriend and torn Damen's clothes off in a closet before midnight—but that went nowhere in a hurry. It turned out that all he and Kashel had in common was sex, which was spectacular but not what Damen wanted in the long term. They parted ways, amicably enough, by April.

Most recently, after a long (for him) dry spell, he'd met Jokaste at the third year's party—a partner from one of Nik's firm's rivals, who hadn't actually been invited. She had proceeded to turn Damen's entire brain inside out for months, before eloping with his brother the day before Thanksgiving. That had made for an awkward family dinner.

"My party is cursed?" Nikandros repeated when Damen told him his theory, pacing his apartment with his phone in one hand and the party invitation in the other. "That's what you're taking away from this? Not, say, an indication that you jump into relationships way too freaking fast?"

"Wow, way to blame the victim," Damen said.

"I'm right and you know it. You always think someone is your soulmate based on warm pants-feelings and a ten-minute conversation in which you don't hate them. And the only time you meet new people is at my parties."

"None of that is true!"

"I think you should definitely come, Damen. You'll meet a new soulmate, or at least a new Kashel—that didn't turn out too badly. Some awesome rebound sex is just what you need."

"No. I don't want a rebound. I don't even want a date. I want to stop getting my heart broken over and over. The woman I wanted to marry blew up my world and my family less than a month ago. I want to rest."

"Well, stay home then, dude," Nikandros said gently. "I'm not gonna get my feelings hurt about it, I promise."

"No. You know what? No!" Damen dropped the invitation to smack one fist into the other. "I'm gonna come, and see my best friend, and have a great time, and not pair off with anybody, and break the stupid curse! It'll be my New Year's resolution—go to your party and fall in love with absolutely no one!"

Nik laughed. "I don't think that's exactly how New Year's resolutions work, but okay, sure! I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Damn straight you will!"

***

A minor emergency at work had Damen late arriving to Nik's party. He stepped out of the elevator into what was a tastefully luxurious apartment on a normal day, and had now been transformed by twinkling lights, multicolored fountains (rented, he assumed) and circulating waitstaff into a revel of high glamour. Jazzy music filled the space between conversations, and people in tuxes and slinky black gowns gathered in knots around the piano, the refreshment table, the bar, and the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the sparkling city.

"Damen!" Nikandros called, waving over the heads of the crowd. "You did make it! Get a drink, I'll be right over!"

Damen waved back, and happily accepted the glass of wine a passing server offered him. He took a swallow, looked up—and caught sight of the most beautiful human being he'd ever seen in his life.

Blond hair, arctic blue eyes, the fine high-cheeked features of an elven prince. His expression was haughty and displeased, but that did nothing to decrease his appeal; it was all too easy to imagine him coolly evaluating the strength of the knots holding Damen to the bed. He took a broody sip from his glass, tipping it up and revealing a pale, elegant neck. Damen felt his mouth fall open.

Cursed, he thought, his stomach going into freefall. This party is definitely cursed. And it was too late to do anything about it. If he turned around and went home right this second, this guy would still be the only thing he thought about the rest of the night.

And then the server who'd given Damen his wine, a dark-haired young man who looked barely out of high school, walked past the arctic beauty. And the arctic beauty tossed his empty glass at him. Surprised and with a tray balanced in his hand, the server couldn't possibly have caught it; instinctively he tried, and in so doing, dropped his entire tray with a shocking crash and shatter of glass.

The arctic beauty looked the devastated server dead in the eye, laughed, and walked away.

As he went, he lifted a vape pen to his lips, and began filling the surrounding air with a cloud of peppermint-scented vapor.

Damen's heart leaped with delight. Yes. This was perfect. The man's behavior was exactly as appalling as his appearance was inviting; Damen had just found the one person at this party who would thoroughly distract him from hooking up with anyone else, while also making it impossible for Damen to fall in love with him. It was the perfect solution.

Other party attendees had already stepped forward to help the server with the mess of his dropped tray; Damen stepped around them and made his way through the crowd toward the jerk, following the cloud of eye-stinging peppermint and the mutters of complaint against it.

By the time he caught up with the jerk, Nikandros had cornered him against one of the windows and was telling him off.

"—and put that thing away right now," Nik said, jabbing a finger at the vape pen. "Don't you have the sense God gave a kindergartener? Any one of them could tell you that's an outside toy."

The beautiful jerk rolled his eyes, taking a deep drag that was equal parts obnoxious and picturesquely sexy, and put away the vape. "Yes, sir," he drawled, in a voice lower than his appearance might indicate, and mocking almost to the point of flirtation. What little of Damen's blood had not headed south started packing for the trip.

"Hey," Damen said, which was all he could think of to say.

"Damen, hey," Nik said, in a tone of abstracted relief. "Um, this is Laurent de Vere, a new junior attorney," he skewered Laurent with a dark glance, "at my firm. Laurent, this is my best friend, Damen. Be nice to him."

"Charmed," Laurent said, and extended his hand.

Instead of shaking it, Damen gave a flourishing bow and pressed a kiss to Laurent's knuckles.

Laurent looked intrigued, his eyebrows climbing. Nikandros looked horrified.

"Nik," somebody called, "there's something wrong with this fountain, it's making a mess…"

Nikandros groaned, made apologetic noises at Damen, and hurried off.

"So what's Nikandros like to work with?" Damen asked.

"You know how some species of water-creature survive being frozen all winter by lowering their brain function to almost undetectable levels?" Laurent said. "Imagine one of those working in law."

Damen choked on a shocked laugh.

"Laurent, I thought that was you!" A middle-aged woman paused on her way past them. "Goodness, I didn't realize you'd been invited!"

"And I didn't realize frosted tips were back, Madeline," Laurent said sweetly. "Oh—oh, you're just going gray. How mortifying. My mistake."

Madeline drew in an outraged breath.

"Er, let's just get another drink, Madeline," said the man at her elbow, whom Damen recognized as a longtime business acquaintance of Nik's.

"Yes, I'm sure another drink is just what you need, sir," Laurent said, which, considering the drunken hijinks the man had committed at last year's party, made Damen bite his lip to keep from cackling. The man turned red, and he and Madeline both slunk away.

"Aren't you just the social butterfly," Damen said.

"Oh yes, my goal in life," Laurent said, "winning the approval of the rich and shallow. I'm just as rich and shallow as any of them, and they know it. I have nothing to prove."

"Let me get you a drink," Damen said.

"Tempting as it is to spend this evening in a haze of alcohol, getting drunk in front of my boss—who is here somewhere—would be even less helpful to my career than skipping this party," Laurent said. "Oh, look, there's Allen Mortimer, whose embezzlement trial recently ended in a hung jury, I simply must say hello…"

Damen followed Laurent around the party, listening in fascination to his seemingly endless supply of cruel and cutting witticisms, both behind the subjects' backs and to their faces. No foible was forgiven, no flaw went unobserved. How Laurent even knew some of these things was a mystery to Damen. Nor did Damen himself escape unscathed; Laurent once introduced him as "Nik's idiot friend, who is hoping to get into my pants," and another time as "my hired escort; the muscles were extra." This last was given, fortunately, to people Damen already knew, who found it uproariously funny.

Every remark—except for the escort one—was both clever and true, and most were hilarious. Laurent was obviously brilliant, and also a remarkably hateful little snot.

"You must be a terror in the courtroom," Damen said.

"I'm sure you are, as well," Laurent replied. "Such moon-faced slow-witted obstinacy is very hard to combat. Like trying to swordfight a glacier." He looked up from the wineglass he'd bullied a server into filling with apple cider. "I'm not going to sleep with you. Why do you keep following me around?"

Before Damen could formulate an answer, a ruckus at the nearest window drew his attention. Several people were gathered at the glass, pointing and exclaiming at something on the other side. Snow suddenly spattered against the glass. A snowball?

He and Laurent reached the window at the same time, pushing their way to the front until they could see what was happening.

A gray tabby cat was tangled in the Christmas lights on the fire escape, thrashing in panic. Some boys, barely visible on the ground below, were hopping around excitedly and throwing snowballs at the cat.

Laurent hissed under his breath, a startling and furious sound, and bodily shoved two people aside to yank the window open. It didn't want to move at first; Damen pulled at the other side, and up it came. Laurent scrambled through onto the fire escape.

"Get away from here or I will make you regret it," he shouted down at the boys, his voice clear and crisp and incensed.

"Up yours," one of the boys shouted back.

Laurent scraped snow off the railing of the fire escape, packed a ball, and pegged that boy in the face hard enough to knock him on his butt—all in less than a second.

Damen was cautiously approaching the cat, making soft shushing noises. It stopped thrashing and stared at him, ears pinned and teeth bared, making the weirdest, scariest bubbling growl he had ever heard.

Below, the boys were laughing at their downed friend, sounds that changed tenor as they noticed Laurent packing another snowball. Their voices and footsteps trailed away as they chose the better part of valor—still laughing, but leaving.

"The lights are around his hips and back leg," Damen said as Laurent turned his attention to the cat. "He's gonna bite me sure as the world if I try to touch him. Maybe if you distract him…"

Laurent made a thoughtful noise, and took off his tuxedo jacket. It was already cold as, well, as a late-December night, fire escape open to the wind and snow, and neither of them were wearing coats, but Laurent showed no sign of discomfort. A minute ago, Damen would have said it was because he was carved of ice himself. Harder to think that now.

"Wrap this around her front half," Laurent said, tossing the jacket to Damen, "and I'll disentangle the back half. Don't let her get away; she's pulled that back leg out of joint. Needs a vet."

Damen looked at the cat's wide-blown freaked-out eyes and glittering claws. "I'll… try," he said. "One, two, three!"

He leaped forward and tackled the cat, throwing the jacket over her head. She screamed pitiably, and her claws went right through the jacket into his arms, but he'd resigned himself to that much. At least the jacket did keep her from biting him.

Laurent had the harder job, trying to hold down her injured leg while she kicked for all she was worth. He swore a blue streak, and came out of it with a score of scratches of his own, but finally the cat was free of the Christmas lights. Laurent shoved the rest of her up into the jacket; Damen did his best to wrap her up.

"Where's the nearest emergency vet?" Laurent called—to someone behind them, Damen realized, and turned his head to see Nikandros staring through the open window. "Or her owner—do you know her owner?"

Nik shook his head. "She's a stray, me and the neighbors have been taking turns feeding her."

"Right. Well, we need to get her in out of the cold, and get her to the vet." Laurent's voice brooked no argument. "Clear us a path to a warm, quiet room, find an emergency vet, and call a cab."

Damen ended up taking a bit more damage to the skin of his arms, wrestling the cat into a cat-carrier Nik borrowed from the neighbor. They'd taken over the bathroom, he and Laurent and the cat, and Laurent used the antiseptic he found in its cabinets to clean Damen's scratches, silent and expressionless as the cat screamed bloody murder inside the carrier.

"Yowch!" Damen couldn't keep himself from flinching from the sting.

"Baby," Laurent muttered, cleaning his own scratches without a flicker of discomfort. "Her leg hurts a lot worse than your arms."

"I'm sure," Damen muttered, watching the cat clawing at the door to the carrier. "Poor thing, she's so scared."

"She'll be fine," Laurent said shortly, but flinched when the cat gave a particularly heartrending yowl—the only sign that anything he'd experienced all night had bothered him.

There's a lot more to you than I thought. Damen found himself watching Laurent—indirectly, in the mirror—as he crouched in front of the carrier making spspspsp noises, and couldn't make himself look away even when Laurent caught him at it and glared.

Damen wasn't actually sure how he ended up accompanying Laurent and the cat into the cab. It didn't take two people, surely, to drop a cat at the vet, especially when the vet was expecting them and already knew the situation. But into the cab he went, and into the vet's office he went, and before he knew it he and Laurent were sitting in plastic chairs together, waiting for the cat's initial prognosis. They could hear her howling all the way down the hall.

"I'm really more of a dog person," Laurent said suddenly, after a long silence. "Not that I actually own one. But I get along better with dogs. Cats are… We're too much alike, me and cats."

One corner of Damen's mouth tipped up. "I can believe that."

"You're more like a dog," Laurent said, and then looked away, as if embarrassed by his own words.

"Sloppy and dumb?" Damen said brightly.

"No, that's not what I—I mean, yes, obviously that, but—" Laurent's ears were turning red.

Damen couldn't stop smiling. "I might be more insulted if you hadn't just finished saying how much you like dogs."

"What is this, Jupiter Ascending? I do not like dogs, and I do not like you!"

"But you like Jupiter Ascending," Damen said. "Enough to have parts of the dialogue memorized."

"Well, you recognized it, so—"

"So we have more in common than I thought." Damen continued smiling, and enjoyed watching Laurent flail for a response.

"You have a low opinion of high society," Damen said after a moment. "You've spent enough time in it to have dirt on everybody, so you know whereof you speak. You hate them all, but you have to move among them to do your job, so you cope by channeling Dorothy Parker. I get that much."

"Oh, you've got my number, have you?" Laurent said nastily.

"Not yet," Damen said. "Because what I don't get is how the man that climbed out on a fire escape without a coat and rescued a cat—and gave up his New Year's Eve to bring it here—is the same man that was willfully cruel to the waitstaff for kicks."

Laurent appeared struck by this. "I suppose that looked bad, out of context."

"What possible context could make it look good?"

"Nothing could make it look good," Laurent admitted. "I wanted to hurt and humiliate Aimeric, and I succeeded. Very petty of me. No moral high ground there. But it might help to mention that the last time I saw him, Aimeric wasn't working as a waiter. He was the personal assistant to a very powerful man, and a witness in a child abuse case against that man, a witness I thought we could trust to turn the tide of the case. Instead he lied on the stand, ensuring that man got off scot free." Laurent closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "He's probably a victim himself, frankly. I ought to try to have compassion. But I had to send a little boy back to a nightmare he thought he'd escaped, because of that piece of shit. So yes, I was delighted to see him reduced to serving drinks, and delighted to have a chance to make his life a little more difficult."

"A child abuse case?" Damen said, somewhat inanely, since that was the first of the many surprises Laurent had just hit him with.

"Yes, I'm part of the firm's family law department."

That wasn't what Damen had expected of Laurent at all. But a lot of this conversation was tending that way.

"Mr. de Vere," said a vet tech, coming into the otherwise-empty waiting room. "We've successfully gotten your cat's dislocated leg back into place, which was her only major injury, I'm happy to say. She's under sedation right now and we'll need to keep her under observation for tonight. Once you get her home you'll need to keep her confined and sedentary—as much as you can, I mean—for a few weeks so she can rest and heal without re-injuring herself."

"She's not my," Laurent began, then heaved a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes. "Right. Okay."

"She can stay at my place," Damen said, the words bypassing any common-sense filter he might have possessed. "I have a guest room."

Laurent stared at him. "You don't even know if she's litterbox trained."

Damen shrugged, not about to back down now that he'd made the offer. "It'll be fine."

"I'm sure can work out the details when you come pick her up tomorrow," the tech said. "For tonight, you can rest easy, knowing she's okay and in good hands."

They turned toward the closest tube station outside the vet clinic, their breaths puffing dragon-like in the cold air.

"I could commit war crimes for a cigarette right now," Laurent muttered, huddling into his coat.

"Cigarette?" Damen said. "I thought you were a vaper."

Laurent sighed. "The vaping is supposed to help me quit. My New Year's resolution last year was to quit smoking, see. So I've spent the last three days desperately pretending I can still pull it off before the end of the year." He gave Damen a sideways look. "I'm probably even bitchier than usual, tonight, due to that." It had the air of an apology.

Damen smiled wryly. "Broken resolutions. I know how that goes. This year I've managed to break my New Year's resolution before the new year even started."

They were walking past a bar; inside, people with goofy year-numbered glasses and hats were cheering and clustering around the TV screens, which showed footage of Times Square and the traditional descending ball. They both stopped to watch.

"I don't think that's how resolutions even work," Laurent said. "What was the resolution?"

"Five! Four! Three!"

"I'll tell you later."

"Two! One!"

"Tell me now," Laurent said, and Damen kissed him.

Laurent's lips were cold at first, but warmed quickly under his, Laurent's gloved hands fumbling with Damen's coat to pull him closer. He kissed Damen back in an artless, innocent, almost clumsy way that was as unexpected as it was charming, and he kept his eyes closed for a second after Damen finally—reluctantly—pulled back.

"Happy New Year," Damen said, leaning their foreheads together.

Laurent tried to speak, cleared his throat, tried again. "Happy New Year. What were you about to tell me?"

"That Nik's New Year's Eve party is cursed. I'm really glad I decided to come."

"You," Laurent said, "do not make any sense. I like that about you." He pulled Damen in for another kiss, and Damen was happy to oblige.

#captive prince #my fic #covertius-fic #tw: animal harm #the animal is okay though #so is the little boy laurent mentions #laurent is able to help him #happy endings for everyone #sb party

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missn11 · 5 years ago

Photo

And we’re back with chapter one of The Devil’s Advocate and this time I’m not going to unnecessary fill up your dash! 😅 This chapter was pretty short compared to the prologue and not too much happen as from catching with Owain in the modern age and glimpsing at the villains of the book, maybe.

Anyway, we cut from 1093, Wales to the present time (assuming 1997) America, Atlanta, to a Kindred named Grimsdale, whose on the run from his former allies to get to Chicago for safety.

The skyscrapers towered on every side, enormous walls to a cell—or coffin—from which Grimsdale might never emerge. He jerked about, the hundredth glance over his shoulder that hour. Nothing. But they had to be close. He could feel their predatory gazes boring through him like a stake. Grimsdale harbored no illusions. If they caught him there would be no trial, no appeal to the archbishop. There! He whirled around at the sound of a deep, raspy cough just down the street. Street person or assassin? No way to know. Keep moving, Grimsdale told The Devil's Advocate 43 himself. He dashed across the intersection and hurried down the sidestreet. Keep moving. He hadn’t come this far to die now. Downtown Atlanta was mostly deserted this time of night—no crowds for cover, but always plenty of shadows to hide killers. Grimsdale’s hearing was sharp, but would that be enough for him to slip out of the city, to get to Chicago? He had avoided New York, Washington, Detroit, but even here they had found him. How much longer could he elude them? How many hours until his luck ran out?

Then we cut to a courier, Nicholas who has been sent to Owain’s estate to deliver a message.

Evans sat easily upon the edge of his desk, savored a sip from the glass he had poured. “You are from eastern Europe…not the Balkans, to the north…” He took another small sip, concentrated. “Minsk?” A smile crept across Nicholas’ features. He had underestimated this elder of the city. “Kiev.” “Kiev.” Evans nodded. “Of course. Accents are tricky things, and yours is quite faint. You’ve not been home for quite some time, I’d wager.” Nicholas snorted good-naturedly. Four words, and the young-looking vampire had guessed his home within a few hundred miles. Nicholas’ predatory instincts were again as alert as they had been in the forest. He wouldn’t let his guard down again, not around this wily Kindred with his disarming manner and sharp mind. Nicholas didn’t know much about Owain Evans other than that he was a prominent but unobtrusive member of Atlanta’s Kindred community. Obviously he was well-off financially, and he would bear close watching while Nicholas was in town

Evans chatted on politely about something. Nicholas inwardly cursed his own weakness. He had completed his task. How much longer would this maddening formality go on? Nicholas did not feel he could risk offending this elder by dashing out of his home. “Well, my talkative friend,” Evans continued, “let me ask you one final question.” Final question. That phrase muscled through Nicholas’ distress and grabbed his attention. “I’m curious.” Evans sat behind his desk once again and gestured toward the bone case. “You did not bring this message all the way from Berlin purely out of good will. What was your payment?” The question was like cold water thrown in Nicholas’ face. Even though Evans must have known the message was coming and where it came from, how did the cursed Ventrue know to ask about the one thing Nicholas couldn’t divulge? “A favor from a friend’s friend,” he mumbled.

He could feel those black eyes watching him, and wasn’t sure if he could meet the probing gaze with- 50 Gherbod Fleming out losing control, without falling into frenzy. Suddenly the urge to shred the expensive drapes, to rake his claws across the perfectly stained hardwood floor was quite strong. The thought of such savagery in this all too proper room was so appealing that Nicholas couldn’t help laughing at the dichotomy. This seemed to catch Evans off guard. For the first time this evening, the Ventrue looked perplexed, and his obvious puzzlement made Nicholas laugh even harder. The violent nature of his thoughts intensified proportionately, which struck him as increasingly hilarious. Soon Evans joined in the laughing, almost nervously at first, then more forcefully, still not comprehending but not caring, for laughter, like hatred, is contagious. “What, exactly,” Evans forced out between mirthful convulsions, “are you laughing at?” “I was thinking…a-hem…of ripping your throat out,” Nicholas explained gleefully. Rather quickly, Evans stopped laughing. Shortly Nicholas, too, had regained his composure, and both men looked about slightly embarrassed, not exactly sure what had just transpired. Nicholas decided prudence called for taking his leave before the room again began to close in on him. “With all due respect, Mr. Evans, I must go.”

After Nicholas, Owain, who had been playing a chess game for years now, rolls open the message to find that he had lost.

Just as he finished, his distracted gaze fell upon the ivory cylinder on his desk, the message nearly forgotten amidst the strangeness of the visit. He picked up the tube and inspected the intact seal of his long-time opponent. A pity almost to open it. Often times the anticipation was more titillating than the actual revelation, especially when, like this time, Owain felt sure he knew what the message contained. He crossed to the small alcove in the study where he kept his Battle of Hastings chess set. It was carved by a wood worker who had seen with his own eyes both Harold Godwin and William the Bastard on the field that black day in 1066. Owain, as always, played the dark Anglo-Saxon defenders so that he might rework history and spare his homeland the indignity and the horror of Norman overlordship. And this time, the Bastard was getting what he deserved!

This particular game had been going on for about three centuries now, moves sent by courier every decade or two. The previous game had bogged down a bit, as Owain had spent most of the Re- 52 Gherbod Fleming naissance in torpor, but not so this time. Owain congratulated himself as he surveyed the board. The end-game was nearly played out, his black forces relentlessly pressing the attack. The white king was backed near a corner along with a woefully misplayed bishop. A lone rook, a sorely pressed knight, and a smattering of ineffectual pawns cluttered the center of the board. Owain’s pieces were in a far superior situation, even lacking both of his knights. Otherwise, one bishop and one rook were the only casualties of any significance. Owain’s queen whisked around the board mercilessly crushing every semblance of resistance from the damnable Normans. Perhaps Harold should have taken his wife into battle, Owain mused. Surely the end was near. This correspondence might just as well contain a final concession as a move. Unlikely. Owain’s opponent, he knew, would probably struggle on to the end. Futile. And not particularly graceful. Owain grinned as he conjured the image of driving the Normans, mauled and bloodied, back into the English Channel. It would be a shame, really, to end the game. It was one of the few diversions that held much interest for Owain any more.

He was fairly ensconced within Kindred society, and his financial empire more or less ran itself. Occasionally a bit of blackmail, corporate espionage, or murder was required, The Devil's Advocate 53 but nothing overly taxing. Generally, one night was like the next was like the next. That very fear, of anticipation giving way to boredom, stayed Owain’s hand, kept him from opening the cylinder. Even the messenger, that odd Gangrel, had proved entertaining. When could Owain again expect such an intriguing break from routine? A blackness gnawed at him from within. Blacker than the pieces on the chess board, blacker than the night outside his window. Perhaps it is the call of torpor I hear once again.

The knock at the study door interrupted Owain’s darkening spiral of thought. “Yes, Randal.” Owain’s most trusted ghoul stepped into the room. “Sir, our…ah…guest, as he were, has departed, and Ms. Jackson has brought the car around.” “The car? For…?” Owain was still concentrating on the chess board. “The art exhibit,” Randal finished his master’s sentence. “Oh, yes. That,” Owain said absently, again examining the ivory case in his hand. “Is that tonight? You’re sure?” “Yes, sir.” “Of course you are. I knew it was tonight. I suppose a man is due a lapse of memory every century or two.” “Indeed, sir.” 54 Gherbod Fleming “And our dear Prince Benison wouldn’t take kindly to being ignored, now would he?” Owain sighed and set the tube on the table by the board.

Now that he was required elsewhere, his curiosity about the message was piqued. “Oh, bloody hell.” He rose in frustration and started across the room. He would need a fresh suit, but first he should shave the stubble that began every night as two day’s growth and never grew longer. Halfway to the door he stopped and turned back to the table. “Wouldn’t do to be unfashionably early, now would it?” It would be a rare day when impatience didn’t win out over duty. Owain settled into the seat by the chess board. “Well, Randal, let’s see what pitiable defense my esteemed adversary has put forward.” A suddenly claw-like fingernail made short work of the seal, and Owain was unrolling the yellowed parchment he slid from the tube.

As always, there was no preamble or greeting; the black script flowed smoothly limning the five essential words: Rook to King’s Knight five and then a sixth: Check Even close to a millenium of undeath had not prepared Owain for that instant. But he recovered quickly; only for a moment did his mouth drop open before he assumed a more directed response. “There must be a mistake.” The words rasped forth The Devil's Advocate 55 from his suddenly parched mouth and throat, but there was no mistake.

Of course Owain doesn’t take this lost very well...

Owain had pinned White’s pesky remaining knight and within two or three moves would most likely have maneuvered the king into checkmate. But now this! Not only did the rook place Owain’s king into check, the piece’s movement revealed a discovered attack from White’s king’s bishop which also produced check. “But…how?” Owain weakly whispered. There was a pawn blocking that diagonal. A white pawn, but I don’t remember it moving….

He lowered his face into his hand. Owain’s opponent had not, in fact, moved that pawn. Harold Godwin’s omnipotent queen had whisked it away to Norman hell. That was several turns back. Probably…1930. The queasiness in Owain’s stomach intensified as he studied the board more closely. Not only was Owain’s king in check from two attackers, he was trapped. He could escape for one turn, but then rook to king’s knight eight, protected by the bishop, every black piece at least two moves away—checkmate. “Ahhhhhh!” Owain’s fangs slipped down and his claws took shape, so incensed was he.

“Sir?” Randal, who had quietly eased forward to look over his master’s shoulder, jumped backwards, nearly knocking a bust of Oliver Cromwell from its marble pedestal. As Randal watched from a rela- 56 Gherbod Fleming tively safe distance, Owain, his hand quivering with rage, moved the white rook from its former position to king’s knight five with a resounding thump that threatened to upend the other pieces. Randal, an accomplished gamer himself, examined the board for a brief moment. “Oh.” Owain restrained his urge to take each chess piece, one at a time, and rend its head from its body, before grinding its disjointed form into bits too minute to be recognized. With a supreme act of will, he calmly rose from his chair and left the room. “I believe I have somewhere to be,” he muttered through clenched teeth. Randal quietly followed behind.

We then cut back to Grimsdale, who is caught by I guess some Sabbat and they start eating him before a Lasombra, Francesca finishs him up.

“Save some for your lover, Dietrich.” Francesca’s words rolled off her tongue, the very sound of her voice enough to drive Dietrich to distraction. He stepped away from his current masterpiece and pushed away Liza as well. The African-American woman hissed, droplets of fresh vitæ spraying from her mouth as Grimsdale collapsed to the ground. “I don’t believe he’ll be going anywhere now,” Francesca observed. Dietrich laughed at her words, unable to contain himself. He began bouncing where he stood. Liza licked her lips and wiped her face with her sleeve, watching begrudgingly as Francesca lifted Grimsdale and drained the rest of his blood. Even Liza had to admit there was a certain style, an innate sensuality, about this Hispanic woman. Watching her lick the mangled body gave Liza The Devil's Advocate 61 goosebumps and set her to fantasizing. “Your shadow it hold him good,” said Dietrich. “Of course it did,” Francesca responded. Dietrich edged closer and guffawed idiotically at her acknowledgement of his complement. Liza had had enough. “I’d love to stay so we could all kiss each others’ asses, but I got places to go.” Francesca nodded in her direction. “Your aid was invaluable. It will not go unnoticed, I assure you.” “Yeah?” It was difficult for Liza to mouth off at this woman. “Okay.” As Liza turned to leave, she noticed Dietrich’s reptillian tongue stretching out and wrapping itself around Francesca’s forearm. Walking away, Liza tried to ignore the maniacal cackling spilling out from behind the building.

#vampire the masquerade #The Trilogy of the Blood Curse #The Devil's Advocate #books #my reading blogging

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