#So I get THE ITCH every time I am slightly our oc breath or have to cough | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

floralseokjin · 4 years ago

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⤑ made-up love song i.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher living with your best friend, and have never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual smut, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, not really much to warn in this first chapter, there’s some flirting, oc doesn’t want to admit she finds seokjin dishy, she’s possibly in denial that there’s a spark there, jimin and soobin appear 🥰 words; 11,028

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

You hated being late. Not only did you pride yourself on your impeccable time management but sleeping through your alarm always threw you out of whack for the rest of the day. You blamed the annual student reports that had to be written. No matter how organised you were, every year they seemed to sneak up on you and disrupt your prompt 11pm bedtime. You’d been still awake past 1am last night, determined to give each student the report they deserved. The yearly parent-teacher meetings were tomorrow (Friday) and Monday evening; it was officially the end of the school year countdown, which was ironically the most difficult time of the year.

No wonder your stress levels were so high lately. You felt like a ticking timebomb, wondering what on earth would set you off – because it was inevitable. This morning it could have been a number of things… Your inability to awake when your alarm went off, the fact your clothes were still slightly damp from insufficient drying time, your forgotten lunch still at home in the refrigerator, or now, your current predicament – you couldn’t find a space to park your car.

You always got to work an hour early, that way you had enough time to get ready for the school day before the student’s turned up and the teacher’s parking lot was empty. You had your pick of spaces. Today however, with just fifteen minutes to spare before class began, you didn’t have much choice. The spot that required you to reverse in between two cars, or the one that was secluded but came with a price – the sun’s hotspot.

You were stopped idly between the two, mentally making you decision while also damning this day to hell, when suddenly there was a thud and you jerked forwards, a gasp escaping your fallen mouth. Your hands had unconsciously clenched around the steering wheel so you ever so slowly eased up, straightening your back as you caught a look in the rear-view mirror.

“Oh, my god.” You breathed quietly, reaction time delayed greatly. Shock probably.

You watched as a black car – twice the size of yours and almost blindingly shiny – pulled away from the side of your vehicle, back into the space they’d just reversed out of. They’d hit you. You’d been hit. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. It wasn’t even 8am.

There was a clunk of a car door and then a man in a suit came hurrying into view, as fast as he could manage, a look of pure horror on his face. Still on autopilot, you felt your hand reach for the handle of your door, pushing it open to find yourself getting out.

“Are you okay?” The well-dressed man asked, panic evident in his voice. The very well-dressed man. His suit was a three-piece, black and white houndstooth. It looked expensive. Which just seemed to piss you off for some unexplainable reason.

You were fine of course, dazed maybe, the blow hadn’t been that serious at all, but that was besides the point. This man, in his very obnoxious suit (even if it did hug his body in extremely cruel ways) had not been concentrating. He’d reversed straight into your poor little car that was no match for his hefty thing. Your shock was shifting. In its place grew anger.

When you didn’t reply, than man carried on. “I am so sorry, Miss.” An annoying shrill sounded between you both. The cell phone in his hand. He ignored it – or at least tried to. “I really am. I was–”

He stopped abruptly midsentence, letting out a huff. Whoever was calling him wasn’t relenting. He picked up, talking quickly, an air of authority to his voice that caught your attention. “Kim Seokjin, speaking. Please can I – I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to call you back. There’s been an emergency.” A pause as the person on the other end of the line spoke. They weren’t given much time. ��Thank you for understanding. Goodbye.”

The man – Kim Seokjin apparently – hung up, attention immediately back on you. “I’m just so sorry. Is there any damage?” He made his way over to the place he’d hit, just above your back wheel, crouching down, and grimaced. “Oh god.”

You followed, coming face to face with the black scratches that now marred the white paint of your vehicle. It wasn’t so bad, he hadn’t sped out of the space, but something had definitely scraped the steel, and again, that was beside the point. He’d still reversed into your car.

“The bike rack,” he muttered to himself. Your answer. He looked across at his car, brushing a hand through his hair. It stayed perfectly in place, pushed back above his forehead. He was a striking man, you’d give him that. Features made up of, what you could only describe as soft angles. Actually, thinking about it, he was pretty intimidatingly beautiful. That just made you angrier. How dare this stranger unnerve you with his good looks.

“What happened?” You asked hotly.

He looked up at you, taken back by your tone, but composed himself fairly quickly. “I-I was distracted for a moment, I didn’t realise–”

“Were you on your phone?”

“I’m sorry?” You looked down at the device still in his hand. On cue it started ringing again. He hit ignore straight away. “No, no. God, no.” He protested, shoving the phone into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He straightened up, head and shoulders above you. You crossed your arms and waited for his explanation, straining as tall as you could get. His cologne smelt amazing, you tried to ignore it.

“I was – I was trying to get the handsfree to work in this damn car and last time I checked there was no one there.” He seemed flustered. A far cry from the authoritative figure he’d been on the phone call. “I wasn’t thinking, I just backed out –” He stopped, as if he suddenly realised something. “Why… Why were you on stop directly behind me?”

“Excuse me?” You instantly got defensive, hands waving about animatedly as you explained “I wasn’t stopped, I was trying to find a space.”

You hadn’t been aware there was someone occupying the vehicle. No one left the staff parking lot in the morning so there was never any worry about somebody reversing into you. This was all on him. He wasn’t going to try and turn it around on you.

“I’m sorry, but do you even work here?” This school was small, he definitely wasn’t a teacher here, and you doubted he was a substitute. He was too well-dressed for a start. Who the hell was he?!

He looked momentarily confused. “Work here? No.”

“Then why are you using the teacher’s parking lot?” Your arms were folded across your chest again.

His eyes widened in horror, realisation setting in. “Oh no. I didn’t realise...”

“It’s signposted.” His mistake seemed genuine, but that really wouldn’t cut it. Because of his mistake your car was now scratched. You’d have to contact your insurance company and god only knows if they would pay out seeing as the damage was really only cosmetic, and if they did, it would probably take an age.

“It’s my first time dropping off my daughter at this school. I didn’t know where to go, and I was getting so many phone calls, I was just trying to…” He petered out, realising you probably didn’t care about his morning. So what? He was having a shitty one? So were you!

“There’s no excuses for this.” He lowered his head in apology. “I’m truly sorry and I feel awful.”

You found yourself softening. He did sound extremely genuine. You opened your mouth to reply, to accept his apology, but he spoke up again. “Let me sort this out. Money is no object. I can call my mechanic straight away and–”

“There’s no need,” you told him immediately, horror stricken.

“It’s really no problem.” He insisted. “Come on, if we wait for our insurance companies to sort this out god knows how long it will take. No, I’ll phone the mechanic I use right now and they can come and pick your vehicle up. It’ll be fixed in no time. You won’t have to pay a thing.”

“No, thank you.” Your anger was growing again. Irritation itching your face. Who did this man think he was? Money didn’t solve everything. Most people didn’t have that luxury.

“No?”

His bewilderment made you see red. “I don’t need your help or your money.”

You could be very stubborn when you wanted to be. You’d been told so throughout your life; family, friends, exes… No, you’d just pay for the repairs yourself. You’d rather wake up late for an eternity than take his money.

“But I did this.”

He really wasn’t getting it. “It’s fine, just –” You were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone again. “You’re obviously very busy, just forget about it. It’s a few scratches.” You turned your back to him, glancing at your watch. You had just under two minutes to decide on a parking space and get to your classroom.

“Wait,” he called out.

“Goodbye,” you called back, rounding the front of your car to dive back into the driver’s seat.

“But – Argh!” You heard him let out a yell, his phone still shrilling loudly. He sounded frustrated when he answered. “Soobin, what is it?! Yes, I already told him I’m – What? He said they were…”

He became inaudible as you slammed your door shut, using his distraction to drive off – straight into the easiest parking spot available… You guessed your poor car would have to turn into a damn sauna for today.

After the morning you had you were thrown all out of whack. All day you didn’t know whether you were coming or going, your students seeming more hyper than usual and by 3pm you were ecstatic to see them leave. Your head was throbbing by the time half 4 rolled around, the final touches to your student reports complete at least. Not long after you trudged in the direction of your boiling hot car, stomach still queasy from the canteen slop you’d been forced to eat today and stress levels now barely manageable. Only one more day until the weekend, yet now you’d be forced to deal with finding an affordable mechanic with your free time.

You were still in disbelief over today’s events. That frustratingly handsome stranger with the concentration levels of a two year old and more money than sense. You scoffed to yourself, how dare he try to flaunt his wealth around like that. What had his name been again? He’d said on the phone… You couldn’t remember, your temper had been too distracting…

Whelp. You were having second thoughts… Maybe you’d been too harsh earlier… You hadn’t been overly rude at all, but you had been quite curt. He did seem genuinely sorry after all, and maybe you’d misjudged what you guessed was an act of kindness. After all, you had been on stop behind him, and while he should’ve double checked before backing out, it wasn’t all on him. You were both to blame. You felt guilty for not thanking him for his apology. For your preconceived opinions on him. You didn’t even know the man and there you were making judgements –

You stopped dead in your tracks as you got closer to where your car was parked, thoughts immediately interrupted. “What the –?”

Stopped in front of it was small towing vehicle, Park Esteem written along the side in bold orange font. A man rounded the corner of the truck, a clipboard in his hand as he looked around, presumably for the owner of the car he seemed so eager to tow. You. He was looking for you.

You jumped to action, breaking into a run. “Excuse me, Excuse me!” The guy with the clipboard looked up at the sound of your strained voice calling out. It was shrill as you came to a halt right in front of him, demanding an explanation. “What are you doing? Why are you towing my car?!”

“You’re the owner of this vehicle, Miss?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed in disbelief. “What’s the problem?”

He looked down at his notes, visibly confused by your reaction it seemed. “Uh, Mr. Kim has requested I pick up your vehicle and take it to be fixed for the damage he caused?”

Mr. Kim?! Who the hell was – wait. Kim Seokjin. His name came back to you instantly. He’d gone behind your back after you explicitly said you didn’t want or need his help. How dare he. And there you’d been feeling guilty for the way you’d treated him not two minutes previous.

“He said to be here at 4pm as you should be finishing work around then…” The mechanic carried on, voice softening, as if he was about to bear bad news. “I’ve been here for thirty minutes, Miss. I’m afraid I’ll have to bill him for that separately. Time is money after all.”

You checked your watch on autopilot. It was coming up to twenty to five. Shaking out of it, you straightened your shoulders, back to fighting mode for the second time today. “You can’t just take my car without my permission.”

The man grimaced slightly. “Well see, he’s already paid for the towage, and Mr. Kim is a very valuable and trustworthy customer.”

“Trustworthy?” You scoffed. “He’s stealing my car! I’m sorry but no, I refuse this…” You paused to think. “This service.” This was so absurd. Not only had this Mr. Kim totally disregarded your wishes, the towing of your car was incredibly over the top. The damage was cosmetic, everything was in fine working order. It didn’t need to be helped to the workshop. The thought of something so dramatic was infuriating.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Miss. Mr. Kim already paid for the towage upfront so I can’t actually do anything about it now…”

You stared at the man, telling yourself to take deep breaths. It wasn’t his fault. He was just doing his job. “So I have to let you take my car?”

He gave you a gentle smile. “I’m afraid so…unless…” He hesitated. “Unless you pay for the reversal…”

“And how much is this reversal?” Your arms were crossed for what felt like the hundredth time today.

You nearly keeled over when you were told the price. Damn that arrogant handsome man. Damn him straight to hell. Kim Seokjin, you would never forget that name now. What a complete and utter d–

“I’m sorry for the confusion, Miss. I was under the impression you knew Mr. Kim.” The mechanic apologised.

You found yourself softening. He had a gentle voice. A gentle face too. It was that conceited so-and-so you were mad at. You were glad you’d left the classroom late today, not many cars left in the parking lot which meant less chance of a co-worker seeing this embarrassment.

“So, I’m going to need to take your details now.” He continued, holding his clipboard out, sounding hopeful that you’d calmed down. “Just so I can arrange drop off at your address tomorrow.” You nodded slowly, watching him stretch out a hand. “I’m Jimin, by the way. Park Jimin from Park Esteem Car Services.”

You shook it, introducing yourself automatically. “I’m Y/N.”

He gave you a dazzling smile. “Lovely name. How do you spell that?”

Ten minutes later your poor car was hooked up to Jimin’s truck, ready to go, just as a sleek black car with tinted windows pulled up alongside you. Out rushed a tall young man. He looked a little frazzled as he straightened out his suit jacket but smiled your way. “Hello, are you the owner of this vehicle?”

“Yes,” you replied rather woodenly. What fresh hell?

He smiled wider, outstretching his hand. “Hi, lovely to meet you. I’m Mr. Kim’s personal assistant, Mr. Choi, but you can call me Soobin.”

You completed your second handshake of the day – two too many and introduced yourself too. Inside you had a million and one questions. It began with ‘Why was his personal assistant here?’ and ended with ‘When would this day finally be over?’

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” The young man – Soobin – apologised. “Things have been incredibly hectic at the office today. I’m so glad you’re still here.”

Jimin appeared by the side of you then. “Hi, you work for Mr. Kim?” Soobin nodded, tilting his head in curiosity. “Well, there have been a few misunderstandings this afternoon. Mr. Kim said he knew the client but she really has no idea who he is. Other than he was the one who hit her car.”

Soobin grew flustered, bumbling over his words. “Oh, well, um…”

“It’s fine,” you shook you head, not wanting to put the poor boy in an awkward position. This Mr. Kim seemed to like passing the buck onto innocent people.

Jimin nodded. “Maybe just let your boss know that next time he should probably inform the person whose car he’s having towed…”

Soobin laughed then, making light of an awkward situation even if it was forced. “Sure, sure.”

“Okay, well, nice meeting you,” Jimin turned to you. “I’ll have this done by tomorrow, shouldn’t take too long, there’s not much damage at all.” You had the sudden urge to apologise for wasting his time but you stayed quiet. “You said you’ll be home by 7pm?” You nodded. “Great. Someone will drop it off shortly after that.” He tapped the side of his truck and smiled. “Have a lovely rest of your day, Y/N.”

“Thank you, and you.” You waved him off – waved your car off too as Jimin started to drive and it disappeared into the distance, then you turned your attention back to Soobin. What was he doing here?

On cue, he began to explain. “So, Mr. Kim is giving you a temporary loan of one of his cars for the time being, as apology and, well, a gesture of good faith. He really is awfully sorry about this morning.” There was silence as you made sense of his words. “The tank is full, no need for any expense on your side.”

You forced yourself to speak. “Wait, hang on, he’s loaning me his car?”

“One of them, yes,” Soobin smiled. One of them. How many did this man have? “He really doesn’t use this one, so don’t feel like you’re an inconvenience, it’s really no bother at all.” He pulled the key fob out of his pocket and handed it to you with a kind but awkward smile. “Here.”

“So… I’m just riding his car home?” You’d told Jimin you’d call your best friend to pick you up when he’d offered you a ride home. You could still very well do that, but refusing this young man just seemed plain mean. After all, he had driven here despite a busy schedule. You didn’t want to waste his time. Poor boy was just doing what he was told, this Mr. Kim’s dogsbody.

“Yes,” Soobin nodded, looking a little confused now. As if he was wondering why you weren’t understanding what he was saying. “Oh, wait,” he suddenly remembered, pulling a piece of paper (cream wove) out of his breast pocket. “Here’s a contact number for him to arrange the pick-up of the vehicle tomorrow evening. It might be me, but it depends on my schedule.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, still a little dazed, looking down at the number. You folded the paper and dropped it into your purse, suddenly realising something. “Wait, how are you getting home?”

“Hm?” He wasn’t expecting that question. “Oh, subway probably.”

You anger flared once again. “So this Mr. Kim instructs you to ride one of his cars to my place of work, loan it to me and then expects you to just walk to the subway station?”

Soobin blinked slowly a couple of times, hearing the attitude in your voice. “Well, when you say it like that you make it seem…bad. Your tone...” He shrugged and then gave a small laugh that wrinkled his nose. “I’m happy to walk, you know, exercise, get that blood pumping…” He finished with a few nimble stretches just to emphasise, before looking comically aghast. “Sorry. Ignore my unprofessionalism.”

You jerked your head towards the car. “Get in.”

His mouth hung open in confusion. “What?”

“I’ll give you a ride home. Do you live far?”

“Not too far, Miss.”

He waited for you to get into the driver’s seat and then followed quickly, getting in beside you. He couldn’t have wanted to walk that much then... “Call me Y/N.” You told him with a kind smile. “I don’t like all this professionalism. Besides, I get called Miss all day, every day. It gets tiring after a while.”

He nodded dutifully in reply, back straight.

You were on pins driving all the way home, eager to drop Soobin home so you could let go of your composure. This car was way too nice for you. Why did this stranger trust you with it?! His car. He didn’t know you. You could be the worst driver in the world for all he knew. You weren’t, but you could be.

After you’d pulled up in your driveway you stayed there for a few minutes, needing some silence, just to calm yourself down, because you knew soon enough you’d get bombarded with questions. Sooner than you thought actually, because there was your front door ripping open, your best friend and roomie, Soojung, rushing out. “What is going on?” She demanded as you pushed the car door open. “Taken up car theft in your spare time?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you sighed, already trudging to the house.

She followed behind closely. “Um, you’re talking about it alright. You can’t just park up in a car worth more than both our salaries a year and expect me to not bat an eyelid.”

You scoffed at her dramatics, hanging your purse over the coat rack. “It’s not worth that much.”

“Y/N, I mean this with the least possible offence, but you know absolutely jack shit about cars.” You had no time for a comeback. “Now tell me where the hell did you get that car?!”

After the third degree from Soojung for over an hour, you managed to shut her up with an in depth description of your car thief (as you were now calling him), which included in no particular order: what he looked like, his estimated age, his outfit and how rich you thought he was. You insisted you were in no way bothered by any of these factors and you were only humouring her for some much needed peace and quiet. She spent the next ten minutes begging you to call him and put him on loudspeaker so she could hear his voice, but you outright refused. You were not calling him tonight, you couldn’t trust yourself not to raise your voice. It could wait for tomorrow, when your first round of parent-teacher meetings were over and you had your own car back in your driveway. Mr. Kim could wait for his, it was the least he could do after all the trouble he’d caused today. You bet he had another six cars anyway – one for each day of the week.

Soojung made you both a late dinner and not long after that you crawled your way to bed, exhausted and not at all mentally ready for tomorrow. You did wake up ten minutes before your alarm though, which you chose to take as a good sign, remembered your lunch too, and you hated to admit it, but your loaned vehicle drove like a dream once you weren’t so scared of accidentally careening it off a cliff, or something equally as impossible.

You day actually went by without a hitch. All the children were well-behaved, much more subdued than yesterday, but maybe that was because your stress levels had rapidly decreased with the positive signs from this morning. They had raised a little when Mrs. Jeon from third grade had enquired about the new car she’d seen you driving into school, but after giving her a very much condensed version of yesterday’s events you both had a little laugh together, where she then proceeded to joke around and tell you that you shouldn’t give the car back… or at least you thought she was joking… However, other than that, the school day breezed by.

Better yet, all the parents scheduled for meetings today were on time, and despite the rush end of year reports brought, you genuinely did love the opportunity to talk with your students’ parents one on one. You’d been teaching the first grade at the same school for over seven years now and despite the ups and downs being a teacher brought, it really was the most rewarding and fulfilling job. Especially at a school like this. This place was like a home to you, all you had ever known, and your students meant the world to you. Each and every one. Class sizes were always small at Primrose Hill, and that always made your connection with the kids even greater.

There was always a sadness in your heart when May rolled around, the school year nearly over and you had to get ready to bid goodbye to the children who’d been a part of your life for over nine months. Of course, come September you would greet a new class of students once again, but it was always so bittersweet…

It was just gone half past six now and you were waiting on the last parent of the evening. 5/6 parents on time was still a success. Hopefully Monday you would see full marks. You were waiting on the father of your newest student, Kim Arin. She’d only been with you two months, and it was very unusual that a child joined you so late into the year. You didn’t know all the details, but it seemed that her parents were divorced and she’d recently moved to live with her dad. You liked Arin, she was a sweet little girl, quite timid at times, especially in the beginning, but that was to be expected of course. It was always nerve-wracking to start a new school. She’d gradually come out of her shell, made friends and she was incredibly gifted in storytelling for such a young age. In a few years, if she kept it up, who knew what she’d be creating. You couldn’t wait to tell her father that. You’d grown very fond of her very quickly and you would definitely miss her come September.

“Come in,” you called, a knock on your classroom door breaking you from your thoughts. Your back was to the entryway, preoccupied with collecting Arin’s report and classwork on your desk, so you didn’t see who entered, although presumably it was her father.

“Oh, hello again.”

You froze at the sound of the voice. That voice. Why was it so familiar? Why did it get your hackles up? As if you needed to prepare for a fight– Oh.

You turned abruptly, eyes wide as you came face to face with the car thief. What on earth was he doing here? Had he come to collect his car?! Maybe you should’ve rung him last night, but it seemed a little unbelievable that he was chasing this up so keenly. You weren’t the thief in question. He was. How insane was it to track you down like this. Who had given him your name? Who had told him what class you would be in? Surely it was forbidden?

“If this is about the car business, we’ll have to sort it out later on, I’m expecting a parent of a student any minute now.” Straightening your back you held eye contact. He was very amused, eyes twinkling as he smiled at you, cheeks rounded. It made you feel slightly unnerved, but by damn had you forgotten how infuriatingly handsome that face of his was. Jerk.

He held up his hand slightly and laughed. “I’m the parent in question.”

“What?”

You stood there limply like an idiot, blinking slowly as you tried to mentally put the pieces together. Kim Arin. Mr. Kim. Kim Seokjin, the arrogant, money can solve everything so-and-so was Arin’s father? Great. Absolutely gr–

“You’re Miss. Y/L/N?”

“You’re Arin’s father?” It was obvious by now, but maybe there was that 0.001% chance he’d gotten the wrong classroom. Maybe.

“Such a small world,” he grinned, all hope lost. He held out his hand for you to shake. “It’s nice to officially meet you.”

There was a teasing to his tone, it got you pissed again, but you had to take it. You were in a professional setting now, you were his daughter’s teacher. His hand was warm, soft, grip gentle. Maybe you squeezed too hard, maybe he didn’t notice. “Please take a seat, I won’t be a minute.”

Your tone was clipped, unable to sound at all breezy like you had with the other parents, and you turned back to your desk, rifling through more papers even though you had everything you needed. In all honesty, you just needed some thinking time. Get through this twenty minute meeting, you told yourself. Pretend like he wasn’t the man who hit your car and then got it towed a few hours later. You could do it.

You felt him take the seat behind you, amusement still strong as he asked you a question. “So, are we just going to pretend yesterday didn’t happen?”

You collected Arin’s work and rounded your desk, taking a seat directly in front of him, careful to keep your expression neutral. “Right now’s not the time to discuss personal matters. Let’s just wait until this is over.” Twenty minutes and then he’d have it. He wouldn’t be smirking then.

Although surprisingly, immediately after you said that he grew serious, nodding his head in agreement. “Of course. My apologies. Sorry I was late, by the way, I couldn’t escape the office.”

Taken back by his sudden change in demeanour you shook your head. “It’s fine.” You weren’t expecting it to be so easy, but he listened.

“So,” he prompted when you didn’t follow up with anything. “Should we get started?”

You jolted, unaware you’d been lost in thought and silently cursed yourself. He was going to think an idiot was in charge of teaching his daughter. Not that it mattered what he thought, but still, you needed to snap out of it. He was here to talk about Arin and as her teacher you had plenty to say.

Seokjin was highly focused throughout the whole meeting, taking on bored everything you had to say with earnest. He wanted to know how his daughter was getting on at her new school and was interested in all the work she had completed in the short amount of time she’d been here. He didn’t have to, but he gave you a small explanation about why she’d had to switch schools so late into the year, and even though you already knew it was because she’d moved to live with him, you stayed silent, letting him carry on. He sounded so genuine, so worried about what the move could’ve done to Arin’s education and mental health that it ended up touching you. It was visibly obvious how much he loved and cared for his daughter and that was refreshing to see. A lot of the time it was the mothers who attended these parent-teaching meetings, you rarely had the chance to speak to the dads, so you did relish in this opportunity, discussing Arin’s talent in creative writing in depth, showing Seokjin the collection of short stories she’d written, and giving him tips when he asked on ways she could improve.

That would come with age, you said, but there was one small thing she may want to stop now rather than later. Her most recent story, a beautiful and creative fantasy piece that she unfortunately ended with the ‘it was all a dream’ trope.

“What’s wrong with that?” Seokjin asked. You instantly sensed that his defensive was up. It made you smile as you gave a slight shrug.

“Nothing per se, it can just be a little cliché. There’s much better ways to end a story.”

“Sure, but she’s only 6. It can’t be that serious?”

Your smile grew. “I understand that, Mr. Kim. Like I said, Arin is truly gifted for her age, it was just a pointer that you asked for.” You wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise, but he seemed thoroughly into this discussion now.

He tilted his head in thought. “What if it was the legitimate ending of a story? There’s obviously famous novels with such conclusions.”

Amused, you mimicked him. “For instance?”

“Hm?”

That caught him off guard. “What novels? Name me some.”

His eyes grew comically wide at your request, and just as you suspected, he couldn’t answer. He chuckled, looking a little embarrassed. Was that a little colour on his cheeks? “You’ve put me on the spot.”

You were both so engrossed discussing Arin that the time seemed to fly by. It was near to 7pm by the time you wrapped things up, and you’d enjoyed yourself so much you almost forgot you’d made a deal with yourself to start chewing Seokjin out the moment it was all over. He ever so kindly reminded you.

“You know, I was expecting a very angry phone call last night. I was quite surprised when it never came.”

Both of you were now stood up, your desk still between you. Seokjin held copies of Arin’s stories that you’d given him to read over in his free time and you with nothing to fiddle with, folded your arms across your chest. Ah, here we go again. The playful lilt to his voice back from earlier, that infuriating smirk too.

He was dressed in a much less flashy suit today. A simple slate grey two piece, his dark hair styled against his forehead, the smallest peek of forehead visible. It made him appear younger – not that he looked old anyway. Your guessing was mid 30s maybe, but this hairstyle made him appear softer. The faintest of lines around his eyes provided the slightest of giveaways, but then again, you only noticed them because you were searching for any clue to his age. His hair was still thick and dark and it definitely didn’t look like he dyed it. His body was… hm, he was built well. He certainly seemed to look after it. Not that you were looking, of course.

You could definitely see the resemblance between him and Arin. Their eyes were the same almond shape, both deep brown in colour, and while their noses were slightly different, Arin’s cheeks obviously rounder, their plump lips were uncanny.

Despite very much in thought, you kept your expression unreadable, nose in the air as you replied. “Perhaps I was too mad for words.”

He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. If they were natural, life was incredibly unfair. “And now?”

“It would be unprofessional of me to start yelling at my place of work.”

“You want to yell at me?” His eyes twinkled with silent laughter. It was obvious he was holding it in.

You were glad he found this funny because you didn’t. No matter how much he’d impressed you as a father it still didn’t change yesterday. “You had no right just stealing my car like that.”

He scoffed. “It was hardly stealing. Who steals a car to pay for the damage he caused?”

“I didn’t want you to pay!”

He still looked baffled by your stubbornness. “That’s just absurd.”

“You’re calling me absurd?”

He sighed. “Of course not.” He was getting flustered now, similar to yesterday. It was funny to watch. “I just…” He trailed off, catching the grin on your face. “You’re enjoying this.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, I love a complete stranger backing out into my car to then subsequently steal it from right under my nose.”

He eyed you hesitantly. You knew he couldn’t tell if you were joking around or not. Your words and posture said no, but your eyes and lips gave it away eventually. “We’re still on this stealing business?” He paused, lips quirking. “Besides, I’m not a stranger. I’m your favourite student’s father.”

You laughed in disbelief. This man was so full of himself. “I’m a teacher, I don’t do favouritism.”

“Oh?” He seemed sceptical.

You shook your head, he really was unbelievable, but you couldn’t stop the smile that creeped its way to your mouth. “If that’s all, Mr. Kim.” You pointed to the door. It was getting late now, your car should be getting dropped off soon too.

He chuckled as he started to make his exit, you following closely behind. When he stopped abruptly, turning back, you weren’t expecting him to be so close. You could notice the beginnings of stubble growing above his top lip, a sure sign you were in too close a proximity.

“She likes you a lot.” He murmured, serious once again. You wished he’d stop doing that. Was he an obnoxious rich jerk, or a caring, hardworking father? You would have gone with the former right before this meeting, now you had no clue. Maybe you’d gotten him all wrong. That would teach you for judging a book by its cover…

“Arin,” he added, as if it wasn’t obvious. “She’s always speaking about you when I ask how her day went. You’re her favourite ever teacher.” He grinned then, laughing, amused by himself.

You groaned. “Stop trying to guilt me.” He laughed harder, throwing his head back. Was all that true? Arin talked about you? You were her favourite teacher? Or was he just making it up for reaction? You didn’t ask.

“Although, I will say it’s nice to put a face to the name now.” Maybe you didn’t need to ask. “Just wasn’t expecting it to be the woman whose car I drove into yesterday morning…”

No, neither were you.

“I really am sorry about that.”

He sounded nothing but sincere, you couldn’t not accept his apology, despite being still annoyed by what he had done afterwards. “You keep saying.” You gave an accepting sweep of your hand. “Let’s just forget about it, accidents happen, right?”

“Right.” He gave a quick nod of his head, followed by a shrug. “…aand I guess you were parked behind me so…”

You opened your mouth to refute such a claim but his laughter was so loud, so unlike his outer appearance, if that made any sense, (all high-pitched and squeaky almost), you were dazed for a moment, couldn’t help but join him – quietly so, but it was something. This man obviously thought he was hilarious.

He opened the door, hand resting on the handle as he spoke again. At this rate the janitor would appear for his shift and you’d still be here talking to Seokjin. “Listen, I can’t find anyone to pick up my car tonight so how about tomorrow? Is that okay for you? You can give me a call in the morning and we’ll arrange a time suitable.”

Oh yes, you’d forgotten all about that. Too distracted. By what? Him? “It’s fine. I can drop it off myself tomorrow.”

He raised that perfect eyebrow again. “You can?”

You gave him an affirmative hum. Why was that so surprising to him?

“How will you get home?”

Shoot. “Subway,” you thought quickly.

“Are you sure?” He looked even more surprised, was about to suggest something else it seemed, until you spoke again.

“Saves that kid wasting his weekend.”

“Kid?”

“Soobin.” No doubt he’d be the one to pick the vehicle up, being Seokjin’s personal assistant after all. You needed one of those. They could mark the children’s homework and plan your lessons…

“Oh. He really wouldn’t mind,” Seokjin reassured.

“Really?” It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. Both of them actually, but they weren’t as devastatingly shaped as his. That reminded you, you needed to get them threaded again soon. “Poor boy was about to trek to the station yesterday before I offered him a ride.”

“You took him home? He didn’t tell me that.” Seokjin sounded surprised.

“I wasn’t going to let him walk after he went to all that trouble for me.”

He nodded in understanding. “You’re very kind.”

You felt a little panicky, unable to read his reaction very well. “He won’t get into trouble?” You couldn’t see why he would, but you never know.

“No,” Seokjin laughed. “Is that what you think of me?”

You shook your head. “Of course not, I was just…” You stopped, unsure what to say.

“I wonder what you do think of me,” he pondered, voice low, lips curled.

“I don’t think it really matters what I think of you.” You replied cryptically.

He liked that, chuckling softly. “Can’t a guy be curious?” You remained tight lipped. “My employees love working for me, for your information.” He added. Maybe as damage control, who knew.

You rolled your eyes for the second time this evening. “You’re very full of yourself, Mr. Kim.”

“Please, call me Seokjin,” he requested.

You nodded, but you still didn’t think you were at that type of pleasantry yet. You could think of him as Seokjin but to say it aloud felt wrong almost, you didn’t know him. Thinking about it, it wouldn’t really matter come tomorrow anyway.

You watched him pull out a small notebook and an expensive looking pen from his inner jacket pocket, holding the copies of Arin’s stories under his arm as he used the door for support to write his address down for you. Ripping out the page perfectly, he passed it to you with a smile. “Drop the car off around 3pm. I should be long done at the office by then.”

He was working on the weekend? He certainly was a busy man. Who looked after Arin while he wasn’t there? These curiosities you had couldn’t very well be asked, not unless you wanted to appear nosey and overstep the mark…

“Okay,” you replied. “Then we arrange repayment.”

“Repayment?” He looked bewildered. “You’re not paying me back.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.” His tone was stern. You could be sterner, you were sure of it.

“I am.” You insisted, staring him down. “The mechanic informed me yesterday that you’d be charged separately because he had to wait an extra half hour.”

“Oh, that.” He shook a hand. “I knew that might happen because I was uncertain when you finished work. It’s really no bother.”

No bother? Was this man adamant to hear you raise your voice? “I’m paying you back.”

He feigned confusion, teasing you. “I don’t think you are.”

“I – Look, we’ll sort this out tomorrow.” You’d be here arguing until Monday otherwise.

He scoffed. “There’s nothing to sort out.”

You shot him glare. It was a warning. Tomorrow you’d let him have a piece of your mind if he continued to refuse. You didn’t think he took it seriously.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t just sit here and I say he wasn’t flirting with you.”

“He wasn’t.” You were adamant. Soojung had made you relay your whole conversation with Seokjin as soon as you’d let slip this evening’s revelation. You were regretting it now. You were trapped on this couch forced to listen to her insane claims. There was no way in hell that man had been flirting with you.

“You were definitely flirting back.”

You felt yourself flush, voice raising as you insisted that she was wrong. “As if.” She shot you a look that told you she didn’t believe a word. “He’s rich and arrogant.”

She laughed. “You say rich as if it’s a bad thing.”

It wasn’t a bad thing, it just wasn’t your thing, but if rich made him smug and think he could throw his money around when you’d explicitly stated you didn’t want him too, then yes, it was a bad thing.

“I wonder how loaded he really is…” Soojung thought aloud. “Millionaire status? He didn’t say where he worked?”

“Didn’t come up,” you replied shortly. You were done talking about him now. In your eyes it was nearly over. Your car was back in its rightful place on your driveway and Seokjin’s would soon follow in its rightful place – surrounded by a handful of others. You would never have to see that frustrating man ever again – hopefully.

“Find out tomorrow.”

“I am not finding out tomorrow,” you exclaimed. It wasn’t important. He worked in an office, nothing out of this world amazing. “I’m just going to drop off his car, write out a cheque and be on my merry little way.”

Soojung snorted. “Bitch, you’re going to be repaying him back a dollar a week.” You glared at her but she wasn’t fazed. “There’s no way you can afford it. He probably uses the most expensive mechanic in the city.”

“Shut up.” You didn’t care if you had to use your savings account. He was getting his money back one way or the other. You refused to be indebted to him. You were a little nervous though… “It can’t be that much. He only had to repaint some scratches,” you worried.

Your best friend ignored you, nestling in closer, an overjoyed grin on her face. “Tell me again, is he dishy?”

You sighed – loudly. Why couldn’t she let the topic drop? “I’ve already described him to you, and besides, that’s not the point.”

She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively. “So that’s a yes then. You’re into the Dilf!”

You didn’t bother replying, instead choosing to throw a cushion at her. She was unbelievable. But why did her teasing annoy you so much right now?

Saturday and Sunday’s always allowed you to sleep in, although 8am probably wasn’t what most called late. You liked to make the most of your weekends and today was no different. After breakfast you showered and got ready, putting aside an hour to go over the student reports for Monday instead of wasting your Sunday night instead. You and Soojung had made plans to go out for coffee late morning as it was rare to see her free on a Saturday. She worked hectic and last minute hours as a department store manager, but she’d finally bargained her first full weekend off in months.

Somehow your coffee turned into a little bit of a shopping spree, your credit card violently cursing you, but after the past few days you’d had you couldn’t find it in you to give a damn. You ate a late lunch at a one of your favourite cafés and then sadly, it was time to rush home and drop off Seokjin’s car back to him. You were very much dreading it – happy it would soon be over, don’t get you wrong, it was just the thought was making you all fidgety and nervous. Soojung wasn’t making it any better, she wouldn’t shut up about it, trying her best to get you give his address up. As if. You knew better than that. She’d be straight on her phone, google maps up in an instant.

You said a begrudging goodbye to her half 2, promising you’d call her straight away with all the details once you were done. She was spending the night at her boyfriend Taehyung’s house tonight but that still wouldn’t stop her innate need for gossip. Your phone acted as GPS on the way to Seokjin’s house, having no idea how to use the fancy one in his car. Not that any of it helped. His house seemed impossible to find. It did not take the predicted twenty minutes your phone told you. No, it was near forty by the time you finally found the concealed long road you’d driven past three times that led to it.

You came to a stop outside a pair of intimidatingly large gates and nearly choked when you saw his house. Well, you couldn’t really call it that. It was a mansion. Eight times the size of the house you and Soojung rented together, maybe more. He really was loaded. You just hadn’t realised how loaded until now. You felt a little sick as you spotted the intercom system on the wall, wondering if you could just ditch the car here and run as fast as your legs could carry you. Why had you not just let Seokjin arrange someone to pick it up from your house? Why were you always so stubborn?!

Taking a deep breath you got out of the vehicle and walked over to the intercom, feeling partial relief to find it didn’t have a camera attached. You would absolutely die of shame otherwise, hopelessly unphotogenic and camera shy. Your teacher’s ID card would forever haunt you.

It rang for a few moments before a woman picked up. “Hello, may I ask who it is?”

You weren’t expecting the female voice so you were stumped for a moment, stumbling over your words before you managed to settle on something helpful. “Hi, yes, this is Arin’s teacher, Miss. Y/L/N. I’m here to return the car Mr. Kim loaned me…”

“Hello, love” the woman greeted sweetly. “Drive up to the front of the house. I won’t be a moment.”

“Okay.” You were thankful she hung up first because you let out a shriek when the gates started automatically opening. You dreaded to think if there were security cameras near.

With a delay you got back into the car and started it up again, thoughts a little preoccupied now that it wasn’t Seokjin who’d picked up. You’d taken it he lived alone, not that he’d told you that. Maybe he had a new girlfriend, you were unsure how long he’d been divorced for. Although you didn’t recall Arin mentioning a woman’s name when she talked about her father. Not that you’d like to admit it, but you’d spent a generous portion of time last night while you waited for sleep trying to recall times when Arin had mentioned Seokjin. You didn’t know why, curiosity you guessed.

But anyway, if Seokjin in fact did have a new partner, then you also guessed Soojung’s theory was incorrect. He had not been flirting with you. Which wasn’t a surprise. It had been a long time since a guy had flirted with you… You were probably to blame there, but it didn’t particularly bother you. Your life was busy enough as it was, throw in a man and you’d hit your breaking point.

The woman who’d answered the call was waiting for you outside as you pulled up, older than her voice had made her seem. You stopped the car and got out, greeting her.

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Arin’s Nanny, Misook.”

Oh. That made sense. You guessed your imagination had run wild with you for a few unexplainable moments. You felt almost embarrassed as you stood there awkwardly. Was she going to take the keys? Could you leave?

“Please come in.” She smiled kindly. “Seokjin won’t be long, he’s just showering, work ran late.”

Come in?! Oh no, no, no. That wasn’t part of the plan. It was drop the keys and run. However, like a fool, you were unable to say no, looking behind you at Seokjin’s vehicle. “Is the car okay here?”

“Of course,” she nodded. “He’ll place it in the garage later. Follow me.” She turned her back and started making her way inside.

You followed with heavy feet, not quite ready for this. Your first three encounters/dealings with Seokjin had been interesting to say the least. How would the fourth go? You felt a little rude entering your way inside his house (mansion) but Misook wouldn’t have invited you inside if it wasn’t okay, right? Maybe Seokjin wanted you here…

“Make yourself comfortable while you wait.” Misook said once you’d taken off your pumps and she’d led you to the room nearest the entryway. The living room? The lounge? The family room? You didn’t know what else to call it, descriptions too basic for this grand home.

Not that the décor and furniture were too elaborate. In fact, everything looked so homely and cosy inside. The couch was definitely leather but the throw draped over it and the cushions out of place made it look lived in. The colour scheme was minimalistic, walls cream, accents mostly teal blue and grey. Seokjin had style, or perhaps he’d hired an interior designer. You suddenly wondered what the rest of his home looked like.

“Do you want anything to drink? Anything to eat? I’m just making Arin a snack.” Misook offered, but you immediately shook your head, not wanting to put her out.

“Oh, no thank you. I ate before I left.”

She nodded and left the room, leaving you to your own devices in a stranger’s house. The stranger who had hit your car and then proceeded to steal it from right under your nose. The stranger who had let you borrow his car and the stranger who was Arin’s dad. The world worked in mysterious ways. Or it was just mere coincidence, whatever.

You perched yourself on the end of the teal love seat nearest the large bay window, fluffing up the cushion behind you to at least look a little comfortable. You looked around the room casually, spotting a hardback book on the coffee table – The Rough Guide to the 100 Best Places on Earth. Did Seokjin like to travel? With a seemingly busy lifestyle and a child it seemed pretty impossible. Maybe he just liked to dream? Maybe he’d travelled in his younger days? Wait, why were you thinking about these things? You looked over to the impressive brick fireplace, the obvious focal point of the room; it was stunning. A chunk of waxed driftwood sat above it, acting as a shelf and in the middle of it was a photo of Arin and Seokjin in a silver frame. Both their faces filled the image, grinning widely and they really did look so alike. You found yourself smiling, jumping a little when you heard your name.

“Miss. Y/L/N!”

You followed the tiny excited voice, finding Arin in the doorway smiling shyly at you. She gave you a little wave.

“Hi, Arin,” you greeted.

That was all she needed to skip inside, sitting on the end of the couch closest to you. “Daddy told me you were coming today.” Well, at least she wasn’t surprised to find you in her living room. “He told me what he did. Silly daddy.”

You let out a polite laugh. “It’s okay, accidents happen, huh?” You couldn’t very well say your daddy was an idiot, could you? “How are you today, Arin?” You asked, changing the subject, finding yourself in teacher mode instantly. “Do you have any plans?”

“I’m okay,” she let out a comical sigh. “Daddy is taking me bowling.”

“That sounds like fun. Why are you sighing?”

“I was supposed to see my mom but she was too busy…” She answered rather dejectedly.

“Oh, that’s too bad.” You tried to think of something to say to reassure that little sad face of hers. “I’m sure she’s just as disappointed.”

Arin gave a little shrug. “She’s always busy.”

In the two months you’d been her teacher you’d never seen her mood like this. Yes, for her first week in class she’d been quiet, but that was because of nerves, today she looked deflated. You found yourself struggling for something to say, which was unlike you, especially with all your training. It was your job to reassure children after all.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.”

Your head jerked up at the sound of Seokjin’s voice. There he was in the doorway, smiling your way. There was something different about him. What was it? Oh – his clothing. You noticed eventually. He was dressed incredibly casual today – normal. A beige coloured sweater and dark blue jeans. His hair wasn’t styled, flat to his forehead and still partly wet, his skin flushed from the heat of the shower. You still couldn’t place his age. You were sure he was older than you, but by how much was difficult to say.

“Mr. Kim, hi,” you greeted, standing up for some reason. You still couldn’t bring yourself to call him Seokjin unless it was in your own head.

He walked towards you, in slippers. You didn’t know why but the thought was so bizarre. You were being ridiculous. Of course he wore slippers, why wouldn’t he?

“Daddyyy,” Arin sung, running towards him and hugging his legs. She looked up at him, asking sweetly, “Are we ready to go?”

He chuckled, rubbing her hair. “Soon, sweetie. Go and find Misook in the kitchen so you can have your snack before we leave.”

She looked at him coyly. “Can we have pizza later?”

He laughed again and gave a small shrug. “Sure. As a weekend treat.”

You watched on, not realising there was a smile on you face. They were cute together. You noticed Arin peeking at you, then she looked up at her father again. “Is Miss Y/L/N coming too?”

Seokjin had the brazenness to look across at you, raising his eyebrows expectantly, as if it was your call. Was he insane? Not only was it implausible, it was downright unprofessional. You were Arin’s teacher. Yes, for just a few more weeks, but this interaction was already out of your comfort zone.

“Uh,” you started, feeling awkward. “No, sorry, Arin. I, um, I have plans today.”

You didn’t want to let her down, but luckily she didn’t seem to mind, giving you a roll of her shoulders and a cute smile. “Okay. See on you on Monday, Miss.” And off she skipped, out the door and to where you presumed was the direction of the kitchen.

“Sorry about that,” Seokjin chuckled, stepping closer, as if he hadn’t pretty much invited you himself. What if you’d said yes? He’d have been okay with that?

You felt yourself begin to heat up at the close proximity. You had no idea why he made you feel like this, especially now. You’d handled it so well yesterday, but then again, maybe that was because there’d been a desk separating you. In a professional setting. Right now you were out of your comfort zone, out of your depth. In his home, in his living room, a mere few inches between you both. Why did you find it so intimidating? Why did you find him so intimidating?!

That face… That face with that infuriating smile, and those eyes that seemed to twinkle with amusement, as if there was a joke you weren’t aware of. Multiple jokes. What did he find so funny? Was it you? You felt instantly defensive. He probably used those good looks to unease people, to make them do as he wanted. Not you.

You took a step back, your legs brushing the love seat behind you, and reached for your purse, pulling out your cheque book. “So,” you began, hating the way your voice faintly shook. “Let’s settle. How much do I owe you?”

His smile instantly disappeared as he rolled his eyes slightly. You caught them and it made you want to fight. “You’re still on this.”

“Yes, I am,” you bristled “They washed my car too.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he groaned. “It was part of the service.”

“Just tell me how much I owe you.” You were adamant.

“No.” So was he.

“Mr. Kim.”

“Seokjin,” he corrected, a small smug smile on his face.

“Tell me!”

He brought a hand to his temple, tapping the skin with his fingers as he let out a grunt. “You know what, I can’t seem to remember. It’s been a busy week, memory’s a little fuzzy.” The grin on his face told he was messing with you.

What an exasperating bastard. You didn’t swear often, but he’d just driven you to it. Any more and it was out loud. Maybe your face gave something away because he soon changed his tune, falling serious, like he could so magically do sometimes. “Look, it was my fault, so I paid.”

You wanted to scream. “What if I had an accident in your car? Would I have to pay the damage?”

Instantly he looked worried, those perfect eyebrows furrowing in alarm. “Have you? Are you okay?”

It looked like he was about to reach out a hand to comfort you, and you panicked, rushing into explanation, taken back by his concern. “No, I’m fine. I-I was just being hypothetical.” He looked confused. “By your logic, I would have to pay, right?”

“My logic,” he mused, chuckling softly. “I’m just doing the correct thing. But yes, I suppose you’d have to pay.” He gave a shrug, that annoying smile back on his face. “Good thing there were no accidents then.”

He was probably right. You weren’t that angry to prove a point. You’d probably have to take a lifetime loan to pay the damage off. You felt defeated. What more could you do? Write out a cheque for a guesstimated amount? Imagine the humiliation if you totally undervalued it. No, maybe you should just let it go. Bite your tongue and take this “gift” from a stranger. He had backed out into your car after all, regardless if you were hovering there, he just hadn’t been paying attention. He felt a guilt, a need to repair the damage caused so you’d just let him, even if it went against everything you believed in – your morals. He could obviously afford it and never miss the money.

So you let him win this one, let him walk you to the door before you were late for those important plans that may or may not involve being sat in front of the television all evening watching sitcom reruns on the comedy channel. (He didn’t know that of course.)

“Alice in Wonderland,” he said suddenly, just as you were coming to a halt by the grand wooden door. You turned to see him grinning and looked at him questioningly. What on earth was he on about? “A famous novel that uses that ‘it was all a dream’ trope you hate.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I think someone may have been on google last night.”

He held up his hands. “Guilty as charged.”

You let yourself laugh, genuinely amused. You weren’t so nervy now, as comfortable in his presence as you were going to get. “Goodbye, Mr. Kim.”

He tutted. “If you call me that one more time I’ll be forced to take that cheque from you.”

Really? Interesting… “Mr –

“I take it back,” he interrupted quickly, realising his mistake. “But please, call me Seokjin. I get called too many formalities within the week, I hate it.”

You had to agree with that, you knew that feeling all too well. “Fine,” you gave in. “Goodbye, Seokjin.” There, you’d bitten the bullet. Calling him by his name aloud made you feel funny. “Thank you for… everything.”

He mulled over your gratitude, seemingly satisfied. “I’ll take that.” You ignored him and turned to leave. He stopped you, his hand touching your elbow and warmth spread throughout your body instantly. “Are you really taking the subway home?”

You nodded.

He looked dubious. “The nearest station is quite a walk from here.”

“How far?” Now you were too.

“Let me give you a ride there.” He offered. “I’m taking Arin downtown anyway. Her plans with her mom got changed last minute so I’m trying to cheer her up.” At the mention of his ex-wife his voice became tense, his expression darkening for a moment before he shook himself out of it, a smile back on his face. “So, what do you say?”

“Okay.” You agreed, smiling back. “You can drop me off.” In all honesty, you had no clue where you were going anyway, this part of the city unfamiliar to you. That, and your cell phone had only 20% battery life left after the palaver of trying to get yourself here. Driving you to the station wasn’t going to put him out so it was fine.

“Great. Oh, by the way,” he slipped in, as if he’d suddenly remembered something. Or maybe he was just trying to sound casual. “Are you ever going to tell me your name or do I have to live in mystery for the rest of my life?”

You grew surprised. Of course, he didn’t know your name. You’d never told him. Maybe subconsciously you’d imagined Soobin would’ve relayed that piece of information back to him, or maybe, and most likely, you’d never actually thought about it at all. No wonder you hadn’t realised. You felt almost rude.

“It’s only fair,” Seokjin said, mistaking your silence as indecision. “You know mine, and I can’t keep referring to you as Miss. Y/L/N. It’s a bit strange, don’t you think?”

That was interesting. When was he planning to refer to you again at all? Not that you needed to be persuaded. But you were being polite, that’s what you told yourself. You knew his name so like he’d said, it was only fair. There was no other reason, and of course the idea of him being curious about your name made you feel nothing whatsoever. Okay?

You gave him a quick smile, feeling a little coy for some reason. “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, murmuring it softly as the mystery unveiled itself.

That was dangerous. Hearing the syllables roll from his tongue so gently sent a rush of heat through your body. It settled on your face, tingling, and you prayed it wasn’t visible.

What the hell was wrong with you?!

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin smut #bts smut #floralseokjin:writings #fic:mls

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hesther-mcg · 4 years ago

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blue dragons, part one + chapter eight

➥ pairing: eventual asami x oc

➥ summary: the one where azula trains ursa, and gets the shock of a lifetime; or the one where a picky spirit makes himself known for the first time in ages

➥ rating: angst i suppose

➥ warnings: mentions of past abuse

➥ a/n: mnmxcnvxn this took forever to get out bc life is cray cray, haha srry folks but here we are!! this is quite an interesting chapter in my opinion, i really love the dynamic between ursa and azula and giving azula this opportunity means a lot. also this is an introduction to a certain blue serpentine spirit OoOoOoOoOo

also for clarification purposes, when ursa’s eyes glow, it looks like the avatar state but blue ya know

p1, chap seven p1, chap eight p1, chap nine blue dragons m. list

Frustration itched at every nerve in Ursa’s body, and she let out a huff. She swiped at her bangs that fell in her face as she paced back to the bench on the far side of the training yard. Her glass of watermelon juice was almost empty, and an added weight fell on her already sagging shoulders. She downed the rest of it and returned it to its spot, perhaps a little harshly, and shook her head.

A growl escaped her mouth and she screamed as she shot a large stream of fire at nothing in particular. Unbeknownst to her, Azula lurked in the shadows behind her. She had watched the Crown Princess -only thirteen years of age- train for a short while, her determination admirable and patience thinning. The older woman could see the mistakes that were made, minor in severity and easy to fix with a little guidance.

It had taken a long while for her to acknowledge the likeness between her and her young niece; she hadn’t wanted to and had adamantly denied it. But one day things just clicked, and she realized that Ursa looking like her, and thinking like her, and being as powerful as her wasn’t as bad as she thought.

Because her father was long gone.

What had happened to Zuko would never, in a million years, happen again, and what had happened to Azula surely wouldn’t either. Her older brother had proved himself to be an amazing father, and Izumi never once lived a day thinking she hadn’t made him proud. He never spoke down to her for being a girl, he never got angry because she couldn’t make up for it with bending, and he never used her for his own personal gain.

All of which were things Azula had been subjected to in her childhood, and had ultimately feared her niece would be as well, but was relieved to see otherwise. Their father, and his legacy, was long gone; and only when she accepted that fact could she truly accept her own growth and healing. And only when she accepted those could she accept that Ursa had all of her best qualities, and some of her not so best qualities, and if they were nurtured and guided correctly she could be like no one else.

“My, my, Princess; have you been out here all day?” Azula inquired as she emerged from the shadows and took slow steps to the aforementioned Princess, hands clasped behind her back and head held high just like always.

“Hey, Auntie Zula,” Ursa sighed as she bowed before rising again. “Almost; I’m going over some of the advanced moves I learned, and I’ve almost mastered them all but I can’t seem to get this last one.” She shook her head. “I’m doing exactly what my Master did, and it’s still not right. I know I’m better than this.”

“You are,” the older woman responded without missing a beat. She paced in front of her young niece. “You are better than this, this is but a mere moment in your path to mastering the element. You’re incredibly skilled, Ursa, never forget that. Before too much longer you’ll surpass your Master and they will no longer be able to do you any good. I was going to step in after that, but I can see that now is as good a time as ever.”

“Really?” One would have to be deaf to miss the eagerness laced in her question.

“Of course,” Azula turned sharply in place. “I know exactly what mistakes you’re making; though, it’s not your fault. I hate to tell you this, Princess, but your Master is a doofus.” The younger girl giggled from behind her hand. “Are you a dragon?”

The question caught Ursa off guard. “Huh?”

“Are you a dragon?” She repeated slowly. The look in her eyes was familiar, she had seen it in her father’s, grandmother’s, and great grandfather’s eyes many times before. She’d seen it in the mirror only once or twice; it was a look of true seriousness, one you could only get when, you might not know what you’re doing, but, you know that whatever it is you can do it. She tried her best to mimic it in her own matching eyes.

“Yes. I am a dragon.”

“That’s what I thought.” Azula stated smugly. “Only dragons can teach dragons, Ursa, and since The Great Dragon of the West is no longer with us, I only see it fitting that I take over as your Master. After all,” she raised one hand in front of her, and blue fire floated in her palm. “We do have twin flames.”

The pair shared a smile before Azula extinguished the flame and returned her hand to its rightful place, clasped in the other behind her back. Ursa placed one hand, fingers straight and palm pointed to the side, above the other, which was closed in a fist. She bowed deeply, “thank you for teaching me, Sifu Azula.” She rose back up and turned away from her Master. She faced straight ahead, ready for anything. “What should I do first?”

Lady Azula smiled to herself. “Your punches and kicks were good, but everything has room for improvement. You’re not putting enough power into your jump, and then not putting enough power in the flames. Let’s break it down. Take your stance.”

Ursa positioned herself in the stance she normally chose. Her grandfather had shown it to her, and she figured out that it was the one that worked easiest with her dynamic. Her left foot forward, right foot behind her. Knees slightly bent. Arms out before her, elbows slightly bent as well. Palms open, fingers relaxed. Ready to strike.

“Remember, firebending comes from the breath. Focus on the fire inside of you, and breathe in deeply; allow the air to reach the flames. Let your chi flow freely, the reason our fire burns blue is because it is pure. Your river is unblocked, your chi’s are synced and your power flows through you. Pure, clean, untethered fire. You have the power, be the thing that controls it.”

Deep breaths. Unlocked chi’s. Flowing river. The Princesses eyes had long since closed, and she envisioned all the things her aunt spoke about.

“Reposition,” Azula coaxed quieter, seeing the concentration on Ursa’s face.

The girl’s hands formed fists, clenched tightly, and her left arm straightened itself out. Her right fist drew back and rested right beside her eyes.

“Now, punch.”

It was like time moved in slow motion Her eyes snapped open before narrowing into a squint. Her brows drew together and her face scrunched up. She lunged her right fist forward, stepping into the punch with her right foot; bringing as much power as she could for the opening attack. Her fists lit ablaze, encircled with blue, and she punched a rather large fireball straight ahead. Her grunts were barely audible over the loud swoosh of the flames.

Ursa dealt one strike after the other, slowly making her way forward, sometimes ducking to avoid a blow from an imaginary opponent. “Kick,” Azula commanded loudly.

One last punch before she kicked her right leg in a half circle, flames following closely. They lingered in the air and Ursa spun around and shielded herself from view with more blue fire. “Now jump!”

A moment passed, a moment where the older woman’s breath caught in her lungs. Then, before any particular emotion could truly settle in her bones, Ursa leapt out from the wall of blue flames, a look of ferocity painting her features. She landed on her feet and sprung forward not a moment later; she took one step, two steps, three...

And on her final step she jumped high in the air, and Azula’s voice cut through the noise, “Roar!”

Flames from her feet propelled her upwards, a gust of blue, and the same shot out of her hands. Her face scrunched up as her cry echoed around the training yard, a stream of fire shooting out of her open mouth. Everything was blue, all Azula could see was blue. And all she could feel was heat.

But what really shocked her, what really made her brows scrunch together and her jaw drop, was the Princesses eyes, once a piercing golden brown, were now completely blue. The fire around her swirled and moved until it started to take form. The form of a dragon.

Of course. Of course. It made sense, everything about her fit the role.

“The Spirit of the Dragon…” She whispered in awe. It was a phenomenon that she never thought she would be alive to witness, and she would never tell a soul about the tears that filled her eyes as she watched her great niece display her sheer power.

When the roar died down, and Ursa’s flames shrunk, and she dropped to the ground, her eyes fell shut and her knees gave out. She caught herself with her hands and shook her head. With a couple groans, and a few deep breaths she was back on her feet.

“Holy shit.” A voice broke the silence. Azula turned around only to see her older brother; Zuko’s mouth hung open and his arms were limp at his side.

“That-” the Princess cut herself off to catch her breath. “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” she chuckled lowly. Her eyes flickered from her great aunt and great grandfather. She didn’t know how to feel about what had just occurred. On one hand, she knew that her family would never think any different of her for anything, they had always told her that nothing could ever make them not love her; but on the other, insecurity and fear seemed like the obvious answer.

What if they thought she was too powerful? What if they feared she would be the demise of the Fire Nation? She didn’t even know what took over her, what if it was something evil? What if, what if, what if-

“Ursa,” Azula broke her train of thought. She snapped back to reality, heart in her stomach, and looked at the older woman. “Do you know what just happened?” Dread pricked at every nerve in her body and she shook her head. Her fingers began to tremble and she clenched her hands into fists to hide it.

“That was the Spirit of the Dragon, my dear. A powerful spirit of the very first dragon; it has possessed only few people throughout history, not nearly as much as the Avatar, but hasn’t made itself known in centuries. My, Ursa,” Zuko marveled. “It chose you, how incredible.”

“I’m not-I’m not in trouble?” She stuttered.

“Of course not,” Azula shook her head and made her way to the girl, hands reaching out. They rested on her shoulders and she leaned down so their eyes met. “I know what you’re thinking, and you don’t have to worry. What happened to me will never happen to you, I promise you that. Do you know what the Spirit of the Dragon means exactly?” The girl shook her head before her aunt continued.

“The Spirit of the Dragon, like Zuzu explained before, is a very powerful spirit. It has joined with numerous people over the course of time, merging with them and bestowing knowledge and strength upon them like no other. It can’t just be anybody, however,” she paused and looked over at the bench. She motioned to it with her hand and the three of them traveled to it together, and they made sure that Ursa sat in between them. “The kind of people that the Dragon Spirit chooses are powerful, people who are destined to do great things in this world. The power to stand up to people, for people, and with people is incredible. It might sound simple, but most people can’t say they passed the test. You did.”

“We’ve known since the day you were born that you held incredible powers and an even more important destiny,” the older man took over. “But we never could have imagined this for you.” He chuckled lightly and shook his head.

Azula took that as her cue to continue. “But we’ve never, ever, feared that you would do something wrong, or that you would be too powerful for your own good. And no matter what happens, to you or to us, and no matter what you have to go through, we’ll always be with you.”

Ursa nodded her head and wiped her cheeks of any tears. Her eyes were red and swollen, but her hands no longer trembled and her shoulders only slightly shook as she calmed down.

“Now,” Lady Azula stated, her tone back to the normal smooth and sharp drawl. “Are you a dragon?”

“Yes.” Ursa looked at her and tried with everything she had to convey just how much she meant it.

“Who are you?” The question cut through the air sharply, and a moment later the younger girl's eyes changed colors again, both glowing a bright blue.

“I am Crown Princess Ursa of the Fire Nation, Heir to the Throne; I am the Dragon Princess and I have the power of the first dragon’s spirit!”

➥ tag list: @talas-starlight @ewanssdjarins @appa-gaangnam-style @strawberisapphic @avatarsnips @graciefullygracie

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littlegrrl7 · 4 years ago

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The Dragon’s Kitten

Excerpt Chapter 22

Ikemen Sengoku- Masamune/OC, Mitsuhide

Jealousy

Masamune POV

___

I’ve been unsuccessfully looking for Lily for two days, so I’m shocked when I turn the corner into the castle library, and she’s there. Holding a book open and laughing.

With Mitsuhide.

My gut clenches, and I duck back before they see me, watching through a crack in the door. Lily's shoulder is touching his, he points out something in the book, and she sounds it out.

He tells her she’s a good girl in that deep seductive voice of his.

I can feel bile rising in the back of my throat. My fists clench.

She starts sounding out the next line - he corrects her - and she frowns, puzzling over the page.

Is he teaching her to read?

Her hair falls forward, and he pulls it back, running his fingers through her curls.

I want to break his hands, how dare he touch her-

What is this jealousy?

He places his hand on her head, strokes her hair again.

I feel the growl start in my chest. I take a breath, smile, turn into the doorway.

“Mitsuhide,” I nod to him, it’s hard to keep that forced smile; I’m sure it looks more like I’m baring my teeth, “Lily, up to a little studying?”

She looks up. Her eyes light, the smile she gives me wraps me in warmth.

Spirits above, those eyes, I’d sell my soul to see them every morning for the rest of my life.

She’s beautiful in the flickering lantern light of the library. Her hair is fiery, a mass of curls tumbling around her shoulders, her skin looks almost golden. Her kimono gapes slightly, and I can almost see the shadow of freckled cleavage. Unbidden, the image of her coming undone above me runs through my mind, the sheer erotic look of her riding me. The way the light from the garden caressed her breasts. Her hair spilling down her back, her lips open…

Gasping my name…

Mitsuhide looks from me back to her, that damn snake smile curling his lips. He puts an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to his side.

I see red.

Bastard.

“I offered to teach her how to read,” he smiles, releasing her; I can see him brush the outside of his thigh against hers. Why the hell is he sitting so close to her?

“How kind of you.” I smile again, my clenched jaw ticks.

“She’s such a skilled student,” his fingers lightly brush her arm, she grins at him in adoration. “Such a pleasure to be around.”

I’m almost quivering with rage, is he fucking her? Are they lovers?

I close my eye briefly, mentally shaking off this infatuation. Lily isn’t mine. I’m the last man to even suggest commitment. Why is she even affecting me like this?

I forcibly relax my clenched fists.

“She is delightful. You two look like you are having fun.”

“You could join us.” Her voice is soft, breathy, like she’s inviting me to an afternoon tryst and not a book reading. I’ve enjoyed my fair share of threesomes. My eye darts to Mitsuhide; his expression is cloaked, appraising.

I don’t want to share her.

My brain doesn’t have time to catch up with that thought before words tumble out of my mouth.

“I was about to go riding, and I thought you might like to join me, Lily?” I ignore Mitsuhide, but I can see his thin lips curl into a smirk of amusement.

Is he fucking with me? Damn fox, I can’t tell.

“I would love to go riding with you.” She uncoils herself from the desk cushion and stands, stretching. Her arms raise above her head, back arching, slow, sensual…like she’s putting on a private show just for me. Her breasts strain against the silk of her kimono; nipples peaked against the soft fabric. I want to cup them, run my thumbs over those tight nubs. Hear her pleading cries echo in my ears like they did two nights ago.

“Mitsuhide, is it ok if I cut our lesson a little short today?” Her eyes are on him; her fingertips brush his shoulder.

Why is she touching him?

Citrine eyes flick from Lily to me, still appraising.

Has he already claimed her for himself? Is he deciding if he’s willing to share her? No, Mitsuhide never took partners for more than a night’s pleasure, if he chose to take one at all. In his line of work, it would only put his lover in danger.

His hand ghosts down her thigh, not touching, just a shadow of a caress.

I itch to draw steel.

“It’s fine, little one, take the book with you and make sure you study tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, same time.”

The hell he would.

The smile she gives him makes my chest uncomfortably tight.

How many other lovers does she have in Azuchi? She’s attractive, exotic. I shouldn’t be surprised.

Or possessive.

She’s only been in my bed once. Why am I feeling like this?

I hold my hand out to her, giving her my usual rakish smile, “Shall we, lass?”

Lily places her hand in mine. It’s soft, un-calloused. She’s not a maid, and she’s never held a weapon, who is she? What does she do to have a body that well-muscled? Why is she here?

Her hair tumbles around her face, framing it as she steps close to me. I get lost in the paleness of her eyes, the look she gives me is purely sexual.

The same look she gave me when her lips were around my cock.

I swallow hard.

I look over my shoulder as I lead her out to glare at Mitsuhide. Mine.

His shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.

Bastard, he has had her.

Read the whole story on A03 The Dragon’s Kitten

#date masamune #ikemen masamune #ikemen sengoku #mitsuhide akechi #a03 fanfic #jealousy #Mitsuhide toying with masamune because why wouldn't he?#masamune pov

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thebiasrekkers · 5 years ago

Text

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Smut, Slow Burn

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,316

Chapter 20: Silver Spoon

"They say it shouldn’t matter since we’re coming from the same place."

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Seoul – Hannam; Yongsan District South Korea

Jungkook cradled his glass of whiskey in his hands, his rings clinking against the crystal surface. There was a heavy atmosphere permeating throughout the house; thick and suffocating. So thick it could have been sliced open with a knife. Outside the occasional shuffling of house shoes on the polished floor, there was no other sound. Everyone either sat around nursing a drink or were moving around because they couldn’t keep still.

No one spoke.

Every so often, Jungkook’s eyes met Yoongi’s and, for a moment, all they could do was stare at each other. But it was always Yoongi who averted his gaze first, his body moving to occupy a different space in the main living area. Jungkook’s eyes followed him, watching and waiting for him to speak up about any part of what happened the other night. Nothing was said, however, because Hoseok’s aura practically bled out over the entire room – silencing any discussion before he could speak first.

No one had to say a thing. It was clear that something big was about to happen. Jungkook looked at his phone, waiting for the screen to light up but it never did. He hadn’t heard from Eden in a few days and there was a part of him that wondered if she’d already written him off as someone insignificant. His brows furrowed and he had to resist the urge to reach for his phone to message her.

Is she still angry? he thought, his fingers curling tighter around the glass.

The beep of the electronic lock at the front door alerted everyone. Those who weren’t already standing stood from their seats as Jimin entered the foyer. They waited for him to get into his house shoes while shaking off the cold from outside. He paused as he entered the main room, looking around at everyone peering back at him.

“Am I the last one?” he asked, looking to Namjoon.

“You are,” Namjoon replied easily while shaking his head, “but we all know why, so don’t worry about that.”

Taehyung approached Jimin, offering him a drink with his good arm. Jimin declined, making his way toward one of the couches just as Hoseok exited his office. No one made a move until he was seated, all of them falling into their seats soon after.

“Seokjin Hyung,” Hoseok began, looking straight at him as he spoke, “status report.”

Everyone watched Seokjin set a briefcase on the table, opening it and then handing out several manila envelopes to Hoseok. He quickly pulled out the paperwork inside, scanning it quickly before slipping them back inside. Namjoon turned the briefcase toward him so he could set them back inside.

“Good. Have the funds been transferred after our shares were sold?”

Seokjin nodded, closing the briefcase and setting it back down onto the floor. “They were transferred yesterday morning. I made sure that the members of the board would be self-sufficient since we pulled out from the company completely.”

Hoseok shifted his gaze to Yoongi. “And you, Hyung?”

“We reached a deal with our key broker in Chicago. I liquidated all of our assets in New York, LA and San Antonio.” Yoongi set his drink down on the table, reaching over Taehyung to hand him the tablet he always carried with him. “The funds were transferred this morning. Hard copies of the contracts were placed in our safety deposit box.”

Hoseok nodded, thumbing through the tablet before he handed it back to Yoongi. Jungkook met Yoongi’s gaze once more, but only for a split second as Hoseok spoke up again.

“Taehyung-ah,” he said, and everyone’s eyes shifted to look at Taehyung, “how are you holding up?”

Taehyung scratched the side of his nose and flashed his trademark boxy smile, shrugging off his injuries as if they were minor itches. He was on the mend, but his arm was still in a sling and he had to wear the brace around his chest for another week.

“Were you able to get your assignments finished?”

He nodded, handing Hoseok a thick manila envelope. “The clubs we owned in Incheon and Seoul were turning a big profit, so it wasn’t hard for us to make the sale. I even upped the price for the clubs in Seoul to get a little extra cash. The money was wired last night.”

Hoseok nodded, setting the envelope on the table. He clasped his fingers together as he turned to look at Jimin and Namjoon. “And you two?”

Jimin reached into his pocket and handed his phone to Hoseok. “In exchange for selling our spots in the casino, we’ll receive forty percent of all sales made for the next year. After that, it will be twenty-five percent for the next five years and then the contract will be fulfilled.”

Finally, Hoseok turned to Jungkook and he shifted involuntarily. “What about you, Jungkook-ah?”

Jungkook sighed, brushing his fingers through his hair as he set his glass on the table. “Construction is set to be completed in two months. We’ll be ready to unveil the new building in the coming new year.”

“And the boys? You reminded them to get their affairs in order, yes?”

“Yes, I did,” he said, his voice shaking a measure, “a few weren’t too happy about it, Hyung.”

Hoseok frowned. “They were told from the beginning about this happening eventually.”

“But Hyung, can’t we wait a little while longer?” He rested a hand on his knee. “For some of them, this is all they’ve ever known.”

“They’ve had five years to prepare. Some longer than that. They’ll be compensated.” Hoseok’s tone was cold and matter of fact. It was clear that he wasn’t in the mood to hear any talk going against their original plan. “That’s why we went to all this trouble to gather up so much money.”

“Hyung—”

“I’m done waiting, Jungkook-ah!” He cut him off and Jungkook leaned back slightly. No one moved and no one spoke.

“H-Hyung,” Jimin offered, reaching his hand out to grasp Hoseok’s wrist only to watch him wrench it away from him.

“No. We don’t have the time to waste anymore. We have to move, and we have to move quickly.”

“Is it because of the Jade Fangs?” Taehyung’s question tore over the building hostility, bringing everyone down to a certain level of calm.

Hoseok took a breath, sinking deeper into the cushions of the chair. Jungkook never saw Hoseok like this. He was usually the calmest out of all of them; the one who had his shit together ninety-nine percent of the time. The one who was trying to keep everyone in line when fights were on the brink of breaking out. For him to react in that manner meant that something was really wrong and the desperation in his eyes was hard to miss.

“Is that the reason, Hyung?” Jungkook asked, feeling the vein near his throat pulse.

Slowly, he rose to his feet and Jungkook stood with him. Everyone else remained seated.

“Hyung!”

“They’re making their move, Jungkook-ah,” said Namjoon as he stood up, placing a hand on Jungkook’s chest to stop him just as he took a step forward, “and they’re not fooling around about it either.”

A sharp burst of anger split across Jungkook’s chest as he glared at Namjoon, then to Hoseok. “So, we’re just going to run away? We’re going to expose our backs just when they’re ready to attack?”

Hoseok didn’t answer. Instead, he watched his older brother, their leader, folding his arms across his chest.

“That’s such bullshit, Hyung!” he shouted, throwing Namjoon’s hand off his chest. “We don’t have anything to fear from those toothless tigers! They’re all talk! Every last one of them!”

Seokjin rose to his feet, his brows knitting together with concern. “Jungkook-ah, settle down.”

He cut his eyes toward the oldest of them, teeth bared, and his fury clearly expressed. “Jin Hyung!”

“It’s true. They’ve gotten bold because they’re sure of themselves.” Seokjin pursed his lips together as he looked away, visibly turning things over in his mind. “We’ve tried to keep our activities under wraps for as long as possible, but this close to the end, they know there’s going to be a hole in Seoul’s defenses soon.” He met Jungkook’s gaze. “Gangnam and Yongsan are going to be a warzone.”

“Then let’s wipe them out,” Taehyung interjected, rubbing at the back of his neck, “then there won’t be anything to worry about.”

Jimin smacked his shoulder, causing Taehyung to hiss as he rubbed at it gingerly. “Would you shut-up? Just fucking look at you! Do you think you’re in any condition to be shit talking?”

Taehyung scoffed. “I wound up like this because of who, hm?” Jimin frowned and a smug look passed over Taehyung’s face. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“You wound up like that,” seethed Yoongi, “because you don’t know how to mind your own goddamn business.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed at Yoongi. “We wouldn’t even have this problem had we stomped those bastards out five years ago.”

Hoseok turned slowly, rounding on Taehyung. “That’s something a blithering idiot would say.”

“He’s not wrong, Hyung,” snapped Jungkook, causing the others to look at him, “we had the perfect opportunity to destroy them, but we held back. You held us back!”

Namjoon grabbed Jungkook by the front of his shirt, but Hoseok knocked him out of the way. As Namjoon stumbled a few steps to the side, Jungkook saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He saw Hoseok move and he held his hand up to catch the older man’s fist. So focused on his angry expression, something that normally didn’t rear its face in their home, Jungkook failed to see the second attack until it connected. Pain exploded around his solar plexus and the breath was knocked clean out of him. His vision blurred in and out of focus and the world fell on a tilt as gravity won out, his legs collapsing under him. Tears brimmed his eyes and he coughed hard, the urge to vomit at the forefront of his mind.

“Have you forgotten what kind of hell we were living in back then, Jungkook-ah?” Hoseok’s voice boomed, echoing inside his ear canals and his hand fell to the floor to steady himself. “Did you forget how many Jackals died to keep us alive? Because they believed in what we were trying to do for ourselves, for our families.”

Jungkook coughed again, the pain in his stomach mixing with the fire that churned inside of him. He half-growled, half-snarled as he lifted his head to glare into Hoseok’s icy stare. “No,” he groaned, “you did it for your families, Hyung.”

“Jungkook-ah,” said Yoongi, crouching down beside him. He reached around him to try and help him up but Jungkook shoved him off, causing the older man to blink down at him in surprise. “Jeon Jungkook!”

“You think money is some kinda substitute? You think that’s gonna make up for everything?” No matter how hard he tried, the tears leaked out from Jungkook’s eyes. “Toss an envelope at them and send them on their way? You’re abandoning them! We’re all they have and you’re just gonna throw them away like garbage!”

For a moment, he saw Hoseok’s icy expression melt and it seemed like he was coming back to himself. He looked at Jungkook for what he felt like was the first time all night. But there was nothing that could be said to calm the anger burning through Jungkook. Yet he watched Hoseok try; watched his boss, their brother, start to lean forward toward him.

“J-Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok stammered, but Jungkook was already on his feet.

He wiped angrily at his face, bumping shoulders with the others. They called for him, but he was past the point of listening to them anymore. Jungkook snatched his coat off the wall and slipped into his boots. Throwing the door open with a loud bang, he all but ran down the stone walkway that led to the main entrance gate to their house. His brothers were yelling for him, and he even heard a few trying to give chase. But Jungkook knew he was faster.

He’d always been the fastest.

His feet ate up the concrete as he ran toward the parking garage, hopping onto his motorcycle and revving the engine to life. Jungkook reached behind him and slammed the helmet on top of his head, the back-tire squealing, no – screaming with the rage that he wished he could have unleashed in the house. The headlight flared and he peeled out of the garage – the world speeding past him in a blur of motion and he didn’t look back.

Seoul – Cheongdam; Gangnam District South Korea

Jungkook parked his bike and ran. He didn’t care that he’d left his bike in some random parking lot. He just ran. He ran until his legs burned, until his lungs screamed in agony, and then he continued to run. He turned down one street, sweat soaking his shirt and slipping down his cheeks. The cold air stung at his pores, filled his mouth and shredded the inside of his esophagus.

Down another set of streets, he ran through crowds of pedestrians that were crossing the streets, and he jumped over benches and the dogs that people were walking. His legs pumped into the ground and the world grew dark around him. Streetlights illuminated the sidewalk and the headlight beams from cars almost blinded him. There were even a few close calls as he was almost hit by oncoming vehicles; their expletives matched with his own that he threw back at them.

He headed toward the residential area, past a children’s playground, and then for two more blocks he continued. Jungkook’s body protested, begged him to stop, but he pushed on and ignored the signs of misery that pulsed all over him.

Reaching a building, he blindly ran up the stairs and he stumbled forward, his elbows crashing into the stone, but he forced himself to crawl back up onto his feet. He jumped the last few steps until he was on the rooftop – her rooftop.

Jungkook staggered toward the door, almost losing his balance in the process. He dragged his feet forward, his body all but slamming into the door. Lifting one arm, he knocked on the door’s window until he lacked the energy to continue. Resting both his palm and cheek on the window, he could see his breath fogging up the glass.

“Noona,” he said softly, his voice barely audible from all the running he’d done, “open up. Are you there?” He turned his head so he could rest his forehead on the glass. “…please be there.”

After a few minutes, he slumped to his knees. His hands were pressed to the door, the will to continue pounding on it lacking within him. The only sound he heard, aside from his own ragged breathing, was the wind whistling harshly from that high up. At some point, the pounding of his heart drowned even that out until the darkness began to creep around his eyes.

“…Jungkook-ah, is that you?”

The voice perked him up, causing him to crane his neck so he could look over his shoulder. Standing there, holding several bags, was Eden. Her beanie was half on her head and the thick scarf she wore was wrapped several times around her neck. There was a grease stain across her cheek, stretching all the way to the bridge of her nose. Her breath came out in soft clouds as she scrutinized him.

Jungkook shakily got to his feet, his legs crying out from the abuse he’d forced them to withstand and took wobbly steps toward her. She remained standing where she was, not saying a word. He must have been a sight for her not to yell at him. He hadn’t seen her in days; hadn’t heard her voice in what felt like years to him.

Dirty, wrapped in a heavy coat, and annoyed. Just like when he’d first met her.

She’s so goddamn pretty…

Jungkook gave a weak smile. Then the world spun. He heard Eden gasp, the loud rattle of bags hitting the ground a muffled sound in his ears. He fully expected to hit the ground, but gravity was not granted its quarry for the second time that night. Small, but strong, arms held him upright – cradling him so that his weight wasn’t overwhelming her.

“What the hell, Jungkook-ah?!” Her voice held a mixture of aggravation and concern. Her hand slid over his forehead and he heard her hiss. “Jesus, you’re burning up!”

As she forced him to stand more by himself, Jungkook rocked back with all his weight – nearly falling backwards. She yelled and he felt her hands gripping onto his wrists. His legs were going to give out on him any second. Twisting his wrists, he tried to get her to let go but she held tighter.

And as the world zipped by him, Jungkook brought her down on top of him. For the second time that night, the wind was knocked from his lungs – both from impact and from Eden’s weight crashing onto him.

“Goddammit, Jungkook!” she bellowed, punching him in the chest, “What the hell is your problem, huh?!”

Jungkook let out a laugh that was soon followed by a small coughing fit. He closed his eyes and felt the tears slipping from the corners and into his ears. He heard Eden’s grunts stop and she fell completely silent. Still laughing, albeit weakly, he managed to open his eyes to look at her through his tears. Her brows were knit with worry.

“Hey, Jeon Jungkook,” she said, her cold hands touching his cheeks and then his forehead, “snap out of it, will you?”

He looked past her for a moment to gaze at the night sky. They were in the city and it was hard to see the stars. Especially from this high up. The city always drowned out the stars. For the first time in years, he missed the numerous stars that littered the vast expanse of the sky he once could see in the countryside.

For the first time in years, he missed his hometown…

“Are you listening to me?”

Eden’s voice cut through his nostalgia and Jungkook turned to focus his attention on the woman who continued to occupy his thoughts these last few months. Was it almost a year now? Was the year almost over?

She pursed her lips together – a deep expression of concern etching her features. Funny. He didn’t think he had ever seen her look like that.

He reached up to cup her cheek with one of his hands and she shrank back slightly, but not moving completely away from his touch. The pain he felt earlier seemed to fade with that realization.

“…goddamn, you’re beautiful.”

“W-What?” she stammered, blinking rapidly at him.

But he was done talking. And with what strength he had left, he slid his hand from her face to rest at the nape of her neck before pulling her down so his lips could meet hers. He felt her grip onto the front of his shirt, as though she were going to tear herself away. The muscles in his bicep grew taut, holding her in place until he felt her relax under his hold.

He kissed her slowly; carefully. Jungkook didn’t want to cross the line further than he already had. When her fingers loosened from his shirt, he took a chance and lifted his head to get a better taste of her. There was a moment when she stiffened, hesitated, before relaxing into the affection he was attempting to give her.

More tears began to fall.

Her lips were soft, warm, and inviting.

They felt like home.

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melyaliz · 5 years ago

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Fiery Passion

Paid request: For a Kori (Starfire) and Virgin!OC. Takes place during the first comic of Red Hood and the Outlaws durning the Beach scene. Instead of Roy sleeping with Kori it’s an OC.

Fandom: DC / Red Hood and the Outlaws

Pairing: Koriand'r x OC Notes: Just for fun we decided to make the Read an OC have fire powers New Name: Sam Solaris Alias: Scorcher Powers: pyrokinesis, lava manipulation immunity to fire, flight you can figure out the rest But he’s HUMAN that’s the only thing condition my friend would like

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

-------

Nerves, pushing through Sam’s body as he walked toward Jessica. This was it. This was his moment.

He was going to talk to the girl of his dreams.

Fumbling with his hands he waved slightly, “Hey” it came out more like a croke than a word. Catching in his throat and dying there the sound rotting in the space between then.

Not that it would have mattered because the didn’t even acknowledge him. She knew he was there, their eyes had met for a moment, just long enough for him to see the slight eye roll. Turning she walked away as he was invisible. Disappearing in the sea of people.

Gone.

Like his dreams, fading away as he opened his eyes in the morning.

The most beautiful girl he knew refused to know him.

The most beautiful girl he had ever seen wouldn’t even spare a hello.

Which was why now here in the present moment he still couldn’t believe that he called the woman in front of him his friend.

Woman.

Starfire, Koriand'r, Princess of Tamaran.

Objectify one of the most beautiful woman who had ever graced this and any other planet.

His high school crush and string of women after held nothing toward this true goddess in front of him. Standing in the string bikini splashing in the cool water of the Caribbean island the Outlaws were relaxing after pulling Roy Harper out of whatever craziness he had gotten himself into that day.

Sam wasn’t stupid, he could see the millions of other people watching Kori as she enjoyed the water and sun that the beautiful day offered. Many standing with slack jaws as cool droplets of crystal clear water fell off her beautiful orange skin.

She looked amazing.

“I need a drink” Jason sighed rubbing his head.

“I could use a soda” Roy nodded in agreement getting up, “And maybe some more sunscreen I’m feeling a little crispy.” his best friend shook his head muttering something about gingers and the sun causing Sam to chuckle.

“I’m good but you guys go ahead.” their teammate nodded closing his eyes for a moment just enjoying the warm rays that washed over him. Today was beautiful and he couldn’t get enough of it.

He was just drifting off to sleep when something cut off the sun’s warmth shading him. Peeking through his lid he found Kori standing over him watching him.

She was playing with her wet locks shaking out some of the seawater letting the sun do the rest to dry her beautiful main.

“Enjoying the sun?” she asked sitting on the seat next to him closing her eyes throwing her head back to enjoy the rays as well. Like Sam, she fed off the warmth. While Sam’s powers of Fire came more within Kori’s were powered by the large ball of fire above the. She was like the Star that kept the earth alive. Bright and beautiful.

And Sam felt so drawn to her,

Not that he was kidding himself. He knew women like this beautiful goddess in front of him would NEVER go for guys like him. While since high school he had gotten more comfortable talking to women but he wasn’t as much of a fool to think one like the unearthly (quite literally) creature in front of him would ever want to be with a guy like him.

“I wanted to thank you,” Kori finally said, “For having my back during our mission.”

Sam shrugged, “It’s no big deal.”

“I found your powers so fascinating.”

“M...mine?”

“It was if you pull life from the earth itself. Lava heat. Bubbling and boiling.”

“While you burn bright like the Sun in the sky,” Sam added as more of a way to remind her how amazing she was. How could he not? She was a queen among peasants.

“Yes,” she nodded agreeing with that statement, “Would you like to have sex?”

Sam chocked, total shock washing over his body as his brain did a total shutdown. “Ehhh What?” his face going hot as his powers. He wanted to pinch himself. Did the most beautiful woman of this or any other world just ask him to have sex? HIM?

“Wouldn’t Jason or Roy be better suited for you? After all, haven’t they already slept with you?” He asked also wondering WHY he was suggesting this? Should he just go with this? But the thought of being with this angel was, so shocking he couldn’t think straight.

Then there was that other matter.

He was a virgin.

Could he really please her the way other, more experienced people could?

Kori nodded at his comment before speaking, “Yes I have but the way you treat me, the way you look at me is different, others view me as a desirable sex object, you look at me like I’m a beautiful person. While our friends treat me with respect, you seem to treat me with admiration. My whole life I have been used for my body and gotten pleasure through sex, but that’s all it is meaningless and simple sex, yet when I’m around you I feel like there could be something much more than that.”

“You say that but,” Sam looks out at the vast ocean again, finding his words, “I am not experienced with any woman. In fact, I have only heard that it’s said to be the greatest experience a human could ever have.”

Kori leans forward her beautiful unearthly eyes glowing with excitement as they met his. As she leans forward Sam can see down her bikini getting a great view of her boobs, “I can not speak to the human experience but I want to experience you and only you.”

The walk back to her room was quick silent. Both of them caught in their own thoughts. Thoughts that were quickly discarded as he kissed her for the first time behind the closed door.

Her body was warm as he pressed upon her, hands exploring her exposed skin. Even though she had just gone swimming the heat of her body had nearly dried her. Her body temperature may have been too warm for some but for Sam, it felt amazing.

She felt amazing.

He feels onto the bed pulling off his own shirt as she untied her bikini top so he could get a full view of her boobs. Kori normally wore clothes that left little to the imagination when it came to the beautiful curves she had been blessed with. However, seeing her completely undress in front of him Sam felt his fingers itch to touch her.

“I just want to make you feel good” Sam whispered sitting up taking her boobs in his hands rubbing his thumbs over her nipples. Tweaking and pulling the soft sensitive nubs causing Kori’s eyes to roll back letting out a soft moan.

That sound, god it made him hard just hearing it.

She slowly pulls off her top but he stops her “Let me take care of you.” he slowly takes it off his hands brushing against her boobs playing with her tits. Her head throwing back as he starts pulling at her nipples. His fingers heating up just a little warming them sending sparks of pleasure through her body.

To his excitement, she pushed closer to his hands humming with enjoyment melting into his touch. Leaning forward Sam took her nipple in his mouth letting his tounge run over the now hard nipple causing her to gasp out his name in a short beautiful breath.

Testing his assumption Sam grazes his teeth around her nipple earning himself a low moan her body pushing forward again. She liked that. Trying to fight back a smile Sam let his teeth graze her again and again, just hard enough…

“Oh Harder”

Never mind, she wanted it harder.

Sam nipped at her hard bud earning another gasp from her. Her fingers finding his hair pulling him closer to her. Her tits felt so soft and amazing between his hands in and his mouth he felt like he could get lost there. Enjoying the way she feels around him coupled with the sounds she was making.

Was this really happen?

This beautiful body with curves that never ended, soft supple breasts that tasted warm and sweet like honey. He couldn’t get enough.

His right hand slowly curved from her breast down her waist. Fingers lightly grazing her body feeling every inch, every muscle, every dimple. Curving over her beautiful hips to where her body was only inches from his. With each nip and nibble, he made to her nipple her hips would jerk forward.

Placing the flat of his hand against her crotch Sam sighed into her tit as she once again jerked forward, this time getting some pressure back as his fingers moved over her beautiful pussy. It was already warm and as he moved lower down felt how wet it was.

He had done that.

He had made this goddess hot and wet with his mouth and fingers.

Her beautiful body seemed to melt like gold in a fire at his strokes. Fingers moving into her stroking her softly only to have to buck forward begging for more while her boobs pushed closer to his face,

He swiped again across her pussy making her moan again body squirming around him with excitement and pleasure. Again and again and again.

One finger moving it’s way into her soft pussy then again. His thumb pressing against her citrus. Her hips slowly moving up and down fucking his fingers as he continued rubbing her.

“OH YES,” She cried pushing his head closer to her chest as she rode his fingers. His mouth losing it’s grip on her nipple just enjoying the feeling of her soft supple breasts around him as she moaned and writhed over his hand.

“I need you now,” she said suddenly pushing Sam away letting his back hit the bed. He looked up at her, flushed from excitement as she reached down stroking his already very hard cock. Her beautiful red hair messed up.

Sam groaned as she took his cock in her hand stroking him again admiring him. One more stork and Sam felt his own hips jerk forward at her soft warm touch. Her hands were so soft at the memory of her beautiful tits around his face making him pulse.

Then he felt something warm and wet run across the base of his cock. Eyes jerking open he looked down to see Kori licking him once again. Eyes looking up at him with a mischievous smile. Her boobs rubbing against his balls just grazing them.

The feeling there was nothing like it.

“I… I…. oh Kori” he moaned a hand going up to his hair running his fingers through his locks trying to focus. Trying not to lose his control just yet.

“Would you like to come?” she asked before taking the tips of his cock in her mouth her warm lips softly moving over the shaft.

“I’m going to soon but,” He was panting as he felt his balls throbbing, becoming full, “I want to come inside you.”

“I would like that also,” Kori admitted giving him one more beautiful lick before moving up above him straddling him rubbing her already wet pussy over him. The friction, anticipation, it was unlike anything Sam had ever felt.

Her pussy was so soft and warm around his cock as she rode him. Hands-on either side of his head tits bouncing as she slid up and down. Both of them moaning at the beautiful feeling of the friction. Sam reached up grabbing her tits pulling at her nipples again making her moan and he felt her pussy pulse around him.

“Oh you feel so good” Kori moans, “Your hands, your cock.” she groans as she rides him harder and hard.

“I’m close” Sam mutters eyes rolling back slightly.

“Just let go my love.” Kori whispers, “I am as well, but my heat...”

“Just let go” Sam mimics her words, “I can take it, I want to feel you.”

At her words, he feels his climax overcome him coming inside her. At the feeling of his throbbing cock, Kori’s body went hot under his hands lighting up the whole room as she literally glows like the star that she is. Buring hot, the sheets under her knees smoking slightly. But Sam just groans as he feels her come over him, taking her heat letting it wash over his whole body.

Letting out a soft gasp she falls down next to him, “I have never… felt anything like that” she mutters slowly cuddling close to him enjoying the warmth that radiates from him. Sam chuckles still in awe at the beauty that is now next to him. Gently he kisses her forehead brushing back her hair from her face.

“May we do that again?” She asks looking up at him

“Right now?”

She laughs lightly shaking her head cuddling closer to him as he pulls a blanket up over them. “Just again, right now I am happy where I am.”

Sam smiled down at her as she slowly started to fall asleep, her beautiful body curved around his, “Me too” he says as he slowly follows her into dreamland.

-GET TAGGED!-

Forevers club: @royslittleharper @the-shadow-of-atlantis @xx3fsxx @daisyboobear @werewitchling @jason-redhood @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr @ocelysium @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep @cdwmtjb8

#Kori x reader #koriand'r #Koriand'r reader #Kori x oc #Koriand'r x reader #Starfire reader #Starfire x reader #Starfire smut #Kori smut #Koriand'r smut #Koriand'r x oc #Red hood and the outlaws fanifc #Red hood and the outlaws oc #Red hood and the outlaws reader #dc oc #my writing

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the-pav-archive · 5 years ago

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500 Follower Raffle Prize (A.K.A. something that is looooong overdue)

It’s been a long time since the announcement for the raffle winner was made, and I’ve finally got the prize for our lovely winner @jirouisbestgirl done!

Instead of a sticker, a playlist themed around Denki Kaminari was requested (which you can listen to here!)

And for the writing piece, our winner requested some angst between her OC and Denki! I put my own little spin on it with the Blossom AU (an AU of my own design that I will elaborate on more some day), and I hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count: 1,774 words

Blue eyes set on that glowing screen, wide with disbelief and watering with betrayal. It couldn’t be legit.

It could not be legit. She refused to believe that it was.

Fingers tapped the play button again, shaking as they were drawn back from the glass.

“Please be someone else, please be someone else…..” She muttered under her breath, watching as the video came to life once again.

“Come on, Buki! Kiss him!” A voice called off camera, causing a couple of cheers to echo close to the camera. A young woman with red pigtails (very vaguely familiar) entered the frame, looking at whomever was videoing what was happening and sticking her tongue out slightly. “I’m going, I’m going!” She laughed, heading to a familiar head of blond hair. And- when she tapped on the shoulder that belonged to said blond- he turned around, offering her a grin. It was less than a fraction of a second later when her lips were on his, arms around his neck and fingers tangling in his hair. And it took even less time for his hands to go to her hips, pulling her closer and rubbing small circles on them with his thumbs. Cheers erupted around the person filming again, and when the two pulled apart from their kiss, they shared a soft look. After a few brief seconds were filled with the pulsing of music and the sight of the pair talking, the screen went black.

Already feeling the telltale poke of flowers coming through her skin, she choked down a breath, those tears flowing down her cheeks like a river as those blue petals rested just above her skin. Hands shaking as she sent a text back to the person who had sent her the video, she barely had even sent it before the tears blurred her vision. Dropping her phone on her pillow, she curled into herself, letting it all out.

Not only had Kaminari lied to her about the night before- he claimed that he had been feeling under the weather- but clearly, he and this other girl were very comfortable with each other. Way too comfy to have been ‘just friends’.

Gripping tightly onto her blankets, the ravenette fell asleep after what seemed like an eternity of tears, the dark and fleeting embrace of sleep one that she ran into gratefully.

~~~~~~

The next day, everyone knew that something was up when Ayumi walked into the main school building with morning glories framing her face and peppering her exposed skin. Most looked at her with sympathy, bright smiles with sad eyes briefly acknowledging the pain she was feeling. Others steered clear of her, weary eyes settling on her as she walked past.

You never really knew what could’ve caused the flowers to bloom unless you were there- and you really wouldn’t want to be the asshole that caused even more of them to bloom.

The soft clopping of hooves nearby snapped Ayumi from her thoughts, and when the familiar voice of her friend hit her ears she looked to her left.

“I’m going to throw hands with him.” Galil muttered, his voice just barely above a low and rumbly growl. “I am actually going to kick his ass.”

“Don’t, Gal…..” The ravenette muttered, looking down to the floor. Another flower popped up on her skin, petals unfurling and adding to the freckles of flowers on her body.

“But what he did was shitty!” The satyr-like teen burst out, those honey-colored eyes blazing with anger. Red larkspur flowers began to seemingly sprout from his curly hair, growing around his ram-like horns. “He fucking cheated on you, Ayumi! That shithead lied to you, and I’m not going to excuse it. Period!” His hands balled themselves into fists, nails digging into his palms as his voice went down into that deep growl once again. “He better fucking hope that he and I don’t get paired up when we do fight training today….. I’m not going to hold anything back if we do.”

Letting out a sigh, the girl’s gaze stayed on the floor, taking a deep breath in in an attempt to keep more of those flowers from coming out of her skin. She blocked out Galil’s ranting for the moment, only really snapping back into reality when she realized he had stopped.

The pair continued to walk in silence until they got to the classroom that they resided in for a better majority of their day, entering and heading to their respective seats.

Ayumi- once seated- retrieved her notebook from her schoolbag, opening it and briefly looking through the pages. All along them, there were little pen doodles- hearts with ‘Denki’ scribbled in them, amongst other little things. And each and every one of them she tore out, balling them up and soon creating a small pile of wadded-up paper on her desk. When she finally got to a blank page she stood up abruptly from her desk, grabbing those balled-up papers in a tight fist and heading to the front of the room to throw them away. Along the way a couple of the flowers adorning her skin fell off, drifting slowly to the floor and waiting to be crushed underfoot.

When that voice that she had once loved called out to her met her ears, she simply ignored it, more flowers blooming from her flesh on her way back to her desk.

Denki’s brows furrowed in confusion, having been quite used to receiving a warm but shy smile from Ayumi instead of the cold shoulder he had received. “What the…..?” He muttered softly under his breath, hand lowering from the small wave that it had been poised to do. Watching as his girlfriend made her way to her seat at the back of the class, his gaze caught the flaming eyes of Goatman (as he had mentally dubbed the Greek exchange student). That burning look spoke volumes about something- and, with one single finger making a slicing gesture across his throat and a gesture to Ayumi with his head- the true meaning of the fire behind the Grecian teen’s eyes and the flowers weaving through his hair and horns was revealed.

Somehow, Kaminari had done something to upset Ayumi. And there would be hell to pay if he didn’t make up for it.

Brows furrowing in thought, the blond didn’t even notice that Aizawa-sensei had come in and was starting to teach that day’s lesson. He was preoccupied with going over just about every single thing that he had done over the past few days, trying to figure out what was wrong. It was only Thursday, so it had to have happened either over the weekend at some point or during the week.

A buzzing in his pocket snapped him out of his thoughts. And- as discreetly as he could- he slid his phone out of his pocket, looking at the message that had been sent to him.

[Mina 🌺: I think I know why Galil looked like he was about ready to kill you when you looked at Ayumi.]

Expression turning into one of relief for a moment, it quickly morphed into curiosity as Denki typed away at his phone screen.

[Tell me!!!! I don’t want to be ground-pounded by Goatman. And I wanna make my baby feel better.]

The moment that little message was sent off Denki looked up, letting his phone rest on his leg as he pretended to take notes, anxious for his friend’s answer. When that telltale buzz vibrated against his leg his hand immediately flew to the screen once again, topaz gaze scanning the contents of the message.

[Mina 🌺: I think they know about the party from yesterday. And I think someone posted the video of your smooch with that chick from class B.]

Eyes widening, the blond had to keep himself from cursing out loud, taking in a deep breath to help keep the flowers he could feel prickling underneath the surface of his skin from popping out and blooming. Briefly his head turned, looking at his pink-haired classmate with wide eyes and a look of shock on his face. The moment Aizawa called him out on it, though, his gaze snapped to the front of the class, and he paid attention for just a couple of moments before looking down at his desk, holding his head in his hands as the wave of guilt crept into his throat, becoming a lump that made it hard to breath for a couple of moments.

Sure, he and that chick had flirted a bit. And sure, they had kissed. But it was something that was more on the downlow since he had started dating Ayumi- at least on his end. His casual little flirts were meant to be a jesting thing. Quickly reaching down to unlock his phone, he quickly went to swipe through the messages that they sent back and forth, cursing quietly under his breath.

“Shit…..”

That telltale poke of flowers coming through his skin began to itch all over his face and neck, the marigolds almost blocking his vision in his left eye entirely as they bloomed on his skin. The monotonous ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to get even louder, the repetitive sound enough to drive someone mad if they focused on it for too long.

God, Denki just wanted class to end.

The moment that the bell rang to signal the starting of their lunch period he was up out of his seat like a rocket, heading to the.back of the class. “Ayumi, I-”

“Don’t fucking talk to her, you fuckin’ cheater.” The venomous tone in Galil’s voice- had it been legit poison- would’ve killed Denki on the spot. Standing up, the satyr-like teen put himself between Ayumi and the blond.

Very briefly looking over at Denki, Ayumi’s eyes widened before she tore her gaze away, even more morning glories popping from her skin. A faint sniffling sound could even be heard from her as she quietly gathered up her things.

This sight made Denki’s heart squeeze tightly in his chest, and a couple more marigolds bloomed, resting in his hair. “I’m sorry, I-”

“If you were sorry, then you wouldn’t have gone behind her back to some party and made out with some random chick! You broke my best friend’s heart!” Galil practically shouted, slamming his hand down on a desk as more larkspur sprouted in his messy curls. Eyes flashing, a low and warning growl filled his voice.

“Get the hell outta my sight, Denki. And don’t ever come near Ayumi again. You don’t fucking deserve her.”

#500 follower celebration raffle prize #500 follower raffle prize #yandere-hero-haven

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sweetlangdon · 6 years ago

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From Eden: Chapter 7

Notes: Michael Langdon x Reader/OC. Evil Power Couple fic. It’s difficult to write a summary for this one, because I don’t want to give away the twists. (It’ll also include canon rewrite/divergence for the later half of the season.) It has plenty of angst and fluff, and a bit of character study.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, murder, graphic violence.

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Also Available on AO3

The Hotel Cortez had called to him. His father had reached out from the void to guide his path, and so he ended up on the doorstep of a hell mouth. It looked rather innocuous from the outside—a seedy, rundown Art Deco relic left to decompose in a back alley. An echo of its former grandeur. Michael supposed it had all of the right elements to act as a conduit for his father’s influence. That familiar rush of darkness ghosted along his skin before he even set foot in the lobby, coiling tightly around him as if it was oxygen to his starved lungs.

Michael breathed it in, greedy for it, confidence swelling in his veins, his hands flexing at his sides. Power hummed across his fingertips, burning as if he’d held them into an open flame. The only other time he had felt his father’s presence so close, so all-consuming was the night of the Black Mass, where he’d affirmed his title as Satan’s heir. A hint of brimstone caught his senses, just a trace of it when the air shifted as he walked through the vacant lobby.

He smirked, chin tilted up, and folded his hands behind his back. The tacky, stained carpet muted his footsteps. Around every turn the Cortez seemed endless and identical; doors stretching in every direction, the hallways casting more shadow than light. It was dim and outdated, gaudy in a way that made Michael’s skin itch.

Agony seeped from the walls. Souls cried out for mercy, for salvation they would never find. The screaming and wailing would never stop. They would never escape, never know peace.

Michael kept walking.

A melody broke through the deafening quiet, the distant weeping and torment. Michael paused in the middle of a hallway, head cocked to one side, brow knit together. Someone was whistling; the sound of a children’s lullaby floated into the hall from one of the rooms up ahead. A fragile, golden orange light spilled onto the carpet from an open door and flickered against the wall opposite like someone had lit a fire.

Michael hurried toward it, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. He stopped just short of the doorway, arms falling to his sides. His lips parted as his jaw dropped a little and he tried to register the sight in front of him.

This room was different from the others.

It was all dark walls and dark, rich wood and elegance—a study full of bookcases and glossy, modern furniture with a large fire burning at one end. Michael stepped over the threshold, pulled forward by some force or feeling inside of him. His ice blue gaze swept over the room, taking in little details like the arrangement of animal skulls on the mantle and the table against the far wall that displayed what he assumed was an expensive liquor collection.

He noticed the man last. Or maybe he hadn’t been there a moment ago. Michael didn’t know for certain.

The man rose from behind an ornate desk as if he’d been expecting Michael’s arrival. As if, somehow, they’d had an appointment.

He cut an imposing figure in a tailored, slate gray three-piece suit. There was a dusting of light gray at his temples, his hair the color of ink and slightly tousled. A handsome amount of stubble shadowed his jawline; Michael guessed that he was maybe in his late forties by some terrible estimation. There was something familiar about this man’s moss green eyes, the sharp slope of his nose, the knowing grin that pulled at a corner of his lips, but Michael couldn’t immediately place it. The silver chain of a pocket watch glinted in the firelight as the man stepped toward the far table.

“Hello, Michael.” His voice was smooth, accented. “Would you care for a drink?”

“Sure.” Michael remembered himself—the manners instilled in him by Constance Langdon were impossible to forget, even now—as he neared the man, his steps wary. “Thank you.”

Amber liquid flowed into two crystal glasses from an old bottle. Michael thought he saw a date on the label that suggested somewhere within the 1700s, but he couldn’t be sure, faded as the label was. The man handed one glass over to Michael before he picked up the other, letting it dangle between his fingertips for a moment. He then held it aloft between them, tipping it slightly. The firelight illuminated the amber in his glass and a small, silver ring that adorned the man’s thumb.

“To you, Michael Langdon,” he declared, “Long may you reign.”

He clinked his own glass against Michael’s, that meaningful—and perhaps proud—grin spreading across his lips.

The drink shot like fire down his throat and burned straight through his chest. He stifled a cough and took another sip. Michael had no idea what it was, but it sent an instantaneous, pleasant buzz to his fingertips and toes.

“You certainly are your father’s son,” the man told him. He spoke as if he’d known Michael for his entire life, known things about him that he’d yet to learn. The thought was a little unsettling. “What an honor it is to finally be in your presence at last.”

Michael cradled the glass between his palms. “I’m sorry,” he started, peering up at the man with a slight shake of his head, gaze narrowing in confusion. “Do I know you?”

“No, you wouldn’t. Our paths may have run parallel, you and I, but there was no reason for them to cross. Well, not until now, at least. You’re far too young, Michael, and I am something much more ancient.”

The man’s eyes suddenly turned from dark green to pure black, the whites of his eyes like twin smudges of charcoal. Michael had never seen anything like it before, but he understood. In his soul—the part of him bred for nothing but sin and chaos and destruction—he knew all too well what it meant. Michael’s chin rose, assessing, his small, weighty exhale audible between them.

“But,” the man continued, his eyes returning to their normal color as he looked at Michael over the rim of his glass. “You know someone who’s very dear to me. And it’s time that we met.”

***

Her room smelled of sandalwood and jasmine, like it always did. Although his visits to her home were far fewer than the time she spent at his, the scent always clung to her hair, lingered in his room and on his clothes. He’d grown used to it. It had become a constant in a life so full of sudden, irrevocable change. Michael had noticed it on the bedding in his room at Hawthorne and in the wake of her departure the other night. It stayed on his uniform the next day as they recited incantations, his thoughts pulled to her whenever a remnant of sandalwood and jasmine drifted into his senses.

Michael found himself disappointed, even lonely, when the scent finally faded.

He’d missed her, too.

In the beginning, it had been curiosity that had drawn Michael to her. He’d felt her power, that same intoxicating darkness that resided in his veins, before he’d even seen her. Now, it was something else entirely. Something he couldn’t even measure, let alone name. She never expected anything from him, and that’s what made her different from everyone else who circled around him.

They all trailed behind him, casting him as their leader—whether he had a say in the matter or not—and she always matched her steps with his, always gravitated to his side. His only friend. His equal. His partner, for whatever destiny demanded of them.

And now he understood why.

Michael stood like a silent shadow, the room dark around him except for the soft glow of the candles that scented the air. It was tidy, only because she’d spent so many hours locked away in here avoiding the chaos of her parents.

She cleaned when she was anxious, to quell the panic in her chest by keeping her hands busy, her mind preoccupied. Michael remembered the first time she’d seen the appalling state of his bedroom a week after they’d met outside her aunt’s house.

It had taken her seven days to show up at Ms. Mead’s door again, seven days to process the truth that she somehow knew had been there all along. Michael had watched her pace the room, afraid to look him in the eye, afraid to get too close, her hands frantic and her voice shaking as she asked him about everything except that book she’d let him borrow. Michael’s room was spotless by the time she accepted his answers and the burden that came with being in his orbit.

Michael had been charmed by it. By her.

That seemed like a lifetime ago.

Michael’s cloak rippled around his ankles, his steps quiet. His fingers skirted across the organized row of books on one of her shelves and paused at a silver frame sitting at the edge. He picked it up, thumb passing over the photograph inside: the two of them on Ms. Mead’s porch. They were sprawled over the front steps, his arm across her shoulders, both of her arms wrapped around his middle. She had her eyes closed—Michael grinned at the memory of tugging her into the frame, catching her by surprise—but her smile was bright, her face pressed into his side.

He hadn’t even looked at the camera. His attention was on her, that boyish face he could now barely recognize lit by a beaming smile. It all seemed so normal. So simple, then. Michael couldn’t help the involuntary pang of sadness that hit him in the gut out of nowhere; the nagging whisper that crept into his thoughts when he gave in to doubt. What if they had strayed off the path? Would fate still catch up to them?

He set the frame down and rounded the corner of her bed, sinking into the edge by her hip. The power he carried into the room with him hadn’t roused her. She was still asleep, curled up on her side, her lips parted slightly, her hair fanned out across the pillows. The book she’d been reading before she drifted off had slid out of her hands and onto the tangled up sheets next to her.

Michael had cared for—loved—so few people in his short life who’d genuinely loved him in return. He almost wasn’t sure what it felt like. If it was real and honest. If he had the capacity for it, being who and what he was.

But her… She made him believe in the possibility.

Inhaling the scent of sandalwood and jasmine, Michael reached out and stroked her hair gently. A few moments passed before she stirred with a soft groan, blinking up at him.

“Hi,” she rasped, her voice still thick with sleep.

Michael laughed. “Hey.”

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know.” He withdrew his hand, watching her gain her bearings as she sat up. “Late.”

Her eyes widened. “Look at you,” she gasped. Her fingers seized the fabric of his cloak. She ran her thumbs over the intricate silver clasps, admiring the detail before she became distracted by the new clothes he’d acquired. “Are capes regulation at Hawthorne now?”

“Not exactly.”

“Oh, so it’s just you,” she answered. Her smile was all sarcasm, betraying the look in her eyes. Michael couldn’t quite read it, but there was something in her gaze that seemed to soften his roughest edges, now more than ever. Something that kept him human. “Figures.”

She yawned and stretched like a cat, then gathered up the book that had tumbled into the bed sheets. Michael caught the gilded cover in the candlelight before she left it on the bedside table.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Paradise Lost?”

“I was studying.”

Michael stared at her, a smirk forming on his mouth. “For class?”

She yawned again and tucked one leg under the other. He moved a little closer, and her fingers found their way back to his cloak. “Not exactly.”

Her eyes hadn’t left him since she woke up, her expression soft, her hair mussed from sleep. Michael always felt safe with her, comforted by having her beside him. Despite all his outbursts and dark impulses, he never wanted her to feel like how her parents made her feel when she was with him.

She reached out and kneaded her fingers into his hair. Michael leaned into her touch, his eyelids falling shut. He couldn’t stop the tiny sigh that escaped his lips as she massaged his scalp and played with strands of gold. “Your hair looks longer.”

“Does it?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed. “You know, I should be used to all of this by now, but some of it is still so…surreal.”

Her thumb traced the mark behind his ear, a delicate, feather-light touch. Warmth blossomed up the back of his neck and the tips of his ears as if he’d just taken another sip of whatever drink he’d had at the Cortez.

“If I had hair as beautiful as yours, I’d let it grow out, too,” she mused. “Please don’t get any bright ideas if you’re ever bored at that school. Teenage boys can be insufferable and stupid—I can’t imagine how magic would factor into that equation in large groups.”

Michael opened his eyes. “Are you calling me insufferable?” He tilted his head, offering her an equally crooked grin.

She matched it. “Only sometimes.” She untangled her fingers from his hair and he found himself missing the warmth, the gentleness of her hands. “So, does this mean you’re taking the test? Because, I mean—no offense, I’m glad you’re making progress and everything—but this arrangement is shitty.”

He folded his hands over the one she’d buried in his cloak and she inched ever closer, her knee bumping into his thigh. He remembered a time when the barest of touches would make him flinch, but that fear had long since passed. “It won’t be for much longer,” Michael promised. “I had to persuade Cordelia—get her attention. I’ll take the test in two weeks’ time.”

“I can only imagine what you had to do to convince her.”

“A grand gesture.” Michael kept his palm pressed to hers, brushing his fingertips across the small bones of her knuckles with his other hand. He dropped his eyes to their hands while he spoke. “Do you know anything about the Hotel Cortez?”

When he looked up again, she was shaking her head. “No. Why?”

“My father led me there,” Michael told her, finally lacing their fingers together, “and I met your father.”

The storm of emotion on her face tore at him; bewilderment and shock and hurt clamored for space all at once. Her eyes were like glass, her fingers tightening around his as she took an uneven breath.

“No,” she answered. “My father—Michael, whoever you met, it can’t be—”

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Michael said. “Those questions you’ve always had about who you are…he can give you the answers. He’s your true father, just as Satan is mine. He can help you understand your place in all of this.”

She sniffled, and a few tears glistened down her cheeks in the soft glow of the candles. “I’m someone else’s daughter,” she whispered. She recoiled and wrenched her hands away from his, tucking them into the long sleeves of her shirt as if the realization had scorched her flesh. “No wonder my mom’s so fucking afraid of me all the time. She knew, didn’t she? They probably both knew and that’s why—”

“Listen to me,” Michael told her, calm as he could manage, taking her tear-streaked face in his hands, “you don’t need them—fuck them. They were never going to care about you—we were born to families who could never accept us. From here on out, it’s just you and me and Ms. Mead. You’re not going to be alone. All right?”

She nodded, and he leaned forward, his lips brushing the top of her head. A habit leftover from his grandma that he couldn’t quite break, though that connection had long since been lost. “Will you go with me?” She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “To meet him?”

Michael promised her that he would.

***

It had been five days since Michael had upended everything she thought she knew about herself. She realized quickly that she’d never really known anything at all. There had been a part of her, however small, that feared the truth as much as she’d been desperate for it. She was made of something sinister, the darkness guiding her power, whispering into her soul, her thoughts, her impulses. She’d been made to destroy, to desire chaos and fire and blood.

She had wanted to confront her mother about the truth, but instead she reined in the anger that simmered for days, fearful of exactly how it would manifest. They crossed paths so rarely now that it wouldn’t have mattered. She and her parents were nothing more than strangers to each other. Her mother, who hadn’t wanted to be a mother at all, and her father, who had stared into the eyes of someone else’s child for years and years, accepting her lie.

Michael had returned to Hawthorne and she ended up in Miriam’s kitchen, her haven in moments of personal crisis. She’d still been trembling from the news, her stare vacant, lightyears away, maybe in a different realm entirely. Miriam had praised Satan, breathless at the idea of having yet another connection to his inner circle within the walls of her home.

It was the first time since they’d met that she questioned Miriam’s care for her, and for Michael.

It wasn’t a particularly comforting thought.

Michael loved the woman fiercely, led by his need to be accepted, guided. It blinded him, and until then it had blinded her, too, as Miriam had tended to the wounds left by the people who were supposed to be her blood. Even the suggestion that Ms. Mead’s love was inspired by the power they held and Michael’s title, his power, and not just him—the lost, motherless boy—made her stomach turn.

She couldn’t bear the thought. He’d shatter, and she didn’t want to be the one responsible for it.

She kept her mouth shut.

***

I’ll be right behind you, Michael promised, his voice resonating in her wake as she materialized in a dimly lit hallway. He wants to see you first.

There was something about the Hotel Cortez that made her skin crawl.

She supposed it was a visceral, human reaction to the sounds that traveled through the walls, the shadows that darted around corners. She padded down a long hallway, the heels of her boots shuffling on the patterned carpet, the hem of her black dress trailing behind her. Miriam had taken her shopping for the occasion, insisting that jeans wouldn’t be proper for such an important meeting. She’d had to agree, and since Michael was now dressing the part, she figured it was only right that she would do the same. It was a simple dress, but sophisticated; slightly shorter in the front than in the back and sleeveless. She’d slipped a black leather jacket over it, which paired well with her vintage-style Victorian boots.

The screaming in the walls became unbearable. Her stomach twisted in knots as the voices pressed in from all sides. Underneath all of that, she felt something else, ethereal and strong, winding around her. It was dizzying, overwhelming, swelling like a wave. She let it in, led forward by it, the darkness reaching out to whisper in her ear. It was louder in here than it ever had been in her life.

She’d never felt confidence like this before. Strength. Power. Raw and unmatched and hers to claim.

A haunting children’s lullaby pierced the silence. There were no words, but she knew the melody being whistled as if she’d dreamed of it before. As if it had unlocked a memory somewhere that she’d forgotten.

There was a door open at the end of the hall, golden light beckoning her to step inside. She followed it like a moth to a flame, the answers she’d always sought just within reach. The whistling stopped when she crossed the threshold into a study, books with their shining titles winking at her from several tall bookcases, black paneled walls somehow warm and inviting. Gold flittered across sleek pieces of furniture and made the room several degrees hotter than the hallway had been.

A man leaned against a wide, polished desk, dark green eyes sparkling in the firelight. The same dark green of her own eyes, she realized, in the moment that suspended between her and this man. Her and her father.

He didn’t look anywhere near as ominous as she’d envisioned—her nightmares had come with claws and talons and all sorts of demonic imagery—but maybe he kept that part hidden. He wore deep gray, this man who looked so much like her; a starched button down shirt paired with a waistcoat and tie. His coat had been draped across the desk behind him, his hands planted on either side, fingers curled around the edge of the desk. She noticed he’d gone gray at the temples, his hair a few shades darker than her own. But they had the same nose, the same curve in their lips.

Her legs trembled, so she took her steps slow. She wondered if he could hear the panicked beat of her pulse. A gentle smile tugged at his mouth, far softer than anything she could’ve imagined. He pushed off the edge of the desk and moved toward her. She watched, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, as he folded his arms around her.

“My beautiful baby girl,” he said, and she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to react to that. She wasn’t sure how he expected her to react. Her father, so inhuman yet wearing such a kind face. A stranger in her life, too. But one she was anxious to know. “Welcome home.”

She let him embrace her, thankful that it only lasted a few moments because she didn’t return it. He held her at arm’s length, apparently unperturbed by her coldness, dark gaze sweeping over her. She tried to make sense of how her life had become this. It had always been this, really; she was just waking up to it.

Coming home.

“I apologize for my absence in your life, and for leaving you with those wretched people.” He had an accent that she couldn’t immediately place, but it was polished and melodic. “My distance was warranted, I assure you, though it may not seem fair to you. Your mother was not always so indifferent toward you, either, but sadly that’s in the past.”

“Did she know about you?”

“No.” He let go of her arms and she shifted on her feet, putting space between them. “Not immediately, at least. When we met here at the Cortez all those years ago, she assumed I was just like her. A stranger passing through; maybe a little lonely and desperate. Our connection was fleeting—nothing more than simple lust after one too many drinks.”

“And then she found out she was pregnant,” she finished.

He hummed by way of confirmation. “She only began to suspect something was amiss when I came to see you in the hospital the night you were born,” he explained. “She’d never told me she was with child, but of course I knew. It was my job to know.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The implication that some demon had knocked up her mother, that her existence had been planned without her mother being aware, hit a raw nerve. She may have resented the woman who’d given birth to her, but no one deserved that. It wasn’t quite as horrific as Michael’s conception, but it still left a bad taste in her mouth.

“My dear girl, you were brought into this world with a purpose,” he told her. “There are countless legions who serve Michael’s father, yet I am fortunate enough to be among the chosen few that he holds in highest regard, to govern them. As you can well imagine, this requires a certain level of trust…and responsibility.”

He took up his spot in front of the desk, leaning against it. She was grateful to have room to breathe, to process. “It’s your birthright—you’re meant to lead armies raised from Hell itself and see this world become nothing but fire and ruin. To stand at Michael’s side and rebuild a new world in his father’s image. You have power within you that you’ve only just begun to understand. You’re a leader, my darling girl. A warrior forged in hellfire.”

“We were always meant to find each other.” She knew that already. She’d felt it so deeply in her soul. “Still, that’s a lot of legacy to push onto someone. Not just me, but Michael, too.”

“You were born for it. The both of you,” he said, as if it was an acceptable explanation.

Where she had wanted to find some sense of identity in his words, something that would make her whole, the truth just left her hollow. Did he love her, this man? Were demons capable of love?

“I wanted the connection between the two of you to form on its own, with as little outside influence as possible. But I admit, I never anticipated just how strong it would be. He cares a great deal for you—Michael. Considers you his equal, his partner in all things. It’s a great honor. You’ve made me proud.”

“We’re human,” she challenged, not taking the bait of his praise. “Maybe you forgot that part: our human mothers.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and elected to ignore the venom lacing her words. “You mean the mother who wanted to murder him in his sleep?” he countered. “And as for your mother…well, I don’t believe I have to remind you of her own failings.” He sighed as if he’d grown exhausted by her stubbornness. “Your humanity will always be a weakness, but it’s something that can be overcome.”

“I don’t see it as a weakness.” She dared a step closer for the first time, her eyebrows pulled together as she frowned.

He waved a hand. “Agree to disagree, then, I suppose. It does complicate things a fair bit, all of those messy human emotions.”

“It’s shit sometimes,” she conceded, “but those messy human emotions are why Michael and I are so close, you know.”

“I’m afraid you’re trying to explain a concept with which I’ve never understood,” he relented. “I am not duty-bound to govern whatever emotions you may or may not have,” he told her, annoyance clear in his tone. “I’m concerned with the power that lies in your veins, my dear girl. You’ve been summoned here not just because I wished for us to meet, but because it’s time for you to realize your full potential.”

His eyes lifted to the doorway behind her, and she turned halfway to see Michael there, dressed just as he’d been the other night when he had visited her. He took long, graceful strides to get to her side, his cloak billowing around his legs. Relief flooded her chest, the anxiety and remnants of whatever frustration she’d directed at her father ebbing away once she felt Michael’s arm brush against hers. It must’ve not left her expression entirely, though, because the grin on Michael’s lips faded.

“Are you all right?” Michael wanted to know. Her father paid no mind, circling around the desk to rummage in the drawers.

She sighed and let her knuckles ghost along his. “I don’t know.”

“How fortuitous that you’ve joined us, Michael.” Her father straightened up, and she caught the glint of cold metal in his palm. She immediately tensed at the sight of the knife as her father approached. “I was about to summon you myself.”

Michael’s pale gaze fell to the knife, too, eyes wide with a note of panic. She leaned into Michael’s shoulder and his fingertips laced with hers for just a second, a touch of reassurance. “What’s this about?”

“The night you were born, I put a leash on your power,” her father said. “Once we undo it—and we’ll need Michael’s help for this—they will grow stronger over time. And Michael, this ritual is meant to bind the two of you together. Her power will never eclipse yours—”

“That wouldn’t matter to me,” Michael said.

“In any case, the binding will forever link her power to yours,” her father finished. His gaze turned to her. “You’ve felt it before, haven’t you, then? How your power fortifies in his presence?” She nodded. “This ritual will make that work for both of you, like a well from which you will be able to draw from.”

“And what if we don’t want that? Or…any of this?” she asked, her throat dry, voice suddenly rough.

“You say that as if you think you still have a choice.” Her father laughed, a low and somewhat derisive sound.

She glanced up at Michael and recognized the flash of doubt in his expression, the conflict beneath whatever confidence he’d gained over the last few weeks. It was still there, even if he didn’t say a word. His gaze flickered down to her own and he seemed to understand what she already knew. We’re trapped.

Their lives had been planned before either of them had been conceived, and now it felt like there was no escape, no way to turn back. She shuddered to think of the consequences if they even made the attempt. The idea of Michael’s birthright had always seemed so abstract that she never really grasped the consequences of it being brought into fruition. And now that her own legacy was entwined with his, it all seemed too real, moving far too quickly for her to catch up.

Turning the world into fire and ash had felt like the only option when all she had was anger in her blood, when the world had been nothing but cold and unkind to the two of them. But now that they had each other, did she really want this? Did Michael?

But neither of them had a say in what they wanted. They never did.

“Oh, come now,” her father chided. They watched him gather several candles from a table between two couches. He set them up in a wide circle in the middle of the room, their off-white color stark against the glossy black hardwood floor. “It’s not all bad, I assure you. Power beyond your wildest comprehension, anything you could ever wish for. The world laid out at your feet, yours to rule and reconstruct however you see fit. I could think of worse destinies, darling.”

Once the candles had been laid out, he passed a hand over them, igniting the wicks all at once with a quiet gust of power. “Dreadfully human,” he grumbled. “The both of you.” Michael’s eyes found hers again as he inhaled a deep breath. She felt his fingers slip between hers and held on tightly, her stomach coiling into a knot again. “Time to cast aside whatever reservations you may have—whether you want to or not. You’re both here because Satan commands it. And you would do well to remember that he’s not one to cross.”

He rolled up one of his sleeves to the elbow, then pressed the tip of the blade into his flesh, dragging a line up the inside of his arm. Crimson ran in steady beads downward, droplets raining onto the floor. He lowered into a crouch, working quietly and efficiently with a precision that she assumed had been acquired through practice. As she and Michael stepped closer, they saw the inverted pentagram mapped out on the floor inside the circle of candles.

Her father pulled himself back up to his full height. “Remove your jackets and shoes,” he instructed. “Then I’ll need you both to stand inside the circle.”

There was rustling of fabric as they tugged off layers, not a word spoken between them. Michael draped his cloak and jacket over the back of a chair, and she tossed her own leather jacket on top. She had to sit down to get off her boots—too many laces to untie—and by the time she’d done so, Michael had already dropped his shoes and socks onto the floor. He reached for her hand again, like it was a lifeline, an anchor, and she twined their fingers together, grateful for it. Her hands were already slippery with sweat, but Michael didn’t seem to mind, his grip around her fingers so fierce that she thought their hands might go numb. He was afraid, underneath that stoic, calm façade. He wouldn’t say it, but she could feel it.

Barefoot, they stepped into the circle and stood across from one another with only a few inches between them. The blood had already dried on the floor, but the sensation was still odd beneath her toes.

Her father stood outside the circle, brandishing the knife. “Roll up your sleeves, Michael,” he said.

Michael did so, exposing the pale flesh of his forearms. Her father passed the knife to her, and her breath caught at the weight of it in her hands. Not that it was heavy, but having control of it made a cold sweat break out across her skin. It was a strange knife, the hilt black and inlaid with gold markings that must’ve held some significance.

“You saw what I did to make the pentagram, yes? Cut identical lines into Michael’s arms, and he’ll do the same to you.”

Michael held out his arms, his hands clenched into fists. She rested the edge of the blade on skin just below his elbow, but hesitated. Her eyes flickered up to his, so translucent in the low light of the candles.

“It’s okay,” Michael said softly. “I trust you.”

Blood bubbled up from the edge of the knife, a dark red line from elbow to wrist. He sucked in a breath, nostrils flaring at the pain. She repeated the motion on his other arm before she could think too much about it, then passed the knife over to him. Michael’s fingers had already run with scarlet, his grasp slick around the hilt of the knife. His blood was warm on her skin, the back of her wrist cradled gently in his palm while he traced up her arm. She wasn’t as quiet as he had been, letting out a whispered groan at the burning sting that now traveled up both arms.

“Now,” her father took the knife from Michael, “take each other’s hands.”

They wove their fingers together, so coated in red, dripping onto their toes, that she couldn’t tell what blood belonged to her or Michael. The air was tinged with it, the heat in the room making the scent of iron potent. Ribbons of scarlet run down their arms like rain on a window, and she found herself both mesmerized and a little light headed.

Her father paced around them outside the circle, chanting in a low voice. The flames of the candles danced in his wake, the temperature in the room climbing. She couldn’t have imagined it—she saw the sweat beading on Michael’s temple and felt her dress sticking to the small of her back. Her father continued to speak in a language she couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t Latin; she would’ve recognized Latin, since Ms. Mead had been adamant about the two of them being fluent in it. It sounded like something ancient. An archaic tongue that accompanied images of hellfire and the odor of brimstone.

She gripped Michael’s hands tighter, the coating of blood making her skin grimy and taut. Her knees wobbled a little, the heat in the room squeezing the air out of her lungs. It felt like she was traveling away from her body; if it wasn’t for Michael’s fingers wrapped around her own, she thought she might’ve sunk into the floor.

The influx of power made the candles flicker dangerously. She could feel it, the darkness. Swirling around them in long, endless tendrils, that familiar whisper in her ear. It dragged her under and took root in her soul—and something finally shattered inside her. Something long buried, with claws and sharp teeth and an appetite for destruction. The explosion of power made her drop to her knees, gasping, crying out, overcome with the burden. It was dark, ancient, indescribable…and it scared her, as much as the thrill of it ignited her veins.

Michael had collapsed to his knees in front of her, still holding securely to her hands—her fingers had gone numb and she was sure that his had, too. Blood continued to pool on the on the polished wood and splattered on their clothes. Michael’s cheeks were wet with tears, his head drooping toward the floor so all she saw was a mop of golden curls. The well had been opened, power flowing between both of them unrestrained, stirring up a phantom wind that threatened to extinguish the candles. She thought that maybe the two of them would lose consciousness from the sheer force of it.

When Michael found her again, his eyes were black—that bright blue edged out completely by the darkness. She wondered if her eyes looked the same. She could almost feel it.

Her father grinned, standing over them. “Ave Satanas.”

The candles went out.

@lastregasolitaria @mylippo @zeciex @lvngdvns @langdonsdemon @yourkingcodyfern @sojournmichael @gabnelson98 @rainbowrosesjas @antichristlangdxn @keavysmithxoxo @artistlunadrayne @codysfallenangels @batgirlbride @mileeyyowens @dead-witch-boy @boofy1998 @gentianea @cryptid-coalition @langdonsrapture @kinlovecody @yuriohoe04 @electricurie @marvel-rpdr-and-ahs @gallxntdean @langdonscurls @jcshadowkiss-blog @frozenhuntress67 @sebastianshoe @dixmond-taurus @bookobssesed99 @sassylangdon @queenie435 @holylangdon @weareallevilmotherfuckers @langdonfern @angsty-otters-blog @denaexr @mr-langdonn @micheallangdons @lostin-fern @crazedcatcuddler @satansapostle @monsucre @softlangdvn @ritualmichael

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x oc #michael langdon x fem!reader #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon imagine #ahs fic #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse #ahs apocalypse imagine #ahs apocalypse fanfiction #fic: from eden

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porkchop-ao3 · 6 years ago

Text

Charlie Foxtrot: Part 6/7

‘Reader�� from my OC series makes an appearence! Conflict.

A pattern emerged. Rick and Tailor saw each other regularly; sometimes Tailor would get an itch that needed scratching and he would seek him out, but most of the time Rick would be the one to initiate their time together. Either by turning up at Tailor's studio or house, or inviting him over to his place; that was happening a lot more, sneaking around at Rick's apartment while his roommate was home. Tailor had no idea how he hadn't been caught yet, he never really made an effort to keep the noise down, but Rick always had a CD ready to go when he came over. Tailor didn't really appreciate being treated like a dirty secret but at the same time, he didn't particularly care as long as he kept getting what he needed. Anyway, if they started telling people they were hooking up it would shift things into something more serious.

Which is why Tailor nearly threw up again when Rick snuggled up to him like a needy puppy after fucking one afternoon and whispered that he thought it was about time he told his roommate, at least, what was going on. He was closest to him of all his fellow SEAL team members, he felt confident he wouldn't react badly, he was pretty laid back and if they told him they wouldn't have to be so secretive. Rick wanted Tailor to feel comfortable here, not like he had to tiptoe around like they were doing something illegal. Well, it wasn't like Rick felt uncomfortable anyway, he couldn't care less if some faceless Rick down the hall found out by accident, he wasn't tiptoeing around anything.

“No. It's not about time for anything like that,” he said harshly, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed as his heart started thumping.

“What? O-okay. I just thought that if–”

“Don't bother! Don't think. It's fine the way it is.”

“Alright. I wo-won’t say anything.” Rick looked down at his feet, frowning slightly.

Tailor stared at him over his shoulder and sighed in frustration.

“Don't be like that. You're the one who was so scared of being seen with me you shoved me into a cupboard,” he grumbled.

“Don't say it like that, you make it sound way worse than it was. And that was ages ago, why're you still holdin’ onto that?” Rick's voice was still far softer than Tailor's was, but it was clear he wasn't happy.

“Because it's relevant! You can't just start out like that, then expect me to go along with it when you want to introduce me to all your bloody friends.”

“I don't wanna do that! I just wanna make our lives easier by tellin’ him. Just one guy, the guy I live with.”

“How will it make our lives easier? We'd still have to blare music out or try to keep quiet, unless you're happy with him listening in on us every time we have sex.”

Rick didn't respond to that. Tailor did have a point. He just sighed and dropped it, his face softening, he reached a hand out to Tailor's shoulder, who flinched when he was touched.

“I'm sorry,” Rick told him. Tailor stood up and moved out of his grip, putting his clothes back on.

“I need to finish the Council's commission, it's due Friday and I still haven't hemmed the trousers; I've got six pairs to do. I need to do the buttons as well. Then they'll need pressing,” Tailor muttered under his breath.

Rick watched him get dressed with a look of concern on his face. He got up.

“Is everything okay?”

“Stop touching me!” The hand meeting his shoulder for a second time set him off and Tailor yelled, slapping Rick's arm away.

Rick held his hands up and stepped away, looking confused and worried and so fucking stupid, Tailor wanted to hit him. He growled in annoyance and stormed out of the room.

He marched right past Rick's roommate who was in the kitchen, his eyes followed him – they were two different colours, one of them looked like a prosthetic – in blank confusion but Tailor didn't give him a second glance. He went straight for the front door. He hadn't intended on being seen, he wasn't even thinking straight, he'd just been feeling so trapped in that room with him and his stupid face and his stupid concern and it hadn't even occurred to him to portal out of there. Oh well. It wasn't his problem anymore.

He took a few moments to calm himself down once he was out of the building, taking refuge down the alleyway where all the bins were. He had his hands braced on the side of a large dumpster, taking deep breaths, his eyes closed and his head hanging down between his shoulders. He'd gotten so damn angry. Why was he so angry? Because of him! Who the hell did he think he was? Acting like he had control over what this was, what they were; not that they were anything at all. Trying to push Tailor into a corner he didn't want to be in, taking all that he had given him and twisting it, making him feel like this. So ill. So angry!

Tailor took in a sharp breath and opened his eyes, instantly realising where his hands were and jerking back, holding his arms out like they were filthy, though there was nothing on them. After a moment, he turned and walked from the alleyway onto the streets of the Citadel. He found himself in a bar – there were no shortage of those – and drank whiskey until his stomach felt settled. He never could stand being at the Citadel for too long; far too many versions of his own face staring back at him at once, and so he decided to go home. Though not before making a phone call.

“How soon do you think you can be at the studio?”

“Uhh, an hour, maybe?”

“Alright. Be there with cake, something sugary. Marzipan… Battenberg.”

Tailor didn't hang around to hear the protests that followed, he simply hung up and portaled his way home.

Tailor's assistant was nothing if not loyal and an hour from the phone call, Tailor turned up at his studio to find her sitting patiently with a supermarket own brand battenberg on a paper plate. It was hardly a sophisticated afternoon tea set up but it'd have to do, and Tailor was slightly drunk anyway so he couldn't care less as long as he could eat something delicious to soak up some of the whiskey in his belly.

“Well this is odd. It's not your birthday, that's in March, is there a reason I'm here with cake? I didn't bring any candles,” she said as Tailor strolled over, shedding his suit jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair he pulled out to sit at.

“I wanted cake,” he shrugged, dragging over the paper plate and using the blunt plastic knife provided to hack a generous slice off. “Would you care for some?”

“No, thank you,” she shook her head and watched as Tailor practically bit the slice in half with one mouthful. “So you just wanted me to bring you some cake. No other reason I'm here?”

“Oh for- if I'm that terrible to be around, you have permission to piss off,” Tailor snapped with his mouth full, and his assistant watched a crumb fly towards her before landing just shy of her on the table.

She paused for a few moments before responding to the outburst, her mind registering the fact that this wasn't just one of his bad moods.

“I didn't mean to imply anything like that. You know I enjoy working for you, Tailor. When you called me so suddenly I wondered if you perhaps needed my help on the Council's robes or something, the deadline is coming up.”

“Oh God,” he sighed, dropping the remainder of his cake onto his plate and burying his head in his hands.

“What's wrong?” she asked. “Are you behind? I am happy to help you, you taught me how to blind stitch and you said yourself I was good at doing the buttons. Would that be useful right now?”

“No, it's- actually yes. Buttons. I've marked out the placement, all you'll need is over in that drawer. That would give me one less thing to think about.”

He picked up the cake again and finished off the slice, grumbling on as his assistant retrieved a jacket and a handful of buttons. “I wasn't thinking about everything I needed to do and I got pissed at the Citadel. I can't work on those suits now, I'm useless,” he told her bluntly.

“You've been drinking?” she asked, as though she hadn't noticed when she definitely had.

“I've gotten myself into a complete mess, darling, I don't know what to do,” he sighed, passively watching over her as she got to work. He interrupted his woe to remind her, “Make sure the initials on the buttons are the right way up.”

“Of course. Would you like to talk about this mess?”

“I suppose that's what I had in mind when I called you. Though, I don't know what good it'll do.”

“Well, I'm all ears.”

Despite her saying so, Tailor remained quiet for a long while, but she didn't push. She kept her eyes focused on the button as she sewed it in place on the jacket.

“Personal question,” Tailor started, clearing his throat. “I suppose I'm obliged to say you don't have to answer this if you'd rather not. I'd just like to know… you and I.C. When you got together, did you sleep with him before or after developing feelings for him?”

His assistant paused, looking up from the button at Tailor as she thought about the question.

“After,” she said. “Though it was early on… I can't say I was as in love with him as I am now, when it happened. But there was something there, for sure.”

“Hmm,” Tailor mused, tapping his fingernails on the table.

“Why'd you ask?”

“Follow up question. Have you ever slept with someone when there were no feelings there?” he continued, his eyes narrowed slightly.

“Yes. Though, I was on the other side of it. Meaning, I had feelings, they didn't.”

“Oh?”

“It was a long time ago,” she shrugged, looking down at her work.

“And how did you deal with it?”

“Me? I put a stop to the whole thing when I realised it wasn't going any further than just sex. I didn't want to hang around to get hurt,” she admitted, taking a breath and exhaling sharply. “Not seeing them at all was better than being able to sleep with them but knowing it didn't mean anything.”

Tailor frowned down at the table, gnawing on his lip. He looked annoyed by something she'd said, and as soon as she noticed she questioned him.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I find myself in a situation where…” he paused, sucking in a breath. “I'm quite certain that someone I have been seeing has the wrong impression. Somewhere along the way they seem to have developed this idea of me that's false, and as a result they think what we have is going somewhere.”

“Wordy. To clarify, you've been sleeping with someone and now they have feelings for you?”

“I believe so.”

“And you don't return them,” she assumed, giving Tailor a funny feeling in his gut that he forced down and ignored.

“Correct. The issue is… I rather enjoy what we have as it is.”

“Well you know that's not going to work, right?”

“Why wouldn't it? It's been perfect up until now. I don't understand why things can't just stay how they are.”

“You're pulling my leg,” she looked at him gone out and Tailor stared back with a clueless look. “You really don't see why that can't happen?”

Tailor squirmed, averting his eyes.

“If this person has feelings for you, it's cruel to string them along, expecting them to give you what you want without having their own emotional needs taken into consideration.”

“I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind so long as he got to keep seeing me, you should see the way he looks at me.”

“Oh, wow,” she breathed, shaking her head.

“I didn't invite you here so you could sit there and judge me.”

“I'm not judging you. I'm just shocked that you're being so… uhh…” She searched for the right word and Tailor cocked a brow expectantly. “Cocky! And what did you expect? Did you think I'd just reassure you that it's perfectly fine and dandy to just ignore how he feels?”

Tailor didn't respond, and she felt like maybe she was getting through.

“Who is he? Someone in the fashion business, or?”

“He's a Rick.”

“A Rick?” she repeated, shocked. “That hairstylist from RickCon?”

“Oh, God no. He's… he's good. He knows what we are,” Tailor shook his head.

His assistant wasn't surprised to hear that they were still seeing each other. Sometimes the hairstylist would be at the studio when she arrived at work. For a while she thought they were getting serious, but it was evident now that that wasn't the case.

“So that buff guy you had that fitting with the other week?” she frowned to herself, deep in thought.

“I'm sorry?” Tailor's head jerked up, his face a picture of surprise.

“It is? I came over to the studio one evening, I was going to go in and speak to you because you hadn't really asked me for any help. I wondered if something was wrong. But this Rick was waiting outside, I asked him what he was doing and he said he had a suit fitting with you. I didn't think anything of it, I didn't want to get in the way so I just left,” she explained, and Tailor sighed in annoyance.

“So much for discreet,” he muttered.

“Well, it was pretty discreet, to be fair. He had me convinced,” she shrugged. “I haven't thought about that until now. But that's him then. What is he; in the army or something? He had dog tags, he also kept calling me ma'am, which was… nice,” she chuckled.

“Christ,” Tailor muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Lovely accent, too.”

“Do you want to take him off my hands, or . . .?” Tailor grouched, he sounded sarcastic but she couldn't be too sure.

“No. I'm perfectly happy with my Rick,” she grinned. “So is he?”

“What?”

“In the army.”

“Oh. He's in the SEAL team, at the Citadel,” Tailor explained with a sigh, looking down at the table and leaning his head on his hand.

“He didn't strike me as your type,” she commented, causing Tailor to scoff.

“Perhaps you don't know my type, then.”

“Hmm, he's cute, southern, big. But the piercings?” she asked incredulously.

“Mm, I'm not a fan. But the dinner plates in his ears don't bother me unless I look at them so I suppose it's not a huge deal,” Tailor told her nonchalantly, and she giggled.

“I thought you'd say something like that,” she smirked.

“Very nice body art, though. It's inspired a new line of shirts and jackets…”

“Tailor. He seems nice,” she said, and her tone made it sound like a scolding.

“And?”

“If you don't want him the way he wants you, do him a favour and try not to hurt him,” she warned, giving him a stern, meaningful look. He stared at her for a while before dropping his eyes again.

Tailor sighed.

“I never asked for all of this. I'd argue that I'm the victim here,” he muttered, almost under his breath.

She tutted and rolled her eyes. “Nobody is a victim, yet. Just be honest with him and see what happens. You can't string him along.”

“I've never given any indication that I wanted him for anything other than a bit of fun,” Tailor told her, but his voice wavered when he thought back over his actions. He most definitely had. But it hadn't been on purpose, so that should count for something.

“I'm not going to keep arguing, this is your thing. I can only give my best advice,” she shrugged her shoulders and turned her focus back to sewing on the jacket buttons.

Tailor didn't say anything after that, and the two sat in silence for a long time as she worked.

TBC...

#rick sanchez #rick and morty #fanfiction #rickcest #seal team rick #tailor rick #oc rick #hairstylist rick #council of ricks

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sher-soc-the-famder · 6 years ago

Text

The Show Must Go On- Chapter 12

Word Count: 3240

Pairings: Gen, Platonic LAMP, Platonic Roman&OC, Platonic Virgil&OC

Warnings: Nightmare, Implied Abuse, Violence

Masterpost

Read on AO3 <– Previous Chapter (You’ve Reached the End!)

It hurt. Everything hurt and he just wanted it to stop.

They helped. He knew they did. Not in the way he wished for,—desperate and afraid—but it helped anyways. As he curled up and pressed the replay button. Over and over and over and over—

Until the screen blurred and the figures on it lost their shape. Until they crawled out of the digital world and he could grip their hand tight through the horror and the pain. The figures wrapped themselves around him, and he tipped his head back to bask in the feeling.

The arms around him grew tighter and tighter until it threatened to choke him and he gasped.

“Your fault,” they whispered, “this is your fault. They were happy. They were happy until you.”

His mouth opened and closed, apology on his lips. He wanted desperately to go back, to undo what he had done, but not enough. Not enough for it to actually happen, and the shadows dove down his throat.

He tried to scream, tried to thrash to apologize, to escape the guilt and the new pain but he couldn’t breathe—

Roman gasped, surging forwards, and struggling against the hand that pressed to his mouth.

“Shooooosh,” Victoria murmured, “Shooosh Ro, they’re nearby.”

His flailing slowed, and he took a shuddering breath, looking around. Virgil had moved to be pressed up against Victoria’s other side, gripping Richard to his chest tightly as the kid slept. Victoria ran a hand through his hair, eyes locked on the door as a shadows passed under the crack.

“They’ve been there for too long,” Virgil said, voice low as he stared as well. “They know we’re here, we’re going to get caught, there’s nowhere to run—”

“Shoooosh,” Victoria said, and Roman jolted at the realization that it was too close to the tone she used with him. “We don’t know that yet–” She paused– “but we can be ready for if they do. How well are you at using your hands?”

Virgil blinked at her, and Victoria’s grin might have been a shade insane as she held up the gloved hand not in Roman’s hair. She tugged it down on her wrist and Virgil gaped at the claws that grew from them.

“I’ve got two gloves after all,” she said with a wink, and Roman whined.

“What? But why didn’t I get this offer?”

“Maybe because you already have your cool magical item, Harry Potter,” Victoria said. “Or maybe because I’ve replaced you with Virgil. He’s my bestie now; sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Virgil smothered a snicker, and Roman exaggerated his pout. The shadow passed over their doorway once more, and Roman felt Victoria’s hand tighten in his hair. He held his breath, watching as the person moved on once more.

“How long has it been?” he asked. “Long enough we can make our move?”

“Not until they–” Virgil nodded towards the door–“back off.”

“We could try and take them out,” Roman suggested, impatience pressing at his chest. The dream he had licked at the edges of his consciousness, and the fact that he couldn’t identify who it was made his skin itch. Was it Logan or Patton? Which one was drowning in that guilt?

“Roman, no,” Virgil said.

“Roman, yes,” Victoria joked, and Roman grinned up at her. He reached out and squeezed her hand. She snickered, squeezing back before helping him to sit up. “Maybe not quite in that sense, but, and not to brag, I am a Jedi now.”

Roman flailed, “Yes!”

Virgil frowned.

“What about what happened last time?” he asked. Richard shifted against his chest and Virgil glanced down at him. “You were exhausted and, unlike Roman, you haven’t slept.”

A frown crossed her face, and Roman felt the first pangs of disappoint stir in his chest. Almost immediately Victoria’s face smoothed, and she shrugged. “Worth it to escape, don’t you think?” she said. Virgil’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t say anything else as she nudged them away to stand up. She wobbled slightly, and Roman bit his lip, suddenly doubting his idea.

“Be ready,” she said, and Roman heaved himself to his feet. He gripped the edges of his cape, unsure if he’d throw it at the mage if this went wrong, or throw it over the rest of them.

Victoria laid a hand on the door handle, hesitating a split second. Her grip tightened and Roman held his breath as it turned slowly. Virgil tensed, and as the shadow began its path once more, Victoria jerked.

The door swung, slamming against the wall. Roman did a double take at the face that greeted them. Rose grimaced, hands out in the same manner that Victoria’s were. Her eyes locked onto the gloves and her lips pressed into a thin line.

“So we were too late,” Rose whispered.

Victoria hesitated, her hand dropping in surprise at Rose’s words.

“Vic!” Virgil snapped, and her hand straightened once more.

“It doesn’t matter,” Vic said, almost to herself waving her gloved hand, “because you’re going to leave us alone and forget you saw us.”

The mage’s eyes glazed over as she turned and strode off further into the warehouse. Victoria let out a shaky breath as she turned back to them and grinned.

“See?” she said. “No problem.”

“I hate you,” Virgil muttered, gather Richard up in his arms and staggering to his feet.

“Pffft,” Victoria waved him off as Roman bound over to her with matching grin. “You can’t hate me anymore that you can hate Roman.”

“Awww,” Roman cooed, “Did Dark Tales tell you stories while I slept?”

The thought of them both talking about him made his chest tighten. This is what he wanted, his family all in one spot (and praising his awesome self). The feeling faded somewhat as they shared a matching smirk. Victoria bounced on her heels as she waved at them to follow her as she said.

“Oh wouldn’t you like to know, Princey.”

He sputtered at the nickname that he was used to hearing from Virgil and Vic cackled. She stumbled slightly, and Roman reached out to steady her, only to realize that his hand was shaking almost as much as hers was.

“Get a move on,” Virgil said, striding past them, grabbing Richard by his hands. “They’re not going to stay away for long.”

Richard blinked slowly from Virgil’s arms, looking more exhausted than he had before he had slept.

“Sure thing, Worry Wart,” Victoria agreed easily. Roman grinned at the expression that crossed Virgil’s face, biting back a cackle that matched Victoria’s. Some part of him felt like they had stumbled back into high school all over again; with the stupid rule-breaking, injuries, and inappropriate laughing included.

They inched their way through the warehouse, and Roman held his breath every time they had to tuck themselves under the cape. Most mages were hurrying through the place alone; something that struck Roman as odd, though he couldn’t place why.

He flinched at the sunlight as they emerged, and blinked as Victoria make a broken noise.

“God, it looks worse in the light,” she said, reaching out to gently pull his face towards her. “You still standing, at least?”

Roman rolled his eyes extracting himself from her hold, and pretending that he couldn’t see Virgil staring at him in horror. It wasn’t the worse that he’d ever endured, and as long as nothing was broken, they weren’t exactly in the position to stand around comparing injuries.

“Always,” he said and Victoria nodded.

Roman ignored the alarmed look that Virgil sent their way and Victoria pointed in the direction she had parked Jasmine. Roman took a couple of steps before realizing that she had set Virgil in the right direction before slowing to talk to him quietly.

Her eyes raked over his form, taking in the bruising and the blood, and Roman gave her half a shoulder shrug in response. Her smile was tired and pained, but she held out a fist. Roman felt the last of his tension bleed away at the familiar gesture. The one that meant the struggle was over and he was safe.

“Long-sleeve buddies?” she whispered.

Roman met her fist with his and murmured, “Long-sleeve buddies.”

She laughed, startling Virgil in front of them. He turned to narrow his eyes at him, and Roman smirked as Victoria waggled her fingers at the other side. It hadn’t gone according to his Epic Rescue Plan, but at least...

At least they had all gotten out safe, and with only him harmed. Roman thought he could count that as a win.

Jasmine was a welcome sight and Roman couldn’t help but flop over his car’s hood.

“My baby! Papa missed you too! Were you good for your godmother, I bet you were,” he cooed at the car. He ran a hand over the scratched metal, feeling his smile turn less manic and more soft. Godmother, he loved his car.

“Oh my god,” Virgil said as he helped Richard into the back, “It’s a car Roman.” He paused. “Though I supposed that treating it like that may help your survival in the inevitable robot uprising.”

Roman turned to stare at Virgil as Victoria cackle.

“Robot uprising!” she crowed. “I’m down for that. May my phone get revenge for all the times I’ve dropped it.”

“Mood,” Virgil replied and Roman smothered a shriek as that set off another round of cackles from Victoria. He wasn’t sure if he was thrilled they were getting along, or jealous. Or even worried. He shook his head and held out his hand.

“I’m dri—”

“Nope,” Victoria chirped, bouncing around to the driver’s side. “You’re even more insane than I thought you were if you think I’m letting you drive when you can barely walk on your leg.”

Roman shot Victoria a betrayed look as she hummed. He faced Virgil, as if asking for help, but was met with Virgil’s narrow stare.

“Roman!” Virgil hissed, whirling to give him a better look over instead. “Goddammit, get in the back; you guys better have a first aid kit–”

“In the glove compartment!” Victoria added helpfully as Virgil manhandled Roman in next to Richard. The actor pouted, looking down at the kid who was quietly watching them all.

“At least you still love me,” Roman told him and Richard reached out to pat his uninjured leg. A smirk twitched up his lips and Roman gaped at him, feeling betrayed once more before he even opened his mouth.

“Weird,” Richard said like he was imparting the secrets of the universe. “Like Virgil more.”

“Damn straight,” Virgil said smugly. Richard smothered giggles with his hands as Roman flailed.

“I hate you all!” he shrieked.

“No you don’t,” Virgil and Vic chimed together and Richards giggles grew breathless.

Roman pouted, crossing his arms and sinking down into his seat. Virgil settled in on Roman’s other side as Victoria started up Jasmine and they peeled away from the horrid place. Roman hoped they never saw it again. Like a video game dungeon, they had defeated it and they never had to go back.

Virgil suddenly tugged at his leg, snapping Roman out of his thoughts. He watched as the anxious side winced at the mess of blood that had soaked through Roman’s first bangaging, and scowled. He very pointedly didn’t say anything and Roman sunk a little lower in his seat. It had been a stupid plan, like all of his plans and—

“Hey Ro,” Virgil said quietly as he set about removing the gauze and cleaning his leg up. Roman blinked and met his eyes. Virgil gave him a small swift smile before ducking his head. “It was stupid, but– Thanks.”

Roman blinked, taken aback before his face grew warm. He grinned through his slight flush and declared.

“Well of course! The prince has got to slay, both metaphorically and literally. I should be thanking you for the opportunity for adventure. I really had been missing the chance to show off my skills—”

“Shut up and take the compliment,” Virgil interrupted.

Roman snapped his mouth shut and grinned sheepishly. He reached out and placed his hand on Virgil’s arm gently.

“I was always going to come for you Virge.” He smiled wider, and continued at the fragile look Virgil gave him. “I mean who else would I be able to show off to without you around. Things are always so much more entertaining when there are screams in the background—”

“I feel like chopped liver,” Victoria called from the front, and Virgil flipped them both off. She cackled, but the noise cut off abruptly. Roman frowned.

“Vic?” Roman asked, leaning forward to see what had caught her attention. Virgil's prodding hands on his arm stilled.

“Well,” she said softly, “I found where all the mages went after they stopped looking for us.”

Roman felt his heart drop, scrambling to the passenger seat for the best view. The small house they had been staying at was surrounded. Several black vans sat in the street and Virgil silently pointed out figured perched along the rooftops as well. Tense silence fell across them all.

“Roman?” Victoria asked quietly.

He bit his lips, eyes narrowing. Think! There had to be away around this! They couldn't just leave the couple that had been kind to them for all that Roman knew that Logan would point out that it was the logical option. They had given too much for Roman to be comfortable ditching them to whatever horrid fate the mages would cause them.

He bit down harder on his lip, muttering to himself.

“We can't take them all on ourselves. If there were less maybe. Is there a way we could contact them? Let them know that– no there isn't anything they could do...”

Roman rugged at his hair, distinctly aware of the eyes on him. He had to come up with something.

“We could lead some of them off, but if the bait gets caught then we’re right back to where we started and we can't break back in again—”

“Roman,” Vic said softly, “breathe.”

The actor sucked in a deep breath, cutting off his ramblings.

“No one is playing bait,” Virgil added and Victoria nodded.

“You'll come up with something,” Vic said.

“Just don't take too–” Virgil snapped back from leaning between the front seats as a click of the car doors sounded.

“Richard, what the—”

The child clambered out of the car, ducking away from Virgil's hand.

“Bait,” he murmured, and Roman felt his hands tighten in his hair.

“No!” He protested. “We agreed earlier you’re too young to be bait!”

Richard shook his head, as the rest of them hurried after him, struggling to get out of the car. “Not young.”

“Richard buddy,” Victoria approached him slowly, ever step she took forward matched by a step back. “I hate to break it to ya, but thirteen is young.”

Roman grimaced at the bitter smile that earned her as Richard shook his head.

“Richard please,” Virgil begged, coming at the kid from the side. Roman winced at the look that the plea drew from the kid, but it did nothing from his inching up along the other side. “Don’t do this. You don’t need to do this.”

“I’m sorry,” Richard whispered, and Virgil lunged forward hand brushing against his back as the kid bolted for the house.

“No!” Virgil screamed, and Roman moved before he could think about it. Richard had a head-start, but Roman had longer legs. He ate up the distance between them in a few quick strides, reaching out to grab Richard before they could draw too much more attention.

A flash in the corner of his vision had him ducking and rolling on instinct, dragging his cape up above his head. Heat engulfed him, and Roman felt flames lick at his fingers as Virgil and Victoria screamed.

He sprung to his feet, and ran his hand over the undamaged silk. A giddy grin split his face because well, magic! Roman looked up from the cape to meet the eyes of the stunned mage, who still stood with her hand thrown out from the spell.

“Richard!” Virgil shouted, and Roman whirled. Richard had taken the distraction to leap over the picket fence, but several of the mages were closing in on him. Roman felt his heart sink, knowing that there was no way he could make it to the child in time. Virgil’s voice seemed to echo in time with Richard ducking and covering his head as a mage reached their hand out.

“No!”

The earth rumbled, and Roman pitched forward, hissing as he landed hard on his hands and knees. Shouts and yelps sounded, and Roman’s head snapped up in surprise. He rolled to the side as a mage was thrown past him, and he gapped as Victoria took his arm to help haul him back up to his feet.

Virgil sprinted past him, and pressed his hands to the invisible barrier that had thrown the mages out.

“What happened?” Roman shouted.

“Oh, I certainly know,” Virgil snarled, eyes blown wide, “because I love panicking for no reason.”

“Guys,” Victoria murmured, eyes turned towards not the small figure that was making his way towards them, but the mages that were picking themselves up off the ground. “Whatever we’re going to do, we gotta do it now.”

“Get him out of there!” Roman winced at the panic that laced Virgil’s tone with hysteria; the way that the other side’s hands turned white against what kept him away from Richard. “Tear it down! Do something– !”

Victoria cursed, stepping around Virgil and lashing out with clawed fingers at the mage that reached for the hyperventilating Virgil. She threw a panicked glance in Roman’s direction and he swallowed hard. He wanted to be the prince, the hero, but at the same time—

(He was selfish.)

Roman wound his arm around Virgil’s waist, and grit his teeth against the scream that tore from Virgil’s throat as he was hauled back. Nails scraped against arms, and Roman jerked his head towards Jasmine at Victoria’s look. She hesitated, an emotion Roman couldn’t name flashing through her eyes, before she hurried after the two of them.

Virgil thrashed in his grasp, voice cracking as he grew more frantic.

“Let me go you, you bastard!” Roman dragged him back another step, trying to ignore the way that Richard pressed a hand where Virgil’s had been moments before. “What if it doesn’t hold? What if it holds too well? LET ME GO! RICHARD! RICHARD!”

Victoria threw open the door to the car, and Roman almost tripped trying to step into it backwards. His arms ached, and he felt like he had swallowed a rock, but he refused to lose Virgil after he had just found him.

Victoria ducked unto another blast of fire and dove for the front seat, Jasmine’s engine roaring to life. Virgil jerked back, and Roman’s breath left in a rush as Virgil’s elbow buried itself in his gut.

“Turn around!” Virgil glared at Victoria, and Roman could feel his whole body trembling. “Go back, or I’ll– I’ll—”

Roman tugged him closer and buried his head in the other side’s neck, pretending it was just for Virgil’s comfort. He could feel Virgil’s breath hitched.

“I hate you.”

Roman sucked in a sharp breath.

“I know,” he replied, “I hate me too.”

#Sanders sides #TSMGO #Urban Fantasy AU #Roman Sanders #VIrgil Sanders #OC: Victoria #OC: Richard #Explosions #Violence #TS-Storytime 2018 Submission #Implied abuse

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imyourliquor-youremypoison · 7 years ago

Text

Hjem(løs) - Ivar x OC - Modern AU - Part 3

Hjem(løs) = Home(less)

Synopsis: It’s Juleaften and Silje walks home from a late Christmas shopping spree. On her way back to her apartment, she makes an unexpected encounter.

No warnings, this is me serving you comfort and love <3 Y'all are sex-driven maniacs in the Heathen Army, ily but you need some fluff and holy water.

Word count: 6.1k

MASTERLIST

Part 2 <<< >>> Part 4

The least she could say was that Ivar did things properly. He wasn't even out of the knee brace yet when he was out there searching for a job – any job. He looked for a week before landing a small rookie job at a local bar, helping with the unloading and the loading of the trucks of the bands that came to play every night. Silje admonished Ivar from dawn to dusk when he told her the news because it was such a physical job and he only recovered from his beating.

“It's irresponsible!” She pointed out, her fingers poking his chest.

It wasn't that easy to argue with him now that he stood tall, towering over her. She wasn't even that short.

“I'm not cut out for desk work or anything like that, I need action,” Ivar argued.

“I'm a man of action, I need to do a manly job to show off my man strength,” Silje said, mimicking his voice to show him how ridiculous he sounded. “If your knee cap pops again, I'm going to knock your head against that wall-” she threatened, pointing at the wall. “And then I'll call Ubbe and he'll smash it right through.”

“You're threatening to injure me because you're worried I might get injured at my new job?” Ivar asked with a scoff.

“It's how I express affection!” Silje burst out, pushing Ivar back with both hands.

The guy barely seemed to notice despite Silje using all of her strength, which infuriated her a little more. Although she had to admit he looked strong. He put on a bit of weight since she took him in and it suited him well. Not to mention that Ivar had been pestering non-stop about going for a run.

“Really?”

There was a drastic change in his tone and she wasn't sure she liked where this was going. A smug smirk made a guest appearance on his face and he crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes were trained on her as if he tried to see through her and that damn grin showed no sign of fading.

“Of course you dickhead! I've been taking care of you for weeks, I don't want to do it again!” She scoffed, trying to pass this off as sheer annoyance but obviously failing. “Don't look at me like that!”

“How am I looking at you?” He asked.

He knew the answer but he wanted to hear her say it. She was aware of that, but she was cornered. In fact, he looked at her with even more intensity after asking her that. Silje couldn't take it anymore and turned around with a defeated huff.

“All right, go ahead mess up your knee again, I don't care,” she exclaimed and busied herself with some meaningless house chore only to avoid looking at him.

“Silje, please-” Ivar called her. She felt him following her around the apartment but she kept on running away. “-Sil... come on, stop- come here.” He finally managed to catch her after jumping over the couch.

“See! That's what I'm talking about!” She burst out. “You act like a fucking child!”

“I've been laying on your couch for weeks, can you blame me if I want to stretch my legs now that I can?” That wasn't the right thing to say, he understood it by the way Silje shot lightnings at him. “That's not the point though- listen Silje. I get that you're worried, I know you can't help it, you worry about everything.”

“That's not true!”

“Please,” Ivar began, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows. “I've seen you get worried for a cat who bumped into a French window. Stop making me digress now.”

“I'm not making you do anything,” she protested, stepping back only to hit the wall. He was so close to her, she couldn't think straight enough to have this conversation with him. Her brain was screaming to abort mission.

“What I'm trying to say is that it's only a part time job a few nights a weeks. I'll be careful, and I promise I'll find another job if it's too much.”

Silence followed his statement. Silje refused to admit that it soothed her nerves in the slightest. She stayed quiet and glared at him – probably not hard enough since Ivar cracked a little smile and gently pushed her hair behind her ear. The voice inside her head told her that this wasn't something friends did but she shut it up.

“Peace?” He asked, his voice full of hope.

“Fuck!” Silje swore under her breath and whispered to herself, “You're so damn attractive.”

“Did I catch that right?” Ivar wondered out loud, a laugh escaping him.

“You win every argument because of this!” She accused him, taking a step forward in a hopeless attempt to intimidate him, except Ivar did not step back as she expected.

Now they were even closer to each other and Silje even more unable to form a coherent thought. It was a wonder they managed to make it through the first few weeks of cohabitation when she had to help him in the tub.

Ivar couldn't fight off his huge grin on his lips and Silje was torn between slapping it right off his flawless face or kissing him. Before she could walk farther down this road, Ivar interrupted her train of thought by throwing his arm behind her shoulders and pulling her to his side and he led her to the couch.

“And here I thought it was my compelling arguments who made a difference. Is that also the reason why I always win at our board games?” He teased her. Silje groaned and threw her head back against Ivar's arm.

Silje opened her mouth, ready to blurt out some nonsense and maybe even challenge him and tell him something stupid like 'I let you win this whole time' that she would regret saying later because she did not, in fact, let him win, but by some kind of miracle the door bell rang at this precise moment. Her shoulders relaxed and she had to hide her sigh of relief when she walked past Ivar – who very purposefully stayed where he was, right in the middle of the way with his arms crossed over his chest – taking pleasure in bumping her shoulder against his to show that she was still mad and this conversation wasn't over.

Silje would bet her life Ivar was smirking to himself. It made her hand itch to slap that cocky smile off, or maybe kiss it away. The person behind the door was a mystery but she was willing to hug them whoever they were. Ivar shrunk on himself when she reached the door, trying to make himself smaller than it was – an impossible task honestly. Ivar's Viking lineage was painfully obvious, he was broad and tall, not to mention a little boorish and ill-mannered when he was in a foul mood.

Speaking of tall Viking...

“Hvitserk!” Silje exclaimed incredulously when she opened the door. “Oh gods, it's you!”

They both laughed and hugged on the doorstep; the two siblings were happy to see each other to say the least.

“Hey little one,” he greeted her with a warm embrace and a kiss on top of her head. “Missed your stupid face.”

That was big brother language right there. It made Ivar snort slightly, causing Hvitserk to look up and see the stranger in his baby sister's apartment.

“Hey man,” Ivar took the lead and greeted the newcomer with a little hand gesture. Hvitserk let go of Silje and went to shake hands and give him a quick pat on the back – a much friendlier welcome than Ubbe's.

“I assume you're Ivar?” He asked and received a nod. “Yeah, I've... heard about you,” he said after a short hesitation, glancing at Silje.

“You have?” Ivar's eyebrow met his hairline while he shook hands with Silje's brother and made eye contact with her. “I can't imagine all the good stuff Silje must have told you about me.”

“What good stuff?” Silje sassed and joined the boys – she had to step between the two of them, this handshake had lasted way too long already. She turned her attention to her favourite brother.

“She tells me in our weekly calls that there's an infuriating parasite named Ivar living on her couch, and that he always beats her at board ga-” Hvitserk was interrupted in his sentence when Silje elbowed him in the stomach, making him bend in two.

“I did not say that!” She assured Ivar who didn't know what to say at this point. “Anyway, when did you come back?” She changed the subject and turned back to her brother, ignoring the daggers he glared at her. When his ego recovered from the blow his gaze softened.

“This morning. I crashed at Ubbe's after my night flight and I came here as soon as I woke up I wanted to surprise you,” Hvitserk told her and draped his arm over her shoulder, side hugging her. “Now will you offer your hungry brother something to eat or are we just going to stand there all night?”

It prompted a series of reactions ranging from protest to agreement but all in all they managed to find a solution even if Silje wasn't in the mood to play housewife with these two and Hvitserk insisted on having a celebration feast for his return to Copenhagen – they ordered pizza and Hvitserk was paying because he showed up unannounced, while Silje provided the beers. Ivar didn't utter a word during the siblings' negotiations but Silje knew that it made him uneasy. As soon as the order was placed she made sure to change the subject.

“So Ivar, now you have met the nicest of my brothers, I have to warn you that it can only go downhill from there,” she joked. “Is Sigurd back too?” She asked Hvitserk.

“He's coming back next week,” he told her. “And how am I the nicest? Have you met me?”

“Well you didn't try to crush my hand while shaking it, so there's that,” Ivar told him. “Though Ubbe sort of saved my ass so I feel like he's taking the lead in this race.”

“I'm buying pizza!” Hvitserk pointed out, his finger pointing at Ivar as he said it. “It counts for something, I'm reaching out here man.”

“Appreciated, though I gotta admit it's suspicious, in my personal experience no one hands out pizza for free.” Ivar's sentence made Hvitserk lean back against the couch and look at Silje.

“Suspicious? Sil do you believe this? Are you going to let him talk to your beloved brother like this?”

“You're totally weird, I'd be suspicious of you too if you weren't my brother.” Silje paused before sitting down and placing the beers on the coffee table. “Wait, I take that back. Actually I am suspicious of you especially because you're my brother.”

She held up her beer to cheer with the boys. Ivar was the first one to react, his infamous boyish grin that drove Silje crazy plastered on his face, and grabbed his beer, popping it open against the edge of the coffee table. The first time he saw Silje do this he was stunned. Girls usually were the first ones to shriek in indignation when someone tried to pull this off on their furniture. But she told him that teeth marks on the edge of a wooden table were the sign of good times.

Hvitserk's look of offence faded and finally grabbed his beer.

“Skål!” They all said at the same time and drank together.

Out of habit, Ivar put her arm across the back on the couch behind Silje – that was just what happened when you live with someone, you start to get cosy. Hvitserk began to tell tales and funny stories about his time in the military, recounting the late evenings and dirty jokes between him and his fellow soldiers.

“You look like the army type too, why don't you join?” He asked Ivar out of the blue. “It would be a good solution to your problem.”

“My problem?” Ivar scoffed. “Yeah, whatever man. I guess Ubbe warned you before you came here?”

“Actually no,” Silje cut in. “I told him, right after Jul. I have no secrets for Hvitserk.”

She could tell that Ivar wanted to protest but the surprised caused by her little confession bought them enough time to speak up again.

“I don't care anyway,” Hvitserk assured him, shrugging and taking another sip of his beer. “Like, who's to judge? I've been homeless too once.”

Ivar's eyebrows disappeared under his hairline and though he didn't say anything, he leaned back and waited for them to elaborate on that – but not before shooting a glare at Silje, gently signifying her that a heads up would have been nice.

“First weeks of university – before I dropped out to join ranks – there was some issue with the place where I was supposed to live, water damage of whatever,” he explained, fumbling with his beer. “I was already nervous about how to announce to my family that I wanted to drop out so I didn't want to give them another reason to worry and didn't tell them anything. So-” he stretched the syllable and glanced at Silje. “- I slept on the streets. It was only late August, it wasn't too cold and it wasn't too bad an experience all together, now that I look back on it.”

“None of your siblings helped?” Ivar finally spoke.

“I was sixteen and living with our parents,” Silje pointed out. “Not much I could do without raising suspicions.”

“The others don't know, and I'd appreciate it if you could keep it to yourself,” Hvitserk confided, looking at his hands. “Silje is the only one I told, I was too embarrassed to ask the others for help. Besides we all had other things going on. Ubbe was still in military school, Sigurd was having his punk phase, Bjorn has a family.”

“The important this is that everything worked out in the end! His landlord called him as soon as the damage was repaired and he moved in after four weeks of homelessness, and no one ever learned the truth!” Silje said cheerfully, obviously trying to pass a message to Ivar and his brooding self.

“I'm serious about the army thing though!” Hvitserk insisted, not taking the hint when Ivar rolled his eyes.

“Hvitserk, just drop it, it's none of yo-”

“-none of my business, I know but think about it.” There was a relatively long silence after that and Ivar set his half drunk beer on the table before leaning back against the couch again, not uttering a word. “Hey, it- it's not a bad idea!” Hvitserk tried ease the tension in the air but failed and turned to his sister for help.

“Dumbass!” Silje scolded her brother and smacked him upside the head.

“I was trying to help!” He protested and rubbed his head.

“Don't listen to him, Ivar. He's an idiot. A well-intentioned idiot, you have to forgive him, his mouth runs far ahead of his brain most of the time.” She was swift to elbow Hvitserk in the ribs when she saw him open his mouth, no doubt to complain about what she just said – even if it was true. The silence in the room grew thicker until Ivar decided to break it.

“I thought about it, okay? I wanted to join the army,” he admitted just when Silje was about to lose her composure. Only this time she almost regretted the silence when he broke it, and she sat a little straighter than necessary, suddenly feeling all tense and uneasy.

Ivar kind of hated it when it was tense between Silje and him; they got along on most subjects and had light, entertaining conversations, but sometimes they bumped into a touchy subject. Her heart dropped a little – hearing that he was thinking about leaving without even telling her didn't sit well on her stomach.

“Don't give me that look. I'm not going anywhere. I got rejected.”

It was Hvisterk's turn to stop Silje from asking more questions and he changed the subject. He complained about the pizza guy taking his time and turned on the TV to see, quote, 'what was happening in the world'. He had never had trouble making himself home wherever he went.

“Silje told me you spend a lot of time working out, maybe we could hang out and exercise one of these days. I mean- I don't have a gym membership-” Ivar asked out of the blue, not particularly comfortable with the subject of money.

“Relax, Ivar-” it was strange hearing his name coming out of Hvitserk's mouth. “I don't have a membership either, I run around the park, I do push up and pull ups in my apartment. No money for this shit, and what does a soldier do with a gym membership when he's gone for most of the year?”

Ivar smiled at that and the boys drank.

“Hey, speaking of- how's Inge doing? Why didn't you sleep home?” Silje asked, nudging her brother. She was so relieved that they weren't threading on thin ice anymore – she could only handle so much sensitive talk. Ivar listened with great attention, frowning each time he heard something that intrigued him.

“Inge is doing great,” he smiled as he told her, happy at the mere mention of her name. “She and the kids are at her parents' house this week, I wanna surprise them when they come home.”

“The kids?” Ivar asked, not getting what this was all about. This guy was barely a year older than he was, surely he could not-

“Hvitty here has two kids,” Silje confirmed his suspicions and it made him lean back and stare in shock. “You can be surprised yeah, he started pretty young.”

“I'm literally sitting right next to you,” Hvitserk reminded them. “What can I say? I'm irresistible.”

“More like insufferable! He couldn't keep it in his pants, is what happened,” Silje laughed, poking Hvitserk's cheek and making him roll his eyes.

“Okay, enough about me,” Hvitserk decided, glaring at his sister and hoping against hope that she would get the message and stop embarrassing him. “Question!” He exclaimed and turned to Ivar. “Why do you have the exact same haircut as I usually have? Does she have anything to do with this?”

He dismissively nodded towards Silje as he spoke to Ivar who proceeded to tell him in extreme and exaggerated details how Silje forced him to sit still and threatened him of bodily harm while she cut his hair against his will. Hvitserk kept nodding in sympathy and ended up giving Ivar a compassionate pat on the back when he finished his twisted retelling of event. Then he pursed his lips and shook his head at his sister, giving her a look that she interpreted as 'you monster', faithful to his dramatic nature.

“You two can't team up against me, I won't be disrespected in my own home!” Silje was quick to argue, pointing a warning finger at them both.

“Or what?” Hvitserk provokingly asked her, sticking out his torso.

“She'll make me sleep on the couch,” Ivar snickered in his bottle of beer with a smug little grin. His answer caused Hvitserk to choke on thin air and burst in laughter while Silje gave them the stink eye.

“That's my man,” Hvitserk congratulated him, raising his hand for a fist bump.

The clock struck midnight by the time Hvitserk called it a day and decided to go home.

“I would offer you to stay here tonight but the couch is already taken,” Silje said with a pout and an innocent shrug. Ivar who was leaning against the wall behind her smirked as Hvitserk rolled his eyes.

“I'm not conservative Sil, I would let you sleep in the same bed as your boyfriend, you know,” he teased her, earning a punch that hurt more than he expected.

After that last joke – because Hvitserk Ragnarsson could not simply walk away without cracking one last dumb joke – he finally left with the promise to come by again and meet up with Ivar to work out and have some man talk. What even was that? Silje wondered. Boys talking about their preferred choice of condom brand? Endless conversations about monster trucks and beer?

“He always knows exactly when to leave to avoid cleaning up,” Silje said to herself as soon as she closed the door behind her brother.

When she turned around most of the mess had already been taken care of by Ivar though, and she realized in this moment that this is what he did. Constantly overdoing everything in an attempt to pay her back for everything she does. She didn't even know what exactly she did for him, but it must be huge. More than simply giving him a place to sleep. She tried to tell him to leave it be until morning but he didn't want to sleep next to this mess, and Silje had to admit she wouldn't either. Instead, he told her to go to sleep if she was tired, but she shook her head.

After a few more attempts, Ivar convinced her to go to her room while he took care of everything – which Silje would never accept in normal circumstances, but she really was physically exhausted, as much as her mind was awake, her body was giving up on her and she needed to lie down. It wasn't long until she heard a soft knock on her door.

“Come in,” Silje said, her eyes fixed on her laptop screen. When she looked up she saw that he changed into the sweatpants he slept in and was holding two steaming cups of what she guessed was tea. He held one up for her and she took it with gratitude. “Sweet!”

She was lying on her stomach across her bed and Ivar plopped down next to her, grabbing her laptop from her so she would stop browsing through her social media and pay attention to him.

“Twitter, facebook, Instagram, my, my, who are you stalking?” He asked her.

“No one that matters,” she sighed, holding her cup with both hands to warm up. “Hope tonight wasn't too much for you, if I knew Hvitserk was back I would have planned to meet up with him somewhere else.” Silje winced at the thought of all her overbearing brothers showing up one by one at her apartment without so much as a little heads up.

“Nah, it felt good to speak to someone else,” Ivar said with a shrug, earning a slap on the shoulder.

“Say it if I'm boring!” Silje exclaimed in fake outrage.

“You're not boring, you're a girl,” Ivar told her, not realizing he was digging his own grave until she glare at him. “Not the best answer,” he decided. “I mean- you see... fuck it Silje, you know what I mean!”

“Yeah but it's so much fun to watch you wriggle like that,” she said with a grin her face. “Did you want anything other than bring me tea and spy on my internet activity?”

“Yeah- no- I just wanted to make sure that we're good. I know I became all snappy and stiff when your brother mentioned.... you know, my problem and the army thing.”

“Speaking of-” Silje trailed off and sat up to face Ivar who had put her laptop on the floor and was now leaning against her gigantic pile of pillows. “-what happened exactly? I know it's none of my business, you can tell me to bug off if you don't want to talk about it, bu-”

“You're rambling again,” Ivar pointed out, his smug smirk all over the place like every time he caught Silje in one of her awkward moments. “'s okay, I don't care. At this point I don't see why I would hide anything from you.”

“Oh.” Silje paused for a second and then asked with the biggest smile, “Do I know all of you deepest, darkest secrets yet?”

“Most I'd say. I'm keeping some of them so you don't get bored of me,” he laughed.

If there was one thing Silje noticed the last couple weeks, it was that Ivar was so much less angry than the first time they talked. Back in December he was bitter and mad at the world for the way it treated him. Now that his life had a bright side again, he smiled more, she didn't catch him frowning and glaring at the empty space every time he thought she wasn't looking.

“Why didn't join the army, Ivar?” Silje asked him, sitting Indian style next to him.

“I tried, almost as soon as I realized that I would be evicted. It was the easy way out and I'd always been an athletic person so I was sure it'd work.” He shrugged. Another thing Silje noticed about him was that he never shrugged when something wasn't a big deal, she learned to see it as the sign that, on the contrary, it was a major deal to him.

“Got rejected?” She guessed, Ivar nodded in response. “Why?”

“That's the tricky part,” he said, suddenly embarrassed and avoiding Silje's eyes. “Try not to freak out.”

“Okay.”

“Say it,” he insisted.

“I won't freak out,” Silje vowed, raising her right hand like they did in court on American TV.

Ivar hesitated. Whatever he was about to blurt out must not be something he liked to talk about or wanted people to know. Every second of silence worried Silje a little more but she promised she wouldn't freak out.

“Because of my legs. They were fucked up way before I got beat up.” He saw Silje open her mouth, no doubt ready to fire a bunch of questions he did not want to answer so he gave her a short version to satisfy her curiosity, for now at least. “It's my bones, they are too weak. Even if I had money or insurance it's fucking incurable.”

“What kinda shit karma do you have?!” Silje burst out, nearly spilling over both of their cups of tea – a first degree burn was the last thing Ivar needed. Then she breathed slowly to try and collect herself. “Weak how?”

“Weak like they don't heal as well as most people's. Weak as in going to the gym or for a run is fine but participating in a several days trek in the wilderness while carrying over 60 pounds worth of military gear is not.”

“What about your knee then?”

“What about it?”

“Well, are you going to be okay? Is it healing all right or have you been withholding information? If you don't want to tell me that's fine, but at least tell Ubbe,” Silje reprimanded him, giving him a scolding glare.

She could understand that admitting to her, of all people, that he was in tremendous pain could be a blown to his ego – however stupid it was to place one's ego over one's health – and she knew that Ivar was proud and liked to appear as strong. Silje knew it wasn't just a façade and that he was one of the strongest person she had ever met, but he felt the constant need to prove himself anyway. However, someone needed to know and help him, and if he was too prideful to tell her then he had to go to her brother and current doctor since he still didn't want to go to the hospital.

“What on earth would it change if I whined to you all the time?” He snarled, shrugging again.

“Fuck you, Ivar! How many times will I have to tell you that I do not pity you?!”

“Oh c'mon, you're whole demeanour screams 'oh poor little Ivar',” he replied.

His voice was calm and steady, he didn't say it with any malice but what hurt the most that that he didn't realize how hurtful it was to her. Silje had done nothing to let him think that she took pity on him, not once during all the weeks he spent living with her and that was how she was rewarded? Mistrust? Disdain?

“I don't wanna talk about this with you, okay? Enough with all the pitying me, I can't stand it.”

This struck a nerve and Silje could feel her right brow twitch in anger.

“Get outta here!” Silje tried to push him off her bed but it was about as successful as trying to move a brick wall.

“Hey, hey, calm down! I didn't mean it like that!” Ivar protested. “Don't be angry, I'm the one who should be angry, not you.”

“Oh but I'm not angry,” Silje told him in bad faith. “I'm tired, I want to sleep now so get out.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? I said get your ass out of my bedroom!”

“Don't be mad. I'm sorry if I offended you,” Ivar tried to make peace.

“Apologies accepted,” Silje snapped and grabbed the nearest book to pretend she was busy and to show she was done with him. “Now leave.”

“You're still mad at me I can hear it. I can't leave if you're still mad.”

“Sure you can. You stand up, walk out, and close the door behind you,” she instructed, her eyes not leaving the book in her hands. Gods help her, she didn't even know what book she had grabbed, much less what the page her eyes were set on was about.

Ivar ignored her attempt at being a smart-ass, and shifted on her bed to move closer to her, his hands running through is freshly cut hair as usual when he was nervous. It was a lot better now, Silje hadn't lied when she told him that she knew what she was doing. She allowed him to keep his hair rather long. He now sported a clean undercut and went to his job interviews with a man bun. She teased him for being a hipster.

“Silje,” he said, gently removing the book from her hands. He could tell she was angry and hurt and not in the mood so he did what he promised himself he wouldn't do: he dropped the subject. This required a change of strategy.

“I already told Ubbe,” he confessed in a sigh, and saw Silje's eyes drift to him for a split second before going to her lap now that she didn't have her book anymore – which she had been holding upside down.

“Oh?” That shut Silje's mouth faster than he expected.

“So now we forget about this and we move on to something a little less depressing. Also there's no reason why you should always be the one asking all the questions.”

Her jaw clenched and unclenched, her eyes set on him as if trying to read his mind – she must have liked what she found because she shrugged and said a low little, “fire away.”

“Your brother has a wife and kids?”

She fought back the smile that threatened to split her face and put tremendous effort into glaring at him instead of giving in to her good mood. She was mad at him, she couldn't be smiling just because he mentioned Hvitserk's family.

“He has a fiancée and kids,” she corrected him. Unpon seeing the astonishment on his face, she added, “Yeah, I know it's crazy. Can you even imagine having a family at his age?” Silje gave in rather easily. If possible, she always tried to not go to bed mad at someone so she might as well try and forget their argument.

“God no, I can't even imagine owning a plant right now,” Ivar chuckled. “How did it even happen?”

“Well-” Silje started, a look of mischief painted on her face. “When two people liked each other very much, they-”

“Not that, gods Silje!” Ivar protested, nudging her and making her laugh though he almost spilled his drink on her bed.

“Okay then, he was in High School, always quite the charmer. I mean, you met him so you can easily imagine now. Anyway, he had a girlfriend back then, Inge, bless her soul she still puts up with him, and he got her pregnant during senior year. Our parents were out of their minds,” Silje kept on filling in Ivar without any consideration for Hvitserk's privacy.

To be fair, she would have told this story earlier, while her brother was sandwiched between Ivar and her if he hadn't interrupted her.

“It was really hard in the beginning, especially when he lived in the streets for a few weeks, his girlfriend pregnant and living with her parents still. He had a bit of trouble convincing them that he would make a good father to their grandchild. Now six years later they are still together, they have two little boys, and he still hasn't made her an honest woman.”

“So what you're saying is that in order to be a respectable member of society, a woman has to be married?” Ivar teased her, making her blush in anger.

She should have seen this one coming, she made a poor choice of words. Ensued a ten minutes argument that Silje won eventually.

“How old are they?” Ivar asked to change the subject.

“Six and two. Boys,” she told him. “I think... I think Hvitserk is going to leave the army.”

This caught his attention, as did the worried crease barring her forehead. Ivar turned his chest to better look at her. They were now both lying next to each other on her bed, their arms touching.

“Why are you saying that?”

“Now that Ubbe is a civilian again and doing fine, I think he's considering it. I know that he barely sees his boys, he feels terrible about going away all the time, he's hardly home anymore, he doesn't see them grow up like a dad should. And he misses Inge, maybe even more than she does him. I tease him all the time about his not being married, but he might actually grow a pair and pop the question too.”

“Do I get to be your plus one at the wedding reception?”

“Ivar! If I didn't know better I'd think you're using me to get free food!”

“If being homeless taught me one thing, it's that you never know when your next meal will be,” he tried to convince her by using his old wise man voice, but Silje's eyebrow merely had a tremor as she glared at him, half amused, half dismayed. “And I want to see your brothers' faces when they see us together.”

“Oh Ivar,” Silje cooed this time, placing a hand on his arm and rubbing soothingly. “There are less painful ways to go if you want to finish yourself off.”

He let out a dry laughter and grumbled something about this no being funny, though Silje was pretty sure it was very funny - at least it was to her. Ivar pretended to sulk and turned his back to her but Silje was having none of it and poked his side and nudged him until he gave in and turned back around, facing her once again. She promised him his favourite cake if he stopped frowning and so the conversation was back on track

For an hour or so it went on and on, the discussion moving from one subject matter to another, their voices growing faint and sleepy. Nonetheless Ivar and Silje fought to keep their eyes open, until one of them finally gave in to their exhaustion and the other one gladly followed. Neither of them found it difficult to fall asleep huddled against one another on Silje's bed – in fact, it would be the best night's sleep they had in a while.

If you like my work please consider buying me a coffee <3

TAGLIST: @thamexx @w-hap @kianya-loves @deleteidentity @feistybaby @cute-freak27 @teenagephilosophersandwich

@thinemineours

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venactricisfics · 7 years ago

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What’s Life Without A Little Risk?

Negan X OC, Smut, Oral, Negan-like language. Continuation of Unexpected.

@negans-network @neganmorgan @mypapawinchester @jeffreynegan @ask-kakashihatake

I relax against the door of my Sanctuary apartment. The walk of shame wasn’t much different now than it was before. But this time I wasn’t really ashamed. I probably should be. He was ‘married’. Though I guess there was no divorce court or did it count that the man had a dozen wives.

And I sure as shit wasn’t gonna be one. Not that he’d asked.

I wipe the sweat and the judgmental look from my face. We all do what we have to do to survive. I hadn’t done that. But I saw the appeal. It would be easier to just latch on to someone that could protect you when you couldn’t fight for yourself. But me? I was just too damn independent. And I’d fought long before the shit show began.

Quickly I changed and brushed my teeth. I needed to get out of the Sanctuary for at least a couple hours. Clear my head. Flashes of his lips, his hands invade my thoughts at every turn. I suck in a breath and slide my piece in its holster at my hip. My finger softly tracing the carving on the butt. The one that reminded me the gun I carried was Negan’s. Not mine. I was alive in his good graces. Could be dead if that’s what he wanted.

I suck in a breath and step outside my apartment door. Groaning when I see Fat Joey walking my direction. In no mood for him or anyone else, I start to turn the opposite direction.

He’s the only other one that knows. Joey has a big goddamn mouth. Fuck!

“Hey, Joey,” I offer a smile in his direction. He grins stupidly looking down at me. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“OK?” he replies, “You’re one of Negan’s girls now. Whatever you want.”

Heat flashes across my face, “I am NOT one of Negan’s girls.” I pull my gun and shove the man against the wall, barrel pressed hard against Joey’s temple. “You tell any-fucking-body about what happened with me and him, and I will kill you.”

I’d never done anything like that before. I had skills. Against the dead. Protecting our people. But I’d never been violent before. Joey easily had a hundred pounds on me. He could have crushed me. But he didn’t. His voice shaky as he replied, “I… I won’t say a word. Promise.”

Holstering my gun, I nod, “Get the fuck outta here.” I wait until Joey had made his way down the hall and out of sight before leaning my back against the wall. What the hell was I doing?

I catch my breath again. I couldn’t go out there distracted. Not alone. And there is no one in these walls I could talk to about this. I couldn’t take their looks. They’d think I’d chosen the easy way. If I was honest with myself, maybe I did think about it. Being one of his wives.

I glance back at the Sanctuary and back to the gate in front of me. It rattles loudly when I slide it opening catching the attention of the corpses in the yard. Their jaws open and close, a rustle of a growl falls from them. “Shut up.”

I didn’t take one of the cars. I didn’t want to draw that much attention to myself, so I set out on foot. A stroll in the woods to clear my head, make me feel like me again.

“Why was I so stupid?” I spoke the words out loud as I slump down against a tree trunk. My eyes closed as the tears trail down my cheeks. I let my guard down again. With Negan of all people. I suck in a breath. Maybe it was just sex. Hell, even I needed to scratch that itch every now and then. He was a damn good fuck. I groan at the memory of him between my thighs. The heat from his breath against my skin.

“Well fuck me sideways,” his baritone unmistakable, “why is your ass out here and not back in my bed?”

“Maybe because I’d rather be out here,” I wipe my face with the back of my hand before I look up at him. That damn grin of his.

“I find that incredibly hard to fucking believe. Just thinking of the way your pussy clamped around me made my dick almost jump outta my pants,” he paces in front of me, Lucille resting on his shoulder.

I brush the dirt from the back of my pants after standing. “You are out of your mind. It’s just been a while,” I swallow hard, “I could have reacted that way with anyone.”

“Ouch,” he places his hand over his heart feigning a hurt expression, “but it wasn’t just anyone was it?” I turn away from him. I couldn’t let him read my face. He’s right. All of his lieutenants’ apartments were equipped with showers and hot water. If I’d have gone into Gavin or Dwight’s rooms, I could have been in and out of there showered shaved and untouched. Simon may have made a move. So would have Regina. I think. I hadn’t exactly wrapped my head around that one. But I didn’t go into any of their rooms. It was Negan’s.

“It doesn’t have to be a big thing, alright,” I bite my lip feeling the heat of his body as he stands close behind me. I feel Lucille’s sweet spot brushing against my calf when Negan’s hands cup my hips.

“Oh sweetheart, you /know/ it’s a big thing,” I hear the smirk in his voice as he grinds into my ass, “but if you don’t want it. I’m not gonna force you.” He spins me around. I lock my gaze with his. I could have lost myself in those hazel eyes.

“Fuck...I… Move,” I push him out of the way distracted by the walker inches away from him. Fingers grasp quickly for my gun. My finger squeezes the trigger and a bullet splatters its brains all over the forest floor.

“Come on,” his voice stern, “Every dead prick for miles heard that shit.”

“Is that your way of saying thanks?” Narrowing my brows. It was stupid of me to fire a gun without a silencer. Not for one walker. I couldn’t seem to get my shit together. He was in my head now. Distracting me.

“You think I need protection, sweetheart?” His eyes cut from me to the roamers that heard the shot, “Fuck. Let’s go too many of them.”

“We won’t be able to get back,” I move quickly through the woods. The line of walkers blocked the path back to the road. “Follow me. There’s a place up ahead.”

“Move your ass, I’ll be right behind you,” he swings his bat, collapsing the skull of a corpse that got too close. I couldn’t hear my thoughts over the pounding of my heart. Racing deeper into the woods.

“Well well,” he smiles again as I lock the door to the cottage, “you been keeping things from me?”

“I didn’t mean to,” dust leaps off the oversized sofa as I flop down, “this is just a place I found to be alone. Read, without being bothered.” I glance around at the bookshelves filled with various ones I’d scavenged over the years.

“I ain’t mad at you,” he leans Lucille against the wall, his long legs move him closer to me, “I’ll let you have it.” His gloved hand lifts my chin so my eyes meet his.

“What do I have to do?”

The frowns releasing me, “If I haven’t made it crystal fucking clear, you don’t have to fuck me if you don’t want to,” the smirk returns to his lips, “Though we both know you want to. I’m giving you this place out of the goodness of my fucking heart.”

“You never do anything out of the kindness of your heart,” boldly I stand up in front of him, “with you there’s always something. Everything is yours, right?”

“Damn fucking right,” he says, “everything is /mine/.”

“I’m not. I can’t be.”

“You can’t be what?” his heat-filled eyes bore into me.

“I can’t be yours. I’m not one of those women who need to get on their backs for a man to come to their rescue. I don’t need /your/ protection. I can take care of myself.”

“I have no fucking doubt that you can protect yourself,” he responds, “That’s part of what makes you super fucking hot.”

“Don’t you get fucking exhausted of that?” Squaring off in front of the man, probably not my best idea. But there’s no turning back now.

“Of what?”

“Being an asshole all the time.” My heart pounds loudly in my chest. With a movement, he could end me if he chooses. But I wanted to see him. To see if there was something more to him than just posturing.

“What did you say to me?” He stares down at me. My eyes searching his for something in his. Anything.

“You heard me,” it’s too late to turn back down the road I’d traveled on. I’d figure him out one way or the other. If he was truly sadistic or if this was the persona he put on to survive.

“I was right about you,” his lips curve into a smile, “you got some massive balls on you, sweetheart.” His body relaxes and he settles down on the sofa, pulling me down beside him.

“Wait, what?”

“It’s gonna be a while before the dead fuckers clear out,” he responds. As if on queue a crash of thunder echoes from outside, “as much as I’d like to see you /wet/. I’d much rather stay outta the rain.”

“Are you fucking with me?” I turn facing him. “When we get back there you gonna throw me in one of your cells or burn my face?”

“Is that what you think of me?” his eyes almost sad somehow. “You think I’d punish you for calling me an asshole?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I just don’t understand you,” I let myself relax a little. “I want to.”

“I’m not hard to understand,” he says, “You’re right, I’m an asshole. I have to be. Maybe I always was.” He rakes his hand down his face. I’d never seen him in this light before. Well other than last night.

“You don’t have to be,” Unable to stop myself, my hand reaches up caressing his bearded cheek. “Not with me.”

“I /always/ have to be, no exceptions,” he responds accentuating his words.

“None?” I inch closer, forgetting myself again. Forgetting that who he is. Seeing who I know he can be. Or maybe just who I want him to be. I press my lips softly to his.

I’m not certain if I’d caught the man off guard but he responds to the kiss gently. Not as possessive as the one's last night. “None,” he speaks against my lips as I lean back pulling him with me.

His hand moves slightly over the soft cotton of my shirt. It wasn't eager or forceful but almost lovingly. My hands move along his neck a push at that stupid leather jacket he always wore, shoving it down his shoulders.

“Slow down sweetheart,” he raises to slide his arms from his jacket, “I might get the idea that you actually want me.”

“Shut up,” I mutter pulling him back to me, longing to taste his lips again. My hand inches down his chest, along his torso, finding the bulge in his jeans. As quickly as I found him, he pulls my hand away, pinning it to the couch above my head.

“You are gonna make me lose my cool, sweetheart,” he pins my other wrist above my head. “I’ve told you already about fucking telling me to shut up.” With one hand he holds both wrists as his other moves down my body. I groan when he cups my mound over my jeans.

“What was that sweetheart?” Negan’s fingers pop open the button and yanks down my zipper. “I didn’t hear an apology.” The grip on my wrists tightens and with the other hand fingers trace my folds through the satin panties I was wearing.

“I.. I’m sorry,” words fall from my lips a whimper.

“Fuck,” he groans tugging my panties aside. “You’re practically soaked and I’m barely touching you.” Nodding I look up at him, moaning as his finger glides over my clit. “I like that sound you made there, goddamn.” His thumb finds my clit, playing over the sensitive nub. My hips buck against his hand, needing the friction. “Hold on, we got plenty of time.” He pulls his hand from my pants, releasing me and sitting back on the couch. His eyes cut to the boarded up window, “It’s piss pouring rain out there so it’ll be a while before we can head back.”

Sucking in a breath I squirm free, attempting to straighten my clothes. “Why do you do this to me?” I rest my head in my hands. I didn’t want to want him but fuck I lost my head around him.

“I’m not doing anything to you,” his voice softer than normal. “Nothing that you don’t want.”

“I know, my head's all over the place about you.” I stand up pacing the floor. “You’ve got so much drama around you. Your wives, your men. I don’t want in the middle of all that. But…”

I turn back toward him, “fuck… I can’t fucking help myself when it comes to you.”

I never kneeled for him before. He didn’t push the issue. Not with me or most of the other women. But now I dropped down on my knees in front of him. Cupping his face in my hands, my lips press against his. Hard and fierce. Wanting, needing. No more doubts. I tug free his belt and slip my hand inside his pants. Stroking him long and slow as my lips mold against his.

“Sh-it, girl,” he says as I pull away for a moment to focus more on freeing him from his pants. “You really know how to work my dick.” I shake my head and lock my gaze with his. My hand stroking his full length.

“I want you to cum for me,” my words matter of fact.

“Don’t worry that’ll fucking happen,” he scoots to the edge of the couch leaning back, letting me work him. His cock twitches in my hand as my lips press against the head of him. Tongue gliding over the slit, seeping with precum. I moan at the taste of him. My lips wrap eagerly around the head of his member, inching slowly down. Taking in all of him. My free hand cups his balls massaging gently. I suck hard. Just once, before bobbing my head back up. I look up at him, his eyes dark as they look back down at me.

“Fu-uck,” he mutters, his fingers tangle in my hair. I move my lips up and down his length. Bobbing up and down. Side to side, my hand stroking in time with the movement of my lips. The grip of his fingers in my hair tightens. I know it’s all he can do to keep from thrusting in my mouth. But he knew in this moment I needed to be in control. He gave me control. Letting go. Hot spurts of cum hit the back of my throat. My head lifts slightly and I suck the head draining every drop from him.

“Goddamn,” he shouts as I pop him from my lips. “None of my wives suck my dick like that.” I raise up settling on the couch beside him, a thumb wiping the corners of my lips as they curve into a smile. I’d have to get used to that. Being compared to them. I couldn’t imagine myself as one of them though.

“Well, I guess I have value now,” I smirked over at him.

“Fuck that,” he replied, staring over at me, “Even before you snuck into my room last night, you had fucking value. You were noticed. And not just because you have a nice ass.” He pulls me closer to him, draping his arm around my shoulders, “And you have a /nice/ ass. But you don’t take shit from no body. Even me. And I /like/ that.”

“You like me telling you how you are?” I look up at him puzzled.

“As long as you don’t bust my balls in front of the men, why the fuck not?” He moves his arm and stands up. “I gotta take a piss. One moment.” I watch him stand. I hadn’t given myself the chance to notice him before. His long legs. The way he walks like he owns the world. And in many ways, I guess he does own this world. When he moves down the hallway I stand, peering out the boarded up windows. Watching as the rain comes down and the room grows darker. Smiling, I grab a battery powered lamp from the bookshelf and walk down the hall.

“We may be here a while longer,” I call in the direction of the bathroom. “It’s a monsoon out there.” I turn heading the opposite direction into the bedroom. Digging through the drawers I pull out a bag of chips from the Sanctuary and a couple bottles of water. I smile as he steps into the room. “You think they can manage a night without you?”

“Those shit for brains, maybe,” he smiles that fucking smile of his at me. “But if we go back and it’s burned to the ground it’ll be worth it.” He rests his hands on my hips, pulling me flush against him.

My fingers curl into his t-shirt and I step up on my toes, “You think so?” My lips brush against his.

“I fucking know so,” his hands move down my thighs lifting me up. My legs wrap around his waist and my arms around his neck. Fingers comb through the salt and pepper hair at the back of his head. Our lips press hungrily together. He carries me and drops me on the bed. Smiling down at me as he lifts one foot to untie my boot. Slow, too fucking slow. He dropped the boot to the floor and starts at the second one. He chuckles seeing the frustration on my face. “You want my dick that bad?”

“Quite possibly,” I raise up on my elbows to look at him. My eyes travel from his face down the bulge in his pants, “But I think you want my pussy just as bad.” He yanks my pants down swiftly.

“You would be right about that,” he toes off his own boots and drops his pants to the floor and pulls his shirt up over his head. He plops down on the bed beside my fingers ghosting over my soft skin as he pushes my shirt up. His lips find mine again as his hand cups my tit in his hand. His thumb circling the nipple as it hardens to a peak.

My moans muffled by his lips on mine. He rolls me onto my back, balancing his weight on his elbows resting on either side of my head. His dick hard, pressing against my thigh. I squirm trying to position myself under him. He smiles against my lips, his hand moves down between my legs finding me wet and wanting. He shifts taking his cock in his hand, eyes locked on mine as he tickles my entrance with the head before thrusting hard inside me. I let out a deep moan as he drives deep inside me, filling me to the hilt with his length.

“Mother fucker,” he groans, “fuck me, goddamn.” He pulls out and thrusts back hard. I thought about telling him to shut up again but drop the idea. Negan likes the sound of his voice. And the booming sound of his voice just made me even wetter.

My hands grip tight to the muscles in his back, urging him deeper and faster. He complied with hard fast thrusts inside me, pushing me closer to the edge.

“Open your eyes,” he groans, “I want to see them when you cum.”

I nod my gaze fixed on his. “Fuck me harder.” He hooks one of my legs over his arm with a smirk and pumps faster inside me. My hips lift to meet each exquisite thrust. His hand slides between us finding my clit, rubbing in tandem. My senses in overdrive as I feel my body start to tremble under him. My walls tighten around him. My head falls back.

“Look at me,” he orders his movements more deliberate. My dark, pupils almost blown as I look at his face. The spark starts at my clit, where his finger is playing me like a cello, radiating along my legs and flame ignites inside as he brushes the exact spot. “Fuck you are even hotter when you cum.” He drives once more hard before pulling out and releasing all over my stomach.

My heart pounds in my chest as I start to come down from my euphoria. I look over at him then grabbing an old shirt from the former occupants from the floor. Wiping his cum off and chuckle. “You made a mess.” He smirks as he glides his finger between my thighs, “So did you, sweetheart.”

Sleep came easily lying next to him. My naked body pressed against his. My head resting on his chest.

________________________________________________

I let out a groan when the sun peeked between the boards of the window. My arm reaching up to cover my eyes. I reach over trying to find him, his warmth finding his spot in the bed empty. My eyes open and I stare at the ceiling. Realizing it’s time to get back to the Sanctuary. Back to reality. Negan would never be mine. And I couldn’t belong to him. Not in the way everyone else was his. I wipe away a tear. It was just a fantasy.

I crawl from the bed and dress. Wondering how long ago he had left. Or if I should go back or move on. It’s safe in the Sanctuary or safer than anyone else out there. Hell, better or worse it was my home.

I rub the sleep from my eyes as I make my way into the living room. Surprised to see the back of his head as he sits on the dusty couch. His feet up as he munches on the bag of chips I’d left out. “Well good morning to /you/.”

“I thought you’d left,” I settle down beside him on the couch.

He chuckles, “I was looking forward to morning sex.”

I snort, “I bet you were, cowboy.” I reach into the bag grabbing a handful of chips, “But that is all the food I have here. And I need breakfast.”

“You didn’t plan your seduction shit very well now did you?” he replies.

“You are supposed to be seducing me. Come on,” I feel my stomach growl, “I can make you pancakes.”

“A good fuck and a cook?” he stands towering over me, “I think I’m in fucking love.”

I offer him a smile, knowing he was joking, I wanted to say it back. But I’d heard his wives say they loved him. They didn’t mean it. And I didn’t say shit, I don’t mean. And I want to be certain I could deal with all the Neganized drama that came along with him before I let my heart get invested. Let my heart get more invested.

I look out the boarded up window then back to him, “It’s clear.” He rested Lucille on his shoulder and held the door open for me. We walk back in the direction of the Sanctuary in silence. If I were with anyone else I wouldn’t have questioned it. But Negan, he likes to talk.

Stopping to look up at him, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t fucking share a bed with my wives,” he responds, “I screw ‘em and leave ‘em to themselves. But with you twice. Not so sure how the fuck I feel about it.”

“Next time,” I swallow hard, “I can leave after. Or we can stop this, whatever the fuck it is before it gets started. I won’t cause problems.”

“We can play this shit by ear,” he smirks, “You suck my dick too damn good to give that shit up.” My cheeks flush and I start walking again. “You can play bashful all you want, sweetheart.”

#negan #twd negan #negan fanfiction #negan's thirst squad #negan x oc #smut #my fic

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blueyesandleatherjacket · 6 years ago

Text

Ghost of you, 11/?

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 11/?.

Pairings: Human!Nine x Rose; Human!Ten x Jack; Clara Oswald x Olivia Baxter (OC).

Synopsis: "I was a simple neurologist working for the great Maxence Spitz. This man is certainly a clever one. The cleverest of us all. I admire him; this is no secret to anyone, and working for him is a great honour."

A/N: I've started writing this fiction last year after I had a particularly weird dream (as usual) and after I wrote the prologue, I've put it aside to work on other stuff. I've gone back to it not so long ago and decided that it would be the fiction I would post next, after not posting anything for a while. I must have watched I am legend and Game of thrones way too much to come out with something like this but I hope you will like it. I am not a scientist, nor did I have a particular knowledge of sciences. I do my researches on the internet like everyone to make sure everything is as close to the reality as possible. I have a literature degree only. Writing is what I do and it makes me explore next fields, and learn new things.

“Sometimes things become possible if we want them bad enough.” - T.S. Eliot.

CHAPTER 11:

Seventh day of October. Day 1751 since the infection. Tegan Smith video log. Lot of things have happened since the last time I recorded something here. New results have fallen. New specimens have been delivered. Even the hierarchy here has changed. I was a simple neurologist working for the great Maxence Spitz. This man is certainly a clever one. The cleverest of us all. I admire him; this is no secret to anyone, and working for him is a great honour. He treats me better than my old boss who was constantly belittling me and giving me tasks that didn’t fit my abilities. Maxence let all my competences come out and exploited them the right way. His team is family to me and for someone who has grown up in an orphanage, that’s something really important. I fit in this team, in this family, and they accept me for who I am and never make any mean remarks but actually explain what I’ve done wrong and show me how to fix it. I’m evolving in the right way this time. Every step I take is a new progress to me. Well, until Maxence went out for this mission. I can honestly say that I hate the person who forced him out of his lab to go on the field. Catching a living specimen… It really was a stupid idea and a suicide mission. Only someone who didn’t know about the reality of things outside could ask for such a stupid thing. It could only go wrong and it did. It was a real disaster. Some would say that it could have gone worse than it did. Only three men are down on the ten that were on this mission. One death, two infections. To me, it’s a huge mistake to have sent them outside. Event if it was for a good cause, finding that damn cure, what we’ve lost isn’t worth what we’ve gained. Our leader, my mentor, Maxence Spitz, has been infected when a nightwalker bit his neck. Xavier died protecting him from a possible slaughter and Allegro… Allegro kept Maxence safe until they could come back here. Maxence has turned into a complete nightwalker. He has come back here in a crate and was transferred in a cage immediately after they arrived here. Allegro is infected though he has no symptom. He was transferred anyway. This obviously caused a huge mess in the hierarchy of our lab. We didn’t have a boss anymore and the chief of our security teams is down too. New leaders needed to be named. Maxence had picked his favourites before leaving. Wise man. That’s what I was thinking before I heard that I was now the leader of this team. Me, out of other people like Jack or Rose or Clara who deserved it more than me. Jack thinks that’s because Maxence had seen something special in me. I’m wondering what it is honestly. I’m perfectly aware that I wasn’t born a leader. I have the feeling that all my decisions are wrong. Was it a good idea to name Rory captain of all the security members? To have created that small cell working on Maxence? I’ve always been afraid of failing and right now, it’s worse than ever despite the support I have from the very same team I’ve created. Especially from Jack who is a better ally than I thought he would be with his changing mind and his extravagant personality. He clearly knows his limits. Rose worries me a lot too. We can’t deny that it’s her husband we’re working on and it’s seriously affecting her. We can’t pretend that we don’t see that she’s not okay but she’s kinda avoiding us so we won’t force her to talk about what is weighting her heart and ours. We can’t say that she doesn’t do her job properly because it would be wrong. She’s doing it more than right but she’s taking inconsiderate risks by always be around Maxence. We still don’t know how the virus gets from one person to another. If there’s any problem, we would lose another brilliant mind and this team would be lost. However, this proximity they share is also a good point for us. She was first to notice that Maxence wasn’t like any of the other nightwalkers, that he still had that part of humanity inside him. After further researches, Jack, Clara and I had come to the same conclusions. His DNA isn’t totally corrupted and his blood and brain are partly working like they used to before the infection but his primary needs like water and food and sleep are off. That’s what is making the nightwalkers aggressive and stupid. We had to sedate him to get clear scans of his brain. He was refusing to stay still even after we’ve tied him down which made him rather furious. He already was when we’ve put him in the crate to carry him to the scan room. It hadn’t been easy to catch him at all. He absolutely refused to come to us and had put as much distance as he could between him and us. He was avoiding us and when he felt cornered, he attacked. No one was harmed thankfully but we all were the witness of his intelligence. He ran straight to the palm reader. We haven’t thought of forbidding him the access because we never thought he would actually do something so clever in his condition. Zach was quick to lock the airlock thankfully. That’s a mistake we won’t do ever again. It could have had such disastrous consequences for us all. We were luck enough on that one. We may not have a second chance if we mess up once again. The sedative has had some interesting effects on his system. The humanity, what’s left of it in him, is increased by the sleep. I’ve noticed it on the scans before and after the sedative. Rose had noticed that his eyes were slightly losing their black colour. The original colour of his irises was showing up. It disappeared with the last effects of the sedative. I’ve seen that Rose recorded another entry in her video logs, an entry where she gives details about his vital signs while he was sedated. They weren’t normal but they weren’t very abnormal either. They were in-between but it’s a good sign for us. If we can ‘force’ his brain to feel the primary needs again, it could maybe reverse the process. It’s not gonna be an easy task obviously but we already fixed his sight today. We have forgotten that Maxence was short-sighted with all of that. It didn’t get better with the noctiagus but we gave him his glasses back and he looked better with them on. As if it had really changed something for him. We’ll see the results in the near future. I won’t post this video on the public interface. It’s more like an entry to my diary than an actual scientific report and it’s better if no one sees it. I just needed to vent and it’s done. End of the talk. Tegan sniffled and wiped his nose with a paper tissue. He was being emotional again. He hated being like this. He took a deep breath in to try and release the tension from his shoulders. This promotion was hard to live and he was restlessly wondering if he was doing things right. It even kept him from sleeping. He was exhausted but just couldn’t sleep. Not like Maxence who didn’t feel the need to sleep. Tegan rubbed his face and met the stubble growing there. He hadn’t shaved in days. They would all look wild if they didn’t have time to take care of themselves. They probably wouldn’t take the risk to shave Maxence. It would be giving him a weapon and it was dangerous to let something like a blade in his hands. Who knew what he would do with it? He was compelled to live with the growing beard on his face. Tegan smiled sadly at the memory coming up to his mind. He was remembering the first time he had met Maxence. A day he would never forget. Back then, he was working in the NINE, one of the most famous labs of this country. NINE stood for National Institute of Neurological Engineering. At first sight, you would say he was on his field but if you looked closer, he clearly wasn’t. His job there was only to keep his eyes on a screen and read lines of codes that weren’t related to neurology. He had learnt how to decipher those data and to report whenever there was a problem in a technology he could only dream of using.

– Flashback –

Tegan was leaning in his chair, bored. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of this screen in hours and there was nothing to report. This machine was working too well and it was burning his eyes to stare at the screen. He was having a hell of a headache once again. He had developed a tendency to violent migraines with this job. Even the meds he was taking couldn’t relieve him and he didn’t have the time to go and see a doctor. If he was absent for one second, they would fire him and he couldn’t lose this job even if they were treating him miserably and barely paying him. That’s the only thing he had at the moment and he didn’t want to lose the small flat he was renting. He rubbed his eyes and face as if it was gonna take his pain away. He hadn’t shaved in days and the hairs growing there were itching. It was the least of his troubles though. He had the feeling that someone was hammering nails right behind his eyes. How could he work correctly in such a condition? He glanced at the screen. Still no sign of a flaw in the codes. He grabbed the scientific magazine he had bought in the morning. With all of that, he hadn’t had the time to even open it. He had bought it because there was an article about Maxence Spitz’ new project and works. The man himself had a picture on the front. In a small frame on the side, but still. He admired this man and what he had done so far in scientific community. He was the greatest genius of this era. His colleagues here were mocking him, pretending that he wanted to be in a relationship with Maxence. It wasn’t like he would refuse if the man wanted to have a one-night affair but he knew that Maxence Spitz was straight and married with another genius of this planet. Anyway, for Tegan, Maxence would be the scientist who would change the whole world with his discoveries. He was so clever he could find a cure to the biggest and most lethal diseases this planet could count. And there were a lot of them. He put the magazine aside when he heard a knock on the door. It was rare to have someone knocking on his door. Not because he didn’t have many visits – the developers were maybe afraid that he would screw their precious codes up and were always checking – but because no one thought necessary to show him a bit of respect by knocking on his door while he was working. Sometimes, he was locking it just to be in peace and he was being yelled at for this but they weren’t sacking him for this. It wasn’t big enough of a mistake. Today was one of these days. He sighed and got up. He unlocked the door, opened it… and stumbled backward at the person standing before him. He thankfully managed to grab the side of the door to keep on his feet but the man before him was divided between a worried and a bemused face. “Are you alright?” Tegan would have recognised that northern accent anywhere. He had gone to lots of conferences just to hear the theories of its owner. Maxence Spitz. Doctor Maxence Spitz was standing before him. “Y-Yeah,” stuttered Tegan. “You surprised me. Didn’t expect you to be behind that door. Not many people knock around here.” “They should. Surprising a scientist while they’re working could be dangerous.” “I’m afraid I’m not doing anything that dangerous.” “That’s why I’m here. Can I come in?” “Sure.” Tegan let go of the door and gestured to Maxence to come in. He was slightly shorter than Tegan thought he was but he was compensating with his presence. This man certainly knew how to impose himself. Tegan offered him his desk chair and sat on an old wobbly stool. He was nervous and he had to stick his hand between his knees so it wouldn’t show. Maxence took his time to glance around him and his eyes fell on the magazine. He grabbed it and smiled. “They begged me for this interview,” he chuckled, opening the magazine to the page he was. “I honestly hate being the centre of attention. My wife thought it would be a good idea though. Like wearing this awful tie.” He played with it for a moment. He hated ties as much as he hated suits but Rose had forced him to wear one for this interview. He wasn’t very comfortable in those clothes and it was clear. Tegan moved nervously on his stool. He was wearing the same tie. He cleared his throat . Maxence looked up at him and his face showed how embarrassed he was. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that it was awful. It’s just that I’m not a suit and tie man. I’d rather wear a t-shirt and jeans. But it’s not professional.” Tegan was surprised to see that the man he admired was someone so normal. Someone like him in the end. It was quite funny to witness but if he didn’t get back to work, he would be in troubles. “Don’t you mind me interrupting you but… you said you were here for professional reasons… implying me?” “Oh… yes! Yes, absolutely! Like I’ve said to these reporters, I’m working on a new project, which is still confidential, and I’m looking for my own team members. It appears that you’re the best neurologist in the area. I’ve come here to poach you. Your director doesn’t know the chance he has to have someone as talented as you since he’s not using your potential the right way.” Maxence pointed to the lines of codes still flashing up on the computer screen. Not a job for a neurologist. “You can have me. Right now. I take the job.” Working for him would be a big honour and Tegan would make sure to never disappoint him if he was taken in his team. Maxence chuckled at Tegan’s eagerness and serious. He definitely was motivated for the job. “Your contract is ready on my desk. I’ve just come here to let your director know he was gonna lose an important member of his lab and to meet you personally.” Tegan was so surprised to be hired so easily without any job interview or tests that he would have fallen if he wasn’t sat. Maxence stood up and stretched his body. He gave a smile to Tegan and held a hand out to him. The neurologist shook it absently. He was too shocked by the situation. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. 8, in my office. No obligation to wear a suit or to be clean-shaved, unless you like it.” Tegan acquiesced. It was like a dream come true. He had a new job. A new job with a boss treating him decently. A new job where he would do what he loved. And all of this was thanks to Maxence Spitz. God must have heard his prayers.

– Fin –

Camden McCarson was an old grumpy Scottish man. It was the description he was making of himself of course. He would rather think that he had attack eyebrows because the world was doing everything to make him cross. It wouldn’t come to his mind that he was just a bitter paranoid man who had suffered from so many ordeals in his life that he preferred being as pessimistic as possible and making mean comments whenever people were getting on his nerves. He was always on the move, always travelling as far from home as he could. To the question what was he looking for, he replied that he would know when he would have found it. So far, he couldn’t say he had found anything that was fitting his expectations. He still couldn’t put words on what he was looking for but the adventures his job was creating was enough to make him forget. He was making money by finding stuff and people that seemed to have disappeared from Earth. Once, he was working on a rather tricky case that had led him in the middle of Chiswick – something about a sat nav who had been stolen from the army, a sat nav full of secret information. That was the day he met Donna Noble. This red-haired woman had burst out in his life like a fury because he supposedly had collided with her car. It had appeared – after she was done yelling at him and hitting him – that they were working on the same case. Him, because he had been hired for it. Her, because she was bored in her life and had heard of this very important sat nav lost in nature. The medias had heard the rumours of this disappearance and it was all over the television and newspapers. Everyone was looking for a person to blame and the medias were worsening the situation. Of course Camden’s bosses had already tried to reach him but he hadn’t taken the calls. He wasn’t the one who had leaked the information and he certainly wasn’t gonna let anyone yell at him for something he hadn’t done. He would rather be sacked than being accused of something. His bosses knew better than to sack him though. He was their best element and he could be insubordinate and impolite and grumpy as much as he wanted because they wouldn’t take the risk of losing someone like him. So, when he had brought Donna to them asking for her to be his sidekick – ‘I’m no one sidekick!’ had she barked at him – because she was really good – not better than him but close enough – they had hesitated only the time to hear their final report on the matter they had worked on together. She had been hired based on those results. Camden wasn’t an easy man to work with but he had quickly learnt that Donna was no woman to be led around by the nose. She would rather have a go at him than accept his orders. They were always bickering on how to do some things but their work was done right and that was what mattered the most in the end. Plus, Donna knew she was indispensable to the man. She had taken him out of the loneliness he was burying himself into and she was often checking on him and taking him out of his office whenever he was locking himself in there for days just looking for a new interesting case, waiting for his boss to call him for a new inquiry. He reminded her a lot of Sherlock Holmes when he was like this. But mister Holmes was far from being as good and clever and arrogant as Camden McCarson could be. His office wasn’t what Donna had expected either. She was imagining him more in an old room with ancient furniture, libraries full of books and secrets, and maybe some painting portraits of past family members on the wall. His name seemed to have some nobility in it after all, but if it had any, Camden McCarson didn’t care at all about it. He was living his own life with his own rules and no one could change that. His office was surprisingly modern, all in stainless steel and blue and orange neon lights. He indeed had libraries full of ancient books and it was fitting strangely well in the middle of this office. There were two tables with four computers on them and flat screens hung on the wall just above. The computers were analysing the deep and dark web and the screens were silently displaying the news from all around the world. The best way to find good news to use. To complete it all, there was a huge desk in the bottom of the room. It was facing the door and turning its back to the large window although the owner of the place loved turning around to catch the spectacle of the sky when the sun was either rising or going down the horizon. He could also spend nights looking at the stars through the lens of the telescope set by the window. Camden McCarson certainly was a man full of knowledges and a great collector of weird objects that didn’t make sense to the beginner she was. She had learnt that asking questions could sometimes give answers. As long as she wasn’t asking about the woman that was on the picture he kept on his desk. He never replied to this question but she had often seen him lost in his thoughts while he had his eyes on this photography. When she stepped in his office that day, he was leaning in his chair, his feet crossed on his desk, his hands folded behind his head. A smile grew on the corner of his lips when he saw her. It was night outside but thankfully, he had offered her a room in the gigantic manor he was living in so she hadn’t had to go through the dangerous streets to meet him when he had called her at over 4am. Which was making rather moody to be honest. She hated being woken up by the mad man. “Don’t you ever sleep?” she grumbled. She had taken the time to pull on some clothes before coming. He would never seen her in her pyjamas. He was already being an arse with her normal clothes so if she did show herself to him in pyjamas, he would either choose to ignore them or make a comment that would infuriate her. Better not take that chance. “Barely.” “Yeah, I’ve noticed that.” To be honest, she had never seen him sleep. Whenever she was seeing him, he was up to something and he never seemed tired. But once again, it was a question he never really answered to whenever she dared asking him why he would stay up all the time. “What is so urgent that requires me to be up in the middle of the night?” “We have a new case.” “You’ve finally found something worth your talent?” “Someone sent me an email from London.” “There are survivors somewhere in the capital.” “Seems like it. Listen to this.” He brought his laptop closer to him and started reading the mail he had left opened. “Mister and Miss McCarson…” “Hm,” disapproved Donna. “I know, as if we could ever be married or even related.” “Oi, watch it old man!” Camden preferred ignoring the remark and not raising it. Their clients were always thinking that they were related in some way because of their ‘similar personalities’. They must be really blind to think such a thing of them. They were barely friends so to think they were relatives or married… “My name is Tegan Smith and I’m working at the London Centre of Researches for Contagious Diseases. As you might know, there is a virus spreading in the world and all the labs around the world have been requisitioned to find a cure against it. I can’t say more through this mail as our mission has to remain a secret to the people who aren’t working on this case. However, my colleague, the doctor Jack Harkness, has found something that needs to be examined by a professional detective. He highly recommended your services. Would you agree to a meeting with the doctor Jack Harkness and myself in the days to come in our lab? Please, let me know your answer quickly. Patiently waiting for your reply. T.S.” “This guy sounds like a newbie promoted to the head of his team by these dark times.” “What surprises me the most is that I know Jack very well and I also know he’s been working for one of the most brilliant minds this world can count.” “And that mind isn’t Tegan Smith.” “Oh, no. That’s why I wondered what happened to the real boss of this place.” “So, you wanna go just to see what he’s up to?” Camden put his computer aside and uncrossed his legs. He put them down and bent forward in his chair, leaning his head on one hand. He gave Donna another smirk. This was one of the reasons, yes. Maxence Spitz was a very interesting man and Camden couldn’t resist fighting another brilliant mind. He liked challenges and this looked like one. “We don’t have much work lately, don’t you agree?” “I’m not surprised at all since the world is coming to an end. Do you ever watch your own screens?” She pointed her thumb on the screens displaying the news from all around the world. Different channels but the news was the same: the virus was spreading, there were less and less survivors, less and less hope to find a cure. Some were even saying that the end of the world had come like the Mayas predicted millions of years ago. How many times the end of the world had been announced over the decades? It would be astonishing to have one being true in the end. “So, are we taking this case?” “We are.” “I’m preparing our luggage.” Donna quickly left the room. She wasn’t reassured by the fact they would have to travel through Scotland and England to reach that lab requiring their help but she guessed that security means would be established for them to travel safely. Especially since the situation had gone so critical in the last few days. To the doctor Tegan Smith’s attention: My associate, Donna Noble, and myself have examined your request and concluded that we were accepting the case you’re offering us. We can be there tomorrow. We leave to you all the organisation of the security means to guarantee our safety until we reach your lab. Cordially, McCarson & associates. The mail was sent and now, Camden was too thrilled to even find sleep. This mission was a real opportunity for Donna and himself. They better not screw it all up. So, while Donna was taking care of their luggage – more hers than his since she wasn’t his dogsbody – he made sure they would have a flight for London with his personal jet. No need to take risks and travel in public planes. They had to get to London quickly and discreetly and he hoped that Tegan Smith would make sure their security was guaranteed or it would cost him a lot…

To be continued...

×××

In the next chapter:

So she had been promoted into their private team. It was no surprise to Rose. Adam had been on the field, so had Allegro and Emily and Kyle. With the events of the last few days, they would need a psychological help. They only had doctor Amy Burnley. She hadn’t been hired by Maxence but that didn’t mean she wasn’t good. Rose just wasn’t into therapists. She had seen a lot of them after what had happened to her over fifteen years ago. They wanted to help her they had said but none of them was able to do so. Only Maxence had been able to and now that he wasn’t there anymore, she had no one to protect her against her demons.

×××

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thebiasrekkers · 5 years ago

Text

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,631

Chapter 29: I Need U

“All of the things you said are like a mask. It hides the truth and rips me apart.”

The doctor didn’t have to tell her that it was going to hurt. Eden knew full well what this shit was going to feel like. But that wasn’t to say she was any more prepared for it. Raelyn offered to give her something to bite on, or to inject her with some pain killers to help with the process. Eden wanted none of it. The last thing she wanted to be was numb for this. Every sting of discomfort would serve as an imprint across her entire body.

“Are you ready?” asked the doctor as he braced his palm on her shoulder, the other gripping firmly to her wrist.

Eden glared at the wall, a bead of sweat sliding from her temple to her chin. “…do it, Doc.”

She saw Raelyn out of the corner of her eye, standing just to the right of her bed. The doctor looked at the other nurses, receiving swift nods, before he yanked her arm straight up. There was a distinct crack as joints popped and he pushed hard onto her shoulder, another snap issuing soon after.

Her scream ripped through the entire hospital; positive that she just woke the dead.

Tears leaked out of her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. The tips of her fingers buzzed and itched with life, the circulation correcting itself in her arm. Nerves and muscles pulsed and cried; her arm feeling like gelatin. Her other hand went to clasp at her shoulder as the doctor urged her to cradle the limb in her lap. Nurses were already prepped to place her arm into a sling once she was wrapped and a splint was put into place.

She would have been more outraged had it been her right arm.

After making sure that she was okay, the doctor left a nurse with her, as well as Raelyn. Eden felt a cloth touching her brow – presumably the nurse since her friend was glowering down at her. She had to resist the urge to spit onto the ground, reminding herself that she was, in fact, in a hospital. The nurse murmured a few things to Raelyn before handing her the cloth.

Raelyn was less affectionate with tending to her needs.

Eden’s head made a full tilt as Raelyn pressed the cloth to her temple. Her lip curled upward in a half snarl, giving her a side-eye. “Your bedside manner fucking blows,” she said through clenched teeth, feeling her friend half cuff her with the cloth.

“You’re not the first person to say it and you won’t be the last.”

“I’ll be the last if you don’t stop poking my damn head!” Eden snatched the cloth from her with her good arm. “Gimme that!” She wiped the sweat off herself.

Raelyn folded her arms across her chest, scrutinizing her. “How in the hell did you get mixed up with those assholes?”

“Don’t ask me!” she snapped, glaring up at her, “They just fuckin’ followed me, alright? Not like I was startin’ shit!”

As she continued to dab at her nose and forehead, Eden saw her friend mulling over something in her own head. This was the second time they’d both encountered a member of the Jade Fangs while they were together. It was no surprise that they would be curious about Raelyn. She was Hoseok’s ex-girlfriend; the former Hyungsoo-nim. Word would have gotten out that she was seeing Taehyung now, a little lower on the totem pole, but still a prominent member of the Golden Jackals. Or rather, former Golden Jackals.

But it was clear they had their sights on Eden, not her friend. As far as she was concerned, she wasn’t a blip on their radar. It wasn’t like the Jade Fangs weren’t as prominent as the Golden Jackals. Anyone who traveled through Myeongdong or the Mapo District knew whose territory that belonged to. They’d set their sights on Gangnam until it was wrested from their grasp by the Jackals. People who brushed with the underground were aware of all of this.

So why me? Eden couldn’t help thinking, her eyes narrowing, why now?

Her phone buzzed on the table beside her bed and she saw it was a message from Jungkook, saying he was on his way. Eden sighed, casting a sidelong glance to Raelyn as she took a seat beside her. “Did you have to tell Jungkook what happened?”

“Yeah, I did,” she said, her tone matter of fact, “better it be your ass and not mine.”

“Wow,” came Eden’s bland response as she rolled her eyes, “you’re the best friend a girl could ever ask for.”

Raelyn flashed her a shit-eating grin and Eden had to resist the urge to pinch and pull the woman’s cheek. “I know, aren’t I the greatest?”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too,” she said, looking at the EKG monitor with a slightly critical eye, “forreal though? Your blood pressure is elevated. Take a few deep breaths for me?”

Obliging without a fuss, Eden took a deep breath and then exhaled. She did it three more times before her friend was satisfied. Suddenly, Raelyn’s phone rang with life and she answered.

“Oh, Taehyung-ah,” she said, rising from her seat, “…yeah, I’m still at the hospital. But how did you know I’m with Eden? …you’re lying.”

Eden quirked a brow as Raelyn turned to look at her.

“You’re all coming here right now?” She watched her face screw up into a look that she couldn’t quite place. “Look, I know you’re all worried but there’s no need for…wait, what?!”

This time it was Eden’s turn to frown.

“What the hell is going on?”

Raelyn held a finger up at her, signaling to give her a minute, before she turned and dashed out of the room suddenly. Eden stared at the door before scoffing, rolling her head and eyes in sync as she reached for her phone angrily.

“That woman, swear to fuckin’ God,” she muttered, swiping her thumb over her pin number to unlock her phone.

The distinct click of her phone unlocking brought up the apps on her phone. It echoed in time with the door unlatching, but she didn’t bother looking up – thinking it was Raelyn returning from her phone call.

“So, who’s coming to bother me and about what?” she asked, pulling up her work emails.

“You just can’t keep yourself out of trouble, can you?”

Her whole body froze, eyes still locked onto the phone screen. Eden tried to pretend that hearing his voice wouldn’t shake her to the core. Not anymore. But as she lifted her face to look at the door, she mentally cursed the EKG monitor taking note of her heartbeat increasing its tempo.

Yoongi stood in front of the door, dressed in a casual suit with his dark hair slicked back off his forehead. His face betrayed nothing. It never did. But it was his eyes that always gave him away. Eden saw the anger there, but she also knew that it wasn’t directed at her. Not this time. Her lips parted to say something but she found her mouth closing, not sure what she wanted to say.

Eden cleared her throat loudly, shrugging one shoulder before looking back down at her phone. “I can’t help that trouble likes to find me,” she said, her tone light, “it just can’t leave me alone. Like some clingy fuckin’ ex…”

A shadow loomed over her, but before she could shift away or even figure out what was happening, she felt Yoongi’s hand encircling her wrist as she gripped even tighter to her phone. His other hand rested at her hip on the bed while he pulled her hand up and out of her lap – forcing her to lift her head to face him; to lock eyes with him. She struggled against his hold, their faces just inches apart, and she could tell he was holding himself back while she also held back from headbutting him straight on.

“Goddammit, Eden,” he snapped, pulling her arm closer to him, “this isn’t a game!”

She grinned at him, feeling an angry vein pulsing around her neck. “I didn’t realize we were playing a game, Yoongi-ah.” Her tone was sickeningly sweet, her bicep growing taut as she tried to pull from his grasp. “Am I winning yet?”

“You talk about truth and lies,” Yoongi began, his voice shaking slightly as he tried to keep her arm in place, “and what good has the truth been for you, huh? Fucking look at you, Eden!”

“What about it?”

“I may have lied, but I don’t remember you ever getting hurt because of it!”

Eden felt her eyes narrow sharply. “…what’d you say?”

“I kept you away from this shit for a reason and now you see why.”

“You guys are supposed to be legit now,” she said while rolling her eyes, “so I don’t see what the problem is.”

He scoffed. “Don’t play stupid, Eden. We’re barely able to walk after having crawled on the ground. It wasn’t going to be that easy. It isn’t going to be that easy. You know how this shit works better than most people.”

Yoongi released her hand and she yanked it upward, causing her phone to fly from her grasp. It landed on the ground with a loud clatter but neither of them moved to retrieve it. All they could do was stare at each other, the anger dancing around their eyes and sparking between them. Her heart monitor was beeping like a time bomb, but she didn’t care. She wanted to take the chords pressed to her chest and wring his damn neck with them.

Because he was right, and she fucking hated him for it.

The door flew open just as Yoongi got off the bed, making his way to where her phone had been discarded. Raelyn’s eyes were wide as she saw Yoongi. Looking between him and Eden, she frowned and snapped her fingers at him.

“You must have been a goddamn ninja in your past life, Min Yoongi,” she said as he dropped the phone into Eden’s lap, “or I’m going even more fuckin’ blind these days.”

“It might be a little of both, Raelyn,” Yoongi replied casually, brushing past her and heading for the door. He paused, glancing over his shoulder to look at Eden, the sound of hurried footsteps echoing from the hall. “…I’m glad it wasn’t anything major, Eden.”

She sighed, averting her gaze from his as she crossed her legs on the bed. “…whatever, Yoongi-ah.”

Within seconds, she heard three sets of panting breaths and she looked up to see Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung attempting to squeeze into the doorway at the same time. Yoongi was already gone and she bit her lower lip, her brows knitting together as Jungkook forced his way ahead of the others. Raelyn must have sensed that she didn’t want to be bombarded with twenty questions. The older woman wasted no time ushering out everyone except Jungkook from her room. Jimin and Taehyung protested, but with a quick intake of breath and smack to their heads, they relented and allowed themselves to be shoved out.

Jungkook was immediately at her side, sliding into the chair that Raelyn previously occupied. He grasped her hand in his, his eyes darting over her entire form before resting on her arm that was draped in the sling. He frowned, his other hand moving to sweep some of her hair from her forehead. Eden unconsciously leaned her cheek into his palm.

“Jesus, Noona,” he said, his voice shaking slightly, “are you sure you’re okay?”

She chuckled. “I’m fine,” she said with a shrug, “you should have seen the other guys.”

“...did you really hide razor blades in your hair?”

“Damn straight I did!”

“I’m not sure if I should be afraid or impressed right now.”

Despite her attempt at making the situation light-hearted, she could see the heavy weight falling on Jungkook’s shoulders. Like he’d just realized something and wasn’t willing to speak it out loud. Eden felt her smirk fall, reaching out to flick him on the forehead. He reared back, rubbing at the sore spot with one hand as he groaned in protest.

“H-Hey! What was that for?!”

“For trying to feel guilty about something that is out of your control,” she fired back, “it’s not anyone’s job to protect me around the clock and I can take care of my own damn self. So, don’t go trying to blame yourself for the shit that happened today.”

“Eden Noona…”

“I mean it.” Her eyes narrowed sharply at him. “Do it again and we’re done, got it?”

He didn’t look like he was satisfied with being given an ultimatum, but he had no real reason to go against her. It wasn’t like she was trying to be a bitch. She just didn’t want him worrying about unnecessary things. They were taking the necessary steps to do things the right way. And if what Minhyuk said was true, then the Jade Fangs were going to do everything in their power to drag them down from greatness.

Like fuckin’ crabs in a barrel, she thought bitterly.

Shifting over in the bed, she leaned over to one side of the bed to set her phone back down on the small nightstand. Eden patted the empty space beside her and Jungkook looked at her curiously. She gave him an annoyed expression, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

“These hospital pillows suck ass.”

The look of realization spread over Jungkook’s features and he shook his head, moving from the chair to climb into the bed beside her. Motioning for her to sit up, she did so and waited for him to settle back onto the pillows. When she felt his hand touching her opposite shoulder did she fall back gently onto his arm, nestling into the crook of his shoulder. His cheek rested on top of her head and he held her other hand against his chest. She took comfort in the feel of his heartbeat, but there was something gnawing at the back of her mind. For once, she was thankful for Jungkook wanting to remain silent for a little while longer – leaving her to her thoughts.

Eden tried to keep the frown from forming at the corners of her mouth, but it was proving fruitless. Because she couldn’t stop thinking about what Yoongi said. Because he wasn’t wrong.

In the years she’d known him, nothing had actually ever happened to her. Because he’d kept her away from all of that. If she chose to walk in the dark, it was only for a short while; never prolonging her stay than what was necessary.

But what was more disturbing was that the boys were now walking in the light. Someone in the Jade Fangs didn’t like that. They didn’t like it at all. And now they were letting them all know that they weren’t just going to sit idly by and watch them bask in the sunshine, leaving them to rot in the shadows alone.

No, she thought, trying to chase away the morbidity of what that suggested, I’m just reading too much into this. Those guys are just a bunch of assholes.

Craning her neck to look up at Jungkook, she smiled when she saw him starting to drift off to sleep.

…they’re not so weak to fall for their stupid little games.

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