#but i think its easy to get caught up in how smooth these criminals are and forget they actively disembowl and dismember other cats lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Chapter 13

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“Explain again why you’re doing this to yourself, Mulder?” Byers asks with a pained look of concern.

He’s sifting through his closet, deciding what would be appropriately friendly for his outing with Scully. What kind of outfit says “I have no intention of trying to seduce you,” but also doesn’t leave him looking unworthy of seduction?

“I wish I knew, Byers,” he says as he pulls out his Greys jersey. Sports attire is very casual, but Val had once told him that he was devastatingly sexy in this jersey, so he tugs it off the hanger and puts it on over his white T-shirt. “I guess the idea of never seeing her again is even worse than being around her and knowing we’ll never be more than friends.”

Byers shakes his head slowly. “You’re a glutton for punishment, Mulder. Are you sure you aren’t secretly holding out hope that you can steal her away?”

Mulder buttons up the jersey and considers the question, his mouth quirked to the side. “I mean, I’m not actively trying to do anything, she’s way too smart for that and she’d see right through it. But the hope is there, sure.”

Byers nods sadly. “Well, good luck. Here are the keys, by the way.” He pulls a small key ring from his pocket and hands it to Mulder, who deposits it into his jeans pocket.

“Thanks, Byers, I appreciate the favor. I owe you one,” he says, clapping the man on the back.

After Byers is gone he brushes his teeth, considers and then decides against pounding a beer to calm his nerves, then says goodbye to Priscilla and heads to the Hoover building.

Scully is early, leaning against the passenger side door of her car when he pulls into the lot. He lets out a pained moan when he sees her, clad in flared jeans and a peasant-style flowered top that is cinched under her breasts. While he knows that realistically no human is perfect, Scully is about as close as it gets. He tries not to imagine what she’s got on under there, lest he embarrass himself.

He pulls up beside her and she opens the door, smiling at him shyly as she lowers herself into the passenger seat.

“Hi,” she says, and just the greeting makes his heart ache.

“Hey,” he returns with what he hopes is a casual, friendly smile. Do not leer at her. Do not gaze. He’s been giving himself frequent reminders.

“So, what do you have planned?” she asks as she pulls the seatbelt across her lap.

Mulder smirks in reply, backing out of the lot. “All in good time,” he says, and she gives him an appraising look.

“I’m not even sure why I’m instilling so much trust in you here, Mulder. Don’t push it,” she says with a playful tone, though it’s clear there’s some truth to the statement.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give you the preliminary details,” He acquiesces. “First we’re going to The Queen Vic, which has the best fish and chips in DC, in my humble opinion. Have you been there?”

She shakes her head.

“Perfect. Then we’ll head down to the wharf and get some ice cream.” He suddenly wonders if he’s made incorrect assumptions about what she likes, and casts her a concerned glance at a stoplight. “Do you like ice cream?”

She looks at him like he has three heads. “Who doesn’t like ice cream?”

He feels a little wave of relief. “I’m sure there’s someone out there who doesn’t like ice cream,” he replies, “but frankly, whoever they are, I have no interest in knowing them.”

She chuckles and there it is again, that ache in his chest. He wonders if it will fade over time.

The Queen Vic isn’t very busy just yet, given that they’re having an early dinner. They are seated at a small, dimly lit booth and each order a beer, fish and chips. Scully opts for an IPA and he feels a retroactive flush of embarrassment at the beer he served her, now knowing what her tastes are. She’s looking around, taking in the ambiance and British paraphernalia papering the walls, and he is looking at her. The cut of her top reveals the soft swell of her breasts, pale and inviting. Even her neck is beautiful, smooth and long and god, he wants to kiss it. Has he ever been taken with someone’s jawline before? Well he has now. Devastatingly beautiful, she is. Ache. Ache. Ache.

She’s looking at him now, and he smiles guiltily, having been caught. Fuck. He promised himself he wouldn’t do that. She bites her lip and fiddles with the salt shaker as though she’s not entirely sure what function it serves. What would a friend do? What would a friend ask? He needs to act like a friend, if he wants to be one.

“So, how’s wedding planning going?” he asks, the words feeling sour in his mouth.

She gives him a quizzical expression. “It’s okay. Fine, I guess.”

He nods. “And how’s Ethan?”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Um...fine. He’s fine. Mulder...why are you asking me about that? About the wedding, and Ethan?”

He dips his chin a bit, giving the pepper shaker a similar assessment. “I guess I just figured if we’re friends, a friend would ask about things like that?” He chances a glance at her and her expression is sympathetic, perhaps even pitying.

“You don’t need to do that, Mulder. We don’t have to talk about my relationship to be friends.” She’s running her finger over the condensation on the side of her glass, and he finds it disturbingly arousing.

“Fair enough, how’s work? Is that a better topic?” He is rewarded with a smile. My god that smile. She could melt permafrost with that smile.

“Work is great, no complaints,” she says coolly, an apparently genuine answer.

They drink, and eat, and talk. They talk about why she loves teaching, and how she got into pathology. He shares a bit about his methods for starting and then adjusting a criminal profile. They talk about med school, and his time at Oxford. He tells her about Phoebe and she admits a proclivity towards dating older men, with the exception of Ethan. It is so easy between them, and so right. He wants to scoop her up and steal her away in his car. Take her to a faraway place where there is no Ethan, where they can see this thing through. He notices how she often tries to hide her smiles, and the major role her eyebrows play in her facial expressions. She has a little mole above her lip that she’s attempted to cover with makeup, and her fingernails are perfectly manicured, like she has them professionally done. He wonders if she has tattoos, or piercings. If her bellybutton is an innie or an outie. If she prefers breakfast or dinner. If she likes morning sex. If she trims her pubic hair or takes it all off. He wants to know her, every bit. But he can’t. He never will. It hurts to think about it.

He drives them down to the wharf and they get ice cream cones from a stand near the water; she picks cookies and cream and he opts for rocky road. The evening is warm but not uncomfortable, the sun holding steady as it makes its descent towards the horizon. These are the dog days of summer, the daylight stretching well into the evening. No cover of darkness for a lover’s confession, not that he has any business making one. Friends meeting in daylight, above board. Never anything more.

They walk along the boardwalk, continuing their conversation between sweet licks, and he avoids watching her, but not entirely successfully. He must have been putting too much effort towards not staring and too little towards rotating his cone, because suddenly his ice cream flops over the side of its perch and lands on the ground with an audible smack.

He stops walking and stares at the now empty cone in his hand for a beat, and then he hears her giggling. When he looks over to her, she has her hand firmly planted over her mouth while she struggles to contain her laughter, the titters shaking her shoulders gently. The resulting swell of affection is overwhelming.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” he says dryly, and she works even harder to stop laughing, her face contorting into a grimace as tears pool in her eyes, shaking her head as though she could possibly deny her amusement.

He chucks his cone into a nearby trash can, then approaches her.

“Looks like you’ll have to share yours with me,” he says, moving his hand as though to take her ice cream, and she pulls it away with an open-mouthed expression of shock.

“Get out of here, it’s not my fault you licked yours right off the cone,” she says, wiping at her eyes with her free hand.

“Come on, Scully, friends share, don’t they?” he teases, maneuvering around to where she’s moved her arm, swiping at it playfully.

“Mulder, knock it off,” she replies, still smiling, and they are now moving in circles, him towards her ice cream while she artfully moves it out of his grasp.

Suddenly he swoops behind her, his long arms circling her waist and pulling her flush against him, pinning her stationary while he wraps his hand around her wrist and brings her ice cream cone to his own mouth. She shrieks in protest as he steals a big bite, and once he’s accomplished his goal, he becomes aware of their proximity. The feel of her pressed against him, the taper of her waist under his forearm, the smell of her shampoo in his nose. He grips her tighter, ever so briefly, but then releases her suddenly. He has no right. He crossed a line. She steps forward slowly, turning to look at him with pink cheeks.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, his arms dropping to his sides, woefully empty. Missing her already.

She shakes her head gently. “It’s okay,” she says, and they continue walking.

As they approach his car, the sun is just beginning to kiss the horizon. It’s nearly 8:30.

“This was really fun, Mulder, thank you,” she says with a shy smile, and he grins at the affirmation.

“There is one more thing I had planned, Scully, unless you have to get home right away,” he says cautiously, and she regards him with surprise, but not unpleasantly so.

“I don’t know, let me call my mother and see if I can stay out past curfew,” she jokes, but then adds “I suppose I’m curious to see what else you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“Great, let’s go,” he replies as he opens the car door for her.

———

She watches streetlights racing past as Mulder drives them to their final destination and feels a swell of guilt for how wonderful this night has been, then tries to talk herself out of it. She’s done nothing wrong, nothing inappropriate. She’s allowed to have dinner and ice cream with a man who is not her fiancé; he doesn’t own her. Given, the moment with the ice cream cone was a bit more flirtatious than might be ideal, but they were caught up in the moment. She tries not to remember the feel of his compact body pushed against her back, the strength of his arm around her waist. Tries not to imagine how it would feel to have him hold her like that without their clothes on. She closes her eyes and swallows.

They pull up in front of a darkened sports complex and she turns to look at him, questions communicated through her eyes.

“You don’t have something more worthwhile to do right now than slap a horsehide with a stick do ya, Scully?” he says with a smirk.

Her eyebrows lift. “Perhaps not, Mulder, but it looks like they’re closed.”

“A mere technicality,” he replies as he parks right in front of the main entrance, not even in a parking spot.

They approach the doors and he produces a set of keys from his pocket, holding the door open for her before he locks it behind them. There are security lights faintly illuminating the shuttered games and concessions, and she startles a little when she feels him slip his hand into hers, pulling her towards a hallway. His hand is broad and slightly callused, and she unconsciously threads her fingers through his. He glances at her, a slight cast of surprise in his features, but doesn’t say anything.

When they reach a large room, he flips on the lights and she sees rows of batting cages, five or six lined up on either side of a walkway down the middle.

“Are we supposed to be in here?” she asks him suspiciously, and he shrugs.

“The cops aren’t going to roll up or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says as he gathers a bucket of balls and two bats. “Even if they did, a couple FBI badges should send them off right quick.” He winks at her and she feels a flutter in her belly.

He motions for her to follow him to one of the cages, and she waits nervously while he loads the pitching machine and turns it on. When he turns around, he sees her trepidation and smiles warmly at her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he says reassuringly, and she forces her mouth into a tight smile.

He directs her to stand just outside the cage and demonstrates for her how the pitching machine works, talking her through his stance and movements for seven or eight pitches. He hits every single one, sending the ball crashing into the back wall with a padded smack, and she has the unsettling feeling that she’s about to embarrass herself.

“Alright, batter up!” he says, handing her the bat and sending her in.

She gives him a doubtful look.

“It’s easy, you’ll get the hang of it,” he encourages her, then shows her where to stand before he steps out and starts the pitching machine.

When the first pitch sails by, she winces and lets out a little squeak, but doesn’t swing. She can hear Mulder chuckle a little, but waits for the next one. When it comes, she swings way too early, and it flies past her head and bounces off the back wall. Three or four complete misses later, she looks at him woefully.

“I’m terrible at this, Mulder,” she whines.

He shakes his head and smiles at her.

“You just need some minor adjustments,” he offers, then comes inside the cage. He steps up close behind her and she startles a little at the contact.

“Sorry, is this okay? It’s the best way to show you,” he offers, and she nods, the back of her head brushing against his shoulder with the movement. He’s just showing her how to hit a stupid baseball. It’s the least romantic thing on earth, as far as she’s concerned.

He steps close again, wrapping his arms around hers as the length of his torso presses firmly against hers from her shoulder blades right down to her ass. She can feel his breath hot on her ear as he speaks.

“Now don’t strangle the bat, Scully, just shake hands with it,” he says as their palms brush over one another, vying for real estate. “We want to go hips before hands,” he continues, “stride forward, and then turn.” He motions with a hand in front of her towards the pitching machine, and she nods in confirmation. “It’s hips,” he places an open palm against her hip bone and physically turns her torso. She feels a rush between her thighs. “Before hands,” he replaces his hand on the bat and guides them through a mock swing.

“Okay,” she says, taking a steadying breath.

“Again, that’s hips,” there his palm is again, hot and firm and pressing into her flesh as he tilts her pelvis forcibly, “before hands. What is it?”

“Um, hips before hands,” she says breathily, resisting an overwhelming urge to press her ass back harder into his lap, to slip that hand beneath the waistband of her jeans so she can feel it on her bare skin. She has a vision of her riding him on the floor as the pitching machine flings balls aimlessly against the back wall, no one caring enough to hit them. She shivers.

“We’re gonna wait on the pitch, keep our eye on the ball, and then we’re just gonna make contact. We’re not gonna think, we’re just gonna let it fly, Scully, okay?”

“Okay,” she says shakily, her heart thrumming in her chest.

They take several swings, the bat making contact with the ball with a sharp crack. Mulder is murmuring in her ear about letting your mind go blank and forgetting about all your worries, but she’s too distracted by the heat of his body and the smell of his aftershave to hear him. If not for the risk of getting pelted by a ball, she just might turn in his arms, push him up against the wire-fence walls of this batting cage, and show him how she prefers to handle bats and balls.

The grip of his hands over hers on the bat pinches the skin around her engagement ring and she jerks. Mulder steps away from her a bit.

“You okay?” he asks, and she nods.

“Um, maybe I should try by myself now. Thanks for showing me,” she says without looking at him, and he steps back into the walkway to watch her. She hits the next three balls, then turns to smile at him victoriously. The pain and longing in his expression makes her heart sink.

After shutting the place down, they drive back to the Hoover building in relative silence, tension hanging thick between them like a curtain. He puts the car in park and gets out, walking her to the door of her own car, which strikes her as unnecessary. She stands by the open door, sensing that there’s something he wants to say.

“Scully….” he stops and shakes his head gently, talking himself out of it.

“What?” she asks, desperately wanting to know what he was going to say.

He clenches his jaw, fighting an inner battle.

“Scully, I know I shouldn’t say this to you. I know that you’re...with someone. I just-” he purses his lips, then closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, his eyes are so full of emotion it makes her breath catch in her chest. “I think about you all the time. Every second of every day.”

“Oh,” she responds lamely. There’s that urge again, the one she has to resist. “You seem like the kind of guy that believes in reincarnation, Mulder,” she says softly.

He gives her a quizzical look. “I don’t NOT believe in it,” he offers.

She smiles sadly at him, reaching out to grasp his hand and give it a brief squeeze. “Maybe in another life,” she says, then climbs into her car and shuts the door.

As she drives home, tears run down her cheeks freely. If she had to identify a reason for them, grief would be the closest one.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #alternate universe

51 notes · View notes

hoseokmylovesworld · 4 years

Text

Sway Me More | Mafia!Jungkook (M)

Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x Assassin!OC

Part 2: Sway With Me (M) / Part 3: Sway Me Smooth

Requested: Anonymous:

“ ok i think i got something. i was thinking e2l mafia leader!jk and assassin!oc. they're always competing on killing the same enemies and oc beats kook to it everytime but plot twist he's actually sleeping w oc in secret, his gang doesn't know that she basically does the dirty work for him. maybe a scene where jk is busy in his office and feels something is off and he and oc pull guns on one another but its just a form of power play bc that's their relationship. dirty talk, oral male receiving, reverse cowgirl in his office chair, choking, little bit of degradation bc one of the victims oc had to seduce but kook calls her his little slut bc he's possessive like that and they both just have lots of tattoos and piercings. maybe some light bondage too? he ties her hands and the petname sweetness? i love that shit sm. ok i'm out of ur hair now fksks ”

Genre: Mafia!Jungkook, BTS mafia au, Smut, humor, e2l, angst, pining.

Length: 15,664k Words

Warnings: Strong language, lots of violence, minor deaths, guns, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting, overstimulation, orgasm denial, dirty talk, BDSM(?), degradation kink, praise kink, light bondage, choking, breath play, spanking, rough sex (if you couldn’t tell), possessive!jungkook, Mr. and Mrs. Smith vibes.

A/N:

1. Not sure if this counts as a Song Fic, but this ask immediately made me think of Sway With Me by Saweetie and GALAXARA hence the title so that was on repeat haha (Stream Birds of Prey: The Album and Stay Gold for clear skin!!).

2. I didn’t mean to make the OC that crazy she just kinda was. Like honestly I don’t know what happened at the end there. Also, I thought it would be a fun dynamic for them to only refer to each other by last names. (Y/L/N)

3. Shouts out to this anon for being so specific! Writing this fic ruined my search history.

3.b You said a little bit of degradation, but I mighta over did it lol.

4. This is really fucking long. For no reason...I’m not sorry, it’s all worth it in the end. Please leave a comment, let me know what you think

Jungkook sat in the back seat of his black town car parked at the street corner, his eyes never leaving a specific window of the skyscraper adjacent to him. He watched as the piece of shit who meddled with his gang’s last drug deal canoodled with his lady friend in his apartment. Probably a hooker, he thought. This particular criminal to land on the mafia’s hit list, has been known to bring home many a sex worker.

He took a look at his Rolex and sighed; the man as slowly, but surely losing patience. They’ve been here for a good hour. A hit has never taken this long to complete for Jungkook’s team. He communicated his frustrations to his sniper, Taehyung, who was camped out in the building directly across from the apartments.

“When the fuck is this bitch gonna leave?” He grumbled through his earwig to his employee and friend. Taehyung laughs tiredly.

“Yeah, I’m asking myself the same thing. They’re not even fucking, they’ve been talking and kissing for like thirty minutes.” The sniper griped.

Jungkook chuckled, hearing the response in his ear. “Just stay sharp. Or you’re back on cockfight duty.”

Taehyung paused. “You wouldn’t.”

“Just focus, yeah?” Jungkook said, refocusing his binoculars to check on the couple in the apartment so that he could see them clearly. The bright lights in the room and the lack of curtains or shades helped him out immensely with that.

“Sure thing, boss.”

Jungkook could barely craft a response due to the shock that took over him at what happened next. He watched as the female sitting to the left of the target with her legs draped over his thighs, pulled a knife, seemingly out of her crotch, and stabbed the white collar criminal in the gut at lightning speed.

He lurched up in pain and grabbed at the knife only for his date to pull it out and stab him again, making deep eye contact all the while. She was obviously a strong woman to overpower a man of his burley stature. But why would she want to?

“What the fuck was that?” Jungkook asked immediately, continuing to watch the scene unfold carefully.

“Looks like his date just stabbed him.” Taehyung responded, just as confused as his superior.

“I can fucking see that, but why the fuck would the hooker kill him?” He raised his voice in annoyance. The murderous hooker finished the job, wiping her fingerprints off of the knife still lodged in the target's stomach and travelled to a nearby closet.

Jungkook watched, overcome with awe and confusion, as she returned with a duffle bag. And his jaw literally drops when he sees her pull white coveralls out of the duffle bag, put them on over her clothes and switch off the lights in the apartment, completely blocking Jungkook’s view.

“Fuck, what’s she doing now, Taehyung?” He asked quickly, knowing that the scope on his sniper had night vision.

“She’s...cleaning the apartment...and the body.”

So she’s done this before, Jungkook thought pensively.

“Do you recognize her?” He uttered, needing to know more about this woman immediately.

“Hell no, I would remember this bitch.” The gunman responds instantly.

“What the fuck is going on?” His boss muttered to himself and Taehyung took the liberty of answering him.

“She’s leaving.”

Jungkook cocked his head back in surprise. “Well that was fast.”

“You’re telling me...she’s making her way to the street. You want us to go after her?”

He thinks about it. No harm done, he figured.

“No, leave her be. Less mess for us.”

“Roger that.” Taehyung nodded and packed his things. Jungkook ordered his driver to take him home and they called it a very eventful day.

What Jungkook didn’t count on was encountering that same perpetrator again...and again. Ever since he came across this deadly woman the first time, it’s like he can’t escape her now. “The Hooker”, as the mafia were calling her, had killed three more of the names on their hit list of people who had crossed them...directly before Jungkook’s men got the chance to do it themselves.

And the fact that it didn’t affect the gang took a backseat to the amount of irritation it brought them and Jungkook for their victim to drop dead in front of them at the hands of someone else. It angered Jungkook because he didn’t know who she was or her motives. She was obviously dangerous and stealthy and could be coming for them next for all they knew. He knew he had to catch her and find out what she was about.

“Alright, guys. You know what to do.” Jungkook huffed to his men through his earpiece as they prepared to ambush a traitor of the gang. He had been on the run recently, selling mafia secrets and tonight the gang would put an end to him and soon, everyone he blabbed to.

After three days of following leads, they took to tracking and set out after him. Jungkook and his members followed the conspirator from a distance and three different sides in an attempt to corner him in the ominous dark of the night. They were closing in on the ex-gang member consistently and it all seemed to come to fruition when he shuffled into a dark alley.

This is too easy, the mafia boss thought enthusiastically to himself. Jungkook and six of his men sped up in pursuit, hoping to trap the imbecile before he realized he was a dead end. Finally, the group turned into the alley quickly, expecting to find a young man ready to shit his pants. Instead they found his slumped over corpse that had been propped up against a dumpster.

Jungkook’s spine straightened in astonishment. They literally just saw him walk into the alley and he just drops dead? Each of the men look around for who could have done this in possibly two minutes flat. The leader draws his gaze to the roof directly in front of him and grinds his teeth in anger at the sight in front of him. The Hooker from weeks ago stood above them with an amused smirk on her face in a black, hooded catsuit.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” He roared.

“Would you clean that up for me? Thanks.” She deflected playfully and took off in the opposite direction, jumping from one rooftop to another.

“Get her.” Jungkook said calmly, still looking at the spot where the woman was previously standing. He’s had enough of this nonsense and he would be getting answers.

The gang moves out immediately, splitting up in search of the murderer. Two of them take the firescape closest to them, while the remaining men circle around the buildings to cut her off eventually. In the meantime, Jungkook calms himself down and examines the body.

“How did she even do this?” He pulled a leather glove from his breast pocket and moved the head of the deceased to the right side, looking him over carefully. He promptly noticed bruising around his neck and blood on the crown of his head.

“She choked you out that fast...without making a sound?” He whispered, completely impressed, but absolutely irritated at the same time. He sighed, at a loss and took it upon himself to actually dispose of the body. He waited in the alley with his arms crossed, thinking of how he wanted to interrogate this possible threat.

His men communicated to him that the woman had seriously injured Jimin and Suga and that Hoseok and Jin would stay with them, but the good news was that they caught her and were on their way back.

“Wonderful.” He sighed sarcastically into his earpiece.

After thirty long minutes, Namjoon and Taehyung re-entered the alley, this time carrying their new victim by her arms, her hands restrained behind her back with the rope originally meant for the traitor. She struggled against their hold as they made their way in until she laid eyes on Jungkook.

She straightened slowly and walked with confidence, studying him thoughtfully as they passed the mafia leader and turned her to face him while forcing her to her knees. She winced slightly as her knee caps came in contact with the hard, wet ground.

The three of them watched carefully as the leader paced back and forth leisurely, his gaze focused on the puddles on the ground with his hand picking at nothing in particular on his lip. His train of thought was disrupted when the voice of the woman echoed through the alley.

“You gonna say something?” She scoffed impatiently. Jungkook turned to her slowly, revealing his dark, disapproving facial expression. He didn’t miss the flash of mischief in her eyes when they finally made eye contact.

“You incopacitated two of my men.” He started, continuing to walk back and forth in front of them with his hands behind his back.

“They were chasing me.” She shrugged.

Jungkook stopped in his tracks at the negligence of her tone. He turned on his heel to face his suspect with a serious face. “Who are you and why do you keep killing my targets?” he demanded, just wanting to get to the point of why they were here. A humored smile broke out across her face.

“Your targets? Someone’s a little full of themselves.” She giggled innocently.

“Tell me and I won’t take a hammer to both your shoulders.” He said smoothly looking deeply into her eyes making sure he got his point across.

Her cocky smirk dissipates but doesn't completely disappear.

“You don’t have a hammer.” she muttered to herself, thinking that the mafia leader couldn’t hear her. He just gave her a pointed look, silently telling her to continue. She licks her lips slowly while holding Jungkook’s stormy gaze.

“I was paid, you asshole.” She muttered.

“By who?”

“No one you and your goons need to worry about.” He sighed and looked up in frustration. “Why?”

The woman shook her head furiously. “Are you daft? It’s my job, obviously.”

Jungkook whipped his head in her direction, his eyes widening slightly and his voice taking on a more agitated tone.

“You disrespect me one more time and I’m gonna slap that smug smirk off your face.” He warned her harshly.

“Promises, promises.” She sang with that self-satisfied grin that he was having mixed feelings about.

With that, Jungkook swifty brought his hand up to backhand the assailant and jumped in her direction, but stopped when his hand was halfway to her face. She didn’t move an inch or even blink. She even narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

He backed away from her, impressed. She may have earned some of Jungkook’s respect that day, but he would never tell a single soul about it. He composed himself, eyeing her carefully. He then enganges her in a more calm conversation.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yes.”

“Does your employer know who I am?”

“I have multiple. Some do.” She shrugs coolly.

“What do they—”

“Look we know you're in charge of the mafia, or whatever, but we don’t care. The people I’ve killed have wronged more than just you and your circus of idiots here and they deserved to die.” She gestured to the two henchmen holding her in place.

“Besides I did you a favor. Several, actually. I’m a blessing in disguise.” She smiled sweetly.

Jungkook shakes his head in disagreement. “You’re a fucking pain in my ass is what you are.”

“Oh, what a pleasure. And how do you figure that?”

“Some mysterious...aggressor taking out a number of important people on the east side. Wouldn’t that alarm you in my position?” He queried with a raised, pierced brow.

“Mysterious? Mr. Jeon, do you find me attractive?” She leans forward and is yanked back in place by the men flanking her. She held a suddenly sultry and intense light behind her eyes directed at Jungkook.

He couldn’t deny her beauty; anything with a pulse would be attracted to her. Seeing her up close, he noticed her many piercings along her ears, on her septum and her left brow, just like his. He could see tattoos peeking out from her sleeves and neckline of her suit and he wondered just how much of her body was covered by tattoos.

He was trying not to let that get in the way of this interrogation and failing miserably with his mind wandering in dangerous directions. It didn’t help that he couldn’t look her in the eye for too long, her gaze was so captivating and somehow held so many emotions that they caused him to lose focus.

He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment before asking, “What is your name?”

“Deathstalker.” Wow, Jungkook thought to himself.

“You wanna tell me your real name?” He offered, nodding at her.

“That’s the only name you're gonna get. And just a heads up, I’m not gonna talk if you torture me.” She says confidently with hooded lids. Is she bored?, the mob boss thought. He began to pace for a few moments, the only sound in the alley coming from his designer shoes squelching against the damp concrete.

“No...no, we’re not gonna hurt you.” Jungkook decided. The two henchmen that were restraining the woman, looked up in shock. Jungkook has injured or killed people for far less than what she’s done in the past hour.

She tilts her head uncomfortably in the hold of the gang members, to get a good look at the mafia leader’s face. She gasps and beams as if she’s had an epiphany.

“You like me.” She settled.

He whips around to face her. “What are you on about?”

“I thought I was gonna have to seduce you to get you off my back, but it seems you already have a soft spot for me.” She deduced with an appeased grin on her face.

Jungkook’s breathing deepened. He thought quickly of what he could do to draw the attention away from the truth of her statement. He didn’t know what it was about her, but she was different from any of the other suspicious characters he’s interrogated. And for some reason he didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t be seen as weak in front of his inferiors.

In a flash, he was directly in front of her, teeth clenched and gripping her face tightly in his strong hand. His fingers pressed roughly into her jaw, her cheeks were forced to scrunch up, obscuring her vision and her mouth was bound to a permanent, painful pout.

“Stop spewing nonsense, I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last woman on earth. You’re too dirty.” He lied gratingly. “I don’t have soft spots for anyone and you would do well to learn that. Come into my sight again and you’ll see what kind of damage I can really do.” He seethed.

“Hot.” Deathstalker replied through forcibly clenched teeth. Jungkook sighed before flimsily releasing her chin, flinging it to the right causing her to wince. Jungkook inwardly did the same at the sight.

“Let her go.” The henchmen do as they are told. “Get out of my sight.” She got up off her knees awkwardly with her bound wrists.

“I’m sure you know how to get rid of that yourself.” Jungkook nodded at the rope around her wrists. She nodded back casually and walked passed Jungkook, brushing up against him as she did so.

“Catch you on the flip side.” She whispered to him before she took off in a run into the night.

Three weeks had passed without a surprise appearance from “Deathstalker” and Jungkook was beginning to think she had actually heeded his warning in the alley. He should be pleased with this fact, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Not only was the thought of her ingrained in his mind, but he was slowly convincing himself that maybe he did appreciate her services even if he wasn’t the one paying for them. His men seem to have gotten lazier with the physical side of organized crime since Jungkook’s encounter with Deathstalker.

Or perhaps with no one to properly clean up the mess left after a hit, he’s noticing just how sloppy they’ve been. Either way, people are talking and names are traveling through the air like pollution; they can’t go on like this.

He and his men have been actively searching for the assassin and any information they could find on her. The leader didn’t disclose his true motives to his foot soldiers for fear of looking weak, but he couldn’t have the feds knocking down the doors of his companies and he was desperate. They succeeded in finding her real name, her past hits and the names of some of her employers, but nothing on where she was hiding or how to contact her.

Jungkook curses himself for not realizing Deathstalker’s worth sooner and tries to calm his rampant mind by chugging his flute of champagne. He looks around, disinterested at the ostentatious group of people at the pompous event he was advised to attend.

As the head of the leading construction company on the east side and since no one suspected his night job, he showed his face in these environments from time to time. This one happens to be an art auction and Jungkook was regretting it by the minute.

He quickly snagged one more flute of champagne before taking his seat in the front row for the auction. Half-way through the auction he considers leaving, he hasn’t raised his number card once as none of the pieces appealed to him. His head began to lull back out of pure boredom before he heard an all-too familiar voice above the noise.

“Two million dollars!” The voice was forthright and attractive, causing every head to turn in it’s direction.

Jungkook didn’t have to look far as the owner of the voice was sitting in the front row as well, roughly twelve seats away. His eyes widened at his suspicions being proven correct. He stares at her for a few moments, taking in her full appearance since meeting her for the first time in the alley.

She traded in the black cat suit for a peach colored cocktail dress that hung off of one shoulder and blinding white pumps. She covered up her tattoos with makeup to Jungkook’s dismay, but still showed off her many piercings and her long wavy hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail. That’s a good look, thought Jungkook who spared her one last glance before settling into his seat and devising a plan for how the rest of the night will go.

The auction finally came to an end and the elites took to day drinking and networking once more. Jungkook blended in with the crowd, but kept a close eye on Deathstalker, waiting to find her away from her companions. He spotted her amongst strangers, nursing a glass of champagne and intently watching the middle aged crooner sing along with the orchestra.

When Marimba Rhythms start to play

Dance with me

Make me sway

Then he pounced.

He positioned himself behind her and leaned in to speak softly into her ear. “What are you doing here?”

She didn’t flinch or even react to his words, as if she knew he was there, and just continued to enjoy the music. She never failed to impress him.

“Well, killing all your targets actually counts for something. I’m spending my hard earned money on some fine art.” She smiled after a moment. Jungkook came to stand next to her instead. He took a swig from his drink, the two of them still not making eye contact. “You know it’s not polite to brag.”

She finally turns to him to show off her expensive outfit. “Does this dress scream humble to you?”

“No, but it does scream desperate.” He took her in, using it as an excuse to check her out. That cat suit didn’t do her legs justice in his opinion, but this ensemble has his approval.

“For what?” She demanded, cocking her head to the side.

“You tell me—”

“You’re full of shit, Jeon.” The assassin sneered and quickly turned to walk away. Jungkook catches her by the bicep at the last second, attempting to make it look playful and desperately trying to avoid any unwanted attention.

“Wait.” He smoothly but firmly pulled her back to him, guiding her left hand to his shoulder and holding onto her right one before leading her in a slow dance towards the dance floor. He told himself he needed a more discreet position to confide his intentions in her ear again.

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close

Sway me more

“I have a proposition for you.”

She glances up at him, sporting narrowed and curious eyes. “Oh? This should be good. Last time you saw me, you threatened to hammer my limbs in.” She swiftly stomped on his foot, with a tight-lipped, spiteful smile.

He groaned and gathered himself with closed eyes before getting down to business. “Drop the attitude Y/L/N.” Jungkook grumbled, causing the assassin to freeze, but he made sure to keep them moving. She switches from her normal playful demeanor to a more formidable version of herself and he is almost alarmed by the switch. She leans closer to him to reach his ear and drops her voice to a grave whisper.

“How did you know my last—”

Jungkook doesn’t back down from her close, menacing form and goes as far as to tease her with a satisfied smirk. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re not the only computer genius in this room okay?”

She only glares off into the distance, clenching her jaw.

“What?” Jungkook revels in the feeling of having the upper hand on her. “My men may not be able to catch you in action, but they do know their way around a file cabinet.” He shares proudly, biting his lip with joy.

Realizing the leverage he had over her, Y/N made the decision to hear him out. “What the fuck do you want?” She spat before Jungkook spun her and dipped her quickly. And though she was angry, she moved with grace and he couldn’t help, but admire her beauty.

Like a flower bending in the breeze

Bend with me, sway with ease

“You.” He smirks, already missing her playful personality and hoping to bring it back out. He smiles wider when he succeeds.

She finally cracks a smile and throws her head back, unable to stop herself from laughing. “That’s funny, I thought you wouldn’t fuck me if I were the last woman on earth.” She threw his line back at him effortlessly.

The mob boss hesitates for a split second. “Okay, your memory is impeccable, I get it, but I’m talking about your services.”

Y/N blinks in bewilderment before forming the words she never thought she would. “You want me to work for you?” He nods evenly.

“I’ve already killed five targets for you, Jeon. What more could you want?” She sputtered, not being able to fathom the request. Jungkook only releases her hand, keeping the other wrapped around her waist and nods to the empty balcony of the ballroom before leading her through it’s floor length glass doors.

“Trust me, I’m well aware. It was insanely fucking annoying,” He said earnestly, making the assassin giggle. His heart seemed to lurch at the sound, but he ignored the pleasant pang in his chest to continue his proposal. “Until I noticed how well you clean up after yourself. Leaving almost no trace of your involvement at the crime scene.”

He released Y/N’s waist carefully close to the door of the balcony, peering into the room to see who might be looking at them. They seemed to have a bit of privacy as of right now.

Y/N tilted her head and raised her eyebrows sincerely. “Are you really shocked that the neanderthals you hired aren’t too keen on cleaning up after themselves?”

“I’m trying to compliment you.” He sighed looking up.

“You’re doing a pretty shit job.” She mumbled. He ignores her complaints and carries on. He tucks his hands into his pants pockets and walks towards her.

“My men haven’t been as stealthy as possible as of late and there’s talk that we may have caught the attention of the authorities.”

“Again, are you surprised?” She overannunicated sassily with her arms crossed.

He marched up to her, towering over her small frame intimidatingly. “Don’t push it, Deathstalker.” He sneered at her. Her snark was beginning to piss him off. Why was he always so hot and cold with her?

“Or what?” She said seductively, suddenly snaking her arm around his torso and pressing herself against him. She gazed up at him, with flirtatious eyes

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek, gazing back down at the woman coolly. He considers feeding into her words and actions for a second, but figures it’s probably just one of her games so he tosses the idea. “I’m trying to make you an offer here.” He insisted. The mercenary sucks her teeth, lets go and turns to walk away. “Ugh you’re no fun...You couldn’t handle me anyway.”

The one time he tried to be professional. He pulls her back by the arm, forcefully pressing her into the stone wall next to the door of the balcony. He presses himself against her firmly while gripping her small waist with one hand and her chin with the other.

"Fine,” He challenged. “Is this what you want? You want me to fuck you right here, up against this wall, like a little slut?" He spoke in a low voice so as not to concern the guests inside and the rumble of Jungkook’s voice in his chest made Y/N’s body start to heat up.

His offer brings a genuine, delighted smile to her face. She tosses the idea around in her head while making heated eye contact with Jungkook. But that would never work, she thought bitterly. Her date would come looking for her soon. Not a good look when you're trying to bag a guy and rob him for his millions. So she decided to tease him instead, It was the perfect opportunity with him being all riled up like this.

"I knew you liked me…” She let her sultry yet snide words linger, toying with the fabric of his collar. “But that would be unprofessional, Mr. Jeon...seeing as you are now my boss." she uttered softly, still keeping her seductive gaze. Jungkook briefly wonders if she could feel his dick twitch when she said his name like that before refocusing on the situation.

When we dance you have a way with me

Stay with me, sway with me

He took the sudden change of pace and her choice of words as her officially accepting his offer and released his hold on her with a grimace. She walks by him, smoothing down her dress with an unfazed expression and heads to the railing to take in the view, as if she wasn’t just assaulted by one of the most important men in the country.

“So you’ll do it?”

She kept her back to him, letting her heavy voice travel over her shoulder casually. “How much will you give me?”

He joins her side, resting his hands on the railing. “Eight hundred, thousand.”

She whips her head in his direction, an obviously offended expression on her face. “Do I look like one of your minions?” Y/N inquired.

“It would be your first job with me, you gotta start somewhere.” He made a gesture with his hand, trying to reason with her.

“I started years ago and I’m good at my job. The best actually…I want a million.” She decided with a hand on her waist.

Jungkook blinked repeatedly, taken aback. “You want me to give you a million dollars?”

“Yes, or no deal.” She answered quickly before he could even finish the question. The mafioso took a step back and laughed silently in disbelief.

“You’re infuriating, you know tha—”

“And you make me wanna vomit.”

“You’re projecting.”

“Oh, suck a dick Jeon!” She began marching towards the glass doors into the ballroom before Jungkook caught her by the arm and brought her back to him swiftly.

“Fine, it’s yours.” He muttered, glaring down at her with frustrated eyes.

The woman simply winked playfully at him and caressed his face. “I knew you’d come around.” She beamed looking satisfied and walked away only to be yanked back to Jungkook’s chest yet again. This time she grumbled in slight annoyance. He made a note to let up on the pulling.

“If you cross me, we will kill you.” He said seriously. She only smiled as if he’d made a joke.

“Unless I beat you to that too.” His face turned angry and he opened his mouth to speak when they heard the glass door open and a voice call toY/N.

“Oh, Ruby, there you are. Is this guy bothering you?” An older gentleman in a suit and a gold chain spoke in a scraggly voice. Jungkook recognized him as Walter Schillings, a white collar criminal who has been giving Jungkook’s men a hard time and definitely landed himself on their hitist.

Thankfully, the scum has never actually seen the mafia leader before so they were able to avoid a tricky situation at this crowded event. Though Jungkook had men scattered throughout the building in case anything went down, he never travelled alone. But, wait. Why was he referring to Y/N as Ruby?

The mafia leader had no time to figure it out because he had to explain why he was gripping this innocent looking woman the way he was. He lets go immediately and addresses the man. “We were just having a convers—”

“No,” Y/N sighs and saunters over to Walter, grabbing his huge hand and having it encompass her small one.

What the fuck is this? Jungkook thought, his heart suddenly racing. He tried to hide his emotions behind a cold demeanor.

“Just some loser trying to get my attention.” She glanced back at Jungkook arrogantly, allowing Walter to slide an arm around her waist and kiss the side of her forehead as they re-entered the ballroom.

Jungkook ground his teeth together at the sight and nearly sprinted to Walter to tear his arm off when he saw his hand reach down and grip Y/N’s ass. It bothered him even more that she hadn’t reacted whatsoever.

He turned away and braced himself on the railing again, attempting to calm himself. “I hope she slits your goddamn throat, motherfucker.” He grumbled to himself, seething with anger.

Jungkook spent the next fifteen minutes pouting on the balcony, gripping the railing in anger with a bothersome boner while the rich and famous boozed it up inside. Surprisingly no one had come out to bother him, giving him enough to time think about what he just saw.

He didn’t know why the sight of Y/N with Walter infuriated him so, but he knew he never wanted to see it again. He wondered how she could flirt with him so heavily and then disregard him completely at the drop of a hat. He just wanted to make her eat her petty words, drive her as crazy as she seemed to be driving him.

It didn’t help that he had been having fantasies of her for the past few weeks in that catsuit just letting him have his way with her. And here she comes, looking like sex on legs and clouding his judgement after disappearing for three weeks. Just who does she think she is? Jungkook sighed frustratedly at the pitiful turn his night had taken.

He wished he had a distraction from his thoughts. He wished he could leave this vexatious place, but something was keeping him here and he had a feeling that, that something was a menace in a dress and liked to play mind games.

Okay, so, the boner that won’t seem to go away may also be responsible for keeping him isolated on this balcony, but he had every intention of taking care of it. He just had to convince Y/N.

He quickly tucked his boner into his waistband and walked back into the ballroom like he never left, eyes peeled for Y/N’s small form among the guests. He sees her enter the restroom from afar and doesn’t think before pursuing her.

On any other day Jungkook wouldn’t dream of executing what was going on in his head, but Y/N was admittedly the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen and she caused him to think purely with his dick after their interaction today.

He doesn’t know how he managed to skip into the women’s restroom without setting off any of the guests, but he considers it a victory when he’s in and locks the door without thinking about it. He turned to find Y/N touching up her make-up at the large mirror above the sinks.

They make eye contact through the mirror, but they have yet to exchange words. Y/N narrows her eyes questioningly while Jungkook considers the silence and stillness in the room. So far so good.

Jungkook’s shoes clicked on the tile floor as he took a few steps away from the door. “Where did your date go?” He questioned casually.

Y/N finally pauses touching up her face. “He also went to the bathroom, what are you doing in here?” She answers speedily, watching him intently through the mirror. “We made our deal.”

“I came to see you…” The woman hums in understanding and starts on her lipstick again, seemingly uninterested. “You getting all dolled up for him?” Jungkook finishes.

“Essentially yes.” There is a pause before Jungkook just comes out with it.

“So you gonna sleep with him tonight?”

Deathstalker scoffed. “Of course not. I’m an assassin not a hooker.”

Jungkook muffles a laugh at the inside joke amongst him and his men when his new ally finally starts to show some interest. “Why do you care anyway?”

He walks up to her boldly, gripping her waist and pressing against her from behind causing her to put the make-up down and zero in on his face. She continued to watch his eyes when he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“I just wonder what he would say if I messed up this pretty little face.” He brings his hand up to gently grip her chin, unlike how he did earlier. She smiles slightly, making no attempt to free herself from his grasp. If anything she leans more into his touch.

“Mr. Jeon.” She drawled. “Are you still threatening me?” She bats her eyelashes coyly, knowing exactly what was going on. Jungkook has no idea why that innocent look and the words ‘Mr. Jeon’ falling from her mouth made him hard, but he continually needed more of it. He shuddered lightly at the name and her sweet, sweet voice, barely managing to keep his cool.

“Not in the painful way...unless you like that.” He rasped, brushing her lip with his thumb tenderly. She held back a moan and Jungkook took that as an invitation to take it a step further.

“Do you want me?” He breathed deeply in her ear, sending chills down her spine.

She licked her lips and smiled her signature seductive smile. Jungkook was no match for both her smile and her beautiful doe-eyes. “Oh, Mr. Jeon, you know my pride won’t let me answer that.”

“Cut the games Y/L/N. I’ve had enough of your shit today. Do you want me?” He repeats. He fully pressed his body into hers allowing her to feel the need that he had been accumulating out on the balcony, his breathing getting heavier. She returned the gesture, pushing back against him discreetly.

“I thought we agreed that you would just be my boss.” She said with wide, naive eyes, though Jungkook knew better.

“Well, then, as your boss I hope you would do as I ask and let me fuck you on this sink.” He let his fingers travel from her chin to her throat and let them wrap around her neck ever so gently, giving her just a taste of what was to come. He felt her swallow thickly and watched the innocent look in her eyes turn to primal lust. “So? You wanna see if I can handle you or not?” He whispered, touching his lips to her ear.

She shivered at the touch and quickly turned around to face him. Jungkook leaned in and they were nose to nose. She wrapped her arms around his neck, but their lips barely brushed when she backed away suddenly. He looked into her stern eyes confusedly. “This means nothing.” She said, making sure they were both on the same page. “I’m aware.” he responded before they both pounced at each other, teeth clacking and tongues swirling.

Y/N moaned in delight when Jungkook gripped the back of her thighs and sat her on the granite sink counter with a quickness. He forced her skirt up to her hips roughly so he could properly grind his crotch against her and she seemed to enjoy the rough handling. He made a note of that.

His hands were everywhere on her, massaging her breasts, squeezing her hips and ass, eager to finally be living his most recent fantasies. Y/N revelled in the attention with a smile on her face, hands playing freely in his silky hair whilst he kissed along her neck.

He quickly reached down between Y/N’s legs to find that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. He leans back and their heated gazes meet. “You dirty little slut.” He noted, gruffly. “You like it.” She confidently reassured him. “You’re damn right, I like it.” He mumbled as he attached his lips firmly to hers and applied pressure, rubbing her swollen clit with his fingers. “...Mmm, God, you’re so wet.”

The assassin’s body jerked several times and she moaned into his mouth, grinding further into his touch. She separated from him when she couldn’t take anymore and stared deeply into his eyes. “Please,” she pauses to catch her breath. “Please fuck me, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook unzipped his pants before she could even finish her sentence, preparing a condom that he is thanking God he brought with him today. “I like when you say my name like that.” He whispered against her ear.

“I know, your dick told me. Now, hurry before someone breaks the door down.” Jungkook then slides into her easily. Y/N sighs in ecstasy while Jungkook is stunned into silence at the way she gripped his dick. He starts to move almost immediately, holding her in place as he snaps his hips into her, their lips sloppily tangled all the while. The sound of their moans began to bounce off of the tile walls of the bathroom, both of them throwing any cares they had for being discreet out the window.

Jungkook grunted with excitement and pleasure at the sight in front of him. He was watching her moaning form closely, memorizing every detail of her incase he never got this chance again.

“Fuck yes. Your dick feels so fucking good inside me.” She panted, focused on his wide, intense eyes. “Just keep fucking me like that, Mr. Jeon.” He released a satisfied growl at the name.

Even though he had only met her weeks ago, Jungkook never would have guessed that Y/N would be the type to beg for anything. But here she was under him, at his mercy just like in his dreams, begging for him. It occurred to him that the Deathstalker he met would never admit to or do any of this, but Y/N seemed to be living for it. The idea excited him so much that he didn’t know up from down and didn’t bother to control any nonsense that spewed from his mouth in response to her.

“You look like a dirty little slut under me right now. Letting me fuck you in the bathroom while your date’s probably outside waiting or you.” He whispered harshly in her ear, never letting up as he continues to thrust in and out of her swiftly.

Y/N threw her head back and moaned, feeling nothing but turned on by his comments. “Oh, fuck yes..” She murmured, letting herself be carried away with pleasure.

“Not wearing any panties for him, letting him touch all over you, ugh...but I’m the one who gets to have this sweet pussy by the end of the night.” He breathed heavily, not taking his eyes off of Y/N’s face that was contorted in pure bliss. “Flirting with both of us all night long, making us want you. You’re such a bad girl.”

“I am, I’m a bad girl.” She whimpered hurriedly. “I need to be punished, Mr. Jeon.” She finished, her words not completely registering in her drunken state, but they resonated with Jungkook all too well. He forced himself to slow his thrusts considerably and focus on his breathing much to Y/N’s dismay.

She leans back into him and rests her forehead on his, running her fingers through his hair and grinding on him desperately. “No, no, no, no, no, no. Why did you stop?” Her low, lusty voice implored.

Jungkook chuckles lightly. “You’re gonna make me cum sweetheart.” She pulled his hips into her helping him find a new rhythm. “Then by all means, do, Mr. Jeon. I want you to cum inside me.” She purred before kissing him softly.

That set something off in him causing him to pound into her once more. Y/N was thrown back by the force, unable to hold her upper body up any longer. She rested her elbows on the counter and tilted her head all the way back while Jungkook thrusted away into her.

He saw her face in the mirror and appreciated that he got the watch the pleasure they were experiencing together until he noticed her eyes were closed.

He realised he didn’t wanna cum this way. He pulled out of her, ignoring her cries of disapproval, turned her around and roughly bent her over the counter.

“Oh, baby, you gotta see this.” He rasped before sliding into her again and instantly started fucking into her wildly. Y/N yelped before biting her knuckle in order to keep quiet. “Oh my god, yes, fuck me!”

Jungkook grabbed her ponytail and dragged her up off the counter and into his chest so that he could whisper in her ear. She winced, but let him wrap her hair around his fist and pull harder, the back of her head totally resting on his shoulder.

She could see him behind her, relentlessly hammering into her greedy body in all his glory. Maybe she misjudged him. The sight turned her on even more, sending another rush of wetness between her thighs.

“You’d better keep it down princess. Wouldn’t want your date to think his girl was in here getting railed like a slut. Oh, wait.” Y/N wanted to laugh, but Jungkook released her hip to wrap his large hand around the base of her neck and firmly squeezed.

Her eyes immediately rolled back at the gesture, but she made sure to refocus on the mirror as Jungkook was watching closely. The pressure was building in her core more and more. She was gonna fall over the edge any second now, she was so close.

“Oh m-ffffuck, yes! You’re gonna make me cum, Mr. Jeon.” She whined through clenched teeth, looking into his piercing eyes through the mirror.

“Then fucking cum for me.” His deep voice grated in her ear.

“Harder! Choke me harder!” Y/N pleaded as her orgasm crashed right into her. He squeezed tighter at just the right time and with just the right pressure that had Y/N seeing stars and prolonging her high. Jungkook held off his own orgasm, trying not to think about her velvety walls pulsating around him, so that he could watch Y/N fully enjoy hers. And boy was it something to watch.

Her jaw dropped and stilled as her eyes rolled into her head, but it was the most beautiful thing Jungkook had ever seen. Her body was frozen in a perfect arch as he thrusted away into her and her hand firmly cradled his head so that their cheeks were pressed together. He would hold out for as long as he could as she rode her high completely if only to watch her like this for a little longer.

Eventually she tapped Jungkook's hand causing him to let go of her neck and she collapsed onto the counter breathlessly. “Holy fuck.” She gasped as she braced herself on the granite surface.

She coughed a bit and caught her breath and then looked up at Jungkook with fucked out, voracious eyes. He never took his eyes off of her and never stopped pumping his dick into her delicious cunt.

“You gonna cum for your little cock slut, Mr. Jeon?” Y/N croaked, throat sore from being choked. But every word sounded like music to Jungkook’s ears. That look on her face made him wanna blow his load on the spot. “Yeah, baby.” Is all he can offer as his hips break their rhythm without his permission.

“Please, cum inside me.” She moaned out as Jungkook emptied himself into the condom, hips sputtering near the end until they stopped with his dick still deep inside of her. He was in his own head, lost in a post-coital stupor, thinking about how that may have been the best orgasm he’s ever had when Y/N spoke up.

“You can get out of me now.” She said flatly, thrusting Jungkook back into the real world. He murmured an apology and withdrew himself from her, watching her walk casually into one of the stalls without a word or a look in his direction.

He just stood there with his cock out wondering what the hell just happened. He thought they made a connection. He agreed that it wouldn’t mean anything, but was she really that cold hearted to just ignore him after a passionate experience like that? Well, she is a mercenary, his conscience defended, they’re not meant to be caring.

As he heard the stall start to open up he quickly turned around, discarded the condom and tucked himself back into his pants. He then watched as she came back out looking more put together than before.

She washed her hands and began to touch up her appearance again. This time she actually needed it. The foundation on her neck was rubbed off by his fingers, revealing the tattoos that Jungkook missed, her lipstick was smeared and her high ponytail drooped due to the pulling. Awkward silence took over the spacious restroom. Is she really not going to say anything?

He decided to just come out with it. “What was that?”

“What are you talking about?” She requested, haphazardly while fixing her hair in the mirror.

“Well, you were just all over me and now you’re acting like I don’t exist.” He said plainly.

“It’s called sex, you don’t fuck like a virgin so I assume you know what I’m talking about. Besides, I’m not acting like anything.” Jungkook had a hard time believing that. He knew what deflecting looked like, had seen it in many interrogations.

“Then why won't you look at me?” He challenged.

Her eyes widened in annoyance as she reached around to place another bobby pin in her hair. “I’m kinda busy here, Jeon.”

He couldn’t help, but feel bothered that she dropped the sassy formality of calling him Mr., an indication that she was enjoying his company. “Look, will you just talk to me for a sec—”

She suddenly stops what she’s doing. Her breathing is long and deep before she calms down and begins speaking smoothly with her eyes closed. “Look, Jeon. We don’t know each other and I don't know what you think you know about me or what you made up in your head, but you might as well forget all of that ‘cause it’s not real.” She sighed, continuing to recover her foundation.

“That wasn’t real?” He finally commanded. He hated to admit it, but he was slightly bothered when she didn’t even offer him a glance. “That?” She responded, only interested in her reflection.

“That,” He clarified, gesturing to the counter sternly. “What we just did, what we...said.” He gulped nervously. This wasn’t like him, he didn’t get nervous or have passionate sex with strangers and let it effect him. This is only his second time meeting this woman and he let her get in his head. He’s been asking himself the same question since meeting her in the alley: what makes her so different?

She put down her foundation and just stared at it blankly. “And what part of what we said are you confused about, pray tell.”

“Um, ‘I need to be punished, Mr. Jeon.’” He quoted promptly.

Honestly the only thing he was confused about was why she was suddenly being so cold to him. All of the words they shared were noteworthy and he wanted her to acknowledge that. The whole experience still shocked Jungkook and he never dreamed it would actually happen. He just brought up a snippet that he thought might get her attention and maybe evoke some emotion finally. He chose wisely.

Her head whipped in his direction. “And you liked it, didn’t you?” She sneered. “Or perhaps we could talk about how you like to call women, sluts, hm?”

“I thought you liked it,” He tried to get in, but she wasn’t having it.

Jungkook thought her angry face looked nothing like it did five minutes ago or even out on the balcony. She suddenly let out a bitter laugh and Jungkook realized that this woman probably wears many faces. Perhaps to defend herself. Perhaps to survive. Maybe he misjudged her.

“You know, I didn’t take you for a person who throws things that people say during sex back in their face.” She accused, sporting a dark smile.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I didn’t take you for a...a—”

“A submissive?” She shot, putting an end to his stuttering. He deflated, all signs of anger or disapproval gone from his stance. “Yes.” He copped out, not knowing what else to say. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Y/N visibly calmed down as well, turning back to the mirror and continuing her work. “Are you surprised?” She muttered, raising her eyebrows.

Jungkook thought for a second before responding, evenly: “No.” Thinking about how much Y/N might have gone through to be so successful as a trained killer, she must have had to be the strongest and smartest person in the room on any given day. There had to be a time where she wanted to take a break, not be the person in charge for once. Jungkook could relate.

His response made her pause, but she only cleared her throat and continued applying foundation in silence. I can’t leave things like this, Jungkook decided. He just got an actual glimpse into her personality and not the same act she puts on for the rest of the world. He found out that they might even have some things in common. He didn’t want her to shut him out now. It may have been a moment of weakness for both of them, but he wanted to continue this.

“I could, you know, help...punish you, i-if you want.” He spluttered with his hands in his pockets, trying to make himself look as confident as possible since his voice had already betrayed him.

Y/N stills and turns to him with a confounded expression, but didn’t say anything.

“I mean, unless you already have a…” Jungkook left out the last word for her to hopefully pick up on, suddenly shy about the world of BDSM.

“No, I don’t.” She rushed out, looking down at the counter and creating an awkward silence between them. “I’ll think about it.” She added genuinely. She looked at him over her shoulder and offered a gentle nod, her expression completely blank.

Jungkook nods back in acknowledgement. “Okay, then.”

“Now get out of here, I’m sure there are ladies that need this restroom.” She pulled on her signature playful smirk, nearly giving Jungkook whiplash. Many faces indeed.

“Yeah, okay.” He gathered himself and walked towards the door, but turned back when he realized something. “Wait, how do I contact you for the job?”

“I’ll call you, now go.” She said packing up her stuff.

Jungkook nodded, unlocked the door and quickly darted out of the bathroom. As he sped by he saw Walter down the hall posted in front of the men’s room patiently waiting for his date. Thankfully his head was turned when Jungkook made his way out of there and to the exit. He smirked wickedly, knowing he got away with his ridiculous plan. “Dumbass.”

Two weeks had gone by since the bathroom incident and Jungkook worked tirelessly to distract himself from thoughts of the beautiful assassin to no avail. He realized there was no escaping her. He thought their rendezvous at the auction would help get her out of his system, but it only fueled his addiction for her and now he was trapped in a vicious cycle that he didn’t know if he wanted out of.

They kept in contact and Deathstalker killed the enemies on Jungkook’s hit list, but this time she was being paid by the mafioso himself unbeknownst to his men. They found themselves in situations much like the first time they ran into Deathstalker more often than not. Only now she had to be more creative as Jungkook’s foot soldiers still thought she was a possible threat.

As Jungkook sat across from Collin Boardly, a corrupt CEO/gang leader, he wondered if this would be one of those situations. Boardly is a fellow criminal that Jungkook was on good terms with until he heard that Boardly’s men have been attacking and blackmailing store owners in his territory. Jungkook insisted that he pay those victims back and restore all damages. He even invited Mr. Boardly to a very private game of poker so that they could properly discuss matters.

They sat in the dimly lit restaurant owned by one of Jungkook’s close friends with their respective security surrounding them. Boardly felt obligated to bring his men as he offended Jungkook and now he was on his turf. Jungkook’s men insisted on backing him up, but he had a strong feeling that none of that would be necessary.

They had already made small talk while getting the game started and Jungkook got straight to business.

“So, I hear you’ve been terrorizing my streets. What’s the story there?” Jungkook inquired calmly. Boardly huffed a nervous laugh at the mention of what his men did. “Personally I think terrorizing might be too strong a word.”

Jungkook’s brows raised and his expression turned serious. “Well, what would you call threatening multiple lives at gunpoint, roughin’ ‘em up and demanding cuts of their earnings then? Business?” He denounced.

“As usual.” Boardly finished the adage with a large smile. Jungkook only looked at him with the same no nonsense expression and Boardly seemed to regret making the remark.

“Just a joke, Jungkook.” He muttered. “I am sorry that I allowed my guys to do that.” He doubled down. “We simply didn’t know how far your territory reached. We meant no disrespect.”

“I appreciate that.” Jungkook replied, anger stirring inside him as he fought not to rip this man’s head from his shoulders.They continued to play in near silence until Jungkook finally pressed him for answers.

“So how do you intend to fix what your guys broke?”

Boardly looked up with a lost expression on his face. “Excuse me?” He grumbled.

“There was damage done to these stores, yes?” Jungkook assessed slowly. “And you’ve already collected cuts from some of the owners…” He can see Boardly’s eyes widen slightly in recognition.

“Oh, you didn’t know I knew that.” The mob boss gathered. “Anyway, I assume you’re ready to pay for that. I was thinking fifty, thousand dollars would cover it.” He suggested calmly.

Boardly tried to give an excuse, stuttering. “I’m-I don't think you understand—”

“I understood you can afford it, judging by those chips.” Jungkook chided, gesturing to the large bet Boardly made in the center of the poker table. Boardly sighed at a loss.

“Kook, listen.” The CEO leaned forward, trying to reason with his opponent. “We’re friends. It was an accident, can’t we just forget this happened?”

“No.” Jungkook responded instantly, his arms crossed. “We were...associates, but now you’re just someone who fucked with my community. So are you gonna pay it back or not?” He seethed furiously.

Boardly swallowed and stared at Jungkook for a few moments, wondering how else to bargain with him. He had too much pride to go through with this deal, especially in front of his inferiors.

“No.” He finally answered.

Jungkook sighed disappointedly. The air in the room turned ominous and it was felt by all. Normally, Jungkook would be killing Boardly by now and he could feel all of his men tense behind him, ready to kill if need be, but he was doing things differently today. He just nodded understandingly, before gesturing with his left hand to get Taehyung’s attention.

“Taehyung. Will you get me a glass of water from the kitchen please?” He asked politely without looking at him. He hears his right hand man head to the kitchen and he turns back to the piece of shit in front of him.

“Why, Collin? Is there something wrong with doing right by those you fucked over?” Jungkook questioned, heatedly.

“No, Kook—”

“Don’t call me that.”

Boardly scoffed and continued. “I just don’t think we did anything wrong. We overstepped, we apologized, I think that should be enough.”

“Well, I don’t. So where does that leave us?”

“I’m not paying for shit.” The CEO shrugged. That really pissed Jungkook off.

“Go to hell, Boardly.” He growled. I’m really gonna enjoy watching you bite it, Jungkook thought sinisterly.

Taehyung placed the glass of water in front of his boss and made the decision to continue to stand at his side, ready if anything were to happen.

“Fine.” Boardly responded bitterly. “So are we done here? Or are you gonna give me a hard time?” He asked, nodding at Taehyung for emphasis. Jungkook shook his head nonchalantly. “No, no. We’re done.” with a haunting smirk on his face. The look put Boardly slightly on edge, but he ignored it and stood up to corral his men.

Jungkook watched him make his way to the door wondering what the fuck was taking so long? He already gave the signal. He started to reach for his own gun to do it himself when he noticed Boardly stop in his tracks and could hear him choking.

Even Jungkook and his men wore looks of concern. The mafia leader got up to get a better view from where he stood and the others craned their necks behind him still ready to shoot first and ask questions later.

Boardly’s men tried to help him as he clutched his throat, but it was no use as he convulsed and fell to the floor before ceasing to move altogether. They looked at each other for answers before turning to Jungkook.

One of the guys who was wearing a blue suit, which Jungkook assumed to be Boardly’s right hand, pulled out a gun and walked towards him. Taehyung and Jungkook pulled theirs as well, causing everyone with a gun to point them at either side.

“You do this?!” Boardly’s guy raged. “How?” Jungkook argued. “How would I do that to him? He probably had a heart attack or forgot to breathe or some shit.” He surmised, trying to place the blame elsewhere.

“Bullshit! What did you do?” He demanded.

“Look, I’m sorry for your loss or whatever, but we had nothing to do with this. Now you all gotta do something with him.” He pointed his gun at the dead body briefly. Blue suit breathes heavily with a stumped expression, not wanting to let it go. No one in the room showing any signs of letting up either.

“How about we all put the guns down and you guys can take him home-or wherever. Yeah? Does that work?” Jungkook prompted gently. After a beat, blue suit nodded, looked back at the rest of Boardly’s men and nodded. Jungkook did the same and slowly, but surely the guns came down and were put away.

Jungkook and his men watched as they dragged the body out of the restaurant and sped away from the large storefront windows. They’re finally able to breathe without stress. “What the fuck was that?” Namjoon blurted causing the rest of them to chuckle.

“I don’t know, but I’m getting the fuck outta here before they come back. See you guys back at base.” They laughed and said their goodbyes. Jungkook walked in the light rain to the next block over and found his town car ready and waiting for him.

He opened the passenger door, addressed his driver, then retrieved a large black duffle bag before opening the backdoor. There he found Deathstalker sitting cross legged in a black trench coat at the other window seat. He smiled fondly at her. She looked beautiful as always gazing out the window at the rain before she noticed him there. When she turned to face him he replaced the fond smile with a composed smirk.

“Took you long enough.” She opined quietly once he sat down and closed the door. “We got held up, literally. I think this belongs to you.” He passed the duffle bag off to her. She received her present graciously, beaming down at the contents happily once she opened it.

“Thank you Mr. Jeon.” Y/N crooned playfully, sporting that signature smirk that never failed to affect Jungkook. “No, thank you.” He responded after clearing his throat. “So you poisoned him?”

She simply replied, “Yup.” while inspecting the cash that filled the duffle bag in her lap.

“But he randomly started choking and shaking. And you say you controlled it with the push of a button?” He wondered with furrowed brows and pouted lips.

“Well, poison, a small nanobot that I planted in his food to attack his lungs and cause internal bleeding, it’s all the same, you know.” She spoke aimlessly, moving on from the money to buff and inspect her manicure.

“Wow.” Jungkook whispered, genuinely infatuated with the thought of that kind of technology and how he could get his hands on it. While he was lost in thought he didn’t notice Y/N scooching closer to him until they were side by side. He turned to find their noses were nearly touching and his heart rate sped up rapidly.

“Now that, that’s over…” she drawled, grasping Jungkook’s hand. He watched unquestionably as she brought his hand to her mouth and inserted his middle and ring fingers all while looking into his eyes alluringly. At the same time, she easily brought her leg up to drape over both of Jungkook’s. He still sat frozen in place by her gaze while she lifted the bottom of her coat and placed his hand against her bare heat.

They both shuddered slightly when Jungkook instinctively began to rub circles into her already wet core, never taking their eyes off each other.

“You wanna go somewhere?” She coaxed breathily. It almost infuriated Jungkook how she didn’t even have to try to get him to agree to anything. He was indeed trapped.

“James,” He called up to the driver. “The Plaza Hotel please.”

Currently, Jungkook was going through paperwork in his office, taking advantage of the slow week he’s had to take care of some business for his company. It’s been a while since he’s gotten to do this so he was pretty backed up and seemingly had a whole afternoon of this to look forward to. He sighed at the thought, but continued to read through the documents and sign them here and there when suddenly he felt something was...off. He put his pen down and looked around the room.

The room was silent as usual, but all of a sudden it was too silent? Jungkook didn’t know how and he couldn’t really make sense of it until he looked up at the ceiling vent. It was no longer producing the usual soft hum. There was nothing. He silently walked under the vent to inspect it when he saw a glint in between the slats. Immediately, he moved from under it and drew his gun, aiming it at the vent.

“I see you motherfucker! Come out right now or I’ll put ten holes in you!” He shouted. The intruder heeded the warning and right away the vent was forced to the floor. Jungkook watched intently as two feminine hands holding a gun slowly dropped down and though it was upside down, it was perfectly aimed at him.

He still had his gun trained on the vent as the trespasser entered through the hole in the ceiling to reveal the familiar face of Deathstalker herself. Only her upper body could be seen as her strong legs held her in place from inside the vent.

She smiled easily at Jungkook as if they weren’t in a stand-off right now. “Hello, Mr. Jeon.” Her tone was calm, but somewhat guarded, telling him what her face never would. Jungkook was stuck between being relieved to see that it was only Deathstalker and being concerned that she was pointing a gun at him.

“Hello, Deathstalker. You wanna tell me why you broke into my office and have a gun in my face?” He queried with a tilt of his head. Y/N only reached up to grip the hole in the ceiling, somehow removing herself from the vent with one hand, her gun and her gaze still trained on Jungkook as she landed on her feet in front of him. More contradicting thoughts swirled in his mind at the sight.

“You finally caught me. I’m proud.” She smirked, removing the hood of her catsuit from her head.

He fights the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, maybe you can congratulate me later. Why are you here? You finally turn on me? Did someone send you, huh?”

“Don’t be so dramatic. You have something I need.” She explained with a determined look. Jungkook’s brows furrowed. “Is that so? And what might that be?”

“You know what it is.” Y/N quipped, tilting her gun along with the inflection in her voice. He shakes his head assuredly. “No, No, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you wanna put the gun down I’d love to discuss it.” He entreated informally.

“No.” She spoke firmly. A beat of silence passes before Jungkook has had enough. “Put the fucking gun down, Y/L/N.” He demanded gruffly.

“You put the fucking gun down.” She spat right back at him.

“I’m not doing this, just tell me what it is—” He reasoned.

“You know what it is—” Before she can fully respond, Jungkook rushed her, forcing her gun away from him and ripping it out of her hand. He quickly backed up and flung the gun across the room before pointing his back at her. They each caught their breath and Y/N bit her lip frustratedly.

Jungkook gave a triumphant smile. “There, that’s better. You ready to talk now—”

Y/N’s leg swiftly came up to kick the gun right out of Jungkook's hand before he even realized what happened. He looked at the gun sliding away from them on the floor, then back at Deathstalker, who smirked and raised an arrogant brow.

“Okay.” Jungkook uttered right as Y/N charged at him. He panicked slightly at the thought of fighting her, but the instinct to fight back kicked in when she launched herself and wrapped her body around him like an anaconda.

They struggled while Deathstalker tried to take Jungkook to the floor. Luckily for him, he wasn’t only a skilled shooter, but a trained and very skilled fighter as well. It wasn’t long before he freed himself from her vice grip and they were in a standoff once again, this time with their fist raised and ready to defend.

“What the hell has gotten into you Y/L/N? I wish you would tell me what this is about.” Jungkook grumbled as they circled each other, waiting for the other to make a move.

Y/N chuckled mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Yes, actually!” He exploded. She took his emotional outburst as an opportunity and pounced once again. Jungkook was quicker to react this time and they were practically sparring in the middle of his office and only lord knows why. Jungkook found himself getting irritated because he was barely one step behind Deathstalker in her strikes and attacks.

As they got more invested, Jungkook noticed that she didn’t intend on hurting him, but she did intend to win. Somewhere in the scuffle, he fell behind and let her right hook distract him from the leg that swept his feet from under him. She was on top of him in an instant, with a habitual flat hand at his jugular ready to stop him from breathing. They stare at each other, both of them breathing heavily.

“Got you.” Y/N suddenly whispered smugly. “Now, are you gonna give me what I want?” She prompted provocatively, sliding her hand into the collar of his shirt slowly. The feel of her hot skin on his almost burned with their charged up bodies and wild emotions. He blinked in realization at her increasingly turned on form above him.

“You. Crazy. Fucking. Bitch.” Jungkook fumed quietly, looking up at her in disapproval. She just giggled freely and though usually the sound would bring a smile to Jungkook’s face, it only pissed him off.

He pushed her off of him and shoved her against the wall roughly, holding her there by the neck. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, breaking in here and waving a gun in my face.” He hissed in anger, their noses touching. “You know, if you wanted dick you could have just said so.”

“Where’s the fun in that Mr. Jeon?” She crooned, leaning forward to kiss him and he denied her, coolly tilting his head back. He continued to hold her by the throat to the wall firmly, causing her to choke briefly, but if she was uncomfortable she didn’t let it show.

“No.” He shook his head, Y/N could see his gears turning as he did so. “No?” She echoed, curiously.

“To answer your question. I’m not giving you what you want.” A devious smirk slowly appeared on his face that made Y/N’s body temperature rise. “No, you’re gonna do what I want now and you’re gonna like it.” He breathed, pressing himself against her and brushing her lips with his teasingly. She inhales audibly, trying not to look affected by his sudden behavior.

“But, Mr. Jeon, I want what you want.” She encouraged him sweetly, reaching for him. He put a stop to that quickly by pinning her wrists above her with one hand and resuming his hold on her neck with the other. She grunted and squirmed before giving up, looking up a childish defeated expression, but Jungkook knew she loved it.

He looked into her eyes with a strong dominance that had Y’N swallowing thickly in anticipation. “Are you talking back to me, Y/L/N?” His eyebrows furrowed intimidatingly.

She bit her lip to suppress her giddy smile. She needed to play along and not mock Jungkook’s very real emotions. The dynamic has officially shifted and now Y/N’s main objective was to please him. “No, Mr. Jeon.” She assured in a register slightly higher than her natural voice.

“Really, because you seem to have a lot to say for someone who’s at my mercy. I wonder if you’d still be as talkative with my dick in your mouth.” He growled hotly in her ear sending shivers down her spine.

She shuddered a hopeful response. “Can we find out, Mr. Jeon...please?” She implored when she felt him pull away.

He looked her over, taking in her needy form. “Look at you, already begging for it.” He shook his head in amazement. “I should keep you here and see how long you can hold your breath for me before your face starts to change color.” He whispered while closing his hand tighter around her neck. Y/N hummed delightfully at the feeling, her eyes fluttering shut.

“But you’d probably like that wouldn’t you?” He leaned back in, getting her attention. She opened her eyes and gave a pleasant smile. “You know that I do.” She choked out. He smiled back at her admirably before releasing most of the pressure on her throat.

“No, I got something else planned for y—” He stopped abruptly, looking towards the door because he thought he heard the click of familiar shoes in the hall. His theory was proven correct when he heard them getting closer. He quickly looked to Y/N with wide eyes.

“Get under the desk.” He ordered softly before they both scurry to the huge desk near the window. She easily fit herself under it on her knees facing out and Jungkook took the seat right in front of her. As soon as they were situated, there was a knock on his office door.

“Come in.” He called pretending to look over his files. Taehyung poked his head in with a concerned expression before he fully entered the room. “Hey boss. Everything okay here?” He questioned.

“Yes, fine. Why?”

“Nothing, we just thought we heard some...I don’t know, movement?” As Taehyung spoke, Jungkook could feel hands raking up his thighs and his eyes widened quickly. He tried to compose his expression, but he then felt the unbuttoning of his pants.

No, no, no, no, he thought in a panic. He tries not to focus on just how Y/N got his zipper down as silently as she did and focuses on Taehyung’s lips as he talked.

“Oh, no, yeah. That was just me. I was practicing...sh-shadow boxing.” He lied choppily as Y/N released his already hard dick from his pants.

“In a suit?” Taehyung replied, confusedly.

Jungkook jolted slightly and fought back a moan when the assassin took him in her warm, wet mouth. “Waauuuhh, yes. Yes, I was.” He cleared his throat to cover up more moans when she began to skillfully bob her head up and down on his length.

“Oh, well okay.” Taehyung settled. “So if that’s all—” Jungkook attempted to see him off with no success.

“Anyway, we got a lead on that Deathwalker chick.” He offered in a more chipper tone. Y/N paused her movements, intrigued by the information. What had they found out? Jungkook shamelessly rested his hand on the back of her head and pulled, encouraging her to keep going much to both of their disbelief. She obeys and continues the task eagerly, but careful not to have too much fun or she’ll risk getting caught. “Is that so?” the mob boss replied.

“Yeah, it’s not much, but we assumed you wanted us to brief you on it as soon as possible.” His soldier nodded respectfully.

“Ugh,” Jungkook moaned, half-way masking it as a noise of gratitude. “Thank you, Tae. I appreciate it. We’ll be sure to discuss thisssssss later.” He faltered. “Yes, sir.” Taehyung nodded again, making a face at Jungkook.

“Hey, you okay boss?” He looked closer at his superior with genuine concern. “Never better Tae.” Jungkook forced out quickly. “Are you sure? Y—”

“Taehyung?” The gang leader addressed him firmly. “Yes?”

“Get the fuck out of my office.”

“Yes, sir.” Taehyung nodded, knowing when he was unwanted and without another word he was exiting the office.

Jungkook pushed away from the desk immediately and grabbed a handful of Y/N’s hair as he stood both of them up. She only smiled at the manhandling and wiped the excess spit from her mouth.

“You really want me to hurt you, don’t you?” He snarled at her. She fought back the strong urge to moan a yes and instead just stayed silent with a feigned guilty look on her face. “Take that off. Now. ” He commanded, gesturing to her catsuit. She shimmied it off of her arms and down her legs to reveal her naked body, leaving her heels on, all while Jungkook kept a tight grip on her hair.

“How many do you think I should give you?” He asked, suddenly calmer than before. “How ever many you think is right sir.” She spoke in a small voice, but her innocent act didn’t fool him. He stared at her bare, unapologetically, beautiful body in wonderment before forcing her body to bend over his desk.

He caressed her thighs and backside tenderly and then when she least expected it he delivered a delicious slap to it. Y/N yelped and then sighed with contentment. The wait was over, now the real fun could begin.

“I told you.” Slap. “We weren't.” Slap. “Gonna do.” Slap. “What you wanted.” Slap. “To do.” Slap. “But you just don’t listen.” He accentuated his words with powerful smacks delivered to both of her cheeks and then rubbed at the tender flesh to soothe the sting.

He ran his finger up her spine gently, making her shiver visibly. He smirked at his effect on her, bending his body over hers to whisper in her ear. “Tell me. Are you sorry?” He breathed heavily.

“No, sir.” Y/N panted after a few moments. “I knew it…” He stands up straight, regarding her vulnerable yet durable body.

“You disappoint me, Y/L/N.” He slaps her ass and massages again. Y/N hissed before replying. “I’ll do better sir.” she declared sincerely.

“You promise?” Jungkook lifts his hand and watches as Y/N braces for the impact, watched as her body tensed and her pussy clenched greedily around nothing in awe. He savored the moment, spanking her again.

She hummed graciously at the delicious pain she was receiving from him. “Yes, sir. I promise.”

“But you’re not sorry.” He clarified. “No sir.”

“Why?” His brows furrowed in curiosity, gearing up to spank her again. “Because I love sucking your cock sir.” Y/N whined. He stopped his movements, taken aback and released a soft laugh. “Is that so?”

“Yes sir.” Slap. “Tell me more Y/L/N.” he requested as he moved his left hand to her cunt and kept the right one on her ass.

She closed her eyes and smiled, envisioning herself doing the activity, even licking her lips at the luscious memory of it. “I love how heavy it feels on my tongue. How you force me down on it and it hits the back of my throat.” She mused longingly. Y/N stops speaking and her body tenses as he inserts his thumb into her.

“Keep going Y/L/N.” Jungkook’s tone made it clear that he would stop if she didn’t keep talking so she continued.

“I love how thick it is, oh fuck.” She moans, digging her nails into the wood of the desk as he rubs two fingers against her clit and picks up the pace. “What else Y/L/N?” He breathed.

She gulped in a breath, the sudden pressure taking her breath away. “How you make me gag on it when I’ve been bad and— mmmm, how you coat the inside of my mouth with all your cum when you’re done with me...How you check to make sure I swallowed all of it.” She giggled that last bit breathlessly, grinding back on his hand.

“You’re such a dirty girl Y/L/N.” He moves in and out of her quickly while rubbing her clit perfectly in sync, pulling lewd moans from her until he suddenly removes them, delivering another hard smack to her backside. “Ah, fuck.” She squealed.

“But you’re right, you need to do better. Now count with me.” He ordered sternly.

To which she immediately responded, “Yes sir.”

Y/N counts every hit Jungkook delivers to her extremely tender ass dutifully with her fingernails creating crescents in the mahogany wood below her. By the time they reach twenty, his hand is as red as a tomato and Y/N is quite literally dripping onto the floor in front of him. He watched as her slick dripped out of her cunt from in between her spread legs and onto the floor, creating a tiny puddle of her pleasure.

Jungkook is incredibly turned on by the sight and doesn’t think twice before taking his hard cock and shoving right into the assassin without warning. He didn’t wait for her to adjust, not that she needed to as you could literally mop the floor with her arousal. He just continued to hammer into her with complete abandon.

It felt as if Y/N had forgotten how to breathe and her head shot up from the desk at the abrupt intrusion. “Ohhhhh shhhhhhit.” She cursed choppily with Jungkook’s hips slapping against her, making her ass sting more, but she loved it.

He reached up to push her head down against the desk forcefully and held it there as he fucked into her. “You love the pain don’t you my little cock slut?” He growled out.

“Yes, sir. I love it. Thank you, Mr. Jeon.” She babbled dazedly into the desk.

He pulls out of her then, leaving her moving back in search of him and clenching around nothing. “Please put it back in, Mr. Jeon.” She whimpered, reaching back for him, but she didn’t dare sit up for fear that he might think she was disobeying him.

He smiles and sits down in his chair, grabbing the hands that searched for him and guiding them to it’s arm rests. “Why don’t you come sit down and do it yourself?”

She moves right away and backs up onto him. Bracing herself on the armrests, she hovers above him still facing the desk, grabs his cock and engulfs it in her wetness. They both groan wildly when he is fully seated inside of her and she begins to move up and down.

“Just like that baby, keep bouncing on my cock.” He muttered huskily, placing his hands on her hips. Looking down, he finally noticed the mess Y/N’s juices made on his suit pants. He should have pulled them all the way down, but damn if that wasn’t one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. “Goddamn. Who made you this fucking wet baby?” He grunted, pulling her down on him with fervid force.

“You did, Mr. Jeon.” Y/N breathed heavily with her eyes closed in ecstasy. She could feel her orgasm finally approaching and she was chasing it with every move she made.

“You gonna cum baby?” Jungkook’s voice rasped in her ear. Y/N mentally cursed, already knowing what was coming to her. “Yes, I’m so close, Mr. Jeon.” She whined, trying to plead her case.

It was no use. He swiftly pushed her off of him roughly and forced her down against the table once more. “No, no, no, please, please.” She begged and squirmed.

He only bent down to her level, gripping her chin in his hand. “You should know by now not to fuck with me Y/L/N. Now you need to be punished.” He says whispering sadistically in her ear. “Come on now.”

Jungkook gripped her by her forearms, dragging her up from the table and keeping them in place behind her back like a criminal. He guided her to the expansive wall length bookshelf on the far left of his office. Y/N knew just where they were going and somehow it prompted more wetness to come cascading down her already damp and sticky legs.

He finds the handle on the inside of one of the shelves and pulls on the hidden door to reveal his playroom. The ceiling was a deep red while the walls were painted black with several tools for causing pain hanging on them all around the room. Several large contraptions used for pleasure and pain were scattered along the sides. But Jungkook’s favorite part of the room was the alaska king size mattress against the back wall which had a mirror of the same size attached to the ceiling above it. He loved that he could see every facet of Y/N’s squirming body just by looking up.

“Stand here.” He directs her after stopping under the pair of leather handcuffs that dangled from the ceiling. He lifted and secured both her arms before focusing on her wanton eyes. “You comfortable, sweetheart?” He asked, grasping her chin firmly in his hands.

“Yes, sir.” She replied truthfully. “Good.” He pecked her lips and began removing her boot heels. This created more distance between her and the floor. She was now truly dangling from the ceiling, the balls of her feet barely touching the floor.

Jungkook marvelled at his work and how after a while Y/N struggled to hold her weight against the cuffs. He then undressed quickly and made his way back to her, placing his lips on hers in a rough and passionate kiss that left Y/N breathless and moaning.

She feels a hand thread it’s fingers through her hair and massage her scalp before it’s yanking her back and gripping tightly. She opened her eyes to see Jungkook, lustful and giddy smiling back at her. His hand slipped out of her hair, down her neck, chest and around her torso as he slowly circled her body.

“I wish I could touch every piece of you at once.” He expressed sofly once he was behind her. Y/N breathed heavily with anticipation as his large hands gluided up her raised arms, down her waist, over her hips and ghosted over her plump, raw ass making her hiss. He chuckled at the sound letting his hands wander to her front and administering feather light circles to her swollen clit. Y/N twitched causing her body to sway uncontrollably. Jungkook stilled her, but continued his teasing much to Y/N’s dismay. But she didn’t dare say anything about it, she knew better and she wanted to cum so she stayed silent.

He comes back around to face her and really takes his time appreciating her body. He kisses her lips, along her neck and sucks on her nipples just enough to have her squirming with more want for him. Suddenly he presses down on each of her sensitive nipples with two fingers and she squeaks, painful electricity shooting through her.

He looked her over keenly. “God you’re so fucking beautiful...and you’re all mine to play with.” He kisses her biting her lip. “Who do you belong to?” His fierce tone demanded an answer.

“You, Mr. Jeon.” Y/N avowed, increasingly turned on and desperate to cum.

“Who else?” His hands moved haltingly towards her core, never breaking eye contact. Her eyes flashed knowingly at him. “No one. Only you, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook smiled contentedly before it disappeared little by little. He knew the words weren’t true and that she only said them to please him, only said them when they were intimate. But he couldn’t help how much he yearned to hear it, how much he wanted her to truly be his. This room is where they both get what they want no matter what.

Y/N gets someone to dominate her and take care of her needs and Jungkook gets to live out his fantasies of her truly belonging solely to him. But he knew she would never go for that and that he would continue to toture himself this way.

He tucks the thought away as he suddenly plunges two fingers inside of her. “And who does this pussy belong to?” He growled.

Y/N immediately clenches around them and lets out a cracked moan. “You, sir! This pussy is all yours. Oh fuck, ugh!” She cried out. At least Jungkook can be sure of that, he thought as he began curling his fingers into her at lightning speed. He holds her hips in place as he goes to work and Y/N can’t even think about the pain in her arms anymore once she feels her orgasm approaching.

She grunts fervently as the pressure in her core builds and builds until she can’t stand it. She gives no warning, just allowing the glorious, all-consuming feeling to ignite her insides without a single sound. The only noise to be heard in the room was the sloshing of Jungkook’s fingers moving rapidly inside of her and the slap of his palm against her wet mound.

Jungkook was so enraptured by her eyes rolling back into her head that he didn’t notice the clear liquid escaping from her cunt, getting all over his hand and dripping onto the floor. He brought her drooping head up so he could kiss her eagerly as he removed his fingers and stroked her clit like a wild man, getting more of her juices all over him.

She never told him to stop as she was struck silent by the amount of pleasure she just experienced, but he removed his hand and continued kissing her writhing body hungrily. She was out of breath as she twitched and mewled against him, audibly shuddering from time to time.

“Holy fucking shit. You’re just full of surprises huh?” He praised her with her face in his hands. Her only reaction was to smile tiredly. Her body was absolutely spent and still experiencing aftershocks.

“Now let’s see if we can make you do that again.” he says, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist, thankfully taking the weight off of her arms.

She finally speaks in a disoriented voice with her eyes half closed. “Yes, please sir.”

Jungkook pushes inside of her, her cunt was now extremely wet and extremely tight due to that first squirting orgasm and he could tell he wouldn’t last long. He began speedily fucking into her, his hips slapping against her bruised and aching ass over and over again.

Y/N was in another realm of euphoria, this one being better than the last. She didn’t even know that was possible. Her head was tilted all the way back and her eyes were closed, but they were focused. She was too far gone to even remember her own name at this point.

“Please…” She mumbled. “Please what?” Jungkook grunted, his vigorous hips never changing pace.

“Please, please make me cum, Mr. Jeon.” She begged through gritted teeth. “I want it so bad. Please give me your cum.”

“Oh fuck, baby.” He moaned, thrusting impossibly faster, both of them close to the edge.

She felt herself growing slightly over stimulated, but she was so close, chasing that high that made her see stars. She was concentrated on the feeling of Jungkook’s dick pumping in and out of her and hitting just the right spot against her walls. Jungkook felt a force resisting him from inside of Y/N and before he could grasp it he was being pushed out along with Y/N’s cum.

A full fledged scream escaped from her throat that was elongated by Jungkook who swiped at her clit wildly to prolong her orgasm. He watches her twitch and moan helplessly before sliding back in and picking up where he left off.

“No, p-please sir, I can’t.” She choked out, her chest heaving with exhaustion.

He gripped her face roughly in his hand and brought it close to his. “No, you wanted this dick so you gonna take this dick.” He seethed. “That’s what you came here for right?”

“Yes sir.” She cried. Jungkook thrusted up into her half a dozen more times before he came inside of her, ripping yet another orgasm from Y/N. She felt tears slide down her face at the sheer force of energy in her veins. She saw white behind her eyes and her body burned all over in the best of ways.

“Argh!” Jungkook growled boisterously as he came, holding her hips rigidly against his as he came down. When he looked up he could see Y/N practically falling asleep against him, yet her body was shaking slightly. He pulled out of her and released her from her restraints.

“Let’s get you to bed, huh?” He grinned, holding her tight as he let her down because he didn’t expect her to be able to hold herself up. He was proven right as she immediately slumped over his shoulder once her arms were free. The mafia leader carried her to the bed and gently laid her on her back, taking a moment to clean both of them off before he laid down too.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” He whispered sweetly. Initially, the assassin didn’t realize he was speaking to her as she was quickly drifting off to sleep, but after a moment she assured him, “I’m fine Jungkook.”

#bts smut #jungkook smut #mafia!bts #mafia jungkook #mafia!jungkook #jungkook au #hoseokmylovesworld

750 notes · View notes

dovechim · 5 years

Text

lost in the funhouse (m)

⇥ 9.7k

⇥ warnings: psychological manipulation, spitting, slight blood play, oral (both receiving) unprotected sex (y’all know to wrap it right), impregnation risk, cream pie, dirty talk, name calling, Daddy kink

tldr; prisoner Namjoon is here

⇥ a/n: if you had any plans for the Valentine’s Day weekend, throw them all out the window. Happy Valentines Day from yours truly 💌

You’re used to the world being in different shades of grey. Both in the literal and figurative sense. Everything around you is doused in that dull colour, from the austere steel gates every 20 metres, to the security guards in their grey uniforms twirling their batons and sporting the big guns. This place is crawling with security cameras, with the state-of-the-art technology designed to keep the madhouse in order.

Hope World Mental Asylum for the Criminally Insane. A slightly ironic name, seeing as one couldn’t find an inkling of hope in this place no matter how hard they tried.

The prison orderlies bow as you walk past them, and you give them a smile in greeting. The staff here are nice enough. The security guards always treat you with respect, but you’ve seen the way they rough up an inmate who steps out of line. Though you suppose they’re trained to only react that way to the criminally insane. Still, they keep order in the asylum, and with the rowdier inmates that you see, you feel a bit better knowing that they have your back, although you could never believe that any of these people would ever hurt you.

Like you said, your world isn’t black and white, and neither are these people. They come in many shades of grey, and it’s your job to see them for who they really are, not for what the world has labelled them as.

Your heels click along the concrete floor as you walk past the cells of all the inmates, braving the catcalls and hoots along the way. In your white coat that conceals your figure, you feel secure, confident, not in the least bothered by the rowdiness and lewd comments thrown at you. The pristine white of your coat stands out amongst all the grey like a blinding light, painfully out of place, and the prisoners know that. They jeer as you walk past them, but you only give them your angelic smile, greeting them and asking how they’ve been.

You are late to your 2pm slot. A last-minute scheduling, a case that has been dropped by many junior psychiatrists until it was handed to someone more senior, like you. You’d thoroughly familiarized yourself with his case file last night, but when you step inside the cell that you always use for consultations, nothing prepares you to face your newest patient.

He is not bedraggled or covered with the dirt and grime that seems to be everywhere in this place. On the contrary, his blonde hair is slicked back neatly, parted on the side and revealing his forehead. His glasses are perched high up on his nose, even his prison issued jumpsuit seems to fit his lithe frame perfectly. The grey material is pulled tight over his shoulders, rolled up to his elbows in a manner which emphasizes his biceps. The front of it has its buttons undone to reveal a thin, white undershirt that clings to his chest. The rest of his body, however, is concealed behind the desk he is sitting behind.

But what pulls you in is the look on his face. Many of your patients are often broken products of the system, some of them don’t say a single word with you during your session, others ramble on incoherently. One of your patients had a condition where they’d laugh uncontrollably every other sentence. It’s all part and parcel of your job, nothing you haven’t seen before. But this man looks… interested.

He is well put together, intelligent, bright looking eyes tracking your every movement. His hands are laced together on top of the cold metal table that might have been repurposed from an operating table. His unwavering stare unsettles you as you take your seat. For the first time since you started working in this place, you feel uncertain, like you missed that last step coming down the stairs.

For a moment, you wonder if someone looking in on this scene would be able to tell who the psychiatrist is.

“Good afternoon, Mr Kim,” you place your manila folder down on the table.

He smiles serenely at your greeting. If he is surprised at the formal way you refer to him, rather than his prisoner number, he doesn’t show it. “Hello, Doctor. Nice of you to make time for me today.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you nod at him, already even more impressed with how well-spoken he is. His voice is smooth, he sounds as if he could be giving a speech at the UN.

“You know, you have quite the reputation here,” Namjoon leans back in his seat, entirely at ease as he takes in your appearance from head to toe. His stare feels intimate, and then it occurs to you that just as you are here to evaluate him, he is appraising you as well.

“Oh really? Do tell,” you are genuinely interested now. “I figure you probably have an in with the rest here. You could really be helping me out.”

“Well.. let’s see. Graduated from college at the top of your class. Could have gone on to become a prestigious surgeon, have your own hospital and all that. But no. You chose to go into psychiatry. Chose to damn yourself, sully your pretty little self working in a place like this, just to figure out madmen like me.” Namjoon says all this in a matter of fact tone, as if he were reading an instruction manual. But the scary thing is, he is spot on. “So now you spend all your time locked up in this madhouse, talking to men who think about doing the most perverse, fucked up things to you while you sit right in front of them.”

“Is that what they say, or is that what you think?” You maintain a smile on your face. You’ve heard far worse before, but you never let any of them faze you.

“You caught me there,” Namjoon’s façade breaks into a sheepish smile. “Most of it, yeah. My assessment of you, doc. The angel in the madhouse.”

“You’re right. Mostly, anyway,” you admit with an easy shrug. “I did choose psychiatry over general surgery. You’re good at reading people.”

“It’s what a psychopath like me specializes in,” he says this easily, as if he is talking about being good at math or how quick he is at learning to ride a bike. “We read people. Just from their mannerisms alone. We observe them, get into their heads, and we get inside of them. In the most intimate way possible.”

“You know, that isn’t too far from what a psychiatrist does either,” you twirl your pen, watching his eyes follow the motion like a lion stalking its prey. “You and me, we aren’t too different.”

Namjoon lets out a loud, full bellied laugh. “Oh, doll. We couldn’t be any more different. You’re so… good. A good girl. And I’m anything but.”

“What are you, then?”

Instead of answering, he fixes you with an amused look.

“People aren’t black and white, Namjoon. Just because you’re not good, doesn’t mean you are evil. Life doesn’t work like that.”

“I beg to differ. You know, here you have the guys who think they’ve done nothing wrong. In their point of view, they are the good guy, right? But then you have guys like me, guys who knowwhat they’ve done.” He leans forward now, sliding his hands along the table until you are painfully aware of how close they are to touching yours. “Who enjoy breaking people.”

You can feel his breath on your skin.

“Oh, I’ll enjoy breaking you, doll.” He finally sits back with a smile that sends the slightest hint of nerves fluttering in your stomach.

The buzzer rings, signaling the end of your session, and he gets up of his own accord, holds his hands out for the handcuffs that are slapped onto him by the prison orderlies. Before he leaves, though, he shoots you a salacious smile over his shoulder.

“See you next time, doll.”

“Tell me, doc. Aren’t you curious at all?”

“About what?”

In this room, there are only two of you. But you know that at any one point in time, there are eyes on you. There are armed guards keeping watch outside this cell, ready to strike should anything go wrong.

“I said last session that I was thinking of doing the most perverse and disgusting things to you while you sit in front of me, all prim and proper. Don’t you want to know what they are?”

He wants to elicit some sort of reaction out of you. Namjoon is watching you closely for any reaction at all, but you know his tactics all too well. He is trying every trick in the book, starting with the one he thinks will work best. Practically dangling bait in front of you, hoping that you will bite.

Today, he is wrapped up in a straitjacket, his arms crossed over his front because of a transgression committed earlier this week that deemed him a threat. Yet, his mannerisms aren’t the slightest bit affected. He speaks with the confidence of a foreign diplomat, his eyes roving about your person as if he owns you.

“I thought you said it was the others who were thinking of me like that. Not you.”

Snagged, Namjoon lets out a small chuckle. “You got me there, doll.”

His admission does not fool you. Someone like Kim Namjoon wouldn’t let themselves get backed into a corner or admit something that they weren’t already willing to give away. It’s all just a game to him.

“You’re so pretty. As always,” Namjoon smiles, a charming grin that makes your heart beat a little faster. “You know, we all love seeing you. It’s the only thing that brightens our days in here.”

Seeing him face to face like this, it’s so hard to differentiate him from the Kim Namjoon that you know from his casefile. Multiple homicides, drug use, violent crime, and worst of all, the torture he subjected his victims to.

Looking at him like this, he could be your English professor in college.

“Do me a favour will you? Just one, tiny little thing,” he implores, an innocent look on his face.

Wariness creeps in at the edges of your consciousness, but you find yourself pushing it away.

“It depends on what you’re asking for.”

“My favourite colour is purple.” His next statement catches you even more off guard, because you expected something outrageous like demanding to shorten his sentence or get him on parole. “But everything is just so fucking grey in here. The only spot of colour we- Iget to see is you.”

He leans forward, with some difficulty now with his straitjacket. Namjoon’s voice has dropped to an intimate whisper, his eyes dipping down to linger on your lips. It prompts you to lean forward as well so that you can catch his next words.

“Wear something purple for me, won’t you, babydoll? I just need some colour in my life,” he begs so prettily, and it’s such an innocent request, you can’t find anything insidious in it. “But for our sessions only. It’ll be our little secret.”

His voice trails off, and you can see the hint of possessiveness in his eyes that sends a thrill down your spine, that holds dark promises of what would happen if you wore that colour for someone else.

The buzzer rings. He doesn’t wait for a confirmation from you, just gets up obediently and turns to the guards. The heavy doors close, and you are left alone in the cold, sterile room.

“Dr _____... I live for these moments with you.” Kim Namjoon isn’t his usual, composed self today. His eyes are alight, dancing with mirth the moment you walk into the cell.

He spots the lavender blouse that you have on today, covered by your doctor’s coat, of course. Namjoon only has a few seconds to take in the lemon-yellow pencil skirt that you have on before you take a seat opposite him. He is smiling like the cat that caught the canary.

“Thank you for honouring my request,” he says with another charming smile, and today because the straitjacket is off, he reaches across the table with his hands, long and slim fingers laced together.

“It was a minor inconvenience, of course,” you sigh dramatically. “Didn’t have anything purple in my wardrobe, I realized. Had to go on a shopping spree and treat myself for the first time in a long while.”

“I’m sorry you enjoyed yourself because of me,” Namjoon banters back, and you giggle with your hand over your mouth.

He watches you laugh with a smile that crinkles the corners of his mouth, emphasizing his dimples.

“What is it like outside, doctor?” He asks with a beguiling smile, tilting his head as he watches you digest the question. “What’s the best thing you love about being outside? Is it the colour of the sky, or the warmth of the sun on your skin?”

Again, his questions are so innocent, that you can’t possibly believe how many people he’s tortured and murdered. How many of his own gang members he killed. Kim Namjoon’s innocent dimples are on full display as he searches your expression.

“I like… I like how the sky is boundless. At any one time, if I look up at it, I feel… free. Like I can go anywhere I want to.” Your thoughts wander, taking you outside of this sterile, heavily guarded prison cell until you can almost feel the breeze on your cheeks. But then, the heavy clank of a prison door somewhere outside brings you back to reality, and you realise what you’ve just said in front of someone who’s been sentenced to this mental asylum for life.

A part of you expects him to lunge across the table for your throat. But Kim Namjoon has not moved a single muscle. Instead, the smile on his face is ever present, dimples and all, and you can’t help but detect something sinister in it. But instead of making you feel uneasy, it thrillsyou.

Is this what it feels like to be dancing with the devil?

He lets out a contented sigh, as if he’s living in the memories you just described. “So innocent, doctor. That’s what I like about you. You remind me of how the world would look like if everything was good.”

Somehow, his approval feels good. It feels right.

“Do me a favour, will you?” Namjoon opens his eyes from his brief escape into fantasy. “Dance for me, little swan.”

“Dance?” You hesitate. “I can’t dance… I don’t know how to…”

“Then twirl,” he says, not giving you time to fumble about in your own lack of self-esteem. “Twirl for me, pretty thing.”

You reluctantly get up, seeing the hope in his eyes as he watches your every move. You are more self-conscious than you’ve ever been in this place, especially so when he bids you to take off your doctor’s coat. Without it, without the sense of validation and authority it affords you, you begin to feel like the tables have turned between you and Kim Namjoon. That really, he’s the one evaluating you.

You leave your coat on the back of the chair. Placing your feet together, you start to spin slowly, feeling the brush of your skirt against your thighs elevate your heart rate. You go faster, feeling the breeze of your own making caress your hair. All this while you are aware of his eyes on you, tracking your every movement like a predator stalking its prey. A laugh escapes your lips as you put your arms out for balance; but all it takes is one misstep, and suddenly you find yourself in the arms of a mass murderer.

Kim Namjoon sets you upright again, his lithe arms feel strong as you clutch his biceps. His frame towers over you, and it is only then that you realise how much power he exudes, just from his aura alone. How did he even move that quickly?

“Careful, Doctor. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt, now would we?” The beats of your heart count off the seconds that he holds you in his arms, and it feels like an eternity before he lets you go. “Only I get to do that. Only I can hurt you, babydoll.”

His eyes dip to your lips, and he places his hand on your chin, running a thumb along your bottom lip. You feel the pad of his thumb dampen with your saliva, and you can hardly breathe.

“You would look good with red lipstick,” he comments casually, dropping his hand from your face and taking a step back.

As if on cue, the buzzer rings, and the prison orderlies rush in to corral him into his handcuffs, lead him back to his cage. He keeps his eyes on you as he is dragged out of the room, on the way your chest heaves as you struggle to catch your breath.

A knock sounds at the door of your office. A little hesitant, but more insistent the second time round.

“Doctor? You’re late for your session with Prisoner 120994.” It’s the intern who does the administrative scheduling for the psychiatrists, Jeon Jeongguk. The number catches you off guard for a moment, until you connect the dots. You haven’t thought of Kim Namjoon as Prisoner 120994 for the longest time.

You take a moment longer as you stare at your reflection in the small hand mirror, contemplating the red lipstick on your desk. But it clashes with your violet cardigan, and the whole look is just messy.

The knock comes again, and you hastily throw off your cardigan, apply your lipstick, and gather your white coat.

“Dr _____, you’ll be la- oh. Um, Prisoner 120994 is waiting, Dr _____.” Jeongguk awkwardly swings the door open wider so that you can get past him. “You look… you look different today. New lipstick?”

“Just trying something new,” you shrug it off casually as he follows behind you like a puppy.

“Not only today, you’ve been looking different lately!” Jeongguk is quick to add on.

You are almost halfway to your consultation cell, but Jeongguk is still following you. He doesn’t let up until you stand before the armed guards. They open the door, and you see that Namjoon is already seated in his usual seat. He cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of you, his usual charming smile primed to greet you, but it fades when he sees Jeongguk.

“… the new style looks really good on you!” Jeongguk is bright eyed as he grins at you.

You cast him a cold glare. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to work, intern? I don’t need an escort to walk me to my sessions.”

Without waiting for a response, you enter the cell, the door slamming behind you. Shooting Namjoon an apologetic smile, you sit down across him, arranging your files on the cold metal table in front of you.

“Who was that?”

“Oh, it was…” your voice trails off upon seeing the dark look on his face. “It was our admin intern. He’s young, so he’s still pretty immature. But he gets work done, so…”

Namjoon is no longer interested in your answer. Instead, he is appraising your person, from the way you nervously arrange the papers on the desk, to your inability to meet his gaze.

“The lipstick doeslook good on you, Doctor,” he relents finally, and you are able to relax for the first time since you stepped foot in this cell a few moments ago. His gaze feels more intimate than ever as he practically eye-fucks you, lingering on the low neckline of your light blue strappy top. “But it seems like you wanted Jeongguk to see it instead of me.”

“No! Jeongguk is… he’s no one. No one compared to you,” Feeling like a scolded child, your cheeks heat up in shame.

“Aren’t you forgetting something else, too?” Namjoon is relentless, raising a brow at your outfit of choice today.

At once, you jump to your own defense, but your voice trails off in uncertainty. “It clashed with the lipstick! And so I didn’t know…”

“Did it?” He expresses doubt, his eyes still eating up every inch of exposed skin on your chest. It ignites a fire in your lower belly, makes the entire room heat up.

“But I wore something else that’s purple,” you’re quick to continue, eager to earn back his approval.

His eyebrow perks up with a lazy, lethal interest, like a jaguar flicking its tail, contemplating a potential kill. “What is that, babydoll?”

Your heart is in your throat. Knowing exactly where the security cameras are located in this room, you angle your body as you scoot your chair closer to the table. Then, you lean forward ever so deliberately until you’re sure that he can get a good peek of your lilac lace bra down your shirt, and the smirk of approval sends adrenaline singing through your veins.

This is so wrong. You could be fired for this.

But then why does being wrong feel so right?

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me,” he lets out a single, vehement curse, his eyes unable to leave that sweet spot of your cleavage pushed together by your bra. “Today it’s your bra, but next time… next time I’ll be sucking on your pretty pink nipples.”

Hearing him praise you is the best feeling in the world. And even better is how he can’t take his eyes off you.

Taking advantage of the fact that the security cameras in this room are only filming your back, you reach into the sleeve of your coat and lower the straps of your top, so that it falls down your chest, fully exposing your breasts in your lilac lace bra to his view.

“Now I’m not forgetting anything, am I?” You voice is breathless as you watch his eyes travel greedily across your cleavage, licking his lips. “We should continue our session like this.”

Namjoon lets out a chuckle. “Oh, babydoll. You think I can concentrate on what you’re saying if you look like that?”

“Then don’t,” the words come out of your mouth, and you didn’t even realise you were this brave.

“Remember those perverse, disgusting things I mentioned during our first session, Doctor?” He leans forward for a better look at your breasts, watching as they begin to heave up and down because of your heavy breathing.

“Yes. I want to hear them.”

“You’re so… good,” Namjoon whispers, as if to himself. “I want to hurt you so, so bad, babydoll. Fuck every single hole you have until you are brimming with cum. I want to tie you up to the bed, legs spread permanently and make you my little cum slut. Just a receptacle for holding my cum, and if you dare to let any spill out, I’ll choke you with my cock until you pass out. When I finally let your pretty little pussy have my cock, it won’t be vanilla sex like you’re used to with that loser Jeongguk. I’ll brand you with my cum, and you’ll be my breeding slut. Forever reduced to carrying my babies. I will own you. I will break you so good, baby doll, and I will hurt you really, really bad.”

“I can take it,” you answer eagerly. “Anything you want to do to me. I can take it. I want it.”

He laughs again, almost in delight at your compliance. “So obedient. So innocent. You don’t know how badly I can hurt you, babydoll.”

You shake your head vehemently, leaning forward to offer him a view of your cleavage. “I don’t care. I want it.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across Namjoon’s face. “If you really want it, babygirl…”

“Yes, I want it,” he has reduced you to incoherency.

“… you’re going to have to help me with it.” Namjoon reaches forward to trace a pattern on the top of your hand, and it feels like your nipples are so hard, they’re aching for his touch. The single point of contact between you and him has your entire body heating up, your thighs rubbing against each other, and your panties drenched.

You nod immediately. “Anything. Whatever you need.”

“If we’re going to fuck, we need a place where we won’t be watched. As much as I want to hurt you, that sight is for my eyes only. I don’t like sharing my toys with others.”

“I understand-“

“Now, there’s going to be a system maintenance next Monday, exactly three days from now,” Namjoon continues calmly, his eyes razor sharp as they lock in on you, no longer clouded with lust. “All the security systems will be offline until the first bedcheck at 6am. At exactly 3.05am, there will be a change in shift, and there won’t be anyone watching my cell. It takes 9 minutes. You need to come and get me out of my cell. And then… then we can talk about how bad you’re willing to get hurt.”

“How will I… how will I get the key?” It doesn’t even occur to you to question how he knows all this information.

“You’re smart, babygirl. You’ll figure it out,” he strokes your chin with his thumb, admiring how your red lipstick smears when he brushes it against your lips. “Already a mess for me. I can’t wait to wreck you, baby girl.”

“I’ll do it,” you reassure him, only to be rewarded with his approving smile.

“Cover yourself, babydoll. The buzzer is about to go off.” Namjoon sits back in his seat as you snap back into reality, following his instructions as you pull the straps of your top back on your shoulders. He looks a little sorry to see you covered back up.

As predicted, the buzzer rings, and the doors fling open.

The guards come in to take him away, and you don’t even question his near supernatural ability to keep track of time so accurately, even though there isn’t a clock in this room. Even you lose track of time during your sessions with him, forgetting to look at your watch that you keep hidden.

All you can see is him.

“Everything okay? You’ve been stirring that coffee for the past five minutes.” A voice jerks you out of your daze.

Min Yoongi, the head prison warden, strolls in lazily, twirling his all-access card in his hand. You almost salivate at the sight of it. It’s all too convenient. His access card is the only way for you to get into the room with all the keys to the prisoners’ cells.

He slips it into his back pocket carelessly.

There’s no one in the common pantry that all the staff in the mental asylum share. It’s the perfect chance.

You turn around, immediately spotting how his eyes are drawn to the low neckline of your top. So the rumours were true. Just a little bit of cleavage and the man will roll over like a puppy begging for a belly rub.

“Just tired, is all,” you smile jovially, dropping the empty coffee sachet on the floor not so accidentally. When you bend over to pick it up, you make sure he gets a good look down your shirt.

As you straighten up, you catch a glimpse of his dazed stare. You take it as an opportunity to step closer so that your bodies are almost pressed up against each other.

“Say… what are you doing this weekend? Are you free, by any chance?” You let your eyes linger on his lips, angling your head so that more of your neck is exposed to him. You can feel his breath, hot and heavy on your skin.

“Th-this weekend? Su..sure, I’m free, yeah,” he stumbles over his words, hands coming up to hover around your ass, still unsure of himself.

You gently coax his hands, his right hand resting on your butt cheek, and the other on your waist. He gropes your ass immediately, unable to control himself. In return, you giggle playfully, sliding your hand down to his ass in a show of flirting as well.

Closing the gap between your bodies, you press your breasts against him, lowering your lips to his ear. “You should come over. My roommate is out and we’ll have the whole place… to- our-selves.”

You emphasize the last three syllables, noticing the way his breathing picks up as a result. You deftly slide your hand out of his pocket, patting his ass as you wink at him. “Call me!”

As he watches you go with lustful eyes, your step has an extra flourish, hips swaying to give him a good show. But what he can’t see is the satisfaction on your face as you kiss the access card, sliding it into your bra for safe keeping.

Having worked in Hope World Mental Asylum for the Criminally Insane for the past nine years, you know your way around it like the back of your hand. The guard routes, security camera positions, emergency exits. Basically, you have the map of it memorized.

Earlier that week, you signed yourself up for the graveyard shift, which of course no one wanted. No one even asked why you wanted that shift, all too glad to clock off and leave you alone in your office.

The silence is deafening as you watch the minute hand crawl closer and closer to the ‘1’ mark. At 3.04am, you get up silently, having dressed in a black hoodie and black jeans, with sneakers to go along with it. You let yourself out of your office, clutching the access card as you make your way to the control room where all the keys are kept.

From your office to the control room is only 50 steps. Less than a minute later, you are in and out, grabbing the keys from a hook labelled ‘120994’.

From the control room to his cell is another 80 steps. It takes you one minute to get to his cell, and you see him pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. He stops as he spots you, his features lighting up with a dimpled grin.

Another 10 seconds to unlock his cell. And then he is out.

The caged beast is no longer so.

You expected him to sweep you into his embrace at once, kiss you until you can’t remember your name. But all he does is take your hand in his, breaking into a run and forcing you to keep up with him. Your footsteps are silent as he leads you down the rabbit’s hole, twisting and turning until you lose track of where you’re going.

Down flights and flights of stairs, out of a door labelled emergency exit that you never came across before. And then it is down a dark tunnel that never seems to end.

When he finally stops, you are out of breath. “Wh-where are we?”

Namjoon is not winded in the slightest. It’s obvious that he is at peak physical condition, and he turns to you, front buttons of his grey prison issued jumpsuit undone. “We’re underground, babydoll. A place where they’ll never find us.”

A quick look around tells you that this might have been a medical ward a long time ago. Operating tables, not unlike the one you have in your consultation room, are strewn about. Only thing is, these tables have limb restraints attached to them. Broken syringes lie on the floor, electroconvulsive therapy machines are abandoned in the corner. Years of disuse has not done this room any good.

You should feel vulnerable in a place like this that could have come from one of Stephen King’s novels. Trapped in close proximity with a madman who prowls the room’s perimeter.

But all you feel is exhilaration and anticipation for what is to come.

You watch his biceps tense as he runs his fingers through his hair, turning around to face you. “A place where you’re all mine.”

He stalks towards you, eyes glinting in the darkness. “We have all the time in the world, babydoll. And I told you before. I’m going to break you so, so bad.”

“I want it,” your voice comes out in a near whisper as he backs you toward the wall, caging you in with his lithe arms.

His broad shoulders pin you against the wall, and he forces your chin up so that he can finally kiss you. Namjoon’s lips are rough, his teeth not showing mercy as he owns your mouth. His hands roam the expanse of your body, groping first your ass, then palming your breasts in his large hands.

He is like a drug you can’t get enough of. Every lick of his tongue is intoxicating, his lips pull you in deeper into your descent. There’s no going back now. But of course, you knew this all along.

Namjoon pulls away with swollen lips, toned chest panting as he picks you up around the waist. His strength only serves to make you even more beguiled by him, and you have to touch his biceps to feel how they tense and strain under your weight.

He treats you like a ragdoll as he tosses you onto the metal table, climbing onto of you and spreading your thighs with his legs. Namjoon takes a moment to admire how pretty you look with your hair all splayed out across the metal table. In a single motion, he strips your body of your black hoodie with a crazed look in his eyes, annoyed with not being able to see and touch your bare skin. He brings both of your hands up by your head, straps them in with the restraints before you even realise it.

Namjoon has his thumb on your chin. “Open,” he orders, and you obediently part your lips.

He spits right into your mouth, admiring the way his saliva is collected on the back of your tongue.

“Swallow, then show me,” he demands, and you swallow down his spit, opening to show him an empty mouth. “That’s my babydoll.”

He kisses down your body, looking for the first time, unhinged as he feasts on the sweetness of your skin. Namjoon fascinates himself by spitting on your breasts, watching his spittle run down the crevices of your body, into your cleavage, soaked up by your lavender lace bra.

Then, in a sudden movement, he tears your bra to pieces, the underwire ripping your skin and making you gasp in exhilaration. The raw display of strength, the primal desire in his eyes as he sees the crimson stain on your pretty, smooth skin. One finger swipes across the newly made wound, gathering the blood and bringing it to his mouth.

“Sweeter than I imagined,” he says as if in a trance, mesmerized by the way your blood tastes.

Then he dips his finger in the crimson liquid once more, tracing patterns down your belly as he caresses your waist, until he comes to the waistband of your jeans.

“I had hoped you would be in slightly more suitable attire… but I guess this is for practicality’s sake,” he muses, flicking open the button with practiced ease. Namjoon slides your jeans down your legs, hands lingering on every inch of exposed skin as he goes. He tosses your jeans somewhere on the floor, leaving you in your flimsy lace panties that are already soaked to the core.

He brushes two fingers experimentally against the wet patch. “Tell me darling. How would you like to live dangerously?”

When he pulls your panties down, you are so wet that you can smell yourself. Embarrassment heats your cheeks as Namjoon scents your arousal, biting his lower lip in response.

“Look at you. Already so wet, your pussy is begging to be destroyed.” He spreads your pussy lips with two fingers, exposing your delicate insides lewdly as he examines you thoroughly. “Tell me whose pussy this is.”

“Y-yours, it’s yours. Forever. If you want it.” You respond immediately to the warning tap on your inner thigh.

Namjoon chuckles, a low, dangerous sound that you can feel directly in your core. “We’ll see how well it can take cock first. I’m going to tear your pussy apart, then we’ll see if you still want to offer it to me.”

When he reaches your ankles, he imparts a kiss to each one before he straps them in. You can feel the leather restraints tight against your skin, so that you are left spread-eagled on the metal table.

“So perfect,” Namjoon smiles to himself, licking your essence off his fingertips. “Just waiting for me to break you.”

Every second that you don’t feel his touch on your body is a moment of torture. “Namjoon,” you sob, arching your breasts to the ceiling.

“Beg for it,” he whispers, slapping your breasts roughly so that he can watch them bounce under his force. He pinches your nipples hard, reveling in your screams as he tweaks your pleasure. “All you have to do is say the word. ‘Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty…”

“Please,” you gasp, thighs aching with the strain of trying to rub against each other. You can feel yourself dripping onto the table underneath you already. “Pretty please.”

“Good girl,” Namjoon sighs in delight, taking in the trails of dried blood on your tummy. Your hardened nipples are begging to be tasted, but he isn’t done with them yet.

He spots what he’s looking for on the floor a couple of paces away. Leaving your side to pick them up, he attaches the electric clamps onto your nipples, causing you to wail out in pain and pleasure. Of course, there’s no current active between them, since this place has been abandoned for god knows how long, but this will have to do.

“Now, let me eat my babydoll’s pussy.” He finally invites himself to feast on the delicacy in between your legs that he’s been dreaming of ever since the first time he set eyes on you.

The first lick has you thrashing on the table, tears leaking and streaking your mascara down your cheeks. His tongue continues to probe your clit, circling it torturously as two fingers plunge themselves into you without warning.

Having this intelligent, well-spoken man who could probably run for president in between your legs makes you heady with desire. The lust filled moans reverberate in the empty, abandoned medical ward, mixing with the filthy sounds of Namjoon as he tongues your cunt. Two lithe fingers are buried deep, thrusting and seeking out that sensitive spot inside you.

The word slips out before you realise it. “Daddy… let me cum. Wanna cum.”

He pauses at this, letting out a harkened laugh with your juices still dripping from his mouth. “A pretty little girl like you, with a Daddy kink? Oh, this is too perfect. I’ll fuck all the daddy issues right out of you, babydoll.”

And then his tongue is back on your clit, he adds another finger to your cunt to stretch you out even more. Your thighs are twitching, heels banging against the metal table as you convulse under his touch.

“Don’t cum.” He commands, slapping your clit sharply. “You’re not allowed to cum until Daddy says.”

“Please, please stop, I can’t hold it back,” you beg and please, thighs straining to close. You are almost at the edge of your orgasm, one more lick of his devious tongue would send you right over.

Namjoon gives a disappointed sigh, eyes flicking to your tear stained face. Like a predator toying with its prey, he decides to let you off just this once.

“Fine. Meanwhile, I’ll use your pretty little mouth.” A series of movements follow, and you strain your neck to catch a glimpse of what he’s doing.

And it is a glorious sight. Namjoon pushes the sleeves of his prison issued jumpsuit down his well-muscled arms, exposing the thin white shirt underneath. It clings to his defined chest, slightly matted with sweat. But the real prize comes when he pushes the jumpsuit below his waist, and you realise that underwear is probably the only thing that is not prison issued.

The sight of his long, hard cock, angry and red greets you. One hand pushes the rest of the jumpsuit down, the other strokes his length and gathers the precum on his palm to provide a better glide. He catches you staring with a smirk, his abs tensing as he puts on a show for you.

Namjoon kicks his jumpsuit off, walking to the head of the table. He strokes your cheek gently, then slaps it hard, leaving a red imprint behind. He digs his fingers into your cheeks, forcing you to tilt your head up uncomfortably to make eye contact with him.

“Open,” he says, as if you were nothing but another orifice to pleasure himself with.

You can only imagine how much he’s been dying to do this. When was the last time he got off? Your lips part obediently, offering your throat as a vessel for his pleasure.

He rests his cock on your bottom lip, smearing his precum all over your chin. Namjoon grasps himself and moves the tip of his cock to your reddened cheek, spreading the precum over the imprint of his hand. Satisfied with his handiwork, he finally slides his cock into your mouth, and then you are filled with the taste of him.

His cock is hot and heavy on your tongue, his pre cum fills your throat with its saltiness as he thrusts hard. The tip of his cock hits your throat, and you can already start to feel how raw it is as he face fucks you. His balls are hitting your face repeatedly with every thrust, so you have to close your eyes and surrender your mouth to him completely.

“Your every breath belongs to me,” Namjoon emphasizes his statement with every thrust of his cock. “If you breathe, it’ll be because I allowed you to. Got that, slut?”

He punctuates this with a slap to your breasts, causing your nipples to twinge from the clamps. Namjoon then releases the clamps and tosses them aside so that he can bend down to take an abused nipple into his mouth while he fucks your face.

Every few thrusts, Namjoon buries his cock all the way in your throat, forcing you to deepthroat him. Your throat convulses around him as spit and precum drip out the sides of your mouth. Then, he decides to push his cock all the way in and keep it there, actively depriving you of your air supply. His balls are heavy on your face, smothering you.

“Shit!” He pulls his cock away from your mouth after what seems like eternity. “You have such a good mouth for cock-sucking, babydoll. Do you ever suck Jeongguk’s cock like that? Hmmm? Tell Daddy what a cock slut you are.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No! I’m just a cockslut for you. Only you.”

Namjoon chuckles darkly, before shutting you up as he places his balls on your chin. “Shut up and suck my balls, slut.”

You lave your tongue around him, taking one of his testicles into your mouth and playing with it, careful to keep your teeth from grazing them accidentally. By now, your makeup is smeared all over your face, sticky precum coating every inch of your skin, and he has rubbed his balls and cock all over your face, treating you like a sex doll.

You can feel how heavy his balls are as you switch to the other one. Namjoon groans, almost in pain as you suck dutifully.

“Fuck, I have so much fucking cum for you, babydoll. I want to fucking drown you in cum. But the only place I’ll be putting it is in your pretty pussy. Good girls like you love having a cum filled pussy, don’t they? You can’t live unless your pussy has been well-fucked and creamed. You’ll let any random man fill your pussy with cum, won’t you?”

You make a muffled sound in your throat, and Namjoon sighs impatiently, as if anything you have to say is an inconvenience to him. He pulls his balls from your mouth. “What is it, slut?”

“I’ve- I’ve never let anyone cum inside me before-“

“Oh? Never let another man cum inside you?” He reacts with genuine surprise, slapping one breast harshly again. By now, your tits are red and swollen with his handprints all over them. “Never felt a man’s cock pulse as he paints your womb with his cum? Never felt the warmth of his semen in your pussy, travelling through your pretty little body in search of your egg?”

“Never,” you say truthfully, entirely enraptured by his dark, gleaming eyes.

For a moment, he is silent, and you almost think that you can see a glimmer of something that you haven’t quite seen before when it comes to Namjoon. It is soft, tender, but gone in a split second before you had a chance to ascertain that you saw it for real.

“Then I’ll be the first, babydoll.” The luscious grin is back as he makes his way in between your legs, cock probing your inner thighs and staining them with pre-cum. “Beg for my cock.”

You perform for him, as if on cue. “Please, please, please, fuck me. Fuck me so hard and break me, Daddy. I can take it, I promise. Be the first man to cum inside me.”

“What would your parents say if they saw you like this, hmmm?” Namjoon runs the tip of his cock against your slit, slapping it a few times. “All bound up, legs spread, mouth used and begging to get fucked by a madman. Begging for a criminal’s cock.”

Your laugh sounds foreign to your ears. It resounds in the dim room, it is unhinged, on the verge of catatonic.

“They would be proud of me,” you say with a wide grin, and it prompts a belly laugh from Namjoon.

“Give it to me, Daddy,” you bite your bottom lip, canting your hips up in invitation. “I want it all.”

Namjoon gazes down at you with a look of deranged pride at your bruised and broken body, finally feeding you his cock one inch at a time. He spreads your pussy with two fingers as he thrusts the rest of the way in, marrying your hips together with a flex of his thick thighs.

“So fucking tight, I’m going to have so much fun ruining this pussy,” Namjoon all but cackles as he begins to fuck you, every stroke deep and purposeful.

You can only giggle, all caution thrown to the wind as you watch the sweat start to collect on his body. “I’m already broken, Daddy. Use me as you please.”

So Namjoon doesn’t stand on courtesy. He pumps in and out of your cunt, watching your breasts bounce violently from the force of his thrusts. Your walls mold around his cock as if you were made for him, made to take his fucking like his very own plaything.

He places his hands on either side of your waist as he ruts into you like a filthy animal, and you can see from the way his muscles strain and flex that he is putting every single ounce of energy he has into fucking your pussy. Namjoon’s eyes glimmer with a primordial urge, and you let yourself fantasise that you are his last meal. That he is an inmate placed on death row, and his last, dying wish is to fuck a baby into you.

Your pussy clenches involuntarily, and Namjoon slaps your cheek hard.

“What were you thinking about, slut?” He demands, keeping up the brutal pace as the head of his cock assaults your cervix with every thrust.

“M-making you a baby daddy,” you confess with a sinful leer, mouth open and gasping in pain as he slams into your cervix again.

“Oh? Babydoll read my mind,” Namjoon’s lips curl into a nefarious smile. “Ever since you walked into my cell, all I wanted to do is get you pregnant with my child. Fill you up with so much cum so that there’s no way you won’t get pregnant by the time I’m done with you.”

“Do it, please,” you beg, pussy dripping at the thought of him making you heavy and round with his child. It would be your greatest pleasure to carry his baby, to feel a part of him grow inside you, to walk around in public carrying the baby of an insane criminal.

“I’m gonna make you remember how well I broke you,” Namjoon growls into your skin, his voice is a deep rumble as he brands you with his cock. His girth feels as if it is splitting you apart, you can feel the head of his cock so deep, that if you were to touch your stomach, you might feel his cock there. “For the rest of your life, babydoll. I’m gonna cum so deep in your womb, gonna put a baby right here.”

His hand comes to rest on your lower stomach.

“Then I’m going to let you go with a womb full of my cum, and you’re going to walk out of this place with my baby inside you. You’re going to grow so big and swollen that when people see you, they’ll know you’ve been fucked by a psychopath,” Namjoon licks a stripe up your neck, his teeth sinking into the lobe of your ear. “Inseminated by a madman. Bred by a criminal.”

“I’ll give you all the babies you want,” you are desperate to feel him pulse inside you. “Visit you in prison and let Daddy knock me up over and over. Be your little prison breeding slut.”

A derisive chuckle comes from him as he fondles your clit. At this stage, you are so fucked out, cock drunk and desperate for his cum. You couldn’t possibly have any idea what he’s planning.

“That’s right, babydoll. Now stay still and let Daddy do his job. We only get one chance, so Daddy’s got to make sure he fucks a baby into you now.” The urgency in his voice is lost on you as his hips start to hammer into your cunt, driving his cock so deep until you are crying from the intricate mix of pain and pleasure.

You have no idea how you managed to get this far without cumming, but the tension in your lower belly is right at the brink of snapping. Still, you wait for his permission, and judging from his breathing, he is getting close. His thrusts are getting sloppy, his face buried into your shoulder as he chases after his release.

“Cum for me now. Squeeze my cock like the whore you are,” Namjoon breathes into your shoulder, finally giving you the go ahead.

His resounding groan as he fucks into your tightening pussy encourages you to let him hear how good he’s making you feel. Your screams of his name echo inside the abandoned room as your pussy clamps down around his cock, trying its best to milk him dry of every drop of cum.

“Milk me, you fucking cumslut, squeeze me dry,” he demands, slamming into you one last time before he releases with a loud groan, every pulse of his cock sending spurts of semen deep into your womb where it belongs. His fingers tighten around your thighs, leaving behind blue black bruises. “You better get every drop of cum if you want to get pregnant, whore.”

And you work for his cum, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your walls clench around him rhythmically. He is so deep, you can feel the spurts of his cum directly at your cervix, bathing it generously as your womb swallows it down greedily.

When you feel as if the spurts of cum have stopped, you expect him to pull out. But you realise that his cock still remains hard in your well fucked cunt. Namjoon’s chest is heaving, sweat dripping off every crevice of his muscled torso as he slowly begins to thrust his cock in and out of your creamy pussy.

“Daddy’s got to fuck his cum inside your womb,” he says with his eyes glued to the mess between your legs, watching his semen froth up on his cock. “Be a good doll and don’t let any of it escape.”

His thrusts are slower, but deeper now as he makes sure that his balls hit your ass with every thrust. You can feel how sloppy your pussy is, even if you can’t see the cum on Namjoon’s cock. Your inner thighs are wet and sticky, and you whine like a spoiled toddler.

“Daddy… you’re fucking me so hard.It’s all coming out,” you say with a pout. “How am I gonna give Daddy a baby if he fucks all his cum out of my pussy?”

A definitive throb of his cock inside you tells you that you hit his soft spot. “Daddy’ll have to fill you up again then babydoll.”

This time, a finger circles your clit, pulling the knot in your belly tighter as he fucks into you. You tense up immediately, feeling incredibly sloppy as he fucks the cum deeper into your pussy.

“Can I cum? Daddy, can I cum?” You beg, feeling his cock twitching as he hits you with deep thrusts.

“Cum for me, babydoll. Pull all that sweet cum deep inside your womb where it belongs. Give us a baby,” he cajoles, and the squeezing of your sweet, cum slippery walls in your orgasm rewards him. “Fuck, take my fucking cum. Take all of it!”

For the second time that night, you feel his cum flood your pussy, and he tilts your hips up as he roars his pleasure, fucking your cervix raw and open. His thrusts slow as his spurts of cum weaken, and soon, he is plugging your pussy up with his cum.

“My pretty babydoll,” he runs his tongue up the side of your face, kissing the side of your mouth. “Took my cum so well. It’ll be a miracle if you weren’t pregnant after tonight.”

“Daddy…” you eyelids flutter in exhaustion.

He gives you a final kiss on your forehead, smearing the precum on your face one last time before he pushes himself away from you.

You hear him fiddling with the restraints at your wrists and ankles. A moment later, your limbs are free, and you adjust your position so that your thighs are close together, cradling the precious gift of life that Hehas bestowed you with.

“Rest, babydoll.”

You hear his voice getting more and more distant as he moves about the room. Attempting to open your eyes to follow his movement, you see him rummaging for something in the drawers, and then the sound of paper tearing.

“Wh- what are you…?”

Then, he is back by your side, a large, warm hand on your forehead, forcing you back down again. A pinprick on your arm, and then everything goes black.

When you wake up, it is to darkness and musk.

And god, the ache in your entire body.

You move your legs, grimacing at the stickiness in between them. When you sit up, you can feel globs of cum leak down your inner thigh. You run your fingers through it reverently, bringing it to your lips for a taste and closing your eyes in sheer pleasure as you lick every bit of His cum.

How much time has passed? How long were you out cold for?

Glancing around, you slowly recall the events that transpired. The warmth in your slightly swollen belly that reminds you of the life that you have been tasked to nurture. The used needle on the ground beside you that is probably the reason why you were knocked out.

A giggle passes your lips as you scan the room for any traces of Him, but of course, he isn’t here anymore. But it doesn’t matter. He’s long gone, escaped into the night like thin air.

But he chose you.

You want to jump up and down, hug yourself in delight. But you mustn’t spill any more of His cum. You have to make sure it takes, make sure your belly becomes swollen with his child, just as he intended, so that he can see from wherever he is.

You throw your head back as catatonic laughter takes over you, peals of it resounding in the dark basement of the abandoned medical ward.

EPILOGUE

Your lips curl up in a secret smile when they ask. Words of ‘Congratulations! Who’s the baby daddy?’ only make your heart race.

Your swollen stomach is increasing in size with His gift, slowly, day by day.

Min Yoongi’s curious eyes linger on the swell of your belly. “You know… you never gave me your number that night.”

But you ignore him, stirring your coffee serenely.

“And, next up on the nine pm news. Sightings of mass murderer Kim Namjoon in the vicinity have been reported, but two months after his escape from the Hope World Mental Asylum for the Criminally Insane, police still haven’t been able to track him down. The state has initiated a full-scale manhunt for the criminal, but all efforts have proved to be futile…”

You stroke your belly with a peaceful smile, looking at his picture on the television screen. Handsome as ever.

They should just give up. No one in this entire world can find Kim Namjoon. Not even you.

But you’re not worried. Because you know he’ll come back for you, and meanwhile, you’ll proudly show the world how swollen you are because of Him. And when he does come back, it’ll be to fuck another baby into you.

Because after all, you are his chosen. His one and only.

#bts smut #bts rm #namjoon smut #bts namjoon smut #btssmutclub

2K notes · View notes

dragonfiremage · 4 years

Text

When We First Met

Author’s Note: I couldn’t get this out of my head last night so I spent all day on this. I wanted to build on Under the Moonlight so I wrote a prequel for it. I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: With the rise of insurgents and the recent break-in in his room following his coronation as Firelord, Zuko agrees, at Suki's recommendation, to increase security around the palace and hire a Kyoshi warrior guard at him at night. Good thing Suki knows the right person for the job - you.

At first, you weren't sure how you felt when Suki asked you to babysit the Firelord. When she first told you, you scoffed at the idea. Babysitting the firelord? How boriiing. You wanted where the action was! You wanted to chase down people and chi-block them...not watch over some Firelord while he slept.

But after some begging from Suki (and maybe a bribe of extra vacation day or two), you agreed.

The Firelord was a lot more handsome than you first thought when Suki introduces you to him. Zuko stood in front of you with a sheepish smile, before giving a small wave, "Hello, uh, I'm Firelord Zuko, but uh..you can just call me Zuko."

Beside him, Sokka guffaws and elbows Zuko, whispering, “Nice one, sifu hotman. You sounded real smooth there.”

Suki, who stood next to you with some notebooks against her chest, playfully throws a glare at Sokka, “Sokka, be nice."

Zuko turns red as he elbows Sokka back and glares at him before glancing back at you. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you properly bow to him, your gold Kyoshi headband glinting from the oil lamps that were lit around the room.

"Its an honor, Firelord Zuko. I'm (YN) from Kyoshi Island."

Somewhere behind Zuko, Sokka snorts at the word honor. He walks past Zuko, who looks at Sokka with a perplexed gaze, and greets you warmly with a small hug, “Hey, (YN)! Mind if I whisk my girlfriend away now? I have this whole date night planned for tonight and we're on a tight schedule!"

Zuko blinks back in surprise. Sokka knew you? He watches you laugh warmly as you before patting Sokka’s shoulder, “Nice to see you too, Sokka. Have fun Suki, I can take it from here."

"Thank you again, (YN). I owe you one. Bye Zuko!"

Both Suki and Sokka leave the room, ther laughter echoing down the hallway as they talk over their date night plans. You glance back at Zuko who looks like he doesn’t know what to do next and you briefly think he looked rather cute when he was lost. You look over at his attire, his red and gold robes fitting him very well - the chest piece accentuating his shoulders and the gold bringing the color of his eyes.

'Definitely more handsome,' you think.

A beat of silence seem to stretch before Zuko cleared his throat to break it and asks, "So...uh...do...you need anything?"

Zuk mentally kicks himself. Why am I being so awkward?

You grin, one hand on your hip and the other motioned to the room,”No, but…do you mind if I take a look around?" Zuko nods in reply as he watches you slowly make your way around the room.

Zuko decides to lean against his desk and asks, “So.. you know Sokka?"

You were in the midst of inspecting his bookcase that shelved some books, trinkets, scrolls when you hear his question. Touching the at the dusty scroll on the shelf, you looked over your shoulder to meet Zuko’s gaze, wrinkle your nose at him as you replied with an amused tone, “Yes, he's kinda dating our team leader."

Zuko flushes with embarrassment and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “Right! Suki..."

He watches you disappear outside of his balcony before coming back in to inspect the area around it, moving some of the curtains around that framed the door. His eyes furrow in confusion, “What exactly are you doing...?"

You look over at his direction again and motioned to his balcony, “I’m just checking for any weak areas. Your balcony is high up along the wall which is good, but there are some blind spots below that might be a potential risk. I'll let Suki know to increase security around those areas after my shift."

All he could do was nod at you before you turn around again to look at the rest of his bedroom. You were thorough, Zuko gave you that and, instantly, he felt a little bit more at ease knowing you were doing your best for him.

Zuko quietly admitted that he felt unsure about having a Kyoshi warrior that he didn’t know guard him while he slept. He hoped Suki would take that task, but he knew that he asking too much from her and her busy schedule. But she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and recommended you instead. Praising your strength and loyalty. He agreed hesitantly. However, as he watched you examine his room closely, his concerns vanished. He was actually looking forward in getting to know you better.

Zuko pushes himself off the table and moves over to a shelf containing a tray of tea assortments that his Uncle gave him. While he poured some water into the pot, he wonders what kind of tea you would enjoy before grabbing the Jasmine.

"Would you like a cup of tea?” Zukko offers.

You peek from his walk-in closet and a easy smile tugs at the corner of you lips, “That would be lovely."

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

Your friendship with the Firelord quickly grew after your first night at the palace. And, just like you promised, you had let Suki know about the blind spots by his window the following day and Suki thanked you graciously.

The more time you spent with the Firelord, the less you were thinking of your assignment as babysitting. In fact, you were day dreaming about him more and more, especially during the times when you weren’t working.

Was he safe?

Did he eat lunch yet?

Was his advisors too demanding again?

…Was he thinking of you too?

When you were working, you tried to stay professional but amicable towards him, but you longed to get to know him in a more intimate level. It didn’t help that you would melt in a puddle every time you glanced over at him while he slept peacefully.

Other than that, watching over Zuko was an easy job.

For the most part, Zuko kept to a routine, whether he knew that our not. You would arrive at your post just before sunset, and by that time he was either wrapping up his last meeting with his advisors, or he was already in his room, reading some official documents or signing proclamations before dinner. He would then drink tea, making sure to pour you one as well. Then he would retire for the night as you took your post against a pillar in the balcony.

So when you had arrived for your post that evening, you were surprised when the guards directed you to the palace gardens. And even more surprised when you saw the Firelord leaning over a pond, as he played with the turtleducks. Zuko greets you with a nod and goes back to to observing the ducklings.

You quietly took your post, placing your hands behind you, one hand grabbing the opposite wrist. You made sure you were were far away enough to give Zuko some privacy, but close enough to reach him if danger arose.

The setting sun lit everything with an orange glow, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes at the warmth, the winds picking up briefly and causing your your tassels to sway lightly. You peeped over at Zuko and the gentle curve of his smile makes your heart flutter with fondness. He lightly strokes the head of one of the ducklings as he coos at them sweetly. You couldn't help but let a smile spread across your face as you looked around the grounds for any threat.

When you first agreed to look after the Firelord, you thought it was going to be some boring assignment. However, being his guard gave you a glimpse behind the curtain and see Zuko on a more personal level.

For the past few days, Zuko kept surprising you with his commitment to maintaining peace among the nations, the way he listened to the problems of his people before jumping into action, and the way he stood firm on his convictions and values. He was a man of honor and it made you that much more loyal to him.

But, as you watch him pet his turtleducks, you realized that you would do anything to protect Zuko. The way his eyes gleamed with affection when he watched the turtleducks, the way he cooed at them so sweetly, and the way he carefully petted them as of if they would break under his touch. Despite the pain and abuse he faced from his father and the personal trials he went through to get where he was now, you concluded that Zuko was just a gentle dragon with a heart of gold. And you would do anything to protect that.

With great interest, you watch him grab some feed from a bag as he approached one of the ducks. However, one of the ducklings accidentally nibbles too hard at Zuko’s finger, mistaking it for feed. He yelps in surprise, scaring the turtleducks away as they scatter and before you could control it, you snort in before turning your head to the side to stifle your laughter.

“You think that’s funny?"

Your eyes widen at Zuko’s voice, embarrassed at being caught you laughing at him. You shift uncomfortably, trying to come up for a excuse while silently thanking the spirits for the white face make up you wore that was currently hiding your red cheeks.

Clearing your throat, you reply, "Uh, it was nothing, your majesty. Just something in my throat." You lie quickly, your face back to it's stoic expression.

Zuko stood and dusted his robes before smirking, "Right, so what I heard was coughing just now? Not laughing?"

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, “Uh, yes sir.”

Keeping your eyes trained in front of you, you maintained a straight face.

He hums in acknowledgement before adding, “Lying considered a criminal offense in the Kyoshi code, is it not?”

You braved a glance his way, catching his eyes before looking straight ahead. His tone was serious, but his gaze was soft and playful.

A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as you stood your ground, shoulders rolling back straight before replying, “Yes, Firelord Zuko, that’s correct.”

Zuko crosses his arms as if trying to look intimidating, but you knew better, “So, let me ask you again, (YN), did you think that was funny?”

Your smile at the teasing. Instead of responding to him, however, you break from your post to walk over to him by the edge of the pond. A puzzled look came over his face as he watches you stand near him, his eyes catching yours before crouching down. He watched with curiosity as you bring your hands together and place it in front of you your mouth before releasing air through it and creating a series of sounds resembling that of a turtle duck call.

Zuko’s eyes widened at the sound but gasped when he saw the baby turtleducks swim over with excitement. You playfully twirl your fingers around them as they swam happily before extending your hand out to him. But Zuko just blinks at it with a blank stare, confused.

You laugh lightly at his expression, bringing Zuko’s gaze back to your face. His heart quickened at the slight smirk of your red lips. “Can I have some feed, my lord?”

A flush of embarrassment rushes to his face as he coughs nervously. “Oh! Uh…yes, here some feed.”

You grab some from his hand, trying to not think how your fingers tingled where they touched his warm skin. Bringing it to the pond, the turtleducks quack with delight as they swim closer. You let out a squeal of delight when they pushed their beaks into your hand, tickling the palm of your hand.

A smile breaks across of Zuko's face as he feels his insides flutter at the sound of your laughter. He quietly observes you with a lazy smile as you continued to kneel by pond, the sun setting behind you. The orange glow made you look more radiant that evening and he couldn’t help but feel a tug towards you.

Zuko chest tightened as he observed your more tender side. He honestly thought that you took your job a little too seriously. You were always on edge, as if ready to pounce at danger at any given moment. You were always thinking about his safety. Always checking and double checking the area to make sure it was clear before he could walk in. Always looking through his room in case someone was hiding within the curtains or under his bed. Always making sure he was safe. He hope to see this side of you more in the coming days.

But ever since you took up this job, Zuko noticed his sleep improving, even if they were minor improvements. Just knowing that you were there to protect him was enough to quiet his nightmares and worries. He smiles fondly above you, mentally making a note to thank Suki later. After all, she was the one who recommended you for the job.

As Zuko watches you observe the turtleducks fondly, Zuko realizes that he, too, would do anything to protect you.

#atla zuko x reader #zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #zuko x you #firelord zuko x reader

550 notes · View notes

little-mad · 3 years

Text

Little Jackpot Pt. 2

~ Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~

In an instant Ambry was up in the air, hovering cautiously above the table she’d just been sitting on. “Who are you?” She demanded.

The stranger’s eyes didn’t leave Ambry for a moment, even as he shut the front door behind him. She didn’t like the way he looked at her, it was as if he was staring at some kind of precious artifact. “My name is Kole.” The man stated, a smile still planted on his face. “Although I’m guessing that’s not really what you want to know, little pixie.”

Ambry’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t like this Kole guy’s tone one bit. And it was becoming increasingly clear that he wasn’t some friend or associate of Sebastian’s. Which meant he was an intruder, most likely a thief come to try and acquire some of Sebastian’s more valuable magical items. “You need to get out now.” She growled, hands balling into fists at her sides.

Kole took a few steps further into the room, causing Ambry’s body to tense up immediately. “I can’t do that, not after I waited so patiently for the perfect moment to come in.” He said smoothly.

Ambry raised a questioning eyebrow. “Why not wait until the house was empty if you were itching to rob the place?” She asked. “Unless you’re not as smooth a criminal as you think you are and neglected to realize your target has a companion.”

A low laugh came from the intruder. “Well that’s easy.” He said with a smirk. “I’m not here to steal some of your witch’s trinkets, I’m here for you.”

A chill ran down Ambry’s spine at those words. What had been the first thing Kole had said upon entering the house? ‘There you are’ right as his eyes landed on her. This wasn’t a robbery, this was a kidnapping.

“What the hell do you want with me?” She hissed. At first she wondered if he was after her pixie dust. But she quickly dismissed that idea. Pixie dust may be valuable, but Ambry knew it was plentiful enough that there really wasn’t a black market for it. So then why take the risk of pissing off a witch by abducting his companion?

Kole raised a finger as he began to make his way even closer to Ambry. “Ah, I see your witch friend decided not to tell you.” He mused, stopping a few feet away from the coffee table.

Ambry flew back a few inches further from the man. “Tell me what?” She asked through gritted teeth.

Kole chuckled. “Your wings, they’re worth a small fortune.” Ambry’s eyebrows shot up. Her wings? She had never once heard anything about pixie wings being worth anything. A pixie’s wings were a part of their body. It was bizarre, like telling a human their arm was especially valuable. “You see, pixie wings are the key ingredient in the most powerful healing potion ever created.” Kole continued. “Of course the Council banned the potion a long time ago, but there are certain people who are more than willing to bend the rules to obtain such a potent concoction.”

‘Key ingredient?’ ‘Healing potion’? How had Sebastian never told her about any of this? Surely he must have known, the guy was basically a walking encyclopedia of magic knowledge.

“Considering you pixies so rarely stray from your isolated little civilizations, a pixie wing potion hasn’t been brewed in who knows how long.” Kole remarked. “But when I caught wind that a local witch had gotten himself a pixie for a companion, well I couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that.”

Ambry had heard enough. In a flash she zipped over to the small potted plant sitting on the entertainment center. All it took was her fingertips grazing one of the leaves for her to establish a connection with the organism.

All magical beings were connected to a specific branch of the Mageum. Creatures such as ghosts and ghouls were connected to the Spirit Sphere. Werewolves, harpies, and the like were connected to the Animal Sphere, and so on. As for pixies, they were connected to the Earth Sphere. This meant that their magic was derived from the earth itself. This allowed them to manipulate the natural features of the earth with just a touch. And it was with this ability that Ambry intended to defend herself.

In an instant, a thick green vine shot out of the once tame houseplant. The tendril kept growing rapidly until it had snaked its way around Kole’s right arm. Before the man could attempt to use his other arm to free himself, an offshoot of the first vine launched itself at his left arm, quickly giving it the same treatment as the right.

A look of frustration flashed on Kole’s face momentarily before his eyes focused back in on Ambry. He gave a dry chuckle. “Well aren’t you a wily one.” He stood there, immobilized but looking completely at ease. It sent a shiver across Ambry’s skin. He looked plenty stuck but why risk leaving him bound only by his arms?

Ambry adjusted her grip on the plant, ready to send another vine for Kole’s legs, but she never got the chance. Suddenly the man’s arms ignited into red and yellow flames. Ambry gasped, only able to watch as the fire quickly burnt away the vines and yet miraculously left the clothing and skin of Kole’s arms completely undamaged.

So he was a witch. Ambry should have guessed given how effortlessly he’d broken into the house. This was bad, very bad. He wasn’t just some standard human thug. That she could handle on her own just fine. But a witch, not to mention a witch who seemed quite adept at wandless magic, was a whole other ballpark.

If there was one thing Ambry hated it was backing down. She was as stubborn as a mule and hated to lose. However, she knew when she was outmatched. She was dealing with a surprise attack from an unknown opponent who had clearly come prepared. Her best bet was to flee while she had the chance.

Not wasting a moment, Ambry darted towards the open door to Sebastian’s bedroom. The window had been left open a crack, just enough room for her to squeeze through. However, before she could make it past the door frame, a blast of blue energy abruptly enveloped her. The moment the energy made contact with her, she felt every muscle in her body go rigid. In an instant she had gone from flying to plummeting uncontrollably to the floor.

Ambry couldn’t even close her eyes to stop herself from seeing the fast approaching ground. It wasn’t too high of a drop, she wouldn’t die, but she had little doubt that she’d end up with at least one broken limb. But before her body could collide violently with the hardwood floor, a massive hand suddenly shot out underneath her. Ambry dropped easily into the palm and the moment she made contact with the warm skin she found her body freed from the magic that had been holding it immobile.

Before she even had the chance to adjust to lying on a giant palm, the hand holding her began to shift. Ambry let out a sharp yelp as long fingers began to snake their way around her body, not stopping until the pixie was held firmly in Kole’s fist.

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #g/t story #g/t community #trahb #sebastian altalune #ambry #ocs #my writing #g/t fearplay

31 notes · View notes

firefly-in-darkness · 4 years

Text

Misconceptions - 1/12

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Y/N & Sam Wilson (briefly).

Summary: Bucky Barnes overhears a conversation that he shouldn’t have...

Word Count: 2k.

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, jealousy...

Beta: The always lovely, Stacey - @princessmisery666 // all mistakes are my own.

A/N: This is one started as a dream and after bouncing ideas around with Stacey & Bee @negans-lucille-tblr, this was born and half way through writing I knew it would be more than a one shot.... Hope you enjoy - I love hearing your feedback too!

Series List

Firefly’s Library & Masterlist

Bucky glared at the mirror, he didn’t like wearing a suit or attending parties. He’d rather be out of sight, watching from a distance. Not chaperoning Y/N on a recon mission. He adjusted the bowtie, it still looked wonky. He gruffed at his reflection, put on the jacket and pulled through his shirt sleeves, letting the cufflinks glisten against the black velvet.

Once he placed the earpiece in, he left his room in the hotel suite and wandered over to knock on Y/N’s door. He faltered at the sound of her sweet voice floating through.

“I just wish you were here.” He heard her soft sigh, could see the way she’d twist the end of her hair in between her fingers.

Bucky strained to hear the other side of the conversation but even his super soldier hearing couldn’t work out who was at the other end of the phone call. His heart raced at the thought of Y/N wanting to be with someone else. Not with him, her supposed best friend.

“I’m worried about how he’ll react.”

He scoffed, clamping his hand over his mouth and steadied his breathing in the hope she hadn’t heard him outside.

He stepped away, knowing it wasn’t a good idea to listen in then he heard a giggle and muffled words, he leant his ear to the door.

“I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s driving me crazy.”

Bucky felt sick. She’s fallen for someone that isn’t him. His mind swirled with anger, or was it jealousy?. He pulled away from the door, fingers running through his now shorter strands of hair. He couldn’t hear anymore but his heart panged at her last three words.

“Love you too.”

Jealousy was similar to anger but what he felt now was definitely jealousy.

He bolted from the hotel suite without a second thought.

Ten minutes earlier….

Y/N spritzed the perfume across her collarbone, dabbing a bit behind her ear and her wrists. A quick glance to the mirror brought a smile to her lips; for once she was able to wear something glamorous. She checked her up-do was still in place, admiring how such an easy few pins could create an elegant look. The off-the-shoulder black dress sparkled in the light, she twisted and almost giggled as the floor length gown swirled around her legs, the split exposing her smooth, unarmed thigh.

Finally, she was able to hang up her catsuit and its attached gadgets and weapons for the night. Well, she still had a pistol strapped to her other thigh, obscured by the skirt and of course the knives concealed in her heels. It might be a reconnaissance mission but things could always escalate.

Her smile faltered as she remembered the man in his own part of the suite, getting ready to support her in the mission; James Buchanan Barnes.

Her phone ringing gripped her attention, a selfie of Sam and herself pulling silly faces was lighting up her phone. She pounced on it and held the device to her ear with her shoulder whilst she checked the blades were secure in her heels.

“Hi baby girl,” His smooth voice sent a grin to her face.

“Hey handsome.” She crooned back.

“How are you?” He tentatively asked.

She took the phone away from her shoulder, standing and smoothing the skirt. “I'm okay. This bed is huge.”

“You're changing the subject.” Sam scolded her.

Y/N knew that his eyebrow had quirked upwards and winced. Of course, he was checking up on her because of her mission partner.

“I don't know if I can handle this mission with him.” She sighed and sat back down in the chair, gliding the pendant of her necklace along its chain.

“Yes you can, it's only a recon mission. He's your back up.” Sam’s voice altered to that of her superior.

“I just wish you were here.” Y/N whined, and if she hadn’t refrained herself she might have stomped her foot.

Sam’s tone remained strong, not settling for her tantrum. “He's best qualified for this and you know it.”

“Yeah, you're right. it's one night.” She whispered.

“You still haven't told him have you?” Sam’s voice softened.

Y/N began pacing back and forth in front of the floor to ceiling window before heading back towards the door, “I don't know how to tell him. I’m worried about how he’ll react.”

He huffed, “Seriously! Go to his room right now and tell him how you feel.”

Y/N’s stomach lurched at his demand, “I can't. Not yet. He’s my friend and if I tell him this, it will make things awkward.”

“You know you need to tell him. Try it on me first. I can pretend to be the tin man, let me get into

Character. Dark and brooding. Grumpy old man.”

She took a seat at the dressing table, a giggle falling from her lipsticked mouth, “Stop it. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Go on, hit me with your best line.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, and sighed, “I can't stop thinking about you and it's driving me crazy.”

“Yes, a little basic but whatever, now go tell him. If you don't then I will when you get back.” Sam chuckled.

She stood as apprehension filled her thoughts, alongside her fear of being rejected, “Don't you dare, this needs to come from me.”

“Okay sugar, good luck, text me. Love ya”

“Love you too” With her phone locked, she placed it into the clutch bag that complimented her outfit.

Y/N’s head spun as she heard the suite door close, eyebrows furrowed as to why Bucky had left without her. She gathered her skirt and followed after him, in the hope to catch up with him before they entered the gala.

Y/N was not in luck, she entered the party alone. Even though her mind was reeling with uncertainty, she held her head high as she weaved amongst the guests and those carrying trays of canapes. Her eyes flickered around the room, trying to catch sight of Bucky but kept being distracted by others attempting to make conversation about their businesses, charity donations and anything that made them seem better people than they really were.

Their mark appeared and Bucky was beside him with his back to her, a blonde woman draped on his arm. Y/N’s heart dropped into your stomach, and it churned at the sight of his arm wrapping around the strange woman’s waist and hand gliding down her back to grip her bottom. Her eyes went back up to their faces, focusing on whether or not this was a distraction technique from Bucky.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes.” She whispered into the comms.

Y/N’s dress swished around her feet as she darted across the room, glancing back to see Bucky watching her; his lips on the rim of his whiskey glass, eyes dark and jaw set tightly before he turned back to the woman. She shook her head at his lack of response and carried on towards the double doors leading to the elevator. A bodyguard stood to the side and she tripped straight into him.

“Oh my, I am so sorry.” She fluttered her eyes and let out a soft giggle, “I think it’s time for me to go to bed.”

“No worries ma’am,” He lifted her upright, a grin on his lips as he drank in the sight of her exposed cleavage and doe eyes.

She clutched his arm as he guided her to the door, her other hand unhooking the access card from his belt.

“Let me get the door for you, Miss, take it easy.”

Y/N sauntered through, nodding as she passed him. Entering the elevator and giving him a small wave. She pressed the door close button before she swiped the stolen card against the penthouse access pad.

As the elevator ascended, she sunk against the metal wall, flicking her skirt to the side and unhooking the glock from it’s holster on her thigh. She checked the magazine, clicking back in place with the palm of her hand. The doors opened with a chime and she entered, gun raised while her eyes took in her surroundings. Not much had changed since she visited two weeks ago, learning the layout and setting up the bugs to gain an insight on the criminal.

Without hesitation, she strode down the corridor to the study and rolled her eyes as she pushed the door open. Not even locked, this is too easy. She rounded the desk, opening the lid of the laptop and entered the password. A smug smirk accompanied the wink she sent to the camera hidden in the bookcase knowing Sam was watching back at base.

She pulled out the lipstick from her clutch, taking off the lid to reveal the hidden USB drive. Plugging it into the laptop and downloading it’s contents. Y/N crossed her arms and tapped her foot waiting for the green bar to fill but it was painfully slow.

“Are you ready to get out of here?” Her eyes widened as she heard Bucky’s voice through the ear piece. The sultry tone made her freeze from removing the USB stick.

“Okay, one more dance and then I’ll show you a real good time.” His words sent pangs through her chest.

A giggle drifted around your mind, they must have been inches away from one another.

“Oh Doll, don’t tease me like that. We don’t want anyone to see.” The term of endearment and the image of what they could be doing brought tears to Y/N’s eyes.

She ripped the ear piece out and threw it into her clutch. A quick glance to the camera, she shook her head, knowing Sam had also heard what was happening. She detached the drive, leaving the penthouse and striding back to their suite as quickly as possible.

Y/N marched into her room, kicking off her heels and began attempting to get out of her dress. The zip getting caught, a frustrated groan rumbled through her body. She clambered at the tag, and eventually was able to pull it down her back and let it drop, pooling at her feet. Stepping out of it as she pulled the pins from her hair, letting it cascade down her back.

Once Y/N had put on her pj top and shorts, she grabbed her wash bag and headed into the bathroom. She brushed through her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail, removed her makeup and moisturised her face, focusing on the repetitive motion of massaging her cheeks. But then the tears began to fall, they were hot on her cheeks and her breath dragged harshly through her lungs, almost choking on the sob. She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand.

As Y/N rinsed her mouth and put her toothbrush back in it’s case, she heard the sounds of laughter and stomping outside. Even though she felt sick at the sound of their happiness, she yanked the door open and walked out the bathroom. Y/N found them, bodies backed against the wall, in a state of undress; Bucky’s bowtie was hanging loose, the shirt open and his pants discarded down the hallway and her in a tiny lace set that didn’t leave anything to the imagination.

“Oh, who’s this?” The high pitch squeak from Bucky’s companion grated Y/N’s nerves.

Bucky spun around, “Oh that’s just a friend. Staying in the other room.”

Y/N stormed past him to her room. She heard the laughter pick up and the door shut to his bedroom. The giggles began to drift into moans and she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it. She plugged in her earphones to her cell and blasted the music whilst she filled the cabin bag with her belongings as quickly as she could.

With a quickly scrawled note on a napkin, placed on the bed for Bucky to find in the morning, she left the hotel without a second thought.

Continue Here...

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes Fanfic #Bucky Barnes Angst #Angst #Marvel Fanfic #Marvel #Fanfic

727 notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Dark AU: The Problem

In an alternative universe where @untilthepainstarts‘s Lev married (and murdered) Martin, his captor, only to prove a thoughtful, fascinating criminal mastermind... in a timeline where @whumpiary‘s Cass becomes Cassius Bergen, who takes over the Estate after Christopher Bergen goes mysteriously missing... so there is also a Kauri.

Friendly, charming, engaging, flirtatious, this Kauri is a live-in stray at the Bergen Estate, known to come and go as he pleases. He spends an awful lot of time in Cassius Bergen’s office, and rumor has it he’s not in there to perform administrative duties.

Dot, Nell, and I have had fun along with our group of friends talking out the idea of the Dark AU, and honestly, I couldn’t resist seeing where Kauri might fit into it. I even wrote a thing, which I have been given permission to share here!

So, without further mucking about trying to explain it... here is Dark Kauri. Just sit back and enjoy the pretty.

---

CW: Referenced past noncon and pet whump, hints of fucky headspace regarding spice, some low-level spiciness (like PG-13), conditioned behavior

“Take it off.”

“Mmn… no.” Cass kept his head tilted to the side, watching Kauri stand frozen in the doorway, one hand resting lightly on the frame. Lithe and willowy, the Bergen Estate’s fascinating, gorgeous semi-permanent ward looked every inch the gangster’s moll today. Impeccably dressed, like Cass himself.

Cass wore a black suit over a deep purple pinstriped button up loosely unbuttoned just enough to show off the wide-banded black satin choker he wore around his neck.

The choker was what Kauri’s eyes were locked on, slightly widened.

“Take it off, Cass.” Kauri’s voice caught this time, just slightly, and Cass felt like a shark smelling blood in the water. He could feel the way Kauri’s wants poured out of him, a waterfall of nerves and fear and dark places he was desperate to keep hiding from. “I mean it.”

“Lev’s coming over later, you know,” Cass said, voice light and airy. The blade he cut with, in moments like this, was nearly invisibly thin.

Kauri bled, just the same, whenever and however Cass wanted him to, and somehow he never ran away, no matter how hard Cass tried to push him.

Mostly, he didn’t. Mostly he liked being a safe place for Kauri in a world that had very few of them. But some days Cass felt restless, angry, hungry to prove to Kauri and everyone else that he was exactly the monster he should be.

One day he’d find the thing that chased Kauri away.

Today, he was trying this.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” Cass gave Kauri a half-cocked grin, beautiful poison, crooked two fingers to ask him to come closer even as he wanted to say, Run away this time and stay gone, it’s only what I deserve.

Some of the fear settled, and Cass felt the pulse of his desires begin to shift, to change. Kauri didn’t have what Cass had, but he could read some things, too, in his own way. Instead of turning to leave, Kauri braced himself and stepped forward, moving across the room with each step placed with careless grace. “What? You want me to ask if Lev Viklund-Reid will like your collar, Cass? After he had to wear one?”

“Yeah.” Kauri stopped next to his chair and Cass swung it around to face him, legs apart, sitting back and looking up at Kauri, head tilted. “I want to know if he’ll like my collar. Saw it in a shop two days ago and it made me think of you. And him.”

Kauri’s face didn’t change, but Cass could feel the way his desires twisted, shifted, became darker and started to turn on themselves. Anger, justifiable and justified on every level, was there. But stronger than the anger…

“You want to put one on me, Cass?” Kauri asked, and his voice was low, too deep for how pretty he was, as he moved forward to stand briefly framed on either side by Cass’s suit pant-clad legs. Then he climbed up into the chair, straddling him, the pressure where their hips met entirely too pleasant.

This… wasn’t quite what Cass had expected him to do. “... no, Kauri,” He admitted, and some of the easy confidence was lost, in that moment. The power balance shifted as Kauri rocked his hips forward, rolling them, as his hands laid flat on Cass’s stomach over his shirt and then slid slowly up.

Kauri took over, somehow, in the way his body could light Cass up without even touching bare skin.

Cass cleared his throat. “This isn’t-... Wasn’t my plan.”

Kauri laughed, low and husky, and the spikes of disgust generously ladled over the darker wants that curled around the two of them were heady, making Cass feel half-drunk and outmatched. “What was your plan, then?”

Hands traveled slowly upward, skimming to the sides under his suit jacket to press against his ribs through the silky-smooth fabric of his shirt. They paused over his chest, pressed against his collarbone and then around behind his neck. He felt his curly hair, soft against Kauri’s hands, shift over his neck as he met the warm, wide blue eyes of a runaway pet, someone else’s escaped whore.

Cass knows the feeling, although he didn’t escape - he became the whoremaster instead. Sort of. Sometimes it felt like being whoremaster, trying to hold the Bergen Estate together.

Sometimes, though, Kauri looked at him like this and Cass felt less like he had control and more like Kauri could have shredded him and he might have thanked him for the touch.

“...I wanted to hurt you,” He admitted, not sure why he spoke the words out loud when he didn’t mean to speak them at all. “And Lev. Wanted to see if I could.”

Kauri rolled his hips forward, and the pressure coiled heat low in Cass’s belly, setting the constant low pulse of arousal he felt nearly every time Kauri entered a room into a flame. He hadn’t even felt the pet undo the choker’s little buckle at the back of his neck, blinking in surprise at the feel of the satin sliding away, leaving his neck bare.

“You’d only hurt me if you put it on me,” Kauri said, voice low, husky, warm with need. He held up the strip of silky cloth right in front of Cass’s eyes and tore the buckle off the end in a sudden burst of violence, dropping it with a clatter onto Cassius’s desk.

His smile widened even as Cass felt his smile returning. “I wouldn’t, you know, Kauri.”

“Wouldn’t what?” Kauri knew the answer, but still wanted to hear it out loud. Cass could respect that.

“Collar you. I would never collar you, you know that.”

“Do I know that?”

“Yes.” Cass’s voice cracked, caught, and he repeated, insistent, “Yes, you do.”

“You might, one day, if you wanted someone to see you do it. I’d let you, too.” Kauri shrugged, seemingly unmoved, even as Cass felt the stir of fear that ran through him and around him, half-buried by want for other things but still there, a thread he could pull, unravel, undo if he wanted.

He wanted. And Kauri knew it.

Cass stared with a mouth suddenly too dry for speech as Kauri simply bent himself over backwards, his knees still on either side of Cass’s thighs, and arched his back until he was looking upside down at the industrial-strength shredder Cass kept next to his desk, reaching one arm out while the other went palm-flat to the floor.

Cass’s hands moved fast to grip onto Kauri’s hips and hold him steady as the other man fed the band of shining black satin, torn at one end where the buckle had been, into the shredder. It kicked on automatically, a high roaring whine as it fought to destroy threads instead of paper.

Kauri’s position was nearly obscene, his own growing hardness pressing against Cass’s, shirt riding up to show a flash of pale skin. Cass wanted suddenly to lick his way up or down and he wasn’t sure which or if he would ever stop once he started.

He could see the faintest outline of a bruise along one hip showing above the waistband of Kauri’s pants, his own teeth indented there in a deeper purple surrounded by red and yellow. Biting down had made Kauri scream for more.

If his mouth had been dry before, it became the fucking Sahara when the shredder finished its work and Kauri’s stomach muscles tightened, simply rolling himself back up, curving back to sitting in Cass’s lap again.

He leaned forward, sliding his arms around Cass’s neck, mouth moving against his ear. His teeth nipped lightly at Cass’s earlobe as he whispered, “I’ll wear anything and nothing you want me to wear, Cass, but I won’t let you collar yourself. Now fuck me before Lev gets here or don’t fuck me at all today.”

When Lev arrived, Cass was seated right behind his desk, his shirt wrinkled and suit jacket misbuttoned, half-cocked grin right back on his face, a red mark blossoming along the right side of his neck.

Kauri answered the door for Viklund-Reid with a flush in his face and a swollen look to his lips as he held out his hand. His sweater was on backwards and inside-out. It might have looked accidental, if you didn’t know Kauri.

Which Viklund-Reid didn’t, although he didn’t look surprised, either.

Lev looked to Cass first, eyebrow raised, and he only shrugged in return, giving him a rakish, devil-may-care grin. “Have you met Kauri, yet, Viklund-Reid?”

“I haven’t,” Lev responded, voice warm and slightly lilting, shaking Kauri’s hand without the faint curl of his lip in disgust that some of the others did, either unbothered or just incredibly polite. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”

Kauri shot him a smile, sunny and winning, and leaned up to kiss Lev on the cheek, fingertips sliding down the lapel of his suit. “You will,” He murmured against the faintest hint of stubble on Lev’s skin, and then moved past him out the door.

Lev and Cass both stared, for a second, in silence at the slight sway of his hips before the ex-pet disappeared around a bend in the hall. Cass let himself soak up the hint of Lev’s desires in the air - they weren’t too far off from his own, although Lev’s were far subtler, buried.

Lev turned back, pressing invisible wrinkles out of his suit. “Are we going to have a problem?”

“Nope,” Cass responded, sunny and bright. He felt a low throb at the spot where shoulder and neck met, a growing hickey that would be a dark bruise by night. He was surprised they hadn’t heard him react to that out in the hall. “What possible problem could there be?”

Lev gave Cass a flat stare and said dryly, “I think I see why you couldn’t wait until after my visit.”

“Wait for what?” Cass asked, innocently.

“Bergen-“

The shredder kicked on, surprising them both as it spat out the last few black satin threads into the trash bin below it. Cass slid the collar’s broken buckle, with its bit of tattered fabric clinging to it, carefully into one pocket.

#erase to control au #dark timeline #dark timeline au #Cass the Disaster Lad #lev is my favorite #whumpiary #untilthepainstarts #referenced past noncon #referenced past pet whump #collaring #super fucky headspace regarding spice #consensual spice tw #but like only a little bit #like a hint of paprika spice

75 notes · View notes

eryiss · 4 years

Text

Chapter Three: ACTION

Summary: The Justine's were always a criminal family. The Dreyar's were forced into it due to prohibition. After gaining power and influence in the criminal world, the families were forced into a fragile truce. This was until the recently disowned Freed Justine arrived at Laxus Dreyar's door, demanding a job in exchange for information that could bring his family down. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as part of the Mashima’s Heroes Big Bang, hosted by @ft-ez-bb. I have been paired up with the wonderful @fairiesherefairiesthere, who's made this great piece of art. Remember to give them lots of love.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter Three – Action

~Four Days Later~

Freed loved music, he was almost addicted to it.

He was not a materialistic man, and if the situation called for it he could probably live his life out of a suitcase. But the one exception to that minimalistic lifestyle came in the form of his fondness for music.

This was evident in how he decorated his boarding house. Though the walls were mainly bare, he had many sideboards and shelves filled with the near hundreds of records that he had collected over the years, all of which he had listened to many times. In the centre of the room sat the large armchair which he lounged in, with the expensive gramophone sitting on the table beside it. Beside his bed lay the empty sleeve of the record he was currently listening to, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling as the soft sound of a smooth jazz band tickled his ears.

Music was good for many things, distraction being one of them.

Because, whenever he had allowed his mind to wonder over the past few days, his emotions had overthrown him. It was a mixture of anger, resentment, and annoyance at what Laxus had said to him four nights prior. The patronising insistence that Laxus should be the one saving Freed, despite Laxus being in much more danger than Freed had been, had more than ruffled him.

But of course Laxus wouldn't admit that. No, because Laxus was apparently the type of man who needed to prove himself in violent situations. Freed had assumed as much, but had hoped that Laxus would show him enough respect as to not treat him like a victim when he wasn't. But Laxus had condescended him, treated him as if he were the only person in danger, and disregarded the fact Freed had been the one to get them both out of the bar. For god's sake he'd done it without anyone on their side getting hurt, that was almost unheard of in those situations. It had ended as well as it could have, and Laxus had yelled at him like he was a teenager caught drinking.

There was also a touch of guilt when he thought back. He shouldn't have mocked Laxus for freezing up. Freed had done the same thing when first threatened with death. That had been cruel.

Hence, a distraction was welcome.

The sound of music filling his room was complimented by the heavy rain battering against the windows. Every few minutes, a crackle of lightning erupted across the sky, light slipping through his closed curtains. Freed had always been fond of storms, and so when his record ran to an end he didn't move, listening to the weather outside.

He nearly drifted off, yawns overtaking him until a slight clinking sound cut through the thunder and rain.

Then another. And another.

Freed stood up slowly, eyes fluttering open and blinking to get his attention back in the real world. The clinking sound was coming from his window, so he drew back the curtains and searched for the cause. After a moment, his eyes fell on the street below, and standing there was the familiar figure of Laxus Dreyar.

He stood on the sidewalk outside of Freed's boarding house, illuminated by the streetlamp above him, in a state of disrepute that Freed had not seen from the man. He looked a mess. The heavy rain was beating down on him, the suit he wore now sodden and his hair pressing against his head rather than styled with thick oil as it normally was. He looked up towards Freed, and his expression lacked the usual subtle confidence that he showed others. Freed looked down at him for a moment, before sighing, closing the curtains and walking to the door.

He climbed down the stairs, checked that Porlyusica was asleep, and unlocked the front door to the building. He looked outside to see Laxus retreating, apparently having thought Freed's closed curtains were a dismissal.

"Laxus," He said over the sound of the rain, staying in the doorframe as not to get wet. The blonde turned, saw Freed, and jogged to the open door. "What are you doing here?"

"Wanted to see you," Laxus said in explanation, voice a little hesitant. "You ain't been at the tavern."

That was true, Freed had not gone to work for the past four days. Not only did he not want a reminder of why he was angry, he also wanted to make sure he wouldn't do anything he regretted. Freed could be guilty of letting his anger known, and he couldn't risk antagonising Laxus further when he was still reliant on him. Yelling at him in the alleyway was one thing, but if his anger ignited during work hours and he said something regrettable, Laxus could easily fire him, and rightfully so. Staying away from him had seemed to be the smart thing to do.

Looking at Laxus now, a glimmer of the anger ignited, though not as much as he expected. Perhaps it was because Laxus had lost all his bravado, with the rain taking away any impressive façade. The humble expression he wore also seemed to calm Freed slightly.

"Look," Laxus continued. "I need to apologise to you. About what I… could I do this inside? If you don't mind?"

Freed thought for a moment. It would be easy to let the man remain out here, soaking him to the bone as a form of petty revenge. But he wasn't that childish.

"I suppose. Be quiet though, my landlady doesn't like guests."

Laxus nodded, and Freed stepped to the side to let him in. He closed the door, guided Laxus to his upstairs room and allowed him entrance. He closed the door, walking to the washroom and picking up a towel for Laxus to dry himself off as best he could. When he looked to Laxus, the blonde was glancing around at Freed's room with a passive expression.

When he turned to look at Freed, he smiled in thanks at the offered towel. He patted his face down with it, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes, before looking around again. He seemed a little lost, and Freed sighed as he sat in his armchair.

"You said you wanted to talk?" Freed suggested.

"Yeah, I did," Laxus agreed, a slight stumble in his tone. Freed remained quiet. "Look, what happened, I weren't in my right mind, I guess I was… I was scared I suppose. Adrenaline rush maybe, I dunno. But well, what I'm trying to say is, the way I treated you wasn't… It was unfair to you, disrespectful. So I thought that I should apologise to you, which is what I'm doing."

Freed chuckled slightly at the fumbling of his words. "And you're doing very well."

"Yeah, words ain't my biggest talent," Laxus sighed, pacing. "Look, you could've died. I was scared that you'd get shot, and you kept taunting them and it was making things worse and-"

"Laxus, those men wouldn't kill me," Freed said calmly. "My father sent them to collect me, not to get rid of me; they would have shot me on sight if they wanted. The worst they would have done is beaten me a little, but the guns would never have been used, and we all knew it. So getting their attention on me was the best way to get you out of harm's way."

"I know. I know that," Laxus conceded, rubbing his face in annoyance. "But after it happened I wasn't thinking straight, and I kept thinking that they might have shot. That all the taunting and teasing you were doing was gonna push one of them over the edge and they were gonna shoot even if they didn't mean to. And I kept thinking about what would happen if they did shoot ya, and then I got pissed because you were fucking goading them into it, and I wouldn't have been able to stop them if they did anything."

"Laxus," Freed spoke carefully, but purposefully. "I don't need protection."

"You don't, I know. It was just… I panicked I guess. Acted out because I didn't wanna see you get hurt," Laxus shook his head a little self-deprecatingly. "I'm sorry. You're a proud man, and you're competent to. I should have known that, and not acted like you weren't. I'm… I'm really sorry, Freed."

The apology lay stagnant in the air.

Freed looked at Laxus, and his expression really was earnest. He suspected that apologies didn't come easy to Laxus – something they'd have in common if true – and so to come here and be more vulnerable than he was comfortable with was commendable. It would be very easy to forgive him then and there, especially because Freed wasn't faultless in the situation, but Freed cut himself off before speaking.

Earnestness from Laxus was rare, as was the lack of his bravado. And Freed wanted to take the chance to talk while he had it.

He stood up, and rather than saying anything, he reached for a record from one of his many shelves. He took it from its sleeve, placed it atop the gramophone, and allowed the soft, slow music to start playing. Laxus had watched him as he moved and when Freed turned to him, he looked at him questioningly.

"Dance with me," Freed requested, offering a hand. Laxus hesitated, so Freed smiled slightly. "I'll let you lead, if you want."

Laxus glanced down at Freed's outstretched hand for a moment, before stepping forward and taking it. Freed met him in the middle, their bodies lighting grazing one another. Freed wrapped an arm around Laxus' waist, and found Laxus' arm doing the same.

They both took a moment to get used to the feeling. Laxus was in his arms, wrapped up in his grasp and looking down at him with an expression that was downright soft. The cold wetness of his clothing was forgotten, and Freed couldn't help but note just how large a man Laxus was. He was firm, unmoving, and yet had a softness to him that could only be shown through his eyes. They stared at one another for a moment before they both began to sway in time to the music.

Neither spoke, and Freed rested his forehead against the blonde's shoulders as the soft piano tune filled his ears. The dampened scent of Laxus' cologne hit Freed's nose, and he smiled a little at the familiarity of it. He felt the slight level of tenseness in Laxus' posture loosen, and he couldn't help but smile further at it.

"I must say," Freed spoke softly, looking to Laxus again. "You're awfully comfortable dancing with a man, I half expected you to be stiff as a board."

"Well, you ain't the first man that I've danced with," Laxus shrugged, and the look he gave Freed was a weighty one. Freed kept his gaze for a moment. "But I ain't danced with a man quite like you before. Don't think I've known a man like you before."

"Should I be insulted?"

"No."

They continued swaying in each other's arms, the music soft and melodic and a perfect complement to the mood. Freed found himself trapped in the other man's gaze, and he felt that Laxus might be in the same situation. Freed didn't care, because in that moment he couldn't think of any better state he could be in.

Laxus was smiling at him now, and Freed tried to remember when he'd last been in a situation like this. Being softly intimate with a handsome charming man who looked at him like Laxus did. With a soft, vulnerable expression. He couldn't remember anyone looking at him like that.

"So," Freed began after a moment. "I'll be blunt. If you could, would you want to court me Laxus?"

Laxus thought for a moment. "Who said I can't?"

"The law."

"The law also says that I can't sell booze, I do that," Laxus smiled down a little at Freed, and the pianist felt his heartbeat quicken ever so slightly. "Bullshit laws don't apply to me. And if you really think that all the shit I've done for you wasn't some attempt at getting your attention, then you're stupider than I give you credit for."

So, Freed's assumption had been correct then. Good.

As had the teasing form all the workers in Fairy Tail, but Freed couldn't think about that right now. He looked up at Laxus with a gentle, uncynical expression, and he felt Laxus' grip around him pull him slightly closer.

"So the opera?" Freed asked. "It was a date of sorts, then?"

"Well, I ain't taking anyone else out for dinner," Laxus shrugged, and the statement was as good as admission. He sighed a little, before speaking again. "I didn't say it, even if I should have, but I kinda started to… fuck this is hard."

"Take your time," Freed said softly.

"I'm crap with words, Freed," Laxus admitted. "Not just words, emotional shit too. It messes me up, I get scared of it. I know you're probably used to men who wear their hearts of their sleeves, and can write poetry for you off the cuff and make you swoon. But when I think about talking about what I'm feeling I get… it's like I shut off," He sighed, and Freed remained quiet. "It makes things harder, y'know. Probably would've been easier if I just said I wanted to take you out because I liked you; not just hoping you'd figure it out. I tried to, a few times, but whenever I did I just froze. It ain't easy for me, stuff like this."

"You're doing well," Freed said gently, and Laxus gave him a small, thankful smile.

"What I'm trying to say is, if we do… if the two of us try and, y'know, make something of us," Laxus cringed at his own words. "I can't be romantic like other men can. I can't do sweeping romantic stuff, it ain't me. If I feel something for ya, I'd show you with what I did, rather than what I said. I mean, I can be emotional, just takes time for me," He looked at the floor for a moment. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, if we tried… if we took the next step, I might not be like the guys you've been with before. I ain't gonna turn into a poet for you."

Freed took a moment to think, then smiled up at the man, removing his hand from Laxus' waist and placing it on his cheek.

"I don't need a poet, Laxus. Nor do I want one," Freed said softly. "All we can ask for, and all I want, is a good man. You are a good man Laxus, and if you show affection through your actions rather than through words, then that is just who you are," He stroked Laxus' jaw with a finger. "A poet is a liar and an exaggerator; a good man is honest. And you have always been honest."

"You sure?" Laxus muttered. "Because I know you come from more than me and-"

"Do not be self-deprecating, it's hardly like you. And whether or not you are worthy of me is my choice to make, and I've already done so," Freed said firmly. "Though I think I should ask, are you sure about me?"

"Why the hell wouldn't I be?" Laxus exclaimed.

"Because if my father finds out about us, he will want you dead," Freed claimed, tone quietly serious. "He sees me working with you as a betrayal, no doubt us getting together will send him into a rage. And he doesn't have the sentimentality to think twice about killing you."

"I don't give a shit," Laxus mumbled into Freed's ear.

"Well I do," Freed retorted firmly. "If he hurts you, it will be my fault. I will not allow that."

Ridiculously, Laxus cracked a smile. "So you're allowed to be protective, huh?"

"Take it seriously."

"I am," Laxus assured him. "The second he sent his men into the bar; I knew I'd have to deal with him. Not just for you, for everyone working for me. You come into my bar as a worker, you're my responsibility and I look after you. And I know that you're the expert in crime, but I ain't stupid. I know what kind of a man he is, and what he's capable of. But he has weaknesses somewhere, and I'm gonna exploit them and bring him down and he ain't gonna hurt you. I'm not gonna let that happen to you."

"I don't need you to-"

"Hey," Laxus cut him off, looking down at him with sincerity. "If we do this, if we get together, I will be protective of you. I will do what I can to keep you safe, I will yell at you if you get reckless, and if there's a choice between the two of us getting hurt, I will make sure it happens to me," He grabbed Freed's chin before he could protest. "And I'm not saying that you can't look after yourself, because you can. I'm just not the kinda man who can sit by if someone they care about is in danger. And I know for a fact that you'd do the same for me, so don't even think about arguing about it," Freed sighed. "I care about you a lot, so I worry. You can't change that."

"I thought you said you were bad with words," Freed chuckled. "But that was actually rather romantic, in an odd sense."

"Maybe you bring it out of me," Laxus shrugged a little.

The conversation mellowed slightly, and the music filled their ears again. It was still a soft piano tune, something that sweethearts would have danced to at the end of a high school dance, and Freed didn't stop the smile from flittering onto his face as he swayed in time with the beat. Laxus' arm was still wrapped around him, and he smiled at the man softly.

Laxus smiled back at him, and the eye contact was simultaneously gentle and incredibly intense, and Freed found himself enraptured by the sustained honesty in his eyes. Laxus' expression was without falseness, and he seemed entirely at piece.

It was perfect. Perfect.

With almost perfect synchronicity, they both slightly moved their heads forward. As they did, a thrumming ran though Freed, excited, and apprehensive in equal parts.

Slowly, he leant forward and kissed Laxus.

The feeling of Laxus' lips against his own was incredible. Freed tilted his head slightly at the tentative chaste kiss, eyes flickering to Laxus'. The look of wonder in the blonde's expression matched Freed's own, and again simultaneously then leant back into each other and kissed again, moving their lips slowly against one another.

Rain water still dampened Laxus' lips, acting to contrast against how chapped they were, and Freed relished the feeling. Laxus pulled him forward a little more, and the hand Freed held on Laxus' cheek stroked him gently again. The kiss was soft, almost cautious but had an undertone of passion that Freed found himself thrilled by. He leant into it, opening his mouth slightly and smiling as Laxus did the same, deepening their kiss. It was perfect, utterly perfect.

As the music stopped playing, the two men remained, kissing one another as the storm raged around them.

~Three Weeks Later~

For the first time in months, Fairy Tail had closed its doors.

It wasn't empty though. A small congregation had formed around one of the tables in the main hall, made up of Fairy Tail's more criminal members. Laxus sat at the head of the table, with Bickslow and Evergreen to his left, and Gajeel and Mirajane to his right, with Freed opposite. The gathered employees all wore serious expressions, listening as Laxus explained the situation to them.

The Justine Family were getting more aggressive now, blatantly so. Staff members had been followed home, threats had been made, and most recently Natsu and Gray had been attacked; though they'd given worse than they'd got. Laxus was done with the situation now.

"Are they that dedicated to getting Freed back?" Mirajane asked once Laxus finished speaking. "No offence meant, but that's quite a lot of effort for one man."

"We think it's more than that," Laxus sighed. "It's an image thing."

"Erik and Sawyer are some of my father's most respected men," Freed explained, the group looking towards him. "So to have them return without me, and with Sawyer having been shot, was something of a humiliation to them. They assumed it would be easy task, underestimated us, and that makes their failure much worse. And given that all a crime family really has is violence and image, being unable to prove either of them was a wound for them. They need to prove themselves by getting revenge on someone here. As well as getting me back simply to prove that they can do it, I suspect."

"So it's an ego thing, then?" Bickslow questioned, leaning on her hand. "Is it really that worth it?"

"If people stop being scared of them, then they stop respecting them," Freed shrugged a little. "If that happens then all the stakes they have in the criminal world begin to crumble. Smaller families and organisations get cocky, and try to overthrow them, and one might succeed. They see this as fighting for their lives, meaning they're dangerous."

"Which also means if we fight back against them, they'll be in more trouble and therefore more reckless," Evergreen concluded, clicking her teeth. "The more we back them in a corner, the more desperate they'll become."

"Indeed," Freed agreed, resignedly.

"We ain't just gonna bend over and let the bastard fuck with us though," Gajeel proclaimed, glaring at the table. "Because we all know they'll get cocky if we don't do anything. We're fucked either way, right?"

"What else can we do?" Bickslow sighed, leaning back in his chair.

They all remained silent, not meeting each other's eyes as they thought through possible responses to the situation. Laxus looked over his gathered employees, and the anger he was feeling at the situation fizzled inside of him. Because, as tempting as it was to just say they'd bring the fight to them, the Justine Family were not ones to be taken lightly. They were murderers and brutally good at it. So as much as Laxus wanted to storm into the family home with a pistol and shoot the fucker between the eyes, it would do no good.

But the people Laxus employed, his family, were getting attacked on the streets. Their privacy was being violated, their safety put into question, and their lives put on hold because of the danger they faced. Laxus couldn't accept that. He couldn't.

"We have to do something," Laxus stated firmly. "Something big, make 'em scared to fuck with us. Can't attack us if they're scared."

"Good," Gajeel agreed. "Take the fight to the fuckers."

"But we're not that kind of place," Mirajane objected. "I know that we can't just sit by and let them keep going, but they're a lot better prepared for this type of thing. We only have a handful of weapons, and only a few people who would be any good at using them. They've probably got a full armoury full of guns and everyone trained in how to use them. If we try anything violent then most likely we'd be slaughtered."

"They're not as impressive as you'd think," Freed offered. "We'd be at a massive disadvantage, yes. But a lot of their power comes from bravado. That's why they're so worried about their image, it's their main asset."

"No, Mira's right," Laxus sighed. "I ain't gonna lead people to slaughter. We can't start a gang war."

Again, nobody knew what else to say. Laxus groaned and ran a hand through his hair in frustration, standing up and pacing slightly to dispel some of the nervous energy that was building. The protective instinct that arose within him for his employees was overpowering, and every day his anger at the situation got worse. When Natsu and Gray had walked in the night before, scuffed up and bruised, Laxus had been near apoplectic. Had the two men not assured him their attackers were left bleeding in the alleyway, Laxus might have stormed form the tavern and towards the house where Freed's father lived to get revenge of his own.

But of course that was the issue. Because he had some sense of self preservation, and if he did confront the man on his own then he'd be shot before he did anything. And if he brought anyone with him, he'd be putting them in the firing line. That also couldn't happen.

"I have something of an idea," Freed said, almost cautiously. Everyone looked towards him. "I know that consorting with the law isn't the most typical thing for a speakeasy to so, but the police have been trying to take my father down for a while. And although it seems like it, they're not immune from prosecution. They're just good at hiding proof of their crimes, and bribing people in the right places."

"So we call the police on them?" Evergreen asked. "If they're as good at dodging them, would that do anything?"

"They might throw it back at us," Bickslow added, looking a little worried. "I mean, one officer here at night as we're all fucked."

"I understand that. Which is why, rather than simply calling the police on them, I believe we should create a dossier of their crimes. Enough irrefutable evidence that, if we were to anonymously hand it to a detective – a non-corrupt one of course – that they would deal with the problem for us," Freed explained, and the group seemed to consider it. "They're good at covering their actions, but not perfect. So long as we dedicate time to it, we can find the cracks in their armour and exploit them to our advantage."

"Could work," Laxus said, considering. "How d'you think we'd find anything from them, though? Not like we have access to anything they're doing."

"Well," Freed said, a little cautiously. Laxus frowned. "It makes sense to have a man inside. Someone seeing first-hand what they're doing, gathering evidence on them."

"Who'd be able to-" Laxus began, but paused. "No."

"It makes the most sense," Freed retorted, seriousness in his voice. "I know how the family works so I can start work immediately, there's already a level of trust with me, and I'd see signs of illegality that you all might miss, given I grew up with it. And him sending people to get me back says he might want me in the family again for whatever reason, so I wouldn't have work my way up like anyone else would. It makes sense"

"What if he wants to bring you back to make an example out of you!" Laxus exclaimed. "What if just wanna beat yer ass and break your knees to show what happens if you break his trust!"

Laxus wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't. Freed's father had sent armed men to get Freed only weeks ago, something that was hardly a piece offering. Over the weeks he'd got more aggressive, and more readily violent, so who knew how he would react if Freed suddenly demanded to be let back into the family. For all Laxus knew he might just shoot Freed on the spot! Laxus couldn't let that happen, he just couldn't. It would be like guiding him into the jaws of the beast. No, it couldn't happen.

"It's the best option, Laxus," Freed said firmly.

"It ain't an option because it ain't gonna happen," Laxus retorted, glaring down at the man.

"He's got a point, Laxus," Evergreen said, and Laxus turned his glare to his employee. "We need to do something, and you even said getting the police involved could work. And Freed's the most logical person to do it."

"Well he ain't doing it," Laxus repeated with a growl. "What if they figure out what you're doin'? They're already pissed off that you're working here, if they find out you're trying to take them down then they'll just fucking shoot you. I ain't gonna let you risk that. We'll figure out another way to do it. We'll, fuck I dunno, we'll…"

"Bend over and let 'em fuck with us until they get bored of the beatings and start shooting?" Gajeel asked, glaring at Laxus with crossed arms. "We all know yer sweet on the guy, but he's his own man and a dangerous one. Stop pussyfooting around on his behalf."

"He's got a point Laxus," Bickslow agreed. "Someone has to do it. Freed's the obvious choice."

"He ain't a choice," Laxus insisted.

"Well it's either we do this, or, as Gajeel said, we allow them to do whatever they want to us," Freed said, firmness in his tone. "They will get arrogant, see us as pushovers and will make an example out of you. And that doesn't just mean there will the violence get worse, which it will, there will also kill the business. Anything to ruin you. You think he's the only one threatened by you? Every speakeasy in the city wants you gone. Your strength protects you, but if you get passive then you're vulnerable. They'll be vandalism, police at your door, threats and attacks from every competitor."

"You're being ridiculous," Laxus snapped.

"And you're being selfish," Freed retorted.

For a note, there was silence.

"My office," Laxus said through gritted teeth. "Now."

With a level of animosity between them both, they walked behind the bar and up the stairs to the office. By the time that Laxus had closed the door, giving them both privacy, Freed had taken a seat opposite Laxus' desk and was looking at him with a determined expression. Laxus didn't back away from it, holding the gaze and taking a seat in his own office chair. They sat in silence for a moment before Freed broke it.

"You won't stop me," He said firmly. "I don't need your permission."

"Well you definitely aren't getting it," Laxus grunted back.

"I don't understand why you're so against me doing it."

"You don't?" Laxus laughed a little, exasperation at the man becoming more obvious. "Your father sends gunmen to get you, he had people attack your colleagues, he sent a threatening note to your house and you don't know why I don't want you going to him? You can't see why that's a fucking stupid idea?"

"I'm aware of the danger, Laxus," Freed said testily.

"Are you? Really? Then maybe you're just stupid," Laxus scoffed. "Even if we forget the risk of him finding out what you're doing, even if he really has had a change of heart and suddenly wants you back for no reason, you still wouldn't be safe. You fucking said yourself that the people who work for him weren't happy to find out you fucked men; they wouldn't have forgotten that. Even if we're real fucking optimistic, you'll still be in danger. Those men are trigger happy and see you as wrong, and you just wanna stroll in and go back to them. Really?"

"I don't care," Freed said, almost defeatedly. "I am doing this no matter what you say, and I think you know that already. It will take a long amount of time and I won't be able to speak to you for months, perhaps. I'd rather not leave on bad terms, so can we talk like adults please."

Laxus went to retort, to say that hell would freeze over before Laxus allowed Freed to do that, but the set in Freed's jaw told him not to; Freed wouldn't listen to him if he acted like this.

"I ain't happy about it," Laxus grunted, quietly.

"I know, and I wouldn't do it if I didn't think it were necessary," Freed assured him, speaking softly. "But Gajeel was right. People like my father won't go away if we remain passive. He'll get worse and people will get hurt. I know that you wouldn't allow that to happen, and this is the best way to stop it from getting to that point."

Laxus was quiet. The bastard was appealing to his protective side.

"I'm scared you'll get hurt," Laxus confessed. "I'm scared that he might just want you back to hurt you, and that you'll end up washed up on the riverbed because I couldn't stop you."

"That won't happen. And I'm not saying that because I trust him, because I don't," Freed said firmly. "I'm saying that because I spent my entire life watching that man, and keeping myself safe. I know how he works, and I can predict what he might do. Before I came to work with you, I was doing that anyway."

"Yeah but what if you can't?" Laxus said weakly. "What if he takes you by surprise?"

"Then we deal with it when it happens," Freed assured him, smiling a little to comfort him. "You can either torture yourself about what might happen to me if things go wrong, or you can torture yourself wondering what'll happen to each of your employees every time they go outside at night. But at least this way, we'll be trying to stop things from getting worse, rather than sitting back and letting it happen."

Laxus hated the situation. And Freed.

He'd never hate Freed.

He wanted to argue more: if he was persuasive enough then maybe Freed would back down and keep himself safe. But of course that only meant that the attacks on his employees would get more violent and dangerous.

It was clear a decision had to be made. Laxus would have to decide if his worry for his employees was more important than his worry for Freed. It was a horrible decision, because his employees were committed people who had dedicated time and effort to him, but Freed was so damned important to him that he couldn't put it into words. He couldn't let Freed get hurt, but he also couldn't let the situation with the Justine's get worse and worse.

Everything was too much. It was nauseating and awful and Laxus felt filled with a rage at the world that he'd never known before. He wanted to scream that this wasn't right, that people like Freed's father shouldn't be able to put people in situations like this, and that he should be killed for what he had done. Laxus would happily give the killing blow.

Caught up in the spirally worry, Laxus hadn't noticed Freed stand up and move beside him until a soft hand cupped his cheek.

"This is not your choice to make. I brought my father to your doorstep and I will deal with it," Freed said softly.

"Promise me you won't get hurt," Laxus whispered, cupping the hand on his cheek.

"No," Freed shook his head slightly. "But what I will promise you is that, once I have dealt with this, and everything is done, I will make sure you never feel like you do right now. And for every moment you feel anxious, every second of sadness that this causes, I promise you a lifetime of adoration from me. And once we are done, and we can be together again, I will show you just how hard it is for me to leave you."

Laxus couldn't say anything, instead taking Freed's hand off his cheek and pressing his lips to the soft, cold skin. He tugged at Freed, pulling him down so that the man sat atop his legs, and brought their lips together.

They kissed, slow and with passion. Yearning and sad, and Laxus wished it wouldn't end. That Freed wouldn't leave him even though he must.

"I need to do this Laxus," Freed whispered after they pulled apart. "But I will come back to you."

"Fucking better," Laxus almost whimpered as he spoke. "If you don't then-"

"I will," Freed assured him. "I will always come back to you."

They pulled each other into another kiss, which was just as sombre and delicate and hesitant as their first of the night had been. Laxus clung to Freed tightly, repeating the man's promise over and over in his head. He had to believe Freed, had to believe he was as good as his word.

But, as they kissed, they both knew the truth. Freed couldn't promise he'd come back, and that thought terrified Laxus.

~Two Days Later~

"I wish to see my father," Freed snapped, voice sharp and unflinching. "Now."

Standing at the door to his family estate, face to face with a dim looking member of his father's protection team, didn't stir any emotion from Freed. He had expected a level of anger or nervousness to rise up when he returned to the place he grew up in, and was no longer welcome at, but he felt nothing. Nothing but a simmering determination to achieve his goal as quickly as possible so he could leave, of course.

After the man left to find Freed's father, not before slamming the door in his face, Freed looked at the large building before him. It was lavish, expensive, and decorated with the ostentation fineries of a man who felt above the law and above other's judgement. It was gaudier than he remembered. The building itself seemed almost arrogant, as if sneering down at him.

It was hard to think that, at one point in his life, Freed had attained for a life like this.

After a short while, the door opened again, and the same musclebound idiot returned. He motioned for Freed to come in with a quick jerk of the head, and wordlessly guided Freed through the long corridors of the house. Freed recognised the route; he was being taken to his father's office, though through a purposefully convoluted route. It was an intimidation tactic his father had used, a way to show off how many men were at his command, as well as wrongfooting possible threats by forcing them to trawl around the large house without need. It didn't intimidate Freed, but it did make it clear that he was seen as an outsider.

That was what they'd expected, though. Once Laxus had accepted that Freed would be doing his infiltration plan despite his objections, the criminal members of Fairy Tail took time to assess what might happen, and what they'd need to do. This meeting going well was pivotal, and Freed needed to make it work, so knowing where he stood with his father was more useful than it was intimidating.

When they arrived at the office door, the guard knocked firmly. A moment later, the door opened.

Freed hadn't seen his father in months, and standing in the same room as him felt like a punch to the gut. He tried not to show the emotional winding he experienced, walking in with a confident stride. He stared at his father, unblinking and uncowering.

His father was a reflection of Freed, albeit obviously older. He shared his long green hair, his sharp and unforgiving features, his calculating eyes. Other than the wrinkles that covered his forehead, and the blander clothing the elder man chose to wear, the two men could have been mistaken for one another. Freed had never realised just how similar in appearance he was to his father, and the realisation was a little nauseating.

It wasn't just the two of them in the office. Two of his father's most loyal guards stood behind him, and Freed almost laughed as he saw who was standing to his father's left; the same man that had led to Freed's dismissal from the family. Clearly his father was doing everything to wrongfoot him.

The man wasn't as good looking as Freed remembered.

"Freed," His father said, voice low, gravely and unimpressed.

"Augustus," Freed replied, voice equally hostile.

They had all considered how best to get Freed back into the Justine family, and they had considered getting Freed to grovel for his father's approval. But that was entirely unlike Freed, and would probably raise suspicion rather than appeal to the man's ego. Freed was allowed to be as hostile as he liked, so long as he maintained the agreed upon story.

"You have a lot of confidence to come in here," Augustus growled, voice grating and sharp as he stood up. He slammed his hands on the desk, and Freed didn't flinch. "You come to my door unannounced, knowing you're not welcome, and you don't have the good manners to speak my real title. I should-"

"And what title would that be?" Freed cut him off, and a snarl covered Augustus' face.

"Do not interrupt me, boy," He demanded.

"You only ever called your sons 'boy' if I remember correctly," Freed smirked a little, and the look on his father's face was rather gratifying. Freed had to wonder why he was so scared of the man in the past. "Is that what the past few weeks have been about? Did you want me back?"

"You dare be so insubordinate in my presence," Augustus growled. "I should have you flogged on the damn streets for your arrogance. Perhaps if I'd have done more than when you were a kid then you wouldn't be the way you are."

Freed smirked, put his arms out slightly and looked at his father. "If beating me is what you want, go ahead."

Augustus stormed around the desk he was sitting at, leaving his behind him. He stood in front of Freed – he was smaller than before – with the snarl of a feral dog distorting his features. Without stopping, he raised his hand, so it was in line with Freed's face. The pianist might have flinched half a year ago, but now he regarded his father's hand with a small, uncaring gaze. When he saw his father's eyebrow twitched, he decided to inclined his cheek towards the raised hand, opening inviting the attack.

The slap's crack echoed around the room.

It was a painful thing, because despite his age Augustus was a strong man. He knew how to beat a man and it showed, but Freed simply chuckled, readjusted his jaw slightly and then looked at his father without care.

"Now that you've got that out of your system, shall we talk?"

Freed sat in one of the chairs opposite the desk, not waiting for an invitation he probably wouldn't have ever got. His father, already off-kilter from Freed's lack of reaction to the slap, stared down at his son with the closest thing to a gape he could show. Freed looked up at him, raised an eyebrow in a silent question, and then motioned for Augustus to sit in his own chair. He went to open his mouth, probably to begin some tirade against Freed.

"I wish to be reinstated in my previous position," Freed said before Augustus could begin. "Same level of respect, same finances, and of course the honour of being called your son again."

"You think that I would allow you back?" Augustus snarled. "After you went to the fucking Dreyar's! You betrayed your family."

"I was led to believe that I no longer had a family, it's somewhat a side effect of being disowned," Freed chuckled, and Augustus looked close to exploding. "But yes, I did go to the Dreyar's. I went to your main competitors, I worked for them for six months, and grew to understand what they were doing and how they worked. Information you don't have, but I could tell you."

That made Augustus' anger flicker away for a moment, and he slowly walked back to his chair. Freed had expected this, because the Justine Family was losing power quickly, and needed any advantage they could get. Freed was now offering this advantage to him.

"Why the hell should I listen to you?" Augustus demanded.

"I'm trying to prove a point," Free smiled.

"Which is?"

"Which is that the thing you hate about me is an asset," Freed snapped, anger flicking into his tone now. "That the part of me that you delight in calling a perversion is not only a part of who I am, but is also useful. That the very thing you used to try and humiliate me with, that you threw in my face every damned day of my life, will end up being the bedrock of your new empire."

"And how the fuck will you prove that?" Augustus growled.

"Because it's that so called perversion that got that man under my heel," Freed yelled. "He shared my predilection and I used that to my advantage. I had regular access to his private quarters; his finances, personal correspondence and every damn deal he ever made. And not only that, but I also got to see just how hopeless the idiot was in the world of crime, and he came to me for help. I create every aspect of that man's criminal profile and every weakness I installed is mine to take advantage of, Father. You used to beat me for my desire for men, and you used it to remove me from the life I had always known, and now the only way this family will keep its standing is to take advantage of what my supposed infliction allowed me to do."

It was sickening to say it, but that was the story they had come up with. Freed would be the spurred son, wanting to spitefully prove himself to his father by infiltrating his rival's business and getting information. He would have discovered Laxus' shared like of men, and would have instigated a relationship with him to further gather information.

But the idea of using Laxus like that was nauseating.

Some of the emotion was real though, because for as little Freed cared about the man before him, he was still his father. The same father who had taken the rod to Freed's back time after time, beating him for something he had no power over. Augustus Justine was a sick man, and Freed wished him hell.

"Well well," Augustus chuckled. "Perhaps I taught you well after all."

Freed would take no praise from this man. This morally destitute monster who cared only for how much money he had in the bank and how many thugs he had worshipping the ground he walked on. It was hard to believe that at some point, Freed had thought that was how every man of power would act.

"You say that he's got weaknesses?" August asked, using the voice he used when doing business.

"If you do as I say and reinstate my position in the family, then you'll see just how many weak spots he has," Freed replied, forcing a mean smirk on his face. "Within a year he'll be begging on the streets. Although, I wouldn't mind putting a bullet between his eyes, if I'm honest."

Even saying it sent bile up Freed's throat.

"That's what I like to hear," Augustus laughed. "One year?"

"This time next year, you'll have more power than ever before," Freed promised, smirking confidently. It was a hollow, horrible gesture.

Augustus clapped his hands together twice, standing up again and walking around the desk with a smile on his features. He spread his arms out wide, inviting Freed into a hug as he often did at the end of his business. For a moment, Freed found himself considering attacked the man. Picking up one of the many heavy ornaments decorating the desk and slamming the man across the head with them. Because he deserved it, for what he had done to both Freed and to the workers at Fairy Tail. Making the man bleed, perhaps cover, would be more than gratifying, and it would be so damned easy.

But he couldn't do that. As satisfying as it may be, Freed knew that taking the man down would achieve a lot more than simply attacking him. And so, slowly, almost tentatively, he stood up, walked into the man's arms and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. His skin crawled as he did.

"Welcome back," Augustus proclaimed, laughing as if he hadn't betrayed and attacked his son mere months ago. He kissed both of Freed's cheeks. "My son!"

#ftezbb2021 #Fraxus #freed Justine #laxus dreyar #fairy tail #fanfic #writing #event #Big Bang #multi chapter

12 notes · View notes

ofwolvesandbutterflies · 4 years

Text

all in

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Reader

Genre: angst, tsp of fluff

Tags: mafiaboss!jaehyun, businesspartners!au

Warnings: language, mentions of violence and blood, t e n s i o n

day 22 of 30 days with NCT

Synopsis: in which jaehyun is paid to protect you, your business, your body... everything about you but your heart.

// could you be the one who gets to save me // (x)

[11:34]

“Heads up, Jae!” you ducked, throwing a glance over your shoulder to make sure your ‘business partner’ had dodged the knife as well. Said man swerved to the side in accordance with your warning and shot a mischievous grin at you as he kicked another masked man. A couple golden brown strands of sweaty hair fell into his eyes, making him that much more attractive. “Thanks, Princess.” He grunted as his fist made contact with another unfortunate jaw, tossing a quick uppercut at someone else. “Hey, watch your left-”

Nodding, you turned back around, flicking the sturdy switchblade open to slash at the figure in all back running towards you. A quick flash of metal, a strangled scream, and the crunch of bone against pavement beneath you as the body made contact with black top… it should have been sickening to you. But after all these years of fighting for survival in an illegal life like yours, a grim smirk made its way across your lips. You took a breath, scanning the chaos in your surroundings as you leaned back against Jaehyun, the man your father had originally said was your ‘paid protection’. The muscles in his back contracted as he kicked someone else across the yard and a quiet sigh left your lips. But, at this point, Jaehyun was more to you than just paid protection.

“You good, Princess?” His breath came out in harsh pants as he turned slightly to glance at you out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t usually lean against me in a fight unless you’re really tired.”

“I’m good-” you mumbled just as something whizzed a mere centimeter from your face. The curse left your mouth in seconds and you tugged the .44 mag revolver from its holster around your waist. “Shit, Jaehyun, watch the second wave.” He nodded, jaw clenched as he barked orders to his men. Pointing the gun towards the approaching enemies, you shot back. Hair in your face, back against a man you trusted with your life, and a solid three pounds of steel and polymer in your hands, you let the crazed smile take over your lips. There was something so exhilarating about fighting with someone rather than against someone.

The sounds of gunshots, breaking bones, and pure violence rang out in the warehouse yard for longer than it should have, but within minutes, the last body fell and it was over. Tucking your weapons back into their respective hiding places, you let your head fall against Jaehyun’s back.

“You doing okay, Jae?” You murmured, watching as a couple of his men walked off towards their vehicles, cleaning cloth and weapons draped over their shoulders.

He chuckled and stood there for a second, letting you rest against him. “Have I ever told you how much I hate starting my days out with my life on the line?”

“Shut up, dumbass….” You rolled your eyes, jabbing your elbow into his back, giggling when he yelped in surprise. “Don’t even lie, though. You wouldn’t be one of the most successful mafia heads in Korea if you didn’t have an unhealthy, animalistic thirst for steel and blood in the mornings.”

“I wouldn’t call it an ‘animalistic thirst’…” Jaehyun laughed again, a deep, baritone sound that reverberated through his body and sent a light flush to your cheeks. Lifting his head from yours, he pushed off your back to turn towards you. “More like an… acquired taste. Your dad said he’d cover clean up, right?” You nodded, kicking a few fallen limbs out of your path as you followed your ‘bodyguard’ towards his SUV.

“Yeah,” you murmured, admiring the muscles lining his back, pressed up against the skin-tight long sleeve hugging his body. “He said he’d send over Lucas and Ten whenever we were done.”

“Sweet.” Unlocking the car, he opened the door to the driver’s seat, shamelessly lifting the shirt over his head to change. Your eyes drank in the sight of his scarred, tattooed, well cut figure, not bothering to hide the fact you were staring. He pulled the bloodied shirt off, smirking when he caught your gaze. You whistled your approval and he tossed the shirt at you playfully. “Get changed, Princess. I don’t think your econ professor will appreciate the way those bloodied jeans hug your ass as much as I do. That, and you are not getting blood on my leather seats. I will literally make you sit in the trunk if you don’t change.”

Jaehyun tossed you a change of clothes, a simple t-shirt and jeans. “Fine, Mr. Jung.” An overexaggerated groan left your lips as he turned around to give you some privacy. Jung Jaehyun had been your first choice in ‘hired muscle’ for a couple years now, ever since the night of your first assassination attempt. Needless to say, had he not been doing business with your father that evening at the gala, you would have most definitely been shot dead.

Fingering the scar right below your rib cage, a shudder ran through your body as your eyes caressed the matching scar on your partner’s body. The way he had grabbed you that evening, turning so that his body shielded yours, the only response of pain from him being the way his teeth clenched as he bit back a grunt. But even now, as you tore your eyes away from him to pull the fresh pair of jeans up your legs, you knew you still would have fallen for him, regardless of if he saved your life or not.

You stripped your bloodied shirt from your body, wincing when the movement shot a stab of pain through your body. You must have reopened that laceration on your shoulder from the night before. A sudden presence behind you sent a familiar thrill down your spine and you halted all movement. You already knew who it was. Only one person felt that confident, that firm merely standing behind you.

“You okay, princess?” Jaehyun ran his fingers down the scarred skin of your back, voice low and a different type of risky. His breath ghosted over your skin and you shivered, dropping your arms back down to your side. With one hand, he brushed your hair to the side, leaning closer to examine the open wound from the day before. A dark blush covered your cheeks at how close he was. Deep down, you knew you weren’t special. Jaehyun always treated his men, his friends this well when they were hurt. But when you turned, caught the way his brows furrowed with concern… something within you wished you were more to him than an associate’s daughter. “Looks like you worked the cut from last fight too hard.”

The calloused fingers left your skin only to return a moment later with a cotton swab drenched in alcohol. You hissed, immediately moving away from his hands and he snickered. “Easy, Y/N. Don’t move too much, okay?” Saying nothing, you squared your shoulders and clenched your teeth to stop the sounds of pain from escaping your lips. Soon, the cleaning was done and your shoulder was wrapped.

You stared blankly ahead of you, gaze somewhat unfocused as you pondered your chances of being able to pull off a relationship with someone as dangerous as Jaehyun. Your father would definitely approve. Not only would it secure an alliance with the notorious 127 syndicate, your father had been pushing to arrange ‘something’ between the two of you since that first night he saved you. And as exciting as a relationship with him would be… What fun would marriage be if your feelings were one sided?

Like a ray of sunshine through your clouded thoughts, Jaehyun appeared in front of you, dark eyes swimming in nothing but careful affection, as he held the clean t-shirt out for you to put your arms through. “Come on, Princess,” his voice was soft, much different than the voice he used with his men and for a split second, you thought just maybe you had a chance. A gentle smile danced across his lips when you finally looked up at the dangerously handsome man in front of you. “Let’s get you covered.”

Placing your arms through the holes, he gently eased the clothing over your head and down your scarred, bandaged torso. His hands smoothed the hem of your shirt down, resting over the soft curve of your waist for one moment too long.

And that single moment was all your body needed to start the unwarranted gymnastics routine in your heart once again. The breath escaping your lungs became ragged, uneven. Your hands came up to rest on his broad shoulders. From the dip of your collar bone to the pillowy pink of your lips and then up to your blank gaze was the path Jaehyun’s eyes traveled. With every sense of yours heightened and hyper aware from the lack of space between you two, you had yet to forget the way his hands remained on your hips. In the deafening silence, the glance he shot back down to your lips was just enough clarification you needed.

His mouth covered yours in seconds, the kiss a harsh combination of clashing teeth and the iron aftertaste of blood. It was passionless, the way he cradled your body in his hands as if he was afraid you could break any moment. For such an infamous criminal, you thought to yourself. Jung Jaehyun certainly had the softest lips you’d ever kissed.

But there were no sparks. There was no fire that lit in the pit of your stomach when he bit down on your bottom lip, tugging ever so slightly. No matter how gentle he was with you, no matter how intoxicating he was on your tongue… it became more obvious when you pulled away, observing the way he made no move to chase your lips. A bitter feeling spread over your chest when you realized something. He cared for you, yes. But he didn’t love you. Jaehyun didn’t love you.

A sad smile crept up your lips and you sighed. Pulling out your own teeth would have been less painful than the hurt you felt extracting yourself from his arms. He sighed, gathering his dirty clothes up to wash later, the moment prior already forgotten.

“Hey… Y/N,” Jaehyun cleared his throat, tossing a bag for clothes towards you. You blinked, nearly missing the bag. He nodded towards the car, face still a pale pink from what had transpired only seconds before. “We… we gotta head out soon or you’ll be late for class.”

“... Right.”

You sat in the passenger seat, glaring out the window at the beautiful cerulean sky. The drive out had only been forty-five minutes, but a stifling hatred towards your naivety bubbled, simmering in the jagged cavity where your heart had been and made the trip feel even longer. Nothing, not even the low jazz Jaehyun had playing in the background could block out the unreasonable frustration boiling in your stomach. Finally, after thirty seconds, you broke.

“Who is it?” your voice came out low, level, masterfully masking the intense desire of yours to cry. And if Jaehyun hadn’t known you for as long as he had, he wouldn’t have caught the slight tremble in the last syllable you spoke.

“What was that, Princess?”

“I said, who is it?” The question was more forceful this time. His grip on the steering wheel tightened and his jaw clenched. You knew he had heard you.

“... Who is what?” Silky and suave as always, Jaehyun cleared his throat, doing his best to sound unfazed. You had heard this voice before. Many times before. This was the voice he used when he was trying to evade a difficult topic.

“Who is it?” This time, you didn’t even try to hide the quiver in your voice. Melancholy rolled off you in waves and the first of the wretched tears made its way down your cheek. “Who… who’s keeping you from loving me the way I love you?”

“I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking abou-”

“Cut the bullshit, Jung Jaehyun.” Anger manifested itself in the sudden raise of your voice. Jaehyun winced and you pressed on, growling through clenched teeth. “I lie way too much to believe that load of ass you just fed me.”

He swallowed, gaze straight ahead to avoid your prying eyes. “She… doesn’t know.” His words were quiet, almost reluctant. So the lucky girl didn’t know she was lucky.

“You should…” this time, your voice was barely audible, void of all the anger from a few seconds ago. “You should tell her. She deserves that at the very least.”

“But that would put her in danger!” It was Jaehyun’s turn to sound wildly distraught. Though his gaze remained firm on the road ahead, you could see the fear of rejection, the fear of any other young man deeply in love in his dark eyes. “She doesn’t even- she doesn’t know I’m one of the most dangerous criminals in Korea. She doesn’t know that I do what I do. How am I supposed to spring both on her at once? That just- that wouldn’t be fair to her.”

“You know what else isn’t fair to her? Keeping it a secret. Imagine how she might feel every time you leave for weeks on overseas assignments. Imagine how she might feel every time you come back with another cut lining your ridiculously flawless skin. Imagine… imagine how she’d feel if you died one day, never came back and never told her. Never told her that you loved her. Never told her why you disappeared so much. She’d be heartbroken in more ways than one, Jae.” Your words trailed off by the time you had finished. You pulled the collar of your shirt up to swipe furiously at the dried tears dotting your skin. Those words you had spoken... it wasn’t just the mystery girl you were speaking of.

Jaehyun was quiet for a moment, digesting the information you had just spat at him.

“And… I’m not saying you need to tell her both at once, I’m just- I… Give her the chance to love you for all you are.” Give her the chance to love you like I do.

150 notes · View notes

starrysupercell · 3 years

Note

So... Now that your writing bug is back... Could we get a drabble of Belle and Byron with the sibilings theory? Go ham :)

Lmao. This was at the top of the list ahaha what do you mean

Anyway, I'm still getting a feel for Belle, but for now I'm going for a mix of Kissing Kate Barlow's montage (not the backstory- the tone. Important.) and a very, VERY light dose of Azula... mostly for the siblings thing!

......and yet again I make it a set-up to a story rather than a drabble or one shot. Like some of the other stuff I've written, I wonder if there should be oneshot followups? x.x we'll see..

•🐍• Risk & Reward •🦝•

"Byron." Piper said sternly.

"That's odd. I don't remember hearing a knock.." Byron said lightly. He sat in his chair, faced away from the door, from her, from the world. "Or saying come in."

"There's been reports of the Goldarm Gang being seen around here." Piper went on. "We need to take action. Either hire more security, or outfit the building with further measures."

She heard the rustle of a newspaper page being turned. "There's no need for concern." Came his nonchalant response.

The woman placed her fists on her hips. She would not be casually dismissed like this. "You're looking at the news yourself. You know this isn't just another band of petty criminals."

Byron closed up the papers, folding it up neatly before swiveling around and turning to face Piper. "You're right. I do know that."

He was smiling, in that particular way where he knows something she doesn't. How infuriating... but begrudgingly comforting.

She sighed silently, then smiled passively. "I know there's no use trying to find out what's going on with you. I also came to let you know I'm putting in a request for a week off."

He leaned his head in his hand, frowning. "You have no faith in me, Piper."

"I have some faith in you." She smirked, "I do have matters to attend to, actually. This isn't a luxury getaway. A couple of old friends are looking to start bounty hunting. I wish to lend my support."

"I see." He muttered, looking to the side. "Very well. We'll find a way to manage without you around here. Thank you for letting me know."

"It's no problem." She said, recognizing that tone and demeanor. "If things go well, I can be back sooner?" She offered.

Byron shook his head. "That won't be necessary... You take care of your business, Piper," He looked pointedly down at the grainy quality of the main headline's picture. "And I'll take care of mine."

[ ($) ] [ ($) ] [ ($) ] [ ($) ] [ ($) ]

The rumors were only just starting, so he figured that there would be some window of a time frame to prepare some things. Currently, he was recording inventory, and had plans over the money and several safes he had. (Even without this Golden Arm threat, he was a very careful man.)

He wouldn't be surprised if she had already started to scope the area around here. That no-good, sneaky turncoat, gold-lifting thief of a sister..!

Byron frowned, his jaw clenching and his temper easily flaring at the thought of her.

He sighed, smoothing out a part of his hair with his fingers. There was no use for paranoia or anger here. It'd only hinder him.

He focused about which modifications to his place. Piper was right, but he knew brute force wouldn't work. His sister was crafty, but still lazy no doubt. When you take the easy way out, you're bound to always be a weaselly, good for nothing...

He blinked. Focus.

[ ($) ] [ ($) ] [ ($) ] [ ($) ] [ ($) ]

That week's work of preparation went for both sides. Belle sat with her drink as she checked out the lobby of the place. She had a more casual set of clothes to avoid detection. Jacket, gloves, no trademark glasses. She would stay low.

This place was popular for sure. Reports from other members confirmed as such.

She wasn't so surprised, considering who owned the place, but she was surprised at the ambiance. Cheery piano music, tame audience and a prim and peppy bartender. If this wasn't just a cover for anything on the sidelines, he turned out to be such a sellout!

Belle's grin was shrouded by the held to her lips. Too bad her little brother never grew a backbone and left those control freaks. For him that is. This was just a pit filled with gold just begging to be tapped. And she intended to answer those calls. The sooner, the better.

She downed her drink, and stood. She left enough to cover it and then plenty. As she passed by the performing bot, she left a generous tip for him as well. He gave a grateful bow, and continued his musical jig.

The heist pulled here would more than cover these 'losses,' but anything that goes towards bots was well worth it. Belle idly tugged at her jacket sleeve as she walked out.

They would strike soon.

[ ($) ] [ ($) ] [ ($) ] [ ($) ] [ ($) ]

The first day of the following week, Piper returned. She hummed a tune as she walked into the bar, and headed to the back.

Things went swimmingly. Poco and Primo's friend, Amber, got her start thanks to Piper's investment. Her first job went well enough.. in the end. It was a productive week overall. The group even went out for a celebration afterwards, where, Piper recalled with a fond smile, that mysterious woman left quite an impression on her. She looked forward to seeing her again.

Her recollection of that magical night came to a screeching halt when the ruins of the place came to her attention.

"What in the..?" She muttered, looking around at the broken tables and more.

"Watch your step!" Barely advised, working on cleaning up a section of the room.

"Oh, Byron didn't heed my warning, did he?" She lifted her dress slightly to walk around the mess. "It'll do him well, if he has to learn this way." she complained as ladylike as always, "Maybe now he won't dismiss me, though I still won't think it likely. I still expect to be paid to work too."

"So that's what you really think." Byron said, leaning against a wall. He was amused, and straightened up. "Follow me. Both of you."

The robot and lady glanced at each other, but followed the owner of the place.

"We may have been hit, but I assure you that not a thing of value has been taken." He monologued as he led them down the hall. "The destruction of the place was only superficial, caused by the anger and frustration of an uncouth band of petty bandits."

Piper listened and noted they entered his office. So what kind of trick did he pull?

"Praytell, Sir. You're saying the only thing we have to worry about is the funds and time to clean up the mess?" Barley asked.

"That's right." Byron responded, a tint of pride to his voice. "I've replaced every precious gem and all the gold we've had stashed with lookalikes and Fool's. They've got nothing!"

He walked over to a section of a wall behind his desk and let a laugh escape him as he removed a frame from it. The wall behind was removable to show an empty space. "To add insult to injury, I left the most valuable item we owe in here." He reached in, pulled out the fake back cover and revealed a medium-sized box. "So it was right under their noses, and they left completely empty handed!"

"The most valuable?... Byron..." Piper frowned. "I trust you know well, but don't you think that was a risk? That precious statuette is sought after by everyone. It shouldn't be used as a trophy."

"Quite." Barley agreed. "With all my respect, Sir, you did this without even informing me." He sounded upset.

"...It's still here," Byron said weakly to his defense after a pause. He sighed. Maybe he had let more of his emotions guide his defense of their business. "I suppose.. I was letting things get personal. I'll admit it." He turned the box toward himself, and went to press the combination of numbers that would open the safebox. "Perhaps, I haven't been completely honest either. The leader of the Gold Arm Ga--" As he pressed the last button of the lock, the box lid flipped open and a light electric shock ran through his body, freezing him in place.

Piper gasped. Barley's arm reached out, roughly smacking the metal box out of Byron's hands and into the ground.

The box landed, and the only thing that fell out was a single slip of paper.

"It's missing!" Piper exclaimed.

Barley was near Byron in an instant. "Are you alright?" He asked the man leaning heavily against the wall.

The salesman didn't answer. His eyes were hyper-fixated on the single spilled content of the box. He pulled away from the wall and the service bot and leaned down to pick up the torn scrap.

'Dumbass!' was the only thing scrawled on it. Byron scrunched it up in his fist.

[ ($) ] [ ($) ] [ ($) ] [ ($) ] [ ($) ]

"Shelly!" Belle cheered, "Pass me our winnings!"

A young woman with dark hair and an eye patch grabbed the shining figure of a cactus, adorned with priceless jewels.

She tossed over with a grin, and Belle caught it.

The leader of the Gold Arms stepped on a chair, then the table. "Look here, folks!" She called for attention. Her bandits instantly quieted their idle buzz. "We all did great last night. That slippery eel may have thrown us for a loop, but as usual, we united prevail!! Together, we've hit the jackpot!" She held the statuette up for her crew to see and cheer on. "When they cover this, the Golden Arm Gang will be unforgettable! And if we stick together, we'll always be untouchable!"

Cheers, and their celebratory times went on. Drinking, chatting, cheerful.

Belle grinned and hopped off the table at the crowd's energy. She pocketed the figurine. Life was finally good.

She sat and eyed the bag of loot they took along despite its worthlessness.

Maybe it wasn't so bad? The false gems could be used in a scam, she supposed, Some folks didn't know how to separate reals from placeholders.

She looked through it, and noted a box that had been unopened. Oh. That might have been when they were trashing the place when they discovered a lot of the valuables were actually cheap fakes.

She clicked the simple lock mechanism of the box open, just to sate her curiosity. There was a small, square sheet that was neatly tucked into the recently-opened box that held the mystery fog.

'Dunce.' It said, written in a very neat cursive.

"Ah, shit," Belle said, feeling lightheaded. She realized far too late. "That little...." she slumped forward, out cold. Her golden arm dropped the container.

A poison fog traveled from the box throughout the room, slowly knocking out the rest of the thieves in the hideout. They were fine, but all would wake up in an hour or so with pounding headaches and heavy nausea for days to come.

Just a little gift exchange amongst siblings, nothing more.

#siblings conspriracy theory #sct #Brawl Stars #Goldarm Gang #Belle #Byron #Siblings Theory #Bartenders #yes there was a Piper/Tara mention bc I'm weak #Ms. Fortune 😍#Skins #my writings #I have so much to say but I'll let it be #request but also self indulgent sibling rivalry that was set into motion bc of shitty parent(s)..... whoops is this too personal #anyway enjoy! i really like the dynamic between byron piper and barley now #expect more of them too

7 notes · View notes

wickedmilo · 3 years

Photo

DID YOU MISS ME? | MILO & DAMIEN

PLACE: A bar TIMING: 1:38 AM SUMMARY: Damien and Milo cross paths after a previous ‘almost’ hook-up. They unexpectedly find themselves confiding in each other. WRITING PARTNER: @damienxsheppard CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction, alcoholism, drugs, violence

There was something complex in the brew the bartender provided Damien, he had a hard time pinning down what flavors lingered on his tongue and which were easy to wash away in thought. A bright orange note burst by the back of his mouth while something smooth and sweet lingered at the front. He didn’t know much about magic or spells, all he knew was that this beer was crafted locally and whoever made it created one fine concoction. Damien sipped it as he surveyed the bar once more, he had ended up in the small pub for the same reason he always ended up there: he had been looking for someone. When he failed to find them, again, he began looking for a drink.

Darkness seemed to leak through the cracks of the old building, its occupants didn’t seem to mind and Damien blended right into the crowd. No one took notice of him, that is, until he caught a body draw close in his peripheral to his table. Damien was not someone people frequently approached and for good reason. Turning to see who’d provoked his attention, a small grin pulled at the corner of his lips as he found a familiar face. “Well,” Damien took the time to regard Milo, something about him had changed since they’d last met but he couldn’t see what, “been a minute since I’ve seen you. Figured you packed up and left, or died. Seems to be a pretty common theme with this town.”

Milo had never credited himself with the ability to function as a human being. It seemed his automatic response, regardless of the situation, was to look for a drink, or the closest hit. It had never been an issue before now, though he felt sure Dani and his parents would claim otherwise, but he was no longer human, he was something other, and this obsessive need to avoid his problems continued to draw him back into town. A place he shouldn’t be, a place he knew he could do an awful lot of damage. He was only a few drinks in, barely enough to warrant a buzz, and he had been careful to frequent the shadows, choose the tables furthest from the crowds. There were merits to this tactic, he felt more in control, less afraid of himself. But there were negatives too.

He was given far too much time to dwell on the fact that he was dead. Clinically dead, as far as he could tell. He had spent days struggling to find any semblance of a heartbeat. The empty sensation was as uncomfortable as the bloodlust. But what else was there to contemplate when he was alone? His anxiety only weakened by the alcohol in his system, usually he liked to assume he would be smarter than approaching the first familiar face he saw. But he wasn’t thinking straight, and he didn’t exactly feel as though anybody could judge him for that fact. Desperate for company, he recognised Damien immediately. An almost hook-up from a few weeks prior. Jeez, had it only been a month? He scrambled out of his seat, downing his beer before making his way over to where the man was sitting. Attempting to keep his distance without drawing attention to what he was doing, he forced a casual smile. “Hm, something like that.” He muttered. “Did you miss me?”

The grin on Damien’s lips grew to reveal a row of teeth, his mouth breaking open briefly as a sharp laugh cut through the air. He couldn’t help the piercing amusement Milo’s question brought on. Damien recalled the night they met, though it was starting to grow hazy as all memories do as they age. It didn’t help that he'd had a few to drink that night, same as now. He knew that Milo had noticed how his attention lingered longer than it should. “The bar was a little boring while you were out,” he admitted, though Damien had found plenty of things to keep himself occupied with. Most nights he ended up picking fights, others he pursued any information, they all usually ended him at the bottom of a glass.

Damien took another drink of his beer, tilting his head slightly as he considered Milo where he stood. He didn’t remember the other trying to keep distance between them before, but some time had passed. Maybe he had learned more about Damien since last they’d met, discovered how chaotic he could be. It seemed unlikely, given the fact those who had learned what he was capable of belonged to the criminal climate of White Crest. That, and Milo didn’t seem to be the type to shy from danger before. “Did you just stop by to say hello or are you going to stand there all night?” Finishing what was left of his beer, Damien flagged the waitress down to request another, “don’t tell me you’ve found someone else to drink with.”

“Everything is boring without me.” Milo teased, surprised by how easy it was to slip back into his usual speech patterns. When his life felt as though it was crumbling around him, it was almost comforting to realize he, as a person, hadn’t changed. He could still be sarcastic, still make a joke if he wanted to. “Well, lucky for you I’m back from the dead.” He added, leaning against the bar, tapping his fingers against his empty glass. It felt like a ridiculous thing to say, but surely there was no harm in a little wordplay. He was hyper aware of being in the centre of a crowd, hyper aware of the fact that his inebriation could work for him or against him. It didn’t exactly dampen the cravings, but it offered him an illusion of self control, one he was actively working not to trust. Damien was apparently the perfect distraction. It wasn’t as though they could pick up where they had left off, but he would settle for good company tonight. He missed good company.

Feeling his smile falter just a little when he realized Damien had noticed his odd behaviour, he shifted awkwardly on the spot. His initial instinct was to move closer and prove he wasn’t acting strange, but that wasn’t an option. “Both?” He said instead, brushing off the question. “Look, my life has kind of become a shitshow, I haven’t showered in a few days and I’m not about to force that on you.” Wrinkling his nose, it was a surprisingly honest response. In fact, he was fairly certain he had never been more of a mess. Mentally, and physically, his self-care had taken a rapid decline, as if it wasn’t already lacking. “Why?” He grinned when Damien asked if he had found somebody new to drink with. The expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you jealous?” Glancing down at his empty cup, he lifted it, attempting to drain the dregs at the very bottom. “Actually, you’ll be pleased to know… drinking alone has kind of become my thing.” He set his glass back down, chewing briefly on his bottom lip. “I was planning to drink here until somebody is forced to drag me out of a gutter, you are a very unexpected treat.”

It would have been easy to dismiss the change in Milo’s demeanor on the poor lighting, chalk up the way his smile faltered a little on the atmosphere or whatever other buyable environmental excuse one could produce. But Damien had spent too much time in the dark to be easily fooled by shadows. His gang had conducted most of their corrupt affairs at night, traded in illegal actions, provoked their worst enemies out into a fight till one pack finally chewed them apart. Damien listened as Milo confessed his life had been less than ideal lately, and there seemed to be some truth in that. Still, there was something unsteady about the man.

Damien slid forward from his seat, slow enough that if Milo decided to leave he’d have the time to do so. Always, he had been bold, on the verge of carelessness really, and often enough he paid for it with a bruise he didn’t regret earning. Damien invaded the space between the two as he stood up, leaning forward and testing Milo’s boundaries. “You don’t smell funny to me,” he mused, giving way to a small grin. For a moment he lingered there before moving even closer to reach around Milo, freeing the waitress of the beer she’d brought to their table. A fresh glass was placed in his company’s hand before Damien fell back into his seat. “I don’t have a right to be jealous, you’re free to do what you want.” An honest answer, released with a small shrug before he continued, “a unexpectant treat? I’ve been called a lot of things in my time, but that’s a first. What the hell’s been going on in your week that makes you happy to see me?” Usually, he wasn’t classified as a sight for sore eyes, he was not welcomed company, but the residents of White Crest were all strange in the way they approached him.

Milo hadn’t been expecting Damien to call his bluff. His entire body tensed as the man moved steadily towards him. He wasn’t sure how close he was intending to get, but he decided to stay planted. If he scrambled away from him that would only make him look suspicious. Holding his breath, tilting backwards just a little as he willed his friend to retreat, he swallowed, closing his eyes in an attempt to maintain control. “Please… don’t…” He muttered quietly, his voice strained as Damien leaned around him to pick up his glass. He felt guilty for saying anything the moment he saw the grin on his company’s face, but keeping his distance wasn’t exactly trivial. It was a matter of will power, and his will power had always been severely lacking. The moment Damien took his own seat again, Milo let out the breath he had been holding. A wave of relief washed over him, though he knew the sense of accomplishment would be short lived. Saying no to one temptation in an entire room of temptations wasn’t exactly something to be proud of. You could only be proud when you left the room. Wasn’t that how things worked? “I’m- uh, pleased to hear it?” He answered quietly, his heart not entirely in the statement. Usually he would have a comeback, something funny to say in response. But his mind was entirely blank.

Staring down at the fresh beer in his hands, he used it as an excuse to avoid eye contact. “Yeah, well, maybe that’s a sign of just how terribly things are going.” He teased, attempting to fall back into his usual humour. “There’s a first time for everything, right? Really, nobody’s ever been happy to see you?” He struggled to believe that. From what he could remember of their past encounter, Damien had been entertaining, flirtatious, genuinely decent company. What could possibly make him think otherwise? “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Imagine the worst of the worst, times it by ten, and you might get somewhere close, but it’s… whatever...”

The reaction he received was hardly subtle. Damien had always found value in what made people cringe, he regularly looked for a person’s weakness in combat, exploited what made them flinch to guarantee an upperhand. It was a practice that carried over into his conversations too. The plea that broke from Milo was so low it could have been buried in the regular commotion of the bar, and Damien might have missed it too, if it hadn’t been for that sharp hearing he’d inherited after being bitten. He couldn’t tell what brought it out of him, but it seemed to bother Milo less when he took his seat again.

The temptation to push on the subject despite Milo’s reluctance pressed into Damien’s thoughts but he took a long drink of his beer instead of asking about it further. He didn’t have a reason to pry, at least, not yet. “No, not usually,” Damien began to answer, a few people in town had learned of him, seen what he was capable of and accepted him, like Solomon and Nell. The wolf’s eyes set on something past Milo as he remembered his family, they were the ones who knew him, truly understood him, and happily welcomed him into their ranks. Damien’s gaze focused once more on Milo as he added, “really, that’s my fault though. I’ve made few friends in town but not many. Been caught up in a few fights, and don’t always end well.” It had certainly been more than a few but he didn’t elaborate. Damien nodded as Milo conveyed he didn’t want to talk about what was clearly bothering him. “My week has been fucking great, thanks for asking,” his tone was not harsh, joking lightly, “we’ve got more construction projects being drawn up every day. This week I’ll be clocking in overtime. We’re working on some old house right now and all the guys swear it’s haunted. Hell, I swear every house in this town is haunted in some way. ”

Milo wasn’t sure Damien managed to hear his quiet plea over the noise that was surrounding them. If he had, he was grateful the man decided to act as though he hadn’t. He knew his behaviour was odd, but he wanted to pretend otherwise. He wanted to live in the moment, even if just for the night, and pretend things were normal. He wasn’t dead, he wasn’t responsible for taking someone’s life. He was Milo. Just Milo. “I’ll make a habit of it then. For you.” He offered a smile, finally able to appreciate the beer he was holding now that there was some distance between them. Leaning against the bar, allowing himself to get comfortable, he raised his eyebrows at the mention of fights. It wasn’t difficult to imagine somebody like Damien getting caught up in trouble. He wondered briefly whether he was the type to start them or finish them.

A laugh escaping him as the subject shifted, he surprised himself by grinning easily. His first genuine smile of the night. “Am I being self-absorbed?” He asked, only half teasing. “It’s kind of my thing, you don’t want to take that away from me, do you? Not when I’m so fucking good at it?” His eyes shining, he listened with sincere curiosity as his company began to talk about construction projects. It suddenly struck him that he wasn’t entirely sure what he did to earn a living. “You’re a construction worker?” He asked, his smile faltering at the mention of haunted houses. It had never even crossed his mind to consider whether ghosts might be real. If vampires were then what else could be out there? “Like, actually haunted? As in you’ve seen a ghost?”

Damien wanted to discourage Milo from making that habit, ward off any sort of promise and the smile that trailed after it. The life he had chosen was threaded with chaos and ruin, his pursuit of revenge only promised bloodshed. No need to drag anyone else into it. Briefly, as the words were uttered by Milo, his jaw tensed as if any semblance of kindness struck him like a punch. Who in their right mind would give a fuck about him? Damien was quick to dismiss Milo, he considered himself good company for the night, but nothing more. It wasn’t like he had a reason to think Milo could endure him longer with the distance kept between them.

“You can be as self-absorbed as you want, if the next round is on you,” Damien replied, masking his previous tension under a slack grin till all bothersome thoughts became a distant memory. The beer helped. He took another drink, his glass already half empty once more. “I am,” the answer came easy, construction hadn’t ever been his trade but he learned most of the tools to the business on site. The guys he worked alongside were friendly enough and never asked too many questions. It was for the best really, at times they’d discover past horrors in houses and didn’t know if it had always been there, or if someone from the crew added it. No one ever asked. “I’ve never seen any ghosts, I think they’re full of it. A guy the other day said he saw some woman walking about and then some of our tools went missing. He said she doesn’t want us to work on the house. Sounds like an excuse not to work, if you ask me.” Damien shrugged as if to say it couldn’t be helped and took another drink of his beer.

Milo noticed the shift in Damien’s expression, but in the same way Damien had chosen to ignore his strange behaviour, he figured it was only fair to return the favour. “Oh, you’re gonna make me pay for the drinks?” He raised his eyebrows, a laugh escaping him. “Fine, but this may just financially ruin me.” He teased, pulling out some folded notes, sliding them towards the bartender. His company didn’t need to know he was already financially ruined, or that he had swiped the dollar bills from the coat of an unsuspecting patron. It wasn’t the first time he had stolen to support a habit, it probably wouldn’t be the last. Turning his attention fully back to Damien when their future drinks had been paid for, he listened to him elaborate with a quiet smile.

It might look as though he was feigning interest, but after the worst month of his life, after being forced to re-evaluate his entire existence, having a trivial conversation about construction work, and ghost stories felt exactly like what he needed right now. “You do?” He asked. “Really? Some guy you work with saw a ghost?” Unable to hide how amused he was by the idea of a dead woman stealing someone’s tools, he took a long drink before offering a shrug. “I think I’d be pissed too, you know. If I was stuck in a house forever, I’d want it to stay looking how it looked when I was alive. Otherwise it wouldn’t feel like home anymore…”

Damien’s grin cut just a little deeper into his cheek as Milo freed up some bills for their next round. Really, he hadn’t expected him to pay their way and wouldn’t have objected to contributing towards the tab, but if there was one thing he couldn’t say no to it was a free drink. “Next time I see you around here, the drinks will be on me,” it wasn’t so much as a promise as it was an offer, Milo was free to take it up or leave it. Damien lifted his glass and finished it, accepting the new one with a nod of thanks rewarded to his company.

“I do,” Damien wasn’t much of a believer in the supernatural, he would have never thought werewolves actually existed until he was met with the proof of their teeth digging into his skin. The event didn’t make him a believer of other unnatural creatures, though White Crest had a way of challenging him on that front. “He said he saw a woman,” Damien leaned forward over the table as he made the statement, emphasizing his disbelief in his co-worker. It was there Damien was forced to feel the influence of the alcohol, his head felt light from the movement before his back crashed back into the seat. He’d have to pace himself through his next drink if he hoped to make it back to his apartment standing. “None of us have seen her though. I haven’t.” The wolf’s head tilted as he digested what Milo said, contributing a few moments after with, “well, that’s the hard part though. These old houses aren’t going to stand much longer without work being done. They can either change, or continue to decay.” A small smirk developed on his features, “if I had to be stuck somewhere in the afterlife I’d aim for a place in the city. Things would always be changing but they’d never be boring. Who needs peace when they’re dead though, right?”

“Next time?” Milo asked, raising his eyebrows with a smirk. “So there’s going to be a next time?” It made him feel as though he might still be able to fall back into his old life. Parts of it, at the very least. If some things didn’t have to change then maybe, just maybe he would be able to stay sane. “You know I’m going to take you up on that offer. I never say no to a drink.” As if to prove his point, he took a sip from his glass, listening to Damien as he began to elaborate on the woman his colleague had seen. Never in his life had he been forced to take a stance on whether he believed in the supernatural. It had been meaningless, inconsequential. Now, it was something he considered more often than not. Almost every second of every day was spent grappling with the fact that he was dead. That he had no heartbeat. He craved literal Human blood. If he existed, then what else was out there?

Catching the implication behind Damien’s tone, he laughed quietly, grateful to be drawn out of his thoughts. “Is this colleague not a reliable source?” He asked, his eyes shining with a quiet humour. “I know how that goes…” He was fairly sure he could approach almost anybody from his past and tell them he was a vampire. Without a doubt they would assume he was high, brush off his admission as the ramblings of somebody who couldn’t be trusted. “You’re the ‘see it to believe it’ type, huh?” He leaned backwards just a little as he waited for his company’s scent to fade. Every time Damien leaned towards him, or shifted in a way that created a draft, he was reminded of just how much he was risking. “Hm, I guess that’s true.” He took a moment to mull over the logistics. “Then maybe it isn’t about being pissed. Maybe she’s got a thing for builders.” He teased. “Maybe she likes to watch.” His tone was suggestive, he couldn’t help himself. Any opportunity to make a joke, to feel as though things were as simple as they used to be.

Taking another drink when Damien began to talk about how he would like to spend his afterlife, the subject felt a little too close to the very thing he was trying to forget. He took in the words, making an effort not to fully process them so that their conversation could remain light, and easy. “I don’t think you get to choose where you end up.” He pointed out. “And I’d say a lot of people, peace is probably pretty great if you compare it to some of the alternatives.”

“Then it’s settled, next time I’ll pick up the bill,” most of the money Damien earned that wasn’t spent on necessities was wasted on alcohol. He didn’t see a reason to save, if his revenge resulted in his demise all of the belongings he’d obtained would just be put to the curb. There was no one around here to understand the value of his possessions. The idea of dying did not bother Damien the way it should, the way it unnerved most. He’d learned to live with death a long time ago, grappled with it the first time he washed blood from his hands. It had become so commonplace it no longer hung above him like a threat.

Briefly, Damien thought back on his co-worker, their history on the site, and their claims. “I just don’t trust him,” the truth sounded harsh, but it wasn’t meant as an offense. Damien didn’t trust most people. “Last week he called off and left us short because of a family matter, then I saw him later that night at the bar.” It wasn’t like he had much of a reason to care what the hell the guy did in his free time, but he had to work harder to make up for the absence. Instead of answering the question Damein returned it to Milo, “you’re not?” Since moving to this town Damien had encountered supernatural creatures and events that had fractured his former beliefs. Still, he struggled to accept them until he was forced to. “A lot of things can happen in the shadows, it’s easy to blame a monster.”

A huff of laughter came as a reply at the suggestive remark, “you might be right. Who doesn’t love a show?” He didn’t chase after the subject too much on the afterlife, instead he gave a wicked grin, “let’s hope we’re a ways from peace then, and the afterlife, for now,” and then took a drink of his beer as if to toast to it.

Milo grinned, feeling himself steadily falling over the edge of tipsy and into the wonderful world of being drunk. This was what he had been hoping for, a night of pretence. A night of not worrying about the things he knew he should be worrying about. Good company, and some drinks. What more could he possibly ask for? “Hm, could he have been drinking because of the family matter?” He asked. “I know my family has driven me to drink on more than one occasion…” Tapping his fingers against his glass, he made it clear with his demeanour that he wasn’t taking sides. It more than made sense not to trust somebody who took the day off and then spent the night in a bar. But he also kind of understood how that might happen. A frown creasing his brow as he considered the unexpected question, it felt stupid to deny anything.

Until recently, he had never given the supernatural much thought. But if something had made itself known to him, then what choice would he have but to accept it as truth? Wasn’t that essentially what he was doing right now? “Yeah, I guess I kind of am that way.” He admitted. “But it’s not like I didn’t believe in shit, I just never really thought about it… when stuff shows up it isn’t like you can deny it. Not unless you’re fucking insane...” Maybe he was being a little careless with his remarks, but his tongue had been loosened, and he always had been reckless. “Oh, yeah? What are you blaming the monsters for?” He asked, attempting to inject some humour into his tone. “It’d be nice to have someone to blame for my timekeeping skills, maybe my smoking- Mom used to hate the smell of smoke on my clothes.”

Feeling a strange sense of satisfaction when he managed to make Damien laugh, he raised his glass. It felt twisted somehow, toasting to the afterlife. Didn’t this technically count as his? Or could he die again? Come back as a ghost or a zombie or some other creature he used to believe only existed in fiction? Using his intoxication to force those questions from his mind, he smiled, catching his company’s eye. “Cheers!” Downing the contents of his glass, something that was so much easier to do now that he didn’t need to breathe, he only set it down when he knew it was empty.

The idea of his co-worker being unnerved by something at home then finding the bar for comfort received no sympathy from Damien, instead he gave a swift dismissive reply, “fuck if I know, I didn’t ask.” Then the alcohol quickly caused the man to fade from his thoughts as they moved to the next topic. Damien noticed he had to exert more effort to focus on Milo’s response, there was something odd there, “what kind of stuff shows up around you?” He hadn’t really considered what he was asking, didn’t think the answer could be more strange than the creatures he’d encountered lately. Damien’s voice was rough when he answered the inquiry, “everything,” it had been a slip, something released during his drunken haze that he couldn’t catch after it was set free. Damien did consider the werewolves that had killed his family monsters, but that wasn’t a topic he’d divulge in any setting.

The rest of Damien’s beer is finished with the toast, the wolf moving to stand moments afterwards. It proved to be a hasty mistake. The drinks had finally caught up to him and Damien swayed just slightly, catching himself by snaring fingers into Milo’s shirt till the weight of his body felt more even. “Think that’s enough for me for the night. Better quit while I can still walk,” a loose chuckle left his chest as he released Milo from his grasp. “Come on, you can smoke outside with me, cool air might sober me up some, and I don’t mind if it sticks to your clothes.” A little unsteady, Damien moved his way through the bar, pushing past a patron when necessary till they found their way outside the pub.

It was pretty clear to Milo that Damien had started drinking long before he arrived at the bar, and as time moved on he began to see the effects of the alcohol. Feeling drunk himself, it was too easy to smile at the offhand comment. So he shook his head as he realised his friend had picked up on his subtleties, regardless of his current state. Maybe his subtleties weren’t so subtle after all. “Nothing-” He hurried to take his words back. “I mean, nothing super weird. Just forget I said anything.” He should probably make more of an effort not to draw attention to the changes in his life. But it was so difficult when they were all consuming. Damien was one of the first people he had been able to talk to, and he needed that more than he wanted to admit.

Everything. He had been too distracted by his own thoughts to notice any shift in Damien’s expression, but there was something about the way the word was spoken that told him this wasn’t something he could joke about. He couldn’t turn this comment into something funny, or lighthearted. The tone carried so many emotions he couldn’t place, and it left him wondering, with a burning curiosity, just what had happened for him to sound so hurt. “Everything, huh? Shit…” Not expecting him to sway as he stood, the hand on his chest was something he hadn’t been ready for. Holding his breath, it took everything he had to stay where he was. To not react.

Waiting until Damien was upright, and no longer gripping his shirt, he nodded in response, too shaken by the sudden proximity to say very much. “Yeah…” He muttered quietly. “Yeah, okay. We can go outside.” Pulling a carton of cigarettes from his hoodie, he placed one between his lips. It was a distraction from what he was really craving. Maybe if he focused on smoking, he could ignore the growing need for something far more sinister. Standing up too, he offered Damien a smile at the comment, holding the carton out so that he could take a smoke too. “Good to know.” He attempted to tease, but his voice was strained as he attempted to prepare himself for the short journey. Holding his breath again as they were forced to brush past patrons, his knuckles turned white as he balled his hands into fists. It didn’t take them long to reach the door, but it may as well have been an eternity.

It was strange, how defensive his company became over the question. It was far more suspicious that he hurriedly warded off any more attention on the subject. “You’ll have to be a better liar about that,” Damien advised, it might have amused him sober, that Milo tried to hide a potentially dangerous topic. If he knew Damien better, he’d know that any risky or threatening subject only drew in his attention more. They were fortunate however, that in his drunken haze any thoughts that begged to chase after the response slid away from his mind.

Damien was forced to realize soon after he stood that he had not been so careful with his own speech, not that he typically was. The single word had snared Milo’s attention but Damien did not provide a response to his inquiry. He didn’t think someone who had been dodging hard questions would want to hear about the dark chapters of his life, which suited him fine, he didn’t want to read those aloud anyway. Damien accepted the cigarette offered to him and moved on.

As the pair exited the pub to be introduced to the sidewalk Damien freed a lighter from his pocket. He flicked the switch till a little flame danced up, bringing it to the end of his own cigarette before igniting Milo’s. As the light was brought close to his company’s face he could see stress lingering on his features but didn’t comment on it, instead he took a long drag of his cigarette and let his feet start to carry him down the sidewalk on the path back to his apartment.

“Fuck you, I’m not lying.” Milo insisted, his tone friendly even as he caught himself scowling. He didn’t enjoy being easily read, though sometimes it felt entirely unavoidable. Lucky for him, he knew his company wasn’t one to push for answers. They seemed to dance around certain topics which he was more than happy to do, even if it did leave him curious. So long as Damien didn’t make any attempt to pry, he would offer the same level of courtesy. Taking a grateful breath of fresh air as they escaped the stifling environment of the bar, it wasn’t long before his cigarette was being lit for him, and he smiled, genuinely grateful. It was a relief, he could feel his anxiety loosen it grip on his chest, albeit only a little.

Smoking had been a strange habit to continue after his death. Although his body still called out for Nicotine, the specific act of inhaling and exhaling was something he was forced to relearn, to really focus on. Letting out a slow, deliberate hiss of air, he watched smoke curl above him, stark against the night sky. Paying no attention to where they were going, when Damien didn’t stop he assumed he had a destination in mind. He was very much over fearing for his safety, not that he ever had in life. Which meant it was easier to simply follow. Falling into step beside him, he hummed quietly to himself. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, but frustratingly felt as though he couldn’t. “So…” He murmured, breaking the silence. “You’ve been in White Crest your whole life?”

The cold had not in fact sobered him up. Damien felt his world tilt just a little before it righted itself and his thoughts swam in and out of his focus as smoke twisted between his fingers and uncurled from his lips. He was aware of Milo beside him, that as the pair progressed down the streets towards his apartment that they were more alone. It was a dangerous thing, keeping his company, but Milo seemed to follow regardless.

“No, no,” he began in answer when Damien caught the question, “I moved here from New York a few months ago. I thought I’d be gone by now, but, here we are.” That was a little too much honesty, as he turned to look at Milo, more seemed to slip out. “You know, you remind me a little of someone I used to know. He could hold his own at a bar too but he was a little more…” Damien struggled then, because the man in reference meant more than a few sentences could summarize. And he was dead. Instead of continuing, Damien took another drag of his cigarette and let the subject slip past him as he continued, “Different, I guess. Anyway, what about you? Have you always had roots here or did you come from somewhere else?”

“Oh, shit.” Milo couldn’t hide his surprise upon hearing Damien was originally from New York. He had never been the type to dream, more than content to live in the present, to lose himself in his pills, and his alcohol. But cities had always interested him. He couldn’t deny the faint draw he felt when he considered what it might be like to live in one. “New York? How the hell did you end up in this shithole?” He couldn’t imagine having the opportunity to live in New York, only to settle for somewhere like White Crest. The town had its merits, but it was still just a town. Sleepy, and dull, despite the vampires apparently lurking in the shadows. A frown creasing his brow, he took a long drag of smoke before looking back up at his company. He could only assume the familiarity wasn’t a compliment.

“I do?” He asked, absentmindedly tapping ash. “You know a lot of screw ups then?” Maybe it was an unfair comment to make, but also a reflection of his self esteem. There were very few people he allowed to see this particular side of himself, but it was late, he was drunk, and he trusted Damien. “Oh, yeah? Different how?” He was curious to know, he couldn’t stop the question from escaping his lips. Following it up with a shrug, he was almost embarrassed to admit he was from such a stifling place. “Born, and raised…” And died. He added silently. “My parents are from here... and their parents. And I assume their parents. S’not like it makes much of a difference. I got stuck here, same as everyone else.”

Damien’s attention is snared in his drunken haze when his company reacts to his hometown. He had lived in New York all his life, when you set up roots there you don’t think about the appeal of the skyline, you just think about what places you tended to grow more. It was only after Damien was forced to make the decision to leave the city that he had to recognize everything he’d loved about it and the loss that came with moving. “Oh, well,” what reason had he been telling people? In his state, he couldn’t remember. “I had family there...’ no, his chest ached at the memory, his mind dragging him away from the train of thought. He didn’t want to talk about that. Anything but that. He pulled himself together as best he could and tried to muddle down the slip in honesty. “Started heading over here to get a change of scenery. Then the car broke down.” It was a shitty lie.

A sigh eluded him as his thoughts were brought back to the person in his past. It had been a long time since he had left himself think of Tristan. “Yeah I guess he was a bit of a screw up, I seem to be drawn to them,” a small smile cracked his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette. The difference with Tristan was that he got close. He knew who Damien was, learned what he was capable of, and stuck around anyway. But he was too close, to his gang, his heart. He ruined him. Someone aware of the fallout might assure Damien that he’d done all he could but he would have refused this little self-help tip. The fact of the matter was that Tristan would have never gotten involved in drugs if Damien’s lifestyle hadn’t introduced it to him. The cold truth of it was more sobering that any gust of air and Damien just shrugged. He couldn’t confess what the man meant to him, admit just how different he was.

It was easier to turn his attention to Milo, “you don’t want to be stuck here anymore?” The cigarette in his hand was burning low, he took one last pull from it before extinguishing it on a building they passed.

“Hm,” Milo hummed quietly in response. “I know what it’s like... leaving family behind. It used to be through choice…” He scuffed his shoes as he walked, scowling at the ground. “Now, not so much.” It was strange to consider how many times he had tried to actively remove his parents from his life. It was difficult to do when you lived in such a small town, and one way or another, he always managed to get dragged back into their bullshit. But this time? This time there was no getting dragged back. This time it had to be final, he wasn’t sure he was quite ready to face that truth just yet. “Wait- your car broke down and you just decided fuck it, I guess I live here now?” He made no effort to hide his disbelief, even if had wanted to he knew his current state of inebriation would make doing so impossible. Laughing quietly when Damien told him he was drawn to screw ups, he caught his eye, grateful for the lighthearted teasing. “No shit.” He teased right back, unable to help himself. “If you ask my dad I’m about as useless as they come, so I guess you got lucky.”

Following his friend’s lead, he took one final drag from his own cigarette before dropping it too. Usually he found a degree of satisfaction in grinding it beneath his shoe, watching the cherry burn out as he carefully destroyed the filter. But he was feeling lazy, so he left it, red and hot against the asphalt. “It’s not something I ever really thought about.” He admitted. “But, I don’t know… shit got weird, and I-” He swallowed, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment as he grappled with his emotions. It was difficult to say the words out loud, part of him didn’t even know why he wanted to. “I guess I don’t really know who I am anymore…” He said finally, the admission tumbling from his lips. “The idea of a world beyond this town is- well, it’s fucking terrifying.”

There was something peculiar, in the remorseful way Milo regarded what choice, or lack thereof, he had relating to his family. It caught Damien’s attention but he couldn’t articulate what about the strangeness of the subject he wanted to question. Had the guy been kicked out? That might explain why he confessed before his week had been a mess. Or was it something else? Too many factors spun in Damien’s thoughts and it made him feel light headed trying to chase one or the other so he didn’t. Even if he wanted to invest some effort into it, Milo called him out on his lie and he had to think of a better way to justify it. “Had to get some money to fix the car,” that was also a lie, but he didn’t think it mattered “Got the job to get the money. Car’s fixed now, but other bills followed. Been trying to catch up ever since.”

The self-deprecating way Milo referred to himself had started to wear Damien down. He did not enjoy seeing his companion reduce himself to something low. Damien had spent most of his life around other low-life criminals, even joining them; they had savored the chaos in their life and shook free of restraints. He couldn’t understand why Milo would allow for himself to carry such burdensome titles like useless. It didn’t seem like he had a right to ask.

Damien listened as intently as he could to Milo admission. He didn’t think they were just talking about moving anymore. “If you don’t know who you are...then the next step is to decide who you want to be.” He stopped, they finally arrived at Damien’s apartment. It was an old manufacturing building renovated for housing, rift with safety hazardous but it had become his new home in this town. “This is where I get off,” he turned to Milo, offering a small smile, “I’d invite you up, but it is a terrifying world in there. I haven’t done my dishes in a week.” He let the humor sit for a moment before adding, “you can go wherever you want. A few blocks, a few states. Just depends what you’re looking for.”

Milo watched Damien curiously, an element of scepticism clear on his face. It didn’t sound remotely plausible, and if he could, he would put money on the story not being true. Then again, he wasn’t exactly being honest himself. He wanted to push for more, but it went against his nature. Part of him liked to think if he didn’t question people, then they wouldn’t question him. For the most part, the logic had proven fair. “Small towns have a way of never letting you go.” He murmured. “For what it’s worth, I’m kind of glad you got stuck… who else am I supposed to drown my sorrows with?” After everything he had suffered recently, moments like these felt incredibly rare. He was genuinely glad he had crossed paths with Damien, genuinely glad he was getting to spend more time with him.

Coming to a halt as he could only assume they finally reached his friend’s apartment, he leaned against a nearby wall. How many ridiculous instagram posts had he seen? Posts about becoming who you truly are, and discovering who you were always meant to be... As far as he was concerned they were for young parents who were bored out of their minds, or teenagers stuck in retail jobs, dreaming about becoming rich and famous. He had never asked himself those questions before, because they didn’t feel like important questions. Why would he ever need to think about who Milo Summers was? Who even cared about the answer? “That sounds like a lot of work.” He admitted, laughing sheepishly. “I’m not entirely sure I’m up for it.” Offering Damien a smile in return, he hadn’t been expecting an invitation. It was too easy to go home with a stranger, but they knew each other now. Besides, he knew better than to trust himself alone with anyone, given his current state. The days of being careless were unfortunately behind him. “You know, I don’t think it’s ever going to be that simple… not for me.” He admitted. “But I appreciate your optimism.”

Damien’s back fell against the brick exterior for support as he dug through his pocket for the keys to the place. There was something decidedly sad about the way Milo relayed he was happy Damien stuck around, the added pinch of humor didn’t sugarcoat it. There was a sinking feeling from the statement that caused him to sway from the weight of it and fumble retrieving the keys. He did not know how to manage someone being glad he was here, he especially didn’t know how to respond to it drunk. He admittedly didn’t like the idea of someone getting close enough to appreciate anything about his existence, it meant they were close enough to see how fucked up his life had been. No one needed to see that.

After trying in vain for what felt like several long minutes, Damien finally released his keys from his pocket. Then had spent another five pulling up the right key and fitting it into the lock. Fucking hell, being drunk was difficult. “Well,” Damien began, finally confident now that he’d opened the door, “let me know what you figure out.” Shit, no. He shouldn’t be asking for more details, shouldn’t be inviting him to another night out. It was too late to take it back, and he didn’t really want to anyway. Damien slipped past the door then, struggled his way up a set of stairs, and crashed on the couch in his apartment.

#c:damien #milo and damien #alcoholism tw #drugs tw #addiction tw #violence mention tw

6 notes · View notes

toysoldiers-rwby · 4 years

Text

[CS] 1. The Rebels

Cutting Strings

Characters: Penny, Ironwood, Pietro, Aro Word Count: 5k

Penny is almost ready to leave the lab. But is she truly ready for how unpredictable the world can be?

Read on Ao3

Day 239 since creation. Day three since latest artificial skin tear. Three trials cleared.

Penny waited as Dr. Pietro and General Ironwood configured the training room. She closed her eyes and bounced on her feet. Processors warming up for the trial to come, with a review of the previous ones.

The second test was the easiest and soon breathing became second nature. Dr. Pietro and General Ironwood tested her strength. Several broken equipment later, they tested her control. That was the hardest to pass. Everything broke under metal fingers. Dr. Pietro had to make several alterations to the synthetic skin Penny wore. It was a complicated mix of Dust and wires that relayed Aura and pressure to her processors.

The first test overloaded her systems. Too many inputs, too many anomalies. But strangest error was conflicting drivers…

Penny realized it after the 5th prototype. Father didn’t design the artificial skin! No scientist, or official Atlesian scientist did! Ironwood was very hesitant and careful with his words whenever she had asked about it.

Dr. Pietro smiled and said, “You’ll meet her… hopefully soon.”

Penny frowned remembering it. Father said the last bit softly, as if he was whispering to himself. Like it was a secret from the General. But he couldn’t have forgotten her sensitive hearing. One that could detected a change in his voice, even if Penny did not know what it meant. Yet. It was similar to when Ironwood talked about the council.

Was it contempt? What did it feel like?

“Ahem. Penny, darling?” Dr. Pietro called out. A hand rested against her own and Penny opened her eyes. Her background processors did tell her someone was approaching but she was too focused on internal questions.

“Is the last trial ready?”

“Yes but… is something on your mind?”

“Is that possible?” Penny asked with wonder. “The mind doesn’t take physical form so-”

“No, no, darling,” Dr. Pietro chuckled softly. He let her hand go after softly patting it. “You seemed to be thinking hard about something.”

“Oh!” Penny perked up, “It’s about who created this artificial skin. Does General Ironwood not want me to meet them? If they are capable of adding functionality or upgrades wouldn’t it be more productive if they know what I am?”

Dr. Pietro was silent for a moment. Penny saw his eyes flicker, small twitches in his face before everything smoothed out. He let out a long and tired sigh, “I guess brains run in the family.” He muttered. She noted soft whispering seems to be personal so she didn’t comment on how brains don’t have the functionality to run. “I tried convincing James but… there are other factors at work.”

“Hm…” Penny nodded. It wasn’t answer but she was satisfied with the attempt. For now.

Penny entered the training room. Hard-light shaping the room into one with random short square. Up in the control room, Penny could see the unique silhouette of her father and his chair next to Ironwood. They talked briefly before the General’s voice came through the speakers.

“Penny, your final test is a combat test. Your goal isn’t just to destroy the bots, it’s to show me what your made of.”

She frowned, head tilting and raising a brow. “But sir… You already know what I’m made of.”

There was a moment of silence. Then some soft chuckling through the speakers. “Show me that you are combat ready.”

That lit a spark in Penny. She grinned, swords flaring from her backpack. “Yes, sir!”

Side panels opened an Atlesian Knight-130 marched into the training room. They were… stiff. Mechanical. She looked at her own hands for a moment. Opening and closing them. The artificial skin detected her fist, hide the ball joints. Everything looked natural…

Penny looked forward, “Ready, sir!”

The AK-130 opened fired and marched forward. The bullets were easy to deflect with Floating Array and it took little effort to slice them open. She took a moment, looking at the sparks and wires…Then next wave AK-130 marched forward, opening fire. It was wasn’t a challenge. They were predictable. Her own programming was far beyond what the AK line could simulate.

2, 3, 4 waves later and she looked to the control room. Penny saw two additional figures before the speakers on the AK-130 crackled to life.

“Security Breached-”

“Uh! Ignore that!” A stranger’s voice quickly said over intercom. “I have full permission to alter their program this time!”

“This time…” Another women softly muttered with a snort.

For a moment the AK-130’s guns lowered. Then several in the rear broke out into a sprint- Penny gasped. Flanking maneuvers were beyond this current model. Her instincts moved Floating Array in front of her. Spinning blades slicing bullets. Two bots ran left. Two running right. Three marched forward, a constant burst of bullets.

Penny retreated back. Floating Array shifted into guns and boosted her into cover. That was her intention anyway. She technically didn’t need it-

“Oh!” A bullet bounced off the hard-light structure. Penny stepped behind it. There was a conflict in her programming. There was a 100% chance of success in standing her ground and fighting, a 20% she might get hit. But… she wasn’t scared. So what if she got hit? Her chassis can withstand more pressure than the bullets can create. Yet was just something telling her to protect herself.

But she was not in any real danger.

The flanking robots appeared first, only to be shot in half. Floating Array spun around her. Red and faint smoke caught her eye. She had charged it too fast. With a small frown Penny shifted it back into her swords. Jumping out of cover she sent them flying forward, piercing the remaining three robots.

After that the waves blurred together. No breaks. Just an endless stream. The bots grew more and more challenging. From basic flanking maneuvers to militant sacrifices and distractions. Sometimes her own AI struggled to find a satisfying solution and it left her frozen on the battlefield. Then the bigger guns came out.

The Spider Droid.

It dropped in front of her from the ceiling. Metal tiles broke under its feet, a small explosion of sparks, wires, and broken metal. Penny blinked up at it. That didn’t make sense. General Ironwood would never allow such a dangerous-

The cannons charged.

Penny stood her ground, stance widening as Floating Array charged for another attack.

The intercom crackled, the two strangers bickering despite the General’s presence.

“Are you crazy!? That will kill her!”

“Ironwood said not to hold back!”

“Of course an Atlesian wouldn’t understand consequence! Shut it down or-”

Penny gasped. The cannons fired before they were fully charged. Floating Array pushed her back, firing at the ground just avoiding the attack.

“Glade! Get back this instant!” This time Ironwood’s voice rang through the speakers instead of being muffled through thick glass. A few seconds later the doors of the training room opened. A women with familiar yet unfamiliar gold horns skated in on hard-light blades that cut into the metal floor. She was in the Military’s Database, but file came up. Not an ally, not another soldier, a student… A civilian.

What was the General doing? Why was she in this facility?

Penny frowned. “Ma’am. Please evacuate.”

The goat Faunus paused, staring at her with… an expression. One Penny have never seen in the labs, with her father or General Ironwood. Brows furrowed, mouth in a small scowl, head tilted. Did Faunus express themselves different? Penny filed it away for later. Right now a flash of alarm came over the Faunus features.

“Move!” In a burst of bright red and purple she was suddenly carrying Penny. Metal talons of the giant security bot pierced the floor where they both once stood.

Her metal frame was nearly five times stronger than the floor. Without reinforcing it with Aura. “Your assistance is not necessary!” Penny frowned struggling against a surprisingly tight hold.

“Glade!” The General’s voice came from the speakers again. It was lower, hard. Her programming instantly recognize it as commanding and furious. She didn’t like it. “Do not interrupt Ms. Polendina’s combat test.”

“Not happening Tin Man!” The women yelled back with a roll of her eyes. Glowing Eyes… Civilians don’t normally have their semblance unlocked. Penny heard a soft sound of metal cutting metal and looked down. The hard-light blades barely floated above the surface, then it dug deep stopping the drift. Purple glow and weightlessness despite Penny’s high density? Gravity Dust, Penny concluded with a nod, and a very skilled, non-civilian usage of it. “Besides, you seriously thought I’d just stand by and watch? What does my record say?”

*“Technically Glade doesn’t have a record because she was found innocent of all the 43 charges of assault. Or she was assisting legal Huntsmen, so there for it wasn’t assault.” The hacker’s voice playfully informed.

Glade huffed, glaring up at the control room. Then those glowing blue eyes shifted to Penny. “Want to shut them up?”

“I… I…” Penny froze. Her processors didn’t know what to make of Glade’s tone or grin. Part of her said not to follow the advice of a women with a possible criminal record. But this situation was an anomaly her simulators could never mimic. Curiously eventually won but Penny’s caution didn’t fade. “Possibly. What do you have in mind?”

“Teach that Atlesian what consequence means.” Glade suddenly dodged back, eyes not leaving Penny even as several shots followed her. The women easily dodged them all. “The main cannon is on cooldown! We need to piss it off first!”

“That is counterproductive to my goal!”

Glade rolled her eyes. Much to Penny’s relief, the possible Civilian stopped blindly dodging and finally looked at the Spider Droid. Penny noted the glowing Dust in the women’s legs. It glowed a soft purple, as gravity gently lifted her off the ground again. Small debris floated until Glade drifted away.

“Is it really a victory if it ain’t fun?” The non-combative asked with a wink. Penny frowned and didn’t answer. She allowed Glade to focus on dodging.

Why would enjoyability of her mission override the results?

The fight continued and with two targets the Spider Droid was more aggressive. Penny was more passive. She couldn’t take any drastic measures with an unknown variable on the field. She had to be more careful, more mindful of the synthetic skin hiding her metal frame. Worst yet she couldn’t entirely focus on the Droid. More and more processing power went to Glade, trying to predict her next move and analyzing the fastest way to help her.

The Faunus women should be frighten. She had no weapon to defend against one of Atlas’ strongest military robots. Instead, the non-combative laughed. A glance at Floating Array showed no signs of overheating. She sent the blades as deep as she could get it into the Spider Droid’s chassis.

Too deep.

Penny gasped, pulling the strings but it didn’t budge. Glade jumped on, gravity Dust latching her onto the metal as if it was the floor. She pulled at the handle of the swords but that didn’t work either.

“And victory goes to me!” The hacker laughed over the speakers. The main cannons started charging again. Glade cursed, kicking at the joints but the hard-light blades on her legs couldn’t cleave through the thick metal.

“Jump!” Glade yelled.

Certainly Penny didn’t hear right, “Jump?”

“Yes! Jump!” Glade repeated. “As high as you can!” Penny jumped but didn’t obey the second command. That much force would break the floor. Of course the Droid’s targeting parameters means that the cannon followed her up. The Faunus ran off the barrel and waited a few seconds.

The cannon hummed louder and louder, energy shining bright.

Then Glade leaped off, lunging at Penny and grabbing her. “Oh shit,” Gravity pulled hard on both of them. Much harder than anticipated, with Penny’s mass. Penny barely had time to shift their positions, moving Glade on top of her as her robotic body created small crater in the floor, bending tiles up and causing broken wires to spark at her false skin.

Beyond Glade, Penny saw the cannon aimed at-

“The control room!” Penny gasped.

“Off, off, off!” The hacker’s fingers scrambled across the keyboard. “I can’t-”

Dad!

Penny shoved Glade off her. She charged Floating Array for a full shot and aimed for the rear joints of its legs. It pierce through. The Spider Droid tilted back, impact just a few feet above the control room. Hard-light barrier flickering at the impact. The Spider Droid shut flickered, smoke coming from the joints as it overheated and shut down.

It reminded Penny to take a deep breath. Her Aura was awake and sending nearly overwhelming power through her circuits. Emergency took priority over her own systems and they were on the verge of overheating as well. Penny slowly eased out of a battle stance. It took a while for her combat analysis to catch up and finally read the situation as a success.

It helped that Glade was on the floor laughing. She had a hand over her eyes, “Goddess and Gods! I’ve never been more terrified in my life.”

“And…” Penny frowned looking down at her. “You’re laughing?”

“I’m alive, unharmed, rescued by a cute girl.” Glade listed. There was a quiver to her voice, almost smoothed out with a grin. Penny frowned down at her. Glade, the other visitor called her. “Where’s the negative?” Glade asked rolling onto her knees and pushing herself onto her feet- prosthetic feet, most of her legs were metal- with a long groan. “I’m out of breath. How do people do this?”

“With proper training, one you rejected time and time again,” Ironwood answered through the speakers. Even as Glade made a face and attempted to wave away the voice. “Ms. Glade, Ms. Xanthic. Thank you for your… assistance. A transport will be here shortly to return you both home.”

“Of course he’d want me gone as soon as possible. Can’t blame him,” Glade sighed under her breath. She gave Penny a smile as she walked… or floated- how much gravity Dust is on that women, to the door, “Nice to finally meet you!”

Penny wasn’t sure if the feeling was mutual.

When she returned to the control room. The two strangers were gone but they left small pieces of evidence. Coffee rings on the terminal, which all Atlesian military personal and student faculty knew not to do. Some bits of candy and scratch marks on the floors were proof that Glade was up here too.

“Penny.”

She stood at attention, eyes snapping back to General Ironwood. “Yes, sir?”

“I apologize, I haven’t been completely honest with the final trial.” The General started, “It wasn’t just a combat test, but also how you would handle yourself in an uncontrolled environment, with… unorthodox civilians.” So General Ironwood… brought in a hacker and Glade because he knew and wanted them to disobey orders?

“Gah,” Dr. Pietro scoffed at him, waving Ironwood’s concerns away. “What do you think of Glade, darling?”

Penny paused, replaying footage of the fight. “She’s… good with Dust. Reckless.” Glade dodged without acknowledging the Spider Droid, "Very perceptive." She listed. But it didn’t feel right.

“But what do you think of her?” Dr. Pietro gently prodded.

Penny hummed, trying to turn off her combative protocols and focus beyond the fight. It was difficult. Her programing was confused, telling Penny a civilian wouldn’t run towards danger. “I don’t… understand?”

“She ran out because she thought you were in danger,” Dr. Pietro corrected with a smile. Penny didn’t like the way it lacked the same muscles as usual. How it slowly sank into… something sad? “Glade is hotheaded and stubborn at times, but she’s brilliant. And deep, deep beneath it all, caring.”

“It’s because of that brilliance she shouldn’t be sent on this mission,” Ironwood argued, but it had no real effort in the tone. “Though I suppose a personal connection with you Doctor, will ensure Penny’s success.”

Penny frowned, staying silent until she was finally addressed again. Ironwood listed many cons against Glade and the hacker while her father gently persuaded that some of them were advantages. Her father was silent as the General emphasis that they weren’t trustworthy.

Finally Ironwood sighed, “Penny.” She stood at attention again. “One fight doesn’t prove that you are ready for true combat, against the Grimm, against higher powers, but you have proven capable of fulfilling this duty.” This felt a little redundant but Penny didn’t speak up. She willed her processors to focus on what Ironwood was saying instead of comparing the list of pros and cons herself. How can a kind person be untrustworthy- “So we are sending you to the Vytal Festival.”

“What?” Penny gasped. Her Aura flared a crossed her systems, giving more energy than she needed. She found herself bouncing, fist tightly clenched. “I’m going to Vale!”

“And school,” Dr. Pietro added with a smile.

At that Penny paused, head tilted in confusion. Anything she’d need to know about fighting Grimm could easily be downloaded. Studying was… an obsolete method to obtain information for her.

“It would be suspicious if a student with your talents suddenly appeared at the Vytal festival with no public record. The other nations may try to accuse Atlas of cheating.” Ironwood said with a soft chuckle. “Ms. Glade is one of the possible teammates we have chosen for you.”

“Oh! I think me and Ms. Glade will get along splendidly-” Penny cut herself off with a gasp. What did Glade say? Nice to finally meet you. They did call her brilliant- “Did she design the sensors in the Artificial skin?”

General Ironwood frowned, looking at his right arm. “That… and more,” He said, one again whispering the last bit under his breath. His face was different than her father’s when he did it, but it was definitely not a positive emotion. Could the same physical behavior be used for more than one emotion? Why did the General not trust Glade?

“Father, may I formally met Ms. Glade?”

Dr. Pietro let out a nervous and sad laugh. “Soon, darling. We’ll let Glade recover first. She’s not who she used to be,” His eyes shifted to Ironwood. Why? Whatever look that crossed over her father’s face was gone in an organic blink. “And Ms. Xanthic pushed that Spider Droid well past its limitations.”

With the meeting winding down and Penny’s final trial run a success she was dismissed back to the labs. Her walk was quiet and undisturbed. Only her father and Ironwood had permanent access to this facility. A brief research into Ms. Glade brought up several women in the data banks. She filtered her Faunus Horns and found none.

Penny frowned and adjusted the parameters. Instead of horned Faunus she filtered it to all Faunus’. Only one women came up but the features were wrong. Instead of those golden horns wrapping around her head there was ears protruding from the sides. She looked at the meta data for the date.

Weird right? She looks better with the horns.

Penny paused. Tempering with official Atlas records was a criminal offense. And it was not a glitch. Penny refreshed her visual feed, blinking a few times and referred the page on Glade. The photo changed to one that did not fit Atlas’ requirements for a dossier. All photos must be shoulders up, forward facing with a neutral expression.

This one had several people it and was dynamic. Glade struggled against another Faunus who laughed and used her legs to keep a golden prosthetic horn out of reach- as it sunk into her Deep Pockets. Or at least Penny hoped the horns were prosthetics. The photo itself could be altered. A hacker was not a reliable source of information.

Huntress Fiona Thyme bullying civilian Aurora Glade.

Penny looked around. The hallway was empty but there were was a drop of evidence that someone other than her father and General Ironwood has passed through. Precisely a drop of coffee on the ground. Penny looked around, “Altering Atlas information is a poor method of communication, Ms. Xanthic.” Her scroll pinged before she was done speaking.

“It’s about sending a message.”

“How does changing the delivery method-”

“By the Brothers- I’m not one of Ironwood’s soldiers so he can’t order me around like one. I want to know what’s up.”

“Well… the city of Atlas is up.”

Penny had to wait a few seconds for a response. For some reason it made her nervous.

“Okay, plan b. We’re going to see the goat.”

“The goat- Ms. Glade!”

“Yep. I’ll meet you here.” Ms. Xanthic sent a map of the facility with a red blinking dot at the back. “All the cameras are on loop but hurry. I don’t want get caught again.”

Penny held the scroll to her chest. This… This wasn’t an approved course of action. Meeting a hacker skilled enough play with Atlas Drones and the database was not a smart thing a robot should do. But didn’t care. She bounced on her feet and looked around. If she snuck out her father would be disappointed… Right? But it seems that he wanted her to meet Ms. Glade. For unknown reasons General Ironwood is stopping him. Glade jumped in to rescue her, her father believes Glade is kind and trusting. The Faunus wouldn’t harm her…

But every reason and logic was drowned out by curiosity. This was a situation that was beyond what her simulators could produce.

“Okay.” Penny whispered to herself. She felt… unsure?

The ride to Mantle was awkward and silent, except for the soft music playing from the speakers. Ms. Xanthic was… not as welcoming or kind as Ms. Glades. The only similarity was their abnormal eyes. Glade’s glowed from her semblance while Xanthic’s was glowing obviously cybernetic.

Her first words to Penny was, “Don’t talk to me. Talk to Glade.” So Penny quietly sat in the transport and played with her hand.

Until the view outside… Outside the lab her attention.

“Wow! The sky is gorgeous!” The vast blue melted into pink and reds, brighter than the lights or plasma cutters in the lab. “It’s much different in person…” Penny closed her eyes and pressed her for head to the window. With a thought she recalled her visual data of just seconds before. The view of Atlas and Mantle, the setting sun and a palette of color Penny never saw within shining metal walls. It was better than the pre-installed photos. It was the same as the world beyond the window, pixel for pixel but… Being outside…

“Brothers, you really do sound like Glade sometimes,” Xanthic mumbled under her breath, cybernetic eyes rolling. “But… I know what you mean. Things haven’t been the same with these replacements.”

“If I may,” Penny said looking at the hacker. She gestured for the girl to continue talking, “What happen to your eyes?”

“Nothing you’ll find on the net,” Xanthic said. Her chest puffed out a little proud. The grin on her face matched her a lot better than the scowl but it was gone in a few seconds. “Seems like Dr. P gave you an upgraded version.”

“Oh um… Possibly.”

“What happen to yours?”

At that Penny found closed her mouth, lips pressed to a tight line. Nothing happened to them, she was created with these eyes. But that was highly confidential information. Penny is highly confidential information. She shouldn’t be out here. Penny looked at her hands in her lap, wringing them ever so slightly. If anyone applied the right pressure they could feel the ball joints in her fingers.

“A secret for a secret, Ms. Polendina,” Xanthic said resting back against the backseat. She took a shaky breath and hugged her jacket to herself. “I thought Mantle had heaters? How is it this cold.”

“I…” Penny couldn’t tell a stranger, a hacker, she was a robot and couldn’t feel the cold. “This is my first time in Mantle.”

“I guess… you can say it’s my first time down here too,” Xanthic said with a small laugh.

The silence afterwards was much more comfortable and shorter. The transport landed right on top a building. Penny thanked Xanthic’s robot butler who looked at her but did not respond. Instead Xanthic frowned and rolled her eyes, “So much like Glade…”

“Do you know Ms. Glade?” Penny asked following the women to the roof access. She watched her pull out her scroll. The hacker didn’t press it to the scanner for entry, she opened it and… Lines of code appeared- Xanthic hacked the locked and the door hissed open. Penny gasped, “We can’t break into Ms. Glade’s home!”

“Is it really trespassing if she’s expecting us?”

“Well, we are…” Penny paused double checking the dictionary and Atlesian laws in her head. “Not infringing on her privacy.” Penny wrung her hands again. This was definitely not acceptable behavior, even her father wanted her to meet Glade, he definitely disapprove of this. “Nor have we come with the intent to harm… but…” Glades may not want to harm Penny but this was a hacker. Penny could be lured into a trap though… she would easily be able to sense whatever was lurking in the dark and fight her way free.

“Oh, now the huntress-in-training is scared? Where was this with the Droid?” Xanthic said, once again rolling her eyes. Penny frowned. She wasn’t scared. Safety protocols was just overreacting again. “Then I’ll have Glade drag you in. And to answer your question, no. I don’t know the damn goat personally, Glade’s reputation precedes her.” Xanthic entered without checking to see if Penny would follow.

After a small nervous dance and looking around as if someone would order her, Penny finally entered the building. She made sure the door would properly lock behind them. Xanthic was just a few steps down, looking at the building’s layout on her scroll.

“Her living quarters are… second floor from the top. Fun fact, she owns the entire building and her shop is the first two floors. Space between that and her apartment are testing rooms, workshops and storage.” Xanthic pocketed her scroll and lead Penny down a few more steps then to a door which she immediately opened.

Penny expected another hall but instead was greeted by bright lights and a living room. Random bits of machinery laid scattered the place, almost in an organized mess. Penny could see an open drone on the coffee table, screws and internal parts too close to a prosthetic arm to be organized.

From the other end of the living room a door opened. Glade had that expression again, brows furred, mouth slightly open. After spending time with Xanthic, Penny realized Glade was glaring a little. Behind her another young adult in Police Academy uniform. She stared intensely at Ms. Xanthic.

“Ashley Xanthic. Age 19. Recently found guilty of hacking Atlesian Military Facility.”

That odd face Glade had on instantly turned to joy. At least that was something Penny knew. “And you were ragging on my record! You were dumb enough to get caught!” Glade said throwing her head back with a laugh.

Xanthic scowled, a blush contrasting her blue bob. “Shut it, you goat!” That only made Glade snort and laugh harder. “I have so many regrets.”

“I suppose breaking the law, multiple times, isn’t one of them.” The officer-in-training frowned. She walked around Glade but no further into the apartment. Her eyes inspected Penny, “You are… unknown.”

“She’s Penny Polendina,” Xanthic said while Glade tried gasping for air. She just laughed harder. The hacker hummed, not a pleasant hum like father’s singing. Xanthic had her lips parted in a slight scowl, so more of a growl than a hum? Ms. Xanthic waved her arms, “This bitch is Ciel Soleil, and you’ve already met Aurora Glade.”

“Play nice, Xan,” Glade giggled. It finally stopped once she detached her metal feet. There was a soft hiss from the prosthetic and from pain. Glade slotted lighter, simpler ones. Indoor feet, Penny giggled to herself. “Shoes off, make yourself at home! Apparently we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”

But Penny is a highly classified weapon. She wasn’t suppose to be out here, wasn’t suppose to be with people. “What… do you mean?” Penny asked hesitating. Her mind quickly fired up several scenarios, most of them involving the hacker discovering her origins-

“I was trying to get rid of my records but found something else linked to my file,” Xanthic said with a shrug. She took Glade’s offer and walked into the kitchen. The sound of a coffee machine followed. “Apparently we’re going to be a huntress team.” Of course! Ironwood was saying something about Glade and the Vytal Festival. “I’d like to meet everyone on my terms before becoming Ironwood’s puppet.”

Penny tried not to flinch under those words, but it spat out like hot wires against her processors. At first she thought no one notice but Glade’s eyes lingered a little too long. They both looked at Ciel when she scoffed.

"I’m not interested in behind dragged into whatever you anarchist have planned. If the General of our Kingdom," Penny noted how Glade and Xanthic rolled their eyes, “Has a directive for us we’d best follow it,” Ciel said. “I have an exam tomorrow, so if you’d excuse me-” She was not excused. Glade stepped in front of her.

“I’ll help you study,” Glade offered, “I helped my friends all the time while they were in combat school.”

Ciel looked up with a stare that had no emotion. A blank stare? Penny believed it was called. “We aren’t friends.”

“But we will be teammates.” Glade said with a grin. She leaned forward until she was eye level with the officer-in-training and held up one finger, “And it’s called being polite.” A second finger went up, “A new perspective will help.” Three used her thumb instead of her ring finger, “And this way you won’t be wasting time going back home and cooking your own dinner.” Then Glade straighten out to nearly half a head taller than Ciel and held out her hand. “Good?”

“Those are… acceptable terms,” Ciel relented with a sigh. She shook her hand and finally stepped into the apartment. “Rumor has it you’re a good cook.”

“Rumor has it you humans have a taste buds like cardboards.” Glade said with a small laugh. She looked at Penny and crossed her arms. “What? I need to talk you into staying too?”

Penny was still by the door, hands clasped together. She bounced a little, still unsure if she should stay or go… Her father trusted Glade. General Ironwood didn’t trust either of them. But if the hacker and mechanic wanted to harm her they would have done it already. And if not, P.E.N.N.Y could handle two civilians.

“Hm. No, I think I’ll stay for the moment, Ms. Glade.”

“Ugh, Glade is too formal. My friends call me Aro.”

Friends call me… Penny gasped bouncing a little more. Her power core leaking her Aura into too many components, “We’re friends?!” Someone wanted to be friends with her?

“Only if you like how Aro sounds- Hey!” Glade yelped, tackled a few steps backwards. The gravity Dust in her legs tethered her to the ground. Ciel and Xanthic frowned glancing at each other. Ciel gestured to the babbling ginger and the laughing goat but Xanthic choose to look around for cream and sugar.

Day 239 since creation. Three days since last artificial skin tear. Four trials cleared.

Day One of Team APCX.

#penny polendina #pietro polendina #fic #cutting strings #apcx #qued

16 notes · View notes