#i need to draw for that last chapter and i also want to maybe organise a foa big bang . in like jan?

[gncrezan]

you are objectively correct. foa is amazing. thank you for introducing me to this Masterpiece. it feels like a warm hug playing it.

IS IT NOT JUST!!!!!! foa just sticks out to me as being a comforting game, just because it feels so loving towards its 'outcast' cast, who are all so incredible!!!! the kindness they show towards the pc, and how eventually the pc slowly joins their chosen family !!!! it's got a very lovely slowburn element to it too, and the ending feels earned, but still open to what's next !!!!!!!!!!!! i need foa 2 fr and i'm so glad that i got you to play it omg <3 :)

[cosmichorrorlesbians]

new Silt Verses ep was so incredibly good and there's so much to talk about but I keep coming back to Sibling Rane.

I think Jon and Muna do a great job of making even minor characters feel distinctive and resonant with the main cast, and the disciples of the various faiths are one of the places this shows most strongly. The disciples of the Trawlerman are the people Faulkner has made himself responsible for and as early as Chapter 22 a thread develops that many of them are naïve, and young, and almost comedically earnest.

And yet, at the same time, these 'children' are part of-- at the forefront of, even-- Faulkner's acquistion of power within the Parish. In the same episode, Thurrocks accurately articulates both the depth of the faith they have in him and the result to which it is already leading.

So. Young members of the faith as (at least superficially) earnestly artless and yet having a dangerously fervent power of belief. Rane, when we meet them in Chapter 30, seems like another genuine and ardent neophyte.

They're eager and conscientious and I half expected them (like Jasp) to last less than two episodes. But they become a quiet background voice to Faulkner's downward spiral. They take on administrative tasks, attending to Roemont when he visits the Gulch, and-- increasingly-- becoming an emotional and social anchor for Faulkner as he slides into depression.

Rane doesn't seem to be a born diplomat. Earnest. Naïve. Clumsy. But I think that ambiguity the stage directions draw out is interesting. Is Rane really so ingenuous? Are they 'pretend[ing]'? They've taken on so much responsibility for the faith, smoothing over awkwardnesses, arranging things in the background, organising transport and supplies while Faulkner broods. Is it earnest? Pragmatic? Both?

I think it's very easy to read Rane as having unreciprocated romantic feelings towards Faulkner. I certainly do. Their devotion shades into excess, and in the moments where the pair seem to engage almost as equals, like the car ride in Chapter 38, there's this real sense of simultaneous shared joy and an underlying desire on Rane's part to 'get Faulkner's attention' and prove themself worthy of it. To impress him.

This Chapter sees Faulkner experience a dark night of the soul. He's already depressed to the point of suicidal ideation, detached from his surroundings and utterly anhedonic. He's clearly not equipped to acknowledge or accept love from others, romantic or platonic. This episode is about caring for someone who is fundamentally disconnected from you, who will never see things the way you do but must be loved and kept safe nonetheless. It's also where Rane saves Faulkner's life.

Rane, acting as caretaker, quietly reverses the established power dynamic of their relationship. Faulkner's attempted drowning directly parallels his childhood experience of conversion as recounted in Series 1. He becomes the lost, frightened child in their dynamic.

This speech obviously underlines Faulkner's insecurities, his youth, and the validity of his prophetic status as "chosen". We know he's engineered and manipulated his own glorification.

But it also draws attention to how Rane acts as a parallel to Faulkner. Faulkner, when we first meet him, seems precisely this enthusiastic if inept younger disciple. 'Was I like that?' he asks himself about Thurrocks. Maybe he was once. Because we see the same kind of darkness surface in Rane. As Faulkner clearly no longer cares if he lives or dies, they take on more and more of the unspoken burden of leadership.

They 'stage-manage'. They become the structural surety at the heart of the myth of Faulkner, putting in his hard work, handing him his kelp wreath, shoring up his crumbling facade. They recognise the gap between what he is and what his people want him to be, what they need him to be.

'It will be different when it's written'. Did Faulkner trip, or was he shoved? Does it even matter? We don't truly know whether Rane has taken the wheel as the endgoal of some Machiavellian scheme, or as a decision of pure pragmatism motivated by their faithful zeal, or out of desperate, genuine, self-deluding care for Faulkner, but is it important?

Faulkner isn’t just made up of Faulkner any more. Rane is being quietly assimilated into his legend. 'When it's written', I doubt they'll be much more than a footnote in his story. But I would also dispute whether High Prophet Faulkner isn't substantially a creation of unnoticed, unappreciated Sibling Rane.

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ The harsh daily life - Welcome to Aurora ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Part 4 - The harsh daily life

Summary : Finally having found the perfect job for you on the ship, a new mistery arose. The name of a mysterious woman slipping past the sleeping captains lips.

Pairing : Pirate! Hongjoong x Fem! Reader

Word count : 1883 Words

Genre : Genre : Fluff, Romance, Slow Burn

Warnings ➵ None??

a/n : Still so sorry for not posting this last week! Just been rly caught of with my exam this week and also just overall being stressed by school! I'll tr to write next 2 or 3 chapters this weekend tho so I got a lil puffer for the next weeks!♡

《 Masterlist 》

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

Your day wasn't over after the quick meal you had with Wooyoung and Seonghwa. Right now you were sitting in the crows nest with Wooyoung, him explaining his job to you, you were quit glad that you were with Wooyoung right now and didn't had to train with Jongho again.

"I'm glad that you decided to tag along with us, it's gonna be a lot of fun." You were just as glad as Wooyoung, was he the one you should be the most thankful to, he was the one to help you stay on this ship, with this crew.

"What did you want to tell me while we were eating? About the captain?" Curiosity getting the better of you like always, now looking at Wooyoung who shifts a bit uncomfortably by your question. "I can't tell you, Seonghwa was right, it's Hongjoongs secret, either he tells you himself or you won't know, I'm sorry." His answer made you pout slightly but you could also understand, you probably wouldn't want your secrets spilled out to everyone either. "It's okay, maybe I will know someday." Looking out of the crows nest again, you look to the horizon where the sea meets the sky. It's still not late, maybe the middle of the day, the sun was standing high above the two of you, making it quit hot up in the crows nest.

"Hey Wooyoung! Mind giving away the princess for a bit?" Mingis voice was heard suddenly, looking up at the two of you with a smile on his face. "Sure! See you later." Wooyoung tells you, as you make your way town carefully, Mingi still staying at the bottom of the net, in case you needed help or need to be caught im case you slipped. "Thank you for agreeing to helping me, I really need the help. You can read right?" Mingi asks, following him into the captains cabin, Hongjoong not in sight. With a yes to his question, Mingi gets out a box from a cabinet and pulls up a second chair. "I'm in charge of keeping the maps organised and also having a protocol of the kingdoms and islands we visited by now." Mingi explains, sitting down on Hongjoongs chair, he probably did this in his room, as it had the biggest desk and also wouldn't have any disturbances. "You can sort the maps alphabetical for now." Mingi explains, getting out a pencil to start drawing on the map, probably adding islands they recently discovered.

Now sorting the maps, you sometimes look at the few books on the desk, on each one of them was written the word 'Ateez' and Aurora, looking up at Mingi now you speak up again, : "On the books, the word Ateez, what is that?" Immediately after finishing your sentence Mingi let's out a chuckle, laying down his pencil. "You are currently on the ship Aurora with the crew Ateez, Ateez is our Crew name." Mingi explains to you, before going back to sketching the map.

After a while the door opens and closes, in walks the captain, taking of his coat and hat and laying down on his bed, eyeing the two of you.

"Is she good help Mingi?" The captain speaks up now, closing his eyes, your eyes stay fixated on the maps you were sorting though. "Definitely, it was getting a bit to much for myself, so I'm glad for her help." He praises you, making a smile appear on your face. "I see, well don't be to loud please, I want to take a nap." Putting his hat over his face now, the captain trys to fall asleep, while you and Mingi go on with your work.

After probably two hours you and Mingi finished, standing up and leaving the room carefully so you won't wake up the captain.

"You seem to get along with everyone quit fine, it's nice to see that you're getting used to being on here." Mingi talks while walking around the deck with you, nodding when someone greets the both of you. "Everyone is quit nice, so it's really easy to adapt to the crew and get used to them." A nod was seen from Mingi as you two continue your little stroll along the ship. "Just wishing everyone would start to call me by my name, Y/N, and not princess, I'm not a princess anymore." Explaining this to Mingi, he send a sympathetic glance towards you. "You just have to tell us and we will gladly call you that Y/N." A relieved sigh leaves your lips, hoping that all of them would call you that soon.

"But you can't expect all of us to call you that, you're the princess of our crew now, isn't that right Wooyoung?" San smirks, while approaching you and Mingi, Wooyoung following and speaking up now, : "You're right, she'll stay the princess of this ship." Rolling your eyes slightly, you still couldn't suppress a laugh. "That's okay then, as long as you two still know my name." Now it was the turn of the two man to laugh, telling you they would never forget your name ever.

After talking with the three man a while, Seonghwa soon approaches you with two plates in his hands, by now the sun was starting to go down, painting the sky and sea in a beautiful orange and pink sky.

"You should eat enough, tomorrow the training will continue." Handing you the plate, Seonghwa sits down on the railing, followed by you.

"San told me about a few of the memebers, how long have the others been here?" Seonghwa looks your way now, laying his fork down on his plate. "Me and Hongjoong started this, a small boat, we ran away from our homes and never returned. Yunho joined us shortly after that, a few other man joining too, the ship always getting bigger to have more place. Yeosang and Wooyoung joined us together, we found them stranded on an island, no one knowing where they're from or who their family is. San is a runaway, like me and Hongjoong, that's why we took him in, we saw ourselves in him. Mingi joined shortly after him, his father was a knight, but he didn't want to live that life, so he joined us. Jongho has been here the shortest, he sneaked onto our ship one night and the next after we sat sail we found him, Hongjoong was mad I tell you, but after noticing his abilitys he made him part of the main crew quickly." Glancing at you a few times, you take the information in. It was quit a lot of information to take in.

"It's a lot of information I know, but everyone on this ship has their own story, past and secrets." At the word secrets you had to think back to Hongjoong, what secret did Wooyoung want to tell you.

"Eat up, the captain want's to have a little talk with you." Bidding his goodbye, Seonghwa takes his now empty plate and walks away, probably to bring it into the kitchen.

You finished quickly, bringing your plate away and making your way to the captains cabin, knocking once and then twice. It was quiet. So you slowly opened the door, walking in and closing the door again.

Hongjoong was layed on his bed, his hat still over his face, his right leg over the other one. Walking closer, you ask yourself if the captain was sleeping or awake and already noticed you.

Reaching out a hand hesitatingly, you take of the hat and to your surprise, was the captain still asleep. His eyes closes, just now did you notice his long lashes, his face for once looked soft and relaxed, much different to the either scowling or smirking face. Placing the hat on his desk, you walk over to him again reaching out again to wake him up, but stopping midway, as a word or more like, a name slips past his lips.

Jiwon

Confused you now place your hand on the captains shoulder, shaking him awake slightly. Said man opens his eyes and looks up at you, as he sits up with a groan and stretches his arms out.

"Seonghwa said you wanted to talk to me." You explain why you were disturbing the captains sleep, the female name however still on your mind. "Ah yes, I wanted to see how you're holding up, Mingi praised you a lot today and even Yunho was pleased with how fast you are learning." His voice sounded rough from sleep, as he now sits at the edge of his bed and starts putting on his boots again. "Ah I'm just glad and happy that I can be of help on this ship." Hongjoong glances your way shortly, before continuing to tie his boots. "You will be helping Mingi from now on, study our books and read some others too, you're one of the few people that can read, we need every help that we can get with the books." He now stands up, stretching again. You just agree and are now send out again, still wanting to know who that name belonged to and the best person to ask was Wooyoung.

Making your way over to the quarter deck where Wooyoung was leaning on the railing, talking to San.

"Wooyoung! Can I talk to you for a moment?" He send you a nod, guiding you further to the back of the quarter deck, asking you what you wanted to talk about.

"I have a question about the ship, did you ever have a woman called Jiwon on board?" As soon as Wooyoung heard that name, he went pale, looking around. "Where did you hear that name? No one is even allowed to mention that name!" Speaking in a hushed tone now, Wooyoung looks at you with furrowed brows and a serious look on his face. "Hongjoong was talking in his sleep when I wanted to wake him up." A slightly scared look on your face now, caused by his reaction. "Okay, you're not allowed to speak to anyone about that name do you understand me? No one. Tell no one that you heard that name, especially not the captain, got that?" Wooyoung makes sure to make you promise you this, which you did.

Of course his reaction to that name made the question mark in your head just grow bigger.

Who was that woman? Was she a crew member? Was the captain close to her? Where was she now?

Walking away from a visibly disturbed Wooyoung, you make your way to your room, a lot of the people already under the deck sleeping. Upon arriving in the room, you start to change into the dress shirt from Seonghwa again and lay down on the bed, facing the ceiling again, which was painted a night blue and had lots of stars painted on there.

This crew may be your new family, but you still didn't get a lot of their doings or opinions.

The most questionable one was definitely Hongjoong, followed by Jongho, even Wooyoung seemed weird after the last talk you had with him not long ago. Maybe you should just ignore and forget it for now, sooner or later you'll probably hear and understand their motives.

[gomzwrites]

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a/n: Im fERAL over Professor Price contents, and I NEED MORE- so here's my take, with a spin! >:)

Pairing: Professor John Price x fem!reader x Mr Simon Riley

Notes:

✎…Banner taken from Pinterest and edited, drawing done by @gomzdraws ✎…Reader's texts are in purple, indented text are memories ✎…Want to be added into a tag list? click here ✎…Part 1 (you're here!) is introduction, just me setting the scene for our reader and displaying the vibes from Price and Riley in this AU ✎…Part 2 is smut :) tags will be shown there but in short it is a slow build up ✎…Chocolate is just my thoughts, process, notes, recommendations and future planning for the series, I welcome discussions over there if you're interested :D

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➵ Part 1

You rubbed your eyes as you finished scribbling around your tablet, noting down the last important point of the lecture with a small yawn. Maybe staying up late and studying four chapters ahead was not a good idea after all. But you always study ahead because you take a longer time to understand and digest information. Not that you’re slow or anything, but sometimes the lecturers speak too fast or brush over some points that make you feel puzzled or confused, and that confusion often carries on to the next content, but feeling prepared for a lesson is also a good practice even if that is not the case.

"That will be all for today."

The statement elicited a few cheers and sighs from the students as Mr. Simon Riley, the lecturer in charge of the module today, ended the class. You liked his class because he was great at explaining everything, easily breaking down big chunks of information into small, digestible notes to see the entire picture. What you really like about him, though, is how he always offers to help out when you have any questions.

You glance back at him who was organising his papers on the podium, staring down from your seat as you take in the view. Well, other than the black mask he wore all the time, he is pretty built for a lecturer; perhaps he worked out a lot given how tight those sleeves clinched onto his arms.

You waited until most of the students left as you took your bags and walked up to him, with one tablet in hand and the notes you'd been making. You spoke to him politely after giving him a smile.

Good evening, Mr. Riley. Can I ask you a few questions about the lectures today?

Ah, y/n. Sure, how can I help you at this time?

You proceed to voice out your concerns as he nods and explains. You can feel him standing close to you by your side as you go on, catching a whiff of his cologne sometimes and blushing slightly when his hand brushes against your finger when he takes your stylus pen. You admit you have imagined him in some other ways.

Can you understand? 

He asks you as you glance back at him. Your words catch in your throat as you realise the close proximity; he was just a few inches away from your face, and you swear you would have been able to count the freckles on his pale face. 

A-ah, yes, yes... Thank you, sir. 

You replied back as calmly as you could before slowly turning away and saving your document. He gives a hum as a reply before he glances around and pats your head, like he always does whenever you answer him back, a small gesture that always sends butterflies in your stomach.

Good girl. You know where to find me if you have any more issues. 

Good girl. 

You give him a nod as you hurriedly make for the exit. You’d like to think he treats every student this way, giving praise and guiding them when needed. It’s not like you’re the only student he teaches in class; there are always a few girls who like to surround him sometimes. 

Girls, who, in your opinion, were much prettier than you. Pretty hair, pretty faces, and pretty voices with their pretty outfits that never seem to repeat every day. Meanwhile, you’re more on the formal mundane side, wearing a hoodie most of the time with a pair of black pants during casual lessons; if not, you often wear a white button-up and a long skirt like today. As long as it's comfortable and it's compliant with the university dress code, which, in your opinion, no one really follows, it's good enough for you because you don’t really fuss in terms of appearance; you just want to do well on your course. 

Yet, part of you still indulges in thinking that maybe he did treat you differently than other students. You collected every praise and "good job" handed out by him like a trophy; it also made you push yourself further, chasing after those achievements and scoring well in exams just to get a pat from him on the head or your shoulder, or if you’re lucky, sometimes you’ll get to see him smile without his mask on.

You stop for a moment as you walk past a window, noticing how flushed your cheeks have become from your own thoughts. You shake your head and adjust your hair before a voice catches your attention. 

Evening, y/n, just finished your class?

You look ahead to the source of the voice and give a bow as you nod. 

Ah, good evening, Professor Price. Yes, I just finished the last class of the day. 

He hummed as a reply as he walked closer to you, giving you a smile as you stared at him. He is also another lecturer who is great at what he is doing, though he is slightly more strict and intimidating than Mr. Riley. You wonder if it's because of his much rougher, deeper voice or the muttonchop that made him look older; not that you mind; if anything, he is incredibly dashing in your opinion. With the sway of his hips and his confident voice, sometimes you would get lost in his features in the class, distracting you in a sense.

How’s the assignment coming along? Still having difficulties with it? 

He stops before you and leans on the window with his arm crossed. You gulp when you remember that a few days ago you were asking him a bunch of questions in his office, to which he helped you out immensely, but there are still just a few concepts that you’re not very sure of. Sometimes, he’ll ask you a random question related to the project that, if you can't answer straight away, he’ll shake his head and flick your forehead. You whine every time, but he only chuckles and continues teaching, while calling you nicknames that melts your heart a little every time. 

If you can’t understand this simple concept, then it’ll be harder to grasp it in the next few chapters, darling. I know… but it still hurts. What a soft baby you are Hey, I'm not! 

You know that as annoying as he can be, he only wants the best for his students, so you still try hard every time on his modules, spending more effort just to impress him, to hear him chuckle and pat your back, and to feel the warmth of his hand on yours. 

Ah well- 

y/n! 

You get caught off guard as you look behind, curious as to who called for you and surprised to see Mr Riley jogging towards you and Prof Price. Both lecturers shared a glance in silence before Mr Riley glanced down at you and handed a book to you. 

You left this back at your desk.

Oh! I didn’t even notice... thank you. 

You take your notebook and smile at him, sliding it into your bag as you hear them speak. 

John.

It's good seeing you, Simon. 

You can’t help but feel like there is tension in the air as you look at them before clearing your throat as you awkwardly rub your neck. 

I- well, I guess I’ll get going. 

Not so fast-

Wait- 

Both of them reached out to grab your arm as you jolted slightly; their eyes widened as they, too, shared the same expression. Prof Price was the first to break contact as he let go and cleared his throat, with Mr. Riley following as he glanced away.

You were talking about the assignment. 

You give an "ah" as you snap your fingers. 

Oh right, actually, regarding that, I'm still not certain with the last few points, but I can send you a text on Team instead of taking your time-

No, it’s okay. My office like last time? 

Oh, are you sure? I really don't want to impart your schedule, sir. 

Im sure, darling. 

You stopped protesting as you nodded sheepishly. You watched from the corner of your eyes how Mr Riley was acting rather strangely; his fist curled up into a ball as he glared at Prof Price. You gently grab his sleeves as you tilt your head and stare at him with concern. 

Sir? 

You felt his breath hitch as he snapped his eyes back to you, his gaze softening as he sighs, pats your hand, and nods. You smiled when you saw his tense shoulders relaxed. Prof Price then starts walking to his office as you do the same, with Mr Riley following you close behind. 

I didn’t realise that this assignment was your business as well, Simon.

I may not be the module coordinator, but I’m well versed in the subject too, Professor. 

Once again, the tension returned as you nervously grabbed onto your bag strap, clearing your throat as you tried to stand between them, awkwardly bumping their chest as you gestured your hands in the air. 

E-erm, I wouldn't mind hearing a second opinion…?

You glanced at Prof Price innocently as he stared back at you with a frown while Mr Riley gave a huff of air and nod.  

Ah crap, now I'm pissed off the professor- 

Alright, fine, sure, if it means helping you.

Prof Price said with a groan as he opened the door and guided both of you into his office.

You took a seat on the mahogany office table that wass smaller than his main office desk, taking out your tablet and books as you asked Prof Price your questions. He takes a seat next to you as Mr. Riley does the same, effectively sandwiching you in between them.

You tried your hardest to calm down your heartbeat, praying the fast thumping against your chest and the bounce of your jugular vein were not as loud as you think. You really tried to keep it cool, but every single time they leaned closer, speaking directly into your ears, it made your skin twitch with goosebumps, and the way they took turns praising you when you get things right was making your head dizzy. You swallow hard as you listened and jotted down the notes and points both lecturers were sharing, hoping they don’t notice how your fingers are shaking slightly. 

But of course they noticed. Prof Price leans in as he whispers into your left ear, feeling his beard brushing against your skin. 

Are you alright, darling?

Meanwhile Mr Riley cups your hand as he rubs circles around your knuckles, staring at you as he too, also leans in and watches you with his hazelnut eyes, feeling his chest resting behind your arms.   

I-erm…y-yes… 

You sure? Your cheeks are pretty red. 

Mr. Riley says with a soft tone as he brings his hand and gently strokes a hair strand and tucks it behind your ear, brushing your cheek as you feel your neck burning up. You were about to say something before an arm snaked around your shoulder and pulled you away from him. You gasped when you rested against Prof Price’s shoulder. 

I don’t think it's appropriate to touch a student, Simon.

You’re the one to talk. 

Mr. Riley bit back with a growl as he grabbed your wrist and pulled your arm, causing you to wince slightly at the sudden force as you closed your eyes. 

H-hey erm- 

You called out as you stared back at them nervously, gulping as you watched them stare at you with an expression that sent shivers down your spine. It felt dangerous…but also….enticing. 

What….what’s going on?

You asked again with a shaky tone as they let go of you and sighed. You could tell there was hesitation in the air as Mr. Riley cleared his throat and spoke softly.

y/n…. 

He sucks in another breath as he rubs his neck, unsure and nervous. Prof Price rolls his eyes as he shakes his head and tilts your chin, giving you a sly smirk as he brushes his thumb. 

We’re just wondering…what your opinion is about us.

You blushed at the question as you held your breath, uncertain if you should be honest and confess right then and right now. You looked away shyly as you heard Mr. Riley chuckled, taking off his mask and placing it on the table as he started kissing your knuckles gently as he whispered softly. 

Come on, tell us...you think we don’t know the glances you give us during class? 

I…well- erm- 

You stuttered as you felt Prof Price’s hands slowly trailing down to your waist, resting them there as you felt his breath fanning against the nape of your neck. 

Getting shy of us now, are you? 

You let out a shaky exhale as you hid your face with your hands, unable to face them and be caught red-handed, muttering apologies as you tried to inch away from them. 

I-Im sorry I know I shouldn't-

Hey hey, look at me sweetheart. 

Simon cooed as he took your wrist and rubbed soothing circles on it, easing your nerves as his soft voice calms you down. 

We can stop…, I promise I wouldn’t mind.

Likewise here. I wouldn’t want to make my favourite student uncomfortable.

Real sly, she's mine old man-

Both men bickered around you and couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, making them focus on you again as you cleared your throat and replied meekly.

You are not making me uncomfortable, both of you, I mean... Im just… 

You start off slowly as you take a deep breath, before blinking a few more times as you let out a sigh. 

I just didn’t expect this, I suppose… 

You blushed at your own words as you stared at them through your lashes, watching them shift slightly in silence. 

But why me...?

You dare to ask as they share a glance, then smile back at you as Prof Price snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you close to his chest, while Mr Riley grabs your legs and rests them on his thigh, leaning in close as they caress your hands and face softly. 

We’ll show you why, would you like that darling? 

You nod slowly, heart brimming with anticipation as Prof Price taps your cheeks, angling your face towards him as you feel the deep rumble of his chest against your back.

Words baby. We need to be absolutely sure that you want this.

Just as much as we want you. 

Mr. Riley now hovers over you, and both men await your answer with hungry eyes.

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a/n: ah yes, Simon with dat juicy aSS- have yall seen his senpai skin? Im so not normal about it, anyways, comments and reblogs are always appreciated :]

➵ Part 2 | ➵ Chocolate

[your-divine-ribs]

Ice Cold Part 34

Words: 3k

I hope you guys don’t mind the Van-less chapters! He’ll be around soon enough but shit is about to go down for Lyla over the next few parts xxx

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

My heart thundered in my chest as I turned on to Sloane Street, pulling my coat collar up to shield me from the icy winter wind. The clear, crisp morning was deteriorating swiftly, the slate-grey sky full with the promise of heavy snowfall, unusual this early on in the season.

An image drifted across my mind. Seven year old me sitting huddled on my dad's lap, looking up at him keenly as he asked me what I was going to ask Santa Claus to bring me for Christmas. "A white Christmas of course Daddy! And I'm going to build the biggest snowman... much bigger than yours!"

"Ah pumpkin," he'd replied, affectionately tweaking my nose. "I don't think Santa's going to deliver on that one this year. Maybe next year though hey?"

True to my dad's word, the next winter Santa did bring snow. But my delight was short-lived. Two weeks after Christmas the Grim Reaper had also visited my family, cruelly snatching my father away, and with it my childlike wonder and innocence too.

I looked up at the leaden sky, saw a tiny flake start to spiral downwards through the air and watched its lazy descent to earth. It settled on the sleeve of my coat, a perfect crystalline star, and the sight made me hanker back to those days of my early childhood. Back then winter's first flurry of snow would have brought with it wide-eyed excitement, snow-ball fights and sledging, glowing cheeks and frost-nipped noses, woolly hats and curling up in my dad's lap with a steaming hot cup of cocoa. Now all it reminded me of was that fateful harsh winter that saw my dad get taken away from me.

I'd arrived early and the street was empty, and I pressed my back into the brickwork of the railway bridge, scanning my surroundings. Last time I'd been here was to meet Simon, and the horrific events of that day echoed in my head. I looked down at the pavement at my feet, picturing Simon's lifeless body, his eyes staring up at nothing, the gaping exit wound at his chest. It occurred to me then that if Paul really was the traitor then he would have been the one who orchestrated putting Simon into the organisation, his intelligence gathering just a ruse, the information he was passing on to the rest of the team simply a way of drawing us all into danger. Luring us in just enough so that whichever assassin was tasked with the hit could take a few agency lives at the same time. If it hadn't been Van I might well have been dead by now. Paul had even said so himself that it was like we were always one step behind. The step that he'd likely controlled. The thought lit an angry fire deep down in my gut as I stewed over the possible betrayal. I'd always thought that I was a good judge of character and trusted my instincts... until now. Now I didn't even know what to think.

My phone was in my back jeans pocket and although I was no longer being bombarded with calls it still vibrated from time to time. I didn't need to look at it to know that it would either be Paul or Van. Both desperate to find me, but their reasoning could be wildly different. Now I couldn't be sure that both wanted to preserve my life at all costs.

The faint rumble of an approaching car made me slip back into the shadows under the bridge. I pressed my back against the bricks, feeling my handgun pressing into my lower spine where it was concealed in the waistband of my jeans. I allowed myself a small peek down the road and saw a sleek red Porsche approaching.

'Slick bastard', I thought, and it brought to mind a comment that Jen had once made about the status symbols of expensive sports cars and how men used them to make up for certain areas of their anatomy that they were lacking in. It would have raised a smile if I wasn't so fearful about the meeting that I'd arranged.

The Porsche pulled up across the road and I slunk back into the shadows even further, trying to peer through the tinted windows to discern whether the person that I'd contacted had come alone. It was impossible to tell and my anxiety mounted. I was gripped with uncertainty, faltering even though I knew it was too late to go back. I watched as the driver's door opened and a large, tall figure stepped out and moved around the car, eyes scanning the area, immediately sighting me in my poorly hidden spot.

"Lyla..."

I had no choice then but to move forward and I did so hesitantly, eyes flicking all over as I did, taking everything in, reading the scene to try and pick up a potential threat.

"Sir... thanks for meeting me," I finally said, coming to a stop at the edge of the kerb, keeping the road in between us.

Charles Whitman held me in his gaze, his pale eyes full of a suspicion that I was surprised to see and I realised then that he was doing the same as me, weighing up the situation, trying to discern whether I was to be trusted.

"Have you come alone?" He said, his attention momentarily shifting behind me, scanning the murky depths under the railway bridge. It occurred to me then that maybe he was looking for Van and whether he thought the same as Alex had done.

I replied to him with his own question, nodding my answer as I did so, watched whilst he indicated that he was also on his own. A tense kind of stalemate then ensued, both of us wary, neither of us making a move.

Charles spoke first, pushing his glasses up his nose before his hand came to rest on his chin, stroking the stubble there. "Well... you asked me to come and meet you. Maybe you should start by telling me what the hell happened in London?"

I stiffened, feeling my gun pressing into my back, raising a hand to rest on my hip, close enough to grasp it in a flash if necessary. I ignored his question and fired off one of my own. "Why did you pull my off-duty back-up?"

Charles looked surprised, but a small smile curled his lips in barely concealed amusement. "It seems to me you're managing quite well without back-up."

"I was nearly fucking killed! It's no laughing matter!" I blurted out, stunned by his flippant reaction.

Any hint of a smile vanished instantly, replaced by his usual no-nonsense unemotional demeanour. "Oh I know, and I don't take this lightly, believe me when I say that. As director I have to make some tough calls. The agency's under a lot of pressure right now. Resources are stretched. Paul thought that taking you off the McCann case would give you a certain amount of security, so I made the decision."

I nodded slowly, not really surprised that he offered no sympathy. That was Charles all over. If the job had been done he wasn't worried about the means of execution or concern over whatever trauma might have been inflicted on me. All he cared about was results, and in this case the end product was a corpse and my heart was still beating so to him that equalled a triumph. End of story.

Charles leant back against his car, casual now like we were just two acquaintances passing the time of day. The same thin smile found its way back on to his lips as he spoke. "I must say, time and time again you impress me with your ability to get the job done, but your assailant at the hotel... I've already seen the crime scene photos. You dispatched him in a particularly... brutal fashion. There's going to have to be an inquest of course, but don't worry. You'll have my full backing."

I hadn't been able to bring myself to look at the body of my attacker before I'd left the hotel to catch my train, my already brittle state at the time barely holding it together, but Alex had filled me in when I'd called. I knew then that there were going to be difficult questions to answer. Despite my petite stature I was strong and had been trained by the best, but even so, the force it took to snap a full-grown man's neck would have been a challenge to me. That was the least concerning element though. The fact that the dead man was missing every single digit from his right hand wouldn't be quite so easy to explain away.

I straightened myself up to my full height, looking Charles straight in the eye, shrugging like I was barely affected. "He was a nasty bastard. I gave as good as I got."

As expected there was no judgement from Charles, he was straight to the point. "He appears to have been tortured... or interrogated. Tell me... what did you find out from him?"

His eyes narrowed and I knew it was pointless lying to him. Charles was shrewd and there was no pulling the wool over his eyes. And wasn't this why I'd called the meeting after all? A dangerous but necessary reaching out to someone who I hoped I could trust. What choice did I have? Walking into the agency vulnerable with no ally whatsoever was a suicide mission. I slid the hand that had been resting on my hip further back, hooked my fingers around the grip of my gun, ready to act swiftly had I made a gross error of judgement.

My thoughts went to Van and I pictured him hunched over the wheel of his car, knuckles white, speedometer pushing a perilous speed whilst he raced against the clock to get to me, but it was a race he'd never win.

Charles raised his eyebrows up, shifting where he stood, still reclined against the door of his car. The snowfall was heavy now, thick fluffy flakes laying down a carpet on the tarmac. I blinked them away when they collected on my lashes, took a deep breath before I said the words that might change everything for me.

"The organisation... they have someone in the agency. They have done for years."

Charles was still, frozen like a statue, his face not even cracking with a hint of emotion. I tensed, my fingers flexing around the cool metal, my breath fogging in frosty plumes in front of me.

An eternity seemed to pass whilst we both stood, eyes locked, the tension increasing. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, Charles to lurch for a concealed pistol maybe, or a look of horrified shock on his face. Certainly not this flat motionless stance like he was fully expecting my words. And when he did finally speak, my anxiety increased just as my grip on the gun did.

"I know..."

And then my breath was gone, snatched from my lungs in an instant whilst my mind tried to formulate my next move, my usual lightening fast actions dulled by my confusion. "But how..." was all I managed before Charles stepped forward, his hands outstretched but not in an aggressive manner.

"I've known for some time... well, I've suspected. But we can't make a move... not yet. I'm biding my time..."

My confusion was clearing now, the anger I'd felt before starting to trickle back. I released my grip on the gun, stepping forward into the road. "Biding your time? People are dying! How do you know? How long have you known? Do you know who it is?"

Charles sighed, dropping his head down slightly, a grimace twisting his features. "This is top level security clearance."

"Fuck security clearance!" I shouted, my voice bouncing off the underside of the bridge and ricocheting off the derelict buildings all around. "I have a right to know! This person... this... piece of shit... they betrayed my dad. I'm sure of it. I just know it. What are you waiting for?"

A flicker of something crossed Charles' face but then it was gone and he moved forward towards me, looming over me but not aggressively so. "It's not that simple. We can't move in yet. We need to wait for the right moment."

"Simon died! Scott died! How many more people before you move in? How many?" I fired the names at him to try and provoke a reaction. The anger and injustice was smouldering inside me, red hot lava looking for an escape. Years of frustration at not knowing and now the truth was close, tantalising so but being withheld. "You know who it is don't you? You fucking know! Give me a name... please!"

Charles' usual neutral countenance was strained, the burden of lives lost heavy even though he tried not to show it. He looked down at the fallen snow, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes screwed shut for a moment, but then his head was up, looking at me, sorrow mixed with something else that I couldn't place.

And that's when I knew. The fears that I'd had all along confirmed before the name had even left his lips. So I spoke it instead, and it caught in my throat like it was barbed.

"Paul... it's Paul isn't it?"

"I'm sorry Lyla. It certainly seems that way from the intel we have."

The knife that had been poised above my heart slid straight in, an anguish so deep I cried out. But the pain of betrayal turned swiftly to anger, so raw that it felt like another entity in my body, a part of me tearing away, lost to all rational thought. I wanted to scream and shout until my lungs were on fire. I wanted to rip and gouge and break and shatter. I wanted him dead... and I wanted to be the one to do it.

I went to push past Charles, making a grab for the door handle of his car but he blocked me and I practically bounced off his solid frame. I looked up, brushing my hair back which was now laden with fallen snow. "We need to go back to the agency. We can't let him get away with this. We have to go NOW!"

I was feeling energised, focussed, sharper than ever, the need to see justice done overpowering all other thoughts. Charles stepped aside and let me fling the passenger door open. I slipped into the car immediately, let him close the door behind me whilst I sank down into the leather seat.

I could barely see Charles outside the car the way the snow was now covering the windows, but after a short pause the driver's door opened and he slid in, turning to look at me sat there beside him, simmering with my fierce determination.

"I need you to listen to me now," he said carefully, the familiar authority now returning to his voice. "I know this has come as a shock to you and you're likely feeling angry..."

A loud snort burst from me that I had no control over. "Angry? That's an understatement!"

"Just listen to me!"

"Thirteen years I've been waiting for this moment!" I cried, not listening as instructed, my rage taking over, my fists clenched, my heart racing.

Charles shot out his hand towards the dash and it landed on the surface with a sharp smack which made me recoil. "Christ sakes Lyla... listen to me goddamn it!"

I did still then, checking myself, turning to fully face Charles, his face stony, his jaw set, his eyes harsh as they bored into me.

"We are not going back to the agency. Not now. I'm taking you to a safe house. I'm not having you storming in there and blowing this whole operation! There's so much more at stake here than you avenging your bloody father!"

His last line was spat with enough force to make me flinch, and I knew then that arguing was futile. And in any case Charles had already fired up the engine, swinging the car around in a wide arc as he manoeuvred ready to turn around and drive away. I was thrown forward in the seat and reached up to grab the seatbelt.

"Sir... please... you don't understand..."

My words trailed off as my phone vibrated for the first time since Charles had showed up. This time I reached around into my pocket, shifting forward in my seat, surreptitiously checking the screen even though Charles's eyes were fixed firmly on the road. He was too busy chuntering about the weather, ignoring my objections whilst he opened his driver's seat window to knock the snow off that had gathered there.

It was Van.

Christ, how I needed him now. I stared helplessly at the screen, my heart tormented knowing he was on the other end of the line and I couldn't connect to him. So near yet so far at the same time.

And then before I could react, Charles grabbed my phone in one swift movement and I gasped, watching on in abject horror as he tossed it through the open window like it was a piece of rubbish.

"What the fuck?" I shouted, scrabbling at the door handle to find that I couldn't open it. "STOP! Stop the fucking car!"

Charles just grunted in frustration, accelerating even faster as we gunned out of the junction at the end of the road.

"Fucking hell... don't you know that anyone can track your phone? This is agency 101 stuff. Have you forgotten your training? I said I was taking you to a safe house. You won't need it."

And that was it. My hopes of contacting Van shattered just like my phone left on the road in pieces behind.

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song ii.

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

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

pairing; kim seokjin x reader  au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual smut, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, things are heating up! the phrase ‘dilf dick’ gets thrown around way too much, RJ and taehyung cameo, hoseok, yoongi and namjoon are mentioned, as well as jungkook if you squint words; 12,169

↪︎ chapter index

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

After Seokjin dropped you off at the station, he and Arin waving you goodbye, it would be two weeks later when you saw him again. Not that you were holding out on it or anything… No way… That would be ludicrous.  

The last week of school was always hectic, activities and games top priority now that teaching had come to a standstill. The children were hyper, the teacher’s worn out, but without fail you always looked forward to the summer fate. Head of the committee every year, you and a handful of your fellow teachers organised each game, each stall and each prize. As well as wanting the children to have fun, it was also an opportunity to celebrate their achievements throughout the year with their families. There were an arrange of awards for most subjects, third through to first place for each grade, and this year you’d convinced the principal, Mr. Jung, to include a new creative writing award. It wasn’t technically a subject – you already had the spelling bee for English class, but he’d thought it was a great idea to celebrate the students’ talents in a brand new way. 

Of course, there was one child you had in mind when you’d gone to him with the idea – Arin. It was only fair in your eyes, she’d been with you not even three months and hadn’t had a chance like the other kids. The other awards were spoken for but you wanted her to at least get something, just so first grade could end on a good note for her and help her look forward to September. 

You were at the entrance of the fate, in casual conversation with Mrs. Jeon as well as greeting the students’ families, when you caught a glimpse of Seokjin. He was hand in hand with Arin who skipped happily beside him. He was wearing a sea green thin sweater, that blew in the light breeze, and black jeans. He was even in sneakers. Way more unbelievable than the slippers. He looked effortlessly good, and you thought you preferred him like this, casually dressed. The suits were great yes, but he looked far more attainable like this. Not that you wanted to attain him. 

Damn it. 

You tried your best to ignore the strange heat that had seemed to settle in your chest at the sight of him, the faintest flurry of what could only be described as butterflies aggravating your stomach. What the hell? What was wrong with you? 

“Hello, Miss.” Arin grinned, giving you a small wave, and you shook yourself out of it. 

“Hi, Arin,” you waved back, of course catching Seokjin’s eyes in the process. 

“Miss. Y/L/N,” he greeted, the hint of a smirk across his mouth. Teasing, again. Two could play at that game. 

“Mr. Kim,” you replied, unable to keep a straight face – especially when you heard him laugh as he passed by you. 

You watched him walk off, secretly pleased now that you knew he was here. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, wouldn’t dare tell anyone, but you’d been hoping he’d be free to attend the fate. To see Arin receive her reward, of course – nothing else. But, okay, maybe you had spent an embarrassingly long time choosing which dress to wear last night. Not that you wanted to impress him, more like… stand out. 

“Who is he?” Mrs. Jeon whispered animatedly – hopefully out of earshot and once again knocking some sense back into you. 

You tried to sound casual, like you weren’t aware of Seokjin’s jaw-dropping good looks – or more so, that they didn’t affect you whatsoever. “A student’s father.”

She made a noise of disbelief. “He is just pure… sex on legs.”

“Eunbi!” You exclaimed, taken by such surprise you used her first name. She burst out laughing, something you couldn’t ignore and ended up in a fit of giggles yourself. 

“Behave.” You warned, trying to compose yourself. “You’re a married woman.” You’d attended her wedding last summer, bringing along Soojung as your plus one. 

“Looking is still allowed,” she replied, making you both explode into laughter once again. 

You were giddy. Really, what was up with you?

.

.

The afternoon was a success, the children and their families enjoying immensely, as well as the teachers. It was your job to announce the creative writing reward and it was so heart-warming to see how happy it made Arin to come first place. She held her little trophy and movie theatre vouchers proudly for the camera, Seokjin looking just as over the moon as her. Mr. Jung convinced him to join for a few snaps and you looked on with a polite smile. Other than earlier and a thank you as you passed the prize to Arin, those had been your only interactions with Seokjin for the day and now the fate was drawing to a close. You wouldn’t say you were disappointed, because that would be preposterous, but if those were going to be your only exchanges then it made the times he’d fleeted into your mind these past couple of weeks highly embarrassing… 

It wasn’t as if you wanted to think about him, he just kept popping up. First you blamed Soojung, who wouldn’t shut up about Mr. Dilf for a few days after the exchange at his house (mansion), but soon the topic bored her, no new developments to keep her hooked. You on the other hand found yourself imagining instances where you’d bump into one another again. You know, happenstances… Like if he had the time to drop Arin off at school, although you doubted he’d end up in the staff parking lot again… You’d had a good giggle to yourself remembering his face when he’d realised. 

Other incidents were less realistic, like maybe he’d drop off a thank you present the students liked to gift to say goodbye, or maybe you’d bump into him at the grocery store, the park – highly improbable, but you found yourself thinking all these things when you were procrastinating or trying to get to sleep. 

Even now as you tried to win a prize at the Ring Toss stall – don’t ask how much money you’d already spent – (obviously using your free time wisely before you were needed again), you found yourself disappointed that things hadn’t worked out quite like you’d imagined today. You were being stupid. The guy was supposed to annoy the heck out of you, yet here you were unable to stop thinking about him. It had been a long time since a man had gotten you this distracted. A really long time… 

“Can I help?”

You jumped at the sound of Seokjin’s voice, granted you were in deep concentration, about to launch the hoop, but you felt like you’d been caught doing something wrong. As if he knew you’d been thinking about him, caught you in the act. You whipped your head up, forcing yourself to relax and smile. 

“I’ve been watching you try to win for the past ten minutes.” He chuckled. Great. How embarrassing. He stepped closer. “What do you have your eyes so set on?”

Oh, god. Even more embarrassing. You had a split second to make a decision. Be truthful or lie and choose something else. You know what, who cared? You were thirty and still loved stuffed animals. It wasn’t out of the ordinary. 

“The alpaca.” You pointed to the white fluffy animal sat on the top shelf. With his cute round face and a red scarf wrapped around his neck, he was adorable and you really wanted him. 

Seokjin wasn’t fazed at all. “He’s cute. I’ll try but don’t get your hopes up, okay?” 

You nodded and handed him the hoops. He needed to loop all three around the skittles. You watched him with anticipation, thinking to yourself this definitely wasn’t one of your fantasies, but you liked it regardless. Liked it even better when Seokjin managed to win. 

“Thank you, Seokjin,” you smiled, his name still feeling strange to say aloud. The man in charge of the game passed you your new ‘pet’ and you held it fondly, unable to stop yourself. Your landlord didn’t allow animals so you’d had to improvise over the years. You’d never had an alpaca before, but you were sure he’d fit right in. 

“No problem, I’m glad I could be of service.” He chuckled. 

There was a silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable but it was new. You were so used to Seokjin joking about you were expecting him to take the lead. Today he was quiet, actually right now he looked pretty awkward. 

You opened your mouth to ask him how he was when you suddenly realised something. How stupid of you. You’d been so distracted by the stuffed animal you hadn’t realised a little certain someone was missing. “Where’s Arin?”

“She’s playing with a friend and their family.” You watched him scratch the back of his neck, looking at you, but not really making eye contact. “Y/N, do you maybe want to take a walk? We could find some where to sit and talk?”

“About what?” You could’ve kicked yourself. Why did you have to ask that? You were just a little dazed from hearing him say your name again. 

“Uh, just about Arin really.” 

You didn’t really know what you’d been expecting so any answer would’ve surprised you, but you nodded, taking him up on the offer. “Okay.” 

You knew a bench away from the fate but still on school grounds, and you walked side by side, noticing just how tall and broad he was. His shoulders looked unbelievable in that sweater, and it hugged his chest perfectly when the light breeze of the afternoon hit him, his well-built chest visible. Not that you were staring or anything, you just happened to notice… 

You small talked along the way. Not much, mostly about the fate, but it was enough for you to hit your destination without any awkward silence. You wracked your brains as you sat, wondering what he had to say about Arin. Maybe he wanted to discuss her stories more, thank you for the prize she’d won. What you did know though, was that his cologne really did smell amazing. It was woody, maybe spicy, and just plain addicting. This close proximity was wreaking havoc with you again. You sat the alpaca between you both on bench, acting as a barrier for your sanity. 

Seokjin patted its head absentmindedly before he side-eyed you, that amused smile you’d become familiar with upturning the corners of his mouth. “You seem a lot less scrappy today.”

You raised both eyebrows, thrown for a moment. “Scrappy?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, “a lot less intimidating.” 

You? Intimidating? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? The sheer power of Seokjin’s brow line alone could bring a person to quivering knees, and that wasn’t mentioning the obvious, like you know, his face. However, he seemed genuine enough. You didn’t really consider yourself feisty, but then again, when pushed to your limits maybe something just snapped inside of you. You had powers you weren’t aware of, obviously. Better own them then…

You gave a small shrug, smirking slightly. “Maybe I’ve chosen to forgive and forget.” 

He chuckled again, genuinely amused, but you sensed some reluctance his end, a slight awkwardness. Was he stalling? You suddenly grew a little nervous. The dynamics you’d grown somewhat used to during your last few encounters had shifted without you knowing. Seokjin was a lot less teasing today. How come? 

“So,” you pressed carefully, unable to handle the anticipation. “What was it you wanted to say?” 

He lifted his head up, warm eyes meeting yours and your insides did that flurrying thing again. Your imagination hadn’t concocted this. When he smiled you realised how kind it was – how kind it could be when he wasn’t being infuriating. “I just want to thank you.” 

Your eyes widened before you could control the surprise. “Thank me?” 

He nodded, relaxing a little now, pressing his back into the bench. “For being such an amazing teacher to Arin these past couple of months.” 

Of course, Arin. That’s what he’d said in the beginning, right? He wanted to sit and talk about Arin.

“That’s really no problem,” you smiled. It was your job after all. Yes, teachers liked being appreciated for their hard work, but personally, praise sent you a little red in the face. 

You didn’t know if he heard you, already continuing, as if he’d rehearsed what he wanted to say. “It’s been really hard on her, the change – you know, uprooting the life she knew to come and live with me. New school, making new friends. She was incredibly worried, but you made it so much easier for her.” 

Looking at you again, sounding so genuine, you found yourself freezing. You stumbled a little over your words before managing to come up with something functional. “Of course, it’s my job to make every student comfortable in my class.” You were sure any teacher would’ve treated her with the same kindness and care. But, yes, truthfully you had become very fond of her in such a short time. You wanted him to know that in a roundabout way. “I’ll miss her come September.” 

He gave you an appreciative smile. “She’ll miss you too.” 

Serious Seokjin always threw you. Maybe it was because you had to accept that you’d misjudged him completely. He wasn’t the rich pompous jerk you’d first thought the morning he’d hit your car. You had to admit that like this he impressed and intrigued you. It was why you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him these past two weeks. Which was stupid because you doubted he was doing the same.  

“Thanks for choosing her to win that writing competition, by the way.” His voice brought you back to Earth, concentrating on him again to find that mischievous grin all over his face. “Even if you didn’t like the way it ended.” 

You scoffed. Was he ever going to drop that? He knew that wasn’t the case. He’d asked for the damn pointer himself. “Well, if Lewis Carroll did it.” 

“Kim Arin can too?” He finished, both of you instantly laughing. Once it petered off, he tilted his head to the side, gazing at you almost. It made you fidget a little, getting flustered. “She’s really fond of you. I meant what I said at the parent-teacher meeting.”

God, you really were horrendous at taking compliments. Especially from a man that already made you feel funny. 

“She’s always speaking about how kind and lovely you are.” A pause. "...How pretty you are.” You froze. He hesitated, contemplating something in his head it seemed. He looked you straight in the eyes and said casually, “I have to admit, I agree." 

Oh. What?! You felt heat begin to travel up your face, your cheeks burning and you prayed it wasn't visible. You didn't know what to reply, but thankfully (perhaps) Seokjin simply carried on, hopefully oblivious to your awkward reaction. You should bypass it too. It probably didn't mean anything. He was just being polite, right? 

“Realising it was your car I hit made me feel even guiltier." He shook his head regretfully. "I really am sorry for all that. The damage, stealing your car." 

"It's fine, Seokjin." He hadn’t really stolen your car, you’d been extremely overdramatic there. He'd apologised enough already. You were over it. You had two days left of school, the summer all yours, your mood was much better. Let bygones be bygones. 

“Yeah but, I should’ve never gotten your car towed. I realise I was out of line. You said you didn’t want my help but I didn’t listen." 

You nodded, listening to him, aware he needed to say this. Again, it seemed as if he'd rehearsed it almost, or maybe it was the professional in him. You were too damn stubborn so he wasn't all to blame. You smiled appreciatively, fighting your hand's strange urge to pat his shoulder. It was maybe best that you didn't touch him. Instead you gave a teasing grin. “But you still won’t let me pay you back?” 

He whined – or at least that's the only way you could describe it. It tugged at something inside your chest. Maybe it was more like a wail. Less cute. He couldn't believe you were back on that. 

"I'm just messing around," you laughed, trying to compose yourself to let him know something too. “While we're on apologies... I'm sorry for being so short with you annnd for calling you a car thief."

He chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair. Oh, it was pushed back above his forehead again today. You hadn't noticed, too distracted by what? His sneakers? The outfit as a whole? His face? “I deserved it, let’s be honest." 

"Maybe in the beginning," you admitted carefully, causing him to laugh harder. 

“I was way too preoccupied when I hit you. With work and promising Arin I’d drop her off at school – because shamefully I’d never done it before." He turned a little pensive at that, lost in his own thoughts. 

“You must be really busy," you said, voice soft. There was no way he could do it all. Work seemingly six days a week and still try to be there for Arin 24/7. 

He looked across at you, an eyebrow quirking slightly. What was he surprised by? That you were sympathising with him? He nodded slowly. “It’s just hard learning to juggle everything.   Don’t get me wrong, I love having her with me every day, but...”

“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon.” You wanted to say it would be summer break soon enough, but then on second thoughts, maybe that would make things even harder. 

“Yeah, maybe,” he shrugged, changing the subject back to you. “Besides, me being busy doesn’t really excuse the fact I hit you. I mean, what if god forbid you’d been walking past my car instead, it doesn’t bear thinking about.” He looked beside himself at just the idea. 

“But I wasn’t,” you reminded him, “so it’s perfectly okay.” 

“You’re right,” he murmured, giving you a small smile that rounded his cheeks.  

There was silence then, where you waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. Was that all he’d wanted to talk about? To thank you for being a kind teacher to Arin and to say sorry once again for the car debacle? For some reason you felt eager to keep the conversation going. It was an urge deep inside you that acted on its own accord. 

“So, what do you do?” You asked, trying your best to sound casual. Not that you weren’t casual. You just didn’t want to make it seem like you were desperate for small talk. “If you don’t mind me asking.” 

Again, he looked vaguely surprised. What, that you were interested in him? No, that was phrased wrong. That you were interested. He didn’t meet your eyes as he replied.  “I, uh, I’m the CEO of LG. I took over from my father about three years ago.” 

You swore your eyes bugged out of their sockets you were so overcome with shock. You were glad he wasn’t looking at you as you tried to pull it together. “The LG?”

Like one of the biggest companies in the country LG? He was way too young surely? Weren’t those type of CEOs old and round looking?  

Seokjin chuckled, finally looking you in the eyes. “Unless you know another one.” 

You were speechless, well aware you needed to actually say something in reply instead of gawping but what? What could you say to that? “I guess that explains why you’re always so busy then.” 

God, why? Of all the things, why that? Well done for stating the obvious, Y/N. 

Seokjin gave you a modest smile. “It’s difficult, yes. Trying to manage work and being effectively a single dad, but I really am trying.” He shook his head slightly, as if he was telling himself off. “I missed her so much these past couple of years, so to finally have her living with me is a dream come true. I’m trying to be the best father I can but I guess it’s a work in progress.” 

You weren’t expecting him to be this open with you at all. But maybe Soojung wouldn’t be so surprised. She and a bunch of your other friends, even acquittances said that you were easy to confide in. That you listened well and didn’t try to solve everything. You didn’t know how true that was but you didn’t mind listening to him right now. Sometimes confiding in a stranger just worked. 

“Arin obviously adores you.” You smiled. “I could see that the day I dropped your car back.”

He gave you a tiny smile of thanks but sighed softly. “I just want her to always be happy. I know coming from a broken home may make that statement hypocritical but…”

“Not at all,” you insisted. “If a relationship isn’t working out then you need to do what’s best for your child, and you.” That was important too. “I mean, my parents divorced when I was quite young and I have a million and one happy memories growing up.” 

You grew a little self-conscious, thinking that you were oversharing, but he seemed happy to hear it, perking up a little. “Really?” 

“Yep. They beat the ones I have of them yelling at one another.” 

He gave a bitter chuckle then, nodding in agreement. “That’s right. It’s just…” He paused and you wondered if he was going to carry on. Was it bad that you felt curious? You liked seeing this side of Seokjin, it wasn’t how your fantasies had gone at all, it was better. Things had taken an unexpected turn but it just seemed to fit. It seemed natural. It felt nice to talk to him like this. Suddenly you didn’t seem so different. Despite the contrasts in your job and lifestyle, they weren’t very apparent here on this bench… 

“My ex-wife is… she lives a busy life – even busier than mine. But she loves it. She goes looking for it.” Seokjin explained. You listened politely. “That’s why Arin had to start living with me, and even though I’m pulled thin, I still try to make enough time for my daughter, no matter the day, no matter the time, no matter anything. Nana doesn’t…”

Nana? That was her name. You imagined someone slim and beautiful, it was only fitting seeing as Seokjin was the man she was married to once upon a time. Beauty attracted beauty. 

“Is that why you divorced?” Okay, maybe you were prying now. You hoped he didn’t find it rude. 

He didn’t. “There were a lot of reasons,” he answered honestly. “It was as much my fault as it was hers. We were going in different directions and had fallen out of love. It’s been a while now, nearly two years, I’m fine.” He met your eyes at the last part, as if he wanted you to understand that. Or maybe you were reading it wrong. Why would he want you to know that? 

“Does she live far?” You remembered Arin’s disappointment that weekend when her mom had cancelled their plans. Maybe she lived a while away and it was hard to commute with Arin back and forth. 

“No, just in the next city. It’s not far at all. She’s really high up in an accounting firm there. That’s why when we divorced I moved closer to my building here. See, that’s what annoys me the most,” Seokjin scoffed, an edge to his voice now. Oh shoot, you’d made a mistake with that question. “It’s really no distance at all, so why can’t she spare one single day for Arin?” 

You made a sympathetic face, unsure what to say. You decided on honesty. “I’m sorry, I can’t even begin to imagine how all that feels.” 

Break-ups and divorces were hard yes, but when a child was stuck in the middle a tonne of other complications arose. As a teacher you understood that very well, but as a long-time single woman, maybe not. It had been a while since you’d opened your heart to someone, your life taking a very different turn to what you’d expected three years ago. Not that you minded, you liked where you were heading right now, comfortable and at ease. There was nothing missing. You had your friends and family and that was enough. You hoped Seokjin had people around him too.  

“No, I’m the one that should apologise,” he said suddenly, face tinged with colour, as if he was embarrassed. “I’m offloading onto you, that isn’t fair.” 

“I don’t mind.” Honestly, you didn’t at all. It wasn’t even offloading, more so a conversation. You were getting to know him. 

“You’re just so easy to talk to and I got a bit caught off guard when you started asking about me.” He admitted, his warm eyes finding yours. 

Oh. So now you knew for definite he was indeed surprised by all your questions. When was the last time he’d spoken about all that stuff relating his ex-wife? Had he ever spoken about it at all? 

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you today.”

His words caught your attention, interrupting your thoughts and in the process confusing you greatly. You raised a questioning eyebrow. What did he mean? 

“When I asked you to take a walk I did want to thank you for being so kind to Arin and to apologise for the car trouble, but there was also something else…” You waited patiently, heart thudding quite roughly against your chest for some reason. He looked nervous again. Nervous and awkward just like earlier, before you’d distracted him. 

He chose a new direction. One that left you a little dazed. “Y/N, would I be crossing the line if I said I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately?” His dark brown eyes searched for any reaction across your face. 

“Me?” You asked quietly. 

He chuckled bashfully. “Yeah.”

Somehow you found your voice. Well, some of it anyway. “No, it’s not crossing the line.” You wanted to tell him just the same. How he’d slipped into your mind at random times of the day and how you’d secretly been holding out on another meeting. How you’d been anticipating today. But none of that came in your stunned state. Seokjin had been thinking about you? The annoying, exasperating so-and-so hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you? 

He instantly looked relieved – and pleased – at your answer. “I’m glad.” A pause as he hesitated. “Do you maybe want to… go out for dinner this Saturday?” He sounded hopeful, adding quickly, “with me, obviously.”

You would’ve giggled at that but nothing was working. You needed to process his question. He was asking you for dinner? 

“My way of apologising for everything, my treat…” You guessed he felt the need to explain now, a little panicked by your reaction (or no reaction.) “For hitting your car and towing it away without your permission.” 

You laughed then. Just like that your shock dispersing. He was so oblivious it hurt, and now you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose. He really was that unaware. “So you want to spend more of your money on me?”

You weren’t mad, of course. He knew that, laughing too as he weighed up your reply. “I see the problem.” You snickered, your gaze intimately locking with his in the process. “So, what do you say?” He murmured. “I mean, it’s for a plethora of things really. The car business, all you’ve done for Arin. One massive thank you.” 

Oh. You were getting mixed messages here. Was this an apology dinner, a thank you dinner? Or something more? Maybe he read the questioning in your eyes because he was rushing to say more. “As well as just wanting to enjoy your company. I feel like I talked too much about myself today, I’d like to get to know you too…”  

Okay, now this sounded awfully like a date… And that word freaked you out. Had you not just been thinking about how happily single you’d been for three years and how all you needed were your friends and family? But honestly, you were getting ahead of yourself. It was one dinner. There was no way to predict the outcome and you shouldn’t even be thinking that far ahead. Sometimes you didn’t need to think. You needed to remember that. Sometimes it was just good to act in the moment. Take cautious to the wind and accept this incredibly handsome man’s dinner invitation, whatever his intention was. 

You smiled. “Dinner sounds lovely.” 

Seokjin’s eyes widened a tad, surprise visible and he didn’t try to hide it. “Really?” You laughed and nodded. Really you should be the one still shocked, because despite everything – the misjudgements, the attitude, the way you’d been itching for numerous fights with him, it was a wonder why he still wanted to be anywhere near you. …Maybe he liked that… Maybe he liked you? Or were you absolutely barking mad?  

“Can I have your number to arrange everything?” 

You went to relay it to him, watching him pull his phone from out his front jean pocket but then remembered something. “Oh, I already have yours, should I just text you?”

“That’s my work phone. Maybe we should swap personal phone numbers?” 

You mean, you only had one phone, but it made sense why he had two. You were still stuck on the personal part though. A little dazed (and excited) as he saved your number into his phonebook. Your phone was locked up in your classroom, so you couldn’t take his but no matter, you’d just save it once he messaged you. 

Seokjin glanced at his watch – an expensive looking thing, but that was really no surprise now – and hummed. “We should head back, the fate will be finishing soon.” 

You made more small talk as you walked back, Seokjin wondering if you had any allergies or a special diet so he could bear it in mind when he chose a restaurant. Luckily for you no, but you found out that he was allergic to garlic and potatoes, which seemed ridiculous and highly unfair. But he did admit that he ignored it sometimes, which resulted in disaster often because garlic made him itch like crazy. You had a good laugh over that. 

“So, what are you going to name him?” Seokjin asked, stroking the top of your alpaca’s head who was hooked against your hip as you walked.  

“Hm. I don’t know.” You shrugged, turning to him. “You decide? You did win him after all.” 

“Hmmm,” he thought aloud. A few seconds later he came up with something. “How about RJ?”

“RJ?” 

Seokjin chuckled. “Yeah, it’s cute.” 

Smiling, you had to agree. “Yeah, it is.” You held the stuffed animal up in front of you, tilting your head to the side. “RJ the alpaca. Perfect.” 

Still walking as you spoke, you felt Seokjin move in, hovering his hand behind the small of your back in case you stumbled, your attention elsewhere. You felt the same warmth you had the day he’d called you by your name for the first time… 

Of course you had to tell Soojung about the events of the day. It wasn't as if you could keep it a secret – and it wasn't as if you wanted to, you just knew what would happen... She was like a dog with a bone, unable to give it up, making you recall every minute detail down to the socks he was wearing (black, by the way, to match his jeans. You had indeed noticed). 

“He’s so smart. He waits until you’re not this kid’s teacher anymore and then BAM, do you want to go on a date?”

“Soojung, it’s not a date," you sighed. “He’s just…being nice." 

You were still reluctant to call it a date, because well, he hadn't used the word himself. You didn't want to get your hopes up. Although you would never admit that to her, you knew she understood, in her own roundabout way. 

“Being nice?!” She exclaimed, scoffing absurdly loud. 

You shrugged. “Yeah, thanking me." 

She spluttered, as if she found you terribly naive. “What, thanks for being kind to my daughter? SHUT UP, it’s your job! No, he wants to give you that Dilf dick!" 

“Oh, my god. Soojung!” You hushed, immediately feeling your face burn. The thought hadn't even crossed your mind because it was so unbelievable. 

Saturday was not that long away, the last two days of school flew by, and whilst you were emotional, your mind was also a little too preoccupied with the weekend and what it all meant. Gradually, you’d finally had to admit to yourself that this was probably, most definitely a date. The word sent a fear through your body like no other. Despite being single for three years, you had been on a few first dates in that time, and obviously they had never led to anything. In fact, it had been over a year since your last and that's when you had sworn off dating altogether. 

Min Yoongi. That was the last guy you'd said yes too. A fifth grade teacher at Primrose Hill up until last September. (That had nothing to do with you, by the way, he'd just moved cities last summer to pursue a different career. The date hadn't been that bad...) He was easy on the eye and funny, although maybe a little too sarcastic at times, so much so, you hadn't been able to pick up on the signals until he was cornering you in the staff room and asking you to watch a movie with him that coming weekend. Being both teachers, you'd assumed you'd hit it off straight away, but that wasn't the case. It turned out that Yoongi pretty much hated his job, only there for the extended vacations. That was perfectly fine, you guessed, but you realised that a man like that wasn't for you. How could you both love and hate the same job? It just wasn't feasible. 

You didn't miss dating, mostly because you hadn't been that into the idea anyway. But now? Now that the idea had presented itself again? After the most peculiar string of events, you had suddenly found yourself being asked out for dinner by the man who had hit your car, and you were… excited. For the first time in forever, you were excited for a date.  

You hadn’t felt like this since –

Since Donghae. 

Even thinking his name turned your heart heavy. Not as bad as the original heartbreak three years ago, but the memory was still enough to dampen your mood, if even for a moment. You'd met one another during your last year of college and had stayed together for the next five years. He'd been your forever man, the one you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with – he had proposed to you on your 26th birthday after all... Only, being his fiancé hadn't lasted. Since months later he confessed to cheating on you – repeatedly with a girl that worked in the Starbucks near his work building. It had been the pressure of settling down, that's what he'd told you. He was still young, had been very young when you'd gotten together in college and he wanted to experience life properly. His friends were out clubbing every weekend while he stayed inside playing boardgames with you and your friends. Your friends, as if they weren't his too, as if you all hadn't been joined at the hip in college... 

Your life had pretty much crumbled after that. Everything you'd known had been ripped from under your feet and you had no idea what to do or where to go. One day you had been someone's wife-to-be and the next you were a lonely, broken human. You moved in with Soojung, had to take a month off work because you couldn't function properly, and slowly had to learn how to live your life without the love of your life. 

It took a while, but gradually you got there. You and Soojung found a new, bigger place to live – where you still lived now – and you found ways to stop thinking about him, went on weekend vacations and started new hobbies. It took just over a year to feel yourself again but dating never seemed right. 

Soojung slowly encouraged you to try it out, but the handful that happened in that twelve month period just felt forced – even the one with Yoongi, which had pretty much happened organically (as in, Soojung hadn't set it up…), felt like it was missing something. In a way you knew you were comparing everyone to Donghae, you couldn't help it. You couldn't imagine potentially falling in love with someone else again. He was all you'd known for so long, and once upon a time your relationship had been amazing. He'd been amazing. Getting out of that mindset had been difficult, but there had been an even more difficult one... One you were still struggling with now. The issue of opening up your heart again. 

Truthfully, that's why you’d stayed single for so long. Why you'd given up on dating and didn't want to know. The thought of you meeting and falling for someone only to inevitably get hurt again terrified you. You wouldn't say you had trust issues, you knew not every man was like Donghae, but just imagining your world crumbling like it had three years ago was enough to just give up. 

It wasn't like you were unhappy though. You’d meant all that stuff about liking where your life was heading. You had your friends and family and a job you loved. Your life was fulfilling, there was nothing missing. But maybe that’s what you’d needed to realise… Life worked in mysterious ways. Once you were happy and content maybe it was finally time to open up your heart again. 

The truth was, you were very, very attracted to Seokjin. You felt something, even when you wanted to poke his eyeballs out for being so annoying. Actually, thinking about it, maybe that’s why you’d been so scrappy, your mind was fighting with your heart… Despite the obvious differences between you both, you oddly weren’t fazed by that right now. Seokjin didn’t seem unrelatable in that sense. Yes, your lives were crazy different, but there was something between you. You were sure of it. The way he’d opened up to you on that bench, the way he’d smiled at you, and even the way he’d teased you. It had to mean something. 

Sometimes it was okay to trust your heart. That warm feeling weaving its way through your chest… Sometimes it was okay to be a little exposed. Not everyone was out to get you. 

What was the worst that could happen? The dinner never led to anything else? That would be okay, you’d get over it. But what if it did lead to something more…? 

You deserved to find out, right? 

Saturday morning you received a text from Seokjin. You were eating breakfast at the small table you had set up in the kitchen alongside Soojung. She had only just woken up and was still a little bleary eyed but still managed to instantly perk up at the mention of Seokjin. She demanded to see his message straight away. 

Unknown (9:32am)  Hi Y/N,  It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up.  Regards, Seokjin 

She squealed. “This guy writes his texts like they’re emails. You just know he’s going to be a good lay.”

“Soojung,” you groaned.  She would not shut up about Dilf dick this and Dilf dick that. “What does that even mean?” 

“He’s a CEO,” she said simply, eyes wide as if that explained everything. “Of one of this country’s biggest companies. That’s like some type of erotic novel shit.” 

You groaned loudly, dropping your head into your hands, but she still continued – sadly. 

“But none of that creepy Fifty Shades of Grey stuff. This guy is a real gentleman. Like he puts your pleasure above all else. I think he’d be really good at going down on a woman.”

By this point, you’d stopped feeling flustered by her insane claims. They were just normal now. She was unbelievable. Why was she even thinking of these things and where did she come up with them? You didn’t want to think of Seokjin like that because you really wanted to keep your sanity for tonight. Plus, no way were you ready for something like that yet. You hoped Seokjin wasn’t anticipating something more. You were sure he wasn’t, you hadn’t gotten those vibes. Soojung was just being dumb. 

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t half talk some shit.” 

You wanted her to point out how cute his text was instead. Like how he’d said he was Arin’s father, you know, just in case you’d forgotten who he was in two days, but no, she was too caught up on potential erotic novel titles. 

You slipped to the side with a start when Soojung nudged your shoulder, getting all up into your personal space as she teased you. “I’m right though, huh?” 

You pushed her back. “This is just a dinner. Not the start of an erotic novel.”

She shrugged. “I’d read it.”

“What would you read?”

Taehyung’s voice appeared from the doorway and you both looked up to see him leaning against it, eyes still pretty much glued shut, his thick hair pulled all ways. 

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Soojung greeted, standing up to make her way towards him. You watched her wrap her arms around his middle, nuzzling into him. She’d only left him in bed not half an hour ago. Seeing your best friend in love was odd but nice. You weren’t used to sappy Soojung, but you had to admit it suited her well. They were cute together. 

Taehyung wrapped one arm around his girlfriend and lifted the other to his face, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “What are you guys yelling about down here? You woke me up.” 

“Y/N’s date tonight,” 

“Oh, Mr. Dilf?” He sniggered, perking up. 

Soojung screeched and joined in. “CEO Dilf dick.” 

“You told him?!” You whined, standing to dump your bowl in the sink. 

“Of course.” Taehyung smiled smugly. “She tells me everything. Don’t you, babe?”

“Yep.” She grinned. You watched in minor amusement as Taehyung leant down to peck her mouth, Soojung gagging loudly. “Your breath stinks.” 

.

.

You replied to Seokjin promptly – well as soon as Soojung and Taehyung had vacated the kitchen – and not long after that he messaged back with the restaurant details, asking if it was okay to pick you up at 7pm. You sent him your address, almost immediately freaking out. You knew his wealth hadn't fazed you that bad, seeing as he was so easy to talk to, but your place and his place were on different planes of existence. You knew it wouldn't bother him, he wasn't like that, you knew that now, but you were still a little self-conscious. It was probably the nerves regarding today. The reality was setting it. The slight doubt… 

Soojung wasn't helping. 

“There’s steaks on the menu that are more than our rent a week," she awed, looking down at her phone. 

Why had you given her the name of the restaurant again? You would never learn your lesson. She had already googled his name when you’d told her he was the CEO of LG and she had been this close to searching his net worth before you’d stopped her. You didn’t want to know, not only was it incredibly invasive, it made you feel slightly faint. Seeing his image pop up online was enough for you . A professional headshot, he smiled kindly into the camera lens. It was crazy to think that it was the man you’d be going to dinner with. 

Soojung would be good for one thing though – helping you decide on an outfit for tonight. Taehyung had gone home a couple of hours ago, needed at the bar he owned so she had nothing else better to do. Not that she was listening to you though… 

She shrugged. “What did I expect? This dude is a billionaire." 

“He’s not." 

Billionaire seemed a lot more intimidating than a millionaire, but in reality what was the difference? He was unbelievably rich and you were just... you. You shook your head, attempting to claw yourself out of the anxiety hole you'd found yourself in. His job didn't matter. The restaurant he'd chosen didn't matter. You were going for dinner with him to enjoy his company and get to know him better. The finer details were irrelevant. 

“Come on! If not he must be a multi-multimillionaire." She rationalised. "His dad is the billionaire."

You groaned. "Will you stop making me nervous and help me pick something to wear?" 

You decided on the midi dress you'd actually worn to Eunbi's wedding last summer. It was the only fancy thing you had – or at least fancy enough to dine at a restaurant that sold insane dollar steaks. But wait, the restaurant wasn't supposed to matter, remember? 

You still wanted to look nice though. The dress was modest in itself but maybe the colour was a bit eye-catching – a deep red. Soojung said it was perfect and you'd knock his Dilf socks off. By now you were getting sick of the word. You told her as much.

"What if I don't want to sleep with him?"

"As if." She scoffed. "Your dry spell has gone on far too long. You deserve this." She caught the look of apprehension on your face. "When you're ready of course."

"Don't make me –”

"Nervous, I know" she finished for you, sighing loudly. "There's no need to be. Mr. Dilf is whipped for you, I just know it."

How did she know? She hadn't even met him, but you appreciated the sentiment. You did not appreciate it when she was being a clever bitch though. 

"I'm just trying to work this out." She said, watching you apply your mascara in the bathroom mirror. It was much later in the day now, about forty minutes before Seokjin was due to pick you up. You were dressed, hair up, makeup nearly done, and sick to your stomach with anticipation. You hummed, letting her know you'd heard her and to continue. 

"You were mad when Dilf spent money on your car but you're okay with him spending mad money on you at this restaurant?" 

"Soojung," you warned, staring at her reflection in the glass. 

She held her hands up in apology. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just curious. Is it okay when it's food?"

You sighed. You knew it didn't really make sense, you guessed, but well, you'd said yes to the dinner. You hadn't said yes to the car being repaired. That was the difference. 

"I'm not going to order the most expensive thing on the menu." 

"Well, don't just order a side salad, he'll think you're weird..." 

You simply stared at her. Her input was so appreciated. 

.

.

“He’s here, oh my god, he’s here!” Soojung screamed, spying through the voile curtains in the living room. "Ten minutes early. I love that." 

“Soojung, move away, now." You told her sternly. 

“The fucking car–” She cut herself with a muffled sound. As if she was trying to stifle her own screams. You guessed he'd gotten out of said car. “What the fuck, what the fuck, he’s SO hot. I’m going to pass out."

“Soojung!" Dropping your phone into your purse you slipped on your heels, nearly tripping over in the process. You gripped onto the back of the couch just in time. "I swear to god if he sees you." 

She spun around, pointing an accusing finger at you. “You never said he was that hot." 

You shrugged. "You never asked."

"I asked every goddamn second of the day. You lucky bitch." She walked towards you, fixing a piece of your hair that had fallen into your eyes. “How come you get hot billionaire Dilf and I get the man-child whose special talent is making cocktails." 

"Shut up," you scoffed. She loved Taehyung and his cocktail making skills. That's how they'd met after all. She drunk at the bar three days a week for a month straight until he asked her out. 

The doorbell rung and you froze, remembering how nervous you were. Soojung's antics had distracted you for a while but now reality was setting in. As you turned to leave she tapped your ass. “Get that Dilf dick, girl!”

"Soojung, I swear to god –”

"I won't wait up."

Ha. As if. She'd be glued to that window until Seokjin dropped you off back home. You knew her all too well, you'd been best friends for over ten years. 

In the entryway now, you didn't have time for breathing exercises. Although, you wished you'd had once you opened the door to see Seokjin stood there looking devastating handsome. 

“Hi," he smiled, eyes lighting up when he saw you. 

“Hey," you managed to squeeze out, cemented to the ground. 

He was dressed in a double breasted navy two piece that must have been tailored to fit his body down to the millimetre, a crisp white dress shirt on underneath. His hair looked shorter, falling just above is eyebrows and parted slightly in the middle. He looked good enough to eat. Or good enough to make you pass out. Either one. 

“You look beautiful," he awed, rendering you pretty speechless. 

This was a date. It really was a date. 

"Thank you," you managed to reply, needing to return the compliment. But what could you possibly say?! “You look…really good." 

Oh god. How embarrassing. 

Especially when Seokjin burst out laughing, that familiar squeak to it that you'd heard at the parent-teacher meeting. "I'll take it. Thanks." He tilted his head. "Are you ready to go? I'm a bit early, I know. Sorry about that." 

You nodded, clutching your purse tight to your side. "I, uh... I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing." You raised your voice a little so she'd hear you, but on her best behaviour she stayed deathly silent. Well done, Soojung. 

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but you figured you'd fill him in inside the car. "It's fine," he shook his head.

Seeing you stepping forward he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to invite you to lead the way. You did, making sure not to look back towards the living room window, because you knew for a fact you'd see Soojung pressed up against it. 

.

.

“This is all new for me.” Seokjin admitted, sat opposite you as you waited for your dessert. “I haven’t been on a date for years.”

To say the night had gone well would be an understatement. At first you’d been too nervous to even breathe, especially with Seokjin looking like that just a few centimetres away from you as he drove. It didn’t help that he seemed to be some type of regular at the restaurant, getting greeted as if he was an old friend of the manager and led to his ‘usual’ table; a quiet spot away from the hustle and bustle. It turned out he co-owned the place with his brother, looking mildly embarrassed as he told you. It was cute, but he had nothing to be self-conscious over, this was his life, normal to him. I hope you don’t see it as a cop-out, he confessed, causing some confusion your end. Why would you see it that way? This restaurant was beautiful, certainly popular, and you couldn’t wait to try the food. You told him as much and he laughed about feeling nervous now. 

You tried lobster for the first time ever – his recommendation. It was kind of messy, but he ordered the same so you were both in it together. You laughed, you joked, you got to know one another more. Conversation came easy, both relaxed in one another’s company, and after the main you both decided to share a dessert, too stuffed for anything more. 

“Snap,” you grinned, silently happy that was the case, although rather amazed. Seokjin was, well… him, who wouldn’t want to snap him up? However then again, he was a busy, divorced father. Dating probably wasn’t high up on his list. You were so distracted by his confession, you didn’t even comprehend he’d used the word ‘date.’ 

“Really?” Seokjin’s eyes bulged slightly. Why was he so surprised? 

You shrugged casually. “It’s been well over a year since my last date.”  

Seokjin’s mouth curved, amused. “Try over ten.” 

“I wasn’t aware this was a competition,” you laughed, but yes, he indeed had you beat. 

He laughed along, the arrival of your lemon cheesecake interrupting you both for a moment. It was a few bites later when the conversation got back on track again, Seokjin’s tone careful as he looked across at you, both of you reaching for another bit of the cheesecake with your dessert forks. “You don’t mind me calling this a date, do you? This isn’t the part where you tell me you’ve been in a relationship for five years and you just thought this was an innocent thank you dinner?”

You giggled softy, shaking your head. “No. I don’t mind you calling it a date.” You brought the fork up to your mouth, taking your time to chew before you continued. “Soojung was adamant it was but I… didn’t want get my hopes up?” You wanted to be honest. This night was about opening yourself up to the uncertain. 

“Soojung, your best friend? The one you live with?” He asked. 

You nodded. You’d already told him all about your best friend, about how you lived with each other. Seokjin hadn’t bat an eyelid, which was nice. You weren’t embarrassed or anything, but the differences in your living arrangements were stark. He thought it sounded fun. He still remembered living with his best friend Namjoon back in college and how entertaining that had been. He’d definitely be up for it again if they weren’t both dads now – divorced at that, but hey ho, that was life. 

“Well, she was correct.” Seokjin continued. “I thought I made it clear but I guess I was too cryptic.” 

“So, which one is it?” You asked, lifting an eyebrow in interest. “Not an innocent thank you dinner or not an innocent dinner?” 

You were feeling brave, however your heart still thudded inside your chest, adrenaline whooshing through your veins. There was something about Seokjin that made you act so out of character… 

Seokjin failed to conceal the visible surprise across his features and you watched him swallow before he composed himself, a smirk appearing on his lips immediately. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you were flirting with me right now.”

You shrugged. “I’m just checking if your intentions are innocent or not?” You took another bite of the cheesecake. 

His smirk grew, and you watched him drop his fork onto the plate to lean back in his chair. “I would say they are, however, I did have plans to kiss you on the cheek tonight, so maybe, busted?” He chuckled then, at himself – he liked doing that you’d noticed. It was kind of cute. 

The butterflies were back. Now there was no need to ignore or try to explain them. You took them as what they were – a good sign. Humming aloud, you tilted your head to the side and pretended to contemplate. “I think I can let you do that.” 

Seokjin laughed. “You can? Okay, that sounds good.” 

You reached for your glass of wine, needing a sip just to calm the flurry inside of you. Seokjin tucked his chair closer, still laughing but quietly now, more like a chuckle. “Honestly, I was pretty much shitting my pants today.” 

You snorted into your glass, taken by surprise at his choice of words. “Sorry,” you apologised, feeling a little bit embarrassed by the sound that had just left your nose. He didn’t same fazed. “I was nervous too.” 

That seemed to settle him. He smiled fondly, fingers tracing the brim of his glass. “I guess we were being silly.” His lips parted to say something else but he hesitated. You watched him take a quiet exhale, then he continued. “My therapist has been begging me to try dating again for months but the thought has always been pretty terrifying.” He gave a small shrug, his warm eyes locking with yours. “Until I met you.” 

You could feel your heart rate speeding up, unable to stop the smile that spread across your face. He was pleased, grinning back, posture visibly relaxing. “She said I should face up to my fears and just ask you out.” 

There were a lot of thoughts whirring through your mind right now. The fact he felt comfortable enough to disclose with you that he had a therapist, and the fact that he’d even mentioned you to her, that she had encouraged him to ask you out. The fact he’d liked you enough to want to take the plunge at all. After two years of being alone, you were the woman who had made him want to try again… It felt comparable to your own thoughts, to your feelings… and that’s why you felt so relaxed tonight. It just felt right. 

“I like you, Y/N.” He confessed. “I know we don’t know one another very well, but I hope that this is just the beginning.” 

Despite his words sending your butterflies crazy, you kept your cool, trying to stunt your smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, I guess.” 

He chuckled. You let yourself smile at the sound. “Not so bad. I’ll take it.” He picked up his fork again, taking a bite of the cheesecake you’d both forgotten about. His voice was careful, genuine to match his expression, when he carried on. “Despite the circumstances of how we met and what followed, I don’t know, I haven’t felt a spark like that in forever.” He reached for a sip of his wine, laughing. “What do you think? You can call me crazy if you want.” 

“I think you’re right.” There was no doubt about it now. You’d been adamant in the beginning that was nothing there – no spark, no flirting, insisting Soojung was wrong, but now you couldn’t deny the obvious attraction. You’d immediately bounced off one another that evening during the parent-teacher meeting, despite your annoyance the day before. 

You grinned. “You frustrated me to no end but I felt something too.” 

He tilted his head to the left, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Frustrated you? How so?”

“You know how,” you laughed. “I may or may not have called you an exasperating bastard in my head.” 

He couldn’t contain himself then, taken back and genuinely amused. “Oh god,” he practically wheezed. “I like that one.” 

You laughed along, unable not to when the sound he made brought you such joy. You reached for another forkful of cheesecake, the dessert nearly coming to an end. Just like the date, you thought. You didn’t want it to end, you were enjoying yourself too much. 

“What about now?”

You looked up at Seokjin, eyes widening in question. What did he mean? He was staggeringly composed now, although his eyes shone with mischief as he grinned and explained. “Do I frustrate you now?”

You tried to stunt your own smile, shrugging your shoulders. “Not tonight.” 

“At the fate?”

“Nope.” 

He nodded his head, seemingly happy with your answers. “I guess things are looking up then.” He picked up his glass again, about to take a sip before he paused and added,  “Although, I must admit, I liked frustrating you. You look so cute when your mad.” 

You felt heat immediately burn its way to your cheeks, hoping the lighting in this restaurant was dim enough not to make it obvious. He took a swig of his wine. “Watch it, Mr. Kim.” As he chuckled it muffled inside the glass.  

You went for the last piece of cheesecake, figuring you were owed that now. You looked across at him as you chewed, knowing that if you really wanted this to happen again you needed to let him know. Face up to your fears of opening up, telling people how you really felt. “I’d like to get to know you better, Seokjin.”

“Really?” He sounded hopeful, fingers playing with the rim of his wine glass again. 

“Mmhm.” You nodded. “You seem like a lovely man if we ignore the car stealing...” 

“Hey,” he whined, “you apologised for that already, you can’t bring it up again.” You held your hands up in silent defence, chuckling silently, watching him lean closer. “But please, go back to what you were saying about me being a lovely man. Stroke my ego, it’s been a long week.” 

Had it? You were curious, concerned really. You thought to ask him if he wanted to talk about it, but you guessed the last thing he’d like to do was discuss work on a date. Instead, you decided to tell him about what attracted you most to him. The thing that had inevitably made you change your mind and realise that maybe, quite possibly, you’d misjudged him.

“Arin really adores you and I can see how much you dote on her. Any man cherished by his child is a good one in my eyes.” 

“Oh.” He simply replied, possibly at a loss of words. He looked touched – happy, but ultimately unsure of what to reply, so he bypassed it in a way, raising an eyebrow. “So is there some kind of checklist?” 

“What do you mean?” 

He gave a slight shrug. “Like, ‘kids like him – check.’ ‘He knows how to clean dishes – check.’ – I can by the way. I’m really good with a pair of washing up gloves and some dish soap.” 

You burst out laughing, not quite believing your ears. “Yeah, okay.” You admitted. “There’s a list.” Didn’t every woman have one? 

“Let’s see how I fare then.” Seokjin said, sounding sure of himself as he leant back in his seat, hands behind his head – the image of casual. Maybe you were into this cocky Seokjin… It was sort of hot. 

“Okay so…” You began, leaning forward. “Family man – check.” You’d already approved that one. “Loves animals?”

He scoffed. “Easy. Animals are so much better than humans.” 

Okay, more points his way… “Uhh.” You thought aloud, racking your brains. “Does he make me laugh?”

Seokjin mulled it over. “That sounds like a decision you have to make, but I think it’s a yes? I mean, you’ve been laughing all night. Unless you were just being nice.” 

“No, you are funny,” you confirmed, although you were unable to miss an opportunity to mess around with him. “You have that, what should I call it,” you pretended to think, “that old man type sense of humour.”

“Hey. I’m not that old,” he huffed. 

You chuckled quietly. True, he wasn’t old, but you were still surprised when you’d found out he was turning 38 this coming December. Some people were blessed with ageing gracefully. Of course he was one of them. The man looked amazing for someone two years away from forty. 

“What about you?” You wondered. “Do you have a checklist?”

He sat upright again, setting his elbow on the table to drop his chin in his palm, giving you his full attention. “Yes, and you check them all.” 

“I do?” You laughed in disbelief. Either he was easy to please or he wanted brownie points. 

He shrugged, as if to say of course. “You’re funny, caring, can be kind of scary at times – which I’m sort of into, to be honest.” 

“I’m not scary,” you protested, pouting slightly. However, what? He was into it? That made you feel funny…

He smirked. “I beg to differ.” 

You rolled your eyes. “What else do I check off?”

He didn’t need time to think. “You’re insanely beautiful.” Your dumbfounded expression made him second guess himself. He pulled a face. “Yikes. Too cheesy?”

You grinned, getting a hold of yourself. “Maybe, but then again, maybe I like that.” How could you not like being called beautiful? How could you not like receiving a compliment? Especially from him. 

He smiled, gazing into your eyes as he leant forward. You felt immediate warmth when his hand cupped yours across the table. This was the first time he’d touched you, right? Your mind was a blur right now, unable to recall two hours ago, let alone two weeks ago. When he spoke, you only felt warmer, the soft timbre of his voice fluttering through your whole body. “I’m really attracted to you, Y/N.” 

And what could you say to that? You swallowed, wetting your throat, realising it had become dry. He was waiting for a reply, amused by something – your blank looking face most probably. He had the ability to render you speechless, and he knew it. He liked it. 

Well, no, not on your watch. You’d get the last word. You’d win. 

Composing yourself, you slipped your hand from under his, tapping it lightly, as if you were consoling him. “I’ve said it once already, but you’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Kim.” 

Taken aback, he chuckled quietly in bemusement, shaking his head. “You’re going to give me wrinkles.”  

.

.

A man of his word, he did kiss you on the cheek after the date was over. He waited until he had driven you home and opened the door for you to step out of the car – ever the gentleman, you’d teased. You stood by the little gate that lead a pathway to your front door, and that’s where he’d leant down to place his lips ever so lightly against the top of your left cheek. You smiled shyly up at him, unable to play it cool this time. 

He looked a little rosy in the face too, unsure as he smiled. “I had a lovely time tonight.” 

“Me too,” you agreed. “Can I take you out next time?” You surprised yourself by the offer, that kiss must have shot some confidence into you. 

He looked surprised too, but into it, tilting his head in curiosity as he looked down at you. “Where do you suggest?”

“My place?” Okay, so it wasn’t ‘taking him out’ but you liked the idea best. Soojung could stay over Tae’s. She owed you one. “I can cook for you,” you offered, a hand unconsciously reaching for the collar of his jacket, straightening it for him. “To you know, return the favour of you paying for dinner to say sorry for paying for my car to get fixed.” 

His hand clasped around yours, dropping it between your bodies to hold it as he chuckled. 

“This is getting a little confusing now.” He swung your hand gently and you curled your little finger around his loosely. You could get used to this physical contact. It felt ordinary, like you’d been doing it forever. “Can’t we just call it dating and have done?”

You rolled your shoulders with a sigh, sounding casual and unbothered. “I guess, if it’s easier.” 

Seokjin’s laugh got lower, his face closer. His eyes kept looking between your eyes and lips, and you realised your heart was beginning to beat slower, or was it faster? You couldn’t tell anymore, but you could hear it pounding lightly inside your ears. You were in the middle of playing the same game – eyes then lips, eyes then lips – the seconds feeling more like minutes as he leant in closer and closer, but then – 

You spotted Soojung in the window as you happened to glance behind Seokjin’s shoulder. She had now totally bypassed the voile curtain, thinking she was Miss. Inconspicuous with the lights off. The street lighting was as bright as anything though, and all you could see was her face glowing like a ghost as she ruined the moment entirely. You were not having your first kiss with Seokjin in front of her prying eyes. 

Seokjin realised your attention was elsewhere now, awkwardly pulling back to scratch his neck with his free hand. You clutched at the hand that was holding yours, not wanting him to think you’d blown him off. He didn’t say anything though, just continued your conversation with a bemused smile. “Um, so what are you going to cook?” 

“What do you like?” You asked, only half your attention on him. Maybe you could silently signal to Soojung, tell her to get the hell out of the window before Seokjin noticed. 

“I’m easy,” you heard him reply. “What’s your speciality?”

“Uh…” Think Y/N, think. Distracted you said the first thing that popped into your head, still trying to force Soojung away with just your eyeballs. “Lasagne.”

“Lasagne?” He sounded interested. 

You finally met his eyes for more than five seconds, feeling a little panicky. “Yeah, my World Famous Italian lasagne.” 

Oh no. 

Seokjin laughed, dropping your hand to cup your cheek instead. Earlier, if this had happened you would have spontaneously combusted but now you had a case of the Nosey Friend and you couldn’t concentrate to save your life. “Okay, now you’re just talking big.” 

You couldn’t help it, your eyes attempting to dart past his shoulder again. He noticed – he’d probably noticed this entire time, an eyebrow of his raising. “What is going on over my shoulder?” 

You tried to stop him, clinging to his elbow, but he turned around anyway, eyes falling on Soojung immediately. You saw her instantly panic and jump back, dropping the curtain in front of the window again.  “That’s just Soojung,” you sighed. “Ignore her, she’s an idiot.” 

Seokjin was deeply amused, laughing as he turned back to you. “So, is next Saturday okay?” You pressed. 

He grinned. “Saturday sounds perfect to me.” 

As you said your goodbyes, Seokjin turned to the window and gave a small wave, chortling to himself. You couldn’t see Soojung anymore but you just knew she was still spying. But relieved Seokjin didn’t seem fazed, you made your way inside, giving Seokjin a wave by the door as he pulled off, feeling happy, yet a little sad the night was over already. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d enjoyed yourself like that. 

It was only when you were inside did you remember what you’d just done, too preoccupied to think properly beforehand. Oh God, the lasagne. Saturday night was going to be a disaster. 

Soojung came running into the entry way, interrupting your freak out. “He saw me! He saw me!” Her voice was shrill, and you couldn’t tell if it was because she was embarrassed or excited. 

“That’s what happens when you spy, idiot,” you swiped, kicking off your heels. The instant relief brought you no comfort. “Soo, I’ve done something stupid.” You admitted. 

She instantly looked worried. “What? What have you done?”

You sighed, already feeling like a fool. “Okay so, I invited him over next weekend and said I’d cook for him.” 

“Girl is horny for that D–”

“Shut up, that’s not the problem,” you stopped her. She looked puzzled. “You were distracting me!” It was all her fault. You weren’t taking the blame. “He asked me what I was gonna cook and I told him I make a World Famous Italian lasagne!” 

Your best friend was silent for an extended second, making sense of your words before she burst out laughing. Highly dramatic, practically doubled over, splitting her sides. Even more dramatic than you for freaking out over a damn lasagne. 

“You have never made lasagne in your entire life!” She exclaimed. “What were you thinking?” 

“It was your fault!” It was also her fault you didn’t get to kiss Seokjin properly too. But you weren’t going to bring that up now, unable to bear the constant teasing that would ensue. 

“My fault?!” She laughed. You just rolled your eyes. She did not appreciate that at all. “Whatever. I can’t wait to see your “World Famous Italian lasagne.” Make sure to save me some, won’t you?”

“Right,” you huffed. “For that, I’m not telling you how the date went.” 

She soon changed her tune, needing all the details just to be able to sleep tonight… 

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

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – Eight // Wanda Maximoff

chapter seven | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter nine

author’s note: Y/C/N = your cousin’s name, also this is later than I wanted today but i’ve been super busy so sorry for that! Also, I’ll be responding to comments from the last one as soon as I’m free. Enjoy 😊

"...okay, so now use the water to dilute the colour."

I did as Wanda said, dipping my brush in the glass of water and diluting the watercolour I was using, but I must have used too much because it made the paint run and then the paper started to get too damp to hold together.

Wanda facepalmed, sighing as I smiled sheepishly.

"My bad...?"

She glared playfully before ripping a page from her sketchbook. "Try again, milaya (darling). And use less water this time."

I squinted in the sun as I glanced at her. "Can't you just accept I'm not very good at painting? Or art in general?"

She shook her head, taking the torn page from my grasp and replacing it with a new one. "No way. You're not getting out of it that easily. It's not hard, I promise!"

I groaned lightheartedly. "You said that about drawing. And about using acrylics. And about using chalk."

"And I'm saying it about this, now c'mon, try again," she encouraged with an amused smile before returning to her own painting.

We were sat in my garden, hanging out and making the most of the lovely day we were having. The Spring breeze was getting warmer as we transitioned into Summer and it was a nice change of pace from the usual bad weather we had. So nice that Wanda wanted to do some painting and also teach me how to. But art was never my strong suit and I'm sure she knew that but still proceeded to try anyway.

Sketching out the tree before us for the third time today, I attempted to provide an outline that I could eventually fill in with green watercolours. Unlike Wanda though, it wasn't fun. My eyes veered over to her and I smiled to myself as I admired the look of concentration on her face – her 'art' look, I dubbed it. It was this very specific expression she got whenever she worked on a painting or drawing, and it always reminded me of that first time I saw it, after we met in the stationary store and when she took me back to her room. Absolutely wonderful.

"I don't hear a pencil moving," she said, not looking up but beginning to smile.

"That's because I'm looking for... what did you call it?" I racked my brain, thinking back to the day in the store when she talked about inspiration. "Vdokhoventi?"

A sharp exhale escaped her lips as she finally lifted her gaze to meet mine. Attempting not to laugh, she tilted her head adorably. "Vdokhnoveniye."

I quirked a brow. "Is that not what I said?"

She giggled, shaking her head. "Definitely not."

I grinned, shrugging. "Well, that's what I meant."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm not it, so eyes on your page."

"Oh, how dearly mistaken you are, love," I said quietly, leaning close and giving her a knowing smile.

She looked up, expression softening with a smile. Her eyes were heavenly, pupils dilated as she squinted in the sun, and they flickered to my lips before she settled on nudging me in the shoulder slightly. I snickered, leaning my head on her shoulder since everybody thought we were as close as best friends, so it wouldn't look suspicious. She sighed contently, letting me watch as she moved her paintbrush, painting a flower that was peeking through the grass we were sat on.

I could have stayed there forever, in that moment, sitting with Wanda and watching her paint under the sun. But of course, all good things come to an end when you don't want them to.

"Y/N, dear," I heard my father call, and when I looked up, I saw him approaching Wanda and I from the direction of our house.

Straightening up, I watched as he attempted to sit on the grass, but his legs were too long and he struggled to cross them. With a hearty chuckle, he stretched them out, slightly bent, and leaned on his hands.

"I'm getting too old for this, ladies," he said humorously, making Wanda and I smile.

"What d'you need, dad?" I asked, raising my brows.

"I just wanted to check in and see if you were ready for tonight," he said casually, making me furrow my brows. He seemed to notice my confusion, prompting, "Tonight? Your cousin's birthday party?"

"My cousin's what-now?"

He sighed, massaging the point between his brows. "Y/C/N? They organised this months ago. We're all expected to be there." His glanced to Wanda. "You, too, dear."

Wanda hummed, pulling her gaze from her painting and looking to my dad. "Yes, I'm aware. Got my dress ready and everything."

My eyes snapped to Wanda's with surprise. "You knew about this?!"

"You should be more like her," my dad muttered, as Wanda smiled with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

I looked back to my father. "I was planning on helping Y/B/N with his manuscript tonight."

My dad waved his hand. "I've already talked to him. He's agreed to work on it before the party starts so you're both on time."

I groaned, already tired at the sound of yet another party. Did it ever end?

"Don't be late," he ordered, though his voice was anything but stern. Cue another groan. He smiled before looking to Wanda's painting. "Wow, that's great, dear. Apparently you've got Y/N here attempting to do the same?"

Wanda chuckled as she handed him my several failed attempts. "Key word being 'attempting'."

He accepted the pages and stifled a smile of amusement. "Wow... maybe you should stick to writing, Y/N."

I ripped the pages from his grasp. "Cheers, dad, really."

He laughed before leaning forward and kissing my forehead. "It's all in good faith, dear. Now remember. Don't be late tonight, okay?"

I sighed, which he took as my response, before pushing himself off the grass with a grumble. Dusting his trousers, he nodded to Wanda and I before leaving us be.

"You could've told me I had yet another party to attend tonight," I told Wanda with narrowed eyes.

She shrugged, smiling helplessly. "I thought you knew."

I laid back on the grass with a dramatic sigh. "I just don't understand why our life revolves around extravagant parties, balls and dinners."

"That's just how it is, moya lyubov' (my love)," she said with a warm smile.

I looked up at the sky, raising my hand to shield the sun from my eyes, though my heart fluttered at one of the many nicknames she called me in Russian. "I'd rather live in the middle of nowhere. Where nobody expects anything of me and there's no stupid parties to attend."

She rested a hand on my leg before laying beside me, leaning her head on my shoulder. I relaxed my head on hers, appreciating how well we fit together.

"Same here," she agreed, making me gasp playfully.

"What? Don't you love the glitz and glamour?"

She laughed quietly. "I do, but I like the peace and quiet more."

I breathed out, fingertips brushing hers. "Maybe I can be a little late tonight... accidentally run over time so I don't have to stay as long."

Her fingers tugged on mine between us as a warning. "No. I'll be left alone and I'll be bored. And when I'm bored, I drink."

It was my turn to laugh. "You won't be alone, Wanda. You'll have Pietro."

She shifted so she was no longer leaning on my shoulder but instead tilting her head to look my way. "I want you."

I turned my head and gave her a small, promising smile. "I'll try to be on time."

She quirked a brow. "Try? You will."

My eyes flittered away, ready to argue otherwise, but she sat up and grabbed her paintbrush. I sat up, too, ready to tell her I would try, but I flinched when she flicked water towards me from the tip of it.

"Are you serious?" I asked, wiping the water from my eyelids with tongue-in-cheek.

She chuckled and I grabbed my paintbrush and did the same, watching her squirm when it flicked on her face.

Suppressed smile on her face, she wiped away the water and glared with dazzling eyes. "You shouldn't start what you can't finish, milaya (darling)."

Smiling from ear to ear, I quirked a brow devilishly. "Oh?"

"You're so lucky we're in front of people," she said lowly, leaning close enough to be platonic, but her hand slipped under my dress and creeped up my leg, making me involuntarily shiver. "Or you would be in serious trouble."

I stopped her hand from going any higher, the rings on her fingers cold enough for me to not melt under her touch. "I highly doubt that, love."

She held my gaze, intoxicating and mesmerising all at once. A sly smile tugged at her lips as she said, "Don't test me then. You heard your father. Don't be late."

I exhaled, licking my lips. "Fine. I won't be."

—

Later that afternoon, I found myself sat in my brother's study as the two of us worked on his latest manuscript together. It was a love story, his (my) specialty, and I was helping him to sort out his sentence structure when he decided to question me.

"Will you entertain me for a moment?" he asked randomly, making me look up from the pages.

"I'll probably regret it, but go on," I said jokingly, before looking back down and adding some notes to the paper.

His chair creaked as he leaned back, eyes watching me thoughtfully. "Are you in a secret relationship?"

I almost choked on my spit as he asked this, heart dropping to my stomach with panic. He couldn't know about Wanda, right? We'd been so careful.

Thankfully, I played it off well as I merely glanced his way before distracting myself with note-taking.

"Why would you think that, Y/B/N?" I asked like he was insane.

He shrugged in my peripheral. "I don't know... I've been wondering for a while. You've just loosened up so much more. And you're not as uptight as you usually are."

"Cheers," I said sarcastically.

He leaned forward, head resting in his palm. "This all happened right about the time I met Wanda..."

I swallowed hard, quirking a brow at him to play down my panic.

"I saw you with Pietro the other week," he continued, and I could finally breathe when I realised what he was insinuating. "I'm happy if you're happy, Y/N, but I'm not a fan of you sleeping with my publisher."

At that thought, I shuddered and proceeded to shove Y/B/N on the arm. "Don't say that. And I would never."

Just your fiancé, I thought guiltily.

"Good," he said with relief, straightening up. "Because you're not supposed to do that until you get married."

I rolled my eyes dismissively in response, but wondered if that still applied in a world where one was not allowed to marry the person they loved.

Y/B/N gave me a reassuring glance. "Look, I'm okay with it, I guess. But I'd appreciate the heads up so I can give him a stern talking to."

Realising there was a hint of mirth in his voice, I looked up and gave him a warning look. "Don't you dare."

He laughed, patting me on the back, to which I shrugged off with annoyance.

"It's the Maximoff charm," he commented knowingly. "The twins have that effect on people, don't they? Wanda sure has it on me."

A short silence fell after he said that and I chewed on my lip curiously, unable to stop myself from speaking until it was too late.

"Is her love reciprocated?"

He looked down to me from his daydream, no doubt of Wanda. "Pardon?"

Knowing there was no backing down from the conversation now, I avoided his eyes. "The engagement between you both was arranged... you're clearly in love with her, but is it returned?"

His lips twitched into a frown. "I'd hope so."

I hummed, diverting my attention away from him and to the pen in my hand.

"Why? Did she say something?" he asked, voice laden with worry.

"Of course not," I reassured him.

"But you'd tell me if she did?" he asked eagerly.

I looked his way and saw him peering down at me, hanging onto my response. I nodded lamely, which seemed to put him at ease as he sank into his chair with relief.

We spent the next few hours working on the manuscript without a hitch, but I noticed the time and realised the party was already in full swing. Wanda's words came to mind and I hoped she wouldn't be too annoyed at my lateness.

"We're wrapping it up now, don't worry," Y/B/N said, noticing me check the clock. "Thanks for the help. I'm gonna get this to my editor tomorrow. Your amendments should help make the process go a lot smoothly."

I hummed in response, feeling a heaviness settle on my shoulders as he mentioned his editor. It was always the same routine – I helped him with his manuscript, he got it edited, got his book published and got all the credit. And I was stuck in the same position, wishing I could do the same.

"What is it?" he asked with a sigh, sensing my mood.

Playing with the corner of the manuscript, I met his gaze. "I help you with your writing, but I never get anything from it."

"You get to help me," he pointed out, not seeing the issue. "Isn't that enough?"

Pietro's offer came to mind as I said, "What if I wrote my own book? And got published with my name on the cover?"

He squinted as he studied me, trying to find the humour in my words. Letting out a laugh, he shook his head.

"Y/N, that's absurd."

I raised my eyebrows hopefully. "I mean, is it? Would that be so bad?"

He pressed his lips together and breathed out through his nose. Resting a hand on my shoulder, he gave me a condescending look.

"I'm saying this because I care," he said, making me feel like crap. "But yes."

As if I didn't already know the answer, I asked, "Why?"

He motioned with his hand like it was obvious. "Because. People would look at you differently. You'd be undesirable. You know men don't like smart women. I'm just looking out for you as your brother."

I looked away, the bitterness at his words stinging more than usual. "Well, I like smart women."

Thinking I was joking, he chuckled. "Don't go saying things like that. One might misinterpret."

My teeth pressed into my lower lip hard, trying to contain my frustration.

"You can do this every now and then," he said, referring to the manuscript, "but any more isn't possible. Besides, two authors in one family? That's insane."

I forced a smile, but I wondered if his last comment was the real reason he wouldn't let me at least try to get published.

"Anyway, never mind that," he said indifferently. "We should probably head out. Dad is not going to be pleased. Especially since I promised we wouldn't be late."

I nodded, sliding my chair out and wanting to be anywhere but here right now. "Yeah, come on."

He gave me a sneaky smile. "Can't wait to see Pietro?"

I slapped him on the arm before standing up, ignoring his laughter. Nothing to make an already-depressing night worse than going to a party you didn't care for.

—

Wanda Maximoff was a very difficult drunk to be around, I'd learnt that the hard way.

As soon as Y/B/N and I rolled up to my cousin's house, a third of the guests were drunk and the rest were tipsy. A typical Y/L/N get-together. Y/B/N was instantly dragged away by some family whilst I was quick to make myself scarce, attempting to find Wanda. But the place was bustling with people and there were way too many rooms to check.

I found Pietro before I found his twin, as he was poking around party favours on a table in the corner, attempting to make out what were in the bags.

I found Pietro before I found his twin, as he was poking around party favours on a table in the corner, attempting to make out what were in the bags.

"If you're expecting a brand new fountain pen, you won't find it in there," I teased, making him jump.

He sighed when he looked my way, realising it was me. "I know that. But there's nothing better here to do, so I may as well know what freebies we'll be getting by the end of it."

I smirked. "Anything good?"

He shrugged, seeming disappointed. "Just some chocolate and perfume samples."

Holding back a smile, I said, "How tragic."

"If you're looking for my sister, she's over there," he said, nodding behind me. "You'll love this one."

"What do you mean?" I asked, brows knitted with confusion, before turning around and following his gaze.

Wanda was indeed stood on the other side of the dining room and I could just about make her out between idle guests. She was chatting to some woman, hands moving erratically and with expression, a grin on her lips.

"What is she doing?" I asked unsurely, tearing my eyes from her and looking to Pietro.

He was withholding laughter as he answered, "Sometimes, dear Y/N, my beloved twin sister gets drunk when she's–"

"Bored," I finished, remembering what she told me this morning. My face dropped as I mumbled, "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh indeed," Pietro said, grinning at his sister's dismay. "Drunk Wanda is a very truthful Wanda. So, any secrets of hers will most definitely be revealed tonight."

Pietro was too caught up in his own amusement to notice my eyes widening.

"One of our servants made me a platter a few years ago," Pietro explained, oblivious to my panic. "It was a delicious cheese platter, the cheese having been imported from France. Then, Wanda proceeded to eat it without telling me. When I asked if she did, she lied. And I only discovered she lied because she got drunk a few weeks later and bragged about how good the cheese was."

Continuing to ramble, though this time in Russian, Pietro complained about said incident, though I wasn't listening as I watched Wanda talk to the woman enthusiastically. I could only imagine what secrets she was sharing.

"Pietro!" I cut him off, earning his attention. "Shouldn't you do something? To stop Wanda?"

The cheese platter story long forgotten, his grin reappeared on his lips. "Nah, it's funny watching her make a fool of herself."

I gave him a look of disbelief before looking back to Wanda, who was laughing at something by herself. The woman she was speaking to seemed partially confused, but smiled to be polite. I gulped, before shaking my head.

"I'm not that mean," I said to Pietro before making a move to stop her.

Pietro booed me playfully, but I ignored him and approached the drunk brunette, managing to catch her conversation.

"–and they're usually such catty bitch–"

"Wanda!" I immediately cut her off, bumping into her side slightly to get her attention. "There you are!"

Green eyes widened with excitement as they met mine. "Y/N! You're here!"

Ignoring her, I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her close before looking to the guest she was talking with.

"My apologies for her behaviour," I said with an awkward smile, hoping Wanda hadn't revealed anything suspicious.

"No need to apologise, dear," the woman said with an amused smile. "Wanda here was telling me all about how lovely of a sister-in-law you are. Or will be."

Wanda grinned, looking to me and leaning in so close that her nose brushed my cheek. "Yeah, she is," she continued to the woman, though her eyes were on mine. "She's sweet, not like other people make out their sister-in-laws to be."

My face was warm as I cleared my throat and smiled once more to the woman. "If you'll excuse Wanda and I."

The woman barely got out a nod before I dragged Wanda away, trying to keep her lips away from my neck (she was also an extremely clingy drunk). Tugging her into the bathroom down the hall, I closed the door behind us and released a breath of relief, grateful for the escape from guests.

"You look very sexy when you're worried," Wanda complimented, stepping forward and smiling dazedly.

"Wanda–"

She placed her hand on my jaw, moving closer so that her lips were grazing mine as she mumbled, "You came late, milaya (darling). But I still love you."

I'd like to say that I had the willpower to push her away and scold her for acting so obvious about us before, but my lips went numb as she captured them between hers. I could taste the alcohol on her lips as she moved them against mine, making me dizzy and forgetting what I was going to say. Her thumb caressed my jaw and I relaxed under her touch, hands resting on her chest. When she tried to part my lips with her tongue, I seemed to come to my senses.

"Wanda, you're drunk," I muttered, pushing her back gently.

She chased down my mouth again, sucking on my lip and tilting my head back so she could have better access. I tried not to let her win as I kissed her briefly before pulling away. Clouded hazel eyes met mine with a matching smirk.

"You're such a tease," she whispered, her accent thicker than usual and making my stomach flip uncontrollably. Her thumb traced my lips as she continued, "You shouldn't do that when I already know how you taste, moya lyubov' (my love)."

The way she was staring at me made me flustered in place, and she seemed to notice her effect on me as she winked my way.

Shaking my head and trying not to let her win, I said, "Look, Wanda. I'm sorry for being late. But did you really have to get drunk?"

She shrugged, leaning her weight on my shoulder with her hand. "If you hadn't kept me waiting, then I wouldn't have."

I sighed, looking to her apologetically. "I didn't realise the time."

A permanent troublesome smile was fixed on her lips as she watched me.

"Your brother told me how you can be when you get drunk," I said with mild concern, hoping she'd register my seriousness. "You need to be careful, Wanda. We can't have people finding out about us."

"It seems to me," she began agonisingly slowly, lacing her arms around my shoulders, "that you'll have to watch me all night to make sure I don't do anything out of line."

Determined not to play into her teasing, I maintained her gaze with a stern stare. "It seems I'll have to."

She bit her lip, eyes flickering between mine, before leaning further into my ear. In a whispered voice, she said, "That means you can't leave my side, printsessa (princess)."

I clenched my jaw, ready to agree, but a gasp escaped my lips as hers sucked on my earlobe, teeth nibbling on the sensitive skin. Stupid Wanda and her stupid flirting and stupid attractiveness.

"Wanda!" I scolded, though my cheeks were flushed as I pushed her away gently.

She laughed adorably, the sound making my heart skip a beat. "What?"

"You have to behave," I told her, swallowing hard and trying not to let her teasing smile get to me. "You can't do this out there. Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed in a way that wasn't reassuring in the slightest.

I rolled my eyes before grabbing her hand and leading her back outside the bathroom, returning to the party. I wasn't planning on leaving her side for the rest of the evening, even if Y/B/N wanted to be with her. The last thing I wanted was for her cute drunken self to reveal something she couldn't take back.

To my relief, she kind of behaved after that. There were times when she would get a little too touchy to be platonic, but a quick stare set her straight. Y/B/N wasn't around much, as when he did join us, he was immediately pulled away by some family friends who wanted to discuss his books. For once, I was glad he was an author, afraid of what would happen if Wanda got too comfortable in his presence.

At one point though, he was able to join Wanda, Pietro and I at a standing table, relief flooding his expression when nobody called after him. His arm wrapped around Wanda's waist and he kissed the top of her head, making me look the other way with distaste. She scrunched her nose up at the action before distracting herself with a drink. I gave her a knowing look, having told her earlier to stop with the alcohol. She pretended not to see me.

"Sorry I've not been able to spend time with you tonight," he said to Wanda, oblivious to her tipsy state.

"It's almost like it's your birthday and not your cousin's," Pietro joked, smiling at him.

My brother chuckled. "I guess. They just all wanna talk about my manuscript."

"Ah, yes, the reason you were late, right?" Wanda asked, eyes falling to mine.

"I'm sorry," my brother apologised, assuming it was him she was speaking to.

"You were helping him, too, right?" Pietro asked, looking to me curiously. "Maybe I'll finally get a glance at your work."

I narrowed my eyes at him, having figured he'd put the subject to rest after last time. He merely grinned in response, finding joy in messing with me, just like his sister. Before I could say anything, my brother beat me to it.

"Don't be getting any ideas. It's just a hobby." He smiled forcefully, before glancing at me. "Isn't it, Y/N?"

"Don't be getting any ideas. It's just a hobby." He smiled forcefully, before glancing at me. "Isn't it, Y/N?"

So he was jealous. Wow.

"You don't need to hide your relationship, y'know," he continued when I didn't respond, looking to Pietro.

The silver-haired publisher choked on his drink as he looked to my brother, clearly very amused.

"I know you're together," Y/B/N said with agitation. "Everybody does. And don't get me wrong, Pietro, I respect you as a publisher."

I groaned quietly, closing my eyes with embarrassment. When I opened them, Pietro was watching my brother with an entertained smile, meanwhile, Wanda was looking between them with a twitching frown.

"But if you're going to date my sister, you should do it the right way," my brother continued stupidly. "It's not appropriate to have whatever this is." He motioned between us with his hands. "It's wrong."

I jumped when Wanda's hand slipped to my arse, squeezing it gently. Thankfully, our backs were to a wall so nobody would have noticed behind us, but I instantly glared at her and removed her hand. She gave me a cunning smile, not bothered by the consequences.

"...and if you're sleeping together like I suspect," Y/B/N was saying, making me flush with humiliation, "know that our friendship is at breaking point. I can't have that blatant disrespect in my life."

Wanda continued to attempt to grab my arse, making me slap her hand away several times, all whilst trying to manage whatever conversation was happening right now.

"I can't believe you just said that," I finally spoke up, managing to keep Wanda at bay long enough. "You're such an idiot, Y/B/N! I told you I wasn't with Pietro!"

Pietro tried not to laugh as he met my brother's intimidating stare. "I value our friendship, too, Y/B/N. Which is why I can promise you I have no... relations... with your sister. I don't like her like that, I can assure you."

Wanda snorted with amusement, before hiding behind a glass of wine when everyone looked her way.

Y/B/N seemed embarrassed as he cleared his throat. "Oh."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, oh!"

"I guess I should apologise," he said awkwardly, looking to Pietro. "I–"

"No apology necessary," Pietro cut him off, raising a hand. "I am thankful for the entertainment however."

"I'm gonna go literally anywhere else," I dismissed myself, unable to take the uncomfortable situation any longer.

Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and walked away. To my surprise, Wanda trailed after, falling into step with me.

I glanced at her unhappily, quirking a brow. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, don't be mad at me because your brother's an idiot," she said with a wag of her hand.

I gave her a suggestive look. "I told you to behave."

She pressed her lips together in a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry... Y/B/N was talking about you and Pietro and I– well, I don't like sharing, remember?"

The improper glint in her eye as she stopped before me, watching with amusement, made me feel warm all of a sudden. That day when she first told me that and we proceeded to make love flashed to mind, and she seemed to know as she had a mischievous look on her face.

Clearing my throat, I pointed a finger her way. "Behave."

I should have known by the devilish look in her eyes that she wouldn't.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [5]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats, implied ptsd, violence

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: sam wilson nation how are we feeling after that trailer. only about a month to go for my two dumbasses to get the recognition they deserve!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Where are they?”

“We don’t know, boss.”

Their eyes glossed over with rising anger, masking its earlier aloofness.

“I’m going to need more than ‘I don’t know’.” Their voice was acidic, dripping with faux politeness. A bad sign.

“Police say they pulled off the highway at one point and then they lost track of them because there were no cameras.” The agent looked at his partner who only nodded in confirmation.

“They could have ditched the car before going on foot,” the partner suggested rather unhelpfully,  “We have no idea where they could be”

They were silent, mouth pressed in a hard line, leaving everyone in silence.

“Have I told you about the time my dad hired someone to fix the sink here?” they finally asked, looking away from the agents. “Some drunk fuck got in a fistfight and absolutely decimated the thing. Dad got someone to fix the hole in the wall and the fitting.”

They turned away, facing the wall.

“He did an alright job, that guy. Fixed up the place, installed a new sink. But there was a problem that he said he’d be able to fix only the next day, something about water dripping through an unsealed pipe.”

The agents just sat there on their chairs, feet cold. They knew where the story was going. It was a myth at their organisation, a cautionary tale to everyone who joined.

“My dad, he agreed. Said ‘Yeah sure, come back tomorrow’. Guy packed up his bag and was on his way out when my dad called him back. Asked him to hold out his hand for the money and then he just,” they paused, “cut one of his fingers clean off. Told him that he’d get his payment and his finger when the job was done.”

“I loved my father,” They skipped a beat before whipping their head around to look at the two agents. “But he was a coward. I would have shot him in the head.”

The agents looked paler than what they were a few seconds ago.

“If I tell you to do something, either do it perfectly or don’t do it all because the next time you’re here and those two are still alive,” they sneered, lunging forward to grab one of their collars, “I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes boss,” the partner was barely audible, speaking for the one who was breathing heavily, looking like he was on the verge of passing out.

“Go on then.” They smiled, letting go of the agent’s collar as he stayed frozen in his place. They dusted their hands off before straightening up. “Don’t return without good news.”

The frustration of not knowing something was not one you were used to.

You were used to knowing. The satisfaction of a puzzle. The ease of a predictable pattern.

So when this mystery wasn’t getting solved within twenty minutes, it was starting to affect you. You spent hours staring at the ceiling, replaying every detail for months leading up to the case. Every client you shook hands with. Every coworker you greeted with a nod. Every vile sicko you had killed.

And yet, no matter how much you thought and rethought and rethought again, it simply didn’t make sense. There was a piece missing. A hidden variable.

Sam helped wherever he could. He offered up arguments and rebuttals. If you had a theory, he’d find the flaw or the lack of proof. He was keeping it reasonable. Only snorted when you suggested that maybe the president was involved in a large scale extermination of underground mafias. A absurd theory that had no roots in reality.

“You could point out any official on the damn senate and they would have some connection to our gang that you can dig up with one Red Bull and twenty minutes on the internet,” he had said. “It’s too much of a liability if we get caught. They’ll just get exposed for all the nasty shit they’ve been hiding under the carpet.”

You knew this, of course, and it didn’t help to be reminded of it again because it also meant that one more theory was ruled out. And with each theory ruled out, the further away you were from your answer.

It was frustrating.

Sam was in front of the TV, lounging on the couch with the copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hands. You were working on plausible solutions, drawing up flow charts to see what could be connected.

If Pierce wasn’t the common link then it had to be something else. You couldn’t proceed with the other spies theory because no one else immediately sprung to mind. There was one... but you decided against writing it.

If Ransone was telling the truth, and there was no way of knowing he was, Sam and you were unrelated and his being there was coincidental. You just had to rely on the employee-employer relationship you shared, if you could even call it that.

“Fuck,” you cursed loudly, tearing up the piece of paper and crumpling it. You groaned, holding your head in your hands. Your eyes were burning from straining it for too long and your shoulders were in pain from slumping over the table all day. 

You took a deep breath, shaking your head before instinctively reaching for another sheet. Your hand came up short so you fumbled around the table blindly, trying to grab at a piece of paper without spending the extra effort of searching.

“You’re not getting another sheet,” Sam’s voice came from above you. “You’re going to watch some shitty movie, eat some soup and relax for today.”

“Give it back, Wilson,” you muttered, reaching out your hand.

“No. You can use your unhealthy coping mechanism when I’m not around to see it. Half of this is my mess too and I’m not going to watch you have a breakdown over it.”

He was going to be annoyingly persistent; somehow he had exhibited that magnificently over the last few days. You knew better than to argue with him over something that he had made his mind up about by now.

“I don’t want to watch a movie.” You let your head fall onto the table, wishing that the cool wood would do something for the headache you felt coming.

You heard him set the paper back down, not saying a word. Your head was throbbing and all you wanted was the frustration to ease. It was killing you.

“Come on. We’re going outside.” That piqued your interest. Sam had never invited you anywhere before.

“Where?”

“Y’know; the outside. I know you haven’t seen it in a while but see if these words jog your memory. Sun. Grass. Win-”

“I know what the outdoors is, Wilson.” You smiled against the table, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing it. “I’m asking where exactly we’re going.”

“You’ll see. Put some shoes on.”

By the time you looked up he was already walking away from the table, leaving you to follow.

You sighed. He sounded too determined and you didn’t have many other options.

Pushing your chair away from the table, you went to go put on your shoes. __

“If in care you were planning to, I’m just going to tell you right now that you can’t kill me.”

The both of you had been wandering along the path for a while. When you met him by the backdoor, he had a bag with him filled with who knows what.

He declined to tell you what was in it either, despite you asking thrice.

“Calm down, Keanu Reeves. That’s not what I was going to do.” Sam gave a short laugh.

“I’m serious. I know karate.”

“So do I.”

“Krav Maga.”

He hummed in agreement. 

“Kickboxing.”

“Now you’re just insulting me. That’s level one.”

The path was littered with tree roots that stuck out of the soil, stray branches and leaves that crunched satisfactorily under your feet. One second of distraction and you were sure you’d fall flat to the ground. 

You both continued for a few more minutes before he finally came to a stop.

It didn't look very different from the rest of the woods until something caught your eye. In front of you, one of the trees stood out. The bark had large concentric circles, resembling a large dart board. A few indentations were already made in it; clearly it was being used for practice regularly.

“Here you go,” he spoke from beside you, handing you a tomahawk. “Go ahead, throw it at it.”

You looked at the tiny axe in his hand.

“Think of it as adult darts,” he encouraged, “Here, I’ll throw the first one.”

He extended his arm in front of him, pulling his wrist back before effortlessly throwing it at his makeshift board. It was two circles away from the bullseye he had carved out. It must have taken a while to make.

“This doesn’t look very safe,” you commented as he picked up another one, launching it at the tree. You followed its trajectory, watching it embed itself into the bark closer to the centre than the previous turn.

“That’s what makes it fun.” This man had no regard for safety protocols. Given, these were things that came with the job but it didn’t mean you did it in your free time. “It helps, just try.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked curiously, trying to assess his reaction. Pulling you out of the house for a bar game wasn’t exactly the type of thing people generally did for you.

“Because I wanted to.” He shrugged, not giving you any further explanation. “Try one.”

“Okay.” You followed his example, watching as it glided smoothly before landing close to his initial throw.

“Nice shot.”

A smile made its way to your face automatically as he handed you another one. You repeated your action, an unusual sense of pride establishing itself in you when it came closer to the middle.

“Now what?”

“Now we collect and do the whole thing again till you feel better,” Sam replied, making his way towards the tree and plucking the small axes out easily. His back muscles tightened against the material of his shirt in the process. It wasn’t a bad sight at all. “Endorphins and all that.

“Is this where you keep disappearing to?” you inquired, taking two of them from him when he returned.

“Sometimes.” He took aim before throwing it at the board. “There’s a few things you can do around here.”

“Your coping mechanism is extreme sports without proper guidelines.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” Sam took a step to the side, giving you space to take your turn.

“Have you always been this wise, or?” you teased, concentrating on the circles in front of you. Your shot came pretty close. 

When you didn’t receive a reply, you glanced at him through your peripheral vision. He wasn’t moving, a thousand yard stare in his eyes.

“Hit it.”

“I can’t.” His fists were bleeding through the bandages wound around them. He could feel the tear in his skin, the burn of flesh against sweat soaked clothes.

“I said, hit it,” Emil commanded once more. Sam could feel his chest rising and falling steadily from beside him, his putrid breath making him want to vomit.

“I can’t.” He could barely stand up. Exhaustion seeped through every muscle in his body.

“You’re weak,” his trainer spat. “Nothing but a fucking child.”

“He’ll die.” Sam looks down at the boy, bloody and mangled on the floor. He had passed out ages ago but that did nothing to stop them from forcing Sam to continue relentlessly.

“It doesn’t deserve mercy. You hear that Wilson?” He leered right into his ear. “Do you fucking hear that?”

Sam flinched, nodding his head. The saltiness of his sweat was fresh on his tongue, burning where it dripped onto his busted lip from his forehead.

“So fucking finish it.” He knew that if he didn’t listen this time, there would be consequences. He didn’t want to find out what it was because he had no doubt it would pain a hell of a lot more than bruised knuckles.

“No,” he whispered, eyes wandering over the body on the floor. “I won’t.”

“What’d you say?” Emil straightened up, taking a step towards him.

“I said no.” Sam turned around on his heel. He could barely stand straight but the spite running through his veins was driving him, giving him enough energy to not collapse right there on the spot.

“He said no,” his trainer repeated, leaning away from Sam. “He said no.”

He turned to look at Ransone. Sam had forgotten he was there in the darkness of the room, observing the fight for the past two hours.

“He said no.” He started chuckling. His chuckles soon gave way to hideous laughter. Stomach clutching, tear inducing laughter.

Before Sam could even realise the change in attitude, Emil’s entire demeanour shifted. He stepped forward, forcefully gripping Sam’s neck. He shoved him backward until his back was pressed against the wall, no doubt bruising his spine further than what it was.

“Say that again, you fucking idiot,” he growled. But Sam couldn’t say anything. He could barely breathe. He was terrified, but determined not to let it show on his face. “When I say something, you better fucking listen.”

His trainer observed his expression for a few more seconds. Sam didn’t open his mouth.

His trainer finally loosened his grip, letting go of his neck.

Sam’s knees nearly buckled but he kept his balance, coughs racking through his body. He felt lightheaded, swollen eyes watching Emil walk towards the body on the floor. The only friend he had.

“Maybe this oughta teach you a lesson.” Emil flashed a quick smirk at Sam before raising his fist above Riley’s face.

Within a split second a guttural cry escaped his throat as he launched himself at the much larger trainer, taking him by surprise. The pure rage he was feeling had him seeing only red, the adrenaline steering his body on autopilot.  

With their position suddenly switched, Sam found himself on top of Emil, bloody fists beating down on his face without a break. The pain didn’t even matter anymore.

“Fuck you,” he screamed, not giving him even a second to defend himself. “Fuck you, you fucking dickhead.”

When he could feel his trainer raising his arm to grab from behind, he took a pause from pummelling his face to grab his arm, twisting sharply it till he heard a crack. The roar escaping Emil’s throat didn’t dissuade him from finishing what he started, returning to landing a punch wherever he could.

He didn’t even know how long had passed before his body was being pulled away, kicking and cursing.

“You see how good it feels Wilson? You feel that relief?” Ransone held him tightly as he squirmed furiously trying to get back to beating the shit out of that asshole on the ground. “Next time you’re angry, remember that’s the only way to feel good. If you’re in pain, you cause pain.”

Sam’s flailing was reducing as the adrenaline wore off. The exhaustion was beginning to take hold of his body as he looked at the onslaught of blood splatter everywhere, two bodies side by side on the ground. He did this to both of them.

“Violence is your only friend. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Ransone let go of him. His feet gave out beneath him, chest rising and falling heavily. His shoulders ached as he dragged his body towards Riley, praying to every force in the universe that he wasn’t dead.

He was still breathing. Sam nearly cried out of relief, collapsing next to him. Ready to defend him if Emil woke up.

“Next time you want to let out some anger, come find me,” Ransone called out. “I’ll find you your next victim.”

“You okay?” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Earth to Wilson.”

It seemed to work as he snapped back, blinking rapidly.

“You zoned out a little there. Everything alright?” you asked. He looked at you blankly for a second before realising what you asked.

“Yeah.” He gave you a half smile. “Yeah, I’m good. You done with your turn?”

The light that was there behind his eyes a few minutes ago had dimmed considerably. He looked weary. You recognised what had happened, what he was probably thinking of. You didn’t bring it up, not risking the chance of him reliving it.

“Kinda.” You pointed towards the target where a tomahawk was sticking out of the centre.

“Damn,” he whistled, resting his hands on his waist. “Best of three?”

“Didn’t know it was a competition.” You went to collect it. It was harder to pull out than you thought. You wondered how many times Sam had practiced it to make it look so effortless.

“Only if you want it to be.”

“Nah.” You walked towards him, handing two of them back to him. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time, huh.” He tested his throw before letting go of the handle. Bullseye. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

You only smiled.

Next part

[extremelyblackandwhite]

champagne problems

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: smut

a/n: oooo smut. the next chapter is the last and i’m depressed about it already

TOLERATE IT - TIS THE DAMN SEASON

Bustling crowds or silent sleepers, you’re not sure which is worse ...

Her shift dragged; it seemed as if the clock was stuck and moving only a minute after three hours had passed and even though there was the same sea of people coming through the doors of the club, the shift felt slow. Everything was in slow motion and her eyes daren’t move from the bar. Bobby was still on holiday and as such it as merely her, ignoring everyone and every word which came her way and ignoring Edward who kept nagging her about Mr. Barnes, a person who she didn’t want to look at.

She didn’t understand how one could just pretend to be entranced by another one and just turn it on yet she would also not debate her mind about what her feelings were for her boss, the same boss she was supposed to betray. She was supposed to betray him and yet she didn’t know how or even if she wanted to. Why should she? They clearly had sent Edward in and him being the spineless vermin he was, she was sure he’d quickly join his group by quickly sleeping with the woman who surrounded the mob boss. The women ... the women were always so beautiful, beautiful enough to make Y/N want to make herself up before she came up to the bar, feeling too bland next to the gorgeous women who paraded around him. Beautiful dresses, spotless faces, beautiful makeup, beautiful hair and here she was, in her old cardigan cleaning the bar with dirty rags stinking of a mix between bleach, peanuts and booze. 

Once the lights were up and every single glass was washed and placed on their due shelf for tomorrow she was out. Bag hanging from her shoulder and books against her chest, she took the backdoor. The front door always had freshly drunk or high people whom she wanted no problems with. As she pushed the door open, she saw him, smoking in front of him car looking so effortlessly cool, chic even. It was pouring, raining so harshly it would drench anyone who dared step foot in yet he just stood there unbothered, cigarette still somehow burning, water drops rolling of his trench coat. Usually she would’ve entered the car and allow herself to be driven home; instead she turned her head to the side, pretending she hadn’t seen him. He, however, had seen her. 

      - Wanda picking you up today, petal? - he said in a mocking tone, throwing the butt onto the bin.

      - No, sir. - she stopped, still not daring to look at him. - I thought about walking home alone. 

      - At night? When it’s pouring? Sometimes I think you like to get hurt, petal. 

      - With all due respect, Mr. Barnes, I think I should go by myself.

      - Please. - he sighed, hands on his hips. - Get in the car, I’ll drive you the fastest I can. You don’t even need to look my way. 

Her lips tightened. It was pouring rain, her clothes were already as drenched as they could be and she had been less than 10 minutes. She sighed, walking through puddles of water towards and away from him and inside his car, setting against the leathered seats. Bucky chuckled, watching from the side of his eye as she crossed her arms across her chest like a kid, avoiding his gaze as if he were the devil. Maybe he was, but he would never act like it in front of her.

She watched the rain fall down the window like waterfalls. It was bad, bad enough she could start seeing the water almost pool on the asphalt of the road. As they kept driving through the darkness, only the headlights giving light to the dark road until blinding lights came into their front view. Police came into view with their lights but all she could see was the bar barring the only way into her road. Bucky pulled the window down, charming smile as the cop realised who he was speaking with. She looked at her knees, perfectly knowing who it was, perfectly knowing if he discovered who she was so would James and she was locked in a car with him. Not a good combination.

     - Evening, officer. What seems to be the problem?

     - Mr. Barnes, sir. - she tipped his cap at him. - The road is flooded. We feared this and warned all residents to be at home before 5PM. 

     - I understand, officer but you see my employee here lives just down the road. Can’t I walk her in? Come on, you know I always pay you back, double even.

     - It’s up to your knees, sir. You’re better off in a hotel for the night, m’am. Safety protocol. 

James turned around his car making her look his way as he started driving away from her home. What was he doing? How was she supposed to go back home and how was she supposed to calm down when he was driving her away from her home. Was he going to drop her at a hotel? Was he going going to drop her, she didn’t know. She opened her mouth, waiting for words to come out but nothing came out. She didn’t know what to ask, what to say other than yell at him to let her out yet she didn’t. Y/N didn’t want to yell at him. 

He noticed this, slowing down the normal fast pace at which he liked to drive, only now hearing to both of them breathing and the water drops of rain hit the windows. He could see her, through the mirror, her face leaning against the window, eyes reflection a sort of fight he was sure never to completely understand, only partially knowing. His eyes returned to the road ahead, the lights of each house dimming as everyone prepared to hold each other tight, hold their loved ones as the storm continued. He could only look at himself, almost as his vision refused to notice she was right there but she was. Both locked in the same car. 

     - You can stay at my place tonight. - he mumbled. - You’ve been there before. I’ll drive you back first thing in the morning. 

She didn’t replied, instead letting her own eyes close momentarily, head laying against the water stained glass. She listened to the rain, considering all her life choices or what she was even doing. Was she okay with becoming this close to the mob boss? Becoming part of the inner group of females who followed him, just another name in a big list. Was that the question she should be asking? No. Did she really want to ask herself the question she had to? Also no. It was much easier to tell herself it was business. It was much easier to lie than tell the truth.

Y/N opened her eyes once again as the car slowed down and the sounds of rain drops were no longer around heard. They were parked inside his garage, one which she had seen before. He was the first one out the car, opening the door before walking away. She made haste to get off the car, almost power walking after him as he pressed the lift’s button to open the doors. The doors slide open and he stepped in, her following behind.

    - I’ll be sleeping in a hotel down the street so you can calm down. 

    - You can stay if you want. I mean, it’s your house. 

    - Why should I? So you can freak out about the possibility of me killing you?

    - That’s not it. 

    - Afraid I’m going to force myself on you? - he scoffed. - You know what, Y/N? I’m just not gonna be there and you can do whatever you want without blaming me for whatever theories you have. 

    - Why are you so mad suddenly? 

    - I’m not mad.

    - Yes, you are. - she crossed her arms. - Excuse me if I don’t feel comfortable around you when you have more than two hundred kills blamed on you, when you’re constantly surrounded by girls and the rumours and the guns you always carry. 

   - I’ve killed two people in my whole life. Two. - he pointed his finger at her, making her take a step back. - They deserved it and I’m so tired of trying to make you feel safe. I get you a job and you’re upset, I get you a job waitressing so idiots won’t treat you like shit and you think I’m being the bad guy. I drive you home every single time and you still look at me as if I’m going to kill you. You can think whatever you want, I’m done. 

She was going to rebuff him, tell him he was wrong but that wasn’t true. She couldn’t say he was wrong out of principle and because once the doors slide open, he disappeared into his big apartment. Y/N stayed behind, heart heavy as she threw her soaked bag onto the couch, sitting on it with a huff. Like a kid she put her hand under her chin, she knew he was right. Of course she knew. But she was the captain’s daughter, she was the one who’d heard tales and seen photos of terrible crimes on the kitchen table when she came in to show her dad her drawings. She knew it, she just didn’t exactly knew what he did. It was all very hush hush, mostly rumours, which ran from people to people and like the game of the broken phone, things got distorted.

She was the captain’s daughter but this wasn’t her. It wasn’t her identity. She knew better not to judge someone by rumours and gossip, her mother had taught her better than that yet she wanted to have her little walls. She wanted to be surrounded by that wall, that wall which said she felt absolutely nothing and that she was doing a good job. Y/N knew, she knew way too well what having those walls crumbling would mean. It would mean she was a woman infatuated with a man. Plain and simple, except it wasn’t and it wasn’t just a woman and just a man, it was the captain’s daughter and the mob boss. She knew not to slap labels on things but this is what it was, this was what she had been her whole life, not Y/N, not the nurse student, not her last name but the Captain’s daughter and him, him it was the same. She could count the number of people who knew his full name or even his first name in one hand. He was the boss. The mob boss, Barnes. Never James Buchanan Barnes. 

She sighed, looking to the chess board in the table in front of her. However, unlike everything else in the room which was absolutely spotless, organised and unseeingly unlived in, the chess board was still in the same position they had left it. Her fingers grazed the black chess king, holding it up to her eyes. The piece she had won.

His shoes hit the linoleum floor making her look his way. He had a small leather carry on, something quite stylish and refused to make eye contact with her instead walking straight to the elevator.

     - Mr. Barnes. - she perked up from the couch, getting his attention instantly. If she only knew. - Can you entertain me for a second?

     - I’m leaving, Y/N. What do you need?

     - Sit down. - she pointed at the couch in front of her. Bucky scoffed, for someone who was afraid of him killing her, she sure didn’t mind ordering him around. Her. The bartender. - Play with me. 

      - Play with you? - he dropped the suitcase to the floor, walking slowly to the chair in front of her. She sat against her own chair like a throne and so did he, standing in front of her. - You should be careful with your word choice.

      - You should be careful with me winning again.

      - I’ve learned all your moves, petal. I’m an observant player. 

      - I doubt that.

Bucky leaned over, setting his pieces as she did the same. Soon enough they were back to playing. Bucky observed her, watching as every play was so calculated, never by chance, lip in the middle of her teeth as she smoothly moved her pieces around almost like a ballet dance. Bucky remembered playing against more experienced players. “Chess is the game of the mind, James. You need to almost control and predict them to win” his teacher would tell him. She was impossible to read, always looking deep in thought yet so calm and collected, he guessed she needed that for the field she was in.

His pieces were dropped on her side, her taking what was his without any doubt until she stole his queen. Now, James’ knew not to play anymore. It was a courtesy of chess, yet she still didn’t look or carried the air of someone who had just won her game. Instead she looked at him, waiting for his move. Bucky leaned against his chair. 

      - You won. I should be leaving, it’s late. 

      - Wait, just .... why don’t you stay for a bit? We could talk, I’m not that tired yet. 

      - Petal, it’s late.

      - I’ll fix you a drink.

      - You can’t fix a scotch if your live depended on it. - he chuckled. - How about I fix you a drink? What’s your poison?

      - Can I get some tea? 

      - Sure. - he shrugged. - Which one do you want?

     - You have more than one type of tea? - she smirked, legs crossed over one another, the old wool dress still clinging to her skin due to the soaking wet fabric. James tried not to eye her, instead turning his back before he could be blamed of checking her out. - You don’t strike me as the type of person to like tea.

     - Maybe I’m just trying to impress you. 

     - Then in that case you should have biscuits. - she turned around on the couch, knees of the cushioned seat as she stared at him in the kitchen. He looked exactly like the type of man on the cover of an IKEA magazine, those ones were a shirtless man is holding a coffee cup like every morning after sex fantasy of every woman. 

     - I do have biscuits, petal. Which ones do you want?

     - Which ones do you have?

     - Try me.

     - Chocolate covered digestives. Only one side chocolate. 

     - An educated choice. - he opened one of the many drawers of his kitchen, pulling an acrylic container fulled to the brim with the same biscuits she had described. A man of taste indeed. He handed them a plate with three biscuits followed by the one tea cups he had which were his coffee mugs, always spotless white. She envied how pristine everything was in his home. In her flat, half the cutlery was hers, the other half Wanda’s and none matched with one being bright blue and the other one bright red. 

As for him, she knew what he drank, always the same, always the same old scotch. At this point she wondered if he liked it or if it was a power symbol. Big powerful man drinking the most expensive scotch in the world. At least it was the most expensive scotch when she researched it on her laptop on a particularly boring lecture. Yet, it somehow wasn’t the drink which gave him that untouchable appearance. It was him. 

    - I have a question. - he moved the glass away from his lips, pinkie finger pointing at her. - How come you ended up dating my cleaning boy?

    - We didn’t date. - she snorted, completely forgetting who she was speaking with. - His mother and my father dated for a long time after my mum died .. to be honest, I think it started before my mum died. Anyway, she had this awfully annoying kid, first time he came in he broke the head of my doll.

    - Oh no, petal. Should I break his head? - James joked, downing whatever was left of his scotch.

    - I would take you up on that. - Y/N rolled her eyes. - Dad always liked him, he once told me he was the child he never had.

    - Ouch. 

    - Well, he wanted a boy. - she leaned against the cushioned coach. - I don’t know why he said we dated, I would never.

    - Good.

    - Why do you ask? - she leaned her head against her shoulder

    - You have potential, petal. I thought maybe being around him would make him want to get back together ... I mean, you’re going to be a nurse.

    - Don’t trust him. - she held the mug against both her hands. 

    - Pardon?

    - Don’t trust him. Edward, I mean. Don’t tell him anything, don’t say anything, just don’t trust him.

    - You know something I don’t? - he put both his hands on either side of the couch’s handles. 

    - Promise me.

    - Petal ...

    - Promise me. - she cupped his face, looking him deep into those baby blue eyes she had gotten so used to see every day. - Promise me, okay? Just ... you don’t need to know. Promise me.

    - Petal, I’d do everything for you. - he rested his hand against her warm cheek. She reacted to his touch, leaning against his rough palm. Her eyes travelled towards his, looking at him like someone she’d knew from. Like an old friend. He leaned towards her, nose against hers. 

Her eyes flustered, cheeks warm and she no longer knew if it was due to the apartment’s heating or because he was looking at her that way. She closed her eyes, listening to the small sounds of the environment surrounding her. Bucky kissed her forehead as her eyes opened and the world seemed to stop for a while as if she was living her own version of a 1950′s romantic movie. Her finger caressed his cheek.

    - Well, you shouldn’t do everything for me. I’ll break your heart.

    - Already broken.

Y/N’s lip quivered at those words. It was if he had been meaning to say them but had held them in for so long, forceful forbidding himself to even think it and it broke her heart to hear it. She leaned her forehead against his, looking at him with a look Bucky didn’t remember seeing. God, he was so used to seeing fear in other’s faces that he almost forgot what ... it didn’t mind anymore. He’d done that mistake once early this day and he wasn’t going to do it again. She didn’t want him and he wasn’t going to try and convince her. She doesn’t belong in his world and she doesn’t belong in his. 

     - Kiss me. - Bucky didn’t think twice, immediately kissing her as if his life depended on it.

He pulled her away from the couch’s rest, pulling her towards him and caging her in his hold as her hands fell from his face and rested upon his shoulders. His jacket was discarded to the corner of the room, leaving the mob boss only in his soft black dress up shirt. His hands pulled at the hem of her dress which peeled off her body almost perfectly, the sheen on the water on her beautiful skin which made him want to run his lips over it. Her fingers grazed over the dark buttons of his shirt, pulling them off their own fabric rips to open his shirt which slide down his perfect physic. Her dress hanged by her hips as he raised her to lay atop his lap, throwing the chess board to the floor as his hands roamed her back. The pieces fell to the ground, some breaking, some rolling but none of them really cared too lost on each other.

Bucky turned her around, laying her atop the coffee table before sitting in the same couch she had been sitting. He could just look at her forever - warm damp skin, lips half open, irregular breathing, innocent knowing eyes. He could look at that forever and be happy yet all he wanted was to feel her, kiss her skin, sense the faint smell of the Daisy perfume she would reapply behind the bar every once in a while. He smirked, leaning over her body, one hand gathering both her hands above her head while the other held her waist, lips leaning from her jaw to her neck. She whined, fingers moving and wrists turning as she tried to free herself from his grip, wanting to hold him but he didn’t allow her. Instead, Bucky started sucking on her pressure point, wanting to leave a mark for others to see before moving to her collarbones, down her perfect swells and to her belly button.

He smirked as he reached where her dress was hanging. He pulled it slowly out of her legs coming face to face with her beige underwear with a little bow up top. A little present for him to open. 

Y/N could feel his finger grazing her skin, dragging teasingly. He was so close, so close to her core and yet so far. All she wanted to do was push him to do it but he had her hands tightly caged in his hand. She looked at him with pleading eyes, almost pouting making him chuckle at how needy she was. He would’ve toy with her had he not want to feel her for so long.

He dragged her underwear down her legs, throwing it across his living room before setting himself on his knees in front of her. There he was, the most powerful man in the town kneeled in front of her, kissing her leg from her ankle to the apex of her thigh. All she could feel was his soft lips contrasting with the rough stubble he had which made the mix of emotions much more interesting. It was slow yet hungry at the same time and she expected him to keep at it until his lips moved to her core abruptly. She held it a moan on her throat, oxygen punched out of her lungs as she moved her head to the side. 

Bucky hooked both her legs over her shoulders, getting the access he so wanted, getting her where he’d always wanter her. She moaned uncontrollably as his tongue teased her entrance, lips suckling her bud. Y/N wanted to hold onto his head, pull on his hair and her fingers kept contracting as she fought his handle of her hands. It was too much, so much she could feel herself start to cry, not remembering the last time someone had paid this much attention to her. She tried not to focus on him eating her out, feeling like if she did she’d come down from her high as fast as she had gotten there. Once he started moaning against her core, the vibration drove her over the edge yet he remained there licking and lapping at whatever she had to offer as she regained her breathe. 

    - You okay there, petal? - he rose, leaning over to kiss her, releasing her hands. As if they were magnetic, she cupped his face, feeling his skin against her fingers. He pulled his lips away from her, expecting an answer but she only nodded, hands leaving his face to travel to his trousers to try and push them down. Bucky aided her with that, pushing his trousers down and pulling her closer.

He could see his eyes look into his, so beautiful yet so lustful at the same time. God this woman, he thought to himself, this woman is gonna end me. His hand searched for hers, intertwining his fingers with hers as he slowly started to enter her, her walls accommodating him like they were made for each other. She forcefully shut her eyes, the sting being the first thing she felt, not used to being stretched out like that.

   - It’s okay, petal. - he kissed her forehead. - We can stop, do you wanna stop?

   - No. - she moaned, the sting started to fade as pleasure gave way. He got her signal and started to slowly rock in and out of her, eyes glued to were they were both connected. Dear God. He couldn’t help but pick up the pace at the sound of her lustful moans, leaning down to kiss her as he lost control over what pace they were at, instead going by instinct. 

She could feel and hear everything; her walls tightening around him, milking him for what he was worth it, the groans that sounded like moans that he would let out, his lips never leaving hers no matter how messy the kiss became, the slapping sound of their skin meeting.  The room was hot, filled with sighs and groans and moans, something pornographic. 

    - Come on, petal. You’re gonna come undone for me, yeah? Just for me. - he tried to get a grip on himself as she started to clench on him more often. His hands came up behind her back, slowly raising it from the coffee table as he quickened his pace, still panting but not stopping as if he had been possessed by an incubus. How could he stop? How could he stop when she looked like that, head thrown back, lips swollen and open, fucking perfect. 

A high pitched moan made the room go completely new, it was almost as if she were high, white spots crowding her view as she let her muscles relax and fall back. James held her, throwing himself to the couch behind him, her on top of him as ropes of white spurted inside of her and spilled onto the couch. Fuck, he wanted to keep those stains so he could remember. Her head rested against his shoulder, breathing returning to normal as he kissed her hair. 

      - If you wanted me to stay so badly, you could’ve just asked. - he grinned, kissing her head once more.

      - Shut up. - she giggled, turning her head to look at him. - Hi.

      - Hi. - he smiled. His hand blindly searched for one of the many useless blankets that adorned his couches to wrap her in. Once he found one, he drapped it over her back, managing to get up and walk to her room.

She wanted to stay awake, she wanted to stay awake and spend the night talking to him but once the blanket draped over her back, she was good as gone. 

The morning rose with its cloudy skies, the dim lighting awaking her up as she rose her head from the bed, hair made into a tangled mess. He had an arm over her, face to her back, softly sleeping. She wondered why it was so surprising to see him like that, even mob bosses sleep but he just looked so peaceful, so ... so normal. Almost as if they could be a regular couple just like everyone else. She shifted in bed, to look at him, her slight moves immediately awaking him but he chose to keep his eyes close, not wanting her to worry about waking him up. 

   - I know you’re awake. - she said, voice laced with sleep as she noticed his breathe pattern change as well as his eyelids twitching. - James. 

   - Bucky. - he corrected. - You can call me James when I’m fucking you but I prefer Bucky. 

   - Bucky. - she repeated. - I like that.

   - Do you wanna have breakfast? - he opened his eyes. - Anything you want. 

   - You’re gonna cook me breakfast or are you gonna force the shops to open at ... - she looked at her watch, colour draining from her face. - 10AM. Holy shit, I’m late.

   - Y/N ... - he laughed as she got out of the bed, bed sheet wrapped around her body as she searched his room for her clothing. - It’s drying in the bathroom, petal. 

   - I’M LATE. I’M LATE TO THE ONLY CLASS I LIKE. - she rushed over to the bathroom, almost tripping on the large sheet. Bucky stood on his side, watching her with a silly grin as she pulled the dress over her body along with her underwear. - STOP STARING, YOU’RE DRIVING. 

   - You’re calling the shots now? - he cocked an eyebrow at her. 

   - I’m late. - she kneeled on his bed, trying to push him out of it. - Bucky, c’mon.

   - No, petal. You’re already late, just stay the day with me. I’ll even give you the day off. 

   - I have to graduate first. - she crossed her arms.

   - Okay. 

Bucky was quick to get dressed, grabbing his car keys from the hook on the door before taking her down to the garage and into the car. Y/N pushed down the mirror, trying to fix whatever mess he had done to her. There was not much she could do but try and comb her hair and push her dress’ neckline up to try and hide the hickeys. She kept looking at her watch, wondering if she’d make it and as he parked in front of her department’s building, she only had 5 minutes to go. It felt more like a one night stand but desperate times called for desperate measures and besides she was working this night so she could explain to him that she wasn’t trying to bail.

   - I can’t drive you home tonight, petal. Gotta receive a shipping by the docks. Sam will probably drive you, I’ll speak with him at the club and I’ll let you know before I leave.

   - It’s okay I can ask Pietro or Wanda. 

   - Go on before you’re actually late for it. - he opened her door and she sprinted like a mad woman.

As she walked into the lecture hall, most of her colleagues, including Wanda, were already sat on. She shamefully hide her head, climbing up the stairs to the middle row where Wanda had kindly saved her a seat and was probably wondering where she had been and why she hadn’t called. Once she sat, down, the questions ran down on her. 

   - You look like hell, Y/N. God, why do you even have a phone if you don’t call me or Pietro? 

   - I’m sorry, they had blocked the road.

   - Did they block your phone signal?

   - No. - she sighed. - Hey, you think Pietro or you can pick me up today? Mr. Barnes is receiving a shipment tonight.

   - He’s receiving a shipment? Do you know where?

   - Uhm ... yes.

   - Good, that means you can tell your father and you can finally quit that god awful job and behave like regular Y/N.

She had forgotten. She knew where the shipment was, she had the smoking gun, she was done, right? Why did it felt so heavy? That was what she was put into his life for, to get information yet she couldn’t find herself to send the text to her father. The rest of the day she stared at her phone, at her father’s number, her fingers hovering over the keypad. She knew the answer, docks. Five letters, one word. There was only that place yet writing those five letters seemed to be the hardest thing in the world. She had time, she told herself. She had time to send her father the message so she spent the day ignoring it.

As she walked on the cobblestones that led to the bar, her resolve only broke looser. She didn’t want to send that text, he didn’t deserve that, he didn’t deserve to have her stab him in the back. She didn’t want to stab him in the back, that was not her. Maybe that was what they wanted of her but it wasn’t her and it was not going to be her. As she stepped inside the already half full bar, she turned off her phone. Nobody needs to know, nobody will know. As she told herself those words, someone pushed her arm, throwing her onto the supply cupboard. She looked up to see Edward locking the door behind them.

  - What the fuck? I have a job to do. - she tried to push past him but he stood there. - What do you want?

  - The waiters said they saw you get in the car with Barnes.

  - So? - she crossed her arms. - He drives me home.

  - I knew you shouldn’t be in the case. I mean, you’re a wannabe nurse and you think you’re in the big league.

  - What is that supposed to mean? I was put up to this way before you were.

  - Wonder why? You’re doing a shit job and now you’re fucking sleeping with Barnes? I always knew you got what you wanted but I never knew you were a mob boss’ whore now. 

  - Oh fuck off, Edward. - she tried to push him once again but he pushed her back and further into the cupboard.

  - Where’s the shipment, Y/N? Do the right thing and you can go back to sucking him off. 

  - You can go to hell.

  - WHERE IS IT? - he pushed her against the wall but she spat on his face. - Fine, you know what fine. Guys like him are never gonna go to prison, he’s just gonna buy his way out. If you want things done, do them yourself.

   - Don’t do anything stupid, Edward. - she pleading, following him as he walked to the door. - You’re not gonna win. Just give up.

   - I hope you fucked him goodbye. - his hand went into the hem of his pants, she knew damn well what he was about to grab and about to do. She rushed to the door but he locked it on her face. Her heart raced as she started to punch and kick the door, screaming at him to open the door. 

    - Bastard! - she mumbled, looking over the cupboard and at the small window up the top. There was a series of creaky shelves under them. Hopefully it was open. Carefully, she moved the stuff out the shelves and started to climb them until the last one which gave her enough room to push the window open. As she reached for the latch, the window didn’t move. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She looked around, looking for anything to break the window with but everything was merely brooms and old rags. She wrapped an old vodka smelling rag around her hand and sighed. It’s okay, you’ve seen it done in the movies besides it’s an old cupboard, old window. It’s gonna be easy. She bite her lip and swung her hand towards the glass which shattered into her hand, a few pieces lodging into her palm. It was a hole small enough for her to put her hand in and open the latch from outside. As she done it, the window creaked open and she jumped into the small space, wiggling out of it and falling onto the ground.

Once she found herself in the alleyway she ran over to the employees door, opening it and rushing into the dance floor. Her eyes scanned the room, his usual table was empty and he wasn’t either at the bar. Her best option was to try and find him before Edward did. Although she harboured a grudge against him, she could not overpower it. She mixed with the rest of the club goers trying to look for Bucky until she spotted him moving through the crowd. She pushed a few people away, trying to reach him by yelling out his name but the music was too loud. Luckily for her, the crowds were easy enough to overcome and she finally reached him, tugging onto his jacket before he could leave.

  - Hey petal. You’re on your break? - he asked, smiling down at her.

  - Bucky, I need to tell you something.

  - What happened to you hand? - he noticed her bleeding hand. - Did you drop a bottle? Did someone hurt you?

  - Bucky, wait, I ...

  - BARNES! - a voice interrupted her. The crowd screamed and stepped away as Edward held a gun up. Bucky put his arm over her shoulder to push her behind him but she stepped in front of him. 

The sound of the gunshot went off, everyone was screaming and running out of the club but all she could hear was a beep. Her breath seemed to falter once to quicken again as her muscles lost force and she felt herself falling. She awaited to hit the ground but someone held her.

  - FUCKING KILL HIM! - she could hear Bucky’s voice in slow motion almost as everything went darker than the club she was in.

She would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked in the head

taglist: @lookiamtrying @mariamermaid @sebastianstansqueen @unmagically @buckybarnes1982 @mela-noche @lowercasegenius @randomweirdooo @projectcampbell @sebbystanlover-vk @jevans2 @hollarious @itsallyscorner @tcc-gizmachine @saiyanprincessswanie @stuckysavedmylive @vicmc624​ @sebstanfan123​

[timextoxhajima]

Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 6 - Misogynist

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @sunwoowuvbot​

“Don’t offend me.”

“No, I think the best course of action for HERA & ARTEMIS is that we not only branch out to collaborate with other companies, but also to make um… say, connections with non-profit organisations. Orphanages, charities, you name it. The publicity HERA & ARTEMIS will get after being recognised as a community-caring brand, a brand that cares no less than it’s maximum ability to about children, the elderly and the disabled.” 

“Charitable. I like it,” The Resources CEO of The Board nods with a wine of champagne in his glass. even at her own wedding, all the bride can think of is work. All she cares about is how to make sure HERA & ARTEMIS is heard in the crowd of attendees to her wedding. “Anyway, a gorgeous wedding, I must say. What made you have it at home? I’d expect that your father and brother would have wanted it somewhere more… ravish, y’know, more extravagant.” 

It takes some effort to hide her disgust at the thought that her father had a say over where she wanted to have her wedding. 

“Of course not,” The service smile almost feels surgically implanted into her face, even Jang Won herself is put off. “Juyeon and I have already planned this right off the bat, have it at Hera’s Manor.” 

“Why not at the Lee House? I thought the Lee’s would’ve preferred it there, you know, husband and all.” 

Jang Won could’ve slapped the glass of champagne out of his grasp if she wanted to, then probably break the bowl off the stem and send it into his eye. 

Misogynist. 

“We—” 

“The Lee House doesn’t have the facility and resources to hold a wedding now,” Juyeon comes round with a cup of whiskey, cheeks slightly pink from the alcohol as he rounds his arm around Jang Won, pulling her into his torso and even bothering to press a kiss into her temple. “It isn’t as presentable as you’d expect it to be. Hera’s Manor is well-kept and it looks like it’s prepped for a party every other day.” 

Juyeon smiles politely, eyes drifting from the Resources CEO to Jang Won, and for a split second, Jang Won might just feel somewhat impressed he stood up for her. “You know what they say, if you need something done, a lady will do it fast and efficient.”

The Resources CEO provides the newly wedded couple an awkward smile, not really able to spit out a proper response to Juyeon’s rebuttal. 

“Anyway, love, your brother’s asking for you in your office. Some administrative issues that cropped up,” Juyeon pulls away and turns his body, feet already pointing away from the Resources CEO. “If you’ll excuse us, Mr Teuk.” 

Juyeon lowers his head as a sign of respect, though he probably doesn’t mean it. He gently tugs on Jang Won and leads her out of the courtyard. 

“Please tell me there aren’t any actual administrative manners Younghoon wants to talk to me about,” Jang Won seethes as she walks up the yard stairs and into the main hall. 

“‘Course not,” Juyeon subtly shakes his head. “He’s having the time of his life actually, getting acquainted with the other members of The Board. Have you always been the one helping him with Artemis?” 

“In his defence, I don’t let him handle anything. It’s a subsidiary of HERA & ARTEMIS so I might as well take things into my own hands and worry about it on my own.” 

“Well, maybe you should let him figure his hand out at things. He doesn’t legally own Artemis for nothing.” 

Jang Won turns to shoot a look of distaste at Juyeon. 

“What?” He frowns, forehead creasing. “I’m literally telling you to split your workload.”

“I don’t need to split my workload. I’m doing fine on my own and frankly, I’d rather he sit back and let me do most of it so that at least I know what the Hell’s going on with my companies without worrying about any secrets.” 

Juyeon rubs the back of his neck and shoves his hands into his pockets. “In other words, you don’t trust your brother.” 

“Please,” She walks off first, heading for her office where she usually seeks refuge amongst her bottles of whiskey and bourbon and documents. “Just because I love him for being my brother doesn’t mean I should trust him with my finances.” 

“You’re literally born into a family of fortune. Even if he does mess up, you’d be able to recover from it. The consequences would mean absolutely nothing to you.” 

Jang Won pushes the heavy doors of her office open, admiring the late-morning sun that’s spilling all over her chair and her desk. 

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, pretty boy. I choose not to rely on whatever I have at birth because I always felt like whatever my dad had was just handed to him,” She reaches for the ice bucket and picks up a ball of ice, dropping it into the whiskey glass, then coats most of its surface with bourbon. “But God forsake my hard work, huh? I guess if hard work really did pay off then I wouldn’t be standing here, in a wedding-lunch dress, talking to my husband.” 

Juyeon raises both brows and throws himself into one of the sofa seats, the clinking of the whiskey decanter echoing ever so slightly throughout the office. “Ever heard of a holiday? You should go on one.”

She scoffs with exaggeration, the gentle swishing of the alcohol meeting the ice and the glass gleaming like liquid honey under the sunlight. “Yes, because I’m just like you, the one who would run away from the responsibilities he was born into whenever he doesn’t want them.”

“I’m sorry,” Juyeon grimaces, standing up and allowing the silvers of his suit glimmer as he walks into where the sunlight kisses the floor. “Which toe did I step on? I just pulled you out of a situation you would’ve otherwise not wanted to be in.” 

“Unfortunately for you, I didn’t need pulling out. I could’ve handled myself right there and then. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember - I don’t need myself a nanny to save me,” Cocking one of her brows, she gives a wry laugh before downing the shot of whiskey.

Juyeon is in disbelief in her ability to perceive gratitude - or rather, a lack thereof. 

“Maybe your father came back to save HERA & ARTEMIS from your terrible people’s skills, ever thought of that?”

“Wrong again, pretty boy!” She peels the glass off her lips and stares at the lipstick mark. “I’m perfect with the people I wanna be perfect with to get what I want, and when they are of no use to me, I’m well aware I treat them less than average.”

“There it is,” He sneers, stopping right before her as she finishes the last bit of her whiskey. “So, you’re a hypocrite.”

A smirk draws across her lips. Jang Won almost slams the glass back down in the tray of other glasses and the whiskey decanter. “And I’m proud of it. There’s nothing you can do about it, Lee Juyeon. You agreed to play this game my way and now that we’re wearing matching rings. I’m afraid you’ll have to deal with it.”

Jang Won squares up and jabs a finger into his shoulder. But Juyeon catches her wrist and holds it in place, causing her to grunt and attempt to writhe her way out, but to no avail. 

“Kim Jang Won, you listen to me and you listen well. Just because I agreed to play this game by your rules, doesn’t mean I’m your puppet. We both know who will be the more powerful one in May, so my advice?” By now, Juyeon’s nose is almost in her eye. He’s not even bothering to look at her. 

“Don’t offend me.”

Jang Won finally snatches her wrist out of his hold when she feels his grip loosen. Huffing, she stomps past him, shoulder bumping into his arm for good measure as she leaves the office.

Younghoon just about catches his sister rolling her eyes so hard, she was this close to hurling a string of vulgarities at the wooden of her office door. “Hey, what were you doing in your office? People are looking for you!”

Without a word, her eyes are locked with his in frustration. 

“What?” He frowns. 

She thinks for a moment. 

She can ruin him and destroy him by asking him to take Artemis for himself before the deal is due in June. Ask him why he was so useless and had his little sister do everything for him, never once really fighting to take ownership of a company legally his. 

“Nothing,” The brush-off is sharp and distinct as she waves him off, turning to walk into the main hall. “Go get yourself more sponsors before June, will you? I’m not sure the same people would want to keep in touch with HERA & ARTEMIS after the separation and collaboration is made official.”

Juyeon returns home later that evening, still wearing the fourth outfit of the day. It was a blue suit with a black collar and details and all he wants to do is soak himself in his bath. Maybe he could go to sleep safe and sound, and he’d wake up single and free to do whatever he actually wants to do. 

He walks down the entrance corridor, sick of all the staged portraits of him and his family hung on the walls. The main hall comes into sight, past the stairs on his right, where the television was still broadcasting bits and pieces of his wedding earlier. In the million-dollar couch sat his father, eyes and ears attentive to the screen. 

“Was it so entertaining that you have to watch it again? I know you were there this afternoon.”

His father turns his head subtly. Juyeon pulls off his blazer and removes his watch, laying the heavy clothing over his forearm as he scans the broadcast.

“The Lee-Kim wedding saw nothing short of nothing but a perfect list of investors, sponsors, fellow colleagues and leaders of several enterprises...”

He turns to look at his father, obviously still somewhat hurt that he hadn’t been officially invited by his son - Mr Ro had sent out mandatory invites to family members.

“It was a gorgeous wedding.”

“Yeah, well...” Juyeon shrugs lifelessly, already turning around to head for the stairs. “I had no say in it. It was her wedding and I don’t care, so.”

“The Board is expecting you to go on a Honeymoon, you have that in place, right?”

Juyeon gives a dry chuckle, already on the first step of the stairs. “Yeah, we’re going to Guatemala.”

“Guatemala?” His father shifts his attention from the television and looks at Juyeon, halfway up the stairs. “You’re just finding a chance to go diving in Belize, aren’t you?”

His son doesn’t falter, only continuing taking each step towards the second level, in hopes that he wouldn’t have to listen to his father criticise the only thing Jang Won let him do. At least it was some kind of freedom. 

“Juyeon-”

“Mom better not be in my room.”

The second floor corridor greets him with even more portraits of his family, most of the pictures of him when he was younger. He halts right outside his door when he notices light seeping out from beneath. 

Sighing with exasperation, he lays his hand on the door handle, readying himself to listen to his mother ramble. But his attention drifts from the cream-painted mahogany to the low cabinet next to him, the blue shade of the stingray shining under the hallway lights.

There was a ceramic statue of a standing coral frame with the stingray within the arc, and on it engraved ‘Hawaii 2018′. He smiles, remembering only fond memories of seeing a huge stingray while diving. Sunwoo had been dragged out by him - one of those times when he fought with his parents and couldn’t stand being in the same house as them. He covered travel cost and hospitality fees, ensuring Sunwoo’s parents (whose family was also on the smaller arm of The Board’s administration) that he’d take care of them. 

Juyeon got an earful from his parents when he came back. Young Jin Seol had been the one to tell his parents his whereabouts, solely because he had arranged for her to make sure it seemed like he was still doing his job at the office. So, of course, when his parents walked into office and she was doing his work for him, they had threatened to fire her. 

But Juyeon knew he was indebted, and told his parents, “No Jin Seol, then you can forget about me taking over Apple-Korea.”

Sucking a deep breath, Juyeon shakes himself out of his mental trance, and pushes the door open. 

The back of his mother seems so fragile on first sight, and he’s well aware she’s getting on in her years. For a split second, he feels emotional, possibly feeling some tinge of remorse at how horrible of a son he’s been.

Then he remembers that she’s had an abundance of spa treatments, country-club lunches with her fellow rich moms after a game of gold or tennis, and a bunch of other things she definitely didn’t need. He wish he could tell himself otherwise, that she had been born into this life and thus living anything else dissimilar to this would be tiring on her.

But he can’t.

“I’m surprised you bothered to come home,” She says without looking at him. Juyeon rests his blazer on the back of the single sofa seat that’s angled to face the one she’s sitting in. “I was wondering if I should send some pajamas over to Hera’s Manor.”

Juyeon sits in the crystal encrusted sofa seat, crossing his legs and eyeing his mother fiddle with the wedding band on her finger. It reminds him of his own. 

“You realise you’re the one who bound me to the Kim family, don’t you? You’re the one who said okay to marrying Kim Jang Won, not me.”

“It was for your own good.”

“For mine or for our family?” Juyeon leans back in his seat and interlocks his fingers, placing them in his lap. “What else do you really need from the Lee family that you simply cannot take your eyes off? Their money? HERA & ARTEMIS? What?”

Only now does Juyeon notice the cup of tea on the small coffee table infront of them. 

“A child,” She says, like it was the most casual thought one could have, before taking a sip of tea. Her son shuts his eyes then opens them with his eyebrows as far up his forehead as he can. 

Providing a dry, tortured chuckle, Juyeon blinks multiple times, wishing that it was a condition with his hearing and not just something his mother had just spat out.

“A what?” Juyeon pulls apart his hands and leans forward, fists now clenched and pressed into the cushion he was sitting in.

“You heard me,” She places the tea cup down and refuses to look at him. “A child would mean inheritance. The Lee family will inherit the wealth of the Kims and it could possibly start a new system. It could rewrite The Board. We could become The Board.”

“What the-” He finally stands, barely choking out some kind of laughter filled with confusion and utter disbelief. “You want a child just to bond our families together and take over The fucking Board? My God, why are you so obsessed with The Board?”

“Because The Board is everything! No board, no us, no wealth and comfort like the kind we raised you in-”

“Does it look like I wanted it?!” Juyeon runs his hands through his hair, pulling his hair back and stretching his hairline. 

“You ingrate-”

“So I am an ingrate. But I had no choice, I have no life of my own because guess who’s making my decisions for me? You! If I don’t even have the ability to make my own choices then how do I even qualify as an ingrate?!”

She’s silent, and very much staring at the words spewing out of her son’s mouth now. She huffs through her flared nostrils, picking up the saucer and the tea cup and standing. “I don’t know what kind of ideas Kim Jang Won has planted in your head but you are still part of the Lee family and-”

“For Gods’ sake, Jang Won has nothing to do with any of this! In fact, she can’t care less about what I’m doing, so long as it doesn’t change the course of this entire situation. If anything, she’s playing it safe; she’s playing it against her father, and not us,” The veins on Juyeon’s hands are about to rip through his skin when he cannot close his fist any more. “Her father literally climbed out the grave... and you took this chance to capitalise on that in order to make our family richer the moment you heard of The Board’s announcement regarding HERA & ARTEMIS’s ownership complications...”

Juyeon shakes his head subtly, realising that he was panting from the sheer force of anger and disgust rushing through him. 

“And she’s younger than me. Lost her mother, lost her father, who only comes back to take what she built? You know, for a woman under The Board, I’d think you’d understand what she’s gone through. I thought... I thought you would’ve known how hard it is to be the successful one in the family but cannot pass down the family name... but everytime I think the world of you, and I think you’d act a little more like the woman I thought you are... you prove me wrong.”

Juyeon glares down at her, hands holding the teacup in the saucer with some kind of disapproving, disappointed look of fury in her eyes. Then he sighs heavily, hands rushing to pick up his blazer and storms out the room before she can.

“Leave Kim Jang Won alone, or else I’ll refuse Apple-Korea. By then, you can forget about all your stupid green bills and diamond rings.”

And with that, he slams the door shut. 

Juyeon appears along the second floor hallway, visible from the first floor’s living hall, where his father was still watching the news of his wedding earlier on in the day. Of course, the door slamming would’ve caught his attention, so when his son rushes down the stairs while putting his blazer back on, the elder man removes himself off the couch.

“Juyeon! Where are you going?!”

“Don’t call me, and don’t even think of calling Hera’s Manor,” He opens the heavy front door with such determination, then slams it harder than he intends to. By the foot of the stairs leading down to the pick up point by the entrance, his two bodyguards are taken aback and flustered when Juyeon appears again.

“Uh, can I get Mr Bong around-”

The instruction through the guard’s earpiece is cut short and interrupted abruptly as Juyeon unplugs the earpiece from the transmitter. 

“Mr Lee-” 

Juyeon doesn’t hesitate to do the same with the other guard. By now, his father has gotten the front door open and yelling at him with disapproving scolds. 

Rushing around the hood of the Porsche, Juyeon steps into the drivers’ seat - an unlikely sight, since he’s been chauffeured around most of the time.

“What in the world are you two doing? Stop him from leaving!” 

The vehicle revs to life, and Juyeon fumbles under the passenger seat’s compartment box and every crook and cranny in the front of the car.

“Juyeon!”

He winds up the window on the driver’s side and locks the entire vehicle just as his father reaches the window. He tugs on the handle angrily, almost able to shake the entire car with his aggression. 

“Juyeon, don’t you dare!”

Then, he finds it. A tracking device attached to all the cars his family owns.

Ripping it off the surface it was stuck into, he rolls down the window on the passenger’s side and hurls it out, straight into the arms of one of the bodyguards.

“Juyeon!”

He starts up the car and pulls it into drive, forcing his father to back off as he moves off.

[outrebanx]

don’t feel (2)

JJ Maybank x female reader

Masterlist

Part one // -- // Part three // Part four

Summary: A week after the last incident with your parents, you’re invited to a kegger with your friends, and unsurprisingly a fight breaks out (literally an awful chapter summary but my brain is mush so you’re gonna have to deal with it)

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: mentions of abuse, actual abuse, fighting, swearing, (highkey haven’t read through so definitely mistakes)

——- I am in no way romanticising abuse if you have any issues with my writing pls message me

A/N: thank you all for the great response to the first part 🥺 🥰 im not 100% sure how many parts there will be because that involves being organised but anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter :)) (also i promise the next chapter will actually have more JJ in it) and I originally wasn’t gonna spend much time writing before the keg but I got carried away so sorry

“Y/N!” You heard from behind you, turning around you’re met with the smiling face of Topper Thornton running up to you.

“Hey T,” you smiled at him, “You good?”

“Yep, um I was wondering are you free tonight?” He asked, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Depends on why you’re asking.”

“There’s a kegger at the boneyard tonight and we haven’t spent time together in ages, Kelce wants you to go as well.” He tries to widen his eyes in a pleading manner.

“We haven’t spent time together because you’re always with Rafe now, and you know how I feel about him Topper.”

You turn to walk away, but he catches your arm, “I know, but Rafe won’t be there tonight, it’ll just be like old times, please Y/N.”

You consider his offer for a moment, “He really won’t be there?”

“Nope I promise.”

“Fine. I always like a kegger and you better not break that promise T, or it’ll never be like old times again.”

“Yes ma’am.” He salutes you, you roll your eyes at him, trying to hide your smile.

“See you later then.” You give him a small wave and continue heading to your car.

You, Topper and Kelce grew up thick as thieves and they still held a special place in your heart, but ever since they started hanging out with Rafe you’d grown apart. At first you were always invited to hang with them when they were with Rafe, but it didn’t take long for him to start to creep you out - not only by how he looked at you, but also because when he got angry at something he reminded you of your parents, and you never wanted to hang around someone like that. In truth you did miss them, but your mental health was bad enough without another person like that in your life, so you made other friends, not that you liked them as much.

The drive back to your house was nice, the idea you were seeing your friends again made you feel more relaxed than you had in a while, that was until your house came into view, both your parents’ cars sitting on the drive.

It had been a week since the last incident, and life felt suspiciously normal, you knew it was too good to be true though, your parents always acted like they were sorry after hurting you or Grace, then they would still hurt you again. It was a cycle you hated, but not one you could escape easily.

Obviously you couldn’t ask them to go out tonight so once again you were going to risk sneaking out and hoping for the best.

You took a deep breath and got out of your car, heading towards the door, bracing for the possibility your parents might be in bad moods.

Opening the door, you were met with silence, maybe your mum was already passed out from drinking on the sofa or something, but you were sure as hell going to take advantage of it. You crept through the hallway towards the stairs, checking your dad wasn’t in the kitchen, a sense of relief coming through you when you saw he wasn’t, and made your way up to your room.

You fall onto your bed, sighing and looking at the marks on the ceiling. You must have been tired enough to fall asleep, as the next thing you knew there was a soft knock at your door, rousing you from the calm state you were in, “Y/N,” you heard Grace whisper as her head came around the door.

You lifted your head to smile at her, “Hi.”

When she didn’t answer you sat up properly, taking in her appearance, her eyes were red and puffy, her body slightly hunched over, and her lips quivered. Realisation as to what had happened dawned on you, your heart sinking, “Hey come here,” you opened your arms for her.

Without hesitating she moved into your embrace, your arms sliding around her slim frame, pulling her in even closer when you felt the tears on your shoulder.

You stayed like that, rubbing circles on her back with one of your hands until her tears began to subside, when this happened you pulled back slightly, trying to meet her eyes, “Where?” You asked.

She pointed to her ankles, where they were already swollen and bruising.

You stood up, going to the draw you kept supplies for situations like this and pulled out a cream for the swelling and some bandages to try and support the injury.

You began working on it, “What happened Grace?”

She breathed in, sniffling slightly, “I was getting a drink and Mum asked me to get her some wine,” you clenched your jaw, trying to keep your mouth shut until she finished, “and I went to but she had obviously drank a lot already, so even finishing the bottle there wasn’t much in the glass. And when I gave it to her she thought-“ she hiccuped as the tears began falling again, “she thought I was trying to control how much she drank and she pushed me to the floor, and um I think I twisted my ankle on my way down.”

You couldn’t help but seethe with anger, how dare they hurt her, every time it happened, especially when you weren’t in the house, you couldn’t help but hate your parents - they were awful people who you wished would die sometimes, however bad that thought was to have.

“I’m going to kill them.” You stood up quickly, ready to go downstairs and fight your mum, or dad, hell even both of them.

Grace grabbed your hand, “No you won’t.”

You looked at her, the pain in her eyes making you realise she needed you, “I’m sorry, I just hate them so much, especially when they hurt you when I’m not around.”

“Y/N, I know - this is how I feel when they hurt you.”

“Yeah but I’m the older sister, I’m meant to protect you.”

You sank down next to her on the bed, taking her hand, “I’m meant to protect you Grace.”

She leant into your shoulder, “I love you Y/N but you can’t always protect me.”

Closing your eyes you kiss her hair, “I can try, and I love you too.”

You lay on your bed together, using each other’s presence as a comfort until your phone go off, you grab it and see a message from Topper light up your screen:

T - I’m on my way to pick you up please be ready

“Shit I forgot about that”

Your sister sits up to look at you, “What?”

“I said I’d go to a kegger with Topper earlier, obviously I’m not now.”

“Um yes you are.”

“No I’m not, I’m going to stay with you.”

“No,” your sister gave you a hard look, “Our parents ruin so much of our lives at the moment, you’re going to go have fun, even if I have to push you out the window myself.”

You smile at how stubborn she is, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, now lets get you ready for Topper.” She says teasingly.

You roll your eyes at her comment, she knows full well you don’t see Topper as anything more than a friend, and she’s always loved to tease you about it.

You end up wearing a small black skirt and a crop top with some red lipstick, ready in time for the next text Topper sent you saying he was at the end of your drive.

“Okay,” you turn to face your sister, “are you sure you’re okay with me going?”

“Yes, now please go.”

“Fine,” you kiss her on her head, and give her a small wave as you climb out your window.

Once you’re in Topper’s car, Kelce jokingly wolf whistling at you, your only response to smile and stick your middle finger up at him.

“It’s been so long since you’ve drank with us I bet your tolerance is shit now Y/N.” Topper smiles from where he’s turned to look at you.

“In your dreams T, I know I could still drink you under the table.” You laugh, sticking out your tongue at him so he could see in the drivers mirror.

By the time you arrived at the boneyard, there were already lots of drunk teenagers stumbling around on the beach, clearly enjoying their night.

Topper clapped his hands together, “Right, let’s have some fun.”

The three of you made your way towards the keg, which tonight was manned by Kiara and JJ, you gave a quick smile to Kie when she handed you your drink, then you looked up at JJ. You had felt his eyes on you as you interacted with Kiara, but only looked at him then, you stared into his blue eyes for what seemed like ages, until Topper took your arm and guided you to where Kelce was sat by the fire.

“How did your exams go then guys?” You asked once you’d sat down.

“Really? We’re at a kegger and you’re asking about exams? You really need to get out more Y/N.” Kelce laughed, nudging your leg with his.

“Fine, what do you want to talk about?”

“Not that.” Topper smirks at you, tossing a coin into your cup.

“Fuck you.” You say before you down the bitter liquid, “Now I’ve got to get another one dipshit.”

As you stand you playfully shove him off the log he’s sat on, and head back towards the keg to get a drink.

This time Kie wasn’t there, only JJ, who you could tell was looking at you as you made your way towards him.

“Uh can I have a refill please?” You hand your red cup to him.

“Wow a kook with manners, that’s almost unheard of.” He smirks at you.

“Unlike the rest of the kooks, you haven’t done anything to make me hate you, yet - so I’ll be nice for now.” You give him a smile and go to reach for your cup, only for him to move it out of your reach, giving you a look you couldn’t decipher.

“What’s your name? I don’t see you around often.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, now can I have my drink?” You say, reaching towards it again.

Before he can say anything else, you hear Topper’s voice from behind you, “Y/N, is this dirty pogue bothering you?”

You can’t help but feel the dread in your stomach, whenever words like that are said there is almost always a fight, and you hate it.

You swivel to look at Topper, “No he’s not, I was just getting a drink,” you try to manoeuvre him away from JJ, not that it was easy, especially when JJ started speaking.

“You know, Topper,” he sneered his name, “she’s her own person you shouldn’t be such a controlling bastard towards her.”

You turned to glare at JJ, but he only grinned at you.

Topper let out something almost like a growl and tackled JJ to the floor.

“For fucks sake, Topper get off him!” You shouted, ready to try and get him off of JJ.

That was until, your head felt like it had been run over by a car, a splitting headache already forming, you looked down to where JJ was being repeatedly punched on the face by Topper, his nose bleeding, and his eyes already beginning to swell up.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. No way is he your soulmate - as far as you know you’ve got nothing in common? And everyone you know hates him, especially because of the fights he gets in. You can feel the stress and tears begin to build at the thought of a life with someone who seemed like he enjoyed fighting, you won’t survive that sort of relationship. Not with how your parents have treated you.

You tried recovering yourself, deep breaths in and out, blocking out the cheers for the fight around you, blocking out the pain in your face as JJ got punched again. And once you’d stopped shaking, you reached forward to try and get Topper off of JJ, for both your sakes apparently.

“Topper! Get the fuck off of him!” You shouted, but as you tried to wrap your arms around him to drag him off, he didn’t move, he was too invested in the fight, not even hearing you apparently - because of this he must have thought you were one of JJ’s friends trying to get him off, so without looking at you, Topper elbowed you in the gut, hard enough you staggered back in pain.

JJ seemed to register the pain you felt, his eyes wide as he looked at you, blood covering his face, but it gave him enough strength to push Topper off of him, and he made his way to you, worry somehow etched on his face even if he was much worse off than you.

Topper seemed to see where JJ was heading, and seeing you bent over, holding your stomach in pain made him realise that he’d hurt you, he pushed past JJ and knelt in front of you.

“Holy shit I’m so sorry Y/N.” His hands were on your cheeks, but you felt nothing, nothing except the tears that now escaped from your eyes.

You removed yourself from his touch, “Don’t fucking come near me Topper.”

You stood up, turning in the sand and began heading off the beach, only to feel Topper grip your arm, “Y/N I’m sorry, please don’t be mad.”

“I said not to touch me!” You shouted, ripping your arm away from him, when you noticed the stares you were getting from other people on the beach you lowered your voice, “It didn’t matter that Rafe didn’t come tonight in the end, because you’re just as bad as him now and I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”

He stared at you wordlessly, shock and hurt written on his face - not that you cared right now, he had hurt you, maybe by accident yes, but he knew about your home life and because he lost control, you wanted to hate him and never see him again.

He let you walk off that time, passing Kelce who looked like he wanted to talk to you but instead went over to Topper.

When you got to the road you realised you’d now have to walk home, so you quickly shook the sand out of your shoes then headed down the road in the direction of your house.

It was only a minute until you got interrupted again, “Hey Y/N,” JJ shouted from where he was running to catch up with you.

God you didn’t want to deal with this tonight but he’d probably just follow you home if you didn’t talk to him.

So you turned to face him, “What?”

“Are you okay?”

“Are you?” You raised your eyebrows at him, he’d been the one to get beaten up properly after all.

“I’ve had worse.” He shrugged, then rubbed the back of his neck, looking at you shyly “but um I felt your pain which means you must’ve felt mine and you know what that means.”

“Right now it means nothing JJ, I can’t deal with this tonight so please, leave me alone.”

He could obviously see how rough you felt, you were pretty sure you were still crying, and you were tired, so tired, and falling out with topper was one thing, but also realising your fucking soulmate was JJ Maybank was just something you couldn’t handle tonight.

He raised his hands, “Okay we’ll talk about this at some point, and I am so sorry Y/N, truly.” His eyes were shining slightly, but you could tell he was being genuine.

You nodded and turned around again to head home, leaving him at the side of the road.

You weren’t sure how long the walk home took, it seemed to pass in minutes with the number of thoughts that were racing through your head, it was as if you were on autopilot, climbing the trellis with ease, not even thinking where you were putting your hands and feet.

You were so out of it, you didn’t even realise your bedroom light was on, when you hadn’t turned it on before you left, so when you climbed into your room the last thing you expected to see was your mum and dad sitting on your bed with their arms crossed, expressions of pure anger on their faces.

(feel like this isnt my best but I am enjoying writing it also there might be fluff at some point but certainly not the next chapter whoops)

Part three

Tag list: @outerbongs​ @jjaybank @bailspogue @outerbankslut @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @alexa-playafricabytoto @teamnick @k-k0129 @do-not-talk-to-me-i-am-awkward @thoughtsofthestars @http-cherries @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @thesurfingsnail @lonely-kermit @oopsiedoopsie23 @overly-b​ @lus-shh @xlittlemissydjx @asaks6082 @copper-boom @danicarosaline @deathcompass @jellyfishbeansontoast @butterfliesinthenightsky @iamaunicorn4704 @my-soul-is-the-moon @diverrdown @thorsangel @saintkore @prejudic3 (please tell me if I’ve missed someone cos I’m dumb and it’s late)

[severetimetravelnerd]

Hatred and Love (ft. G Dragon) Mafia AU

Part 14

Jiyong realises something very important.

(I don’t own any of the images used. All credit goes to the original owners.)

Taglist:

@unabashedturkeytreeslime​

@happiestgirlontheeastcoast​

@kwonnansi​

@aarfyie​

@suhappysuho​

If there is anyone else who would like to be tagged, you can comment or leave me a message :))

I only write on this blog on tumblr, so if you see my work on any other platform, please let me know immediately.

Now, things are coming to a close. It has appearances from Daesung, Taeyang, TOP, Mino, Hanbin and EXO (mostly Kai). This continues with the EXO storyline, but again, I have nothing against EXO :)) I love them, but I had to use someone for the plot. This chapter has a lot of Suho. It also has a good amount of Xiumin:))

This is the last part of the series and I’m so sorry it took me so long to upload it :(((( I know it’s been ages, but after all of this, I just blanked out when it came to the ending. Thanks for supporting me and following the story :)) I’m going to miss this one :))

Warnings: Violence, Death(not main character), Injury, Blood, Eventual smut, Abduction, Guns and Knives, language. 

————————————————————————–

You had no idea what to expect. You turned to Jiyong, eyebrows raised, wondering what Joonmyeon could possibly want, but Jiyong looked just as stumped as you. He was also way angrier. His eyes immediately became cold and hard. 

“What does that fucker want now?” 

You gently took his hand, trying to calm him down. 

“Let’s go into this with an open mind? Maybe he wants to come up with some sort of agreement?” 

Jiyong tried to conceal his anger but that didn’t work very well. His jaw was absolutely taut when he spoke. 

“Y/N, he wants to fuck things up somehow. Why else would he want you there? You’re the one person I’m scared of disappointing.”

 You planted a light kiss on his cheek, instantly making him relax.

 “Then maybe that’s a good thing. You won’t do anything that would disappoint me.” 

He sighed, but he kissed you back.

 “You’re right, Y/N. You’re the only person I can stay calm for.”

The two of you walked into Jongin’s room, that had been turned into a makeshift conference room. Joonmyeon was there in a wheelchair. Yixing and Sehun were also there with their hands bound, both flanked by Hanbin and Mino, making sure neither of them try something funny. Jiyong took his place at the head of the table, prepared to let Joonmyeon start, but Joonmyeon looked up straight at you. Still looking at you, he said, 

“No Jiyong. That seat isn’t for you. That seat is for her. Your side of the table is over there.” 

Jiyong stretched his neck, unable to believe what Joonmyeon just told him. You were also in complete shock. Why would he want you at the head of the table? Before you could overthink it, Joonmyeon said, 

“I want Y/N to be the head and mediator of this meeting. She can guide us towards a merger.” 

His eyes were thrown at you, as though daring you to take up the challenge, daring you to mess up. Jiyong eyes turned dark with pure, unadulterated rage and he was about to step in when you met Joonmyeon’s gaze. This guy had messed with you one too many times. You had had enough.

 “Okay Joonmyeon. I will.” 

Every single head in the room whipped towards you, wondering what you were playing at. Jiyong, still in shock, quietly got up and went to his seat. You sat down, slowly crossing your legs. Your eyes were so determined, they were nearly piercing through Joonmyeon. No one there had ever seen you that way before. Not even when they first abducted you. Staring straight at him, you began. 

“Well, Joonmyeon, what did you want to discuss?”

 Your gaze was hostile, openly challenging him to try and mess with you. Joonmyeon hated it. He hated that he felt so guilty about harming you and Jongin. He hated that he owed you his life. He hated that he couldn’t completely hate you. This was just his way of trying to find reasons to hate you. But none of this struggle showed on the outside. Eyes cold and calculating, he said, 

“If we’re doing a merger, only I have control over my men.”

 Even before he finished the sentence, you could feel the anger and the protests from the rest of the room, including EXO, but you silenced them all with a glare. Joonmyeon just wanted to make things messy and you wouldn’t let him. Jiyong snarled when he heard that, but he calmed down when he looked at you there, his grip on his gun slowly loosening. Your voice was quiet but firm when you spoke. 

“Joonmyeon, I don’t think you understand your position. You asked for a merger. Not a partnership. With a merger, you become part of an organisation and work the same way the organisation had worked. So, no. You won’t be the only person to have control over your troops. You will be at the level assigned to you. And you will have to report to Jiyong.” 

Joonmyeon already knew all of that, but he just wanted to get a rise out of you. Nonchalantly stretching, he said,

 “Okay, but I’m second in command.”

 That was too much for Jiyong to bear and he scoffed. He threw his head back to laugh and then he slammed the table. His voice was dangerously detached when he did speak. 

“Joonmyeon, is this a joke to you?”

 You saw the glint in Joonmyeon’s eyes. He was happy he succeeded in getting a rise out of Jiyong. He felt that it somehow validated his behaviour and his deep-rooted hatred for them, although he knew they weren’t that bad. You had saved his life. Jiyong saved his men. He was just clutching at straws to justify his behaviour. You were determined to not give him those straws. You would make him realise that there wasn’t any justification for his behaviour. He would take accountability and realise where he went wrong, so that he could go back to being himself, instead of being obsessed with taking Jiyong down. Your hand quietly wrapped around Jiyong’s hand, silently urging him to not say anything. Jiyong eyes flashed, and he glared at you, annoyed that you were telling him to not react, but he kept quiet anyway. You tried to look at Joonmyeon, but he was refusing to look at you. He didn’t want to make eye contact. He could only put up the act as long as someone didn’t see through him. You tried to get him to peacefully meet your gaze, but when he absolutely refused to, you resorted to desperate measures. Standing up, you grabbed his chin and forced him to look straight at you. Your voice was still calm when you said,

 “Joonmyeon, you and I both know that’s not going to happen. You might not even get a commanding post for a while, because you, Yixing and Sehun have to prove your loyalties first. How are we supposed to trust you after everything that happened? You turned on Jongin. Why wouldn’t you do that again?” 

Joonmyeon could feel this crushing pain when you said that. He didn’t want to accept that he did that, but there was no other way to it. Joonmyeon lost all fight when you said that. You had seen through him. He quietly slipped out of your grasp and turned to Jongin, bowing deeply before saying, 

“Jongin, I’m sorry.” 

Jongin sat there, on his bed, in complete and utter shock. Joonmyeon hyung never apologised, especially not in front of other people. He was too in shock to say anything. Heart sinking even further, Joonmyeon turned to you, bowed and apologised. He then looked up and for the first time, his eyes were genuine. 

“Thank you for saving my life Y/N.”  

Everyone other than Minseok was in shock. Minseok had the slightest smile on his face. 

“Maybe we will get out Joonmyeon back after all.” 

Sehun and Yixing were both furious, and they were about to protest it, and Hanbin and Mino were ready to supress it, but you beat them to it. Voice cool, you said,

 “To prove their loyalty, Joonmyeon, Yixing and Sehun will work directly under Minseok and Youngbae for the next three months to start with. They’ll work on the Hongdae area.”

 Joonmyeon’s head shot up when he heard you. You were giving them control over Hongdae? The area that they’d been fighting for? Joonmyeon’s eyes teared up a little. He would finally get to take care of his sister’s grave. Joonmyeon immediately bowed before you. Yixing and Sehun were too shocked to do anything except stare at you in disbelief.

 “Thank you, Y/N. You don’t know how much this means to me.” 

You had the slightest smile on your face when you replied, 

“You’re welcome Joonmyeon.”

Jiyong sat there watching all the events unfold, feeling detached. He didn’t mind that you were making decisions for him. he knew the others wouldn’t mind either. He knew it was only because of you that they managed to resolve things with Joonmyeon. But he was more worried about the other things. The slight tremble in your hands from dealing with this. Your pale and tired face. Your tendency to flinch slightly when people make sudden movements. The near imperceptible tremor in your voice. You weren’t used to this, and it scared you. He felt awful. You didn’t deserve this. You had been through so much. You needed a break. And he would make sure you got one. For the first time in his life, Jiyong decided he would take a break with you. It wasn’t because he wanted to take a break, but more because you needed him around. As weird as it was, although Jiyong was the one drawing you into this world, your only way to feel better about everything was around him. And also, for the simple reason that he missed you, and couldn’t stand being away from you any longer. He was staring at you, making up his mind about exactly what to do when you turned to him.

 “Jiyong, that’s okay right?” 

He didn’t hear you. He had zoned you out, wondering how he got so lucky as to have you in his life. He would protect that at all costs. He would protect you at all costs. He would protect your happiness at all costs. You raised your eyebrows, wondering why he didn’t reply. You mentally scolded yourself for shooting your mouth off like that without talking to him first. You turned to Jiyong, much more nervous. 

“Jiyong? All okay, Love?” 

The vibe of the meeting had changed. Everything was much more relaxed. Sehun was trying hard not to cry, Yixing was apologising to everyone, Jongin was playfully guilt-tripping a very apologetic Joonmyeon about his injuries. But when you said that, everyone turned to Jiyong, a little nervous. He had a rather…intimidating reputation. Youngbae was the only one who was sure Jiyong would be okay with it. He was more interested in watching the drama between you and Jiyong unfold. Jiyong just stared at you, looking at him nervously. There was one thing that was different about you. No matter how nervous you were at that moment, there was no fear in your eyes. You looked at him trustingly, knowing fully well that no matter how dangerous a man he is, he would never hurt you. Ever. Jiyong didn’t bother answering your question. Jiyong just stood up, leaned over the table, grabbed your face and kissed you. A deep, hungry kiss. All his longing, all his fears, all his worries were in that. He deepened the kiss because as he felt your soft hands gently caress his bruised knuckles and kiss him back, he realised that there was something he needed to do. He needed to meet his grandmother.

You were very surprised when you were pulled up from your seat and kissed like there was no tomorrow, but you kissed him back equally longingly. You had missed him. You had never stopped worrying about him. You were right. You didn’t know whether there was going to be a tomorrow. You kissed him until you felt like you had the feel of his lips committed to memory. Cheers erupted all around you, although the two of you were quite oblivious to it. Hanbin rolled his eyes, laughing at the two of you while Jongin whistled. Hanbin leaned over and muttered to Jongin. 

“Thank god the two of them are back together. I didn’t think it was possible, but they’re more annoying on their own.”

 Jongin scoffed. 

“Hanbin, I can see that you’re tearing up.”

Jiyong pulled away first, both of you gasping for breath. You blushed at all the hooting boys around you, some newer than others, but all equally determined to embarrass you. Jiyong didn’t even bother to acknowledge the hooting. He just turned to Youngbae and whispered something in his ear, making you look at him quizzically. He turned to give you a quick, reassuring smile before speaking. 

“Okay. Now that the merger is done, I have an announcement. I’m going to be away for a month. Youngbae is second in command. Don’t try to reach me unless it’s absolutely urgent.” 

Your heart fell. He was going to be away for a month. After everything. When you had just gotten back together. You had missed him so much. But you tried your best to not let your face fall, sticking a weak smile on your face. If he was leaving, it had to be important. You would talk to him about it in private. Everyone nodded except Hanbin. Hanbin was pouting when he said,

 “Who’s after Youngbae hyung?” 

Jiyong froze for a second, staring at Hanbin before sighing and answering. 

“Seunghyun hyung.” 

“After him?”

 “Daesung.”

 “After him?” 

“Minseok.”

 Minseok looked surprised while Hanbin’s pout deepened.

 “Hanbin, are you really going to make me list this out in order?”

 “Yes.” 

Jiyong glared at him and answered. 

“Then it’s Mino. Then it’s Jongdae. Then it’s Baekhyun. Then Chanyeol. Then it’s you. Then it’s Jongin. Then it’s Kyungsoo. Then it’s Joonmyeon, Yixing and Sehun. In that order.”

 While the others laughed at Hanbin arguing with Jiyong, you struggled to keep that smile on your face. Jiyong playfully glared at the rest of the room before grabbing your hand and walking out of the room. Your heart sank even more. He was going to say bye. He was going to leave again. You were staring at the floor, letting yourself get lost in your thoughts when he tilted your head up and beamed at you, the smile leaving quickly when he saw that you weren’t smiling. 

“What’s wrong love?” 

You bit down on your trembling lips and looked away, not wanting to make him feel worse. He gently cupped your face and made you look at him. 

“Talk to me Y/N. Tell me what’s wrong.”

 You took a deep breath.

 “I’m just going to miss you Jiyong.”

 He looked terrified. 

“Why? Why’re you going to miss me? Are you leaving me?” 

You stared at him confused. 

“No. You’re going somewhere, remember?”

 Jiyong’s brows knitted together in confusion before he laughed and pulled you into a hug. 

“Sweetheart, if you think I’m going anywhere without you after not having seen you for the past month, you’re in for a surprise.”

 It took a while for it to hit you, but when you finally realised he wasn’t leaving, you hugged him tight, burying your face in his chest. You looked up at him, confused.

 “You mean I’m coming with you on work?” 

He leaned in and nibbled on your ear, pressing a light kiss against your neck before saying,

 “No. I mean we’re going on a holiday.”

 Two weeks later, you lay down on the plush bed in Jiyong’s hidden away holiday home, buried under the blankets and wearing his hoodie, so utterly happy with how everything just felt right. You closed your eyes and buried deeper into the bed, enjoying the warmth of it. You felt the bed dip as you heard Jiyong’s sleepy morning voice.

 “Good morning love. I got you your tea.”

 He sat and was about to sip his tea when you crawled into his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, snuggling into him. Amused, he asked,

 “Do you not plan on letting me drink my tea?” 

You took in a deep breath, letting Jiyong’s familiar scent wash over you.

 “Nope.’’

 “Do you plan on moving from here?”

 Pressing a light kiss against his smile, you said,

 “Nope.”

 You stared out of the balcony. It was 3 am on your last night there, and you were lost in thought while you stared at the stars. That one month was magical. You had Jiyong all to yourself, and both of you sat and worked through the problems in your relationship. You knew you loved him. You knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. You knew you weren’t scared of him. You couldn’t live without him. You didn’t realise how windy it was until he walked out behind you, wrapping a blanket around you. He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled into your neck. 

“Love, you have to be careful. You can’t stand out here in just my t shirt.” 

You turned around to face him, wrapping the blanket around the both of you. 

“Jiyong, you came out here in just your boxers. I don’t think you should be lecturing me.” 

He had this blissful smile as he kissed your forehead.

 “I couldn’t help it Y/N. I just needed to be out here with you.” 

You had the same blissful smile as you kissed him, letting yourself get lost in the kiss. He pulled away, suddenly looking nervous. 

“Y/N, I know we’re going back tomorrow, and I know I’ll get busy, but like we discussed, I promise I will always make time for you.” 

He paused to take a deep breath, desperately trying to calm down that rising feeling of nervousness in him. 

“I know you can do way better than me, and you deserve way better, but I promise I will always respect you, and I will do anything to make you happy. I’ve realised I can’t live without you, and I know this might be too sudden, and I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but you’re the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with and start a family with. So, Y/N L/N, will you do me the honour of marrying me?” 

You stared at him in shock for a minute, unable to comprehend what was going on before a single tear slipped down your face, and you burst into the largest smile you had in you. You nodded vigorously. 

“Yes, Kwon Jiyong, I would love to marry you.”

 Jiyong felt all the nervousness leave his body only to be replaced with an overwhelming, indescribable feeling of joy. There are no words for how he felt in that moment. And as he slipped on the beautiful ring his grandmother had given him to give you, he lifted you up and kissed you, knowing that everything finally felt right.

[fuckyeahharryhart]

PART 2 HARRY HART FAN FICTION Because they better give him a good story for the last Kingsman. In case they don’t, I wrote something myself.

PART 2

FAN FIC

KINGSMAN III: REDACTED

MULTI PART SERIES:(My version of Kingsman 3)

Harry Hart x Original Character

Warnings: Reference to violence

Word Count: 5,900

OVERVIEW: After the events of Kingsman, The Golden Circle, Harry, Eggsy and the rest of the survivors rebuild their agency to it’s former level of integrity. A new player arrives unexpectedly, carrying memories of the past that will change the future of Kingsman.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Harry and Eggsy try to discover who this new players is, how they were at the right place and the right time, and what they know about kingsman. A marksman of that caliber isn't someone to take lightly.

------

Bloody hell. Harry's hand was still stinging with heated pain from having his key fob, of all bloody things, shot out of hand. His knee was out of sorts from dropping, face down, to the pavement. Hearing gunshots ring out from, not one, but two different directions did not improve his mood or his state of mind.  Continuing to roll as he hit the ground, he switched to his side so he could draw his weapon. But first, he turned toward the direction of the original fire. That was the shooter who caught his interest. A marksman with the precision to shoot a key fob from that distance, within centimetres of his hand without (well without significant) injury was someone not to underestimate. He could make a shot like that. He had plenty of times at the Kingsman shooting range. But that was aiming at a non-moving target in a controlled environment, under the best of circumstances. The only other time he fired a shot that exacting was in Cambodia. While wrestling a certain Agent Whiskey for control of a firearm, he was able to free Eggsy from a lasso looped around his neck by shooting clean through the rope. He assumed landing that shot was 1/4 luck, 1/4 technique and 1/2 his sheer force of will.

Very few marksman possessed the natural talent, training and skill to land that shot. Even less in London proper and he was almost certain that all of those individuals even close to that level, were under Kingsman’s employ.

Under the cover of shadows and partially hidden by a gate column, he spotted the shooter. At the same time, the shooter spotted him and they made split second eye contact. Obviously, the shooter did not want to be witnessed judging from the displeased look that he had noted. But rather than ducking out of view, they kept their stance, provided cover fire until the area was cleared and the threat was gone. And then, without a moments hesitation, the person holstered their weapon and turned abruptly in the opposite direction and began to walk off with long, measured steps. He and Eggsy dusted themselves, gestured to the other, nodded and made off in opposite directions in the attempt to cut the person off at the path. As he smoothed down his suit and adjusted his cuffs, he was quite certain that he was never going to enjoy a peaceful evening again.

——

She didn’t waste valuable seconds checking her phone, grateful that she took the extra time to map her locations in her head. Quickly referring to her orientation, she saw three viable options. Directly in front of her was the Royal Academy. Though it was vast and beautiful and filled with courtyards and eaves, arches, doorways, ideal to drop a tail, it was also closed and quiet. There was no crowd to get lost in. A single person moving in that space would surely be noticed.

She weighed her two other options against each other. Both were about equal in distance. No more than a 10 min walk in either direction. To her right was Mayfair. Situated in the heart of the city, it was one of the most expensive and exclusive areas of London with swanky five-star hotels, shops, restaurants, bars and pubs. Bond Street was sure to be packed with people enjoying the nightlife. Perhaps in another lifetime she could enjoy an evening out in such a place. Not at the moment.

On the plus side, the streets were more random, intersecting at odd places, without the usual grid format. That gave her more exit options. They would less likely follow the same path. Downside, as much as she would enjoy an elegant evening out, she was not appropriately attired. Of course, there would be the usual strong of tourists and visitors that would be similarly inappropriately attired. Even though she would blend in with part of the crowd, she didn’t want to stand out in anyway. Plus, if she needed to tuck into a shop or a restaurant, she wanted to blend with the locals and not the tourists. And she wasn’t going to do that with her nondescript outfit.  Or, she would find herself in a situation where someone would ask to take her jacket. She would have to politely refuse because of her shoulder holster and her gun. They would insist. Then it would become an uncomfortable situation for everyone involved. Awkward and uncomfortable would be hard NOT to notice.

A ten minute walk to her left would drop her in ever trendy Soho. A little louder, a little more rowdy and relaxed, Soho was more happy hour than cocktail hour. The way there would have more traffic, both car and pedestrian, but it was also more direct and brightly lit. More importantly, she would be able to blend with the locals, not just the tourists. Maybe even slip into a pub or bar for the glass of wine she so desperately could use. There would be more viable places to manuever, evade, and find cover. More opportunity to lose a tail. And less likely for a messy confrontation.

Though she didn’t stick around long enough, she was fairly certain that the two men were following her.  She kept in mind that they were trained with the same skills and likely had the same natural talent and instincts as she did. Part of her plan was to move slightly against instinct, find the ideal move and then, proceed with something slightly different. But they had to be thinking the same thing.

Shit. The shooters might still be in the area. Depending on whether or not they had backup, if this was an isolated threat on a personal level or if was on an organisational level, she couldn’t be sure that the coast was clear in that direction. When in doubt, take precaution. There were too many unknowns, too many unanswered questions and her preference was to get away without further contact. Since she couldn’t do it clean, she wanted to avoid any additional messiness.

Typical, she thought, making her way through the last of the shoppers and the first of the evening revellers. At the moment she was making progress and feeling more in control of her circumstances, some prick with a gun comes in and has to spray bullets over all the blocks that she spent the last month building. With care and precision, she arranged and rearranged, stacking and re-stacking, until she had created a platform where she could make her move. All her variables were in place. She calculated the possible outcomes and was so close to having a plan. There was some satisfaction, knowing that she had put an equal damper on their scheme, but when success of their plan meant the death of two people, and her plans would only work if those two people were alive, It didn’t leave her much of a choice.

Evasion was as much about mindset as it was movement. She took a mental pause, reset her outlook. Plans only fail if you allowed them to fail.  Plans change and hers just did. Focus on clearing out first and then she could regroup and consider her options. If she let her frustrations distract her, she would end up missing details and she had not come this far to make bad decisions. Even in the smallest circumstances, she learned how to turn off emotions, cutting off thoughts and inconvenient emotions. Unfortunately, it was usually the thoughts about the situation she was in, that caused troubling emotions, such as her frustration at the turn of events. But if she walled off those thoughts for the time being, she would be more likely to operate with logic and clarity.

To her advantage, she had a head start, she knew the situation she was dealing with, two known variables on her tail, one unknown threat that could possibly be armed and still in the area. Likely, all three of them knew the area so there was no upper hand in that case. Two would be on foot, probably split to cover more area. It was to her disadvantage that there were two of them, but would be easier to confront them individually if it came to that.

She assumed that they also saw her as a threat. Regardless whether or not her actions had saved their lives, she was still an unknown, an armed and dangerous, one at that. She had to expect hostility, possibly aggression if confronted. It was a situation she would prefer to avoid.

Her steps were light and relaxed. She paced herself neither too fast, nor too slow. Rushing would call attention. She avoided looking around overtly, but she used her periphery to scan the people and places around her. On the plus side, two handsome men in Saville Row bespoke would definitely turn heads. Especially the tall one, who stood inches over the average person. They couldn’t take off their suit coats either. Not with their own weapons and shoulder holsters.

She took a quick left off the main road. A few blocks over and then she could make another turn toward Soho and break up the straight line she was currently traveling. Maybe stop in Central for a quick diversion. Stay on the move. Be aware of her surroundings. Those were her two priorities. Casually checking her 360 along the way by using any reflections she saw, footsteps, noises she heard, neck stretching every few steps to check blind spots. And for a little while, she did just fine.

That is, until she found herself caught in a standing rear choke hold. Fuck.

———

Wherever the hell this person had materialised from, Harry thought, these were not the customs of a novice agent. From weaponry, tactics and evasion, their actions were one hundred percent on point. They should be only a suggestion in the wind by now. The single reason he was able to catch them unaware was because of new Kingsman tech. Just developed, airborne nano GPS trackers. Designed to mark a large group of targets from a distance, they were tiny particles, almost invisible by the naked eye. Programmed to navigate toward the wavelengths of infrared radiation emitted by the human body, specifically at the signature of 12 micron.  Best for outdoor use, or in large open spaces, these capsules were broken and released into the air where the prevailing wind would transport the nano GPS transmitters and attach to the nearest known radiation signature. The tracking range could vary depending on the windspeed, air density and how many capsules were released. They were handy to track large crowd movement, not typically used to track a single person. But it was all he had on hand. Since the street was empty at the time, they had a good chance that some GPS attached. Using the process of elimination to rule out unintentional attachments, they could isolated the movement they were looking for. They were looking for someone who moved like a spy.

This person, whoever they were, made all of the decisions that he would have and then added some surprise evasion tactics that he wouldn’t have thought of. They surely would have gotten away if not for the trackers. It wasn’t absolutely necessary that they locate the person. But they were an unknown entity. He wasn’t sure if they were an adversary, an ally, or a neutral player. Neutral players were not known for being experts at tradecraft. That left adversary or ally. With the events of the past two years and the most recent destruction of Kingsman by the Golden Circle, unanswered questions usually returned on their own, carrying an unfavourable answer.  Granted, the person saved their lives, but they already knew too much of Kingsman. Knew of threats of which Kingsman was not aware. So when chance invited him to make a move, to quietly sneak behind the person at the last second, he took it.

——

This is not why I spent four weeks planning, she fumed silently. Her mood was grim. Of course it would be at this exact moment that she registered the slightest contact from behind, like a passing breeze brushing against her. But she knew displaced air when she felt it.  Based on her position, facing forward, added to the position he was in, directly behind her, also facing forward, that would have to equal a rear standing choke hold. Instantly, she countered, dropping her chin to her chest like it belonged there, denying him the chance to press his forearm against the front of her neck. A chokehold had two purposes, either to crush the windpipe, resulting in death. Not the outcome she was looking for. Or, to cut off blood to the brain via the carotid artery, leaving her unconscious. Which wasn’t much of a consolation prize. Either way, she had just about 12 seconds to act. Since both options were less than desirable, she shielded her throat as best she could and waited for the window were she could counter like a small, but fierce animal.

The strength of his grip said that he wasn’t going for either option, but told her he using the hold as a restraint. So, she had that going for her, she thought darkly. Yet, he still had the capacity to follow through on either option. There was no give to his grip. Twisting out of the hold was not an option without more leeway. Not one to be held in a vulnerable position, her goal was to escape. Several ways presented themselves, few of which incorporated an unrestrained elbow or kick to the groin. Her aim was not to incapacitate, regardless of how satisfying that may be, but to extricate herself.

Based on sheer size and strength, she was highly disadvantaged. But, as a woman in the field, only relying on your strength, you’d get beaten every time. Women didn’t have to fight harder. They had to fight smarter. Not only did she have to use her size and weight to her advantage, she had to use his size and strength against him. With the obvious discrepancy in height, not that she was short. Five foot nine made her taller than average, but at 6’ 2”, he was also taller than average. Her best option? Leverage. Literally.  Use him as lever. It was the move where he would be at a disadvantage and she would have the clear advantage. There was some consolation to be found, knowing they were also expert spies, but not enough to spare herself the embarrassment of being caught. Summoning her nerve, one deep inhalation, she thought, and she would be ready.

He smells nice.

The thought landed without warning. It didn’t merely land. It hit her. It hit her hard and with feeling. Her concentration stuttered. It was the scent of wood, leather, spices and a hint of something warm, rich and slightly sweet, like a velvety dark chocolate. And then there was a breath of something unexpected. A note she couldn’t identify. It was him, she realised. That was his smell. It was a good smell. A masculine smell. She was suddenly aware of his wool suit against her chin. She noticed the pinstripes against a navy as dark as the sky. The crisp white of his French shirt cuffs and the gold of his cufflinks that held them in place.

Her senses were wide open. They always were on hyperdrive when she was out in the field. That was expected. She relied on them to send her signs that she didn’t have the time to look for. But now, they were receiving all the wrong signals and sending all the wrong messages. Intensely. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the shadow of his hand. His large, wide palm was warm on the back of her neck.  By pressing her neck forward and down, it was this hand that locked the chokehold in place.

What the hell? she thought. She felt the strength of his forearms underneath her own palms. Her hands were gripping him so tightly she could feel the cords of muscle through his sleeve. Suddenly, her body became all too aware of his own. The sensation of him, the entire length of his body against hers, awakened her own. He wasn’t just standing behind her, he was bearing the whole of his body into hers. Thus, she was counter balancing with equal force. Generating heat and pressure between them.  Realising how close, how intimate, how physical, literally, their contact was at that moment, overwhelmed her reason, her logic, her objectivity. And most of all, she was aware of the man behind her. Not as a target, or a mark, or a tail or a problem to be solved. It was him. It was Harry Hart.

He must have sensed a slight shift in her energy because once that random, startling thought struck home, she didn’t dare move until she knew where it was heading and what she was going to do with it. She probably stopped breathing. Maybe that’s what he noticed because all of a sudden she felt dizzy and lightheaded. Maybe he was holding her a little tighter than she thought. He must have noticed a change because just as suddenly, his grip loosed by a fraction, not enough to escape, but enough to jar her back to the present. He was confusing her and she was angry at being confused.

She was on pause and someone had just hit the reset button. Instantly, she made her next move and she went into action fully committed. There was no hesitation in a move like this. To her advantage, their height difference meant that he had to lean down slightly to get his forearm around her neck, which shifted his center of gravity slightly forward. With his tight grip, she pushed against it, creating the energy of opposing forces to gain momentum. With her neck guarded by her chin, she quickly dropped down to one knee, gripped tightly onto his wrists and forearms, leaned back into him to get the tiniest bit of additional momentum, and then bent forward as sharply as she could from her waist, throwing the full force of her weight into the move and tucking in as tight as possible. Sure enough, with his weight already off center, using her body as a fulcrum, a pivot point, and using his height as a lever, she forced him to tumble over her head.

Normally, after a move such as this, that put her at a tactically advantageous position, she would either evade or go in for an attack move and neutralise the threat. This was not the way she wanted to introduce herself to these two men, but it looked like fate wasn’t giving her any options. She was not prepared for this situation. She didn’t have claim over the next move.  It could be either of theirs. Brushing her hair away from her eyes, she cursed herself for not having a hair tie, of all things. She paused for a moment. Her cap got knocked off during her manoeuvre. Wonderful, all these identifiers, now facial features, and the damn hair. She should handover her passport and smartphone and just get it over with. How did this evening turn so sideways?

She took a mental pause. Footsteps. His colleague. Who didn’t know what he was walking into. She quite certain it did not look like afternoon tea.

When she heard the brushing noise of a weapon being pulled out of its holster she went back on high alert. They had most definitely past the “direct contact” portion of the evening. As much as she did not want to do them harm, she was more than willing to talk, she equally, did not want to be on the interrogation end of a gun. She had another split second to decide her course of action. Two was much more complicated.

All three of them knew the rules of weaponry in the field and in engagement. Never pull a gun in a circumstance you’re not willing to use it. Never aim at a target you’re not willing to shoot. It wouldn’t have been her first choice, but when she had a lethal weapon aimed in her direction, it left her with few options.

She never had an opportunity to use it before, but it was ideal for this circumstance and what she had planned. She palmed her carbonfiber graphene tactical knife, short, less than 5��in length, from its discreet sleeve at her hip.  It’s description stated, “A device for specific close quarters combat manoeuvres in very focused special circumstance scenarios with high impact.” This circumstance would fall under that category, she thought.

The upper hand was all she needed to gain, to have a moment where they would be forced to listen to her. Grace, eloquence… She tossed those out the proverbial window. Her words would have the hardest strike. The most impact. Not her knife, not her gun, not any weapon. Now was not the time for finesse.  Once again, she had to turn shitty odds in her favours before the man she just flipped could reorient himself.  She wanted to be sorry that it had come to this, but she was just making her counter move. It didn’t matter if it was personal or not. This part, at least for her, was the business aspect of her work. Similar to negotiating a deal, but using weapons and lives as bargaining points.

The knife firmly in her grip, she raised the blade and held its lethal edge against his carotid artery with enough pressure to be VERY uncomfortable, and almost, but not break skin. He was smart and followed the direction guided by pressure of her blade hand and rose with her to a standing position. She stood behind him, angled slightly toward one side. He knew that any counter move on his part, which there were many he could take, and in this case his strength and mass would be at his advantage. She was in a very vulnerable physical position and he could take her down easily. If it weren’t for the knife at the side of his neck. The blade was very small, very light and most of all, it was very, very sharp and designed for close, personal combat.  Easy to handle, low pressure point. Which meant, whether or not his move disabled her he would, no doubt, be pulling away with nothing less than a very serious neck wound.

“Stop.” she called out firmly. “Gun down on the ground.”

The man who was under her knife, indicated, Do what she says.

He placed his gun on the ground and stood with his hands in the air.

She knew he was weighing his options, just as she did her own.

Her voice was clear and just loud enough so he could hear her where he stood.

Seriously, like this was what she needed. Did they really have to go through all this fuss?  Spies could be exhausting.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

She kept her voice conversational. Of no consequence or concern and certainly not threatening.

“Do you have enough time to disarm me and get help for your friend, Harry, before he bleeds out?”

She felt the slightest flinch when he heard the sound of his name. Not Arthur or Galahad. His given name.

“You’re quite fast, Eggsy, but not that fast.”

Now Eggsy’s turn as his eyes narrowed both suspicious and surprised. Not Galahad. Not even Gary, but Eggsy.

Ok, making progress, she thought. She had just shown her first card. She knew exactly who they were. Not just their code names. Their real ones.

To drive her point home.  “Just the tiniest amount of pressure on his carotid artery, thats all I need. 68 seconds until he loses consciousness. My knife, which you probably can’t see from where you are standing, but he can certainly feel,” she nodded her head toward Harry, “is designed to pierce fast and deep. If I had a regular blade, he might come out clean, but not with this one. Please, sincerely, think twice, for his sake, about making any sudden movements.”

Good. Neither of them made an attempt to move. Not even a twinge. She continued. She didn’t know how long the odds would be in her favour. At this point, she was playing fast and loose. Something she rarely did and she was not used to. One of her biggest strengths was her ability to prepare. This was not a scenario that she had imagined.

“I know either of you could disable me, but not without me doing a fair amount of damage first.”

It wouldn’t be her first choice to do harm, but she was in no mood for additional fuckery and she wanted to make it abundantly clear that, though she was no match for them in terms of brute strength, she had plenty of ways to dominate a fight using strategy. She wasn’t stronger, but she could be smarter. She wasn’t above shedding blood to prove that she was not to be underestimated.

“I didn’t start this fight, but I’m more than happy to finish it.”

She added, “You see how well trained I am. You should be asking yourself why i haven’t killed him, or either of you, already.”

Did they really have to be so obstinate? Obstreperous. Truculent?  They should have been asking themselves that question after she took the first shot. They could very easily be dead right now if it were not for her.  She needed to prove to them she was not a threat to their lives. Against all of her training, she laid her second card down.

 “And ask yourself,” she repeated. “perhaps why, then, I would let him go.”

Very carefully, very slowly, and very deliberately, she softened the pressure against his neck until the blade was no longer making contact. She continued to draw it far away from him, far enough to clear so not to do any damage, before she began to lower it. She took a few steps back, hands up, the knife still visible in her right, but with a carry hold, not an active grip.

Imagine her surprise when Harry turned on her, twisted her wrist until she had to drop the knife. Not without force. She resisted the split second she saw what was happening. She knew in this case, she didn’t have an immediate out, but that didn’t mean she had to make it easy for him. Rather than conserving her energy, she fought him and fought him with force, until she saw his face grimace with the effort.

Good, she thought.

She made some pretty satisfying contact before he was able to push her all the way back against the red brick warehouse. The wall gave her less room to maneuver. She landed one last, very satisfying kick to his shin. It wasn’t a fancy move. There was no technique involved. She just put all her grit behind that single kick and the connection she made was very gratifying, despite her situation. She hoped it left huge bruise to remember her by. It was obviously painful and hurt him enough that he shoved her away fairly hard. The back of her head knocked into the bricks with a force that she wouldn’t have considered gentlemanly.

Well, she did have a knife to his carotid just a few moments ago, she countered. She supposed turn about was fair play. This time, he was able to get his forearm across her throat and braced his right wrist with the circle of his left hand. Standing arm bar hold. She had no counter this time, seeing since Eggsy had his gun again and it being much harder to escape a bullet than a choke hold. So, that move did not have the impact that she thought it would.

She knew they had to have this conversation, but she was pissed. At them, but she admitted, begrudgingly, that she was mostly pissed at herself for letting her guard down. To be fair, they really had no idea who she was. And until they did, she would remain a threat. But she still had one more card. She was just waiting for the chance to use it.

——

What the bloody fuck had just happened? Harry Hart was not one to get caught off guard. But he was miffed that it happened this evening. Not only once, but three bloody times, and he had just quite enough of whatever fuckery was happening around him. First, the key fob, then the chokehold, then the bloody knife. Well, my dear, he thought, two can play this game. He wasn’t above fighting dirty. Sometimes the situation insisted on it. It seemed as if this was one of those times.

As soon as she let down her guard sufficiently enough for him to act, he twisted her arm, forcing her to drop the knife. But she wasn’t making things easier for him, or for herself, for that matter. Even though he clearly had the upper hand, she fought him the entire time. She, too, apparently wasn’t above a little dirty dealing when she landed a kick to his shin. A very hard, directed kick, not meant to disable, not in an attempt to escape, a kick just purely meant to cause him pain. A bit more than cheeky. He finally pushed her, maybe just a tad harder than he anticipated, until her head knocked back and hit the warehouse wall behind her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eggsy had taken the opportunity to retrieve his gun and provide cover. Her eyes quickly darted in the same direction, confirmed the same thing that he saw and then stared at him furiously. Whether the fury was directed toward him or to her change in circumstance, most likely both, he could not be certain.

Making sure his arm bar would prevent any further roughhousing, Harry spoke, adopting almost the same conversational tone as she had. She wasn’t sure if he was matching her tone to respect her or mock her. This time she felt free to show as much aggression as she felt like. There was no consequence at this point. She tossed her damn hair out of her face.

——

As she flipped her hair to the side, Harry, by instinct, began to document her features so, if needed, he could provide a detailed description of her should it ever become necessary. Tall, 5’ 8 1/2 - 9. Slim build, but athletic, lean muscular rather than simply thin. Age was hard to determine, she looked both very young, but her eyes, they were both wise and melancholy. A look that only came with time and experience. Her eyes seemed to say that they had already seen too much. She was anywhere from mid twenties to mid thirties. He noticed that her eyes were grey. Grey, and they had a slight almond shape to them. Tilted just enough to give her an air of mystery. Dark lashes, dark hair and much of it. Long. Wavy. It was shiny and looked very soft. Dusky fair skin with just an undertone of warm olive. Cheeks pink, with displeasure, he thought, or embarrassment, certainly not because she was flattered by the attention. Her mouth was small and delicate, her lips pressed together in a firm line. Also pink. She was quite becoming. Beautiful even. He tried to determine her ethnicity, but found himself unable to place her exotic, yet subtle, delicate features.

Harry caught himself.  He wasn’t just documenting her features. It wasn’t bloody like him.These were not the most appropriate thoughts for the moment.

She noticed him noticing her. She didn’t know what he was noticing, so she grew even more frustrated. She obviously didn’t care about keeping her expressions to herself any longer. It was quite loud and clear what she was thinking. It was written all over her face.

He came back to his words. In his calm, deep voice, he asked her three simple questions.

“Who are you? Who do you work for, and why did you shoot at us?”

A firm set to her jaw and with equal composure, she answered his questions without hesitation, but in her own order.

“I” she emphasised, “didn’t shoot at you.” she added under her breath, “I was aiming for your key fob.”

“I work for no one.” She halted, her eyes pulling their full attention to hers.

She laid down her last card.

“My name is Gwendolyn Mycroft.” she took a meaningful pause. “My father saved your lives.”

Glancing between the two of them, she saw that, as she intended, she had hit home. She added.

‘So, I suggest you release me, and let us go to a place where we can discuss this in a more civilised manner.”

She saw that both of the men were in a state of shock. She could understand. The evening hadn’t gone the way she expected either. She waited for a response that was something other than a blank stare.

“Do you like scotch?” Eggsy asked.

Well, that was a good of a start as any.

-----

If you made it this far, Thanks for reading!! Comments, questions, likes are always appreciated. Always feel free to reblog.

[pebblysand]

[writing rant - on the monetisation of fanfiction]

a couple of months ago, when i updated my long fic, one of the people on the comments wrote to me the nicest possible review (one of the ones that you keep in your feel-good 'saved' emails - you know the ones), which, amongst other things also said: 'If I could pay you for this...believe me, I would.'

in the moment, i kind of smiled and laughed, and thanked the person for their kind words before moving on with my life. yet, since then, i have to admit that this sentence has kind of been living rent-free in my head. i think it is also because since diving back into fandom a few months ago, i've noticed something that kind of shocked me at first: more and more fanfiction writers seem to be monetising (or attempting to monetise) their craft.

now, back when i started writing fanfic, we wrote fanfic on ffnet and livejournal. it was accepted that thou shalt never (ever) charge money for your writing or else the author and their mean, angry lawyers will come after you for damages and you will die a slow and painful death. we wrote disclaimers at the start of all of our posts and thanked the gods every day when we did not get sued.

i have seen this change gradually over the years. first, in the mid 2010s, the disclaimers went. then, i noticed that people were getting 'tipped' for fanart, sometimes even charging commission. from what i understand (though, don't quote me on this, i'm not an ip lawyer and this post is not intended as legal advice), this is because the way the concept of fair use is framed under us law makes it easier to monetise fanart than it does fanfiction. maybe this is why visual artists came first on this trend. later still (and more recently) i've noticed fanfic writers, doing the same thing.

to be fully honest, the first thought i had when i saw this trend, considering the fear of god (and his lawyers) that was instilled in me in the past, was: how on earth is this even possible? (i'll come back to that in a bit). the second, though, was: fuck, i wish i had the guts to do that, lol.

because, yeah, i will admit, the idea of getting paid for writing what i love to write does appeal, to a certain extent. i won't lie. dear fanfiction writers who've tried to do that recently: i one hundred per cent get it.

looking back at the last fifteen years, i would say that for me, writing fanfiction has been (in terms of time commitment and energy consumed) the equivalent of having an on-and-off part time job. a job that i have held for one or two years at a time, then quit for a while, before coming back to it when i needed (wanted) it again. i obviously can't realistically give you a number re:the actual total of hours i have spent at this since i started out, but i can give you an idea. recently, i started clocking my hours out of interest and calculated that a chapter of my current long fic takes roughly between one hundred to two hundred hours to produce (and they're around 10,000 words). at that rate, i'm probably working 20 hours a week-ish? sometimes more, sometimes less? something as small as a three-sentence fic (like this for instance), takes roughly two/three hours. i'll be honest, i have cancelled plans to write fic. when i'm working on a long project, i do tend to organise my life to give myself the time to write, so i opt for socialising after work during the week rather than on weekends, as i've found this is when i write best. i won't lie: it is - for me (i know some people write quicker, bless them) - a huge time suck.

so, yeah, i understand, in the capitalist society we live in, wanting to make that time count. our world has unfortunately, repeatedly taught us that time is money and getting more does seem like a nice bonus (as long as you have an audience for your art that's willing to pay, obviously). after all, year after year, i've seen a lot of my friends try and monetise their passions as side hustles, with varying success. at first, glance, i look at the time i spend on writing fanfiction and think: man, i wish i could get a bit back from that too. i couldn't even draw a stick figure to save my life but i assume that the time commitment and energy put into that kind of work is roughly similar for visual fanartists as well. i thus very much understand the sentiment, both with fanart and fanfiction.

additionally, though i appreciate this is a bit tangential, the fact that fanfiction is free, i would argue, hinders its potential to be as representative as it could be. it's a bit sad because on the one hand, the fact that it is free makes it completely accessible to the masses but on the other, it makes fanfiction quite exclusive to rich, privileged people who can afford to spend the time and energy putting content out for free. if i spend this much time writing fanfiction, just because i like it and it makes me happy, it's because my full time job pays me enough to cover my bills. if it didn't, i probably would have to forgo writing and get a proper side gig. if you look at my periods of inactivity on ao3, those also kind of coincide with the times in my life when i had to have more things going on to put food on the table.

so, now, assuming that monetisation is a thing that, as a fic writer, one might want to look at, the next question is: how do you go about monetising it? obviously, the law hasn't changed since the days where we were all terrified of getting sued (although enforcement has been quite lax over the years) so it's more about finding workarounds around the law as it is, rather than actively seeking payment for fanart.

from what i've seen: two main solutions seem to exist.

first, there's the tipping/buy-me-coffee technique. as i understand it, this involves either setting up a page on one of the dedicated websites or just putting up your paypal account link on your tumblr posts. with these links, people can then send you however much money they want (however much money they can afford/think you deserve?) on a one-off basis. they're not actually paying for fanfic because there is no actual exchange of services, it's basically like them giving money to charity, except that charity is a fanfic writer/ fan artist whose work they enjoy.

there are two main issues i see with this: one, legally, i'm not sure how much ground this actually holds. assuming you're quite prolific/successful, if every time you're producing new content, you receive dozens of tips, although you're not actively charging for your fanart, making the argument that your content isn't what these people are actively paying for seems hard. imo, the fact that this method sort of holds is that realistically, you're going to make very little out of this. even if you're really good, you might make what? a couple hundred dollars. now, sure, that's a lot of money for a lot of people but in the grand scheme of things, no one sues anyone for such a low amount. as long as you're not making 'proper' money from it, it is highly unlikely that anyone would come after you.

this being said, the second issue, from my perspective, is that this is not in any way, shape or form, a reliable income. it also does not represent, at all, the cost of the time and investment actually put into said fanfiction (or fanart, i assume). for example: if you're going to tip someone who's worked on something for, say, fifty hours, ten dollars, that's very good of you, but that isn't going to be 'worth' their time. it is only worth their time if tipping is done at as scale, which imo is quite unlikely considering you're putting your content out for free anyway. there are kind souls who will tip you, but not that many, meaning that ultimately, you're not working for free anymore, but you're still working at a huge loss.

additionally, because this income is not even reliable on a monthly/weekly basis, it isn't something that anyone can actually rely on, even if only to fund their coffee habit. it's nice to have, don't get me wrong, but from my perspective, is the legal risk outlined above worth the trouble for the $20/30 tips i'd get every once in a while - not really. such low amounts also don't help diminish the class issue that i talked about earlier. again, if you're going to spend fifty hours on something, you might as well work a minimum wage job - even that will pay you more and will be dependable.

second, there's patreon (and patreon-like sites). here, the income is monthly, people pledge on a subscription basis, which does solve the last point above. it might not be much, but at least it's regular.

the main issue i see with patreon is that it is contingent on the author providing more services on top of what they already provide. in most cases, the author will keep putting their usual content out for free + provide their patreons (depending on tiers) with more content, specifically for them. this, to me, makes this scheme even less appealing than the previous one because a) if i can't provide fanfic to potential patreons (again, you can't sell fanfic), i'm not sure what on earth i could give them (original content? that's not really the same market) and b) that's even more work on my plate. honestly, considering the amount of time i already spend writing fanfic, i have neither the energy nor the willpower to provide extra content for an amount that, regardless, will probably pay me less than a part-time job would. again, you'd have to scale this (i.e. have enough patreons) to make it all worth your while, and even in very big fandoms, even for someone waaaaay more successful than me, i doubt it would be likely.

lastly, as a side note, both of these "methods" are solely accepted if they occur on tumblr/writer's own website, rather than on the writer's ao3 page/fic. there was a post going around explaining why that is (nutshell: it endangers ao3's status as a non-profit archive) but as with all things, i seem to have lost it. [if you do have the link to that post/know what i'm talking about, hit me up and i'll rectify this]. this, regardless, supposes driving traffic from wherever you post your fics towards tumblr/your own website which, again, decreases your chances of scaling this.

so, in the end, where does that leave us?

i think, at this point, we've kind of reached a crossroad. ultimately, i see two ways to look at this:

option one: if you believe that fanfiction writers should be paid for their art, you also probably agree that the methods outlined above, while they do offer some sort of solution, are less than ideal. the ideal solution (for this option) would obviously be to allow fanfiction authors to be properly paid for the publication of their work through 'normal' publishing/self-publishing deals, without the need for a licence from the author (bar - perhaps - the payment of royalties). that would create a proper 'market' for fanfiction, treating it as any other form of writing/art form. it would mean a complete overhaul of the laws currently in place, but why not? ultimately, in a democracy, laws are meant to be changeable.

this being said, though, while my personal knee jerk reaction would be to shout 'hurray!' at this solution, i do not actually think i want this. or, maybe, only part of me does. the part of me who has been writing fanfiction for free for fifteen years is like 'hey, yay, maybe i could get paid!'. but then, there is another part of me that would like, maybe, one day, to write more original fiction (i already do a bit, but not much). that part of me is feels frankly a bit icky about giving up her ip rights.

would i be comfortable with people writing fanfiction of my original work? hell yes. that would be the dream. imagine having your own ao3 fandom, omg. however, would i be comfortable with people profiting from writing fanfiction of my work? honestly, i'm not sure. to me, the answer to that is: it depends (how much time investment was put in? how original the concept is? etc.) which, in fact, kind of brings us back to the current concept of licensing. and yes, maybe the current frame imposed by copyright law has also shaped the way i view the concept of property, and maybe i should be more of a communist, free-for-all kind of person, but unfortunately, i'm not that revolutionary.

also, and slightly tangentially, i find it interesting how profiting from fanficition/fanart is seen as more acceptable i certain fandoms rather than in others. taking the hp fandom for instance, even prior to jkr expressing her views on transgender rights, i often read things like: 'ah, she's so rich anyway, she doesn't need the money.' now, that argument has not only gained traction but is also reinforced by: 'ah, she's the devil and i don't want to fund her. it'd rather give my money to fanfic authors/buy things on etsy.'

while i completely understand the sentiment and do not, in any way, shape or form, support jkr's views, i do find that argument quite problematic. if you set the precedent that because someone is too rich, or because they've expressed views you disagree with, you don't believe that they should be entitled to their own intellectual property rights, i do wonder: where does this stop? this being justified for jkr could lead to all sorts of small artists seeing other people stealing/profiting from their original work without authorisation. 'i don't pay you 'cause i disagree with you,' would then act as a justification, with i find highly unfair. the fact of the matter is: jkr created hp. knowing that, the choice of buying hp products, regardless of her opinions is completely and entirely yours, but buying the same stuff unlicensed, from people who are infringing on her copyrights seems, to me, very problematic as this could potentially be scaled to all artists. either we overhaul the entire copyright system or we don't, but making special cases is dangerous, in my humble opinion.

option two: we choose to preserve copyright law as it is, for the reasons outlined above. this means that most people will not get paid for the content they put out and that the few that do will operate on a very tight, legal rope, and work for tips that are a 'nice bonus' but not a proper pay. this sort of perpetuates the idea that fanfiction is 'less than' other art forms, because in our capitalist society, things that don't generate money (things often made by women, may i add) are not seen as being as valuable as things that do.

for me, personally, while getting paid to write fanfiction sounds lovely (and makes my bank account purr) in theory, i think i side to preserve the current system. as an artist, i think that intellectual property protects us and our concepts from being ripped off by others, including by big companies who might find it handy to steal a design, a quote, anything, without proper remuneration. this is even more important for smaller artists who wouldn't necessarily have the means to defend their craft otherwise.

this being said, i do appreciate that it depends on why you're writing fanfiction. i think that topic probably deserves a whole different post in its own right but ultimately, most people write fanfic because it's fun. we know it's for fun, and not for profit. and if that's the case, then we're okay to receive compliments, reblogs and sometimes, for some people a little bit of an awkward tip for our work. for me, fanfic has been a space to make friends, to get feedback, to learn and to experiment without the pressure of money being involved. that's why i don't particularly mind doing it for free, and wouldn't even bother setting up a patreon or tip-me jar. i love being able to do it just for the enjoyment of myself and my five followers (lol), without worrying about scaling it, or making it profitable. not every part of our lives, not every passion has to be profitable. as we say in ireland, you do it 'for the craic' and nothing else.

this, though, as i already said, also depends on your means and level of privilege. to me, writing for free is fantastic and a bloody relief - it means being able to do exactly what i want. original fiction writing is full of rules, and editors, and publishers. in fanfic, i can write whatever i feel like, and i'm willing to forgo a salary in exchange of that freedom. again, i have a full time job that covers my bills. this does mean, though, that i don't have as much time to dedicate to writing as i would like to.

and also, the thing is: i'm a small author. i happily write in my own little niche. bar that one comment, it is highly unlikely that anyone would actually want to pay me (or even tip me) for my content. but when you look at very successful people, like the author of all the young dudes, i could see how they'd want to get paid for their art, and why they'd feel differently.

bottom line for me is: the flaws of the current systems of remuneration combined with my strong belief in copyright law as a means to protect small, original creators, means that i don't really think it would be right for me to get paid for fanfic, even if i was the kind of person who had the market for it. whilst it would be nice, this very long rant has, hopefully, explained why.

[geckolady]

Skulduggery Pleasant: Raising Cain - Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - Clues and progress

They got to the car they borrowed and had to call a taxi to help get them all back to Gordon’s. They decided to rest for a little while before heading out and Crow went upstairs to remove the body which would be collected by the Sanctuary Cleavers and then cleaned up what he could, Wolf helping him.

Panda sat carefully at the kitchen table, looking at her nervously try to think up something to eat. She could make little bits, her and Gordon had been learning things slowly as a way of spending time together and also so Gordon wouldn’t forget to make food as often, Stephanie would remind him to spend time with her. It made her chest ache for him for a moment. She still loved him, but he had set up everything so she could move on quickly and she intended to make him proud.

She found some rice, tinned tomatoes, passata, cheese and mozzarella after a while and after digging out the recipe from the messed-up folder they had created together. Panda helped her work out how much food they needed for six, then decided after a moment to add on another two portions considering they were all so big and they were all so hungry.

It took a while to make and she had had to replace some passata with tin tomatoes, which were meant to be fresh anyway, and there defiantly wasn’t enough mozzarella, but with cheese on top and the fact it was alright tasting and there was more than enough for everyone, she was the star of the night and everyone doted on her. She’d always thought cooking for people was boring, but they made it fun, and Panda had done all the onion chopping so it wasn’t too horrible.

When they had all finished the meal – Stephanie had forced Crow to sit with them – they all went their various ways to relax. They had made sure to have two on night duty as well as Crow at all times but Stephanie was not involved though she didn’t complain with that, as the others would also be doing washing, drying and putting away since she cooked.

She washed for a long time in the shower, finding a lot of bruise and feeling a lot more aches than she realised she had. There was a particularly big yellowing bruise on her butt cheek she had no idea about but it didn’t hurt and too soon she was out the shower and in her massive, fluffy towel. She took the old nail varnish off her toes and couldn’t be bothered to repaint them after filing so she finished up, including her teeth and putting away the things she’d used in the draws, although they had no real home so it wasn’t exactly organised.

She didn’t care though so she took her clothes back to her room with her towel around her. She was sort of embarrassed to get waved at by Weasel who was going into his room someway down the hall as she was used to sleeping on a whole different floor to Gordon and had even walked, quiet freely, from the bathroom to her room naked without fear of being spotted in the past. She wouldn’t be able to do that anymore, which was disappointing in a weird way. Walking around naked was fun.

She shook the strange thoughts from her mind and went to her room with her massive super king bed and beautiful sheets and all her pillows and throws in various colours and materials, some gifts from her friends, others artfully picked by Gordon. The four-poster had semi-transparent white curtains she always had the tied up. When she was younger they had been the best thing in the room.

She had a desk and fairly new computer though the monitor was the same one from years ago, possibly from before she was born, a desk that went across the span of the room held up with massive screws and brackets rather than legs, giving the allusion of a lot of space. She had a vanity and massive walk in wardrobe with custom shelves, hanging space and shoe space that had never been full but she still loved for the fact it was over the top and made her feel important.

She changed into new pyjamas and got under the covers. She slept soundly.

She had a vague dream of Gordon that night, nothing of importance, no particular event, but she dreamt of Gordon, her and her boys. That’s what she called them in her dream and as soon as she awoke, she remembered that and not much of the dream itself. She decided that was what they were. She was their girl and they were her boys, her bothers. Sure, it wasn’t a perfect name for them, but it was the feel more so than the name itself.

She didn’t bother changing from her shorts and massive t-shirt Gordon had handed down to her some years ago, just grabbed her Panda toy to show Panda and slowly rubbed her eyes and went downstairs.

They were all in the kitchen, Bear, Panda and Weasel mumbling over tea, Crow reading a newspaper and the others far too excited for the morning and making up a big meal for them all. Stephanie sat on Bears lap and he moved back to give her room and was in a good enough mood to even wrap one arm back around her so it rested on her opposite hip, basically hugging her. Such a big, bad man, so feared across the land, and here he was, grumpy, drinking black tea and cuddling her.

“Cub!” Wolf said when he turned around. He was wearing an apron that said ‘I’ve been a naught cook’ on it and started laughing. “What do you want for breakfast?”

She stifled her laughs. “Whatever’s going I guess.”

“A full Irish, coming up.”

“Well, not a full one,” Crow pointed out over his paper.

“No,” Snake agreed. “But it’s pretty close.”

Stephanie listened to them argue over breakfast and noticed she was the last down and only one that hadn’t gotten dressed. Looking at the clock, she noticed it was ten o’clock and they must have been waiting for her.

She was given her food not long after and when they had all eaten and she’d helped putting things in the correct place when it was washed, she ran and got herself ready for the day. Back in her protective clothes, she came back to the kitchen to reconvene and found them inspecting her Panda bear.

“Hey!” She said, making them jump. “Don’t touch my Pandy!”

Wolf put it in the middle of the table. “I just wanted to see Ghastly’s namesake is all.”

“Yeah, just curious,” Snake said.

“Which is totally allowed,” Weasel pointed out. “So don’t get mad.”

“Yeah, but this is special. It was made for me and it’s special and you can’t hurt it,” she told them. “Anyway, I wanted to show Panda.”

“He saw it earlier,” Crow said, coming in from the living room. “He said it brought back memories of the wild animals his father made for him as a child. I think he wishes he made you more now.”

“He made me tones of stuff. I have almost everything you ever got me upstairs. Even the nonsense stuff you gave me.”

“They weren’t nonsense,” Crow muttered and left the room. “We’re leaving in five so get ready.”

Stephanie put her old toy, which was quite beaten up but still cute, at the end of the table and they got into the Bentley and the van and made their way down to the coast.

They stopped near her aunt and uncles place and Stephanie looked out the window at the nice little house. It was deceiving, how quaint it looked considering how bad the people within it had been to her on occasion. She was hardly Harry Potter but she deserved a little better from them, at least.

“Can’t we just steal it? I want to break in,” she told them.

“Stop whining. You get to steal it now, just walk over, go in, steal it and leave. Done,” Crow told her.

“It’s not the same and you know it,” she said, but got out the car, accepting that she was about to embarrass herself greatly in front of everyone.

She knocked on the door and waited until Fergus opened it. “Oh,” he said.

“Yeah. I was wondering how you were?” She asked. It sounded more like she was questioning the question. She certainly was.

“Uh, we’re fine. How are you?”

“Grand, grand. Um, could I use your bathroom?” She blurted out, wanting to get it over with.

He looked at her suspiciously. “Why? What are you up to?”

She frowned meanly at him. “Nothing. I went for a walk at the coast, needed to pee and came here. Is that so bad?”

He made a grunt noise but let her in and she bolted up the stairs to the bathroom. She closed the door and then listened carefully, hearing him call Beryl’s name and her shout back from the kitchen. She crept from the bathroom to her Aunt and Uncles room and searched the jewellery box. She found it quickly, flushed the loo and ran down the stairs.

“Thank you!” She called and closed the door on her way out.

She walked at a normal speed until she was sure Beryl couldn’t spy on her and then ran to the car and got in.

“That was not fun. I hope you understand that.”

“I don’t,” Crow said. “Now let’s go.”

They travelled back to the mansion and found it thankfully clear of intruders. The basement only took a moment to search with all seven of them and they used the key to get in, Stephanie getting to do the honours. It smelt dank and wet and felt frigidly cold.

They couldn’t all go in as there were monsters within would sense their magic, so Stephanie, Crow and Wolf would enter and the others would stay behind to guard and keep them hidden since they didn’t know if Serpine knew of the caves yet and if it gave them a few moments to get the Sceptre’s alliance to them first, it would be the edge they needed.

It felt slow at first, being in the cavernous maze and just slowly wandering around, finding boring plants and fungus everywhere. She had been instructed not to touch any as it was as dangerous as the sentient things down there. Maybe more so.

Stephanie pulled out the little torch she had stashed away in her jacket and they used it to pass a little stream type thing, and to avoid a massive tendril that was moving silently and might have been a snake though she honestly couldn’t tell. They couldn’t use magic, so her torch was invaluable. When they heard noises up ahead she clicked it off and they pressed into the shadows, Wolf’s hand on her shoulder.

The monster passed them with slow, powerful sweeps of its paws – a single claw was bigger than her foot. They waited for it to go around the corner and Wolf let her go and they began running through the dark halls with the torch to help them. Eventually they stumbled across a Snickers wrapper.

“Gordon,” Stephanie said, almost welling with emotion but holding it back resolutely.

“A clue,” Crow said. “We’re on the right track.”

They carefully followed the cave system further down into the dark and they were relying solely on Stephanie’s light for guidance. They reached a large space at the end with three other corridors and an overhang above them. In the centre of the room was the Sceptre.

Crow carefully checked the air with his magic and then nodded to them. They had already decided that Crow should be the one to touch the Sceptre first since he had the most control and would be the hardest for Serpine to kill. He strode forwards and the thing started to sing. He picked it up. It… did nothing.

How anticlimactic.

“Boring,” Wolf said, stretching. “Time to go.”

They left the caves at a jog and Stephanie was incredibly surprised to find everyone above perfectly fine and healthy. They hadn’t even spotted cars around the walls. Bear said it was too quiet, but they were grateful nonetheless and sat around the living room to think of their next move, the Sceptre sitting innocently, and loudly, on the coffee table.

“It needs to be destroyed,” Bear said. “It has no place existing, especially now Serpine is after it.”

“It’s a valuable weapon though. It could be an asset in stopping Serpine,” Weasel suggested though didn’t seem too happy with it.

“I think we should destroy it as soon as Serpine is dead,” Crow said. “It is an asset, and if we could get it assessed first, prove its existence, we can kill Serpine without consequences.”

Wolf shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of destroying it, but it’s too dangerous.”

Panda nodded. “Dexter’s right. I know you want to be certain we can kill him Skul, we all do, but this isn’t the way.”

Stephanie put her hand on Crow’s gently. “It’s way too dangerous. We might not get another chance to destroy it and if someone else gets it, it’d be awful.”

He was quiet as he thought about it. “I suppose you are right. The risk is too great. But that means we need to know how to destroy it.”

Panda stood up. “I think it’s time I paid a visit to the family Vault. Who else wants to go?”

In the end, Panda, Stephanie and Crow decided to go to his family Vault while Bear went to the Sanctuary to try and convince the Elders of the Serpine’s actions. The others would stay where they were to guard the house and Sceptre. It was a fairly long drive to The Vault and on the way Panda and Crow explained a few things.

“The Vault is not a place that is gone in lightly or often,” Panda told her. “My family have collected things over centuries and I have only been in their twice myself. My mother didn’t even go in there as it was from my father’s side and they were always too protective over it.”

“Why are you bringing me and Crow then?”

“You’re family,” he said. “And that one won’t let me not take him.”

She laughed. “What stuff did they collect?”

He shrugged. “Mostly paintings, but they were very interested in the Ancients, which we told you about already, so hopefully they will have something in there that can tell us about destroying it.”

They got to the art gallery in good time and caught the guards before they were leaving, allowing Panda to show his documentation, though it was unnecessary since it was impossible not to recognise him, and they waited for them to open the massive metal door, and it was shut after them, so they could browse.

It wasn’t as big as Stephanie had assumed it would be, but it was still packed with things, all valuable looking. There was art everywhere, some of what she assumed was the most valuable on the walls, and cases of clothes, jewels, piles of books and a massive oval table and chairs in the centre though upon the surface was more things she couldn’t identify.

“Where do we start?” Stephanie asked.

“I’ll start over here,” Panda said, walking to one of the corners.

“You look at the paintings,” Crow told her. “If you find anything relating to the Ancients that might be useful, tell us.”

She nodded and got started on the nearest rack of paintings. They were very expensive and she did her best to handle them with care, the way Gordon had taught her when they had gone through his collection one time. Panda found some maps in his corner they thought could have been places the Sceptre might have been found at one time, though they had no way of checking since they had the Sceptre. They did put them carefully on a chair for photographs though, just in case there was more information about the Sceptre in those places. It must have been almost twenty minutes later that Stephanie found a picture of it.

“I found something,” she said. “But it’s just someone using the Sceptre, not anything about destroying.”

“Tell me about it,” Crow said, his voice muffled as he was bent straight over into a chest.

“It’s a man, and he’s reaching for the Sceptre. It’s sort of hovering just out of reach, and it’s glowing.”

“Is there anything strange about him?” Panda asked, looking through scrolls.

“Yeah… he’s shielding his eyes but they’re both wide open. He looks kind of crazed actually.”

“What does that mean?” Crow asked her, pulling himself from the chest.

“Well, you’d expect him to be squinting, you know? There’s so much detail, there’s no reason the painter wouldn’t make him squint.”

“Anything else strike you as odd?”

She looked it over again. “The shadows.”

“What about them?”

“There’s two. And the Sceptre isn’t making them, the angles are wrong. Maybe the sun?” She suggested as he came over to look too.

“Yes, but what time of day would it be?”

“The shadow at his feet would make it noon, making the sun overhead, but the shadow behind him would make it morning or evening.”

“Which one?”

“How am I meant to know?” She frowned at him, seeing he wasn’t looking at the painting at all, actually playing with a little box. “Maybe morning.”

“So, you are looking at a man who is reaching for the Sceptre in the past and present, seeing everything at once.”

“I suppose so. What does that have to do with the box you’re messing with?”

“Who painted it?” Crow asked. “Ghastly, get over here.”

“There’s a crest. Leopard and crossed swords,” she said.

He lifted the box and showed them the same crest. “Whoever, family or individual, made that painting, also made this Puzzle Box. People like to put things in Puzzle Boxes that might help us in our quest for information. It’s another clue, Stephanie.”

He played with it a little more and then rested it flat on his palm. It clicked and there was a high pitch motorising sound before the top opened and they saw a little blue stone inside.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [4]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: greetings everyone!! how are we all doing? i have nothing to say here tbh so anyway stan sam wilson being a lil shit whenever possible. 

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Alright, thank you.”

You hung up the call, trudging back to the house, discarding the battery along the way.

The air had a chill to it and there was an occasional breeze that went past, rustling leaves providing an eerily comforting background score. The temperature tended to rise as the day went on but nights were especially cold due to the abundance of trees. 

Even though the stress of the situation you were in constantly consumed all your waking thoughts, you still found the time to appreciate how beautiful your surroundings were. 

The last few days were barely memorable. Sam and you tended to stay out of each other's way unless your meal time coincided or you watched the local news together. The schedule had worked out favourably.

He wasn’t very hard to live with.

Most of the time.

His commentary and small jokes were never-ending but were not as unwelcome as you initially thought. It brought some much needed light into your otherwise dreary day. When it came to figuring out how to do laundry due to your now extended stay or whose turn it was to do it, things got a bit messy but were resolved quickly.

He used to disappear often for hours on end. You never concerned yourself with going after him to find out where he went, figuring that unless he was hatching a plot that led to your demise, he was entitled to his own privacy. He’d return a while later, calmer than when he left.

It was fine. Nothing to write home about. Neither of you were dead yet.

“What are you doing on the bed?” You were reconsidering your last thought when you walked into the bedroom to resume your self-interrupted sleep, only to find him face down on the sheets. “It’s my day today.”

“Just give me some time. I’ll be out of here soon enough.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into the sheets.

“You can take all the time you need tomorrow when it’s your turn.” You swatted at his legs, earning a grunt of chagrin from him.

“Go eat some soup and maybe you’ll calm down,” he fired back, unmoving.

“Today’s not soup day. Which you would know if you paid attention to our schedule. That we made. Together. The same schedule which says it’s my turn today.”

He groaned, shoving his face deeper into the pillow. “My back’s killing me. Just give me a few.”

“Why, what’d you do?” you asked curiously, letting go of his leg.

“Combat training. Took a few beatings, fucked up my spine.”

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“It comes and goes.” Sam finally rolled onto his back, giving you a view of his face. His bone structure was amazing, even from quite possibly the ugliest angle you could have over him. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

You just stared at him as he linked his arms behind his neck, elevating his head to look at you. He had a small stubble that was starting to grow longer. You wondered if he would shave it. He looked good regardless.

“How’s your beloved?”

“Huh?”

“The person you keep sneaking around to talk to on the phone. I’m not your dad, y’know. You can talk to them inside the house, ‘m not gonna ground you,” he quipped, a small, teasing smile on his face.

“He’s not my lover. Just... an acquaintance.” You felt the awkwardness starting to set in after you trailed off. “Anyway since you’re awake, we need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?”

“What happened that day. We’ve been avoiding it but we need to figure out what went wrong. Or at least a clue.”

“Okay,” Sam agreed, wincing as he sat up straight. “How do you want to do it?”

“Just talk me through how you got put on this mission and what exactly happened that day, I guess.” You took a place on the bed, leaning backward on your hand for support.

He nodded, delaying for a second to collect his thoughts before beginning.

“So basically-”

The sun was particularly relentless that day.  

The ringing bell above the door of his favourite coffee shop was a welcoming sound. The barista smiled at him in greeting, asking if he wanted his usual to go.

His park bench was empty as it always was. Sam liked to think of it as a small gift from the universe; the fact that it was perpetually unoccupied.

He liked to sit there and watch people’s day go by. His iced coffee-

“I don’t really require that much detail.”

“Patience. I’m getting there.”

It was arguably one of the most peaceful days he had had in awhile, and he was hoping to keep the streak going. Nothing seemed like it would phase him, not even the phone ringing, drawing his attention away from the scene in front of him. Caller ID didn’t trace who it was.

“Hello?”

“Wilson.”

Sam gripped the cup so hard he thought it might spill over onto his jeans.

“I told you not to call me, Ransone.”

“But honey we had such a good time last night,” he faux cooed, “You know I have needs-”

“I’m not getting involved in your stupid organisation, Vincent. I told you I’m done,” Sam broke in, not wanting to waste time listening to his stupid dramatics.

“Listen here, Wilson.” The swift change in his tone was looming, threatening. “You’re done when I say you’re done-”

“Wanna bet?” Sam took a sip of his coffee. “I thought we made it clear in Detroit that we’re done. Honey.”

He added the last part out of pure spite just to get a rise out of him. Much to his glee it seemed to work as Ransone let out a deep exhale before continuing.

“That was before we found out there’s a mole in my gang. I want you to kill him.”

“This is way below my pay grade. Have one of your interns do it. Your shitty murder warehouse hasn’t seen much action in a while.”

“This is Pierce we’re talking about. If he’s working for another organisation, his ass is going to be so guarded, these kids couldn’t wouldn’t even get past the gate. Besides, you know my murder warehouse is for special guests only-”

“Man, it must suck real hard to be you right now,” Sam didn’t wait for him to complete his sentence. He finished the last bit of the drink he had left, gathering his things before standing up. “Find someone else. I’m out.”

“You might want to reconsider that. We found him.”

He stopped in his tracks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said steadily, grip on the phone tightening.

“I think you do, though. Had us fooled for a while there, thinking he’s dead. A little more research, some cash into the right pockets and boom! There he is, clear as day.”

Sam felt a chill go up his spine.

“He doesn’t know we know. We’re just keeping an eye on him for now.”

“If you even fucking think of touching him-” his fists were balled up, struggling to keep his anger from rising.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.” Ransone laughed. “I’ll just have one of my interns do it.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Ransone. It’s not somethi-”

“Do this hit and I’ll leave him alone,” Ransone interjected. “You’ve worked so hard to pull him from our radar, Sammy. It would be a shame if it all went to waste.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. Suddenly the day didn’t seem as bright as it was a few minutes ago.

“I’ll text you the details. You tend to leave me on read so I thought I’d make it more fun. Do you want the confetti with the message or the lasers-”

Sam just hung up the call, feet firmly rooted in his spot. He had no idea what he was going to do.

The notification of a new text alerted him. Pierce’s address along with the exact timeline of when he’d be home.

It was across the country. If he botched the mission on purpose, Ransone wouldn't be able to find him for a few days at least, much less reach him. He could go on the run-

‘Do it or he dies.’

His train of thought was interrupted by a picture that made his blood boil.

Especially when it exploded with the stupid confetti effect.

“Okay, basically he threatened you with something to go do the hit.” You didn’t ask him what exactly he was threatening him with and Sam didn’t really elaborate.

“Yeah. Didn’t leave me with much of a choice. He’s batshit fuckin’ crazy anyway, I knew he’d do whatever he felt like.”

“So you ended up going.”

Pierce didn’t seem to get many visitors. Not that anyone could be blamed, this guy was one of the biggest pieces of shit Sam had had the misfortune of meeting.

Over the two days he had staked out in front of the mansion to find out if this guy had as much security as Ransone had boasted of, Sam had come to the conclusive truth that no, he very much did not. He had a standard home security system which was lacklustre compared to the rest of the house.

Maybe he just assumed that being a senior member of the mob would garner some fear to his name. Dumbass.

He found the tall shrubbery surrounding the property to be out of the line of sight of the camera, and climbing it wasn't very hard. He landed softly on the manicured lawn, adjusting his gloves and checking his surroundings before pulling his gun that was secured in the waistband of his pants.

He removed the safety, keeping it close to him as he stalked through the front yard.

The red car parked at the side earned an eye roll from him. If he had one, there was no doubt there’d be more. He just had to find a basement or garage.

Walking around the house, he kept close to the wall, searching for any opening to the basement.

It didn’t take long before he found a set of stairs to the exterior entrance of the basement. He checked to see if anyone was around before making his way down them. The lock was unsurprisingly easy to pick.

The basement was mostly dark save for a few strategic lights placed to highlight the magnificence of his several race cars. The man was moved slower than the second coming of Jesus. The cars just seemed like an overcompensation.

The switchboard was not difficult to find. He pulled open the cover, glancing at the switches before turning all of them off, plunging the whole basement into darkness. If his security system was as outdated as Pierce was, it would have turned off along with the rest of the house.

“Oh, that’s why the cameras weren't working when I showed up.” Bits that seemed amiss were beginning to place itself together the more his story progressed. “I assume you entered the house through the window on the side?”

“Sure did.”

Your guess was right. He’s the reason why it was ajar by the time you arrived.

As soon as he entered he had his gun raised. Scanning the room as he went past, his senses were dialed up to eleven. If he was really under the protection of Serpentine, they were doing a terrible job. He had gotten in completely unscathed.

As he made his way deeper into the house, the sound of some movie playing became louder. But he had cut off the power supply to the house.

His eyebrows pulled together tightly into a frown, he made his way down the hall towards the sound. No one was in the dining or living room he canvassed.

Finally, Pierce’s silhouette became clearer. He appeared to just be sitting there idly while a smaller screen played in front of him. It wasn’t a TV, just an iPad.

If Pierce was asleep it would just make the job easier. Gun raised, Sam made his way into the room silently.

Pierce was still. Sam raised the gun, taking a step closer.

A floorboard creaked.

He immediately cringed, shoulders tensed as he came to an immediate stop. It seemed like forever as he waited for Pierce to wake up, to brandish a gun and try and defend himself.

He didn’t.

Taking a step to the side, Sam moved diagonally. Each one was slow. Ready for any sudden movements from his end.

He finally stopped in front of Pierce.

A bullet hole in his forehead. Eyes open. Chest still.

He was dead.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Sam breathed out, lowering his gun. Pierce’s glassy eyes stared blankly ahead. He didn’t look like had been dead for too long.

A soft thud in another room made his head snap up. It was in the same direction from where he came.

He silently moved backwards to the corner of the room, hoping that the darkness was enough of a disguise as he saw someone stalking down the hallway.

“And that’s when you come in. Thought you were comin’ back to make sure he was dead.”

“I had just got there. Saw that everything was off, and just assumed it was a power outage.”

“What about you? How’d you end up there?” Sam had his legs crossed, leaning forward to listen to you.

“Ransone told me that there was a spy who was sending information out for nearly two years. Needed him gone and he wasn’t sure if his other agent would show up-” you mentioned to him- “I guess that’s you. Told me I had an opening at 8pm. When I got there, the CCTV was off. Found the window open so I just used that.”

You were replaying your memory, step by step to remember what exactly you had seen. 

“Heard the movie playing, found no one when I went down the hall. I saw the car keys on the island, which came in handy later. Entered the room, pushed his head with the gun and he just slumped over like a damn rag doll. That’s when you made your grand entrance.”

“Got one chance to make an impression. Had to make sure I looked cool, emergin’ from the shadows and whatnot.”

“It doesn’t make sense though.”

“Ouch. Thought it was pretty legit, actu-”

“No, no-” you waved him off. “Not your entrance. The henchmen thing.”

He paused, mulling over what you said. “If he was working for Serpentine, he would have been more careful. Why did they show up after he’s dead?”

“I don’t think they work for Serpentine. If Pierce was giving them information, they wouldn’t kill him.” You had good reason to be confident about that. You thought you did, from previous assessments.

“Unless they were scared that he’d switch again,” Sam suggested. You looked up from your fidgeting fingers to him. “Didn’t want any of their secrets going back to Ransone. They got to him before we did.”

“Why’d they shoot at us then? If they killed him and left, why’d they wait for us to show up? Why did they try to kill us?”

“I think we’re ignoring the important thing here,” he paused. You looked at him expectantly, prodding him on. “How did they know we were coming? They should have killed him and disappeared but they expected us.”

You tilted your head. “Are you saying-”

“There might be more.”

“Pierce might not have been the only one,” you finished. “There are more spies.”

“Tipped ‘em off. Told them we were going to be there.”

“And killing us was just to poke Ransone with a stick,” you murmured, eyes downcast, fidgeting with your fingers again. “But that just seems random. It doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this makes sense, sweetheart.” Sam scoffed, leaning back again.

“We’re missing something. There’s something wrong.” You looked at him. “If it’s just a random attack, why did they release our face to the whole fuckin’ country? Why are they specifically targeting us?”

“Finishing what they started. Covering all their tracks from that day. If we’re not dead, we’re a liability.”

“What if it’s not Serpentine at all? What if it’s another gang?”

“Serpentine has the most motive.”

“We don’t know that.”

He looked at you incredulously. “I think there’s substantial evidence to suggest they fuckin’ hate us. Besides, they’d want me dead specifically.”

“Why?” you inquired, eyes narrowing.

He opened his mouth like he was going to explain but closed it a second later, leaving you guessing.

“Fine, but it doesn’t mean they’re the only ones who do.” You made a point to ask him later or at least conduct your own research into it. 

“Okay,” he said, shifting to lean on his elbows, “who else could it be? If Pierce was working for Serpentine and Ransone found out, sends someone to kill him, it’s essentially an attack on one of their own members. I’d say that's a pretty good motive.”

“I don’t know. Hydra doesn’t like us either. There’s Ten Rings too. But Serpentine just doesn’t work out.”

“How are you sure?” he asked. “You a spy for them too?”

You rolled your eyes at him as he raised his eyebrow. “It doesn’t make sense. What if we’re missing something? Did we go through everything?”

“I just went through my entire story down to the most irrelevant details. Twice. Nothing’s missing on my end.” He pushed himself off the bed, taking a long stretch before looking back at you.

“I think we should do it again. Just to make sure.” You rotated your torso to look at him. “We can figure it out-”

“You’re going to lose your mind if you keep at this any longer for today. Take a break.”

“I can’t take this lightly. Everyone’s out there looking for us and there is no one we can trust-”

“And going through our stories for the third time today is going to solve that how?” He had his hands crossed over his chest like a stern parent.

“I’m sorry but our faces are probably plastered in every damn police precinct in the country,” you snapped, “And I think that us remembering something some stupid detail might actually help rather than, I don’t know, taking naps and eating sandwiches. So no, I’m not going to drop it. Because I actually want to get out of here.”

You didn’t mean to sound so angry with him. He had told you everything twice already and patiently answered questions that you had. You didn’t think he was lying. You had no way of knowing but you hoped that some sort of allegiance was being formed between you both.

There was silence for a minute, leaving enough time for the guilt to creep in when he didn’t fire back. It’s what you expected.

“I’m not asking you to drop it. I’m saying take a break,” he said calmly. “You’re thinkin’ enough for the both of us anyway.”

You let out a small exhale, forcing the edge to retreat from your voice.

“I’ll be back in a while.” With that he turned around and left the room. A few minutes later you heard the backdoor open and shut.

Great.

You massaged your throbbing temples, eyes closed. He was right. Your mind wasn’t clear and you had been at this for hours. You wouldn’t be able to think critically.

Or at all.

You dropped back on the bed, grabbing a pillow and pressing it to your face. The coolness of the fabric felt nice.

You just let out a sigh, turning to your side to hopefully get some sleep.

_____

You woke up what seemed like hours later to a dark room.

It took your eyes a while to adjust stepping out into the hallway illuminated by the light in the kitchen.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice rang out. “Made you a sandwich.”

You rubbed your eyes groggily, looking where he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a sandwich on the table. He sat at the seat adjacent to it.

“Thank you.” You contemplated sitting next to him for dinner. It would be a first.

In the end you just grabbed your plate, giving him a half smile before making your way to the couch. You settled on sitting on the floor instead, leaning your back against the foot of the sofa.

The TV was already halfway through playing Megamind so you just let it continue, mindlessly chewing on the bread. As far as peanut butter sandwiches go, it wasn’t all that bad.

“Wilson,” you called out sheepishly, eyes not leaving the movie. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It wasn’t right.”

“It’s okay.”

How he let go of it so easily was beyond you. The sandwich was surprising too, but you took it, not wanting to change his mind. He couldn’t have poisoned it. You had checked his stuff.

You sat in silence for the rest of the movie. Your mind kept slipping in and out of thought but it was a comfortable atmosphere you found yourself in.

After the credits started rolling, you went to leave your plate in the sink. Sam brushed past you, grabbing the blanket at the foot of the couch, launching himself onto the cushions.

“What are you doing?” you asked, puzzled as he snuggled in.

“Going to sleep?” He tilted his head to look at you.

“Use the bed.”

“It’s your turn today.”

“Your back’s fucked up. I’ll take the couch.”

He didn’t budge.

“Go on.” You mentioned to the room with a shrug of your shoulder.

“You’re not going to let me argue, are you?”

You pressed your lips into a straight line to hide a smile, shaking your head lightly.

“Well, okay.” He let out a small noise as he got up. “Guess I’m sleeping business class tonight.”

Sam walked past you, careful not to bump into you. You swapped places with him, making your way to the couch, readjusting the blanket that was haphazardly left there.  

“Y/N.” You peered at him from the corner of your eye, only to fully turn when you caught his gaze. “I appreciate it.”

You just nodded, tossing the blanket over yourself as he switched off the light.

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