#gun: nearly threw hands with a customer today | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

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arrière-pensée

— When you start a new job, you never thought you would come face with Most Wanted Ground Zero who decides that you’re going to help him make a point.

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pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, robbery kink, consented noncon, public sex, exhibitionism, degradation, spanking, slight gunplay, sadist bakugou, machoist reader, blow job, character death, murder, blood, gun violence, knife violence

word count: 8,550

a/n: literally fuck me. I super fucking liked this prompt had clearly had too much fun because this was not supposed to be a long fic. anyways, I hope you like the idea of big bad evil bakugou fucking you to make a point. also, just trust me on the details on y/n I make, please. make sure to comment on all fics you enjoy, all authors love them! carefully read the warnings!!!!

kinktober day 4 main kink: robbery kink

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“As for our latest news, the city of Chiba has decided to close the current twelve-month reigning search for the missing victim of the Chiba Bank robberies. However, known criminal known only by his alias Ground Zero who has been on our countries most wanted list on account of robberies, murder, and rape is still on the ru—”

Click.

You frowned as you threw the TV remote onto the bed, unease sitting on your stomach.

Pre-work jitters were a normal thing, right?

You looked at the full-length mirror in front of you, your finger pressed against a black pencil skirt, trailing up to brush against the white silk shirt you wore. Today is a special day, you reminded yourself as you lined closer to the mirror. Your hand grabbing the dark red lipstick you owned and as smoothly as you could, smoothed the cream over your lips.

The first day working at the esteemed Yaoyorozu Banking Inc., the world's most influential and wealthiest bank. Getting an interview at the prestigious bank had been a once in a lifetime opportunity, your incredible resume and references without a doubt getting your foot in the door to simply be a bank teller.

Yes, to simply be a bank teller, you had to know at least three languages (you knew English, Japanese, Mandarin, and Spanish), had to know someone with affiliations to either the Yaoyorozu family or the hiring team (your number one reference was none other than the CEO and Founders daughter), and have a certain intellect (there was an admittance test to even qualify to fill out a job application). It had been a rather challenging admittance for you, especially as they had only been one job opening. Frankly, you think your only reason for winning the spot was due to Yaoyorozu Momo’s hand.

Still, it mattered not in the end because you had the job—no use of trying to figure out just what made you stand out so much.

Pushing away from the mirror, you studied yourself over one last time.

Your outfit was exactly as they required it to be, your pink hair styled appropriately out of your face, and the slight gleam of your pantyhose made you heave a heavy sigh.

You were as ready as you could ever be.

With one final look into the mirror, you tilted your head at the gold-colored contacts you wore, a symbol of the job you held at Yaoyorozu Bankings and thought it made you look like a whole other person. No time to dwell on that, you decided, slipping on your watch and red-bottomed high heels and left your apartment.

It was time to work.

The commute to work was dull if you ignored the way your stomach twisted and turned in the thought of arriving at work. What would the security be like, at the bank, you couldn’t help but wonder? Would there be bulletproof glass? Ten security guards?

All the banks you’ve ever had the pleasure of entering had always been handled with a small waiting room for clients and a five-inch thick bulletproof glass wall. But that had been at smaller, local banks, not anything like where you were about to begin working. Yaoyorozu Banking had several different buildings designated for the different types of jobs located within their name. You did, however, know that the smallest only two-story building was for their in-person bank tellings. That is where you would be working. Two floors for an essential part of their business, and you had no idea what it looked like as you had no account with them, and your interview had taken place at their headquarters.

By the time the bus had pulled up to the stop, you would need to get off of, you could feel the nerves of the upcoming day begin to sit heavily on your bladder. You could feel the eyes of everyone else on the bus staring at you as you exited the vehicle. Everyone knew what this stop was for and had undoubtedly seen the gold contacts when you passed by them.

Each step of your heel against the sidewalk's paved concrete seemed to echo distinctly in your ear. It was rather odd, you noted as you walked toward the bank's building, that despite a large number of employees and patron’s the bank had, it seemed almost deserted. Looking down at the watch on your wrist, you knew immediately that you weren’t running late. As a matter of fact, you would be running precisely on time, showing up to your on-call site fifteen minutes before you were due.

Regardless, you took each stride in your step as powerfully and as in control as you could. Your gaze narrowed, focused, intense as you stared at the revolving crystal clean glass doors. With one last supporting thought about how you were absolutely going to make sure that you would end this day in success, you pushed through.

White marble floors, glossy white walls with black and gold accents met your gaze immediately. Despite the apparent shock of seeing the indoors of this lavish, distinctly rich bank, you continued moving as if unaffected. The clicking of your heels against the floor was the only thing letting you know that you were, in fact, moving.

Twelve men lined the lobby hallway, each tall, bulky with sunglasses and earpieces on. Although you couldn’t see their eyes, you had without a doubt that they were looking at you as you passed them to a set of large oak and gold accented doors.

There, a smiling woman greeted you. Her smile is warm and gentle as her own silver-colored eyes welcome you, and your spine stiffens at the appearance of information that passes through your vision.

Name: Fuwa Mawata Position: Greeter & Inspector.

“Ah, welcome Uzume-chan!” she cheered in greeting, her mascara painted eyes closing in greetings. You said your hello’s, your voice breathy with the shock of this bank's high technological advantages. “I see that this is your first day here, and luckily for you, no one is around, so I may quickly inform you of entrance clearance!”

“T-That sounds perfect!” you admit, your smile feeling just the littlest bit too tight, but your hands held your bag tighter in your grip.

“Wonderful! Well, here at Yaoyorozu’s Banking Inc., we have a strict business protocol for both our clients and our employees! First, as you may or may not know, all of the building's operations take place on the floor above, and due to the clients we have, it's a bit… unorthodox in our approach. We are the only bank with no bulletproof glass between you, the bank tellers, and our customers!”

What now?

“Our clients are so finicky about being treated with such distrust that they’d rather have this approach!” Fuwa laughed as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with such statements. “So, to approach the bank, you must pass by me! But do not worry! We have never, ever within our nearly century-long reign, have ever been robbed or seized before. Our twelve men out there are true experts, and I have the only button to inform the police right here! Everyone, so both clients and employees, must leave their personal belongings here, and I will search you for any potential weapons!”

“I’m not allowed my phone up?” you asked, a bit confused by this rather outlandish set of rules.

“I’m afraid not! You’ll be so busy working the entire time you won’t be needing it. You are allowed to come and retrieve while on lunch since the break room and lunchrooms are down here on the first floor!” Fuwa confirmed, her head nodding in confirmation. “I understand that it can be a bit different, I myself am not yet used to it, but these rules are in place so that every one of our clients and employees can remain safe!”

You fight off the frown that dangerously tries to grow on your face by nodding, handing over your purse to Fuwa, “That makes sense.”

“Glad to know that it isn’t an issue for you, Uzume-chan! Now, if you’ll step past me, I’ll be checking for any concealed weapons, and you will be met with your supervisor as soon as you enter the second floor!”

It takes exactly two seconds for Fuwa to complete her scan of your body. She explained with a wink that her contacts allowed her to find any potentially dangerous weapon on a person's body. “No matter where it might be,” she added with a tilting head and a bright grin. “By the way, I love the watch! It’s so beautiful, it must’ve been expensive!”

“Oh,” you feel your face warm as you gently touch the watch, your finger tapping the watch’s face twelve times while your smile is unparalleled as you think of the man who had gifted you the object. “Thank you, it was a gift.”

With that, you climbed up the stairs as sophisticatedly, brushing a few strands of curly pink hair out of your face as you enter the main floor, and you realize immediately that the quiet of the first floor and outdoors does not reach this floor.

The second floor is loud.

People with their names and occupations flashing within your view walking from table to table, stacks of paper in their arms, arguing, or talking with those around them. It was a sight to behold, indeed. But a voice interrupted your thoughts, and before you could honestly assess the situation at hand, you were whisked away, a detailed explanation of your job and expectations were.

Unexpectedly, Fuwa had been right.

This job had no downtime.

You sat on a leather seat at a desk to handle the clients. Much like old banks out west, your desks were much higher than those you were servicing; most often, you had to look down at them like a mother to a child as you worked.

Your supervisor, who went by the name Togeike Chikuchi, was over your shoulder for about an hour, detailing and correcting your every action until you cleared ten clients entirely on your own. At this moment, she sat at the desk to your left, chatting with her client with a bright sunny smile that you had thought for a moment she was incapable of.

It was 14:23 when you were with a client who was currently wondering if sending her ‘poor niece who lived with her amazing female roommate’ ¥500,000 was enough for a week worth of groceries. Of course, it took everything in you to bite your tongue and ask her if she had ever bought her own groceries before.

“Well, if you’re asking me, I think that’s a perfect amount!” you smile pleasantly, watching as who you’re pretty sure to be a CEO of a rice tycoon company. “If anything, you can always question her if that was enough the next time you speak. Everyone is always so different when it comes to groceries.”

“Ah, I suppose so!” she laughs good naturally, her arms rising to press a slip of paper with her account information on it on your desk. “I always spend almost—”

She cut off, and for the first time, you didn’t have to wonder why.

There was an echoing, distant sound of four straight bangs.

It seemed to have been heard collectively by the entire second floor because, for a moment, there was a silence that wrapped the whole floor.

Mumbles and murmurs soon flooded the floor, and a frown pressed against your lips as you stared at the staircase. What happened?

“Oh, I bet you that dumb janitor downstairs dropped his vacuum again!” your client huffed, her eyes rolling while you transferred the amount she requested from her account over into her nieces. “He did that the last time I was here too! Except it only caused two loud bangs like that! How immaturely irresponsible of him! Unable to do his job correctly and as a janitor at that? How much lower could he possibly get?”

You, once again, bite your tongue, choosing instead to laugh in faux humor over her rant. The agreeing lie on your tongue moments from being let out when a new sort of movement at the corner of your eye stopped you.

Climbing up from the staircase was a man who took heavy, powerful steps. You were getting used to the way these clients carried themselves. They all tended to stride authoritatively, commandeering all attention to them. Despite their dominative pace, they were almost light on their feet, their steps relatively silent as they walked from corner to corner. But this man who made his way up the stairs was heavy, barbaric, and fierce with every echoing footstep he took.

It was as if the world slowed down as the entire room went to stare at him, and an ice-cold shiver crept down your spine as you took him in.

Ash blond, spiky unruly hair. Splattered red blood covering his exposed arms and neck. A black get-up looked akin to a secret black op team with the black army vest, black tank underneath, black army pants, black combat boots, and strap around his right thigh that seemed to carry two guns and knives. As a matter of fact, his vest also showcased the copious amount of ammunition he had.

It was Ground Zero.

Fear plunged through you as he rose a single hand to the ceiling, a sickening smirk spreading on his face as the world seemed to slow down. Many clients chose to turn to look the second his finger pulled on the trigger.

BANG.

Shrieks erupted through the floor, and you watched as everyone, including yourself, hit the deck. Your body trembled with nervous fear as the gun firing stopped.

“Everybody get the fuck up.”

It was a low voice, gravely, and course with evident past strain. You looked across the way to Togeike, who looked just about as fearful and terrified as you felt.

You didn’t dare to move, and by the looks of it, none of your coworkers did either. There was no panic button on this floor, and the only way to the switch was at Fuwa’s desk. A desk that couldn’t be reached unless passing by the man with black paint smeared across most of his face in a strategic way that rendered him anonymous by all photographic and video evidence.

“I don’t think I fucking stuttered,” Ground Zero sneered, a light, fickle chuckle erupting low and deep in his chest as the sound of scared whimpers and silent sobbing began to pick up around the room. You didn’t need to know who was making those noises; after all, you knew what everyone was already thinking: will I be killed next? There was a loud bang a bit too near to your body, and you couldn’t help but scream in tandem with everyone else on the floor and the distinctive, irreplicable sound of someone choking on their blood. “I said, everyone, get the fuck up.”

Flight or fight were always two instincts you were taught about in school. Two altering, opposite reactions to being placed in stressful situations, but right now, you were in that third, lesser-known option: freezing.

“It’s like you elite bastards are begging to fucking die!” he laughed joyously, and you felt tears push to your eyes as another resounding bang shake through your body, your ears ringing with the noise. The now becoming familiar sound of a body hitting the floor dead and bleeding sending a sickening bubble through your throat.

But you pulled yourself up, your body trembling like a leaf as you stared at the infamous criminal who was merely smirking at the two dead bodies of clients who continued to bleed out on the floor as those around them cried.

“So, even with all the money in the goddamn world, you damn elitist are still damn fucking cry babies!” he cried with unrestrained, unleveled glee and anger. “Oh, this was the perfect place to choose as my final exit from the world.”

Your breath stops when he turns on you, his blood-red eyes locking on yours, and you can feel the hairs on your arm rising in unsettling knowing.

“Aren’t you a pretty looking whore,” he smirked, his hands putting his gun back into its holster, his heavy feet booming as loud as his gunshots as he makes his way towards you. The rest of the clients, especially the one located by your desk, shriek, cowering as he moves. “Tell me, whore, who does a guy gotta fucking talk to to get the money into my account?”

Your throat seamlessly tightened up in your deep fear as he directly addressed you, and you made a choking noise in your horror.

But, it seemed that Ground Zero was not in the mood for your timidness. Because you could see the vein in his temple throb, the sound of him sucking in his teeth, and the cold, humorous chuckle that rumbled in his chest as he grabbed his gun back out of its holster and pressed it centimeters away from between your eyes.

Typically, the clients couldn’t reach you from where they stood, but it was clearly apparent as he neared you that Ground Zero was not typical. He was big, huge, tall, and he quickly reached you.

The heat of the previously fired bullets from the muzzle of the gun radiating off it clearly, licking the skin on your forehead as finally, words tumbled out.

“I just started today, Togeike-san is my supervisor!”

Ground Zero lazily smirked as he followed your thrust out finger at your coworker and supervisor.

A loud choking sound spluttered from Togeike as Ground Zero turned his attention onto her and stalked over in three steps easily. His eyes were sharp, deadly, and cold as he stared at your supervisor, and he reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a black USB.

“Put all the bank's assets onto the account on this drive.”

“W-What if I don’t?” Togeike stammered, her body quivering just the same as yours. But the false sense of confidence only resulted in the gun being placed back between her eyes, only this time, he pressed the hot muzzle against her skin, and she shrieked at her burning skin.

“Try that again, you fucking extra,” Ground Zero hissed, and Togeike sobbed, grabbing the USB with a nod.

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!”

The sound of Togeike sobbing is almost as bad as the intruding smells of iron rusting blood from the dead bodies and the sick smell of the burning flesh on her forehead.

It seems to take forever, you standing there silently, perfectly still as Togeike hooks the hard drive to her computer. You can see that she begins the monetary transfer from the bank's large accounts and reserves onto the account enabled on the hard drive, and you feel numb. Should you be relieved that he would most likely take this once it was done and leave? Scared that he was here on your first day at that? What shit luck…

You concentrated on your hands as time seemed to drag by slowly, your knees still feeling weak, your breathing shallow as the crude smell of drying blood makes your head spin.

But unlike you, you hadn’t raised a single gaze in Ground Zero’s way, a rising sound of voices began to resonate from the floor and opposite side of the room. You blinked rapidly as you looked up.

Four men stood up, their brows furrowed, suits abandoned, and expressions steady and fierce.

“The fuck you think you’re doing standing up, fucking wimps?” Ground Zero gruffed, his body language telling a whole other story from his voice. He was relaxed, unaffected by their challenging forms and fierce glares. “What? Don’t tell me? You think you four in front of me can take me? Don’t fucking flatter yourself. Even with the three behind me who’s easily apart of your fucking idiotic plan, I’ll kill ya all before you can pray to not to be sent to hell!”

“Flatter ourselves?” a man scoffed after getting over the initial shock of their once thought to be secretive plan being exposed without so much as a spec of interest from Ground Zero. “Don’t you get so fucking cocky! We’ll beat your ass and hand you over to the fucking police, you damn bastard!”

Screams erupt throughout the entire room as the seven in cahoots men lunge forward at the dangerous criminal who has set himself back center stage of the second floor.

It’s over before you can blink.

You scream with the masses as five excruciatingly loud bangs go off, and you can barely return your gaze on the fighting men to see the outcome you already know.

There are six bodies on the floor, bleeding out fleetingly as Ground Zero holds the seventh by the neck. Your jaw drops as more blood splatters against Ground Zero’s chest, and you’re none the wiser of the knife buried deep within his throat until the body is falling over, dead, lifeless.

“All the fucking money in the world and none of you were taught fucking manners of a properly functioning brain, hah?” he roared, his lips pulled into a threatening, angry snarl as sobs erupt through the crowds again, and a rolling tingle shoots through your body. “I guess killing everyone just isn’t fucking enough for you all, is it?”

You were unsure of how to even answer that. Your eyes falling over onto Togeike, who was silently crying, her eyes screwed tightly as the meter on the money transfer hits 47%.

“Let me set an example for anyone else who wants to try more bullshit in front of me,” Ground Zero snaps, and you shriek when his bloodied hand tangles into your pink hair and yanks you over the desk.

Crashing onto the floor as ungracefully as one could, your eyes widen and jaw drop in an excruciating, soundless scream as pain shoots through your body. But, it’s not near over yet.

Your hands weakly grab Ground Zero’s wrist, trying to ease the pulsing pain in your body and scalp as he drags you front and center of the second floor. You can’t even understand yourself at this point, sniffling, pathetic pleas to let you go, tears streaming down your face as he throws you, your body hitting the marble floor as you sob for forgiveness.

“Now,” Ground Zero speaks from above you, and your arms have never felt weaker as you press up from the cold, ice floor. You freeze, your body feeling like a tundra as a now all too familiar click of a loaded gun resonates centimeters from your head. You silently sob when a warm muzzle pressed against the back of your head. “The next person to look away from what I’m about to do to my new cum whore, the next person who even fucking thinks of trying some really unfunny shit… her life is on your head.”

The sobs stop with that threat, or did they grow more at the easily implied actions of the corrupt man before you? You couldn’t really tell anymore. Yet slowly, the clients who are sitting in dead men’s blood shakily turn their gaze to you, and you can feel the weight of all their eyes on you. You feel weightless, almost empty.

“Pink hair is for whores, didn’t you know that? That’s why I picked you.” Ground Zero informs you from behind you. The barrel of the gun digs harder, pushing roughly against your head. “Whores are meant to be fucked by fat fucking cocks, so turn around, whore, and suck me off.”

Your breathing returns in spastic, shallow breathes, and you suppress the rising sob in your throat as you turn around on your hands and knees.

Ground Zero stares down at you with expectant eyes, cruel and dark with their crooked want and lust. Your breathing picks up when he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and underwear with only one hand, the other one with the gun never once leaving your head.

“Make sure you all watch her, I’ve never had to kill a bitch while sucking me off, and I wouldn’t want to make this the first time!” Ground Zero laughed, his crimson red eyes glaring at the shamefully gazed clients as he holds his growing cock in his hands. Despite all logic, you stare at his hardening cock with an ever-increasing lust, the tears in your eyes never stopping, but your cunt unwilling to ignore the fact that his cock would feel so good in anyone of your holes. You knew that, and it horrified you. “The fuck you waiting for?” Ground Zero growled, shifting the barrel of the gun to your temple, his eyebrow raised in a taunt. “Suck my fucking cock.”

And despite the growing hiccuping cries in your chest, you can’t stop the way your mouth waters as you shamefully grab onto his cock and press your mouth down on him.

His cock was large, undoubtedly longer than your face, and thicker than what your hand could encompass. Messy dark blond pubes sat motions away from your nose, and veins that ran all over his length rubbed against your tongue. The taste of his slightly sweaty cock made you gag, but the fear of what he would do caused you to snuff it out.

Tears poured limitlessly down your face, your throat and jaw stretching as far as it could as you took him in further and further.

Even with the tears on your cheeks, you did your best to appease him, horrified by the outcome should you not. Your tongue swirled against his girth, trailing the plenty of veins that you could get to. His cock pressed further into your mouth, shoving until it hit the back of your throat, continuing to dive in deeper until the ends of his pubes tickled your nose, and you could feel the head of his cock stretching out your throat. And horrifically, even with the strangled, choked sobs that still continued to pour from your mouth, you were enjoying the way he was fucking your mouth.

You enjoyed the way the cooling barrel on your temple made you quiver with dreadful apprehension. You enjoyed the way his hips rocked into your mouth, most often hitting your gaping jaw. You enjoyed the way the noises of your unwilling audience made you feel dirty, whorish, and shameful. But as his fingers managed to slip into your hollowing cheeks, drool and saliva dripping down your chin in your slobbering heat and shame, you could feel your essence slicking onto your panties.

“Look at how shameless you are!” Ground Zero laughed, his hand that once guided his cock into your mouth, gripping onto your hair and fisting into it. You yelped at the pain, your teeth painfully close to biting his cock. “All these people around watching you suck off the big, bad Ground Zero’s cock, and you aren’t even embarrassed!?”

You made a disagreeing noise, your brows furrowing, your gaze doing everything in its power to avoid your clients and coworkers gaze as Ground Zero began to rock his hips even more powerfully into your mouth. He chuckled, clearly pleased with what was occurring, and he threw the gun back into its holster. With the free hand, he placed it around your throat, squeezing your airway as you choked pathetically against his length and girth.

“I bet you came into work wanting to be fucked today. Wanting to get pressed to the floor and let everyone see your slutty fucking cunt and throat be used.” Ground Zero growled his grip on your throat, tightening even more. “Is that why you came here to work? Hoped I’d show up one day and fuck you to submission in front of everyone?!”

You gagged, the pounding of his cock further and further down your choked throat overwhelming you as the tears of shame quickly became those of fear as the lack of oxygen burned your throat and nose. You tried to breathe, but Ground Zero knew what he was doing and how he was doing it, not allowing you to breathe despite the way your fingers created crescent scars on the back of his thighs.

Too much, too much, too much!

His balls slapped under your chin, and the musk of his skin tainted your tongue, but Ground Zero was only getting started, it seemed. With his hands now grabbing the sides of your head, he began to fuck your throat savagely.

The wet sloppy noises of his driving cock into your throat seemed to echo off the shiny walls and marble floors. Your saliva and drool ruining your silk top and mixing with the blood on the floor.

Your eyes were crossing with the extreme force, your body feeling weightless with your inability to breathe, yet despite all logic, you finally let out a sweet, grateful moan as your nose pressed to his hips.

But that was enough for Ground Zero.

It was a noise that would finish the last nail in your coffin as he held you there to his hips, his cock entire within your throat that tightened and fluttered against his length as you struggled to pull away.

“No use in fighting it now, you fucking whore,” Ground Zero grinned, the expression on his face akin to that of a predator stalking his prey. His voice, ever so naturally loud, filled the room, letting everyone know just what was going on. “They all heard you moan like a slut while getting fucking raped by me. So do me a little favor and get on all fours, I need a place to dump my fucking cum.”

With that, Ground Zero shoved you off his cock and onto your back, and you began to cough and choke desperately. The sour, raunchy scent of the sweat, blood, and gunpowder burning your nostrils as you attempted to steady yourself. You began to cry again at the filthy thought of how you were enjoying the way his cock had been in you, and the way your body craved for more of it.

You didn’t want to admit that you wanted him to fuck you, especially in front of everyone.

But as you were consumed with your at war thoughts, Ground Zero was already impatient.

His feet trapped you between him, and he leaned down to grab your silk shirt.

“W-Wait—!” you shriek as he rips open the shirt, the sound of scattering buttons flying everywhere as your bra is revealed to everyone in the room who is watching.

Silent tears poured down your cheeks as with the destruction of the white silk shirt, a sheer and lacy red bra was exposed to the mass. Today had been a means of celebration, and you had intended on fucking your boyfriend the moment you got home… but that had been something you had kept a secret. Something to be held from the world until it was you and him in a bed. But it was now an object to be seen by everyone, and you bit onto your lower, trembling lip, eyes screwed shut as you tried to look away from the heated territorial look on Ground Zero’s face.

“Oh, look at what we have here?” Ground Zero almost whispered, but his voice still managed to reach every corner of the floor. “You are a little fucking whore, are you not? Came to work actually wearing lingerie! I thought I was just fucking teasing you before, but no! No! Not at all! You do want to be fucked in front of everyone!”

Your sniffling wouldn’t stop as his large, hot, bloodied dried hands grabbed at your bra-clad breasts. He was leaning down over you, you could feel the amused breathing flushing against your collarbone, and you mangled a choke when he kneeled down, trapping you.

“Such an ugly pair of tits,” Ground Zero mocked, his large hands pressing the sides of your breasts together, enhancing your cleavage and fullness of your breasts as you lay on the floor. “I’ll let you in on a secret… all those missing sluts I’ve fucked in previous jobs? Well, I can always tell how good a fuck they’d be just through this part.”

Hissing, you glared at Ground Zero as he slipped his fingers under the fabric, teasing and pulling at your pebbled nipples. His red glare meeting yours, mocking and somehow both hot and cold.

But a shameful, pitch moaned fell from you, your back against all logic arching up into Ground Zero. Soft whines, shaking arms, thrashing legs.

“Would you look at that,” Ground Zero’s sneering tone was back, and you found yourself opening your eyes (somehow missing when you closed them), to see Ground Zero glaring at someone in the crowd. “Looks like you could make a professional slut, whore! That man over there has a fucking boner over watching me rape you and your slutty mouth and feeling up your tits!”

“N-No I don’t!” the man exclaimed as you couldn’t help but meet the accused eyes that were filled with shame, a red blush tainting his cheeks. “Just thinking about when this’ll be fucking over!”

“Oh?”

Ground Zero’s grip grabbed you by the throat, and you panicked as he ripped you up onto your feet and began walking over to where the man was. You stumbled to keep up, unable to find your balance the entire time you walked with him, in awe that this unlawful man could walk determinedly when his pants around his thighs, hard, leaking cock pressing to his vest-clad stomach. But before you could find your balance, Ground Zero threw you back onto the floor, landing centimeters from the client's feet, and you began to cry as your exposed stomach touched the floor.

Ground Zero wasted no time on your noises, straddling your ass, scooping his hands beneath your breasts, and pulling you up.

The client's face went beet red, his bulge in his pants evident as you could only keep your gaze there, unable to raise or turn your head as Ground Zero squeezed your breasts in his hands.

You moaned at the sensation, your mind giving in to the feelings to not cry anymore.

“Tell the whore how much you like her tits,” Ground Zero commanded, his hands kneading and pulling at your mounds of flesh. “Tell her your little microcock wants to fuck her.”

The client had the decency to look offended as he spluttered, “I’M NOT GOING TO TELL HER THAT!”

With his words, silence took over the room, and you trembled in your fear.

“Damn extra?” Ground Zero shouts to Togeike.

“Y-Yes?”

“How much fucking longer?”

“I-It’s at 63%!”

“Wonderful.”

One of Ground Zero’s hands abandoned his manipulation of your breasts, but he still managed to keep you in place with only one hand. He pulled a breast out of the bra, and you whimpered as the client gwuaffed at the sight of your breast, but immediately cut himself off when a cold, heavy metal barrel pressed against your temple.

“Let’s try again,” Ground Zero said with faux cheer. “Tell the whore how much you like her tits, and how your microcock wants to fuck her, or else I’ll kill her right in front of you.” There’s a heavily, curling silence that overwhelms the room before he decides to add one last thing for good measure. “I’ve never fucked a dead body before, and I wouldn’t want to start that now.”

“I-I like her tits,” the man stammered.

“How much?”

“T-They’re… they’re so hot,” the man begins to cry, his body shaking in front of you. “I wish I could b-be fucking her instead!”

“Too bad for that microcock you have, huh?” Ground Zero taunted, pulling the gun from your temple and pointing it straight at the man's crotch. “Show her.”

“W-What?!”

“Show her your cock.”

It seemed to happen so slowly. The man unbuckling his belt with shaky hands, clumsily undoing his pants, and shifting it down his legs, white boxer briefs stained slightly with pre-cum. You looked away when he revealed a cock that looked pathetic to the one you had just sucked, so small, so thin, so discolored.

“You got one fucking ugly ass cock,” Ground Zero laughed.

Then the world picked back up.

The first thing you heard and felt was the tearing of your skirt, and you panicked as Ground Zero dropped your chest onto the cold floor. You whipped your head around to see your work skirt split all the way down the middle, only held together by a few remaining strands by the waistline. And the sheer pantyhose you wore, twisted between his fingers, and completely ripped as his gaze met yours.

“Cute fucking thong.”

You choked at the feeling of cold, soured air hitting your inner thighs that were still wet with your slick, and instinctively, you tried to scramble onto your knees. But it seemed that this was what Ground Zero wanted from you, for the moment you were on your knees, he pressed his hand to the curve of your back and kept you there.

Ass up, back curved, chest down.

“Until the transfer is at 100%, your wet little cunt is mine!” Ground Zero reveled in the information as he couldn’t even bother to pull down your panties before plunging his fingers into your sopping heat.

The shameful pleasure of feeling his fingers deep within your cunt sent you screaming, your back arching even further as his fingers continued to thrust in you. They curled and spread, sending your mind into a spiraling lust as he managed to find all of your sweet spots without so much as breaking a sweat.

“You’re so easy,” Ground Zero groaned, his cock rutting between the curves of your ass as he continued to finger fuck you. “So fucking wet too. I just knew a fucking whore like you couldn’t be getting fucked right at home, that’s why you hoped you’d get fucked by me today!”

Your teeth bit into your forearm, the overwhelming pleasure of his fingers stroking your inner walls, tweaking and moving against your clit, making your thighs tremble with the already forming pressure in your womb.

“Don’t be embarrassed, you little whore,” Ground Zero whispered into your ear, laughing when you shuddered at the feeling of his tongue licking the shell of your ear. “Everyone wants to hear you moan, scream, and cry for the big bad Ground Zero’s cock. Don’t mute yourself, let them hear just how well I’ll fuck you into a puddle of tears and cum.”

You didn’t want them to hear you begging for more. You didn’t want the entire room to know that your cunt was spasming and clenching around his fingers because you liked this. You didn’t want them to know.

“I bet fuckface in front of you really wants to hear it!” Ground Zero laughed, his finger doing light, quick circles against your clit as his other hand brought your attention to the man before you. Sure enough, his cock was throbbing, precum leaking down his length as he shamefully looked at you. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind you fucking yourself as I fuck this stupid cunt.”

But with the building pressure in your stomach. Your toes curling as the soft thumps of his fingers dive in and out of your sopping wet cunt, your body begins to tense up.

“Already ready to cum,” Ground Zero smirked, and you felt your body go rigid when his fingers left your cunt, and was immediately replaced with his large, thick cock.

Having not expected such action, your arms shot out, eyes rolling back as a guilty, wanton scream tore through your throat. He was so big, so thick, so full, stretching you out completely, sending your tight walls into a frenzy as they stretched and tightened around his cock.

Fuck, fuck, “fuck!”

“Oh, she speaks!” Ground Zero laughs, almost a bit deranged as he grabs onto your waist and begins to plow into you. “I wonder to what lengths I can get you to speak! I want to hear you screaming for me, whore.”

It was then that he slammed his hand against your ass cheek, causing you to shriek while your skin throbbed in his wake. It was heavy-handed, the power he held in his hand while never doubted, didn’t make you think it was ever this much. The pleasure curled pain made your knees buckle, a hot pressure bursting in your core, and another loud slap repeated on the same throbbing cheek.

Fisting in your hair, you keened loudly when Ground Zero yanked your head back. The arch in your back was dramatized by this action; your back ached as another heavy slap echoed against your swelling skin. His dense, almost wild breathing hits the shell of your ear, and chills shoot down your spine when he snarls.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight, is whoever this getup for fuck you shitty too? Don’t tell me this fucking extra is the man you fuck in your bed?” he laughs, his foot stamping to the outside of your leg. The new position increases the range and the power of his thrusts, sending your body forward with every squelch bringing thrust. “I bet you’d like it if your stupid cock piece was here to watch how a real fucking man fucks, huh? You fucking would—” his hand comes down to wrap around your waist, pinching and tugging at your clit that’s thrumming with impending orgasm. Ignoring your growing pleads for more— “You like being an example to everyone in this fucking shit room of how to be fucked correctly! I bet you’re actually liking the way they’re judging you and your tight, wet cunt.”

The next powerful thrust that has his balls smacking your skin nearly sends you tumbling over at the strength and power behind it. Your arms buckle under you, the weight and struggle to keep yourself upright was a challenge as Ground Zero abused your clit and cunt.

“Answer me, fucking whore.”

There was no stopping Ground Zero’s heavy hand against your pert ass, and you could not think of anything but how your cunt throbbed for the man behind you. Your sobs of pain had long ago become those of pleasure, and you could feel the raised prints of his hands on your sore cheeks. It was true; it delighted you.

“Y-Yes, I like being fucked by you!” you finally break crying, your body trembling in your excitement and need for more. “I like them watching as you fuck me! You fuck me so good!”

“Glad you could finally admit it because your cunt is so fucking wet right now I’m sure everyone else already knew,” he sneers while he rubs circles against your heated skin. “You’re trembling with excitement as you try telling me you don’t want me to fuck you. I can see you choking back your cries of pleasure, the fuck you take me for? Do you want me to leave you without an orgasm?”

“N-No!” you sob pathetically, arms pathetically stretching behind you to keep him thrusting faster into you. “D-Don’t leave me until I-I cum!”

Your words were loud, letting everyone know just how much you wanted this, just enough for the man before you to groan as he came, and you thanked Ground Zero as you trembled like a leaf before him. His upper lip pulled back into a smirk as he let go of your hair, letting your head drop back onto the floor, and his fingers go and pinch your nether lips, and you cried loudly.

“I know you can fucking scream louder than that. I want the entire fucking world to know who’s fucking you right now.”

The words were honey to your ear, and you shifted in an attempt to ease the growing lust between your legs.

Slap.

“Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Please, Ground Zero, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you babble, your tongue falling from your mouths as you pant like a bitch in heat, your body convulsing and shaking with need and heightening lust.

Your mind reeled as Ground Zero continued his conquest against your cunt. You could barely count the number of times he drilled his cock straight into your heat, the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix over and over. The added sensation of his fingers manipulating your clit, and shoving into your mouth to tug on your tongue as you began to grow too loud made you dizzy. Your ass and thighs were undoubtedly bright red and in the air, back arched further than you had ever gone, and saliva and tears seeping onto the marble floor.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he cheers as he repositions the angle in which he’s driving into you, and your ragged moans fill the area at the need of more. He continued fucking you, and while feeling finally returned to your abused ass, your hips finally began to buck against his commanding hips, trying to get the echoing slaps to grew even louder. “Such a greedy little slut.”

Gritting your teeth, you continued pushing against him, craving more heat, power, and pain.

“Is this not good enough for you?” Ground Zero chuckles, but there’s no light humor to his laughter. “Good.”

At that phrase, Ground Zero slams into you with the power and force you had yet to experience. Causing you to howl in your throbbing lust, your mind more a second snapping back out of its haze as you feel his cock twitch within you. Your breathing is harsh as you try to look at Ground Zero, finally trying to take a glance at how he looked. You wondered if he was as unhinged as you felt, as savage as you imagined with his lustful red eyes.

“Where is it at?” Ground Zero barked over at Togeike.

“I-It’s at 97%!” she stammered, shame dripping from her voice, and you had half a mind to wonder if they were all turned on too.

Maybe they were jealous of the fat cock claiming you, and you mewl in the thought, your back bristling as you slammed back onto his drilling cock. You wanted more from him, craved more from him. The coil in your belly still yet to be undone, but you were not going to let it snap anytime soon.

“Gotta fucking make this little slut cum soon then, huh?” Ground Zero grinned, and you felt his teeth bare into the back of your neck in a flash of throbbing, burning pain.

You cried.

The angle and power behind these growing sloppy thrusts were different than what you were used to. It was deranged almost, your body shifting with each thrust, nearly toppling over as Ground Zero claimed you with his teeth and his cock. With each hypnotizing slam of his hips, ringing moans of pleasures ripped from your throat, and you brought your arms as best you could to his waist to keep him there.

Sweat dripped down Ground Zero’s neck, his hands gripping your bruised and battered ass like some type of life support, and the squelching noises of your slamming sex were making your body weak.

“Please — fuck — do that! Do that again, please!” you screamed when a vein in his cock dragged against your pulsating, puffy walls, at the same time he pushed against your cervix.

“Such—” thrust— “A—” thrust— “Fucking—” thrust— “Whore!” thrust! “Who do you fucking belong to?!”

“Y-You, Ground Zero!” you scream, your hips buck against his slamming hips. It was so raw, so rough, and you were enjoying every passing second. “I belong to you! I’m your fucking whore, please fill me with your cum! Cum in me, please cum in me!”

Ground Zero preens at your praise, all while he continues to fuck you roughly. He was in his zone, his concentration like steel as he pounded into you again and again. Your inner walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating cock, and the heated pressure now spilling over.

His cock twitched within you. It knocked the breath out of you; his fingers twisted into your hair.

“Fucking cum with me,” he demands, jerking your head back towards him again, and you sob as your legs tremble against his increasing power.

You feel your eyes cross, screaming out his name as your walls clamp down fiercely against his length, and you orgasm roughly, your body shaking and spasming uncontrollably as you scream his name. Ground Zero curses loudly, slamming into you one last time with the power and tenacity of an army as he lets out a string of curses, and you moan, knowing that he came in you.

“Such a good slut,” Ground Zero grins as you can feel your eyes fluttering shut, physical and mental exhaustion now catching up with you. “Sleep now, I’m not done with you.”

You couldn’t gather the energy to speak back, your world blacking out with the sounds of sobs, screams, and more gunshots.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You wake up in a car.

The warm, gentle wind caressing your face as the world is quiet. It's calm, pleasant, pleasing. Your pink wig is on your knees, slightly ruined with blood, sweat, tears, and drool.

You sigh, your body throbbing with different pain as you look to your right at who’s driving.

It’s Ground Zero, or as you know him: Bakugou Katsuki.

His arms are covered now, the old black op outfit changed for a pair of black slacks and a red button-down shirt. You would have no idea he was the man who stormed into Yaoyorozu Bankings earlier that day.

“Good morning,” you sigh, reaching against the seat to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Bakugou looks at you with a smirk, reaching towards you for a real kiss as he continues to drive. You can tell you’re in comfortable clothes, ointment on any potentially worrisome wounds he had inflicted on you while wrapped up in your twisted fantasy of yours.

“Nice to see you up,” he gruffs, his voice rough from his overuse in the bank.

“Did we get it?” you ask, head pressing to his shoulder, and with a chuckle, he raised the black USB.

“Damn fucking right we did, y/n.”

“Perfect.”

It goes without saying that despite the sheer brilliance of Bakugou’s work as Ground Zero, he would have never pulled off such crimes without you. His pretty, small girlfriend, who always played a victim of his lust at his operations just for good measure. It was a fun life both of you lived.

You looked at the expensive Cartier watch on your wrist, a beautiful gift he had gotten you after your first successive robbery. It had also been programmed for you to communicate with Bakugou on how many guards there were on the floor.

“I love you.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

arrière-pensée: a concealed thought or intention; an ulterior motive.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

tags in comments, theres too many of you.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #bbs kinktober 2020 #bakugou katsuki x reader

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keijislove · 4 years ago

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I’ll be there: Bucky Barnes X Reader

A/N: WARNING: Slight mention of PTSD, insecurity, basically Bucky not realising what a blessing to humanity he is.

Screams.

They erupted in an instant as the sound of glass shattering pierced the otherwise peaceful night. Screams were all he’d ever known. Screams sounded like music to his ears. It was just a small snippet of what people really deserved after they dared to show their faces in public, knowing the pain they had caused to this world.

Amidst the endless assassins, stood a certain soldier with eyes as dark as his name, hair long and unkempt about his face, and two arms – one regular, which clutched a gun that seemed to fire itself – and the other, made of vibranium, which was busy throttling a man.

The winter soldier.

That name commanded fear. Fear of being killed, knowing that the monster HYDRA had created didn’t have enough human in him to feel emotions like pity or regret.

Bloodlust.

That was all that James Buchanan Barnes had ever known.

“Please, please not my son!” a woman cried, watching tearfully as the winter soldier fought an urge to scoff.

Not caring in the least, he pointed the gun at a little boy of nearly seven years of age and smirked beneath his mask.

The trigger was pulled, deaf to the cries and bloodcurdling screams of the boy’s mother. A gunshot pierced through the hall filled with screams. A bullet shot towards the tiny, unsuspecting boy, reaching to hit him squarely in the head –

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Bucky screamed, sitting up straight.

He looked around. Nobody was there, he was alone. Like he’d always been.

Panting slightly, he looked around, fumbling for the water jug and he poured himself a glass before taking a sip – his hands shaking so badly that the quantity of spilt water was greater than that he drank.

“Just a nightmare,” he feverishly muttered to himself, “No – no big deal, nightmare.”

His lies sounded so untruthful, even Bucky had to scoff at himself.

Just a nightmare.

If he didn’t understand himself at times, who could?

It was almost foolish to admit it, but Bucky felt something he had no way to overcome. Lonely.

His ‘friends’ were leading important lives, either with family or training at the Avengers compound, wanting to make a difference. Yet, here he sat, feeling useless.

He wanted a purpose in life – a gaping hole in his chest nothing seemed to be able to fill. Apparently, the gods had heard his prayer, for that day was one he treasured most in all of his memories.

-----

“This is the last time I’m working the night shift!” you furiously exclaimed to Leah who just shrugged, saying, “It’s not me who decides the shifts.”

“Meh, well,” you admitted guiltily, “You have a point. But you’re the only I can rant to about this prison.”

“Well, job’s a job, isn’t it?” Leah murmured.

“I guess so.”

The door of the restaurant flew open as somebody walked inside. You didn’t bother to look up, you had way to much experience and hate for this job to care who wanted to eat what.

“Welcome, I am Y/N L/N, just name whatever you want, I’m sure we have it in here and if we don’t, I’m sorry but that’s not my fault and I have been working long hours since weeks and would appreciate a little customer cooperation to ensure the safety of my mental health, okay? What do you want?” you had never talked this way to a customer before – you were known to be a polite employee, but today, you just lost your temper with life.

Receiving silence from the figure that had stopped in front of you, you looked up questioningly and your mind went blank for a second. Standing there was literal eye candy material who looked confused and slightly alarmed. You flushed – great job scaring away a finally nice guy, Y/N.

“Sorry,” you sighed after a while of staring, “Not in the greatest mood these days.”

“I can see that,” the stranger chuckled despite himself, “Rough day?”

“Month,” you corrected moodily, “What can I get you?”

“Meh, the usual, some beer please,” he said.

“Right,” you nodded, turning around, pulling faces at yourself for being so embarrassing. You blindly groped for a bottle and thrust it his way, saying, “Glass?”

“No thanks,” he waved off, uncorking the bottle and downing it, “I’m Bucky, by the way. Bucky Barnes.”

“Hey, I’ve heard of you,” you frowned.

Bucky’s heart dropped into the floors below. Of course you had heard of him. Of the countless, ruthless murders he had performed.

“You’re – that guy, right? Steve Rogers’ best friend?” you asked, “My condolences,” you added quickly.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, “That’s me.”

“I can see you’ve been through a rough life,” you remarked causally.

“You have no idea.”

And so, Bucky began visiting your bar regularly – a feat that made your shifts more enjoyable and something to look forward to in your mundane life. Bucky understood what a stressful job could be – he felt that if he couldn’t help himself, he’d at least try to help you.

After around a month of knowing him, you decided to do something you had been gathering the balls for for weeks

As soon as you finished your night shift, you spoke, “Can I walk home with you? It’s late – and the night sort of scares me. My house a few blocks away from yours.”

You crossed your fingers and toes behind your back.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Bucky said, “I wouldn’t want you to walk alone anyway.”

Your heart rose – this was a good sign.

You grabbed your coat and threw it on, shivering slightly as both of you made your way out. You locked the door behind you and placed the keys in your pocket as you resumed walking.

“So,” you began, “How’s life going on for you?”

“Crappy, mostly,” Bucky shrugged, “I mean – there’s nothing to do. I just sit around all day, come to your bar, go home, and sit around again.”

“Sounds like a nice life,” you sighed, “I wish I had some peace. I’d trade with you any day.”

This declaration made him laugh.

Now or never, Y/N, you wimp! Do it! Ask him out!

“Hey, listen, Bucky, I was wondering,” you began as he hummed in response, “Uh... we’ve known each other for some time now... don’t take this the wrong way, but I... really, really like you.”

Bucky felt his heart drop again – this was exactly what he’d been afraid of.

“Y/N...” he began.

“It’s okay, you might not feel the same,” you hurriedly said, swallowing back a few overcoming tears.

“No, Y/N, it’s nothing like that,” Bucky assured you, “I really like you too – but are you sure you’ve thought this through?”

“Thought what – what are you talking about?” you asked, nonplussed.

“I’m just saying – think about it,” Bucky began, “You – you’d be throwing away your future – I don’t want to do that to you. You’re a smart, beautiful woman, and you honestly deserve so much better! I can’t make you happy – I can’t make myself happy, I don’t know anything about commitment. I can’t give you children or a family – and the people who know of my past – almost everyone – will look down on you, I don’t want you to have that burden. I’m – a monster, Y/N, you can’t –”

“Stop,” you whispered, shaking your head, “Stop doing this to yourself. Who on Earth – Bucky, you are not a monster. I would never think like that – and it’s okay if you can’t give me a family – all I want is you. Just you.”

“Yeah, but you’re forgetting the most important part,” Bucky whispered, “I’m dangerous. I can’t trust my own mind. Trigger words, remember? Even if I’m not a killer anymore, I’ve made a lot of enemies – I don’t want anyone to use you to get to me.”

“What if I don’t care?” you asked angrily, “Let them try. And your trigger words – nice try, Bucky, you wanna be more careful what you tell others about your past. I know that that problem was taken care of years ago. You’re jut scared to open up.”

“I get nightmares....” Bucky’s voice trailed off in a feeble attempt to coax you to change your mind.

“And now you’ll have someone to calm you down next to you,” you firmly stated.

Bucky sighed, “Coffee shop down the street, tomorrow, noon.”

“Don’t you dare be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

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mochiusagifanficchaos · 4 years ago

Text

Sherlock x Mute!Reader •Part 2•

It's been three months now since you first met Sherlock and Watson in person.

You still work in the cafe and things were going so well, everything, just everything seemed to work out perfectly.

Sherlock became a close friend of yours and you brought him tea nearly every day, mostly up to his flat, and when you didn't, Sherlock came down to look if everything was fine with you.

You smiled as you thought about this and poured the tea into one of the new tea glasses which you bought with your boss last week.

You hear the typical ringing of a bell when a customer enters the cafe and look up to greet them with a smile.

But your lips frowned midway.

In the door were standing two men, with clown masks on, terrific grinning and with a diamond-shaped colour around the left hole for the eyes.

One of them was holding a gun in his hand, directly pointed at you. Fear crawled under your skin and you dropped the tea glass.

This one second seemed so long to you.

The glass slipped your hand...

The man with the green diamond shape on his mask was deadly looking at you and the one behind him was about to lock up the door.

The glass fell...

The few customers in the cafe were motionless and everything was silent.

Then the glass hit the ground and crashed loudly.

Two women screamed in panic and the green masked man turned his look and his gun to the two ladies and shouted:

"Don't move! Don't scream! Don't speak! You all will be silent or you are dead!"

Everything was silent again.

But you could feel that it was a forced silent.

Everybody's muscles were tense, concentrating on not moving a single bit but also ready to defend themselves the next second.

The boss wasn't here today so nobody came out of the back door or was hiding there to contact the police.

It was at this moment when you realized that you were helpless.

But there was one thing you could do:

Hiding the key from the register.

The man who locked the door finally turned around and you could see another terrific clown mask, yet this one had a blue Diamond around the eye.

But his chubby face was oozing out of the mask and you could see his dark skin.

He started walking towards you and you felt your time running out.

You stumbled back against the wall and faked fainting.

Sliding down the wall and falling to the ground you hear the steps closing up faster.

Swiftly you get the key out of your apron pocket and let it slide into your sock.

Right in time.

The chubby man walked around the counter and grabbed the register, abrasive trying to open it.

"It won't open!", he yelled and punched the metallic box.

"Get the key, you idiot! ", the other one replied, still pointing the gun at the customers.

The chubby man looked around and smashed plates and glasses as he threw them from the counter.

You slowly eased your way back, but he already turned his face toward you.

You stopped in your motion and held your breath.

The man walked toward you, making quiet cracking sounds from the broken glass he was walking over until he stood right before you, grabbing you by your collar and pulling you back on your feet.

"Where is the key? "

With a shake of your head, you tried to make him understand that you didn't have it.

But of course, he didn't understand.

Angry he pushed you back to the ground and landed a kick in your stomach.

You couldn't breathe for a moment and the pain was overwhelming.

Tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Where is the key?!", he yelled at you but you couldn't move.

You couldn't see clearly through your tears and every breath was hurting.

Eagerly he knelt down in front of you and grabbed you by your ponytail.

His hands slipped into all your pockets in order to find the key, but it stayed gone.

"The. Key.", he said again, angrily and grabbed your tiny face rude with his gloved hand.

You whimpered and with shaking, hands tried to fish your notebook out of your apron.

He was about to beat it out of your hand but the one with the green mask, who was now standing behind you stopped him:" Let her write."

"The boss has it but he's not here right now", you wrote in shaky handwriting and immediately earned a punch in your face.

You fell back on the ground and cried noiselessly.

You were just about to give them the key as you hear a police siren in the distance.

The two-man looked at each other and the one with the gun rushed to the customers, making them go into the backroom.

"Everyone in the other room! Give me your mobiles and move!", he yelled and watched everyone laying their phones on the tables.

The costumers hurried to get in the backroom and you could see that one of the ladies was crying.

Your eyes met and you could see in her eyes that she could feel your pain.

The man with the gun locked the door behind them.

The sound of the sirens got louder and the men started to panic.

They cuffed you to the heater right under the window and shoved a towel in your mouth, nearly making you gag.

Hurriedly they grabbed the register and climbed out of the window above you.

The chubby one wasn't able to climb the window and used your shoulder as a stair to get out of the cafe.

You could hear it cracking as his full weight pushed down on your shoulder and the pain made you numb.

The sirens were so loud now as if they were right before the cafe.

But they died down a few seconds later.

The police car wasn't about to get to you. It just passed the cafe.

You couldn't remember the last time you had cried for so long.

Maybe when your little sister died?

Or when you got your throat cut and lost your voice?

Whenever the last time was, now you felt like you had the worst time of your life.

Your stomach and right side hurt, your shoulder seemed like it was dislocated, your eye hurt from the punch and your hands which were cuffed to the heater already had burned spots.

But you couldn't cry anymore.

You felt like but there were no tears left.

You chuckled.

I literally cried an ocean, huh.

You thought, remembering something your mother said when you were young and wouldn't stop crying.

Suddenly you heard a loud bang as somebody crashed against the door next to you.

Some customers tried to break the door open.

They throw themselves against the door again and you flinched.

Again.

And again and again.

The door swung open and crashed into the wall.

But not the back door, the front door.

The bell, which normally greeted the costumers fell to the ground and made a quiet sound comparing to the steps rushing over to you.

But every sound rang in your ears and your head felt like it was about to explode.

Then you saw Sherlock.

He rushed to you and knelt down in front of you, eyeing you worried.

Quickly he tugged the towel out of your mouth:" What happened? "

You just gave him a tired look, not able to make much movement.

But he understood.

Of course, he understood, he was the greatest detective of all time.

Watson came rushing in and froze in his action as he saw you:" Oh my god (y/n)!"

"They stole the register?", Sherlock asked you while Watson tried to break the handcuffs, but he didn't even wait for your nod and looked around the cafe to find some evidence.

Finally, Watson broke the handcuffs and your hand fell tired and numb to the ground.

"You didn't hand them the key did you?", Sherlock questioned you further and earned an angry scoff from Watson.

"She got beaten up Sherlock! Now is not the right time to ask her something heartless like this! She needs to get to the hospital! And why should she hide the key?!"

"Did you?", Sherlock just asked again, ignoring Watson and you pulled the key out of your sock with a triumphed grin.

Watson's face was priceless now:

His eyes nearly fell out of his head, his eyebrows narrowed in disbelief and his mouth was slightly standing open.

But you cared more about Sherlock's expression.

He had a small proud smile on his face and for whatever reason did this one proud smile meant the world to you now.

Why the key?

Well. Some weeks ago robberies on cafes by two men with clown masks started and the police were overwhelmed with it because it didn't make sense to them.

They called Sherlock for help and he installed some sort of protection in the register of your cafe, which gets activated when someone breaks it open with force.

The criminal would be splashed with some sort of color, that can't be washed away with regular soap.

And your only job was to hide the key.

Sherlock picked you up from the ground, carefully, to not make you feel even more pain than you already did and you let your head rest on his shoulder.

Before you even knew you drifted off as he carried you...

Part 3 will be up next weekend! Hope you liked this chapter ❤

My Wattpad: @/lilakudo

#fanfiction #sherlock x y/n #sherlock fandom #sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock #sherlock #sherlock x reader #x reader #reader insert

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randombtsprincessa · 4 years ago

Text

Backfire

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Park Jimin x Reader (2nd POV)

Words: 3.9k

Genre: Smut

Rating: Mature (18+)

Summary: There is a little misconception between you and Jimin. What do you do? You fuck your brother’s best friend in the bathroom.

Warning: Frenemy to Lovers, Jimin exists, teeny tiny jealousy on both ends, Yoongi makes an appearance, oral (female), mild dirty talk, protected sex, bathroom sex.

A/N: To my love, to my angel, to the darling serendipity, a happy birthday, Park Jimin.

The simmering, roiling heat of a flame lit deep underbelly, the constriction of your chest just because you set your eyes on something vile, the natural grimace that twisted your face and brought lines to your forehead…

All were reactions you were well familiar with; all pertaining to deep, genuine hate.

Which is ridiculous because you shouldn’t – can’t – hate something that has nothing whatsoever to do with you; or so you’d thought.

Well turns out, you can hate someone who has nothing to do with you in the simply case that it is Park Jimin. Park Jimin had nothing to do with you, absolutely nothing.

And yet his name brought fiery heat to the apples of your cheeks, flushed down to your chest.

All he was; was your dearest brother’s best friend. That’s all he was. He was just some guy your brother had known for ages, trusted explicitly, would always have his back and most likely throw a punch for. That’s it. Nothing very special for two bros, who would die for each other?

His involvement with you should end with that. You’d think so, right?

But Park Jimin was everywhere.

Park Jimin was the usual crème de la crème of the male species. He had fluffy raven hair that he had a habit of running his fingers through. Plump cheeks and lips gave his face a childish glow but his eyes…

His eyes would keep you up seven nights in a row and then some. They were a flecked deep mahogany; that radiated mischief and softened in giggles at the same time. All of that would still be okay to pass off – after all, hot men weren’t exactly a lacking commodity, it was the good hot ones that were rare – if not for the fact, that there was nothing usual about Park Jimin.

Your brother Dean, bless his heart, had never managed to grow up from the freshman boy phase that miraculously slipped past the years into graduation. You had followed suit at the same university, effectively moving in with him in his recently bought apartment as he started his interning in and out of the college odd jobs.

He also forgot to mention that aside from him and you, one other person was practically always there.

You had finished homework one day, venturing out to rummage through the kitchens for something to eat until your brother returned home with takeout for dinner when you had first seen him.

A simple black shirt and jeans and head faced you, a box of fruit loops upended over a wide open mouth. You had squeaked, ducking behind the sink. You were only wearing a pair of shorts and a huge shirt with nothing underneath and a stranger stood in your new home.

When he turned, mouth bulging from the amount of cereal in his mouth, his own eyes had widened and he’d choked, coughing out almost his entire mouthful.

“Fuck, I didn’t know there was a girl in here.” He’d spat out.

Of course, the first few moments where you’d taken the liberty to run straight to your room and get properly dressed, you’d made a few keen observations. Ok, it was only one.

The guy was smoking hot.

Dean had arrived when you came back out, painstakingly admitting to having completely forgotten about mentioning you to his friends and vice-versa. Jimin stood behind his shoulder, an easy smile on his face when you shook hands.

Now…you hadn’t been planning to have anything to do with him necessarily. He was still your brother’s friend and the small flicker of excitement you’d felt when Dean mentioned that Jimin was almost always there was mostly harmless.

So, when you heard your brother teasingly warn off Jimin from flirting with you and the retort was a short, ‘no thanks, I have enough girls lined up to keep my mind off your baby sister,’ your smile vanished, replaced by a disgusted grimace.

As lax as Dean was and as open about his relationships he was, you hadn’t thought that he’d be associating with a fuck boy.

You didn’t know when your initial disgust and disdain of Park Jimin turned into full blown hate. Perhaps it was the incessant snark, the teasing…

Perhaps it was the fact that Dean hadn’t been lying about him always being there. The times when you had a boy over, even if it wasn’t a date – he was there, on the couch, stuffed with popcorn. The times you would mention going out to a café, or an arcade with a guy, he happened to be there – spotting you all too easily and coming over to say hi.

Or maybe, it was just him being the general hot asshole. He dripped sin and no matter how hard you tried to not notice and move on from the place where you had nothing better to do but look at him, he would tease you about how he riled you up.

You couldn’t escape him.

Which made no sense…because his demeanor meant that he wasn’t a fan of yours either. You spat back retorts as fast as a gun, had compared his dick to one of the moldy carrots in your brother’s fridge, and had once physically pushed him away from a guy you had made the mistake of bringing home.

You were sure, he enjoyed it. There was something about the flare in his eyes that made you curious, wondering if maybe he was doing it on purpose…if the push and pull was something he found exciting.

You wouldn’t be surprised at all if he did.

The same held true for your place of work.

You had scoured and scored a job as a barista at the café and bakery nearest Dean’s apartment. The situation was lovely, the workers were friendly and the pay wasn’t unfair. You were happy in donning on a simply powder blue apron and doing the works behind the register every day.

Right up until Park Jimin began to show up there as well.

At first, you thought it was because Dean was the one dragging him there; having already warned you he was going to show up and scout out your new work place – just in case. You only wished he had done without Jimin hanging about, his own head swiveling about inquisitively before landing on you, sizing you up.

You couldn’t deny the flush of heat around your neck at his curious gaze and that made you angrier.

He had started to parade around in all his glory even without your brother about, smarmy smirks throw at you while he waited for you to serve him. He would blow kisses, raise an eyebrow challengingly when you threw disparaging looks at him.

And then one fateful day he took it too far.

He stood in line at the counter, you saw him first thing when you handed out change to the customers while another co-worker, Nina, handed out the orders.

You completely turned away from the counter when it was Jimin’s turn, not catching his eyes but ears working on hyperactive as he flirted heavily with the other girl.

Nina, for all her sweetness, blushed, stammered and nearly messed up his order which had you rolling your eyes in disgust. God, he wasn’t even that good. Why were girls all over themselves for him? You could at least give as well as you got.

The final thought had your head snapping up – in horror at you. Where had that come from? Since when had you wanted to be at the receiving end of Jimin’s flirtations? Granted, you always were the one he’d pick on, zero in on, whenever he was around but he did to annoy you.

You looked over your shoulder, finally meeting Jimin’s eyes, which were already on you. Nina had still not managed to get his drink done right, adding a bit too much sugar, you’d noticed than Jimin took but he only grinned – waving a hand to show it was all fine as he dropped a couple bills on the counter.

And then he threw you a cheeky, exaggerate wink, before turning on his heel and retreating back to his customary table.

That’s it.

You snarled to yourself mentally, tapping on Nina’s shoulder a little harder than necessary.

“I’ll do the customers now, you can handle the register.”

If there was anything off about your voice or your face, Nina didn’t mention it. She was probably way too into thinking about Jimin to be very observant anyway. She obediently moved to the other side of the counter, letting you stand to the front, now facing the rest of the line.

You couldn’t feel Jimin’s usual gaze on you, for the most part whenever you glanced at him; he was busy staring intently at his phone.

So, you swiftly handled and dispensed the customers, until one guy walked into your line of sight, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat and a nervous look in his eyes.

“Hi,” He said first thing.

You put your server smile on. “Good morning, sir. Welcome and what may I get you today?”

“Just a simple black coffee, for Min Yoongi,” The man said. You thought you caught him burying his hands further into his pockets, your smile flickering uncertainly.

“Just a simple black…? No additions?” You clarified, pen hovering over the order slip.

“Yeah no, it’s just it’s embarrassing…I’ve never had coffee in a café before, I always have my homemade blend. But my coffee maker broke so…”

None of the above information was necessary, but you could feel a small smile twitching at the edges of your lips. He was cute, shy and blushing.

“A simple black,” You scribbled the order, passing it to the kitchens, “Perhaps, you should have that machine looked at,” You laughed.

The answering laugh was slow but bubbling. “Well, I mean I could wait a few days – depending on the coffee here.” He said.

“We do have good coffee.” You considered, lowering your voice as you motioned for him to move to the checkout line. A simple black didn’t take much long to make and the line was thankfully empty for now. The paper cup stood steaming on the counter, the name Min Yoongi scrawled over in the chef’s large writing. You grabbed it quickly, putting it in a carrier and placing it in front of him.

The man carefully lifted the cup up, taking a sip, before shrugging. “It’s not half bad. Maybe, I can come by if the machine stays broken.” He lifted hopeful eyes to you.

You couldn’t help but flutter slightly. “I’d keep our simple black lane open.” You teased back and he nodded, still smiling before pulling out the bills for the coffee. He slipped in another bill to your hand.

“A tip, don’t be too eager to spend it.” He flushed heavily, turning quickly on his heel to walk out, the bell tinkling at his exit.

You glanced at the one note curiously. It wasn’t too big of an amount but what mattered was the little red numbers at the base – a phone number. You grinned to yourself. He must have written his number out when you were packing his coffee. You slipped the numbered bill into your pocket, getting back to work to the line when you saw him.

Jimin’s eyebrows were drawn together, thick lips pursed tightly as he drummed his fingers on the counter. His eyes snapped to you immediately when you walked to him.

“Want something else?” You asked lightly, trying not to ruin the small lift Min Yoongi’s number had given you.

“Yes, I would actually, if it’s fine with you.”

You glanced up, eyebrows rising at the curt tone.

“Your little friend over there couldn’t get my order straight. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like a decent drink.”

“Park, you were the one flirting with Nina.” You scowled at him.

His jaw clenched. “Does that mean I have to suffer through a cup of torture?”

You determinedly looked down, writing down the order Jimin had wanted before, passing it to the kitchens to be processed. Jimin didn’t wait for you to ask him anything else, moving to the checkout line before you could say anything. You silently passed him his drink when it came and he took one sip, before wordlessly exiting the shop, your eyes trailing after him.

You didn’t wait for the official lunch break. You knew he’d be gone by then and you didn’t want to talk to him about his stupid behavior in front of your brother. Grabbing a simple cappuccino to go, you tugged on your coat, exiting the shop, tracing his steps where you knew he would’ve gone – Dean’s apartment.

You didn’t have to go very far. He had stopped near a lamp post, leaning against his car, phone back out as he scrolled roughly on it.

“Hey, Park Jimin,” You arrived in a huff, fingers snapping under his nose that had him jumping – looking at you with a heavy glare in his eyes.

“Y/N, what the fuck,” He backed up into his car door.

“I should be asking you that question. What the fuck is your problem?”

The glare in Jimin’s eyes subsided, replaced with a cold indifference. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, that you’re usually a jackass to me but today you just crossed a few more lines. Why would you flirt with Nina if you didn’t like the coffee she made? And why would you take it out on me?”

“Whoa, ok, I’m not a jackass to you, ok? I was just teasing you with that girl; I didn’t think she’d be so bad at a simple coffee.”

You crossed your arms across your chest. “Doesn’t explain why you were being all stuck up and awful, simply because I served another customer before you?”

Jimin paused, eyes trailing over you. “He gave you his number, didn’t he? I know guys like him; they act all shy to get girls like you falling over them. You’re my best friend’s sister, Y/N; I’m just looking out for you.”

“That is such…” You tried to think of a bad enough word, but looking at Jimin now, the smug arch of his eyebrow, the tilt to his head – you knew he was vying for a fight, anything to get out of the fact that you had called him out on his behavior.

So you did the exact opposite.

“You acted like you were jealous, Park.” You prodded, watching his eyes widen in vindictive pleasure.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“No, no, that’s what this all is about, isn’t it? All the interruptions on my dates, all the intimidating the boys I hung about with…you were just jealous.”

Jimin was backing up now, his hand clenching his door handle. “Y/N, I’m warning you.”

“Oh please, how ridiculous could you get?” You snapped and so did he. His hand shot out; he grabbed onto the back of your coat, yanking you to him, chest pressing tight to his.

Unfortunately, your arm caught between your bodies, the paper cup crumpling from the pressure and splashing all over him. Thankfully, your coat took most of the brunt while his shirt soaked through with what was probably sizzling coffee.

“Son of a bitch,” Jimin jerked away from you, hands pulling away the fabric of his shirt from his skin.

“Oh god,” You dropped the cup in the trashcan under the light post. “Are you burnt?”

“No – no, but I need to get home. Fucking now,” Jimin growled, unlocking the car to roughly pull the door open. “Get in.” He called curtly and for once you obeyed, circling the car as he revved the engine, driving to your apartment.

The car ride was silent, except for the soft curses Jimin let out, squirming in the seat as the wet fabric cooled against his body.

Once home, you led Jimin straight to the washer, letting him unbutton the shirt so you could stash it and your coat in to wash them. Of course, watching nimble fingers work to pull away a sticky cloth from Jimin’s chiseled torso did distract you for a bit but then he opened his mouth.

“You’re paying for the shirt, you know. It was expensive.” He grumbled, leaning against the bathroom door.

You rolled your eyes immediately. “It’s just a shirt, Jimin, and machine washable, it’ll come out fine.”

“Sure, sure,” Jimin smirked. “Isn’t this awfully domestic of you, washing my clothes?”

You didn’t even deign to stand up to face him. “Fuck yourself Park,” You said calmly.

“Actually,” there was a heavy pause. “I think I’ll just fuck you.”

The next thing you felt was a hand at your chin, turning you sideways where Jimin placed his lips on yours fully.

The squeak you let out was not the sexiest sound you could’ve made in that moment. But then, you hadn’t exactly expected Park Jimin to be kissing you in any way possible. His eyes were clamped shut while yours were blown wide open, watching his brow furrow with effort as he delved deeper into you.

Your hands had grabbed onto the sides of his waist, the curve smooth and cold under your slick palm, if not a little sticky too.

When he pulled away, perhaps to gauge your reaction, your mouth fell open about as wide as your eyes, watching him stunned.

“Yeah,” He huffed, “not exactly the most self controlled thing I’ve done.”

“But…what about all that shit about Dean and watching over me?”

“Are you kidding? He’d be thrilled if you and I got together – but he’d still knock my blinkers up and down the street for not telling him first. Which was what I was texting him about,” He pulled out his phone from his back pocket, showing you a text conversation between him and your brother.

You didn’t even glance at the screen.

“So, all that time when you were being a jerk, you could’ve just come up and kissed me?”

“Well, not really but,”

“Fuck, stop talking.” You groaned, dropping your head in your hand before growling. “Take it all off.” You dug your hand into his waist band, to drive your point home before reaching down for the hem of your own clothes, lifting and tugging it over your head.

“Oh, okay,” Jimin took a second to move, removing everything, your own jeans and underwear joining his on the bathroom floor before the both of you migrated to the wall next to the bathtub, kissing with fervor.

“You’re an idiot, just so we’re on the same page.” You managed to spill when Jimin’s lips – and better, his tongue and teeth – moved to your neck, lining the slope of your throat with harsh pink suckles.

“Babe, we both need to shut up if we’re going to finish this before Dean gets home.” Jimin looked up with a heavy smirk as he ran his tongue over your bottom lip, teeth digging in to part the seam of your mouth. You groaned, feeling him let go as he trailed his fingers down to your exposed breasts, thick fingers digging into the supple flesh, smacking one to watch it jiggle.

“Goddamn, if only I’d had the guts to just do this before when I saw you prance about the house in nothing but that huge shirt and panties.”

“Ironic, I’ve wanted you for roughly the same amount of time.” Your arms wound around his neck as he took a nipple in his mouth, sucking on it hard and rough, letting it go just as abruptly.

Your head thudded back, Jimin dropping to his knees easily. “I’ve wanted to eat this pussy for so long. All those times I’ve come over to see you on your stomach on the couch, or with some dude who probably doesn’t even know how do it -,”

“I thought we were going to shut up.”

Jimin threw you a dirty grin. “Make me.”

You smirked right back – if Jimin thought you were going to take the bait, he didn’t know you too well. Instead, you tangled five fingers in his sleek hair, yanking him closer to your core. “I will,”

His hands travelled up the expanse of your thighs, goose bumps soothed by his nails as his thumbs hooked into the apex of your legs. Jimin hummed against the burning skin, tongue placing kitten licks over the exposed clit.

If it wasn’t the sensation that had you leaning against the wall for balance when Jimin threw a knee over his shoulder, it was the fact that he never removed his eyes from your face.

His tongue traced over your glistening folds, dipping into your hole then fluttering back to your clit to suck it into his mouth, all the while his eyes burned into yours, as if he was devouring more than just your heat, your very essence.

You reached for his shoulders. “Come here,” You kissed him almost savagely, your taste on his lips as you plunged your tongue into his mouth. Fumbling with the free hand, you stroked his length, hands slickening in his arousal.

Finally when he pulled away, he went straight to the bathroom cabinet. “Your brother keeps his condoms here.” He explained.

“I don’t even wanna know why you know that.” You crinkled your nose, ignoring his chuckle as he rolled the sheath onto his shaft. Coming back to you, he kissed the wrinkle off your nose.

He grabbed your thigh, letting it rest over his elbows as he stretched one hand along the wall, holding it tightly in his. Tilting his hips at an angle, he fed his cock into you, a deep guttural groan escaping him as your velvet walls engulfed him tightly.

“I’d take a million ass beatings for a few minutes of this.” He grunted, his first thrusts slow and shallow, stretching you out before he was hefting his arm higher, parting your legs further.

The first angled deep thrust had you gasping, his lips sneaking over yours, subtly muffling the moans and whimpers by swallowing them.

Jimin maintained a steady pace, slow but deep, pushing himself to your limits, mouth wet over any inch of you he could reach, before he was pulling out, turning you to bend over the bathtub. Your fingers wrapped around its lip, tight and bloodless when he delved further back into you.

This time, however, there was nothing slow about him.

He entered you ruthlessly, fast, going even deeper if possible, his teeth clenched when you felt him lean over your, brushing away hair from your ears.

“Do you feel me, Y/N? You’ve been missing out on this.” He laughed, breathless when he reared back and then started plunging into you again, battering his pelvis against your ass.

The sounds of your broken whines accompanied the sharp slaps of your skin meeting his. His hands gripped at your neck, pushing your further down until your were completely bent in half, his head rubbing against your spot and then you were exploding – almost pulling away from him.

“Not done yet, babe,” You felt him enter you again, somewhere through the haze of your bliss, your orgasm seemingly endless as his ferocious speed kept you on the sweet edge of never quite finishing.

When he finally erupted, arms wrapped tight around your chest and waist, standing as he worded curses against your neck, you came once more, arching into the wall, before he rested the both of your exhausted bodies against it.

“We’ll have to talk to Dean if you wanna do this again.” You mumbled.

“Yeah,” He sighed. “But we still have some time.”

He glanced at you sheepishly.

“Round two?”

#btsbookclub #ficswithluv #smutcentralnet #jimin smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin #park jimin #bts jimin #bts #jimin x reader

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kpop-zone · 4 years ago

Text

Mafia Itzy meeting their s/o for the first time

*Warning: mentioning of violence, blood, profanities*

Yeji

Yeji huffed annoyed. This nightlife wasn’t as thrilling as it used to be. In the beginning, it was exciting to know that she could have everyone in this club, but by now, she was just bored. People were either scared or worshiped her because of her job. There was no challenge anymore.

“Don’t you like the offer?”

Junghwa, one of her sidekicks, asked with a smirk while pointing at all the people who were dancing downstairs. From the VIP lounge upstairs, Yeji had a perfect view on everyone, but she didn’t even bother to let her eyes wander. It had been months already since somebody had managed to spark her interest. Junghwa, however, didn’t stop bugging her until Yeji sighed in defeat and glanced down.

The club was completely packed. Some people were sitting in the booths at the sides, but most of them were moving their bodies to the rapid techno beats on the dancefloor at the heart of the club. Every now and then, Yeji caught someone staring at the VIP lounge, checking her out. A lot of people that were flaunting themselves down there just wanted to be invited by her to come upstairs. But it had been ages since she had last done that. For a while now, she came here alone and left without company again. If she wouldn’t own this club and use it for her diverse businesses, she wouldn’t even bother to come here anymore.

“I told you, Junghwa. No one can spark my in-“

Yeji was about to curb Junghwa’s excitement, when she fell silent in the middle of her sentence. Her eyes had landed on something, or better, someone that knocked the air out of her lungs.

You were dancing in the middle of the dancefloor, but Yeji had had no trouble spotting you. The way you moved your body was divine and everything on your body screamed perfection.

“Your interest?”

Junghwa chuckled beside her, but Yeji was too focused on you to respond.

“Shall I send someone to get them?”

She offered and Yeji nodded absentmindedly. You had to come up here. She needed to have a closer look.

But what happened next, was unexpected. Yeji observed one of her subordinates exiting the VIP lounge and squeezing himself through the moving crowd on the dancefloor, all the way to you. But after he had leaned down to whisper something into your ear, you simply shook your head and turned your back to him. Perplexed, he looked up at her before giving it another try. But once again, you turned him or better her down.

This had never happened before.

Everyone would kill to get an invitation to the VIP lounge and to get to her.

“What an idiot. Who do they think they are?”

Junghwa growled angrily, already getting ready to take care of you. But Yeji quickly held her back.

“I’ll take care of it.”

She stated calmly before making her way to the exit of the VIP lounge.

Everything about you was perfect. Your looks were breathtaking, and you didn’t seem to be interested in her or her influence at all.

Exactly the challenge that she was looking for.

Lia

“I hate Mondays.”

Lia cursed while lunging behind a car, nearly escaping a bullet that had wanted to bore through her flesh.

The question of sovereignty in this city had been a highly discussed one in the past weeks and after countless passive threats and indirect attacks, her biggest enemy had decided to strike today. She had just left the restaurant after a business appointment when someone opened fire without a warning. Because it had been a peaceful meeting, Lia went in without a gun. Therefore, she was now trapped behind this car completely unarmed while her subordinates were returning fire.

“Miss, watch out!”

A sudden loud voice made Lia flinch but before she could react, a force slammed her to the ground. In the same moment, she heard a bullet passing only inches above her head before boring its way into the car.

“Oh my god, are you ok?”

You were hovering above her with a concerned look on your face and Lia seriously considered if she had just died. You had to be an angel. In complete awe, she stared at you until you ripped her out of her trance by crawling off her.

“This must be some sort of gang war. But don’t worry, we’ll make it out of here.”

Only now Lia realized how your whole body was shaking. You were just an innocent pedestrian that had been caught up in this shoot-out, terrified to die. And apparently you were thinking that the same had happened to her.

“I think we are just targeted by one shooter. Do you see the alley over there? If we are quick, we can reach the alley while they are reloading.”

You proposed breathlessly and Lia nodded absentmindedly, completely impressed with the way you handled this situation. You were smart and she felt herself falling for you more and more with every second.

“Ok, when I say ‘now’ we run.”

Suddenly, you took off your jacket, causing Lia to stare at you in confusion, but a second later, she could reconstruct your reasoning. You threw the jacket from behind the car, resulting in a hail of bullets being directed at the piece of clothing until the enormous noise suddenly stopped.

“NOW!!”

You yelled before grabbing her hand and starting to make a run for the alley.

The two of you were fast, but the shooter was too. Right before you could reach the alley, bullets flew in your direction again, causing Lia’s adrenaline level to rise significantly. After some more steps, however, she managed to reach the alley unscathed.

“That was a close one.”

She chuckled, but when she turned to look at you her demeanor changed immediately. You were looking even paler than before, clutching your stomach while red liquid was seeping through your fingers.

“Oh my god.”

Lia exclaimed in shock, immediately pulling out her phone.

“Pick me up at Manhwa restaurant. I don’t care if you have to get me with a tank. Just get me!”

You were starting to lose your conscious and Lia carelessly threw away her phone in order to stabilize you.

“Ok now, stay with me please.”

Gently, Lia patted your cheek, but you didn’t respond. Nervously, she held you in her arms, rocking you back and forth, waiting for the backup to finally show up. It felt like hours till several armored SUVs finally pulled up and returned fire. Some of her men immediately ran to her to check up on her, but Lia yelled at them to get you into the car.

“To the hospital!”

She exclaimed panicked once they were in safety.

“Don’t you worry now. I’ll take care of you from now on.”

Lia whispered into your ear after pulling you into her arms.

Ryujin

“Let’s just get this meeting over with.”

Ryujin huffed annoyed while hesitating to get out of the car. A customer of hers hadn’t paid in a while, stalling her with stupid lies over and over again, but now she needed to put an end to this charade. Meetings like this were never pretty, but it had to be done. She took a last deep breath before absentmindedly pushing the car door open and stepping outside. Right when her feet touched the ground, a loud screeching sound could be heard, causing Ryujin to reflexively take up a defense stance. In front of her was no attacker, however, but just a common biker who was hanging over the handlebar of their bike, seeming to have made an emergency stop because of her.

“Are you blind??”

You yelled agitated, catching Ryujin completely off guard. You dared to yell at her?

“Don’t you know who I am?”

She scoffed dumbfounded while straightening herself in order to seem more threatening. This was her part of town. Everyone knew who she was, and no one dared to cross her.

“Don’t you know how to read?”

You asked cynically while pointing at the ground. Ryujin followed the direction of your digit finger with her eyes to find a big bicycle sign, indicating that she had stepped onto the bicycle lane without checking first. You mumbled some more incomprehensible complains before shaking your head and speeding off as fast as you had almost crashed into her. Ryujin was completely speechless.

Who did you think you were?

“Should we send someone after them?”

Her subordinates had rushed to her side by now, witnessing parts of this highly unusual verbal duel. There was a clear protocol about how to deal with such impudence.

As much as Ryujin agitated herself over this encounter though, deep down she knew that you had been right to rebuke her. And to make things worse, she was also slightly impressed. Maybe you hadn’t known who she was, but no matter what, you had to be a person who stood up for themselves. And Ryujin liked that trait. A lot.

“Yes.”

Ryujin’s gaze was still fixed on the road, although you were already long gone. You had really sparked her interest.

Two of her subordinates immediately wanted to take up the chase, but she stopped them with a simple move of her hand.

“Don’t hurt them. Just observe. I want to know everything. Where they live, what they do, what they like. But don’t you dare to lay a finger on them.”

Her gaze was ice-cold as she stared down her subordinates who immediately noticed the graveness of this situation. Intimidated, they nodded before rushing off. She hoped for their sakes that they would find you. Her fascination with you was making her skin tingle and she needed to know more about you. Her disappointment if she wouldn’t be able to, would have a deadly outcome.

Chaeryeong

Chaeryeong sighed relieved; finally, some time to herself. She knew that she needed protection as the leader of a clan- she had thousands of enemies after all. But once in a while, she just liked to take a walk on her own. Her subordinates were around her 24/7 and she needed a break every now and then. Of course, she wasn’t stupid though. She always had her guard up and a loaded gun in reach And today that carefulness seemed to pay off. She had been strolling through the streets without a pattern for approximately an hour, when she noticed an abnormality.

You.

First, she had seen you entering a café four blocks from here. After that she had lost you out of sight, but suddenly you appeared again in a park a few streets from there. This could have been a coincidence, but now she spotted you a few steps in front of her, walking towards her, engrossed in your phone as if that could make her believe that you weren’t watching her. When you were only one step away from her, you even looked up from your phone and looked into her face. Your gaze lingered for a while and you actually turned your head a bit in order to keep your eyes on her longer as you passed by.

That was enough.

You had to be spying on her and she needed to find out who she had to punish for that. Abruptly, Chaeryeong changed directions and started following you. To her surprise, you didn’t seem to notice her, and she scoffed.

“Amateur.”

You really were bad at your job. She was sure that she wouldn’t have a problem getting an answer out of you.

When you walked past the next alley, Chaeryeong pounced on you and roughly pushed you into it in order to trap you against a wall. Her fingers dug into your collar and her face was dangerously close to yours.

“Who are you working for??”

She hissed angrily while shoving you even harder against the wall.

“W-what?”

You looked terrified, but Chaeryeong wouldn’t fall for your game. You weren’t the first one who tried to get out of her punishment by playing dumb.

“Quit the lies. I know that you are spying on me. I saw you staring at me.”

Chaeryeong chuckled arrogantly, remembering how easy you had made it for her to catch you red-handed.

“I-I just thought t-that you were p-pretty.”

Your answer caught her completely off guard and she automatically loosened her grip on you.

For the first time, Chaeryeong really looked at you; not through the eyes of a paranoid mafia leader, but really looked at you. You were gorgeous. Due to the closeness, she could study every inch of your face and there wasn’t one flaw. You were simply perfect. And if she really thought about it, you didn’t really fit the profile of a gangster. This could only mean one thing: you were telling the truth.

Ashamed, Chaeryeong stepped back and let go of your collar. You looked at her insecurely, but when you noticed that her anger had vanished, you quickly ran away. She looked after you like in trance. Your eyes had burnt into her mind and she felt a little bit dizzy from being so close to you. She had never seen someone more stunning in her life and she needed to see you again. Chaeryeong didn’t bother to chase after you though.

“I’ll find you.”

She mumbled under her breath while fidgeting with your wallet that she had pulled out of your pocket right before you had run away.

Yuna

“And where’s that damn server?”

Yuna’s closest subordinate Chansung snarled angrily beside her, causing her to roll her eyes.

She loved all the power she had, but sometimes she wished that she had an equal partner, instead of only those dense puppets of hers with anger issues.

“HEY! You! Come over here!”

He yelled at a server who was standing across the room, making anger bubble inside of Yuna. She would make sure to apologize and punish this airhead as soon as they left this building. When the server came over though, they unexpectedly beat her to it.

“Excuse me, sir. I don’t know if you have some sort of mental defect, because otherwise, you would be able to see that you are not the only customer tonight. We are doing our best and I’m sorry if you had to wait but there is no need to be rude. So I’m glad to serve you when you have adjusted your tone.”

With those words, you turned on your heel and stormed off, leaving behind a speechless table. While Chansung started complaining loudly to the others after his shock had died down, Yuna gazed after you in amazement. She was absolutely stunned. You had to serve a table full of people whose shady background was visible from ten miles away, but you didn’t shy back from putting them in their place. That was the most attractive thing that she had ever witnessed in her life.

“...they are going to regret this. They are in for some special treatment of mine.”

The harsh word of Chansung ripped Yuna out of her trance and she looked at him hatefully.

“Please call over the server.”

She asked him with a quivering voice, laced with anger. His eyes widened fearfully, and he raised his arm immediately to catch your attention. It didn’t take long till you stood in front of their table again and Yuna averted her burning gaze from Chansung to flash you a soft smile that you reciprocated.

“Chansung, I believe you have something to say to our server.”

She said sweetly, causing him to look at her in confusion. Apparently, he still hadn’t gotten her point and she needed to give him a hint.

“Kneel.”

Yuna’s order was cold and left no doubt for interpretation. Nevertheless, Chansung stared at her in disbelief and started stuttering some excuses.

“Are you deaf? I said kneel! And apologize sincerely!”

Yuna snarled while slamming her hand on the table, causing everyone to straighten up, except for Chansung who immediately got on his knees.

“I-I’m really s-sorry for my b-behavior. I-I’ll make sure to compensate you.”

He stuttered and Yuna nodded satisfied.

When she looked at you, however, she could see that you seemed to be somewhat distraught. She must have scared you.

“Ok, guys. It’s time for us to leave.”

It hadn’t been her attention to scare you and Yuna knew that she had to remove herself from this situation if she wanted to have a chance with you. She wanted to get to know you better, but she couldn’t reach that if you were afraid of her. Therefore, she threw a bundle of money on the table before leaping to her feet and leaving the restaurant. There would be a better opportunity to introduce herself.

She would be back.

#itzy reaction #itzy #itzy imagine #yeji #lia #ryujin #chaeryeong #yuna #girl group imagine #girl group reaction #girl group #gg reaction #kpop reaction #kpop

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theutterlyboredwriter · 4 years ago

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Bounty and the Hunter

Summary: The Mandalorian's newest bounty is a seemingly harmless prostitue who offers up her services for him not bringing her in.

Rating: Explicit (I know you won't listen but if you're under 18 don't read)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: SMUT (if it's cringey I'm sorry,it's my first time writing smut), oral (M receving), mentions of prostitution, generally sexy themes, cursing, if there's anything else let me know

A/N: HI!!! This is my first post (!!!) and also the first smut I've ever written so if it sucks...sorry lmao. I also just finished rewatching the Mandalorian and it's SO GOOD!! I hope you like it!

The alarm that usually roused you from sleep had been playing for nearly half an hour before you realized that you were late. After getting dressed into the pink bra and underwear as well as the pink mesh tunic that had become your uniform these past six months, you walked out of your house. Running through the empty street you ducked into an alley and walked into the back entrance of the club, hoping that your boss wouldn't notice that you were fifteen minutes late. Thankfully, the early morning/late night rush was enough to distract him as you slipped in and set your stuff down at your station. The club was both a strip club and brothel, the latter only for those who were of a certain rank and distinction, and it was always busy between ten pm and five am. The clock on the wall read 3:58, you only had two minutes before your first customer was due to come and call on you, so you sat and touched up the makeup that had smudged as you ran from your place to the club.

"Hey! Booth number one wants you," Linberen called to you as she walked out on stage.

Your services ranged from lap dances to…well, there hadn't been anything you hadn't said yes to for the right price yet, but you had quickly become one of the most sought-after girls in the little club. The lights were a dim yellow, low from broken lights and dust that had covered the bulbs no one ever cared to change. The owner, Gribrad said it gave the place some character and ambiance, but it just accentuated the shitty stone walls and grimy wood floors that Gribrad was too cheap to replace. It was busy, the stage was covered by four girls, and there wasn't an open space around the jutted out stage, crowded by men throwing measly credits on the stage. To your right were the different booths, each covered with a purple velvet curtain to allow the customers some privacy. Towards the front of the building was booth one and you took a small breath before pushing the curtain back far enough to allow yourself entrance into the small space. Your eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the significantly darker room before you spotted something shiny that struck fear into your heart, beskar.

"Don't run, I can see in your eyes that you want to. It will be a waste." The voice was deep and gruff, altered by a modulator, but the voice struck a nerve in you and sent chills down your spine. You set your hands on your lap, allowing the armored man to see that you didn't plan on pulling a knife on him, while silently reprimanding yourself for not bringing a knife like Linberen had told you to do so many times before.

"I have to say, 60,000 credits for a prostitute is a hefty bounty. Usually, that kind of price is attached to someone who's committed treason." The words fell heavy into the air. The shitty dance music in the background did little to ease the looming silence that was so obvious between the two of you.

"What's a Mandalorian like you doing here? I thought you all were killed years ago?" You asked weakly, the lump in your throat making it hard to do anything else but breathe heavily.

"Apparently not."

You'd heard that all the Mandalorians were dead, wiped out in a massive genocide by the Empire, but yet here one sat across from you. That's when it struck you that Beskar was still being sold on the black market and this could just be a silly impostor.

"I beg to differ. For all I know you just bought the armor off of some black-market dealer to scare other bounty hunters. Mandalore was destroyed years ago by the Empire," you said with a smirk. Today wasn't the day that you would be played by some asshole in armor; you needed to make money, and this wasn't a real customer.

"With all due respect, I have things to do like work, and as much fun as sitting here in silence with you is, I need to get back to work. I'll tell Gribrad that it was just a meeting, so you won't get charged but if you exc-," you'd started to get up, but the man grabbed your arm and threw you back onto the leather seats.

"With all due respect," he began through gritted teeth, "I'm not leaving without you in handcuffs."

"Listen, if you want it like that just tell me and I can get that arranged," you chuckle, hoping that the joke will lessen the growing tension in the booth.

It didn't.

"The only way that I'm going to leave is with you, now I can kill you or have you come along cooperatively, your choice."

"Who are you taking me back to? Why is there a bounty out for me? How did you find me?" You try to cover the apparent fear with anger, hoping that something drastic will happen and allow you to escape.

He sits in silence; his regulated breathing is so overwhelming that you feel suffocated. By now your eyes have adjusted to the dark and you see that his blaster is pointed in your direction, sitting by his right thigh. A million scenarios race through your mind of how you could try to distract him and kill him with his own gun until you realize that your bounty would only grow and make it harder to hide. You don't realize how deep in thought you are until the man slaps his gloved hand on your knee to get your attention.

"Listen Mandalorian, I don't know why you are here but I'm innocent. I've done nothing to warrant a bounty and I haven't hurt anyone. Let me go, I'll give you whatever you want to just pretend you never saw me." The desperate slew of words spills out as he cocks his head off to the side to look at you. You feel the judgment and disgust burning a hole into you, and suddenly you wish you had been much later to work.

"I don't bargain with criminals."

The answer is plain and cuts you like a knife.

"There has to be something that you need! A maid, a mechanic, a-a um… a stress reliever?" You know throwing out sex for protection is a low spot in your life, but you have no interest in being turned over to be murdered or tortured.

For the first time all morning, you feel that he is contemplating what you've said. But truth be told, you have no idea what is going through his head. The rigidness of his body rids you of the advantage of reading body language, and his chrome helmet blocks and facial expressions you could possibly read, but something in your soul tells you that even if you could see his face right now it wouldn't help you.

An eternity passes before his modulated voice lets out an answer.

"Have you ever worked as a mechanic before?"

Not the answer you wanted.

"For a few years, yeah," you mutter, voice wracked with worry.

Again, the two of you are left in silence; so you resign to twiddling with the worn pink mesh that covers your body, running your fingers over the rips that have gathered these past few months.

The man sighs. Loudly. You take this as a sign of hope, you hope.

"I am willing to postpone the date in which I bring you back in return for you to work for me. You step out of place once and I put a bullet in your head and deliver you to the people who want you, got it?"

You gulp and slowly nod, not wanting to upset him in any way.

"I'll give you five minutes to grab your things and then meet me here. Don’t run."

You stand on wobbly legs, grabbing onto the wall to support you, and begin to walk to the back of the club so you can grab your things. The thought of running seems nice, but you know that he probably has someone at the back just waiting for you to run. The loud music is drowned out, secondary to the thumping of your blood through your heart. You don't have much to take with you, a couple hundred credits, a change of clothes, and a small bag of makeup.

"Didn't you just get here? Why are you packing your shit up?" Ajislen asks as she changes into a new outfit for the next stage show.

"I have to leave, I can't really explain it," you try to answer. You don't want to say too much, but you also don't want to leave your friends without a word. Then it hits you, your friends. You won't see these people for a while, possibly forever. Not that it would matter much to them, but you'd like to think that your absence will be noticed.

Suddenly the lights begin to flicker. Just for a second, but long enough to draw the attention of all the girls in the room.

"Ugh, this place is a dump. I don't blame you for leaving." With that, she leaves.

You walk through the front of the club and see the Mandalorian standing at the front of the club, guarding the front entrance. The man grabs your arm and guides you from the club, looking around at the empty streets. Being only 4:30, the streets are bare and it's dark out, but it somehow feels more dangerous with this heavily guarded man on your arm than it did as you ran to the club less than an hour ago, defenseless and utterly alone. The walk to his ship takes forever, maybe because you are now fearful to be on this planet; or maybe because you aren't sure if he is going to stay true to his word. He could be leading you back, only to turn around and put a bullet in your head. But either way, as your feet trudge through the sandy road, you find yourself in painful silence.

Talking was one of your most favorite things to do, there wasn't a person you'd met who you hadn't been able to strike up a conversation with. You loved the idea of getting to know people, to open up and share something with someone. You knew better than to try and talk to this man. You feared to ask his name or say anything around him.

The ship was parked in the middle of a sand dune, far enough to not be bothered by the local traffic. In all honesty, it looked a little shitty. Part of you hoped that he would allow you to work on it and try to make it look better. It could be your ticket to surviving, spoke a little voice in your head.

He pushed you into the ship, and your breath caught in your throat as you swore you felt his fingers trace down your spine. Nonsense, you told yourself and started walking forward. If the outside was shitty the inside was utterly depressing, you could tell that this ship was in desperate need of your touch, and though you didn't realize it at that moment, so did something else.

"I'll find some blankets and you can make a spot to sleep on the floor." He said as he began to close the door to the ship, "The fresher is behind that door and the cockpit is up this ladder."

That was all he said before ascending the ladder, leaving you alone and scared. You assumed that he was getting ready to take off, so you found a spot on the floor to sit and try to grapple with what had happened in the past hour. So much had gone unprocessed and you were just coming to terms with the brevity of the situation. There was a 60,000-credit bounty out for you, who hadn't committed a crime, who was just trying to make enough to live. You knew why the bounty was out, but you decided in that booth that he obviously didn't know, so you'd feign ignorance too. It probably wouldn't do much, but you didn't know and trying to stay alive and uncaptured seemed like a good idea.

"Damn it!" You heard from above, and without thinking, you went to explore.

It was only as you entered the cockpit that you realized that you were probably overstepping your boundaries. It was too late to go back though, so you walked towards the pilot seat hoping that you'd be able to be of some assistance.

"Can I help?" You asked meekly.

The shiny helmet jerked to look at you, probably out of shock but quickly turned its attention back to the dashboard.

"Not unless you can fix this to let me input the coordinates."

You looked over his shoulder at the switches and knobs illuminated in a variety of colors, trying to find the thing that was causing trouble. You saw it finally, a small button that was lodged in a funky position that was preventing the circuit from running and allowed the coordinates to be input.

Without a word you reached past him to fix the issue, your mesh-covered chest brushing past his metal shoulder piece. You gasped to yourself, the cold beskar evoking a far more sexual feeling than it should. With a small breath to yourself, you pushed the feeling down and went to work on fixing the button so you two could be on your way.

"Thank you," he said curtly.

You just nodded and sat in the passenger seat, trying to remove your mind from the fact that just touching his armor had turned you on more than you had been in years. Silently you wondered if he'd heard your gasp, silently you hoped that he liked it. The feeling stayed, and further reflection only deepened the growing warmth in your stomach. First, his hand trailing down your back and then that? That's when you remembered that you had offered yourself not only as a mechanic and maid but as someone to help alleviate his stress.

So maybe it was this memory, the growing wetness between your thighs, or some entirely different force that compelled you to slide off the chair and onto your hands and knees. You waited until he had successfully entered hyperspace before you crawled under the dashboard and settled yourself between his thighs. He looked down at you, giving you the perfect chance to see yourself reflected in his helmet. Slowly you ran your hands up his thighs, shuddering as you ran your fingertips gently over the beskar. Your left hand stroked his thigh while your right hands began to palm his crotch through the thick fabric. To your very welcome surprise you found that he was hard, he seemed to be just as turned on as you were. The fabric was thick, but you could feel him getting harder as your fingers ran over and gave a little squeeze, and it was then that you almost ascended into the next level of consciousness. His hand, his strong gloved hand, wrapped around yours and gave a squeeze.

The moan that you let out was unholy, and from above you heard a little sigh of approval slip from the helmet. Drunk on the confidence you'd just been given; you reached for his zipper and began to work at releasing him. He lifted his hips so you could push his pants and lower armor down to his ankles.

Now you'd never been a religious woman, not by any stretch of the imagination, but as you saw what this mysterious man was hiding underneath all the armor you felt compelled to thank whatever was out there. Again, you let out a moan. You reached out to grab the base of his cock and slowly began to pump him, trying to commit every ridge and vein to memory. But it was too dry, and no doubt uncomfortable for him, so you reached between your legs and pushed aside the thong that was painfully damp to gather some lubrication. Quickly you returned your now wet hand to his cock and started to pump, your thumb swirling the tip and gathering all the precum he had to offer. This time it was his turn to let out a moan, and god were you thankful for it. Even with the modulator, you could hear how gritty it was from having a dry throat. And that's when you decided to say fuck it and go in for the gold. Leaning back on your haunches and grabbing onto his thighs with a still sopping wet hand, you took all of him into your mouth.

His whole body shook, overwhelmed with the sensation. You took your time, tracing your tongue up and down his cock, occasionally swirling your tongue around the tip.

"F-fuck," he muttered more to himself than to you.

One of his hands reached behind your head and grabbed hold on your ponytail in a death grip. Feeling his hand tighten around your hair drove you to just swallow him, your tight mouth struggling to fit all of him in your mouth. He wasn't unusually large, but Maker was he thick. As you sat there, viciously bobbing your head up and down, it occurred to you that tomorrow you wouldn't be able to comfortably eat food, and that thought spurred you on more. Your hand moved from his place on his thigh to cradle his balls, trying desperately to please him.

He could barely stand the sight of your big eyes looking up at him so innocently as you devoured his cock in the vilest way. He felt his stomach begin to tighten, hurtling towards a release that you both wanted. You could feel him starting to become rigid, and to compensate you sucked harder, hollowing out your cheeks, and moaned into him.

That was all it took. He tried to pull himself off of you, to cum somewhere else but you pushed yourself down, gagging as ropes of cum painted this inside of your throat. The man who was so silent, so restrained, had turned into a moaning mess in your mouth. You waited, rubbing his thighs with your delicate fingers until he had finished before looking up at him and swallowing.

You pulled yourself off of him and he let go of his hold on your hair.

Crawling around him you got up and decided to go to the fresher and try to take care of yourself. Though he hadn't done a single thing for you, you were wetter than you had ever been before. That's when it hit you, this was the first time in your entire life that you had given a blowjob out of pure desire, no money or bribery to entice you. A small chuckle left your mouth as you started to descend the ladder when a voice called out for you.

"I'm not done with you yet."

#theutterlyboredwriter #the mandalorian #mandalorian smut #mandalorian x reader #smut #the mandalorian x you #reader insert #fanfic #din djarin #din djarin smut

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missfluffywriter · 5 years ago

Text

Purple Irises I Mafia Park Jimin x Reader

Authors note: Hello everyone! I know I’m supposed to be working on something else, but I couldn’t help myself. I read this amazing fic by @taetaewonderland Its called “The Bird Cage” and Oh My god it is so amazing. That is where I got the inspiration from, so please check out their blog. This isn’t my first BTS fic but it is my first mafia au fic. I had so much fun writing this I did this in like two day. And I was so inxplicably motivated. But yeah. And the fic does contain some medical stuff, and I tried doing my research but I could be wrong, and if you know something is wrong please tell me. :’) But there isn’t a lot of stuff. Just some here and there. If you think see any grammatical mistakes or mistakes in general, please let me know. Okay, that it for me. Happy readings!

Word count: About 7.6k

Genre: Mafia AU, no angst yet :)

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

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

Purple Irises: Royalty and wisdom

Warnings: Blood, guns, language, violence

Next chapter I Masterlist

Gentle rays of light peered in through the store windows, the sun barely peeking over the mountains. A soft zephyr breezing through the streets. You admired the quaint peacefulness of the early mornings one more time, before starting your work in the flower shop. Relishing the freshness brought by the morning, you got up and grabbed your apron sitting on the reception desk, with a gentle smile you made your way to the back of the shop.

You made a mental to-do list as you collected the modified bucket. All the watering of the plants was done by hand. And this bucket was large enough to hold the amount of water needed to water all the flowers and plants in one trip. Only the problem was, when full the bucket was impossible to lift. So as a simple solution you suggested adding wheels to the bucket. Which had been working pretty well since installment. You wheeled the big bucket to the hose, and started the water as you waited for your boss to arrive. Sang Soomin, she was the owner of this lovely shop, and a good friend of yours. You were at a low point when she offered you this job, and helped you get back on your feet, and you were grateful for that.

“Good morning (Y/n)!” Speak of the devil, “Working as hard as always I see, We’re gonna need that kind of concentration today. There's a huge order that needed to be delivered later this afternoon” She smiled, putting away her bag under the reception desk. She rolled up her shirt sleeves before throwing her apron on.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, they asked for daisies, marigolds, white lilies, asters. And they ordered enough to decorate a mansion, I’m guessing a party.” She said, gliding over to where you stood. Ah, another party. The flower shop may have been small but it was in a rich neighborhood, a filthy rich neighbourhood. That was also why you were able to survive on only one job. You were snapped from your thoughts when you heard the splashes of water falling to the ground.

“Ah Darn it,” Soomin let out a soft giggle at your dismay. You hurried to close the faucet and sighed at the mess. Though not much had spilled over, you still had to clean up what had. You turned to grab some paper towels when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“ I got it.” She threw some paper towels on the ground, she used her foot to move around the paper towels to soak up the spilled water. “Actually, leave all the watering to me. There's still some roses that need de-thorning. Can you get on that please? Seeing as you happen to be better at it,”

“Got it,” You smiled, turning to the smaller flower room where most of the flower arranging happened.

“Okay, and that's the last one,” You heaved, hands tired from clipping thorns from roses for the past, what? Two hours? You pulled out your phone to check the time, 11:23 PM, okay maybe it was more than just two hours, then quickly pocketing your phone. Didn’t Soomin say the delivery was supposed to be made in the afternoon? It was about that time. You stretched before making your way to the main store. There were a few customers roaming the small shop, probably choosing flowers for a custom bouquet.

“ Hey (Y/n) can you make the delivery? Hyun is out today. The address is with the daisies” Soomin asked, reading over what you assumed was the inventory list.

“Sure thing,” You quickly replied before leaving to load the van with the flowers. “Kay, I'm heading out” You called to her, grabbing the delivery clipboard and heading.

“Be safe,” She waved at you. And you smiled in return.

‘Wow’ you thought as you looked at the mansion, which seemed more like a castel. They had an extensive front lawn, well manicured, neat hedges and bushes. And was probably bigger than a football field. Sure, you had seen your fair share of rich people houses. But this was just on another level. The front gates were large iron bars that bent to make beautiful floral designs, and two large pillars that supported the gates.

The house was beautiful, four large columns supported roman style columns supported a roof. Wide carrara marble steps that lead to large sierra double doors. You hesitantly climbed up the steps, reaching for the small doorbell. You rung the doorbell, somewhat nervous, the exquisite mansion making you feel smaller than any human being ever had. This whole place, basically calling you poor.

Tapping your foot on the ground, you impatiently waiting for someone anyone to pick up the flowers. You had rung the doorbell twice now and there was still no answer. They had to have known you were coming as the front gates were left open...right? And just as you let out another sigh, you heard a loud scream and glass breaking from inside the house.

BANG BANG

‘Gunshots!?’ Ducking on instinct, you covered your ears as loud bang’s echo throughout the property, only now there were more than a few guns firing. Loud cries and curses came from beyond the sierra doors.

Finally gathering your barings, you beelined to the van, hurrying to get out of there, when the doors burst open and a man groaning and grasping at his bleeding shoulder fell to the ground, and you saw what was going on inside. People in black suits, crouching behind large objects and holding up guns.

“Who the fuck are you?!” The man who came barreling out the door yelled. At his loud cries, a man from within turned to your direction.

“Shit, she saw. Kill her!” He yelled before a bullet narrowly missed his head. Eyes widening at his words as you tried again to rush to the van, when a grip on your right ankle nearly tripped you. “You’re not going anywhere, god damn it!”

You tried using your other foot to kick yourself free from his grasp, but he roughly pulled at your ankle making you fall. You tried to stay as calm as possible you scrambled to get up on your feet, until you felt a hand on the base of your neck pull you towards the door.

You frantically tried to free yourself from his grasp, clawing at his hand, trying to kick your foot. But the man was on you left, and your legs wouldn’t reach so far left. As he dragged you inside, you took one more breath before grabbing the arm that was holding you with you left hand, then turning sharply, reaching with your right for the back of his neck and kneeing him in the stomach until he let you go.

As he fell to his knees clutching at his stomach, you axe kicked him, his head crushed onto the beautiful marble floor, knocking him out. A gunshot behind you brought you back to reality.

You turned and saw a man aiming his gun at you. You tried to move but your brain was processing faster than your body. Closing your eyes expecting you doom, but instead to be tackled onto the ground. You gasped and tried to push whoever it was that tackeled you off and scramble away from them, but hands grabbed at your waist and pulled you behind the bar counter. He had chocolate brown hair, and hazel eyes. His wore a black suit that had been bloodied and drenched in sweat.

“Who hell are you?!” He asked breathless, “What’re you doing here?!”

“Flowers!” you gasped, “I’m here to deliver flowers!”

His eyes widened in remembrance. Right they were supposed to have flowers delivered today.

“Stay here, and don’t move! Understand?!” You nodded, breath ragged as you eyed the young male. He tried peering from the above the hiding spot, then cursed dashing out from the behind the counter.

You brought your knees to your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible. It was strange, you were terrified but calm. Anyone would be in tears by now in your situation. But now wasn’t the time for that, right now you needed to focus on not getting shot.

Moments passed and the number of guns being fired were dwindling. Until a man stepped beside you, his focus was at the people shooting at him. But he wasn’t alone, he had someone at gunpoint, it was the same guy who told you to stay here, and the two slowly backed away.

“Let him go Haewon, you’re done” A voice came from behind you, behind the counter. So this guy was the last of them. Out of nowhere you felt a brashness you had never felt before. Adrenaline bubbling.

You grabbed hold of the tall vase that was in front of you, clutching it to your chest, you could feel your heartbeat in your hand, you took a deep breath.

Standing as fast as you could, you smash the vase into the man's head. The man lets go of his hostage and crashes onto the floor, unconscious. You put the surprisingly unbroken vase on the counter, then breathe in deeply, trying to get your erratic breath under control.

One of your hands was on your hip as you hunched, taking a final deep breath, before looking up. To be greeted to the sight of men with stunned expressions, pointing their guns at you.

“Who the hell are you?!” one yelled. Oh this was getting old, you breath out, your head slightly hanging.

“Hyung, the flowers. Remember the flowers we ordered.” The brunette that saved you life breathed.

“Guk step away from her,” A tallest of them, with syrup brown hair exclaimed, still holding the gun at you. You slowly raised your hand so as to not make any sudden movements, and to show you did not have weapons, and that at the moment you could in no way, do them any harm.

“It’s like he said, I was here to deliver daisies, roses, white lillies, and asters from the Kabloom flower shop,” You said in a steady voice. Heart hammering in your ribcage.

“And we should believe you because?” A man with silver platinum hair asked, voice strained. His hand gingerly holding his shoulder, leaning against one of the sofas.

“Is the van standing outside proof enough?” You answered with a question, sighing you continued, “You can call the shop and ask them.”

The short one with silver platinum blonde hair fell to his knees.

“Jimin!”

“Hyung!”

You lurched forward on instinct, naturally making a mental list of supplies you would need. So his name was Jimin. ‘This isn’t a time for names, we can worry about that later,’ you chide yourself, shaking your head back into focus.

But just as you stepped forward,you were stopped where you stood.

“Stop right there! And don’t move!” One of them said, threateningly pointing his gun at you. All the men around rushing to Jimin. But you were intently focused on the one on his knees. How long had he been bleeding for? This wasn’t good, at this rate he would bleed to death.

Two men, the one that saved you and another red headed one supported Jimin by the arms. ‘No don’t do that, you have to stop the bleeding, gauze, alcohol, tape, tweezer’ that was the bare minimum you would need, you bit your lip as you thoughts raced.

“How long has he been bleeding?” You asked, stepping towards the huddle of people.

“ Stay right where you are!” Nostriles flaring as you breath through your nose. Anger gradually bubbling within as you were being kept from helping a patient.

“Okay! Listen here, it takes less than ten minutes for an average human being to bleed to death after a gunshot wound. So unless you want your friend to bleed to death, Let me help him?!” You said, tone expasrated but still firm, getting a little louder as you spoke. The men nervously looked at each other.

“And you would know because”

“Let. me. help” You said worriedly, stressing each syllable, looking at the man on the floor further pailing, as he tried to brush off the other. Probably telling them he was fine.

“And what exactly makes you think we would trust you,” A shorter male with light brown hair, and wore a navy blue suit exclaimed. You understood they didn’t trust you but that guy was bleeding to death.

“Look, I am trying to help! Your friend is bleeding out as we speak一” But you were cut off as said injured male collapses. The men around him worriedly call his name, panic in their eyes. Nervouseness hitting gull swing, if they would just一

“Can you really help him?” The tallest one of them asks.

“Yes,” You replied, fidgeting as you thought of just in case alternatives you could use for some of the supplies, if they didn’t have them.

“Then please help him’’ You exhaled loudly and stepped forward, but stopped when he spoke up again, his voice threatening,“BUT, we’re gonna be watching. You make one fishy move and we shoot you on the spot.”

“Fine,” You gulped, quickly making your way to the platinum blonde on the ground.

“Gauze, alcohol, surgical thread, sterile needle, tweezers, um...um lidocaine, and tape,” You recited your mental list as you pressed your hands onto Jimin’s shoulder, trying to slow the bleeding.

“Well help him!” Guk? Stange name, cried, throwing his arms in the air.

“I can’t just do that here. We aren’t in some movie where you just rub some alcohol on and wrap the wound up and you’re done. We’re gonna need an operation room, and surgical thread, his bones don’t seem broken, but we still need a lot of stuff,” You replied to them as cooly as possible.

“Alright then let's take him to an operation room. We should have everything you just said, there. Jeongguk, carry him,” The tallest one commanded, his eyes moving throughout the room. His mind seemed to be running a mile a minute. And Jeongguk, effortlessly hoisted Jimin into a bridal carry. And walked to the winding staircase that was along the wall facing the door.

“You have an operation room?” You asked, amazed, rushing after them up the staircase.

“Which door?” Jeongguk asked.

“The doctor's room, Guk,” The tallest of the bunch answered. And you felt yourself relax a little hearing the childish yet adorable name for the sterile room.

You were surprised to say the least when you saw the room. Eyes wide as you take in the room that was almost identical to an OR, only this place had cupboards along the right wall. The lights and monitors and everything. You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Jimin being placed onto the table. There were too many people in the room.

“There were too many people in this room, you can’t all stay here.” You ran your eyes through the cupboards, searching for things you needed.

“Like hell we’re leaving him with you一” One of the men at the back exclaimed.

“Please” You pleaded, placing the alcohol you had found on one of the tables.

“Yoongi, Jeongguk, and Seokjin stay in the room, everyone else go clean things up,” It was the one who had let you work on Jimin again.

“But, Namjoon一”

“Hoseok please,”

“Fine, alright you lot get out,”

“Thank you,” Namjoon gratefully said to the men as they turned to step out.

They were having their moment, but you were focused on finding what you needed to listen in. And astonishingly, they not only had surgical thread but also, dissolving thread. Anesthesia was out of the question, you didn’t have enough knowledge about it and you doubted any of them were anesthesiologists. And they didn’t have lidocaine injection, which numbed the wound and was a much safer option. But you weren’t too surprised, though that also meant you had to do this with Jimin still conscious, or could come to consciousness mid procedure.

Okay, you didn’t have a lot of time. You needed to do this and you needed to do this fast.

“Wait, some of you might have to stay after all,” You said before all of them could leave.

“Why? Nevermind, how many should stay?” Namjoon looked at you, alerting further at your words.

“Four maybe five, depending on how strong he is. There’s no anesthetic so we need to hold him down in case he moves mid procedure” You answered both questions as you washed your hands as furiously and as fast as you could. You were running out of time, you didn’t have time for proper protocol. You put on clean gloves then hurry back to the table. When you returned there were five men standing around the table.

“Okay hold down his legs, arms and torso,” You instructed them as you put on the surgical mask you had found.

“This is gonna hurt a lot. So he’ll thrash around, if he moves too much I may end up hurting more than helping. So hold him down tight.” You looked at each man with calm eyes, and began removal.

Jimin did wake up mid procedure and he did thrash around quite a bit, but Namjoon managed to somehow talk to him. After that he was as still as he could be with you digging around his shoulder. Eventually he passed out again from the pain. You didn’t have time to hook him up to the monitors, so you had Namjoon constantly keeping track of Jimin’s pulse. You told him to inform you immediately if he felt any changes. You found the bullet rather quickly, and neatly sutured the wound. Once all sutures were in place, you cleaned the new neatly stitched wound and bandaged his shoulder. After bandages were in place you took his pulse one last time to make sure everything was fine. You still needed to look for a stethoscope but after all that you just didn’t have the energy for that right then.

Heaving a relieved sigh you eased away from the table and towards the sink to wash off all the blood. You peered behind your shoulder to see what the others were doing, and their expressions were still twisted with worry. You smiled as you saw how worried they were for him. They weren’t bad people, just worried for their friend. If anything they looked kind as they watched their friend rest. But you still feared the future to come as you thought back to the prior events. The shoot out, the guns, those people, you had an idea of what was going on. And an idea how they afforded to live in such a lavish mansion. You wiped your hands with paper towels as you explained Jimin’s situation.

“He’s out of the woods for now but we’ll have to monitor him twenty-four-seven for the next few days. His wound will have to be cleaned and his bandages will have to be changed twice a day. We can move him to a more comfortable room but you’ll have to be super gentle. We should get him pain medication too, lucky no bones were broken, but He’ll still be in a lot of pain. He’s also lost a lot of blood, and foods such as lean red meat, poultry, fish, leafy green vegetables, brown rice, lentils and beans can all boost haemoglobin. Vitamin C helps with iron absorption, so to get the most from the food you eat, so make sure he drinks a glass of vitamin C-rich fruit juice with his meals. I recommend pomegranate just the fruit or juice, whichever he prefers”

All five men seem to release a breath of relief as they heard you talk. Their shoulders slumping, finally relaxing. You watched with a smile before your eyes widened as you realized. You had been so focused on Jimin that you forgot about everyone else that had been injured. You jumped at the realization. The abrupt movement startled the men, and all jumped into an alert.

“Is anyone else injured, bleeding, hurt? No wound is too small,” You said, looking at each man as they sighed and relaxed their shoulders. The men looked at each other before looking back at you.

“We’re fine but some of the men outside maybe,” Namjoon said, pointing towards the door.A questioning brow rose on his face as he saw your eyes narrow.

“Is that right? So the red stain on your shoulder is part of the outfit then,” You hummed. To which no answer came. “Thought so,” You coasted towards him, picking up the alcohol and left over gauze from the table along the way. You firmly instructed Namjoon to take off his blazer and shirt, which he refused...at first. As he continued to deny your help you stared him straight in the eyes and repeated your instruction.

He caved the second time around, removing his blazer and shirt. The other four attempting and failing to hide their grins and giggles. You dressed his wounds in record time before asking once more, “Is anyone else hurt?” They all shook their heads no. You sighed, the hard way it is.

“Jeongguk can I see your foot?” you asked, scuffled to the cupboards to get the arnica cream you had seen earlier. You returned quickly, sitting on the floor before looking at Jeongguk expectantly. He wore an uncomfortable expression, good. He was gonna cave.

He hesitantly gave you his left foot, “Your other foot,”

“It’s nothing really, there's nothing there,” He stammered out.

“Well then let me see your foot,” You said passively. He caved after thirty seconds of continuous eye contact. You smiled softly and applied the arnica cream on the deep purple bruise above his ankle.

“Arnica, it's a cream that helps with bruising. Looks pretty deep, you might feel tender tomorrow. Take it easy and apply this cream three times a day, and the bruise should get better faster,” Words thoughtlessly escaped your lips as you finished applying his cream.

“Ahem一” Namjoon coughed to get your attention, “一So thank you for you help. And I apologize for what happened earlier, we were all just worried. But I’m afraid we can’t let you leave.”

You smiled, sighing, “I figured as much. After all I’ve seen, I have a pretty good understanding of what your...job. Don’t worry I won’t try to run away or anything, I know it will only make my situation worse,” Getting up you headed to the drawers, collecting bandages and tape, then returning to the table for the alcohol bottle, and struggling as you did, there being too much to carry. “And if you want to apologize, help me dress everyone’s wounds.”

“You’re awfully calm for someone in your situation, you have Stockholm syndrome or something?” Seokjin laughed, kicking himself off the wall he was leaning on and taking the alcohol bottle from your hands.

“Well, will me panicking and screaming about the situation make it any better?” You chuckled softly, making your way to the door.

“Touche” He laughed softly.

“But一” Yoongi interrupted, asking the question that was on everyone's mind, “Tell me something why are you doing this? Why are you treating our wounds?”

“Well, there’s a simple explanation really,” You tilted your head. Which the men couldn’t help but compare to a puppy.

“And what explanation would that be?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

“I was just hoping that if I made myself useful, you don’t kill me, and preferebly feed me too,” You answered simply.

“That's it?”

“I’d say that’s a pretty reasonable reason.” You lips stretched into a smile.

Yoongie looked incredusely at your answer, which seemed to be a common reaction to your words so far. That was honestly your thought process, you thought if you could make use of your skills, they would hold off on killing you, or decide to keep you alive all together. You knew the minute you saw what you did you couldn’t escape this. And the only escape you would find would probably be death.

But there was a strange feeling resonating deep within you. And you knew what it was. It was a feeling you should not be feeling in the situation you were in, it was thrill. You were excited to be where you were. It was terrifying but you liked the adrenealine rush that had felt. Was it wrong of you to feel that? A tinge of excitement when most people would feel dread. These men, judging by their demeanor were most likely forced into this life.

And you felt guilty for feeling this excitement when you shouldn’t be, these men must have suffered much in their lifetime. And would probably give an arm and a leg to get out of this life, and here you were excited for what would happen next.

Your chain of thought was broken when you saw movement in front of you. Jeongguk carrying Jimin in his arms. Ah they were moving him, and it seems like everyone was going together. You stepped aside to let them pass, and followed them. Out the door, down the corridor, they banked left and down another tall, long corridor.

“I’m assuming we’re headed to his room?” You asked, walking next to Seokjin, still holding the bandages.

“You assumed correctly,” He answered, “His room is in the east wing, right down the hall actually.”

You walked down the hall in silence, aside from slight groans of pain some of the men. Which you registered for later, but perhaps it would be best not to push you luck with them. If you bothered them too much they might just kill you because you were annoying them. Eyes on the floor, you let your thoughts drift.

But your mind didn’t get to wander long as everyone stopped, you raised your head, taking in your surroundings. The door were large white double doors, they were doors you would see in a palace or castle. There was a large window at the end of the hallway and flowers in vases every few doors. There was clearly a color scheme, blues, whites, and beiges, and seemed like marble was a common occurrence throughout the house, well mansion.

Wait, flowers, flowers! You were here to deliver flowers! What time was it? Soomin must be worried. Your hands were full you couldn’t couldn’t pull out your phone, no clocks in sight. And you didn’t really feel like asking anyone right now. You thought of ways you would apologize to Soomin as the men opened the doors and walked in.

The room was huge, probably bigger than your apartment, then again your apartment was more of a studio with a bathroom, but a very cozy studio. And the ceiling was high and the color scheme seemed to bleed into this room. There was a large rectangular rug on the floor. It looked so soft, and so expensive. There was a window of the far left wall. And a window bench underneath it, fluffy pillows decorating it. There was a painting on the wall, a medaow. The room was neat, aside from some papers lying around the floor. The room was well lit from the natural light coming in through those ginormous windows. But getting a good look at the room it was simplistic. And said a lot about Jimin as a person.

Lots of soft colors and soft, fluffy things, he must be a gentle person...well maybe. Then your eyes landed on the cabinet along the wall that connected to the bathroom. A built-in liquor shelf, so he drank, no...a conisure? From what they eye could see, none of the bottles were empty. No ash trays, did he not smoke? Or was it just put away.

A small bookshelf next the liquor shelf. An armchair and a small, hickory brown table by the books. Which was surrounded by white sofa set, with beige pillows.

Your eyes roamed the beautiful room, you couldn’t help it. You’d never seen a room this luxurious, except in movies and films. ‘I think I finally understand what writers were try to describe.’ You thought as you let your eyes return to the people whom you entered the room with.

Jeongguk gently placed Jimin in the large king size bed. Lined with white and baby blue sheets. Namjoon pulles the blanket onto Jimin tucking him in, a dimpled smile stretching across his face. The sight was endearing, they took care of each other as though they were brothers...were they brothers? Jimin now laying on his bed still wore an expression of pain. It was a bullet sound of course it hurt.

You placed the bandages in your arms on the table that was right next to the door. And quickly pulled out your phone, it read ‘4:30 PM’. You had left around 11:30 AM and now it was 4:30 PM, you had been gone for nearly five hours. The van! You needed to return the van!

“Hey you guys一” The men looked to you, “一I need to return the van, and check in my boss.”

“I’m sorry but we can’t let you leave,” Namjoon shook his head.

“Okay, easy solution, can someone else drop it off at the store?” You asked with urgency in your voice. Hyejin had done so much for you, you didn’t want to make her worry, plus it was her van.

“Well, I guess we could do that,” Namjoon shifted his weight to his other leg, “What’s the address?”

“Just go down the rich people avenue, you’ll find Kabloom flower shop along it,” Jeongguk snorted at you directions, his hands on his lips as he stifled a laugh. An amused smile played at Yoongi’s lips and a simple smile stretched across Namjoon’s face.

“Or… the address is on the van,” You chuckled with them.

“Rich people avenue? Really?” Yoongi chortled.

“What? Its true.” You said, stretching the what into something more of a whine. All of them looked much more relaxed now, Even Yoongi, who was the most suspicious of you, laughed at that.

“But一” Jeongguk piped in, “一we looked over something kind of important,” Important? What had you missed? Your forehead scrunched, head tilting in question. Jeongguk gave a short laugh when he saw your confused expression.

“Your name. We don’t know your name?” He asked, light-heartedly. Ah, looks like the finer details were missed.

“Ah right, My name is (L/n) (Y/n), but please call me (Y/n),” You smiled, making sure not to forget that the van still needed to get to the store.

“Well (Y/n), tell me something, who are you exactly?” Seokjin questioned, his tone wasn’t threatening, but the way he worded the question had you on alert. “I mean, with all that stuff about vitamin-C and hemoglobin, and I saw how you worked on his wound, and you knew what you were doing, one would think you were a doctor or something,”

“That’s cuz I am a doctor, well I never finished my residency, so I’m not an official doctor but I do have a PhD,” You shrugged, you didn’t mean to hide it, besides it wasn’t like it was a secret.

“That’s not possible, you’re too young to be a doctor,” Yoongi commented in disbelief. You didn’t look old enough to be a qualified doctor, you looked no older than twenty-four, twenty-six at most.

“I was in an accelerated program, so I graduated high school early, plus I never finished my residency, so again, I’m not an official doctor,” You played with the edges of bandages.

“Wait, wait how old are you?” Yoongi asked, still perplexed.

“Twenty-four,” You looked up, only to be met with five confused men.

A still confused Seokjin asks, “Then why is someone with a PhD delivering flowers? Is it like a side job? Or did you just not like being a doctor?”

“I… have my reasons…” You trailed off, and they saw your expression somber, and understood not to push the subject.

“Alright (Y/n), we’ll have the van sent back to your store,” Namjoon smiled at you, he appeared to be much more relaxed like he trusted you… to some degree. You were grateful they were doing this for you. But there was something you needed to get from your house, for one, if you were going to be staying here then you would have liked to get some clothes, and more than that you needed to get someone from your apartment. As you thought the cluster had broken off into two and three person groups.

Namjoon and Seokjin were talking amongst themselves, wearing serious expressions, probably talking about all that had happened today. Yoongi, Jeongguk and Hoseok were chatting with each other. They held lighter air to them.

“I just had one more thing,” attention reverted to you, “I need to get something from my apartment, and I need to go get it,”

“We’ll just bring it to yo一” You cut Namjoon off.

“I’m sorry but I have to go, you guys can come with me but, I have to go” You declared firmly. It wasn’t something you could just grab and go.

“Why?” Namjoon frowned, confused as to why you had to be there.

“I have to go because what I need to get isn’t a something it's a someone, I need to get my dog, and you can’t go alone because my dog is special,” You exasperated, your shoulders slightly slumping.

“And how is your dog special?” Yoongi inquired.

“Well my dog isn’t just a dog, she’s a wolf dog, and she’s more wolf than dog, and I don't think she'll appreciate strangers in her home trying to grab at her. And More than that I’m afraid she might end up attacking you, and you guys end up shooting her,” You sighed.

Namjoon nodded, understanding the situation. “Alright but it will have to wait till?”

“Yes,” You replied, knowing this must be just as stressful to them as it was for you. And your pupper would be fine without you for one night, she should be tied down for tonight with the whole chicken you left her.

“Okay一” Namjoon sighed, “一 so (Y/n), you said we had to monitor him, right?” You nodded. “You and Jeongguk stay with Jimin, while we’ll deal with the mess outside,” You bobbed your head in understanding, as the rest of them poured out of the room. And seeing as Seokjin grabbed the bandages on the table, you assumed he would take care of the injured.

“Well, I guess it’s just us now,” You smiled at Jeongguk. To which he returned one of his own. His face scrunched as he did, he had a bunny smile. ‘How cute’ You thought, taking a seat on the floor, next to Jimin. But there was a rug underneath, that honestly felt more like a cushion.

“So you have a dog?” He inquired intrigued.

“Yeah, her name’s Shelty,” Jeongguk nooded as you thought about your adorable puppy.

“And she’s a wolf dog?”

“Yeah, a german shepard, wolf hybrid. But I’m not sure what kind of wolf,” You said, thoughtfully.

“You know I had a pet fish once,” He began.

By the time you had realized how much time had passed, the sun had set. When had you turned the lights on? The day seemed to have melted away talking to Jeongguk. You found out a lot of things about this group. He was one of the seven founding members. And that one of them was out right now. That he was the youngest of the seven, about how they would sometimes eat so much someone threw up, and that they weren’t actually blood related but were as close as brothers.

And you listened and imputed comments when you thought necessary. But there was a common theme in his topics, it was his hyungs. He somehow always returned to his elder brothers, you couldn’t help the smile that made its way on your face . He was a good kid, sweet and caring. And judging by how his eyes softened and that gentle smile that you saw on his face. You could tell how much he loved his brothers. You couldn’t help but wonder, how had he ended up as a mafioso.

“Gebus, it’s late, where did the time go?” You stretched your arms, then got up and stretched your legs.

“Thank you (Y/n), for listening to me,” He says, looking at his lap, then up to you, “With my kinda job you don’t really talk much about anything besides business...so this was nice. So thank you,”He smiled. Oh it was his bunny smile again, you were going to melt. Too late, you melted.

“I liked talking to you too, Jeongguk,” You eyes softened and you grinned, as you ruffle his hair. He let out a noise of protest before the door opened behind you.

“We brought food!” Hoseok entered, beaming. White plastic bags in hands. He was followed by Namjoon and Seokjin, and Yoongi entered a little later, clutching: wine, whiskey, and soda.

“I get fed,” You cheered, as you laughed with the five men.

“Yes, yes you do (Y/n),” Namjoon chuckled, placing the bags of food he held on the coffee table. Hoseok, doing the same, opening the chinese take out boxes and throwing the bag somewhere in the room.

“I for one think I’d be pretty rude to not feed the person that saved our boss,” Seokjin concludes with a smile. “Well then, come on, eat!” He waves his hand to invite you to sit with them. You playfully roll your eyes and scuffle to an open seat.

“I’m surprised you’re letting me sit here and eat, not to mention with you guys,” You thanked Seokjin as he handed you a plate of food.

“Well, you cooperating and not screaming at us helped your case, though I would understand why you would,” Namjoon said, reaching for a plate. You hummed at his answer as you ate your stir fried noodles.

“(Y/n) what drink do you want?” Jeongguk asked, pulling out lowball whiskey glasses from the built-in cupboard, beside the liquor shelf.

“Hmm just coke please,” He nodded and poured coke into a lowball glass, then handed it to you, as you thanked him.

“No alcohol? Why cuz it’s bad for you?” Yoongi laughed, softly throwing his back.

“I for one recall being on montering duty, and I can’t exactly do that drunk now can I?” You laughed.

“True, true,” Yoongi said, sipping his whiskey.

Dinner went by just as fast, you made small talk with Seokjin. Favourite food, favourite animal, surface level question. During that small talk you learned some interesting things. Turns out Seokjin or Jin as he went by, was the only one with any skills in the kitchen. He told you stories of mishaps that occurred in the kitchen, complaining about the guy’s culinary skills, or their lack of said skills. Jeongguk protested, refuting Jin's claims, only to be silenced with tales of the tin foil in the microwave incident.

You helped Jin and Hoseok clean up the area, gathering all the empty boxes in a plastic bag and handing them to Hoseok, who volunteered to take out the trash. All five men had decided to stay in Jimin’s room tonight. You chuckled because you thought it was because they didn’t trust you. But thinking more about it, it was probably for you than for Jimin. Considering he didn’t know about you. And you doubted he remembered anything from the surgery.

Jin turned off the lights, to your surprise, a lot could happen in the darkness. He waved you off simply saying it was so Jimin wouldn’t wake up. But you knew the actual reason for the lights being out. Everyone was tired, and the yawn Namjoon let out, proved that point. Jin must’ve wanted everyone to get some rest, it was probably going to be a hectic day tomorrow. You gave an understanding nod, before going back to your original stop on the floor beside Jimin. This time however, Jin sat next to you instead of Jeongguk, who sat at the sofa with Hoseok and Yoongi.

And sure enough, one by one most of the men had dozed off, lulled to sleep by the quiet darkness. Even Jin had nodded off, you smiled at them. You wondered if there were any extra blankets around, you looked about the room, not you could see anything. But knew better than to just get up and search for blankets. So you sighed and nudged Jin. Who gasped awake, hand reaching for his concelead gun.

“Hey, it's just me,” You whispered.

“(Y/n) what? What happened?” He asked, still dazed from sleep.

“Blankets, are there any extra blankets? Looks like nearly everyone’s asleep” You said softly, as to not wake anyone.

“No, I’m not,” Jeongguk’s mischievous piped.

“Well, almost everyone,” You rolled your eyes in a playful manner.

Jin smiled at your words, not that you could see in the darkness. He got up yawning and stretched. Then left the room to fetch the blankets.

Sensing the question from the youngest mafioso, you answered before he could ask, “I just wanted everyone to be comfortable, we all need blankets at night no matter what you say. Besides I wasn’t gonna risk searching around for blankets in the dead of night only for you guys to shoot me for snooping around,” Jeongguk gave a short laugh

Jin was having trouble carrying multiple blankets. You let him in and placed one of the blankets on Yoongi and gave one to Jeongguk, who accepted it happily. As he placed one on Namjoon and Hoseok. You had returned to your spot when Jin handed you a blanket as well. Turned out he got one for you too, which you took gratefully.

Minutes passed and the moon had completely risen, the moonlight pouring through the tall windows, you had much better vision now. You took Jimin’s wrist and took his pulse just in case. Pulse was steady and everything seemed normal. You placed his wrist on the bed and sighed, at this point Jin had dozed off again, but weren’t too sure of Jeongguk.

You sighed, your head resting on your palms as you continued your monitoring. You blinked as you took in Jimin’s features. He was pretty, well, handsome. Flawless skin, plump, soft lips. And he had a peaceful expression as he slept. His silver locks seemed to have this strange luster in the moonlight. He really was beautiful, like an angel.

Before you knew what you were doing, your hand had moved to brush his hair off his face. When your fingertips made contact with his forehead, you felt his skin, and he was burning up. Your stomach twisting, you fully placed your hands on his forehead. He had a fever, now that you were looking properly he wore an expression of discomfort. It wasn’t unusual for people to get fevers after surgery, but you had to get it under control. How had you not noticed this?

“Jeongguk, you up?” you questioned quietly, trying not to disturbe everyone, you stood. Your sudden movements seemed to have Jin awake again.

“Yeah, why? What happened noona?” He replied quickly sitting up.

“Wha? What's going on?” Jin asked, still half asleep.

“Jimin has a fever, I need a thermometer, a cold compress, and a fever medication, tylenol, Advil either will do,” You said, a hand on your hip, turning on the lights.

Jeongguk sprung into action, dashing out the door with an ‘I’ll get it”. Which seemed to have woken everyone else up. All of them with sleepy confusion written on their face.

“Will he be okay?” Concern lacing Jin’s voice.

“Fever after surgery isn’t unusual, his body has been through a lot, we’ll give him some medication and a cold compress. Then we’ll watch his fever. Okay?” You give a reassuring smile. Jin nods.

“Here! (Y/n) I got everything you asked.” Jeongguk burst into the room, materials in hand. You quickly thanked him, placing the cool ice pack on Jimin’s forehead. His features, relaxed at the feeling of the cool ice pack. You gently opened Jimin’s mouth and placed the thermometer under his tongue. Letting him rest for a while, as you waited for the thermometer to beep. But now that you were thinking about it, he was going to have to eat something before taking any kind of medicine. You bit your lip, not really wanting to have to wake him up.

BEEP BEEP

The thermometer beeped, and you gently pulled it out. 101 degrees, okay a low-grade fever. So it wasn’t too serious. You decided it would be best to wait a few minutes, if the fever went down great, if not he needed the medecine. And the cold compress seemed to have been enough.

You took Jimin’s temperature again, and smiled at the result, 99 degrees fahrenheit. Good the fever went down. You sighed in relief, “The fever broke, we’re all clear, we won’t even need the medicine”

Everyone heaved a relieved breath, Jeongguk coming to sit on the rug next to where you sat on the bed. Namjoon and Yoongi relaxed where they sat, and Hoseok had a hand over his face. Jin sat down behind Jeongguk. And the lights turned back off.

You took your seat back on the rug, next to Jimin. You reached for Jimin’s wrist one more time, this time not to take his pulse. You just played with his fingers, tracing small scars you felt on his hand, you didn’t know why, but you felt this inexplicable need to be in some sort of physical contact. You rested your head on the bed, and the fatigue of the day hitting you like a truck. ‘No I can’t fall asleep,’ were your last thoughts as everything fell to darkness.

#Jimin #Jimin x reader #Jiminxreader #park jimin #Park Jimin x reader #Mafia au #Mafia Boss Jimin x reader #Mafia jimin #mafia jungkook #Mafia Yoongi #violence #Doctor reader kind of #Purple Irises #badassreader #blood #Mafia boss jimin #BTS #Mafia BTS #bts mafia au

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jacquiesims · 4 years ago

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Viper Canyon - Chapter Seven

‘Elijah McLain turned over his shoulder to the wagon party members that had followed him to Viper Canyon.

“We’ll arrive in town soon. No longer than an hour’s ride, I’d say.”’

TW: Violence, Death

October 1852

Elijah McLain turned over his shoulder to the wagon party members that had followed him to Viper Canyon.

“We’ll arrive in town soon. No longer than an hour’s ride, I’d say.”

The three passengers that remained exchanged glances of relief. They were exhausted and starving – the journey had not been an easy one like the last. The party had seen illness, death, attacks from the natives, injured animals that Elijah was forced to put down, and worse.

Jacob and Alice Sawyer were siblings from Pennsylvania who had travelled westward with Jacob’s business partner, Harry Dunn. The two men had been barbers back east and Alice helped run the home they all had shared.

It seemed strange to Elijah that the three of them would come together to Viper Canyon, most men wanting to make a name for only themselves, but stranger things had happened. Most of the bachelors that Elijah escorted came by themselves but it wasn’t unheard for siblings to travel together.

And yet he was still thankful for the skills the men brought along with them – they’d treated Elijah to a haircut and the occasional shave on the trail, and even he had to admit that the prospect of a proper trim and clean shaven face by a trained hand was appealing. He wondered absentmindedly how long it would take for the men to open their barber shop.

Jacob, Alice, and Harry waved goodbye at Elijah as he forged on home, leaving the party behind at their selected plot of land.

He would be back to check on them, certainly, but at the moment, he was eager to get home and rest in a proper bed in a clean set of long johns.

Meanwhile…

The Yates Bank had been open on Main Street for two months exactly.

Mr. Yates, a benevolent man, had made his fortune several times over in foreign trade and decided to move westward with his family in hopes of enriching his coffers in a new economy. He had done just that – many who came across the country needed loans to see their visions of frontier life to fruition, and the Yates Bank had nearly made back its upfront costs of construction in interest already.

John Williams had finally settled into his position as teller at the bank. He’d tried his luck in the mines, but after several weeks with no luck he opted for the safer option of a salaried job under Mr. Yates and his son, who were both fair employers.

John smiled as a young woman came through the front door. The wind behind her carried in the subtle smell of her perfume and his heart skipped a beat. He was instantly struck by her beauty – he’d never seen her around Viper Canyon before, and he would’ve certainly remembered if he had.

“Good day, miss,” he said pleasantly. “How can I help you?”

The woman seemed to have not heard him. She looked around the lobby, eyes lingering on the expensive drapes and well-crafted furniture.

“Madam?”

She blinked her large brown eyes, finally turning towards John.

“Lovely waiting area,” she remarked flatly.

John’s brows knit together. “Yes. It is. Mr. Yates has very fine taste. Can I help you with something, ma’am?”

“Especially fond of the draperies,” she said, taking slow strides toward the teller’s desk. “Do you know who happened to make them?”

“Er…” John was confused, but he tried his best to oblige the woman. “I believe Mr. Yates had them commissioned from an interior designer in Aridia, miss.”

She scoffed.

“Is there anything I can help you with today? We provide loan and investment services, money conversions, and we have some lovely iron safes in the back for sale if you’d like to have one of your very own at home…”

“Well, what about the money?” She asked. “I’m interested in keeping my savings in this bank. They’re much safer here than at my home. Where do you keep it?”

John was relieved, glad the woman was actually interested in doing business. “Our money is kept on the top floor in an extremely secure vault, miss. Only Mr. Yates, his son, and I know the combination,” He added with pride.

“Lovely,” she said. “Could I see the vault?”

“Well,” John fidgeted, “We don’t really allow customers on the second floor unless they have a meeting with Mr. Yates, for security reasons, you see.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “I have to see the vault before I know if I want to keep my money here.”

John felt put on the spot. He’d been explicitly trained by Mr. Yates to never let someone up on the second floor unless he was expressly informed that the individual was allowed up there. But if he let the woman go without seeing the vault, then he would almost certainly lose her business. Surely Mr. Yates would praise him if he secured another customer for the bank – by the looks of her frock, she was well-off indeed.

“I’m sure a little peek won’t hurt,” John said with a smile. “Mr. Yates and Mr. Morris are out for the afternoon, and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. If you would follow me, miss.”

“Thank you,” the woman said gratefully, following John as he unlocked the door towards the back room.

John stood in front of the vault door.

“Here it is, ma’am. As you can see, it’s an absolute stronghold of security. No one is getting in here without the combination.”

The woman looked the door up and down. “There isn’t any security? No one watching the door?”

John waved his hand dismissively. “There’s no need, really. The vault door is state of the art. Mr. Yates had it brought all the way from New SimCity – and it cost a pretty penny, I might add. I assure you, this door can withstand a blast from dynamite, even!”

“Dynamite, you say?”

John beamed, turning towards the door and giving it a firm knock. “Yes, the manufacturers assured us – AH!”

He turned back around to see the woman brandishing a revolving pistol, the barrel pointed squarely in his face.

“Open it.”

“Miss! Is this really necessary?”

She sighed, growing impatient. “Open the damned door.” To make her point even more painfully clear, she pulled back the hammer of the gun with her thumb, resounding a sinister click.

Cold sweat began to pour down John’s pallid face.

“If you open the vault and let my men take what we like, I’ll spare your life. If you don’t, I’ll have to settle for…”

The woman swirled the gun around in her hand, making up her mind, before pointing it at the tip of John’s shoe.

“Making due with a few of your toes.”

John struggled to speak. “I…miss, please – I can’t…”

“I said open the door, you idiot!”

At the rage in her voice, John’s trembling hands opened the vault door. Horrible, icy guilt swept over him as the woman stepped inside, never letting the barrel of her gun stray.

“That’s more like it,” she smiled. “Nobody needs to get hurt. Just do as you’re told.”

They stood there for a moment, John trembling with fear, until he heard the door downstairs open and heavy feet rush into the waiting area.

“Fantastic work, Rose!”

John was suddenly in the company of several terrifying looking – yet cheerful – men. They began to fill their bags with all the cash and finery in the vault. The woman watched, hand steady as she kept John at gunpoint.

“Don’t take it all, boys,” she said. “Leave the people with a little.”

One of the men piped up. “Can I take the vase? It’d look lovely in the parlor, Rosie.”

“Oh, sure, love. Don’t get too greedy, though.”

John’s blood moved in his veins like slush as the men carried their bloated bags downstairs, leaving the vault nearly entirely empty. The woman’s eyes never left his pallid face.

“Jimmy?” She called.

The smallest of the men – if he could even be called a man, John thought he was more of a boy if anything – strolled over to his mistress.

“What do you need, Rose?”

She smirked. “Take care of this one for me, will you? You know how I feel about witnesses.”

“But-but!” John choked. “You said if opened the door!”

“Don’t be a fool,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “You really believed the word of an outlaw?”

The boy cracked his knuckles, looking at the cowering teller fiercely in the eyes. John’s gaze drew along the deep, dark scar that marred the boy’s face.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” He spat.

John tried to swallow the painful lump in his throat to no avail. “Nothing! I, er…”

“Ugly scar, ain’t it? Got it from a man…who kind of looked like you.”

“What’re you going to do to me?” John whimpered.

The boy grinned darkly. “I reckon I’ll strangle you with my bare hands. I like feeling the struggle.”

“Please!” John cried. “Please, don’t do this!”

The woman scoffed again. “Do you really want to spend the last moments of your life begging for mercy like a coward? You sad little man.”

James reached out with both hands, but before he could grab John’s neck, the man threw up his hands in surrender.

“Please, just shoot me,” he sobbed. “Let me die an easy death, please at least grant me that!”

The woman considered John for a moment. An odd expression crossed her face before she chuckled.

“A lady never dirties her own hands.” She nodded towards the dark-haired boy. “Jimmy.”

The boy grabbed John’s taut neck was a terrible force, tackling him to the ground. The teller thrashed horribly against the brick floor, choking for breath. Stars appeared in John’s eyes, he clawed at the boy’s hands for relief but his grip was like steel – blood vessels began to crack open in his eyes as his vision grew black and distorted.

Rose stood back and watched, sliding her pistol back into her skirts.

John’s body lay limp on the vault floor.

“Lovely work,” she said to the boy.

He stared at John’s unmoving corpse on the floor, expression unchanging.

The woman approached him from behind, resting a gentle hand on the boy’s back.

“Let’s get back home,” she said quietly.

The boy nodded and followed her out of the bank to the waiting getaway coach outside.

To Be Continued

Previous Chapter | Viper Canyon Index | Chapter Eight

(More characters introduced! There are so many...I know the plot seems a bit all over the place but things will all come full circle eventually. Thanks for reading!)

#ts2 #sims 2 #ts2 story #viper canyon story #Viper Canyon #viper canyon: chapter seven

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frostedfaves · 4 years ago

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To Build A Home (6)

Masterlist

Pairing: Rosa Diaz x fem!reader

Summary: Rosa spent years building a friendship, relationship, and eventually a marriage and home with you. This tale follows your journey together up until her sudden murder. Now that you’ve tracked down her killer before anyone else, will you do the right thing and send him to prison or take care of him yourself?

Warnings: brief mentions of a bomb threat, robbery, and alcohol use, poorly written detective work, Jake and Amy ignored on their own wedding day (I’m still so sorry faves)

A/N: this part doesn’t feature as much Rosa and wife interaction as the previous parts because I needed to set the scene for something that will come back later ;) but I hope you still enjoy it! feedback appreciated as always

Previous chapter here

Your eyes roamed around the small store after passing the crime scene tape, assessing a surprising lack of damage for a robbery. You didn’t expect the place to be trashed, but there was barely a sign of a struggle or anything taken in a hurry.

“Hi there.”

You turned to face a white man in his possible fifties, at least from what you could tell with the graying strands of hair and incoming wrinkles around the eyes. A hint of a smile was directed your way as he stretched out his hand.

“You must be the detective the cops told me was coming. I’m Mark Collins, the owner of this place.”

“Detective Y/N Diaz,” you introduced yourself before pulling out of the handshake. “So you said you were robbed. What happened?”

He quickly explained to you the events that took place, starting with firing an employee the night before and leading into his return this afternoon.

“I had a feeling Thomas would retaliate and I would’ve been prepared for him, but my sister brought her daughter by this morning and they’re both terrified of guns, so I hid it in the back. I have a license for it, by the way,” he added when your brows raised at him.

“Do you mind if we take a look at your security footage?”

You followed him into his office, watching as the same situation he described to you played out on camera. You sighed a bit when the armed man shouted his reason for taking the money, feeling that Mark owed it to him to help pay his rent since he didn’t give him time to find income elsewhere. Although you’ve felt the pain of suddenly losing your job before, it didn’t justify you or anyone taking money from someone else.

“Alright, I’m going to need a copy of that footage downloaded. I’ll come back for it later. I’m also going to need the address you have on file for Thomas so I can pay him a little visit.”

Twenty minutes later you pulled into a parking spot just down the block from the apartment building of your suspect. You’d just taken off your seatbelt after cutting the engine when your phone rang, a smile appearing on your features at the sight of your wife’s name and picture.

“Hey, baby,” you greeted cheerily as you locked the car doors again. “How’s the wedding day craziness going?”

“Even crazier than expected,” she told you with a sigh. “You’re not on your way yet, are you?”

“No, why?”

“Someone called in a bomb threat on the rec center, so that’s getting checked out while Jake, Amy and Charles try to figure out who did it. I’m waiting for Terry to call back the driver of the car that he left Amy’s veil in.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, so you weren’t kidding when you said ‘crazier than expected’.”

“I was not.” She chuckled along with you for a second. “So where are you?”

“I’m currently outside of where my suspect may or may not be. On the security footage you can hear him say he stole the money for rent since he doesn’t have a backup job but…” You let out a sigh of your own. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m giving him too much intelligence credit, but if I robbed the store I just got fired from, I wouldn’t go back to the address I gave my manager. Still going to give it a shot anyway.”

“Okay, well I won’t keep you on the phone much longer. Driver’s pulling up anyway. Be safe, and I love you.”

“Love you too, Rosa. See you later.”

You made your way up to the apartment quite easily as the lock on the secured door was broken. A knock went unanswered for several seconds. A second knock brought you face to face with a woman much younger than Mark.

“Detective Y/N Diaz,” you introduced yourself as you held up your badge for her to see.

“Jessica Moore,” she offered. “What’s this about?”

“I’m looking for Thomas Moore. Is he here?”

“He was, but you just missed him by about an hour.” She shrugged. “Tommy was sleeping on the couch for a while because his girlfriend kicked him out. He was only gone maybe half an hour before he came back saying he was headed home, packed up his stuff and left.”

“Do you know where this girlfriend lives?”

“No, sorry. I don’t even know her name! Every time I ask about her, he just tells me I’m asking too many questions, as if he doesn’t try to interrogate every guy I’ve been on a date with,” she grumbled off to the side with her arms crossed.

“I know the feeling,” you told her and she turned back to you with a hopeful smile.

“You have brothers too?”

“Nope, just familiar with men and their double standards.” You pulled a business card from your jacket pocket and gave it to her. “Call me if he shows up, and thanks for your cooperation.”

After gathering all the evidence you needed from the crime scene, you’d arrived at the precinct just in time to see Holt cleaning up what used to be a cake version of the Nakatomi Plaza. You had your questions, but you simply saved them for a moment when you weren’t completely focused on your case. Every single moment of the day, every conversation that didn’t come from the computer where you were studying surveillance footage was ignored.

“Yep, Terry fumbled the task. But we got you a bouquet.”

Your ears couldn’t help but tune in at the sound of Rosa’s voice, this moment being the first time you’d heard her in a few hours. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from your work until her hands gently landed on your shoulders, effectively melting the tension from them.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” You turned in your chair with a smile, which instantly fell as you caught sight of Amy in a wedding dress. “Please tell me I didn’t accidentally work through the wedding.”

“Jake, Amy, let’s go downstairs. It’s wedding time!” Charles addressed the pair with a proud grin and Rosa gave your shoulder a teasing nudge.

“Looks like you’re just in time. Come on.”

“But I do have some bad news. There’s a bomb at this wedding as well.”

“What?” The frown on Jake’s face matched yours, both of you confused by Amy’s calm demeanor.

“Your butt. Your butt is the bomb. There will be no survivors.”

“I love you so much. You’re my dream girl.”

Your laugh at the adorably childish pair was cut short when you realized Rosa was staring at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just missed you today.” She threw her right arm around your shoulders, gently pulling you in to lean against her and dropping a kiss on your hairline.

“I missed you too.” Your left hand grabbed hers, locking your fingers together in her lap, both of you smiling at the reciprocated skin-to-ring contact. Satisfied with the physical touch, you both turned your attention back to your nearly married best friends, brows raised as you watched a robot from the bomb squad bring the rings down the aisle.

You thanked Rosa as she placed two drinks on the table, sliding into the booth next to you and this time wrapping her left arm around you. You slipped your fingers through hers once more as they dangled over your shoulder, extending your thanks in the form of a quick kiss on the cheek.

“So how did it go earlier? I’m guessing by the way you were buried in your case that your suspect wasn’t stupid.”

“No, he wasn’t,” you sighed. “I found his sister, who told me that he’d left some time before I got there to go back home to his girlfriend. I can’t find any evidence of him having a girlfriend, but I have to wait until Monday to get a search warrant for the apartment. So I won’t know whether or not the sister was lying until then.”

“Well when you do find him, which I know you will, don’t forget to call me. I love watching my woman take down bad guys.” She winked and you laughed so hard you nearly snorted.

“What about you? How’d you end up with a shower curtain and flowers instead of a veil?” you asked after settling down, keeping your eyes on her as you sipped your drink.

“The customer after us knocked the dry cleaning bag out of the car when he left and we found it soaked in urine because, you know, New York streets are gross like that.”

She shuddered, her look of disgust shifting into adoration when you held her glass and straw up to her lips. As you returned it to the table, you caught sight of Jake and Amy gazing at each other like no one else existed within the walls of the bar.

“I’m so happy for them. I can’t believe our best friends are married.”

“I can,” she responded as she shifted even closer to you, her eyes landing on the pair. “They’re the perfect example of the ‘opposites attract’ concept. They’re going to grow old together.”

“It’s funny that you say that, because they think the same thing about us.”

She turned back to you, that specially reserved smile back on her lips as she took in your appearance. Using the arm around you, she guided your own lips close enough to leave a kiss on them that was far too short for your liking. She settled back into the booth again and picked up her drink, her eyes never once leaving yours.

“Let’s prove them right, then.”

Tags: @gaulty74 @creepingwolfberry @rosadiazswifey @milkfromhell @xetherealbeautyx @jay-is-groovy @marie-03

#to build a home #rosa diaz #rosa diaz x reader #rosa diaz imagine #rosa diaz x fem!reader #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine fic series #brooklyn nine nine x reader #b99 fic #b99 imagine #b99 fic series #b99 x reader #b99 fanfic #b99 #stephanie beatriz

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hysterialevi · 4 years ago

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His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 5

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

Previous chapter | Next chapter

This story is also on AO3

TWO DAYS LATER

AURORA BASIN

Making haste across the camp, Arthur strode over to Dutch’s cabin with an uneasy spring in his step as he joined his fellow gang members, his mind racing with incessant thoughts of doubt.

The Van der Lindes had spent the entirety of the previous night preparing for today’s robbery and equipped themselves with every possible weapon, completely armed to the teeth.

They were carrying shotguns, rifles, pistols, knives -- hell, even dynamite. Arthur had no earthly idea how they were supposed to sneak past all the lawmen while looking so conspicuous, but he assumed that Dutch would have some sort of “miracle” plan to work things out.

He always did.

“Alright, gentlemen,” Dutch announced, approaching his men as they waited outside the cabin. “Today’s the day. We’ve been plannin’ this robbery for a long time now, and I am well aware that there has been some skepticism...” he threw a glare at Arthur, “...about how this is going to work. But trust me -- we’ve been doin’ robberies like this for decades now. We was born and bred as outlaws. We live for jobs like this. This ain’t nothin’ new to us.”

Dutch held up a reassuring hand. “We are gonna be just fine. Just follow my lead, lie low, and don’t do anything stupid. Now, as for the plan...”

He gestured to two gang members. “Cleet and Joe are gonna stay behind to guard the camp while we’re away. They’re also gonna help pack things up since I do plan on movin’ once we’re finished in Blackwater.”

Arthur raised a question. “Where we going?”

“I don’t have an exact location yet,” Dutch answered, “but I’m thinkin’ of heading east. I’m not fond of civilization -- you know that -- but it’s clear to me now that this gang ain’t ready to run itself. If there’s anyone out there who can cure my illness, or postpone my death at the very least, it’s a chance I have to take. And I doubt we’re gonna find any fancy doctors over in New Austin.”

Micah joined in. “And what about the robbery?”

“Just keep your wits about you.” Dutch advised. “As you all know, there are many lawmen guarding this bank. According to Mackintosh, we can expect roughly a dozen. I don’t want any of you firin’ your guns unless absolutely necessary. Understand? Let’s try to keep this as quiet as possible, and as quick as possible.”

“Now, as for who’s doin’ what... Arthur, you focus on gettin’ the vault open. I don’t care how you do it. Whether you wanna beat the teller, or figure out the combination yourself, just make sure you don’t draw the law’s attention too quick. Micah and Bill, I’m countin’ on you two to keep any unruly customers at bay. We got enough to worry about as is. I don’t need any surprises. Shay, you be on the lookout for anyone that tries to stop us.”

“What d’you want us to do if somethin’ goes wrong?” Arthur asked. “Where should we meet?”

“If we get separated, head to Quaker’s Cove. It’s a jetty just south of Blackwater. But do not ride straight back to camp. We can’t risk leadin’ the law into the heart of our gang. Now... is everyone clear on the plan?”

The gang exchanged looks with each other, all of them nodding in agreement.

“I think we are, Dutch.” Shay replied.

The older man grinned deviously. “Then let’s goddamn do this.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

TALL TREES

Galloping through the forest at full speed, Dutch and his small army of men carved their way through the thick woods as they hurried to Blackwater, anxious to get this robbery over with.

Not only were they expecting to see heavy resistance at the bank, they also had to ride straight through Skinner Brother territory in order to reach it in the first place. And they weren’t exactly the type to cower in the shadows.

There were toppled stagecoaches lying on the side of the road, people hanging from trees, rotting horse carcasses leaned up against the rocks, and columns of black smoke just above the horizon that pinpointed their other camps throughout the region.

It was no wonder the Pinkertons took an interest in this place. Anybody who wandered into Tall Trees was essentially signing their own death warrant, and even the local law had been spooked away from this area.

Arthur just hoped they didn’t get roasted alive before they reached Blackwater. Dealing with a few cowboys who had badges slapped onto their coats was one thing, but these Skinner Brothers... they were no joke.

They were crazy, but clever. Wild, but organized. Nowhere to be seen, but everywhere at the same time. They had been targeting travelers and lawmen alike for years now, and Arthur doubted their gang would be any exception.

Unbeknownst to him however, there was another, much more urgent threat that awaited them in the forest.

And he was far more familiar with this one than he realized.

Holding his rifle close to his chest, Isaac attentively observed the gang from behind a boulder as they traveled along the narrow paths, completely oblivious to the man watching them from afar.

The young man had been waiting in the same spot for nearly two hours now and already set up a few traps in order to delay the gang’s return, but he didn’t plan on killing Mackintosh just yet.

He was surrounded by too many people. Too many obstacles. The Van der Lindes had a reputation of being some of the deadliest outlaws in the country, and Isaac knew damn well he wouldn’t be able to tackle all of them single-handedly.

If he was going to kill Mackintosh and escape West Elizabeth with his life, he’d have to eliminate the men protecting him first.

That was why he was going to poison their food.

Peering through the scope of his rifle, Isaac scanned the gang as they breezed past the trees, riding like a bunch of bats out of hell. At first glance, none of them seemed to stand out, but upon taking a closer look, Isaac suddenly spotted Mackintosh himself riding alongside another man.

“...There you are, you piece of shit...” He muttered under his breath, tempted to pull the trigger and be done with it.

But he couldn’t do it. Not yet.

Isaac wanted Shay to know who was coming after him, and he wanted his face to be the last thing that pathetic murderer ever saw... but he was going to do it right.

He didn’t spend fifteen years hunting Mackintosh down just to shoot him like a bird in the breeze. If Isaac was going to kill him, he’d do it in a way that neither of them would ever forget.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, the young man lowered his rifle and forced himself to stay back, allowing Mackintosh to ride away with the rest of the gang.

It pained Isaac to just let him slip out of his fingers like this, but if everything went according to plan these next few days, then he’d get his revenge sooner than he even knew it.

He just had to wait a little bit longer.

Standing up from the ground, Isaac tugged on his horse’s reins and led him through the woods, trying to stay as low as possible while he headed for the entrance to Aurora Basin.

“C’mon, Aldo...” he whispered, getting the poison ready. “We’re almost there.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

BANK OF BLACKWATER

Gathering near the edge of town, Dutch and his men all huddled up in a straight line as they observed the bank standing in the distance, their hearts pumping with adrenaline.

It didn’t look like anyone in Blackwater had taken an interest in their activities just yet, but considering the horses’ restless whinnies and the way they struggled in their bridles, a storm was on its way.

They’d have to move quick.

“There it is.” Dutch said, observing the tall building. “The Blackwater bank.”

He glanced side-to-side, checking on all his men. “...Are you boys ready?”

Micah rolled his shoulders. “Ready, Dutch.”

“Good. Then let’s--”

“--Hold up.” Arthur suddenly interrupted, gaining Dutch’s attention.

He furrowed his brow in confusion. “What is it?”

The other man narrowed his eyes ominously. “This don’t feel right...”

“What doesn’t?”

Arthur gestured to the bank’s entrance. “Look. There’s hardly anyone here. No guards, no Pinkertons, no local law...”

Dutch was already bored of his skepticism. “So...?”

“So, where the hell is everybody? When Shay and I were last here, we counted at least a dozen people. Ain’t no way they’d just leave the bank unguarded like this.”

Micah mimicked a snore. “Doubt, doubt, and more doubt. Do you ever stop worrying, Morgan?”

Arthur glared at him in annoyance. “I’m just tryin’ to keep what few people we have left alive, Bell. You wasn’t there when we scouted this place out. They had a goddamn army of lawmen protectin’ this bank.”

Shay jumped in. “It’s true. We saw a shit ton of men here, Dutch. It wasn’t pretty. If we stayed any longer, we woulda gotten caught.”

“And now...” Arthur continued, “they’ve all suddenly disappeared. On the same day of our robbery, no less. That can’t be a coincidence.”

Dutch shrugged casually. “Whether it’s coincidence or fate, I won’t complain. You was worried that we wouldn’t be able to find any openings, weren’t you, Arthur? Well, here it is. Now, put on your mask and set aside your worries. We’ve wasted long enough bickering about how we’re gonna rob this bank. I say it’s time we goddamn do it.”

Bill pulled his bandana up. “Right behind you, boss.”

Arthur let out an irritated sigh but followed Dutch’s actions nonetheless, preparing his pistol. “Fine. I’m with you. But I ain’t celebratin’ anytime soon.

Dutch dismounted his horse. “Then keep your gun close, and follow my lead. We have only one chance at this. Let’s not waste it.”

Prowling towards the bank like a pack of wolves, the entire gang steadily approached the front doors while keeping their eyes peeled at the same time, admittedly somewhat unnerved by Arthur’s observations.

Even though the two of them didn’t get along in the slightest, Micah couldn’t deny that he did find it a bit strange that no one was guarding the bank. Nobody outside the gang knew about their plans for the robbery -- except for the young man Micah spoke with -- and he was fairly certain that none of the other members had been in contact with the law.

If everything was at it seemed, then that meant the little rascal had gone behind Micah’s back and given the Pinkertons a tip about their next move. He was probably trying to buy himself some time by trapping them in Blackwater, and using the law as a way to delay their return.

...Goddammit, Micah cursed to himself. He was going strangle that boy if he ever saw him again.

“Alright, cowboys...” Dutch said lowly, flattening himself against the wall. “You all know what to do. Keep your guard up. Grab as much money as you can. We go in, and we go out.”

He pulled his mask over his nose. “Follow my lead!”

Whipping out both of his revolvers, Dutch planted a firm foot in the door and kicked it open, causing it to swing loose as everyone inside jolted their heads in his direction.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery!”

Rushing into the bank, Bill and Micah immediately got to work and started waving their guns around, making sure that all the customers were on the floor.

“Stay down!” Bill exclaimed, slamming the butt of his rifle into someone’s head.

Screams of panic could be heard throughout the building as the gang swiftly took control of the bank and cornered people into the walls, keeping them trapped behind the threat of getting shot.

“Don’t do nothin’ stupid!” Micah snarled. “Or you’ll get a bullet in your head! Understand?”

“Mr. M!” Dutch called out amidst the chaos, beckoning Arthur to the vault. “Go on and do your thing! We’ll keep an eye out for any law. Just get those bags full!”

Charging to the back of the bank, Arthur instantly aimed his pistol at the teller’s head and pulled down the hammer, forcing him to follow his every command.

“What’re you, deaf?” He barked, grabbing his collar. “Open the goddamn vault!”

“O-Okay!” The teller cried out. “Okay! J-Just... don’t hurt anyone!”

Reaching for the vault’s knob with a shaky hand, the teller frantically began to put the combination in while cowering under Arthur’s intense stare, his breath trembling uncontrollably with fear.

So far, everything was going according to plan, and neither Shay nor Dutch had raised the alarm yet, but Arthur just couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was coming.

Why else would the law leave the bank so vulnerable like this? This town was no stranger to criminals. Even in the busier parts of the city where things were more civilized, Arthur would still see at least one or two lawmen strolling about.

The only logical explanation he could think of... was that the Pinkertons were hoping to lure them all into one spot before wiping them out.

They must’ve known how Dutch’s mind worked by now, and they must’ve been able to predict that he’d hit the bank eventually.

Arthur’s only question... was how they knew it would happen today.

“There!” The teller whimpered, throwing his hands in the air. “I-It’s open!”

“Good, now get outta my way.” Arthur shoved the man off to the side, pushing forward into the vault.

“It’s open!” He announced to the rest of the gang. “Someone get over here and make sure this fool don’t try nothin’ funny. I’m gonna get the money.”

Stepping over the unconscious body of another customer, Arthur grabbed the bag dangling from his shoulder and began shoveling bundles of cash into it, wanting to get out of this godforsaken city as soon as possible.

He could already hear the whistles of police officers blaring in the distance, and if the amount of footsteps storming their way was anything to go by, Arthur imagined they were about to have one hell of a fight on their hands.

He just prayed they’d live long enough to see the end of it.

“How’s it lookin’ in there?” Dutch shouted across the bank.

“Good!” Arthur replied, not sounding too confident. “But it ain’t as much as we expected!”

The older man dismissed his comment. “Well, take it anyways! Now is hardly the time to be picky, son! We got lawmen headed our way!”

“I know! I’m goin’ as fast as I can!”

Moving onto the next stack of cash, Arthur opened up a second bag and began piling money into that one, hurriedly trying to swipe every single note he could see.

It sounded like someone was giving orders outside of the bank -- most-likely positioning their men to surround the building -- and just by listening to the scattered sighs of relief coming from the customers, he guessed that their gang was probably in the least favorable position right now.

How did they arrive so fast? Arthur wondered. He knew that something was amiss just based on the absence of any lawmen at the bank, but it still seemed odd to him that they were this prompt.

There was no way in hell that any of this was a coincidence like Dutch suggested. Someone told the law where their gang was going, and when they were going to be there. Someone here was a traitor.

Now they just had to figure out whom.

“...Van der Linde!” A man’s voice bellowed, causing the entire gang to fall silent.

Arthur froze in the vault, glancing over his shoulder at Dutch.

“Who the hell is that?” He whispered. The older man gave him a puzzled look.

“No idea.”

Readying his guns, Dutch crept his way over to one of the windows and peeked through the dusty glass, subtly taking a closer look at their unexpected visitor.

He couldn’t see their face from this distance -- what with all the sand billowing around -- but it didn’t take long for him notice the array of Pinkertons that had gathered outside.

They were in more trouble than they realized.

“Dutch van der Linde!” The man repeated, sounding much more aggressive this time. “I know you’re in there! Get out here! Now! There’s nowhere for you to run!”

Dutch kept himself hidden behind one of the walls, making sure that none of the Pinkertons could sneak a shot in.

“...And to whom do I have the displeasure of speaking with?” He called out, earning a few snickers from the gang.

“Oh, you know me.” They replied, evidently not threatened. “Much better than you think, old friend.”

A single man emerged from the crowd on horseback, holding a shotgun in his grasp.

He was dressed in a black suit and bowler hat -- similar to the rest of his comrades -- and he donned a familiar-looking mustache that instantly led Dutch to recognize his unforgettable face.

“It’s me,” the man said, “Edgar Ross. You remember, don’t you, Mr. Van der Linde? Your people shot my partner Milton in cold blood all those years ago. Thought I’d drop by and say hello.”

Dutch scoffed. “Well, I must say, you certainly have a... unique approach to reunions, Mr. Ross. Normally when I greet people, I’m holding their hand. Not a gun.”

The Pinkerton’s expression remained flat. “Oh, I doubt that. Your lot are murderers, Dutch. Savages. You’ve become just as deranged as those Skinner Brothers, and everyone knows it. But not everyone knows how to deal with it. That’s the one mistake Milton made that got him killed.”

Ross cocked his shotgun, prompting the rest of the agents to follow suit.

“I told that man, time and time again, that if you want to cage a wild animal, you have to treat it like one. You can’t show mercy to those who don’t understand the concept of it. Otherwise, they’ll just perceive it as weakness.”

Dutch decided to hold his fire for now and warned the gang to keep calm, despite their itchy trigger fingers.

“Oh, come now, Mr. Ross.” He bargained, his tone sharp with caution. “Must this day end with even more bloodshed? You pride yourself on being a civilized man, after all. Do you not? So why don’t we conclude this situation with civility... and put our guns away? Like gentlemen.”

Agent Ross didn’t budge in the slightest. “Civility was damned the minute you walked into town, Dutch.”

Dutch’s entire demeanor shifted at the response, and Arthur could’ve sworn he saw something snap inside the old man. Something akin to a fire being ignited.

He had this look about him that said he was going to do something bold, and judging by the way he scanned the room, Arthur had a feeling it was going to be dangerously reckless, too.

What on Earth was he planning?

“Y’know what, Mr. Ross...?” Dutch said darkly, his voice rumbling like magma. “You’re right. Civility be damned.”

Without giving anyone time to react, the man suddenly grabbed one of the women in the bank and held a gun to her head, presenting her to the lawmen as she shrieked in fear.

“What the hell are you doing...?!” Arthur questioned through gritted teeth, completely forgetting about the money.

“Saving our lives...!” Dutch growled under his breath. “Just let me handle this, son.”

Dragging the woman so that she was visible through the windows, Dutch tightly held her in his grip and kept the pistol aimed at her temple, practically drilling the barrel through her skull.

“Shit!” Edgar’s partner Fordham exclaimed. “He’s got a hostage!”

Dutch chuckled at that. “Oh, I assure you, mister! I’ve got far more than just one! There are plenty of souls in here ripe for the taking, and I will most definitely take them all.” A malicious glint twinkled in his eye. “...Unless, of course, you let us go. We are... civilized folk, after all.”

Micah and Bill both laughed at that, but Arthur wasn’t anywhere near being amused. If their gang managed to survive this mess of a robbery, he and Dutch were certainly going to exchange a few words later.

“Shay,” Dutch whispered, gesturing to the explosives on his person, “plant a stick of dynamite on the rear wall, would you? It looks like we’re blasting our way out of here.”

Mackintosh nodded, bolting over to the other side. “Alright. Just keep ‘em distracted.”

The outlaw grinned. “Oh, don’t you worry, my boy. I will.”

Bringing his attention back to the Pinkertons, Dutch continued to restrain the woman as she frantically struggled in his grasp, sobbing due to the panic.

“Now, Mr. Ross,” he carried on, “I hate to put you in such a tough position, but if you want me to let these people go... I’m afraid I’m gonna need some assurances in return. A few favors, if you will.”

The Pinkerton glowered at him, refusing to comply. “Hubris will be the end of you, Dutch. Let that woman go. She isn’t a part of this.”

“Wasn’t.” Dutch corrected. “But now, I’ve made her a part of it. So, what it’s gonna be, agent? Can we come to some sort of understanding? Or shall we skip the small talk,” he pulled the hammer down, “and get straight to the shooting?”

Fordham turned to Ross, his face plastered with concern. “...We have to do what he says, Edgar. For now, at least. He’ll kill her otherwise.”

The other man wasn’t convinced. “...No. He won’t. A hostage is no use if they’re dead.”

“But you heard Dutch,” the young man persisted. “He has more than one. You’ve seen how far this gang will go. Who’s to say they won’t shoot them one-by-one until they get what they want?”

Ross sighed in annoyance. “Do not believe the lies that these savages throw at you so easily, Archer. You really believe he has more than one? Dutch is just saying that to get the exact reaction he’s getting out of you.”

Fordham remained staunch. “Are you really willing to bet their lives on that? We can always recover the money stolen from this bank, but we can’t bring those people back once Dutch pulls that trigger. Whether he’s lying or not, we have to comply.”

In spite of the reluctance he harbored, Ross listened closely to Fordham’s words and reconsidered his stance on the situation, finally deciding that perhaps, his partner had a point.

Even though letting Dutch run away was the last thing he wanted to do, saving the lives of innocent people was more important. Dutch was most-likely going to die off soon anyway, considering the state of his health, but if there was any chance of having him face true justice, Ross was going to take it.

Still, he had to prioritize the safety of those hostages before anything else. They were completely defenseless in that bank, and if Dutch was actually telling the truth, then Ross didn’t want to be the one who simply stood by and watched as they died.

“Fine.” Edgar conceded. “We’ll stand down for now. Just make sure that he doesn’t--”

Before the man could even finish his sentence, a sudden explosion erupted from the bank and shook the entire city around it, causing the Pinkertons’ horses to rear out of fright as smoke polluted the air.

“What the hell?” Fordham blurted out, his eyes popping wide open.

“Goddammit!” Ross yelled. “They’re escaping through the back! Don’t let them get away!”

Whipping the reins on his horse, Ross and the rest of the Pinkertons immediately began galloping after Dutch as they charged towards the Great Plains, running like there was no tomorrow.

They didn’t hear any gunshots prior to the explosion, so Fordham assumed that Dutch had spared the hostages, but even then, their chances of survival were pretty slim. That bank certainly wasn’t the biggest one in America, and there was no way to guarantee that the dynamite hadn’t gotten them instead.

“They’re heading west!” Ross shouted, keeping his eye on the horizon. “Stop them!”

Opening fire on the Van der Lindes, the Pinkertons began showering the gang with a storm of bullets as they barreled their way across the open fields, leaving a trail of gun smoke and dust behind them.

A symphony of screams and shouts could be heard throughout the region as Pinkertons were sent tumbling off their horses by the Van der Lindes’ attacks, causing them to leave trails of blood on the golden grass below.

“You see them anywhere?” Fordham yelled over all the commotion, reloading his rifle.

Edgar did his best to peer through the smoke.

“...No.” He said in disappointment.

Ross yanked on the reins and slowed down to a halt, commanding the rest of his men to do the same.

“Shit...!” He cursed, attentively scanning the tree line. “Those bastards are quick. I’ll give them that.”

Fordham caught up to his partner, slightly out of breath due to the sudden chaos.

“Well, what do we do now?”

The other man gazed at the carnage behind them, more fervent than ever to take Dutch down.

“Keep searching for them. While their trail is still hot. We’ll push them all the way to Armadillo if we have to, but it won’t be easy. There aren’t as many of them nowadays as there were before. It’ll be harder to pick up any tracks.”

Fordham gave him a firm nod. “Understood.”

“But first,” Ross said, stopping Archer before he could leave, “I want you and a few other men to check up on the hostages at the bank. Some of them could’ve survived. If they did, they’ll need someone to look after them.”

The young man felt a sense of relief upon hearing Edgar say that. “Right. Of course. On my way.”

“Then make it quick.” Ross ordered. “I don’t want to give these animals the chance to flee the state. We have them by the neck. It’s time we took them down for good.”

Turning back towards Blackwater, Fordham called out to some of the other Pinkertons and beckoned them to follow him, breaking into a sprint as they all rushed to the bank.

Meanwhile, Ross stayed behind and continued his search for the gang, admittedly feeling sour that he let Dutch slip from his grasp once again.

Why was that man so difficult to catch? He was nothing but another lowlife terrorizing the American countryside, and it wasn’t as if the Pinkertons hadn’t dealt with his type before. In fact, Edgar was even willing to wager that they had fought worse.

He supposed it had less to do with Dutch himself, and more with the people who surrounded him. They were loyal. Well-trained. Bred for killing. The type of men who would rather die than let their leader be taken.

That was why Milton’s methods never worked. He gave the other members a chance to leave Dutch behind without realizing that he was the only world they ever knew. He bet his survival on the assumption that those people had something to go back to when, in reality, the gang had become their new family.

In Edgar’s eyes though, they were all monsters. Every single one of them had to be eradicated if the Pinkertons ever hoped to find peace, and despite how he may’ve clashed heads with Fordham occasionally, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to catch them alone.

The Van der Linde gang was dying, yes.

But that was what made them so dangerous.

And this time, the Pinkertons were prepared.

~~~~~~~~~~

HALF AN HOUR LATER

AURORA BASIN

“D’you think we lost ‘em?” Micah asked as he brought his horse to a stop, his heart still racing from what happened at the bank.

Dutch let out a deep breath and slouched in his saddle, coughing a few times before spitting on the ground.

“I... I think so.” He confirmed, slowing to a trot. “I doubt the Pinkertons will give up easily, but it doesn’t seem like they know where our camp is yet. We should be safe for the moment. Just keep an eye out. They already took us by surprise once. We don’t want it to happen again.”

Arthur grumbled at that and immediately hopped off his horse, almost tempted to hightail it out of West Elizabeth right there.

“Well, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you’d have just listened to me!”

Dutch looked at Arthur with a cautionary glare, his eyes wild from the fight. “I do not have time for this right now, Arthur...!”

But the younger man wouldn’t let up. “And when do you have time, Dutch? Huh? I tried to warn you twice about the risks that this robbery entailed, and twice you decided to ignore me!”

Arthur pointed outside the camp, his tone rough with disbelief. “You nearly killed that woman, Dutch. An innocent woman. Just like the one in Guarma.”

Micah scoffed. “Oh, you’re really gonna pull that one out, Morgan--”

“--Stay out of this, Micah.”

Dutch raised his voice, shouting over the two of them. “Enough! Stop it. Both of you.”

He brought his focus to Arthur, evidently furious with the man’s constant doubt.

“Listen to me, son. I did... what I had to. It ain’t pleasant, but sometimes, survival comes before morality. You saw the way those Pinkertons scrambled once I took that woman hostage. Their hesitation is the only reason we managed to escape. What else could I have done?”

“You could’ve listened.” Arthur said. “You could’ve listened to all the people who’ve warned you ever since the beginning, but over and over again, you chose not to. And now look where we are!”

“We are still alive, Arthur!” Dutch replied.

“We’re dying!” He yelled back.

Falling silent after his sudden outburst, Arthur sighed in exhaustion and removed his hat, wiping some sweat off his brow as Dutch approached him.

“Arthur,” he said, his voice much gentler now. “I... I ain’t got that much time left. You know this.”

Dutch put a hand on the man’s shoulder, looking him in the eye.

“I need you to be with me in these final moments. Not against me. These Pinkertons -- they don’t care who they kill so long as they’re killing one of us. All they want is to destroy our gang, and that’s why we need to stick together in this fight. We cannot let them win, Arthur.”

The other man’s face sank with despondency. “...They’re already winning, Dutch. It ain’t got nothin’ to do with us. That’s just the way it is now. Civilization is gonna be on top of us soon, and we’re gonna disappear someday, too. Whether we’re ready for it or not.”

Having no more desire to argue with Dutch, Arthur hurriedly pulled the bags off his shoulders and slung them across his horse’s saddle, not even bothering to grab his own share of the take.

“Here’s the money we got.” He showed Dutch. “Do with it what you will.”

Contrary to what Arthur expected though, the other man didn’t throw himself at the cash and, instead, simply gazed at Morgan, his eyes lost in sorrow.

Arthur could tell that Dutch felt a little apologetic for pushing him away like this, and they both wished there was some way they could get through to the other, but with all the pandemonium surrounding them these days, it seemed like their words often carried next to no weight.

Their conversations usually had about as much progress as Manifest Destiny did in New Austin, and considering the fact that Dutch didn’t pull out his gun this time, Arthur wondered if the man was truly sorry for his actions.

“Arthur...” the man whispered, “I--”

Before he could say anything though, the disgusting sound of someone retching abruptly interrupted them, and upon turning to see where the source was coming from, Arthur saw Cleet clutching his throat in the distance, his face turning into an alarming shade of blue.

“What the hell...?” Arthur murmured, still trying to process the view. “What’s wrong with him? Is he sick?”

Shay took a closer look at him, suddenly breaking into a panic once he realized the man was dying.

“Oh, shit. He’s choking!”

Putting his things down, Shay instantly jumped off his horse and rushed over to Cleet in an attempt to help him, only to screech to a halt when a gush of blood came spurting out the man’s mouth.

“Jesus Christ!” Mackintosh exclaimed, staring widely at the horrific scene.

Meanwhile, Cleet collapsed to the stained grass beneath him and continued to writhe in agony, his lungs desperately gasping for oxygen, but to no avail.

His lips were purple, his eyes were bloodshot, his teeth were red, and the veins in his forehead protruded to the point where Arthur thought they might burst through his skin. There was a yellowish foam bubbling around the corner of his mouth now, and despite the gang’s efforts to help him, his condition only seemed to deteriorate.

Eventually, within a few short heartbeats... he was gone.

Just like that.

All because of one untimely meal.

“...Lord above...” Dutch breathed out, still in shock.

“What... what the hell just happened?” Shay asked, gazing down at Cleet’s body. “Did he really choke?”

Arthur examined the man’s hellish-looking face, almost immediately coming to a conclusion.

“Of course not, dumbass. Look at him. Foam ‘round the mouth, bloodshot eyes, blue skin. Somebody poisoned Cleet.”

Bill called out to them from the supply wagons, adding even more problems to their already long list of concerns. “Yeah, and they also stole everything we have!”

Dutch strode over to him. “What’re you talking about, Williamson?”

“Look!” He pointed at the empty crates. “Our food, our money, our ammo -- it’s all gone! And our weapons are destroyed, too!”

Dutch glared at Joe with a deadly expression, clearly on the verge of killing someone. “Mind telling me what in the actual hell happened here, Joe?”

The poor man was at a loss. “Cleet and I didn’t see anyone in the camp, Dutch! I swear! There was no one here the whole time!”

“Is that so?” He snarled, grabbing Joe by the collar. “Then explain to me how Cleet was poisoned and our supplies were destroyed if nobody was goddamn here!”

Joe had no answer to offer. “I don’t know, Dutch. Truly, I don’t. I swear on my life--”

“--Good.”

Whipping out his gun, Dutch aimed the weapon straight at Joe’s forehead and nearly pulled the trigger, only to be stopped when Arthur intervened.

“Dutch, don’t!” He insisted.

“Why not?!” The older man asked, his jaw clenched in anger.

“Because we have no evidence that it was him! It could’ve been someone from outside the gang, for all we know!”

But Dutch wasn’t having any of it. “That’s what you believe? Oh come on, Arthur! How else could the Pinkertons have known when to corner us? How else could someone have snuck into our camp -- while we were all gone, no less -- and destroyed our supplies? Someone in the gang is helping the rat, and right now, I don’t see any other obvious suspects except for the one standing in front of me!”

Arthur rested a hand on Dutch’s arm, urging him to lower it.

“Even if it was Joe, we don’t have time to deal with this now, Dutch. The Pinkertons are still lookin’ for us. We’ve got a fresh trail leading straight to the camp, and if we don’t leave soon, we’re all gonna be hanging from a noose by the end of the week. We’ll find out who the rat is once we’re in a safe location. Or safer, at least.”

Dutch took one last look at Joe and ground his teeth together, deciding to hold back for now.

“...Fine.” He complied. “But don’t think I’m just gonna drop this, Arthur.”

“Oh, I know, Dutch,” he agreed. “I won’t either.”

Returning to their lives, Arthur and Dutch finally calmed down and started helping the other members pack up the camp, both of them extremely disturbed by the events that just transpired.

Not only did they lose one of their men today, they also had a plethora of new issues to worry about.

The Pinkertons were on their tail, Dutch was losing his mind, their supplies were all destroyed, and now, it was pretty clear that someone among the gang had turned traitor.

Why would they do this? Arthur questioned. What did they have to gain by killing a group of people who were already knocking on death’s door? Money? Power? Freedom from the rope? He had no idea.

Well, whatever the answer was, Arthur imagined they’d all probably be dead before they found out. The whole world was fighting against them now, and without anywhere else to run to these days, it felt like the walls were closing in on them.

Hope continued to wither away like a flickering candle, and seeing as how their family just got a little bit smaller, Arthur assumed it wouldn’t be long before the flame was completely snuffed out.

That was how the world functioned now. Civilization was bigger than all of them combined, and soon... it would consume them too.

Such was the way of life.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #isaac morgan #dutch van der linde #Micah Bell #Bill Williamson #edgar ross #archer fordham #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 oc

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violetmuses · 3 years ago

Text

Union || Chapter 6

Dedications: @ajokeformur-ray @kestiscroft

========

2023

Tracee Mitchell

“What are you doing here?”

His question to me rasped through nearly brisk air. I stood alongside him as we faced the Sokovian Memorial together. Open space of this area around us had been vast. I could only imagine how the nation existed before Ultron’s wrath interfered.

“Guess you’ve changed your mind about letting me join in.” I tucked both hands into the pockets of my coat and stepped forward without closing space between us.

“There is no point.” Zemo said, once again telling me that we’d be better off divided. Our bond had crumbled, vanishing as quickly as when it all started in 2016.

“Now what?” I whispered, still not allowing myself to face him.

“Either imprisonment or the finality of death will take me away from you.” For once, he turned around and dared to look at me.

“I know.” I said.

His perfect brown eyes locked with my own, staring. That longing expression would never again manifest into actions here.

We lost that miracle once his visions became crimes.

“You are so beautiful.” His charming accent croaked, saying goodbye to me at last.

To make matters worse, his left hand rose with the intention of caressing my cheek, but he stopped himself from touching me. His trembling palm dropped right back down, resting at his side instead.

“Thank you.” I accepted the compliment, taking in his words.

Just when I believed that Zemo would say anything else, we turned around at the sight of James. He had been standing behind us.

“I thought you’d be here sooner.” Zemo addressed him.

“Well, I’m here now.” James said. From the corner of my eyes, I noticed that a firearm rested at his side, but kept quiet.

“Don’t worry, James. I’ve decided that I’m not going to kill you.” Zemo continued speaking.

“Imagine my relief.” James kept his voice leveled while responding.

When James clicked that firearm into place and lifted that same gun upward, I knew that Zemo’s life would end. No more chances. No more danger. I closed both eyes, silently praying for a man I’d only known based on coincidences and trysts of intimacy.

“Karli has been radicalized beyond salvation. I warned Sam, but he didn't listen to me. He's as stubborn as Steve Rogers before him. You? They literally programmed you to kill. Do what needs to be done, James. Karli has people everywhere, and there's only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.” Zemo affirmed his fate, making one last point on the mission before one last bullet would finally return him to his family.

Tears already stung my eyes.

“Thanks for the advice, but we’re gonna do things our own way.” Bucky made his own statement just before pointing the gun right across from Zemo.

Yet, seconds later, I didn’t hear any gunshot pierce out loud. Instead, James opened his palm and one view before me had been astonishing. This distinct clank of falling bullets had reached the ground, chiming together in one group.

“I took the liberty of crossing off my name in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do. Goodbye, James.” Zemo bid farewell to James, not even bothering to even give that famous smirk..

Before I could try speaking up, marching soon filled my ears. It wasn’t long before uniformed members of the Dora Milaje towered in presence behind Zemo. Armed with Wakandan spears, every warrior stood at the ready, guarding as expected.

“We will take him to The Raft, where he will live out his days. It would be prudent to make yourself scarce in Wakanda for the time being, White Wolf.” Ayo stood beside James while holding her own Wakandan spear and stated Zemo’s “newest” incarceration. I also completely understood the idea of James not visiting Wakanda for quite a while, given everything that happened.

“Fair enough, but I may need another favor.” James agreed, but his next few words threw me off guard.

What next? I thought to myself.

________

A few days passed before I met up with James and Sam again.

“Sorry. I was texting, so, all I heard was a Black guy in stars and stripes. Nice job, Cap.” Not far away, James chatted with rightly uniformed Captain America. Legions of residents in the city just heard a rousing speech, but Karli had perished.

“Thanks, but who were you texting?” Despite laughing, Sam eyed James through goggles, but paused.

“Surprise.” Pushing myself away from this brick wall, I smiled, opening both arms to hug Sam. To be honest, I didn’t even care if weight of the Vibranium shield would crush me.

“I thought you followed Zemo…” Sam mocked me and lifted his hands, teasing.

“I did go to the Sokovian Memorial, but things are different now. Just take comfort knowing that he's back in prison.” I made my case, which eased Sam.

“Okay, but I better not hear any news about you visiting The Raft.” Sam warned, pointing towards me for emphasis.

“All right.” Chuckling, I rolled both eyes, letting Sam draped his arm around my shoulder.

“Look, I’ve got a lot more to do before tonight’s over, but it’s really good to see you.” Sam looked at me through his new goggles and offered that famously crooked smile. Even Redwing zipped by in brand new form, hovering near me.

“You too, Cap.” I smiled once again, proudly watching as Sam and James slowly disappeared together from my view.

***

“Four members of the radical group the Flag Smashers were killed today in a car bomb attack as they were being transferred to a high-security prison. There are no suspects in the bombing. The group had opposed the global relocation efforts of the GRC, who just this week had announced changes in their overall policies of repatriation and resettlement.”

Turning off the news, I grabbed my car keys and headed out of this apartment, walking down the stoop.

Not long after starting to walk down the street, I took out my cell phone and sent a few text messages:

Tracee: Are we still meeting up, Old Man?

Buck: Of course. I’m already waiting.

Tracee: Cool. I’ll be there.

Buck: See you soon.

As planned, I opened the front door of this small diner and found Bucky sitting in our usual window seat. Thanks to favors from him and Sam, I’d found much better housing. No more couch-surfing or brief hotel stays, at least until further notice.

“Hash browns, scrambled eggs, and bacon.” One of the servers set down my plate as if on cue. They had even started pouring coffee into a mug as I greeted Bucky.

“Where’s Sam?” I scooted into the booth, sweetening my coffee with both cream and two sugars.

“He’ll be here soon.” Before Bucky could even start eating part of his own meal, someone else entered the diner.

I glanced over my shoulder and of course recognized Sam’s crooked smile. Even quite a few customers around us beamed like fans.

“After we finish eating, will you be ready to leave?” Sam joined us in the booth and ordered something, but his question puzzled me.

“Where are we going?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Louisiana.” Sam winked at me from across the table while sitting next to Bucky.

He’d kept the promise after all.

#tfatws #mcu sam wilson #captain america sam wilson #zemo tfatws #zemo tag #mcu tfatws #mcu ff

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seanfalco · 5 years ago

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Blood in the Water - Part III

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Mafia!Jaskier x f!Reader Word Count: 3027 Rating: M Warning(s): Swearing, Violence, cw guns a/n: A lot of action in this chapter, also we get introduced to two more of the players :3 Taglist: @ficsandcatsandficsandcats @nevadawolfe @witchernonsense, @magic-multicolored-miracle @witcherwritings @scuzmunkie @coffee-and-stories @whatevermonkey - If you’d like to be added to my taglist, please let me know!

Stirring, you turned, finding Jaskier nestled next to you, his naked body twisted in your sheets and curled around you, his arm thrown over your waist protectively. The fact that he was still there, tangible and real and so very warm after the harrowing ordeal that was your last twelve hours was a godsend and you felt safer for his presence.

Turning to press your face against his chest, you listened to the steady beat of his heart. “Jask, are you awake?” you asked softly, waiting, though at the same time not wanting to wake him. However the way his arm tightened around your waist was confirmation enough.

Groaning softly, Jaskier’s eyes opened slowly. “Hey, did you sleep okay?” he asked, voice cracking slightly.

“Like a log,” you said, stifling a yawn. “I feel like I could probably sleep ten more hours though.”

“Then let’s go back to sleep,” Jaskier exclaimed, flashing you a sleepy grin before pulling you close again and closing his eyes.

“Jask, I can’t,” you whined, glancing at your phone. “I have to get ready for work.”

“What?” he asked, pushing himself up, worry tightening his eyes. “You should call in. You’ve had a harrowing experience and you need to rest. C’mon stay with me.”

Groaning, you sat up; bare skin prickling under the cold air as the sheets fell away from your waist. “I can’t Jask,” you repeated. “I really need to go in. If I’m being watched, I need to give the impression that I haven’t been shaken.”

“But you have been,” Jaskier interrupted. “Trust me, it’ll be alright.”

“I --” you sighed and shook your head, fighting off his attempts to pull you back down to the bed with him. “I don’t want to look weak. I can handle this.” You didn’t know who you were trying to convince more, him or yourself.

Seeing that you wouldn’t be persuaded, Jaskier pushed himself off the bed with a heavy sigh, watching you head to the bathroom, a pensive frown on his face, though his eyes traced the curve of your backside.

“Hey,” you called softly, glancing back at him from the bathroom door. “Wanna take a shower with me before you go?”

The quiet plea in your voice was more than enough incentive for him to stay a bit longer. “Well, twist my arm why don’tcha?”

—

The shower had definitely helped you feel more like yourself again and Jaskier’s presence was most welcome; solid and comforting. You’d been a little surprised at how serious he seemed lately. You’d only been dating for a couple months, after all, but he came to your rescue last night without a question asked. Wondering if maybe this had the makings of being a real, serious relationship you walked into the bar, head held high.

However as soon as you passed the kitchen your steps faltered and you stopped, glancing through the circular window of the swing door just like you had the other night. The breath you’d held whistled softly between your teeth as your eyes swept over the pristine stainless steel countertops and linoleum floor. Shaking yourself you frowned, of course there wouldn’t be any sign it had happened, you thought angrily. Just forget about it.

Taking a deep breath you pushed forward, making your way to the main room and taking your station behind the bar, readying the pub for opening and trying to ignore the buzzing in your chest that spread its way to your fingers.

The night went by like any normal night and you threw yourself into your work, thankful for the rush that put your hands to work and kept your mind from straying too far. You knew if you started thinking about it you wouldn’t be able to stop.

“A pint, please.”

The customer that took the stool in front of you snapped your attention back to the moment and you nodded, pouring her drink and sliding it across the bar to her. As she drank you studied her -- long dark tresses that made you jealous framed her face and dark violet eyes peered out from under her smokey lids, long lashes flashing. You’d certainly have remembered if you’d seen her before, but she was definitely a newcomer.

“This your first time here?” you asked, unsure what had compelled you to speak.

Wiping the foam from her lip the woman turned her attention to you, her dark lips twitching into a grin. “It is. I’ve heard some amazing reviews about this place.”

“Oh?” you asked, watching her transfixed. “And what do you think? Though you should come on open mic night sometime if you really want the proper Dandy Lion experience.”

Her laugh was melodious and deep. “I’ve also heard that. Although I have to say already it lives up to the hype. This is probably the best draught beer I’ve had in a long while.”

“Glad to hear that.”

She smiled, thought it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“It’s [Y/N],” you answered, picking up a clean towel to wipe down the bar.

“[Y/N],” she repeated, as if tasting it as she had tasted the beer. “You know, I’ve heard some interesting rumours about this place. Have you worked here long?”

“Long enough,” you responded noncommittally. Something about the way her eyes flashed as she asked you this made your hackles rise, putting you on edge.

The woman nodded thoughtfully. “So are the rumours true?” she pressed.

“And what rumours would those be?” You asked, glancing up to give her a meaningful look, hoping she would take the hint and shut up.

She glanced around her before leaning in closer, lavender eyes holding you captive. “That it’s owned by the mob?”

Slowly you wet your lips, unable to pull your eyes from hers. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. Like you said, it’s just a rumour, and I’m just a bartender.”

“Hmm,” she mused, her face an impassive mask, before shrugging. “Just curious. It would certainly give this place even more colour if it were true,” she remarked offhandedly before reaching into her purse and sliding her money across the bar. “Keep the change,” she instructed and you hesitantly reached for the bills. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” she said as she stood and glanced back at you over her shoulder as she walked to the door.

Your breath caught as you flipped through the money, finding a small business card. In a neat scrawl was a phone number and the message, “if you change your mind and want to talk, contact me”.

“Fuck,” you muttered, hissing as you nearly dropped the card. She was fucking cop. She had to be. And she thought you knew more than you were letting on.

Glancing around quickly to make sure you weren’t being watched you ripped up the card.

—

Several days went by and your life almost seemed like it had completely gone back to normal, other than the fact that every so often you felt eyes on your back, only to turn and see no one. However, as long as you kept yourself out of trouble the silent watchers would stay that, silent. And Mr. Pankratz would have no reason to come after you.

Jaskier, ever the attentive boyfriend, had begun spending even more time around your flat, and even going so far as to wait for you after work to accompany you home. He never made any comment on the visit you had with the mob boss, but you could feel his tension and the last thing you wanted to do was worry him more, so you kept the meeting with the suspected cop to yourself, hoping that was the end of it.

Oh, were you so wrong.

That night, work was the most usual it had been and you were thankful. Every night since the stunning dark haired stranger had left you her card you’d been on edge, just waiting for her to show up again, but it was closing time and you hadn’t seen any trace of her today, making that… three days now. Breathing a sigh of relief you stepped out into the alley, your keys in hand, looking forward to grabbing some takeout and snuggling up to Jask in bed.

“You never called me.”

Nearly dropping your keys you spun toward the sound of the voice.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” you exclaimed as your sights fell on the mysterious woman, waiting for you in the shadows. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You demanded, backing away from her.

Pushing off the brick wall she stepped out into the flickering streetlight overhead, violet eyes trained on you. “You know, I tried to make this easy for you,” she drawled, following you as you slowly retreated. “I know you know more than you’re letting on. But since you don’t wanna talk about it on your own terms, why don’t we do it on mine.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

Your back hit the side of your car and you gasped, no where else to run to.

“I’m taking you downtown, to answer some questions.”

“Wait, no,” you exclaimed, but the woman already had a lock tight grip on your arm and was pulling you toward her own car. “You can’t do that!” you hissed desperately, struggling in her grasp.

“This’ll go a whole lot easier if you cooperate,” she replied coolly, pulling open the passenger door and shoving you in.

“You don’t understand! If I’m seen with… someone like you, they’ll kill me!” you cried as she got behind the wheel, turning her face to look at you, her dark tresses flipping over her shoulder.

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me then.”

—

“I’m not under arrest, you can’t hold me! I want to leave!” You shouted at the two way glass of the tiny room you’d been left in. “You’re going to get me killed!”

Finally the doorknob rattled and the door opened, admitting the same crazy woman that had dragged you in. Completely nonplussed she took the chair in front of you, dropping a thick manila folder on the metal table between you.

“I’m Detective Yennefer Vengerberg,” she said, eyeing you coolly, as if you hadn’t just been yelling your head off.

“Am. I. Under. Arrest?” you asked, eyes flashing.

“[Y/F/N, Y/L/N],” Yennefer read off a sheet in the folder. “You’ve been employed at the Dandy Lion for two years now. You’re the head bartender, is that correct?”

“Yes, obviously,” you growled, your frustration growing.

“That position must come with a degree of trust, hmm?” This time you didn’t answer and Yennefer’s eyes flicked to you. “I’m sure you’ve heard things, in your time working there. Maybe even seen things. Things you may not have been supposed to see.”

“I haven’t.”

“We’re investigating a homicide, which we have reason to believe has ties to the mafia.”

“Yeah, what does this have to do with me?” you demanded, and Yennefer frowned slightly. You wondered if she was getting angry.

“Look, I’m done with being subtle. We have strong reason to believe the Dandy Lion pub is a front for the Pankratz family but we need a person on the inside. If you agree to be my informant, you will be well compensated.”

“You fucking bitch, you’re going to get me killed,” you interjected, the fear that had been growing in your gut, beginning to boil over. Your silent watchers were sure to have already sent word back to their boss that you’d been brought in by the police. Would they even give you a chance to explain that you didn’t talk? Would they even believe you?

Yennefer merely leaned back in her chair, folding her hands on the table.

“I’m being watched, they’re gunna kill me,” you moaned, teetering on the verge of panic. And what about Jaskier? What would happen to him? Would they hurt him too, just for being close to you?

“Then help us,” Yennefer stated with a shrug. “We’ll protect you.”

You couldn’t help but gape at her, the words unable to come. “You don’t understand…” you murmured, hot tears pricking your eyes as you hung your head, burying your face in your hands.

Taking a deep breath you steadied yourself, the decision already made. “Am I under arrest?” You asked again, your voice cold.

“Ah --!” Yennefer made as if to argue, but the look in your eye must have persuaded her. “No, you’re not.”

“Then am I free to go?”

Standing, Yennefer waved toward the door, her face a quiet thunderhead, barely concealed.

Nodding you stood as well and walked toward the door. As you opened it she spoke behind you and you paused.

“This isn’t the end of it.”

“Yeah, well it might be for me,” you grumbled without looking back.

—

Outside the station you pulled your phone out of your pocket and winced. There were several texts and even a couple missed calls, all from Jaskier.

Quickly you dialed his number, your lips beginning to feel numb -- the telltale onset of the panic attack you’d been fighting in the interrogation room.

“Hey --”

“Oh thank goodness,” Jaskier’s voice echoed in your ear. “Where are you [Y/N]?”

“I’m… at the police station.”

The line was silent for a long moment.

“What?”

“This fucking detective pulled me in, trying to make me agree to be her informant, but I said no. I didn’t tell them anything,” you exclaimed in a rush, your words falling out in a jumble. “What am I supposed to do, Jask?”

Your voice cracked so pitifully and you fought back a sob as you began to walk down the street, unsure what you were even doing.

“Where are you now?” Jaskier’s voice was so serious, it scared you.

“I’m - I’m walking to a bus stop. My car’s still at the pub.”

“[Y/N], listen to me, you’re in danger, okay. I’m going to come get you.”

“What, no. I-I’ve gotta get home,” you murmured, unable to really believe this was happening. How would Jaskier know you were in danger? The thought floated out of the ether and swiftly disappeared. He was probably just guessing. “I’ll meet you at my place,” you said, willing yourself to believe it was fine. Everything was gunna be fine.

“Wait, [Y/N]! Don’t go ho --”

You dropped the phone from your ear, disconnecting the call and the rest of his exclamation cut off. Of course it would be fitting for it to start raining just then.

You just continued to walk. Your phone ringing and ringing and ringing.

—

Soaked and freezing you climbed the stairs to your apartment slowly, dragging your feet one step at a time; the numbness in your lips had spread throughout your whole body, filling even your mind with white noise.

That’s probably why you didn’t really notice that your apartment door was open a crack when you reached it. It registered, sure, but you just kind of stood there in the hall, petrified with hesitation.

Flight, fight, or freeze -- this was freeze.

It was only luck that the first shot missed you. The bullet ripping through the thin wood of your apartment door, grazing your arm.

With a scream you fell, scrambling backwards down the hall, your muscles barely wanting to move.

Moments later you watched in horror as the door ripped open and one of the capos from the other day stepped out, his pistol glinting wickedly in the fluorescent overhead lights of the hall, a long slim silencer capping the muzzle, and it raised, trained on you.

Uselessly bringing your arms up to cover your face, you screamed, bracing yourself for the shot.

You heard it, and then nothing.

Shaking, you pulled your arms from your face to see the man stagger backward, blood pouring from his shoulder. Confusion gripped you and only then did it register that there were several sets of running footfalls approaching.

The capo raised his gun, but this time not at you, at something above and behind you and you turned. A large man in all black, his muscles straining under his tight clothing, silver white long hair pulled back out of his eyes -- nearly golden in the harsh light, pointed a long silver pistol at the capo, his finger squeezing the trigger.

Before you could see if the man’s shot had found its mark you were being pulled roughly to your feet and you gaped wide-eyed at Jaskier, who pulled you along behind him, his usually grinning face grim.

He didn’t say a word as you ran, the white-haired man following you. You nearly stumbled down the stairs in your haste, but Jaskier’s firm grip on your arm kept you upright. Outside he ushered you into a waiting car and the white-haired man jumped into the driver’s seat; tires squealing on the slick pavement as he whipped out onto the road.

Panting, you squeezed your eyes shut, unsure if this was real or merely a nightmare. Maybe you’d wake up and find Jaskier in your bed, greeting you with a soft kiss.

When you opened your eyes you were still in the dark car. The city slid past you in a flash of light and rain and Jaskier’s blue eyes nearly glowed in the light from a passing car.

“Why did you go back there, when I told you not to?” he demanded, his voice shaking slightly -- from anger or worry, you couldn’t tell.

“I… I --” you couldn’t seem to answer. “I don’t know.”

For a moment Jaskier’s face softened and his hand found yours in the dark. “I’m just… I’m just glad we got there in time.”

You swallowed, glancing into the front seat at the mysterious man that had saved your life. “Who is he? What --? I don’t understand, Jask,” you muttered, floundering for words.

Jaskier sighed, and for a moment he looked deeply sad. “I hadn’t wanted to tell you this. I wanted to keep you out of it.”

“Out of what…?”

“[Y/N], my real name is Julian Alfred Pankratz. I’m a member of the Pankratz crime family.”

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagines #mafia!au #jaskier #the witcher #julian alfred pankratz #mafia!jaskier #geralt #mafia!geralt #yennefer #detective!yennefer #fic: blood in the water #cw blood #tw blood #cw guns #tw guns #my writing

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chaoticneutralwriter · 5 years ago

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The Extent of Happiness

Jimin thinks he’s a perfect demon, given the centuries of work he’s done and now he dare say he makes for a pretty decent temp-guardian too — he even has the papers to prove it. So with a good clean record, he’s well on his way to getting into the good graces of heaven again to pardon his mischief, only he never realized in his long years of living until now that there is one short-coming he had — as both a demon and a guardian.

guardian demon!Jimin x reader

word count: 18.6k (lord)

genre: slow-burn, supernatural, comedy, fluff, romance, a little angst, slice of life

warning: brief talk of some ill-intentions towards another character

Related works: see masterlist under guardian demon! Jimin

A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVERR.... ;_; tfw the chapter is pretty straight forward but didn’t realize the scenes would take so much planning XD Lots of time skips-ish but it at least takes over the course of two days. Hope you enjoy it, thank you so much for all the patience and love once again! 😚😚💖💖

It’s over.

It’s finally over.

You collapse onto your bed, exhausted but victorious in a way. You’ve just finished your last exam, gone in with a fuck-all attitude that made it go by in a blur and now that it’s out of your hands, you’re finally allowed to be numb to it all. The stress of it is over and though you would be elated if you passed with a pretty good grade, you honestly don’t care if you scraped by or even fail one (you’ve done the math, that's how much you've given up). All you want to do now is to sleep for three years….and maybe have a glass of wine, or a whole bottle you’re not sure.

You’ll have to think on that. But right now, you just want to do nothing for a while.

Unfortunately, your body interpreted ‘do nothing’ as straight up passing out. You’re disoriented by the time you wake up, having not realized you fell into a coma-like sleep in the first place. Jaehee’s the one who knocks on your door to come check on you.

“Fam, you good?” She asks, half-jokingly but you can still hear the tinge of worry slipping through her tone.

You only let out a low, half-dying groan, shifting so that your face is not entirely smushed into your mattress.

“I don’t even remember falling asleep….”

If you had turned over more, you would’ve seen Jaehee giving you a wry smile. “Yeah…. You were out cold when I got home and I didn’t have the heart to wake you, but then I got really worried because you were seriously like out.”

That got a snort out of you, however groggy you might feel as your mind takes its time to become more alert.

“But congrats on finishing your last exam today!” Jaehee cheers, coming over to sit at the end of your bed where your body is draped over in a horizontal fashion. “We should celebrate.”

You let out a whining noise of protest because although you do want to go celebrate (read: drink yourself into an oblivion while stuffing your face with the fattiest, greasiest foods you could find), you also really don’t feel like moving yet. Jaehee laughs, patting your head in a very motherly way that has you nearly dozing off again.

“Okay, okay how about we order pizza and we crack open some cold ones over Netflix?”

That gets a short bark of laughter from you and that’s all that Jaehee needs before she’s getting up again to place the order. During that time, you roll around on your bed some more, scroll through your social media for a while before finally mustering up the strength to get up with a stretch. You loudly let out a drawn out groan as your joints pop and your muscles unwind from being in the same position for so long before you stand, grabbing a new set of PJs as you head to the bathroom.

After a refreshing shower that leaves you more awake now and ready to devour some serious carbs, you saunter into the living room where Jaehee is setting up the extra large pizza box on the coffee table. Your mouth instantly waters at the smell of melted cheese, pepperoni, bacon and mushrooms. Beside the box is a case of Somersby cider, the cans still chilled with condensation so when you crack it open to take a sip, it sends a pleasant chill down your throat.

Taking a seat next to Jaehee on the couch, you reach for a slice of pizza and the first bite has you moaning loudly. “Let me stay like this forever.”

Your friend giggles at your overdramatic comment but nevertheless starts scrolling through the Netflix account to find a series to watch.

“Well, you can now that you’re done for the semester.”

“Thank God for that.”

As Jaehee settles on a show, she reaches for her own can of alcohol, bringing it up towards you and you instantly respond by grabbing yours.

“Cheers to finishing that semester.”

You clink cans, grinning as you take a hefty sip, sighing out contently as you already feel your nerves dissipate with the sweet promise of long restful days of sleeping, eating, and lounging.

Yeah right.

It’s like the universe had decided for you that you’ve had your fill of living out your best life as a human sloth and now you need to get back to being a useful member of society. And since you’re always in need for those few extra dollars, it’s no surprise you find yourself taking on more work shifts, no matter how soul draining it all is.

Do it for the money, you tell yourself, just do it for the money.

Besides, you further reason, you need a distraction or you’ll just find yourself perusing your social media threads which would lead to you being caught up in the hype for BTS’ first day of their North American leg of the tour. It’s fast approaching but at this point, you feel like you’ve gone through your stages of grief and had reached the inevitable acceptance — you’re not going to any of the stops and your only hope rests in the four small words at the very bottom of the official touring website.

You cash out the last of the customer standing in line, grateful to have a moment of peace where you can do something other than force a smile on your face and be overly polite and friendly. You walk over to the end of the cash counter where off to the side is a cart full of items that needed to be ticketed for clearance. It’s not the most exciting job, but after spending majority of your shifts on cash and nothing but cash you’re willing to take any job. So with a label gun in hand, you set to work on scanning the items and adjusting the numbers appropriately to make the correct price tags.

You’re halfway through the cart when you feel a sudden chill, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand and automatically you already know who this is. Your gaze whips around, trying to be subtle about it until a voice calls out to you from above.

“Right over here poppet.”

Your eyes land on the shelves behind you and situated at the very top on a sewing machine box, you find Jungkook peering down at you with his signature bunny grin. His mop of brown hair is a little unruly, leaving his front bangs to sweep over his forehead and he’s still dressed like one of the international students at your college — comfy but bougie as hell. Sighing, you continue with the task at hand, pretending he’s not there just so you won’t look crazy on camera.

“Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He rebuttals, jumping down gracefully next to you despite those clumpy looking Balenciaga shoes he’s wearing (you swear you could kill someone if you threw it at them hard enough). You roll your eyes, already knowing what he’s insinuating when he says that.

“For the billionth time I’m not going; I thought we had this conversation already.”

“Well you can’t blame me for thinking you’ve got such a weak will.”

That causes you to shoot a glare his way and all he does is raise an eyebrow back at you, almost challengingly. It makes you let out a huff of frustration, going back to slapping the items with their pricing stickers a little too aggressively.

“Then what do you suggest I do? Summon another demon so they could be my doppleganger?”

“What? Oh no, that won’t do. Your soul is bound to Jimin so there’s possibly nothing you could offer in exchange for another demon’s service.” Jungkook brushes off your sarcastic rhetorical as if you had seriously asked. “Although you possibly could ask an incubus in exchange for sex….but I don’t think Jimin would be too happy with that…”

Jungkook successfully makes you blush at his offhanded comment, mind reeling and going off in places that they most definitely shouldn’t be going. You have to shake your head to rid of those thoughts, but that doesn’t stop your cheeks from burning still. Forcefully, you think about puppies and kittens and BT— No, no, the one time to not think of them.

Your hand pauses briefly and you turn to pin the brunette sitting on the counter beside you a hard stare. He’s lost in thought, actually considering all the ways that can possibly help you play hooky with your job. You’re a slight bit touched that he seems to care so much but at the same time, you think this is all completely unnecessary. Finally, after a few more minutes of pondering, he sighs out in a defeated manner.

“The only other option I can think of is finding a witch to clone you. But I heard their methods are highly unstable, usually a fifty-fifty chance in death or your clone going on a rampage to actually steal your identity so I don’t know if you’d be down with those odds.” Turning to you, he nods in serious affirmation. “I think the sex demon is your best bet, even if it’ll make Jimin a little mad.”

You choke on the air you harshly inhale, hand coming up to try and smother your coughing fit. By the time you’re able to breathe again without losing a lung, you have tears in your eyes from the exertion but that doesn’t stop you from throwing a narrowed eyed glare at Jungkook who’s watching on with an obviously amused smile.

“I am not doing that.” You wheeze.

“Why not? If it’s because of Jimin, then I’ll handle him for you.”

“No Jungkook, it’s not— “ You pause to kiss your teeth, agitated. “I’m not that desperate. Besides, I’ve already put my money on them adding additional dates after their first leg is over.”

It’s true, you’re not about to resort to shadier means to get what you want; point proven when you turned down even Jimin when he offered (and his method had way less strings attached than the one Jungkook is suggesting). Furthermore, what logic would that be if you refuse help from your own guardian demon only to turn around and accept help from someone else, much less another demon? He’s insufferable, the bane of your existence at times sure, but you can never imagine doing something like that to him, especially after all he’s done. The very suggestion makes your stomach churn unpleasantly — he doesn’t deserve that.

The young demon doesn’t say anything afterwards, just quietly stares at you in utter disbelief for what you think is an uncomfortably long amount of time before —

“You seriously would rather subject yourself to this capitalist slavery than take the chance of getting good demon di—“

The package you’re holding goes flying out of your hand before you can think about it (you think it’s a Disney Princess pink foam crown from the kids section). Jungkook narrowly dodges it with a swift lean of his head, impeccably wide eyes indicating that even he was caught off guard from your sudden display of speed. The item merely smacks against the edge of the computer monitor of the register, lightweight enough that you didn’t need to worry about getting fired for property damage but it didn’t go unnoticed by your manager on duty as not even a minute passes before your headset crackles with her concerned voice.

“Woah what happened there, Y/N? You okay?”

You fumble with your mic, face a raging inferno as you press down on the button to laugh nervously into. “Y-Yeah, no I just saw a spider and it freaked me out. That’s all!”

You get a laugh in return, “Oh yikes. Okay, understandable. Carry on!”

Jungkook’s snickering brings your attention back to him and you could only petulantly glare at him. Luckily, you didn’t have to continue bickering uselessly with him as over his shoulder, you see a few customers begin to stream into the queue line. With one last pointed look, you mutter quickly through gritted teeth.

“I am not going to the concert and I don’t need any of your scheming ways to make it happen otherwise.”

You see him roll his eyes before swiftly, you turn on your heels and scurry back over to your designated register to wave down the approaching customer to ring them up.

It’s just past three o’clock and noticeably the cafe starts to pick up with an influx of patrons. Evidently, being situated near the downtown area didn’t help either as every which street, the establishment is surrounded by towering office buildings. Whether it be just a single elevator trip down or just a walk across the street, everyone flocked to this cafe to get their caffeine fix or a quick bite to eat. The place drew in all sorts of people, which made for a very interesting place to people watch.

Now normally, Jimin wouldn’t be out so early in the day, preferring to wander the streets at night. That’s when all the greatest likes of people come out — well, ‘great’ in demon standards; the perfect hunting ground to secure more poor souls doomed to hell with all their scheming, ill-intent, self-destructive ways.

But, he thinks, a slow smile barely contained behind the rim of his coffee cup, it doesn’t take much to spot a potential victim, even with the rose-tinted glasses of daylight on. All you had to do was stop and look.

His dark eyes lock onto the figure seated in the far corner of the cafe, hunched over the laptop in front of her. From his vantage point, he could make out her features clearly — long dark hair falling in loose curls around her shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face, straight nose, full lips with a dainty cupid’s bow, and porcelain skin all make up this young face. She looked to be mid-twenties if Jimin had to guess and by the way she dressed so casually amongst the sea of business suits and blazers suggests she might possibly be a student or someone who just got out of school. At first glance, this girl was like any other face in the crowd — unassuming and made an effort to sticking to themselves, just like everybody else in this cafe.

Except Jimin can spot something shady going on a mile away, and this one was only a few tables.

Now as to exactly what, he’ll have to get a closer look to find out. So with one last sip from his cup, he uncrosses his legs and gets up to make his way over to the young lady’s table. He approaches with just a few long strides and though it takes her a moment to notice his presence, she still had to do a double take once her wide eyes landed on his face. It makes him smile, eyes creasing and when he sees her face flush pink, he knows he’s got her.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin starts, coming off bashful as he brings a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “This might seem really creepy but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around this cafe before and I’m a regular here.”

The girl barely recovers from her flustered state, shaky hands also coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s having a hard time maintaining eye contact with him and it only goads him on further, keeping his eyes on her and the ever sweet smile still present in an almost purposefully teasing way.

“O-Oh, uh, um yeah. I usually like to hang out in this other place but, I had errands to do around here so I just stopped here for a bit….” Her voice wavers with nerves but she clears her throat, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“Ah, I see.” Jimin replies, feigning interest as he idly runs a hand through his new ash brown hair. “I’m glad you did, it’s a really nice place to come by — amazing coffee and in-house pastry. Have you tried them?”

The small talk continues with Jimin effortlessly getting her to let her guard down more and more until after an empty pastry plate and a latte later, he’s managed to settle himself comfortably in the seat in front of her sharing chuckles and names (Kim), her laptop long forgotten. Here, Jimin can really take in the details of her person; the Chanel t-shirt peeking out from underneath her windbreaker that’s definitely not a knockoff, the Cartier necklace with it’s dainty charm sitting at the base of her throat, the Hermes bangle that gives off a lustrous shine whenever she brings her slender hand up to cover her mouth as she laughs along with the rose gold diamond Rolex watch.

Either she’s got a nice honest paying job, or she’s getting her funds by….other means.

“That’s a really nice watch you have there; Rolex?” Jimin asks, smoothly taking Kim’s hand into his to inspect the watch clasped onto her wrist. He pretends to admire it, completely ignoring the way she blushes.

“Yeah, got it not too long ago.”

“Lovely taste.” He lets go, making sure to linger in his touch. Kim appreciates the gesture, smiling coyly as she slowly takes her hand back. Amidst the chatter of the cafe, a chime followed by a buzz draws the girl’s attention to her phone placed off on the side. Kim takes it into her hand, unlocking before scrolling through it with hasty fingers. She looks up after a few moments later, regret reflecting in her brown irises.

“Hey, I gotta get going. Maybe we could grab coffee again some other time….?”

Jimin hears the way she lets the question hang and it only makes him grin. Regardless, he takes out his phone and Kim eagerly exchanges numbers with him (even sending him a text to make sure it goes through correctly). Once she’s satisfied, she packs her laptop into a sleeve and puts on her Gucci crossbody over her shoulder.

“I’ll see you around Julien.” Kim beams, walking off with a noticeable pep in her step. He watches her go with an easy smile and to onlookers, they might’ve pinned him for a poor sap who’s become infatuated by the girl he’s just met in his favourite coffee shop — a plot straight out of a romance novel. Oh, if only they knew; how funny would it be when they realize that this angelic smile hid a demon who’s just found his next prey.

Glancing down at his phone, his eyes read over the name of the poor girl who’s about to have karma bite her in the ass. Kim, he thinks with a dark chuckle, just what kind of dark secret are you hiding behind your own innocent smile?

He’ll look forward to finding out.

“Hey, are you working tomorrow?”

You’re in the break room, pulled out from your reveries (what you actually mean is dissociating) by the small chime of your phone signalling a text message. It’s Jaehee and you take a pause on reading her question to think of your answer, mentally going through your work schedule that you’ve gleaned over earlier today before coming into your shift. You don’t remember much but you do know you are working, just not sure whether it would be a short early shift or a closing one again. You hope that it’s not the latter. The very thought makes you shudder.

“Yeah I am. Why what’s up?” You shoot back and no sooner had the message been sent, you get one in return.

“Uhh? Your birthday….??”

Oh shit really? You think to yourself, shocked. You pull up the calendar on your phone and see that yes, your birthday is indeed tomorrow. The revelation has you dazed for a second, wondering where the time went.

“Oh wow, LOL. I didn’t even realize….”

“Girl…. We need to do something for your birthday!

We could do something like head out for dinner and a couple of drinks.”

“That sounds good, but I can’t remember if I’m closing or not :|

I’ll have to double check to make sure.”

“Okay, either way, let me know what the plan is and we work something out!”

“Yeah, will do :)” 

You say that but honestly, planning something for your birthday was the last thing on your mind. You would even go as far as to say that you don’t really care anymore. It sounds a lot more depressing than it really is because you think that most people reach that point about certain ages don’t they? When all of your friends’ schedules match up only once in a blue moon, too busy with the grind or other commitments that meeting up at all, let alone for someone’s birthday, is good enough.

Ugh.

You unconsciously frown, wanting to shake your thoughts off on the topic by pulling up your social media apps. Out of instincts, your thumb taps onto Twitter and you’re only greeted by your feed being filled up by huge banners and pictures of the BTS tour and how tickets for their next stop will promptly go on sale tomorrow at 3PM.

Wow.

It’s like the universe just said ‘fuck you’ to your face; tickets are going on sale on your birthday and you can’t even go. You must be the most unluckiest fan alive right now. What’s worse is that it’s for the next neighbouring city to you, and theoretically, your last chance to cave in.

No, no, you shake your head. You need to stop doing that — you’ve made your peace with this already, and the wanting feeling just resurfaced because you’ve been smacked in the face with it. You exit out of the app quickly and stand, shoving your mobile into your back pocket as you start to head back out of the break room to continue your shift. You dread every step of the way because today, you’re part of the closing team and with the warming weekend weather, people tend to want to hang out longer.

Which is, much to you and your co-workers chagrin, what ends up happening. You spend the next five to ten precious minutes past closing urging straggler shoppers to get the fuck out in the most politest way so that you could all finally start cleaning. So of course by the time you’re done and with no mischievous demon by the name of Jungkook around this time to cause any excuse to leaving early otherwise, you all get out way past the appointed end shift time.

You hurry to the bus stop after a hasty goodnight, eager to get home. Thankfully, you only wait around five minutes before the bus shows up and you get on, not bothering to take a seat for the short three stop ride even though there were plenty of empty seats for your picking. You can’t deny that you’re a little bit antsy, commuting at night alone always manages to do that for you even when you make it to your stop without any incident.

It’s okay, you think as you hastily make your way down the street, you’re nearly there and it’ll be fine the rest of the way.

You don’t stop to think about the logic of your thought just now because by no means are you anywhere near your house yet, let alone your street. You still had about a block left before you meet —

Oh.

You slow your power walking down to let out a huff of disbelief at yourself. You did not just seriously….

You sigh deeply, too tired to mentally battle it out with yourself about denying the fact that you find Jimin’s routine meet up on your night shifts gave you comfort and security on the trip home — that extra peace of mind. Not saying that you’d be completely crippled if he wasn’t there but… It's nice to have him walking beside you like a shadow that shielded you from any creeps way scarier than any demon you’ve met so far and… he makes the night a lot more enjoyable to be in.

Holy shit, you must be tired as hell because you did not just think that into existence. Your cheeks are heating up on their own and you had to give yourself a light smack to dispel any further thoughts of that nature from developing. At least there was one saving grace about it all; no one was around to witness any of this.

With that, you focus back on trucking along, heart hammering from your exertion or your anticipation, you’re not quite sure. Either way, your pace picks up when you see the beginnings of your street corner come into view. Usually, Jimin would be there just before you make the turn and from there, you’d both walk back the rest of the way, past the convenience store with the dumpster and flickering street light.

So when you round the corner —

Your feet falter, finding no one.

You slow until you stop completely, more concentrated on trying to spot his familiar lean figure that’s always dressed to the nines but somehow always look effortless but after double checking (triple checking, in case your eyes are really that bad) you find no one; not a single soul.

A weight suddenly drops into the pit of your stomach and for a moment, you’re at a loss of what to do. Should you wait around to see if he shows up with the off chance that he's late today? Or should you just power on through? Your gaze shifts to the street ahead of you and it’s like the darkness and the scattering of lights elongate to an endless pathway leading into an inky abyss. You lick your lips that had gone dry, taking in a shaky breath in an attempts to gather yourself but with one glance around your surroundings, you decide firmly that there was no way you were gonna hang around here longer than you need to, not when you know how notorious the store corner could get with its less-than-savoury visitors. You feel a bubble of irritation begin to swell inside you but you crush it in favour of wanting to get home as fast as you can.

So with a swallow, you take off in a power walk, shoulders hunched and legs burning with the strain you put with how quick of a pace you’ve set for yourself. Your hammering heart only accelerates once you come upon the twenty-four hour convenience store, the same one you got harassed by before Jimin showed up in the nick of time. The grip you have on your bag strap tightens as with a quick flit of your eyes, you find that the corner with the dumpster just behind the store is not occupied for once by anyone, at least from what you can see. You don’t bother to confirm if it’s true or not, taking full advantage of this bit of luck as you practically barrel past it, almost breaking out into a run just to get by. Once you do, you race the rest of the way up your front door steps and with a few fumbles of the keys in shaky, adrenaline-filled hands you fall through the doorway, the breath you didn’t realize you were holding comes out in one big whoosh.

You take a moment to stand there, breathing in deeply to calm yourself before eventually, move away from your threshold, locking the door and slipping off your shoes. Trudging to your bedroom, you don’t bother to flick the lights on as you blindly move about to grab your pyjamas, flinging your bag and heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

You hit the bed with a thump, thankful to be in its warm sheets but still feeling slightly miffed, mind racing to try and come up with some logical reason as to why Jimin wasn’t there tonight. You toss and turn for a bit but then come to a screeching halt halfway through it; he never explicitly said he would walk you home whenever you had a night shift, he sort of…started doing it on his own and you just never questioned it. Then somewhere along the way, you assumed it became an unspoken promise between you two — something that didn’t need an explanation and something that you grew to look forward to so to have it come to an abrupt stop…

You sigh out, flipping to your side and curling up on yourself, feeling ridiculous and still very much restless; guess you’re not going to sleep tonight and you hate how it’s because of how fixated you are on your guardian demon. Since when did you become someone who got so hung up on stupid small things like this? He’s his own being, a demon who roams the night freely and without fear doing what he does best; get people to make stupid decisions.

But he could’ve at least sent you a text.

You actually grab your own mobile, the light blinding you for a second as you pull up his message thread. The last text you sent each other was during your house viewing with Jaehee. Confronted with the option now, your fingers itch to send off a passive-aggressive text to him, letting him know that you made it home safely without his help thanks for asking—

You blink and suddenly the message is typed out in the box, ready for you to hit send. It takes you a second to register what you had done and it makes you backspace immediately in horror. No, you won’t be like this, can’t be like this, because does it even make sense for you to?

You grab the calico plushie with more strength than you mean to and smash your face against its soft body to drown a groan and the sinking feeling in your chest. That’s it, you’re stopping right there and you are going to sleep and forget about this all because if you don’t you’ll just give yourself a headache and lose out on sleep needlessly. You fling your phone to the ends of your bed for good measures.

Who cares about Jimin, you certainly don’t.

The girl in front of him throws her head back to laugh, hand covering her mouth to retain some modesty and keep up her appearances as being a ‘proper lady’. He doesn’t entirely care in that, nor the high spun tale he’s conjured up that caused her to laugh; it’s all pretences to him. Still, he plays his part, smiling behind the rim of his whiskey glass as he watches her with twinkling eyes full of mischief until she calms down, fanning herself lightly.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe that happened to you — on your first trip to Bali too.”

Jimin could only offer her a bemused shrug, placing his glass down on the table to cross his legs. “Guess that’s what you call life huh?”

Kim giggles, taking a sip of her own drink as well too before reclining back into the plush black leather booth seat. When she had suggested that they grab coffee again some time, this wasn’t exactly the first thing that Jimin had in mind. Though to be fair, he should’ve figured with the text she sent him, asking if he was free two days later from their initial meeting to come out at a time that’s way too late to be having coffee and at an establishment he swears didn’t exactly serve coffee. A ritzy place, dimly lit by warm lights from the crystal chandeliers hanging above each round table with a colour scheme of black, white and dark cherry wood. Not exactly a place your average Joe would pick for a date, not unless he wanted his wallet to bleed dry but luckily neither of them need to bother looking at the menu in the first place.

She makes show of that by refilling her glass of expensive wine, not caring how her dulled senses manhandles the bottle slightly, putting it down with a little too much added force. It makes her giggle sheepishly, ducking her head because the noise seems to rattle the entirety of the upscale bar, the soft jazz music no way helping to mask it. Jimin chortles and Kim flushes pinker than she already is under her foundation.

“So,” Jimin starts coolly, “How about yourself? Got any juicy stories you wanna share?”

Kim places her glass after sip down gently this time, licking her painted lips that had the slightest tinge of the darker berry colour to them now. She tilts her head to ponder, pouting but then smiles with a shrug.

“I don’t think any of mine would top yours to be honest.”

“Oh really? Nothing at all?”

“I’m positive.” She laughs, “I feel like all I do on trips is lay around, sun bathe, and eat and drink expensive wine.”

Jimin nods in understanding, reaching out to take a swig of his whiskey again. Throughout the night, he and Kim had talked about things that one typical does during a ‘date’ — work, hobbies, friends, families, the likes. Very mundane and nothing to be too concerned about, only what Kim doesn’t know is that the more she talks about herself, the more Jimin is beginning to get a good idea as to what sort of secret life she’s hiding. From what he gathered, she’s a recent college graduate majoring in marketing, lived alone in an apartment, and worked for a company that was getting their big break-through in expanding.

Doesn’t seem at all suspicious but considering the state of the economy, either Kim is one lucky girl or she’s obviously getting her funds somewhere else. No student straight out of college would be able to afford the luxury items Kim seems to so whole-heartedly indulge in, even with a decent paying job. Perhaps a sugar daddy? No, she’s out here seeing him isn’t she? A wealthy family then who funds everything for her?

There are still pieces missing to this puzzle and Jimin needs to find out more. Unfortunately for him, Kim downs the rest of her wine with a sense of finality and he already knows before she opens her mouth that she was planning on calling it a night.

“I think I’m done with my fill of merlot. Any more and I feel like you would have to carry me out and that’s not exactly how I want to end my night with you.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Jimin grins wolfishly and that causes a bout of giggles to bubble from Kim’s lips. As she’s distracted, Jimin waves down the waiter to pay the bill, swiping his card and signing off the receipt before getting up from his seat. He waits patiently as Kim gathers her things but as she gets up, she tips a little too heavily to one side that Jimin had to steady her by the shoulder. The brunette laughs breathlessly, leaning into him as Jimin smiles while guiding her out of the upscale bar with a hand on the small of her back.

The night is a lot warmer compared to the last few, but of course that doesn’t stop Kim from clinging to Jimin’s arms like there was a biting breeze nipping at her skin, heeled footsteps echoing loudly against the asphalt. She also takes the liberty to direct him to round the side of the building where a small space reserved for parking was. Jimin’s quick to catch on as he glances down at Kim’s still flushed and smiley face with a quirked eyebrow.

“Do you intend to drive home like this?”

Immediately, she whips her glazed eyes upwards, widened in shock and pouts petulantly at him, seemingly offended by his assumptions. “Julien! I’m not that stupid. I just wanna make sure I didn’t leave anything important in there before I call an Uber.”

Jimin chuckles good-heartedly, bringing up a hand in a placating manner. “Sorry, sorry. People tend to be a poor of judge under the influence but it’s good to see that you’re one of the smarter ones.”

Unfortunately.

It would be so easy for Jimin to just whisper into her ear and convince her that she’s totally fine to drive home. Then, all he had to do was watch her drive off and not even a block down, she’d run a red light, get T-boned and he can dust his hands off with another job well done. The idea is tantalizing but no, he’s long since been tired of a successful hunt that lacked any thrill. Which is why when they both reach Kim’s car (a sleek black BMW M5), Jimin turns to her with a well-placed charming smile.

“How about I make it up to you on that last comment? I’ll drive you home.”

Kim pauses mid-push of unlocking her car, throwing a rather dubious look over her shoulder at him. Jimin holds his ground, steadfast in keeping up the non-threatening facade, posture relaxed even as she turns to face him squarely, leaning back heavily against her ride with an impressive piercing gaze. He senses the cogs in her head working, no doubt weighing the pros and cons of accepting his offer. Before he could let the doubts fester, Jimin speaks, voice lilting with an irresistibly smooth velvet finish.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to say yes. I just wanted to make sure you got home safe is all.”

His eyes flare a deep crimson so quickly that to Kim’s slightly muddled mind, it appeared to only be the trick of the light. Jimin sees the effects of his words take hold of her, and after a few minutes, Kim loses the tenseness of her shoulders, looking at him in a new light.

“I mean, if it won’t be too much trouble for you…”

And like that, she’s entangled herself more into his spider’s web. Jimin smiles, eyes creasing up in a very pleased way. It makes Kim smile in return for all the wrong reasons as she her keys off to him. He strides towards her, taking it from her grasp before unlocking the doors and opening the passenger one for her. She ducks into her seat and Jimin shuts it firmly once she’s settled in before rounding around the car to get into the driver’s seat.

As expected, the interior of the car was black, crisp leather interlaid with dark burgundy polished wood for the dashboard and for a second, he could pick up the faintest whiff of the new car smell still lingering around. The smile widens on Jimin’s lips as he glances over at the owner who’s buckling in her seatbelt. She feels his eyes on her and when she turns, she grins coquettishly.

“What?”

“It’s a very nice car.”

Kim preens at the compliment, leaning over to whisper, “I know.”

It makes Jimin chuckle, adjusting his seat and the steering wheel before fastening his own seatbelt. Once he’s comfortable, he hits the start-push button and the car hums to life.

The drive to Kim’s place was filled with more small talk about the passing neighbourhoods and other fancy eating places she hints at for potential future ‘dates’ — none of which interests Jimin. What does however, is the directions she’s giving him albeit in her now drunken sleepy state. She leads him out of the upscale part of the city where all the new high-rises and penthouse suite condos were gathered in favour of an older looking neighbourhood. The apartment buildings begin to look visibly aged, the colour scheme falling into the more rustic ash brown and not as lustrous or modern as the others they had just passed. It reminds him of where you live; modest, not-as-flashy but still well kept neighbourhood. They’re still in way better shape than some of the neighbourhoods Jimin has seen that’s for sure but in this case, it was not a place Jimin had pictured a someone like Kim who seems to live and breathe luxury to be living in.

But Kim only confirms her residencies here when she directs Jimin to an underground parking garage that was connected to one of these bricked apartment buildings. He can’t help quirking an eyebrow at her as he pulls up to the yellow plastic gate right next to the security speaker box.

“We’re at the right place right?” The teasing overtone of his question hides the backhandedness of it (but he thinks Kim wouldn’t notice anyways, given her state).

“Hm?” Kim turns from staring out her window, dazed for a moment at his remark before she seems to realize where she is. She flushes pink, clearly flustered as she stutters. “O-Oh! It’s just temporary….I’m actually moving soon.”

Jimin hums noncommittally, rolling down the window in order to speak to the building security to let them through the gate with Kim telling him that all he needs to say is that he’s a visitor, her full name and floor she’s living on. It works because the yellow gate lifts and he’s allowed to drive the rest of the way in, entering the garage as it opens and after more instructions, finds her designated parking spot. Jimin parks the car, shutting the engine off as he unfastens himself to exit, making quick work of rounding to Kim’s side to open her door. He even offers her his hand.

She smiles at the gesture, gladly taking it to haul herself up and out of her seat.

“And here I thought chivalry was dead.”

Jimin shrugs, “Guess I’m pretty old-fashioned.”

Kim tilts back with a bubbly laugh, swaying too much to where Jimin had to hold her hand a little more firmly to keep her from tipping back and falling over. In doing so though, Kim laces her fingers through his and brings herself closer, pressing up against his chest and forcing him to tilt his head down in order to look her in the face.

“I had a really great time tonight Julien.” Her voice rasps, the proximity lets her lips brush slightly against his own whenever she speaks. “And thank you so much for driving me home when you didn’t have to….”

Ah, here it comes.

“Is there anything I can do? Get you an Uber or maybe….?”

Jimin can’t stifle the smirk that creeps up on his lips, amusement dancing in his dark eyes as he slowly turns the tables on Kim. He brings up their joined hands, only to release himself from her grip to press her back against her car, letting his freed hand cage her instead. She doesn’t resist, so pliant under Jimin’s manipulation that he swears she’s enjoying the attention she’s getting from him. Does she think that she’s got him right where she wanted?

Cute….but not quite.

No, right now, Jimin’s motives are far from aligning with Kim’s despite her thinking otherwise. His plan is simple; get her to invite him up to her apartment, maybe let her have her way for a bit before he puts her out, snoop around to his heart’s content and when he’s found what he needs, disappear like a shadow in the night and let a demon’s karma do its part.

So he takes the bait.

“I think that whiskey is starting to get into my head a little….”

And that’s all Kim needs.

In a fitting whirlwind romance (Jimin uses that term very ironically), the steps of his plans were enacted and Kim is out like a light before she could even finish unbuttoning his shirt — using pressure points is one way to spice things up in the bedroom he supposes. A lot of other demons would give Jimin flak for not indulging in some added bonus fun while on a ‘hunt’ but he’s a demon of taste, and there’s something else hot and steamy that he’s after.

With Kim knocked out into a deep sleep, it makes for rifling through her stuff easy as pie. In the darkness of her room, he spies numerous amounts of name brand clothing strewn about on her dresser and floor. On the handle of her door and even by the foot of her bed, there were bags of different sizes, shapes and colour. Everything seems so disorganized and just thrown about that Jimin thinks the only clean space is her queen size bed and to a certain degree, vanity table which is where he heads towards as he spots her MacBook. It sits asleep on the counter surrounded by various bottles of perfume and lipsticks, organized by colour and brand.

He wastes no time opening the laptop, bypassing her password with ease, immediately diving into the most recent folders. It doesn’t take long for Jimin to start finding some….interesting things. First off was a folder, simply named ‘E-Pics’ that was dedicated to, of all things, concert e-tickets. There were around five of them, all from two shows that had played recently in the city. Jimin doesn’t recognize the names of the artist but he thinks it’s rather strange for someone to have saved pictures of e-tickets when there’s an app for that. Was Kim a secretly sentimental type of person….?

Highly unlikely, Jimin thinks so he continues digging, clicking away until….

A slow smile hooks at the corner of his mouth as his eyes scan over these newly discovered files. At a glance, they look exactly like the tickets in the previous folder but when Jimin fiddles around with the image a bit more, he spots the alterations in them, hidden in plain sight.

Forgery, and good enough that Jimin’s mildly impressed. If they had a course in college for that, he would’ve believed Kim would graduate at the top of her class.

This new information sends a newfound thrum of giddiness running through him and he wonders gleefully what other incriminating things Kim is hiding in other places. Perhaps her phone? Without a second thought, he closes the laptop and then heads out of her room.

He slinks out into Kim’s open space apartment with soundless footsteps. It’s on the small side and not much goes into these spaces other than her bedroom. There was an attempt though, hints of times Jimin could imagine the young woman would spontaneously have in trying to decorate her home from the colour coordinated throw cushions. It’s like she tried to go for a colour scheme but then quickly realized that she’d rather invest in her money in name brand handbags and shoes.

He picks one of them up on the couch; her clutch from tonight tossed aside carelessly in favour of trying to ravish him as soon as they made it through the doorway. Pretty thing, but the worth of the clutch doesn’t interest him so much as what’s inside it and reaching in, he easily pulls out her mobile phone. It lights up as soon as he hits the home button but when he goes to bypass her lock, he hesitates.

Blaring in his face is the time — 2:43AM.

Was it really that late already? The phone lays momentarily forgotten in his hand as he wonders how he hadn’t noticed the time flying by so fast. Unconsciously, he furrows his brows as another thought crosses his mind.

You should be home by now….right? Wait, you had a closing shift today didn’t you?

Shit.

Jimin reaches a hand into his pocket to pull out his own phone, bringing up your message thread to not find a single peep from you since your open house visit with Jaehee. Of course you wouldn’t, he knows you — stubborn as a mule and he swears if you had gotten stabbed, you would convince yourself that it’s not that serious only because you wouldn’t want to trouble anyone.

….Shit.

His hand travels to linger over his chest as if it had a mind of its own as his becomes completely lost in thought. Jimin didn’t feel any disturbances or distress that usually comes when your emotions flare, so it should mean that you were okay. But what are the possibilities that you simply didn’t have the time to react, too caught off guard to call out to him if you needed help?

Jimin exhales heavily through his nose in frustration, a hand combing through his hair as he glances down at Kim’s phone to see a few more minutes have passed and that now he had a choice to make; continue his search here for more information to blackmail Kim or abandon that possibility altogether. Fingers tap idly as the demon weighs his options and the more he stares at the phone, the more his mind screams at him to take just one peek, she’s fine.

….

Damn it.

He shoves Kim’s phone and all it’s garish pink glittery case glory back into her clutch before flinging it back onto the couch as if it were a dollar store pencil case. With long strides, he heads to the door but instead of going through it, he feels the familiar tug of apparating to another location and he finds himself at the head of your street. It’s relatively quiet when his senses readjust to his surroundings, the only sounds he picks up are the faint chirps of crickets and the occasional passing of a car way down at the other end of the road. He doesn’t see you nor anyone for that matter and he’s not sure whether that’s a good sign or a bad one. Still, he holds out on the belief that you’ve made it home all right.

So methodically, Jimin stalks forward, dark eyes narrowed to scan even the darkest corners for anything that might seem amiss, things that ordinary human beings don’t see. When he doesn’t pick up anything that raises any concerns, he makes another leap in location and this time, he ends up directly in your bedroom. The soft carpeted floor helps muffle his black Chelsea boots as he lands, but his attention immediately goes to your bed and without meaning to, he sighs, a tenseness he wasn’t even aware of dissipating from within him.

He sees the clear outline of your form under the covers, the rhythmic rise and fall of your breathing as you slumber and as he steps closer, almost feels the warmth of your body. The tops of your head just pokes out from where its rests on your pillow, hair spilling over messily but overall, you do not appear hurt. But as he continues to assess you, he notices the way you’ve curled in on yourself in spite of not having any shortage of room on your mattress, making you appear small and clutched to your chest was your beloved plush cat. Its face is squished by how hard you hold it against yourself but nevertheless, its cartoonish cat smile still peeked through its distorted face.

There’s a twinge that erupts in his chest, so sudden that he exhales sharply out of surprise. He reaches a hand up to his chest again, brows furrowed, where his heart beats and wonders in mild disbelief if something was wrong with it. Its never done something like that before, the only thing coming close was when you felt intense fear or anger. But you’re sound asleep, as quiet as a mouse. He stands there for a good minute trying to decipher this anomaly before he huffs, tearing his gaze away from you as he runs a hand through his hair frustrated.

Maybe he’d just imagined it, or there’s a glitch with this vessel. Either way, he pushes it to the back of his mind, focusing his attention to your discarded phone at the ends of your bed. He chortles under his breath, shaking his head — what is he going to do with you? Grabbing the phone, he gently places it on your bedside table (where it belongs) and settles himself into your desk chair, eyes sliding shut in a semi-meditative state. He’s lost out on one curiosity for the night, but at least the satisfaction of this one has made up for it.

You wake with an ache in your lower back that leaves you taking an extra fifteen minutes just to get out of bed without groaning or joints cracking. Doesn’t help that your phone goes off incessantly with messages from your friends wishing you a happy birthday. You smile to yourself though, thanking them each and even commenting how you woke up with a sore back, really feeling the aging kick in already.

Eventually, you drag yourself to the bathroom in a half daze and even after washing up you feel like you want to lie back down again, the comforter looks so invitingly warm still. But you resist the urge, knowing well that if you do give in, you’ll not get back up and that’s not something you want to do before going to your shift later on in the day.

What you didn’t know when you stepped into the kitchen is that it was already occupied by a certain demon that you had expected to see last night but didn’t. You visibly jerk at his appearance, taken aback at how casual he looks leaning against the counter, a mug of black coffee resting in his hand as he scrolls through his phone, the natural light of the afternoon sun highlighting the strands of hair falling in messy coordination over his forehead in a newly dyed ashen brown colour. The level of nonchalant coolness that he so effortlessly exudes is infuriating the more you stare at him because it’s so not fair for him to look this good, in fact, the only reason why he’s able to look this good is because he’s wearing another attractive person’s face but what’s really bullshit is that he’s still able to make your heart trip over itself when he’s only just pretending!

“You know you’ll see yourself to an early grave if you wake up already stressed like that darling.”

And the nerve!

You scoff, brushing past him to grab your own mug for a morning (technically afternoon now) tea. You move about to get your teabag, sugar and cream, all the while something starts to fester inside of you, instantly souring whatever good mood you had earlier. It leaves you slowly feeling irritated, restless and its not because of your earlier grievances with the demon. No, you know it’s that old wound you’re trying to stubbornly ignore from last night until the early hours of morning and it seems like now, in the presence of its cause, it's begun to itch again. Doesn’t help that when you glance over at your guardian demon, he’s busy once again with his phone, typing away and just the barest hint of a smile on his face. You scowl before you can help yourself, turning away to angrily sip on your tea in hopes of letting the warm liquid calm you down — it doesn’t. So you resort to placing down your mug, deciding on making peanut butter toast in order to distract yourself, even if you weren’t particularly hungry for it.

“Why so quiet cherub?”

You shoot him a look but brush off your underlying annoyance with an indifferent shrug, going back to opening the fridge to grab bread. “Just tired.” He shifts his weight from one hip to the other when you pull out a slice to pop into the toaster and you fight your hardest to ignore his eyes on you.

“Got home late from your shift…?”

The mention of last night pricks a nerve in you and you nearly throw the bag of bread back into the fridge with an unnecessary amount of force, only holding back by opting to grip the handle of the fridge until your hands are straining instead. You draw in a heaving breath under your nose as you slam the fridge door shut, not trusting yourself in speaking because you won’t be able to keep the seething out of your words. So you choose to hum — a short and clipped sound.

You hear the toaster spring up and you’re bustling about again in order to ignore him. In doing so, you miss the way he’s still watching you and the faint curl of his lips. Oh how tempting you look to tease, his natural instincts threatening to overtake him and he actually gives in to some experimental prodding. Jimin sidles up to your side as you’re scraping generous amounts of peanut butter onto your toast and his proximity catches your attention briefly, eyes flitting to him before they stubbornly fixate back onto your task. He cocks his head at you but you refuse to acknowledge him and it makes his smile creep wider. Then, he decides to lean in, past your comfort zone until you’re hunching your shoulders up, no longer able to keep him bay with how he’s literally breathing down your neck.

“What do you want?” You snap, stepping back to distance yourself. He only gives you a Cheshire grin in return, making you bristle.

“Just say you missed me darling and I’ll make it up to you I promise.” His teasing lilt drifts through the small kitchen and you blanche, screwing the lid of the peanut butter jar violently back on.

“I think you need to get your head out of your ass.” You retort through gritted teeth. He throws his head back to laugh, clearly amused and unfazed by your sour mood. When you swiftly turn on your heels away from him to toss the butter knife into the sink, toast shoved into your mouth, he steps in front of you, almost causing you to bump into him. You glower, a passing thought of wanting to smear the excess peanut butter into his stupidly expensive Saint Laurent t-shirt but he’s caught your hand in his like he’s read your mind.

“Don’t be such a sourpuss cherub, you could’ve called me if you wanted to see me that badly.”

Your cheeks redden traitorously at the suggestion, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his pillowy lips and you have no choice but to tear your toast from your mouth with your free hand to chew on a piece unless you wanted to choke, mumbling incoherently and refusing to make eye contact. As you try to pull your other hand away from him, his grip tightens a fraction to hold you in place but at this point, you’re quickly growing tired of this mental game. You honestly don’t know yourself why you’re choosing to be so petty when Jimin didn’t even violate the contract of keeping you out of harms way because there was no harm to begin with. God, what are you doing….

Your shoulders slump, drained as you deflate and your sudden withdrawal takes even Jimin by surprise.

“It’s fine Jimin; I got home alright so just forget it.” This time, your hand slips away from his easily and he lets you slink by him after depositing the dirtied knife into the sink. Even after you’ve pattered off into your room again, Jimin remains in the kitchen, silently watching you go, that peculiar twinge coming back again.

“Julien?….Julien?”

He blinks, knocked out of his stupor but he recovers so seamlessly that it’s as if he hadn’t been spacing out at all. Jimin turns his gaze back to the girl in front of him then, a benign smile gracing his handsome features.

“Sorry, I just had a thought…. You were saying Kim?”

The pretty brunette giggles breathlessly. “I was just saying how you have an impressive….recovery rate but I feel like I might’ve spoken too soon. Anyways,” She places her coffee cup back down on the saucer, “who am I to talk when I passed out on you last night — again, I’m so sorry about that.”

Subtly, Jimin’s jaw ticks though he conceals it with another smile and a carefully placed hand. “Not at all Kim, though at the time it was worrisome…. Like you just died on me.”

That pulls another bout of giggles from Kim, “Oh, it’ll take more than that. I’ll make it up to you I promise.” She throws in a playful wink to which Jimin accepts in feigned interest.

“I look forward to it.”

The rest of the ‘date’ is too boring for Jimin to recall as he spends most of his time drowning Kim’s ramblings and more focused on how he’s going to get her drunk again so he could rifle through her phone, get what he needs and then let karma do its thing. But more over, his thoughts keep straying back to you. You’re probably at work right now, an afternoon shift that had started maybe an hour or so after he’d left the house although he knows for sure you don’t close today which means he doesn’t have to worry about getting too carried away with this little project of his but at this rate, he doesn’t think he can bear a moment longer with this bland, materialistic woman any—

“Oh my God, is it already that time?”

His monotonous hum comes out automatically in response before the words can register but as soon as they do, his eyes finally focus on Kim for the first time in an hour. She’s scrolling through her phone, brows furrowed in concentration and then furiously typing away on it. Jimin’s curiosity piques with a raised eyebrow and he leans over the table in between them.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh no, it’s just…” Kim’s struggles with focusing on Jimin while still trying to do whatever it is on her phone that’s got her so frantic. Her body rises as if to get up and it makes Jimin follow suit. She shoots him an apologetic look, glancing down one last time at her phone and Jimin barely catches a glimpse of a countdown. “There’s something really important I have to do.”

“Oh, what is it if I may ask?”

“There’s a concert happening soon and I really want to get tickets for.”

Oh?

A serpentine smile pulls at the corners of his lips and Jimin’s eyes seem to come to life — now she’s speaking his language. He draws his face in to play the part; concerned and eager to help.

“Oh really? Are they hard to get?”

She takes the bait beautifully, rolling her eyes with a ragged sigh as she settles back into her chair. “Oh my God, you have no idea. It’s like winning the lottery I swear.”

“Wow, sounds impossible….” Jimin comments offhandedly, lowering himself back into his seat again. “Maybe I could…help?”

Kim perks up at the idea, the hopeful gleam in her eyes palpable that it nearly makes Jimin snort. She chews on her bottom lip, conflicted and right when Jimin’s about to sway her into temptation, her eyes meet the ticking timer on her phone browser reaching to t-minus three minutes. It’s enough to make her hasty decision and Kim wastes no time instructing Jimin to take his phone out, download the appropriate app and search for the show that she so desperately wants to get tickets for — enough to seal her fate with a demon out of her own volition at that!

So you could only imagine the surprise Jimin had when her directed search lands on—

“Love Yourself Tour? By BTS?”

“Yes that one.”

Seven hells there was no way.

Oh this was just too good.

The laughter starts bubbling rapidly in his chest, so much so that when he tries to lower his head to quell it it doesn’t work. It ruptures into a chuckle, shoulders shaking and before he knew it, he’s sinking back into his chair, head thrown back and a poor attempt to cover up the sounds of his cackling with his hand over his mouth. No doubt the entire cafe has eyes on their table but Jimin doesn’t care because his sides are killing him and he’s about to cry literal tears from trying to reel himself in — he only succeeds in folding in on himself and emitting occasional squeaks.

When he rights himself finally, wiping away at the corners of his eyes he catches sight of Kim who’s giving him a look that nearly sends him into another fit again. He barely manages by clearing his throat and glancing away, breathing deeply before answering her unspoken question.

“Sorry, just— I’ve actually heard of them before so it explains why it’s so hard to get tickets for their show.”

Kim’s face breaks into a smile, still nonplussed by his outburst but nodding in solidarity. “Yeah, so if you manage to get tickets — good ones — I might just think you’re a God.”

Satan, this girl might actually kill him instead.

He waves her off, cheeks aching and Jimin is actually thankful when the countdown on his phone reaches zero and Kim reverts back into a rather serious demeanour, eyes lasering in on her phone as she furiously taps away at it. She lets out a loud gasp within the next few minutes, causing Jimin to look up.

“I’m behind 105 people! I think I might be able to do this! What about you?”

With a quick glance, Jimin reads, “100.”

The brunette’s eyes alight instantly, mouth falling open. “Oh my God, you might actually get in!”

He shrugs in return, feigning indifference. Secretly, however, Jimin knows very well that his chances of getting these golden tickets were high — way higher than Kim’s and not just because he’s ahead of her by five people but more importantly…..

As the agonizing wait of watching the little man run at a glacier pace, Jimin takes the opportunity to strike up a conversation.

“So, I didn’t think you were a fan of BTS.”

Kim tears her away from her phone momentarily, the wrinkle in her nose is all the answer Jimin needs. “Oh no, I don’t even know them like that — I just heard they were a huge deal, like really popular right now.”

Jimin already figures because Kim would’ve at least recognized him or remarked on how eerily similar he looks to one of the band members but this is just a segue to what Jimin really wants to get at from her. “Oh, then why are you trying to get tickets for their show?”

He catches the way she swallows nervously, eyes flitting to him briefly and there’s that bout of hesitation again. The smile is back on his face, disarming and with just enough sincerity that it convinces Kim that he won't judge. She glances around as if to make sure they weren’t being heard in their little booth corner before leaning towards him, voice coming out in a hush.

“Okay so, me and a friend have been doing this thing on the side where we buy tickets to really high demand shows and reselling them for higher prices. It’s honestly such good money when you come across big name artists that have crazy huge fanbases — like BTS.” She pauses to look down at her phone, keeping track of her little running man. “My friend got two P1 tickets to their show last year for $250 each and she resold them for $1,110, each!”

Jimin leans back as if impressed, throwing in a low whistle for effect. “Wow — that’s…pretty good.”

“I know right? The only problem is is that they’re so hard to get. Even though the average seats will still bring in good money, you get way better profit with GA or P1 seats.”

He nods along, looking contemplative but Kim’s gone back to her phone once again, this time, looking rather excited. It makes Jimin turn back to his own as well too and lo and behold, they’re finally in.

“Okay Julien just pick two tickets and do a run search for best seating until you find a pair. When you do, buy them because literally trying to find anything better would just mean you won’t get tickets at all. I'll owe you back the money afterwards.” Kim says it all in one breath, too into her own operation to notice the way the demon smirks and leisurely taps away as she had instructed him to do.

After what felt like hours of nail-biting suspense (on Kim’s end, Jimin had ordered himself a cappuccino in between that time), she finally pulls away with an exasperated groan.

“Damn it, I only managed to snag P3 tickets. Did you have any luck?”

He takes the time to uncross his legs, showing her the screen of his phone and grins boyishly when her eyes balks at what she reads.

“Two GA tickets?!” Kim almost screams it before she catches herself, slapping a hand over her mouth and ducking her head. When she’s sure no ones comes over to kick them out of the cafe for being a disturbance, she practically rounds on Jimin with unbidden elation. “Oh my God Julien! You’re amazing!” Her hands moves faster than her own words as she hastily pulls up her email. “You can send them over to me through my email. Honestly thank you so much for your help Julien, I’ll treat you to dinner tonight.”

When he makes no move to do as she says, Kim finally focuses on Jimin and her smile falters slightly. Jimin tilts his head almost too innocently, withdrawing his phone to blink wide, dark eyes at the brunette.

“What, did you think I was really going to hand these tickets over so easily after telling me all of that?”

He sees the way his words were not something Kim expected but she tries to play it off with a forced laugh. “You’re so funny Julien. Okay, how much?”

“$1,120.” A pause. “Each.”

She laughs again, the sound shrill and her face contorts into a mask of hollow mirth. Jimin watches on, only the barest of smiles ghosting his lips but he doesn’t join in on the joke. Well, not like there is one to begin with and Kim quickly realizes that as she calms down, all traces of a smile however fake, gone. Disbelief takes over her and that’s what almost makes Jimin laugh — he can literally see all the preconceptions she had of him disappear from her eyes. But he’s ever so charming; an amalgamation of soft and sharp, boyish and manly, chivalrous and a cunning wickedness underneath it all.

So it’s no surprise that he hasn’t completely lost her yet.

Kim takes the time to regard him, trying to gauge him and what’s going on in that pretty head of his only to come away, stumped. She’s contemplative, arms crossed before suddenly she cocks her head a little to one side, mouth tugging upwards into a half scoff, half smirk like she can’t believe Jimin’s about to try and play her at her own game.

“I’m gonna be honest — I never would’ve thought you would have the guts to do that.” She admits after a while, leaning back into her seat. “Usually all the guys I date would do whatever I ask them because they want to try and impress me.”

Figures.

Jimin didn’t need her to tell him that to know.

“But then again, I don't think you’re not quite like the other guys I’ve ever dated before.” Kim adds, voice dropping into a huskier tone right at the end. He goads her on, his expression darkens with the slightest hints of a promise she can’t refuse.

“Then how about I show what you’re missing out on?”

The sultry way in which he says it sends shivers down her spine, no doubt this new side she’s not aware of that could come from a face like his has her wanting more. With one last bite of her lip, she bites the bullet too.

“$1,000 each.”

“$1,115.”

“$1,100 each — And I’ll pay it in cash, only,” Jimin’s parted mouth stops halfway, his words falling short as Kim stops him with a coy smile. “We split it on some good dinner and Moet to celebrate tonight.”

Slowly, plush lips quirk upwards as an incredulous exhale escapes the demon; he hates to admit it, but Kim’s got spunk and unwittingly she’s been doing a good job at entertaining him. For a second, he considers, toys with the idea — she’s the perfect type to fuck around with, to string along on a wild and impulsive ride that would’ve involved a lot of money, sex, perhaps drugs until it left her breathless, addicted and drained to the very last penny. He would wrap her around his fingers so tightly, she would think it’s him that was under her spell. And right at the peak of it all, he would leave, disappear from her life as if he were nothing more than a self-indulgent dream she’d dreamt up, only for reality to come crashing down on her hard and the rest would’ve been history.

Tempting….

But…

He’s already been down that road, had more than his fair share of leaving women broken in more than one ways, tires of this game because no matter the centuries he’s lived in —

“Alright, how about we meet at The Red Muse later in the evening? You can take the time to go doll yourself up for me and we’ll go to town with this, yes?”

Kim grins, absolutely vibrating from his proposal as she bites her lower lip in an attempt to quell the salacious smile stretching her lips.

“Deal.”

They never learn.

Soon after, Jimin leaves to go off his separate ways with no particular plan in mind. He’s got a lot of time to kill before meeting Kim and he’s not particularly interested in seeking out another easy target to influence — he doesn’t get paid nearly enough to be working overtime. Jimin eventually settles on heading to his favourite upscale bar (one that even with Kim’s caliber couldn’t dream of affording) to do a bit of pregaming. As he was nursing a glass of single malt whiskey, the demon is interrupted by probably the only other thorn on his side.

“I suppose some things don’t end up changing after all.”

“I’m offended you would ever think there’s a time where I’ve lost an ounce of class at all.”

Silence.

Jimin’s gaze whips to the younger demon who’s thin lips are slightly downturned in disagreement, eyes rolled to the far corner with the recalling of some fabricated memory.

“Well there was that one time — “

“Shut it if you don’t want me to singe off that face you’re so proud of.”

Jungkook snickers, eyes crinkling up as if Jimin had just made a joke instead of a threat. The older demon rolls his eyes, waving down the bartender for another refill of his drink in hopes of numbing the headache he feels creeping up on him, only to have the younger obnoxiously steal his glass for a sip once he does.

“Still, I would’ve thought you’d be off lurking around poppet like a shadow right about now.” Jungkook comments offhandedly, wrinkling his nose when the hard liquor rolls down his throat. His momentary distraction lets Jimin swipe his drink back.

“I’m not her personal caretaker, and as long as she’s looking both ways before crossing the street, she’ll be fine.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s skepticism bleeds through. “Last I checked, poppet was pretty down in the dumps about the concert thing — swear she could conjure a cloud above her head at the rate she’s going.”

His statement causes Jimin to straighten up a bit, thoughts spinning for a few seconds before coming to a conclusion. A slow smirk makes its way onto his lips, barely contained over the rim of his glass. Jimin doesn’t need to look over to know that Jungkook’s probably blinking big doe eyes at him, gauging his reaction but Jimin’s onto him, already knows what he’s after, so he’s going to drag this out until the younger is losing his mind.

“She’ll be fine.” He replies indifferently and that already leaves Jungkook feeling miffed.

“Wow…that’s….” The younger starts, struggling to find words for this unexpected blasé attitude. “Surprisingly cold of you.”

Jimin shrugs, unconcerned about it all and as he continues to sip on his whiskey, leaving Jungkook to become visibly more and more antsy. He shifts in his seat, like a little kid who can’t keep still.

“So, you’re just gonna….leave her like that?”

“She’s already accepted that she’s not going so what’s there to do?”

“Well — !” Jungkook doesn’t know how to proceed, face pinched into one of utter confusion and it’s difficult to keep a straight face on when Jimin can literally see him questioning everything he believed up until this point. He continues to flounder for words, on the cusp of saying something but then stopping himself. It goes on for a few more minutes before Jungkook gives up with an exasperated huff. “So much for being a guardian…”

“Exactly; I’m a guardian, not a miracle worker.”

The words slip so easily past his lips and he’s so thankful for Jungkook finally leaving him alone so that he can let out the loud, snorting laugh he’s been keeping in the entire time. He probably looks crazy but he really could care less, muttering under his breath about how he can’t believe the irony of it all. This entire ordeal with Kim turned out to be a way better investment than he had initially thought; it almost made him feel sorry for the poor girl he’s about to drop off at hell’s doorsteps.

Almost.

He downs the rest of his drink in one go, savouring the smokey whiskey taste as it leaves a pleasant burn when he swallows. He wonders idly what the sensation of being drunk is like, trying to compare it to any other feelings he must’ve felt in his lifetime….

Jimin’s thoughts continue to wander for quite some time, thinking about this and that until belatedly, he realizes that the appointed time to meet Kim had passed nearly more than two hours. When he checks his phone, there is no trace of a text from the girl in question, not even one berating him for being stood up. At this point, any sensible person would be rather concerned, alarmed even. They would immediately call to see if everything was alright but for Jimin, the thought never crosses his mind. He merely humphs, like this is all an inconvenience to him, downs the rest of his drink and gets up after paying.

It’s late when he steps out of the bar, the sun having long since set and the city is alight, teeming with people enjoying dinner on patios, heading out for events or just strolling the streets. Instead of joining in on the hubbub, he strides off with the intention of heading to a more…peaceful place. But first, he thinks, he might pay you a visit. After all, he’s got a pair of BTS tickets on hand and now with Kim going MIA, he figured they could be put to better use, like making you admit that you miss him when he’s gone.

Either way, he can’t wait to see the look on your face.

He makes it back to your place faster than he expected, body thrumming with a feeling that he swears can’t be from the alcohol he’s consumed but nonetheless welcomes anyways. He’s in such a good mood that he almost rings your doorbell, catching himself last minute. Jimin laughs to himself, maybe it really is the alcohol after all? He shrugs if off and apparates to your room, only to find that it’s empty of you. He double takes, making sure he hasn’t accidentally overlooked you in the darkness but nope, there’s no signs of you anywhere.

Maybe you were in the living room or kitchen?

Jimin pads on over to your door, carefully listening in case any one other than you might be out there as well. When he hears nothing, he phases through the walls. He’s a bit caught off guard for a moment at how dark everything is, as if no one was home. It wasn’t until he catches sight of the faint warm glow of the living room lamp does he spot you, sitting alone on the couch.

You lock eyes, dazed and blinking in surprise from clearly not expecting him. You think it’s all in your head, an illusion thought up in your inebriated state but then he steps forward into the light and suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by his sheer presence, breath catching in your throat as you swallow. The black jeans he’s wearing hugs the shape of his legs so well and with his shirt tucked in, the silver YSL buckle glinting in the light, it looks as if his legs just go on for days. He’s dressed so simply and you’re appraising him like you’re seeing him for the first time until now instead of earlier today, yet your initial thought doesn’t change at all — it’s not fair that he looks this good.

He stops just short of the couch, head cocking to one side with a subtle shift of the hips to lean his weight on one foot, dainty earrings twinkling as well as his dark eyes as they gaze at you. The mere gesture makes you huff out, agitated.

“Someone’s home early.” Your voice comes out more nasally sounding than Jimin remembers it and he chokes back a snort.

“Someone’s been drinking.” He teases back, nodding to the wine glass in your hand before shifting his sight to the coffee table in front of you, taking in the two bottles and the little 6-inch, half eaten cake. Another tilt of his head, this time he raises one shapely eyebrow too. “That, or you’ve had a really rough day.”

“Har. Har.” You say sarcastically, swirling your wine before taking another hardy sip. “I’m not that bougie or impulsive to get a whole cake to binge on myself — not yet at least.”

“Then….” Jimin stops to think, trying to come up with answers for the sudden appearance of the confectionery treat, only to come up with, “A celebration? Someone’s birthday? Jaehee’s?”

You giggle half-heartedly, downing the rest of your glass and Jimin is quick to pick up your lack of confirmation. Now he’s blinking owlishly in astonishment, stunned into brief silence until the words slip out in an uncharacteristically soft murmur, “It’s your birthday…”

“Ding ding ding.” You sing-song, leaning over to refill your glass. The effort of it makes you nearly tip over but you hold out, retrieving your drink and anchoring yourself back onto the couch again. You should probably stop right about now since the pounding in your head is making you both simultaneously nauseous and sleepy. Or at the very least, go back to pacing yourself better but that would mean risking getting into your feelings and you’d rather die of alcohol poisoning than get in your feelings. So you drink.

“Well,” You hear Jimin huff, “I’m rather hurt you didn’t invite me to the party cherub.”

You snort, letting your head loll onto the back of the couch and shutting your eyes, cradling your glass to your chest like it’s a lifeline. “Don’t worry, you didn’t miss out much — just me and Jaehee, t’s all. Well, Jaehee’s sleeping now….work tomorrow…”

You trail off, the sound of your heartbeat ringing loudly in your ears that it might as well be beating inside your head than in your chest right now. You’re trying really hard to steady it but it only seems to make your breathing sound more laboured and doing no help to subside the killer wine buzz you have. Maybe you really should stop drinking after all, put down the glass you’re holding and call it a night before you do something mortifying, like throw up all the birthday cake you ate in front of Jimin. No, no, that is absolutely not happening. It would be disgusting and totally not cute. But then what are you going to do with the wine you just poured?

So caught up in your own inner ramblings, you failed to notice the quiet, pensive look marring Jimin’s face; eyebrows furrowed and the slightest downturn of his lips as he too becomes lost in his own thoughts. Clearly, he didn’t prepare himself for any of this — not like it would matter because he didn’t think anything would happen when he waltzed into your living room anyways. The most he had expected was to poke his head in, tease you about how obviously mopey you are about not going to the concert even when you had already decided not to go before dramatically brandishing the tickets with the promise of giving it to you after you dance a little for him. Instead, he’s caught in a conundrum of his own emotions, a jumbled mess that of course, only you could cause because you seem to be doing that a lot lately.

You’ve just about made up your mind, convinced to siphon the poured wine back into the bottle and then take your ass to bed when you nearly vault out of your own skin as soon as your eyes open.

“Jesus Jimin! What’re you—“

“Let’s go.”

You sputter, taken aback from the declaration before you blurt out, “Wha- Now? W-Where?” Your voice cracking as you lean away from Jimin’s imposing figure suddenly hovering over you to the point where you’re practically at a ninety-degree angle to the couch. He inhales deeply, one hand tousling through his hair while the other rests on his hip. He turns away from you briefly, allowing you the time to watch him go at war with himself, utterly confused and wondering what brought on such a spontaneous suggestion because, now that you think about it, you don’t think Jimin has ever invited you to go out anywhere before….

He rounds on you again and you’re forced back out of your thoughts to stare wide eyed up at him as he gathers himself.

“It’s just— just somewhere nice….As a…birthday present.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, bewildered at what you hear. If you were any more sober, you’d swear that that was the most you’ve heard Jimin fumble with his words. It’s….cute. Your heart’s still beating too loudly in your ear for your liking, you’ve still got a pulsing headache and your eyes are slowly becoming a little blurred, yet you still had the inkling thought of agreeing to go along with Jimin’s plan because how can you say no when he looks like that?

Well…. He might have to carry you but if he doesn’t mind then why the hell not?

You must’ve been staring for too long because Jimin starts to fidget in his spot, hand scratching the back of his neck. Oh, right; you gotta say yes you’re cool with it but might need some mobility assistance (this could get awkward).

“Uh…Well, that’s….cool. So like….where though?”

“That would ruin the surprise of it.” He laughs breathlessly and the sound itches to pull a smile on your own face.

“Do we gotta drive?”

“No driving cherub, you don’t even have a license.”

“Hey…I resent that.” You huff, limply pointing an accusatory finger at him before dropping your arm with a heavy thump. “So we walkin’? Cuz I’m telling ya now I can’t walk.”

“Clearly.” Jimin gracefully moves over towards your prone form again and with a dramatic sigh, he offers a hand to you. “C’mon get up, I’ll carry you.”

You blink hard, not believing your ears or luck. Here you thought you were gonna have to prostrate yourself to get him to carry you but he’s offering it willingly. Your heart squeezes inappropriately because this is touching you way more than it should and it’s probably showing on your face because Jimin gives you a weird look.

“Don’t make this weird, let’s just go before I change my mind.”

You only respond by holding out both your arms in the same manner a toddler wants to be picked up by their mother. Jimin exhales loudly through his nose, biting his bottom lip in order to school his face. When he’s composed himself again, he grabs onto you and hauls you up with effortless strength. Without meaning to, you fall against his broad chest with a yelp, clutching his biceps for dear life and trying very hard to stop your vision from swimming.

“You good cherub?” You hear him ask and even through your mantra of ‘don’t throw up’, you can still hear the restrained amusement seeping through.

“Just…Give me a sec.”

He gives you that courtesy, patiently waiting while holding you up from your unsteady legs, inhaling and exhaling until you think you’ve got most of your bearings back. You finally straighten, pulling back enough to be able to look up at him but when you do, you start to feel self-conscious. You probably look like a mess as much as you feel like one, or at least standing so close to Jimin you do. You’re still wearing your bare minimum ‘work clothes’ from earlier today that consists of a t-shirt you’ve had since high school and a pair of black yoga pants that has more or less faded to a dark grey from all the washes its been through.

“Ready?” Jimin asks, voice low that it gives off a slightly gravelly tone and pleasantly washes over you. You always liked the sound of his voice, could listen to him talk forever but it’s so soothing that it never fails to lull to sleep every time. When you swallow, mustering a nod of your head, he shifts you in his arms to have you looping yours around his neck and shoulder, startling you and igniting a heat that travels from the ends of your toes all the way up to your face. You immediately avert your gaze to your sock clad feet.

“Just hold onto me and,” He pauses, shooting you a roguish smirk. “You might want to close your eyes.”

That’s all the warning you get before you feel a pull so strong the air gets knocked out of you. All at once, you feel weightless with no sense of what’s up or down and instinctively, you huddle closer to the only other body mass that will indefinitely ensure you won’t fly away but before you can even emit a single shout, the powerful force vanishes and you feel solid ground.

“You can open your eyes now.” You feel Jimin’s chuckle rather than hear it and it takes you a whole hot second to realize you’ve actually had your eyes shut the entire time; when that happened you have no idea. Slowly, your eyes peel open as you release a shuddering breath, your senses having yet to fully catch up with you. They start to when you finally realize you’ve got a faceful of Jimin’s shirt, having practically squished into his chest, so much so that when you inhale you get a whiff of his cologne. It’s so subtle and almost undetectable but with you being this close, it overtakes you with ease. Next, your skin prickles as you feel a gentle breeze pass by, caressing the loose strands of your hair and tickling your cheeks and nose before finally you hear…. The humming of cars driving through the city with the occasional honks and sirens echoing off into the distant.

Wait, why do they sound so far away? Like…you’re above it all?

You flinch, alarmed and when you turn your head to look around you, your legs nearly give out. It’s only thanks to Jimin, who you’re still clutching onto with a vice grip that keeps you upright as you gaze out at the city horizon, illuminated by the multitudes of lights coming from the windows of buildings in front of you that stretch out as far as you can see. You double take, not believing if what you’re seeing is actually real until you feel Jimin move which makes you snap your bleary gaze up to him, searching for answers. He lets out a melodic laugh when he sees your expression.

“Never seen the city at night like this before huh?”

You could only open and close your mouth, gaping like a fish out of water as you look from him to the skyscrapers in front of you. Eventually, you gather enough courage to tentatively step away from Jimin since you’ve stepped foot onto this roof, but at the the first wave of vertigo, you instinctively sink down on your knees and remain fixed there. You must look ridiculous but like hell do you trust yourself right now to walk around on the flat roof of 6-story building with a system full of alcohol. Still, it doesn’t stop you from taking in the sights before you. It’s a clear night, not a single cloud lining the sky which leaves it so much more clear and vast, and with the glow from the lights below, you see the rich deep blues that peek through, reminding you of the depths of the open ocean. The view is beautiful and mesmerizing, like something you’d only see on the back of a postcard or in movies. You hadn’t noticed you’ve been swivelling around in your spot, head craned upwards in an attempt to take everything in until your world tilts once you’ve stopped long enough. You catch yourself on time from tipping over completely, hands shooting out as your heart leaps into your throat and you let out a shaky giggle.

“Slow down cherub, you’ll lose your head that way.” Jimin chides playfully, coming down to sit beside you. “If you think this is a view, wait till you get closer to the edge.”

“Oh ho ho, no, no, no.” You laugh, holding up a finger. “I refuse to go anywhere near it. Here is just fine.”

A snort, “I’ll catch you if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

You smile, “I had expect you to anyways.” And after a brief pause, you add quietly with your eyes fixated onto the city. “It’s still pretty — real pretty.”

You don’t catch the way he smiles softly in turn, the both of you lapsing into a companionable silence as you watch the city life continue to flow along. The ambient noise lets your mind drift freely, almost in a meditative state.

“This is nice.” You think aloud though your voice barely comes above a murmur, “Just watching the world go by like this, not having much to think on. Is this where you usually go off to when you’re not causing trouble?”

You side eye Jimin and hear him release air through his nose. “I’m much less of a menace than you think you know, but yes, I do come out here when I want to get away for a bit.”

You nod in understanding, letting your gaze wander over the landscape in front of you once more. You’re not sure what part of the city you’re in right now but you could imagine it being downtown, the faint bustling of traffic if you listen closely enough carrying over the gentle breeze and it doesn’t take much to picture the people down below, enjoying their night out in town with friends or families over dinner, a drink, or just by themselves, heading out or heading home. From the buildings, sometimes you catch the flicker of a light going out only for another one to come on in a different spot and you begin to wonder the lives these people might have.

��I wish I could stay up here.” You say, suddenly feeling melancholy. “Get away from it all too….”

Tired, you lean back until you’re lying down with your arms behind your head, facing towards the sky. Even from this high up and the sky as clear as it is, you don’t see a single star glimmering and you think it’s a pity; this would’ve been a perfect night to see them.

“It must be nice to be someone like you.” You continue to muse, “Not having to worry about insignificant mortal problems, like time or money…..”

You don’t hear a response from him and for a moment, you think he’s not even listening. It’s only when you think about backtracking do you hear his reply.

“Yeah, it’s kinda great when you start off but when you’ve been doing it for as long as I have….” He sighs, “It’s not what it’s cooked up to be….”

“Is it because it gets lonely?”

“More like boring…”

You laugh quietly under your breath, thinking to yourself that it’s so like him to think that; it’s evidence enough with him being here. Then another thought crosses your mind and you ask, “Do you think God judges you on the time you spend on earth?”

“….What makes you think that?” Jimin asks, sounding genuinely confused but also curious. You shrug, examining your nails listlessly.

“I saw it in a movie once. Apparently, when you die you go through seven levels of hell and each one has a trial you have to pass if you want to get reincarnated. If you fail one of the trials, you spend the rest of eternity getting punished there — one of them being called the Hell of Indolence, where they judge you on how well you’ve spent your time on earth and if they deem you’ve whiled away your life in laziness and inaction, you’ll be punished by running on a spinning disk while a spinning stone windmill chases you.”

“Sounds like a weekend on spring break.”

The wheeze comes out without you meaning to and you throw your hand out to the side to give him a reprimanding smack, trying to subdue your laughter. As usual, it hits his thigh but you’re too caught up in his punchline to care.

“I’m serious Jimin.” You say after collecting yourself. “It might’ve been fiction….Or maybe it really is real at this point who knows, but it really made me think — what if I had to go through those trials, like,” You take a moment, picturing the scene you’ve seen in the movie, imagining yourself before those trials, “how awful would it be to get told by a deity that you’ve basically failed at your life and you don’t deserve to get a second chance? Because you’ve done nothing with it….”

“….Do you think you would be told that?”

He knows it’s a loaded question, could hear the morose way in which you speak about life, death and the beyond, things he’s most familiar with. To him, it all means nothing but to you, it’s something that hangs above your head as a constant reminder that your time here is limited and it’s so precarious that it could end before you know it. He watches you shrug, too caught up in staring at the starless sky to notice.

“….Maybe….A small part of me does, and that’s what scares me.” You admit in a small voice. “Every year I feel like I haven’t moved forward at all with my life, just stuck doing the same thing while everyone else is getting that job they always wanted, traveling the world, getting engaged, doing what they love….” A humourless laugh expels along with the breath you exhale. “I don’t even know what I want to do beyond tomorrow, much less in two years… ten years from now? And it’s like any day, I’ll be left behind….”

The confession spills from you with unadulterated honesty, the most honest you’ve ever been in forever, it surprises even yourself. You think it’s the alcohol talking but you also think it’s mixed in conjunction with the coming of your birthday; another year tacked onto your life and along with it, the painstaking realization that time is passing by you way faster than you had fooled yourself to think otherwise. It’s something you’re not prepared to face.

Or ever will be.

So that’s why you choose to run, push it back to the farthest corners of your mind and even as it festers and grows, you vehemently ignore it. You drown yourself in school and work, meaningless distractions that lead to no self-satisfaction. It’s something to fill your time, nothing more or less. In those time, you yearned for an escape and that’s how you found your way through music, had found voices that called out to you with comforting words and made the uncertainties of the future seem less daunting.

“You won’t be left behind.”

His voice pierces above the white noise of the city below, clear as day even when it comes out no more than a quiet rasp. It rips you out from wallowing in the thoughts that you keep in the darker parts of your mind, almost startling you. Jimin’s eyes are locked on the horizon in front of him, even as you crane your neck up, you can’t discern any expression on his face but it seems you don’t need to as his words were more than enough to make up for it.

“If God judges you on your time spent on earth, then it is time where you’ve truly done nothing in the face of being able to do something.” Jimin says, unwavering. “And you’ve done something — have been doing something, because you’re somewhere different than where you were two years….ten years ago.

Life is many things darling, and everyone is too caught up with other people’s versions of it half the time. So even if you don’t know where you’re going, I think you owe it to yourself to at least make yours about you because no one else will.”

He finally turns his head to face you and if you thought you had trouble suppressing the swell of emotions in your chest before, you sure are screwed now. The lights of the buildings around you cast a warm glow to his profile, letting you see the slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips, the curve of his cheek that has you itching to stroke just to see if they’re as soft as they look, and the wispy way the strands of hair falls over his forehead, shorter than you had remembered; you wonder idly if he had it cut (it looks good). He’s beautiful — heartbreakingly so, like a statue carved in the finest of ivory but in that moment, it’s his eyes that makes your heart ache.

Endless pools of the deepest amber that hold so much history, seen so much history, perhaps the worst of mankind. They know of suffering, of loss, of betrayals and deceit, had even been the cause of them. You see the many emotions that had been reflected in those eyes, like gazing at an iridescent gem — pain, hatred, sadness, regret and at times, simply nothing at all. Time has both wisened and jaded them, but it is not a hardened glare that meets your own.

It’s tenderness.

“I know it may not seem like it, but if it’s worth anything,” Though it is only the two of you on this rooftop, he speaks in a way where he’s about to tell you the secrets to the world, something that only he wants you to hear and no one else. He takes a breath, never breaking your gaze as he says, “I think you’re doing just fine cherub, I really mean it.”

It’s so self-assured, so sincere, like he truly does believe in what he says that you think you don’t deserve this kind of faith, but perhaps it’s because he’s the one who said it that you find yourself believing it too.

A small smile breaks out onto your lips for the first time in a while. “You’re not saying that just because it’s my birthday right?” You tease in hopes to swallow past the lump that’s formed in your throat but your voice comes out sounding tight regardless. If Jimin notices, he doesn’t comment, instead shoots his own smile back at you, lips stretched until the tiniest hints of teeth are showing and eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that I’ve seen some shit as a demon who’s lived way longer than you’ve been on earth. Besides,” He turns back to the city view before him, leisurely reclining back so that he leans his weight on his hands placed behind him. “No place worth going has any shortcuts and those that do would most likely lead to hell.”

You chuff a laugh with a shake of your head, turning your gaze back towards the dark sky that is still void of any stars. This time, you don’t mind that there aren’t because if not tonight, then maybe another night you’ll be able to see one.

And a part of you hopes it’ll be with him too.

“Thank you.” You say softly. “For everything until now…”

“….Don’t mention it cherub.”

It’s a heartfelt thanks that echoes in the quiet night, a rare display of vulnerability from you and shockingly, from himself. Even if your confession was acted upon by liquid courage, he knows that it had been something that weighed heavily on your mind for who knows how long but now, you’ve finally calmed that turmoil that threatens to break you and however temporary it may be, you’re genuinely grateful to have confided in him and walk away with a lighter heart.

It’s gratitude that he’s more than happy to revel in, if only it didn’t sound like this would be the first and last time.

“What time is it?” You ask, voice breaking through Jimin’s troubling thoughts and he belatedly reaches into his pocket to check his phone. You don’t see the way he raises an eyebrow at all the missed calls he’s got.

“Almost four.” He says, swiping away the notifications to clear the screen before his fingers tap away to pull up an app.

“Oh wow,” You breathe, getting up with a stretch. “Think we should head back? I’m definitely ready for bed.”

“When are you not?” Jimin snorts, “Is the age catching up to you already?”

“Stop, my back was killing me when I woke up today too.” You retort through a smile. You give your neck a roll and another stretch of your arms from having laid on a hard surface for a long period. Just when you’re about to muster up the strength to finally stand, Jimin stops you.

“There’s one more thing I have to show you.”

That catches your attention, whipping your eyes to him in mild surprise. He doesn’t have to — whatever it is that he has planned because this was more than enough. And you’re about to express that much when he suddenly shoves his phone into your face, startling you. You have to blink a couple of times in order to adjust to the brightness of the screen but when you do —

“What is this?” You dare to ask, heart beating quicker without meaning to as your eyes scan over the words, reading and then re-reading them but failing to register them all the same. Your eyes dart to Jimin who watches in quiet amusement from beside you, searching for any sort of answers for what you’re seeing.

“What does it look like?”

You’re left speechless and the only thing you could do is glance back and forth between the phone and Jimin, shaking your head in disbelief while trying to formulate words to your mess of thoughts.

“I — I don’t understand. How…?”

“….Guess you can call it a little demonic miracle of my own…” He says it as a light-hearted joke but unconsciously he brings a hand up to run through his hair, suddenly feeling bashful. Well, not like he could help it when you’re staring at him with wide, sparkly eyes. When he can’t handle your Bambi eyes any longer, he hurriedly blurts out the words you dare not speak yourself into existence for fear that it’s all just one hell of a good dream. “I got you tickets to go see BTS in the next city over alright?”

“But what about—?”

“I’ll take care of it all, don't worry about it.”

“Jimin that’s—!”

“Cherub, do you want to go or not?”

“I-I do! It’s just—“

“Then you’re going, no ifs, ands, or buts.” Jimin says it with finality, stern and in a way where you know he’ll ship you in a box if he has to. With no room left for arguing, you’re reduced to an overwhelming mess of emotion that has you struggling to contain it, leaving your hands to shake instead. Your quietness concerns Jimin for a minute before he lets out a grunt in surprise as he abruptly finds himself at the other end of your body slamming hug. He goes rigid, not knowing what to do with his hands as he lets you wrap yourself around him in a rather snug embrace that he thinks he can actually feel how fast your heart is beating against his chest. Or is that perhaps…his own?

“Thank you.” Your voice comes out as a hush warble against his ears. Two words and yet the amount of happiness Jimin hears coming from it is palpable, it makes him think that this is the happiest he’s ever seen you. He softens at that, tentatively wrapping his own arms around your waist to hold you steady and he thinks it’s nice to hold you for once without the context of having escaped a rather sticky situation beforehand.

And there it is again, that wretched twinge in his chest only this time it’s so obtrusive that he can no longer brush it off or ignore it. It comes with a realization of many things, but among them was something that he never would’ve expected to ever come into terms with, shocking him like an ice cold plunge in the middle of winter.

That as both a powerful demon and as a decent but temporary guardian, this is the extent of happiness that he'll ever be able to give you.

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