#modern women's dressing room with a white floor and a marble floor

[xfairydrawing]

Closet - Flat Panel

[talesoftheunimagined]

[Mistaken Identity] Chapter 1

Rating: General

Fandom: Good Omens (Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett)

Relationships: Aziraphale x Crowley, Aziraphale/Crowley

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Heartbreak, Love, Georgian Era

Summary:

The year is 1797. King George has just gotten over a bout of illness and a member of the English royal family had just gotten married to a Duchess of Holland, so why not throw a masquerade ball to celebrate the occasion and invite all the noblemen and women of The United Kingdom and surrounding areas?

Crowley and Aziraphale meet at the ball. Crowley, though, mistakes some identities.

Chapter 2 is now up! Here

😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈

ENGLAND 1797

Candlelight flickered over segments of intricate and boundless tiling, almost making it twinkle beneath the frilled edges of gowns and waltzing heeled shoes, lavishly gilded marble pillars adorned with various flowers joined the flooring to gilded balconies and up again to a florally carved and a gloriously painted plaster ceiling that supported the vast weight of what could well have been solid gold chandeliers that gleamed dully next to the candles that burnt in their arms amongst an abundance of crystal and diamond. Portraits of members of the English aristocracy adorned the walls and appeared with colorful landscapes and shining bright frames of bowls of fruits; apples, grapes, and bananas. A light summer breeze blew in through open windows which divulged any passers-by of the grandeur that the ballroom's event held.

Indeed. That night, at its very core, would be defined by the words grandeur and affluent.

George William Frederick, otherwise known as Mad King George in this modern day and had thrown a masquerade ball after marriage in the family and recovery a long bout of illness (although, his absence at the ball had arisen suspicions of deceit).

"I just absolutely knew that I'd see you here."

"Oh, 'course. Wouldn't miss something like this." He looked at is companion briefly.

Two men stood by a pillar. One clad in deep wine knickerbockers, white high socks and a matching wine tailcoat with shiny new obsidian buttons the colour of crows down; had his hair in neat copper rolls fastened just above his ears and a low ponytail fastened with a black ribbon hung over the back of his collar. Over his face, he wore a finely crafted mask of mahogany red. Gold rimmed the dramatically flicked eye holes that were shaded with black glass so that his eyes weren't visible. Two golden snakes seemed to search curiously for his eyes at the sides of the mask that was tied neatly with a black lace bow. The other was dressed quite similarly, except his knickerbockers were a nice magnolia that matched his hair and he wore a waistcoat of sky blue. He wore his hair naturally short and took pride in the sheen of his polished and buckled shoes in the candlelight. His mask was made of white porcelain rimmed with thick silver swirls and ornate curves. Blue gems nestled themselves amongst the curls and caught the light in a way that looked almost like a halo at the top of his mask. It wasn't quite clear how he kept such a mask from falling off of his face without a fastening, but he was doing it.

Aziraphale took a small sip from his glass (he was drinking honey spirits) and smiled at his surroundings and the people. Maybe even at nothing in particular. He was just happy to be in the presence of fine people, fine food and Crowley. His eyes creased at the sides and his cheeks glowed. It had been the first time since Paris 1793 that the pair had seen each other.

"It's really rather lovely, isn't it? All these people here, together. Having a wonderful time." The music swelled

"Yesss, well," Crowley mused. "with all that going on out in France, they all need it." The corners of his mouth turned down, but he wasn't frowning, or upset. It was just a Crowley thing.

The pair of them spotted a young woman bashfully approaching Crowley from across the other side of the room amidst the flurry of dress fabric and petticoats. She was wearing a swan mask, made of the same porcelain is Aziraphale's. She had a pretty face, her deep blue eyes peered out of her mask with shy curiosity and her dark hair was the nest for a large swan feather.

"Excuse me for being so bold, Count Crowley, but if you aren't occupied at the moment, I was wondering if you would like to dance?" Crowley turned to Aziraphale ever so slightly. "With...me." She clarified although both men (well, men shaped ethereal and occult beings) knew what she meant. Crowley accepted the invitation. It wouldn't do any harm to do some tempting tonight.

"I suppose I'll see you later then, eh?" He shot a small smirk at Aziraphale before disappearing into the sea of expensive fabrics leaving Aziraphale alone with his drink.

The angel watched with content at the couples that swirled and waltzed and box stepped. It wasn't long before he himself was asked to dance by a young woman. He smiled, asked a butler to kindly hold his drink, adjusted his waistcoat and set off to dance under the twinkling candles.

The night was still young.

[comatosebunny09]

Inspired by this post and @asirensrage.

Warnings: Female Reader, Female Anatomy, Bodily Fluids, Smut, Rough Smex, Fingering, Mentions of Piercings, Mentions of Acohol, Mafia!Kyo, Modern AU, Exhibitionism (?), Cheeky Reader, Self-Indulgent AF, MDNI!

Music: Slvt Me Out - NLE Choppa

You wanted to spend time with him. Felt like it had been ages since you last did. So he let you into his world for the night. A meeting at a neighboring family’s club. Promised to take you out for something more swanky after.

You acquiesced. Poured yourself into a thin little number, your cleavage spilling over, thighs bared, spiked heels strapped to your ankles. Worst of all, you bore no bra beneath it, the piercings in your nipples showing through the polyester of your dress. Your lips were painted a vibrant shade of red—Kyojuro’s favorite—to add insult to injury.

Something about the color of your smile and the s-line your body posed had all the men sneaking glances beneath the iridescence of the strobe lights. Had the women hanging off their arms gnashing their teeth, and rolling their eyes.

You painted a pretty picture. Exuded sex whilst you clung to your boyfriend, giggling here and there at a misplaced joke. You knew what you were doing. Stirring his ire. Never missed how Kyojuro’s smile twitched. How his hand blistered your thigh, creeping ever closer to the triangle of your thong throughout the night.

They warmed up to you quickly—the businessmen in tailored suits with tattoos branding their knuckles. Fed you liquor when Kyojuro stepped out to take a call. They tried vainly to teach you how to play darts and billiards. Had you bent over the pool table, a tittering, tipsy thing, their hands guiding the pool stick in your hands to the cue ball.

You never seen your boyfriend so miffed. A seething pot of rage, though he maintained his cheerful facade. He nodded at Tengen, his second in command. And the frosty-haired gent took over the meeting seamlessly after Kyojuro excused you both.

Meanwhile, Kyojuro snatched you away through the throng of club-goers. You toddled behind him in your platforms, the loin of your dress catching on your legs.

You can’t say you didn’t deserve to be bent over the cold marble countertop of the ladies’ room.

Couldn’t protest when he threw your dress onto your back and rained a succession of sharp slaps onto your bare ass. He didn’t spend much time on foreplay. He needed to brand you as quickly as he could. Needed everyone beyond the bathroom walls to know who you belonged to.

One finger was joined by another as he wrenched you open, your underwear shoved aside. Muttered the naughtiest of things against your skin as he prepared you for his girth. You were pulsating and begging and leaking onto the cuff of his shirt. The jarring sound of his zipper dragging downwards cut through the lustful nebula of your mind.

Your union was swift, his dick splitting you open from behind. You felt him in your throat. Tits ground against the arctic marble, drool leaking from your open mouth as he slammed into you repeatedly.

Your eyes rolled in bliss, hands scrambling for leverage. He shoved his thick fingers into your mouth. Pulled it taut at the corner, his other hand bruising your waist. He fucked you earnestly. Brutally. No remorse in his eyes as his hair tumbled from its updo, and sweat beaded on his forehead. The symphony of your sharp gasps, his labored breaths, and your heels scraping against the tiled floor filled the bathroom.

And then, he spilled into you. Hot and furtive spurts of milky white dribbled down your inner thighs. You were grinning like a drunken fool, loose-limbed over the counter, your pussy throbbing as he pulled out.

He helped you clean yourself. Fixed your hair to some semblance of neat, cum stains drying on the hem of your dress. He kissed you tenderly despite it all before shepherding you from the restroom. He held your arm tight as he guided you back to VIP, promising to do much worse against the shell of your ear if you misbehaved again.

He shouldn't have told you that. You spent the remainder of your time there pushing his buttons, hoping he would teach you another lesson.

[a-scribe-writing-short-stories]

From the Balcony

Photo: https://fineart-restoration.co.uk/news/from-regency-to-victorian-19th-century-portrait-styles-restoration/

   III. Rondo Allegro from Concerto in D Major for Violin and Orchestra Op. 61

            Ludwig Van Beethoven, Joshua Bell, Sir Roger Norrington, Camerata Salzburg(modern)

Disclaimer: The following piece should be played as the reader reads the story. The story is based off of the writer hearing this piece. The story is NOT about the song!

            The dancers take their marks. Women and men couples. The year, 1813. Everyone’s eyes are ghostly but present. Everyone’s face painted for a party but, no one is in parting spirits. Everyone acts.

            The twist and turns of the dance along with the 4-quartet band play, some German Beethoven piece. The dancer’s shoes strike the tan and white marble polished floor. One can see their own reflection but, not a perfect one. The reflections, more outlines of downlookers looking down past their shoes.

            Most of the men sweat cider. The women reek of exotic perfumes.  Only the dancers glide across the marbled floor; the band plays on a platform against the right wall of the grand, white portrait room. Portraits of Kings, Monarchs, and a few Women with gracefully, feminine qualities. If only male painters knew of the struggles us women go through on a daily.

            Above the dance floor is another floor redesigned as balconies for the High Elites to gawk and laugh, as if they don’t have the same daily struggles.

            Many of the women dancers are young with soft cheeks, youthful eyes, unawareness in their souls. These young ladies want to be picked by eligible bachelors lusting or disgusting on them from their balconies.

            A few men, cleaned shaved, hair dressed back, wearing their best suits also take turns peeking up at the balconies for any young larks who might even glance their gazes to those men. Some ladies scoff behind their delicately thin-painted fans. The room isn’t partially warm, but the Elite ladies fan their fans in various manners; some signals for yes, others for no and two younger girls seem to be having a conversation with their fans from across balconies.

            The song is almost at end, the chests of the dancers go up and down. Dancers gasp for air in-between beats. I lean off the ledge of my balcony, shallow the rest of the sweet, bitter, exotic red wine and walk to the hallway and down the stairs, away from the tiredness, lies, hopeless, bound-to-be-broken dreams of the marbled polished room with its gigantic, solid gold, weirdly designed frame portraits of people who have been long dead. To witness the dancers that were picked, were not picked, who laughed or just wanted to dance, had to be for another, another boring, useless, miserable-filled night party.  

Written By: V. Scri&e

[rhianna]

THE ALHAMBRA. THÉOPHILE GAUTIER.

You enter the Alhambra through a corridor situated in an angle of the Palace of Charles V., and, after several windings, you arrive in a large court, designated indifferently under the names of Patio de los Arraynes (Court of Myrtles), of the Alberca (of the Reservoir), or of the Mezouar (an Arabian word signifying bath for women).

When you issue from these dark passages into this large space flooded with light, the effect is similar to that produced by a diorama. You can almost fancy that an enchanter’s wand has transported you to the Orient of four or five centuries ago. Time, which changes everything in its flight, has altered nothing here, where the apparition of the Sultana Chaîne des cœurs and of the Moor Tarfe in his white cloak would not cause the least surprise....

The antechamber of the Hall of the Ambassadors is worthy of the purpose for which it was intended: the boldness of its arches, the variety and interlacing of its arabesques, the mosaics of its walls, and the work on its stuccoed ceiling, crowded like the stalactite roof of a grotto and painted with azure, green, and red, traces of which colours are still visible, produce an effect both charming and bizarre.

On each side of the door which leads to the Hall of the Ambassadors, in the jamb of the arch itself and where the facing of glazed tiles, whose triangles of glaring colours adorn the lower portion of the walls, are hollowed out, like little chapels, two niches of white marble sculptured with an extreme delicacy. It was here that the ancient310 Moors left their Turkish slippers before entering, as a mark of deference, just as we remove our hats in places that demand this respect.

From the Hall of the Ambassadors you go down a corridor of relatively modern construction to the tocador, or dressing-room of the queen. This is a small pavilion on the top of a tower used by the sultanas as an oratory, and from which you can enjoy a wonderful panorama. You notice at the entrance a slab of white marble perforated with little holes in order to let the smoke of the perfumes312 burned beneath the floor to pass through. You can still see on the walls the fantastic frescoes of Bartholomew de Ragis, Alonzo Perez, and Juan de la Fuente. Upon the frieze the ciphers of Isabella and Philip V. are intertwined with groups of Cupids. It is difficult to imagine anything more coquettish and charming than this room, with its small Moorish columns and its surbased arches, overhanging an abyss of azure, the bottom of which is studded with the roofs of Grenada and into which the breeze brings the perfumes from the Generalife,—that enormous cluster of oleanders blossoming in the foreground of the nearest hill,—and the plaintive cry of the peacocks walking upon the dismantled walls. How many hours have I passed there in that serene melancholy, so different from the melancholy of the North, with one leg hanging over the precipice and charging my eyes to photograph every form and every outline of this beautiful picture unfolded before them, and which, in all probability, they will never behold again! No description in words, or colours, can give the slightest hint of this brilliancy, this light, and these vivid tints. The most ordinary tones acquire the worth of jewels and everything else is on a corresponding scale. Towards the close of day, when the sun’s rays are oblique, the most inconceivable effects are produced: the mountains sparkle like heaps of rubies, topazes, and carbuncles; a golden dust bathes the ravines; and if, as is frequent in the summer, the labourers are burning stubble in the field, the wreaths of smoke, which rise slowly towards the sky, borrow the most magical reflections from the fires of the setting sun....

Turrets, towers, and temples : The great buildings of the world, as seen and… http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/72946

[dirteaicecream]

Modern Closet - Glass Front Inspiration for a large modern women's marble floor dressing room remodel with glass-front cabinets and white cabinets

[istorkyou]

The Break (Modern!Ivar AU)

A Modern!Ivar x reader

Warnings - Language, divorce, alcohol use.

Synopsis - Your best vacation ever. 

Hugs and shit to @punkrocknpearls

Tag List (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed :) )

@smears-and-spots @youbloodymadgenius @momowhoo @zuxiezendler @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog​ @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer​ @pieces-by-me @heavenly1927​ @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint @threekeysandkiwis @petite-hime​ @nothingtolosebutweight​ 

Chapter 1 

You walk into the crowded hotel bar, heels clicking across the polished black marble floor. You don’t look around: despite the air you give off, walking into somewhere like this on your own has always made you uncomfortable. 

You were a shy teenager and that stayed with you into your twenties when you decided to actively work on being less so. A shadow of your former self still follows you, and it sometimes casts shade over you, which you can feel now. 

Is it the way you are dressed? You are in formal workwear, a red blouse, tucked into your figure hugging, black pencil skirt, and high, black heels. The armour of your daily life. A necessity to be taken seriously in the professional world you inhabit. Dominate, if you were to be honest with yourself, despite your inherent shyness that you have spent almost two decades trying to outgrow. You still feel like an imposter sometimes.

You see a free seat in the corner of the busy bar and make your way over swiftly to claim it. It’s perfect, two seats, one with a great view out of the window over the city you are in and the other a perfect people watching spot.

Dumping your black coat on the table, signifying the table is taken to the rest of the patrons you head over to the bar, a typical hotel bar. Long, one bartender, and an abundance of bottles lined up along a mirrored backdrop, soft blue lighting illuminating the labels. 

The bartender approaches you with a smile asking what he can get for you. You order a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. You will be here for a while and don’t want to be interrupted by an empty wine glass and multiple visits for refills. 

He works quickly, uncorking the chosen bottle and offering you a sample. You knock it back, nodding your approval and he plunges the open bottle into an ice bucket, offering you a fresh glass, which you decline, and tells you the price. You give him your room number to charge it to, technically you are working so the company can pay for it. You head over to your table and settle down in the seat that overlooks the bar. 

You pour a glass and set it down on the table for a minute, allowing the liquid to settle and for the air in the room to reach the contents. As the wine is settling you glance around the bar at the other patrons. You feel much more relaxed now you have your drink and are settled in the corner, knowing this is your spot for a while. 

As is usual, the hotel bar is seventy percent men, 30 percent women, a standard ratio for this type of environment. Especially with the big conference so close, you think. 

You have a massive presentation in the morning. You tried to prepare in your room earlier, but the dead silence didn’t help your concentration, it hindered it. The hum of conversation is like white noise to you and helps you focus. 

You’ve prepared thoroughly, you just need to read over the notes and try and memorise as much as you can so the delivery is as natural as it can be. 

Your laptop is fired up in front of you and you have the slides on screen, prompt cards in your hand and you begin to rehearse in your head. 

You allow yourself a mouthful of wine each time you feel satisfied you know the slide well enough. 

After the third slide, and a massive gulp of your drink you turn your attention out of the window for a minute, your eyes dragging over the city scape below. 

“Surely you aren’t drinking alone?” A loud voice interrupts your thoughts. You turn to see a handsome man in front of the chair at your table. He is dressed in professional attire.

“I’m working,” you tell him, in a completely neutral tone. 

“You want some company? A drink?” His eyes are slightly glazed already. 

“No. I’m working and have a drink already.” You don’t say thank you for his offer. You would have done it when you were younger. Even a few years back. Not now though, you’ve been in enough of these situations to know how best to make them end quickly. No smiles, no words of appreciation. A detached neutrality works best. 

“Come on, let me buy you a drink! We are all here for the boring conference right, might as well have some out of town fun!” He pulls the back of the chair to sit down at your table. 

“Please don’t sit down. I’m working and I would like to be left alone to do so.” Neutral tone again, no emotion.

“Fine. Be like that,” his tone grumpy and annoyed. “Why are you in a bar trying to work? Go to your room and do it” his hand motioning towards you. 

You just look him in his eye and tilt your head slightly, remaining silent until he gets uncomfortable and stalks off back to his friends. 

You pick up your phone, an email banner is displayed from your solicitor. You suck in a big breath, close your eyes to prepare for the news and open the message. 

He is telling you the divorce mediation has been set for a week Monday. Ok, that gives you enough time to prepare, mentally. The practicalities have been discussed with your solicitor so there is no doubt what you want the outcome to be. 

A surprising pang of sadness hits you. You are annoyed at the feeling. You feel ashamed at the feeling. He doesn’t deserve to elicit that emotion from you, that fucking bastard. You can feel the familiar fizz in your nose as tears dare to form in your waterline. A sharp telling off of yourself forces them away and you turn back to your work computer. 

I need a break. 

You check your work schedule for the next week, no deadlines, nothing urgent. You send a message to Saskia, your PA asking her to reschedule your week. You need to unwind a bit before you have to deal with everything in your private life.

You finish the presentation prep and spend the next hour searching for hotels and for things to do in the city. You might as well take the break here, you’ve been here lots but have only ever seen the inside of hotels and conference centres. 

You find a cute boutique hotel, well located and book in for a week. You haven’t got enough clothes for a week  but it’s just a nice excuse to go shopping.

You drain your glass, pack up your stuff and head back to your room, you need a good night's sleep.

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

The presentation goes off mainly without a hitch. Some technological mishaps but you are able to address them with humour which has the full conference hall chuckling along with you. 

You are done by 11am and decide to sneak off for the rest of the day. You head to your room, change out of your work clothes into your actual clothing and head off to the hotel you will call home for the next seven days.

It’s an adorable place, your new room is full of colourful furniture and decorations. A very welcome change from the business suite in the other hotel. Not a shade of grey in sight. 

You check your watch and decide it’s best you head out clothes shopping today so you have the rest of the week to explore, and because you love to shop.

An hour later you have a few bags with some essentials in, underwear, some practical and some to just make you feel good, help pick your self esteem back up.

Walking past a large open store front, music pumping out into the street your eye is drawn to a beautiful cream coat so you head in to check it out. You flip through the rack until you find your size, slip your own coat off and try it on: it looks great and you smile at your reflection. You swap into your old old coat and drape the new coat over your arm. 

As you slowly walk around the shop you see so many things you want to try on. Heading to the cash register you plan to ask the guy behind it if you can dump your stuff there so you can load yourself up with more clothes before trying them on. 

As you approach the guy is staring at you. He is fucking hot. The hottest of hot.

“Hi, do you mind if I put all this behind your counter so I’ve got some free hands?” you ask him.

“Depends. What are you planning on doing with your free hands?” He smirks at you. 

You are shocked for a second by what he said, maybe I misheard him, but the amused look on his face lets you know you heard him perfectly. You chuckle at him. 

“Shop,” you say with a false shocked expression on your face, “maybe slap a retail worker for his cheek?” You smile and turn around to start looking through the clothes again. You hear him laugh as you walk away from him. 

You return to the counter with an arm full of clothes, “changing room?” 

 He points to the back of the store.

“If you need any help getting undressed just give me a shout.” 

“What very thorough customer service you offer here.” 

“I aim to please.” His face has the cheekiest smile on it you’ve ever seen.

You head away from him and into the changing room before he can see you blushing. 

You try on all the clothes and most of them are beautiful. You are trying on a chunky knit, red, jumper dress and come out of the changing room to stand back from the mirror a bit to get a better view. 

“Get it, it looks good on you.” His voice comes from your left. He’s holding a cute skirt and a graphic t-shirt, “put this on and come out and show me” he hands you the top. 

You stand for a bit looking at him, trying to decide what to do. “It’s not my style.”

“Try it on, the top matches your eyes” he pushes the skirt into your hand.

You take it from him and watch as he leans against the wall waiting for you. You notice he has braces on both legs and is using a crutch to lean on. You wonder how he got the injury.

In the changing room you try it on. Annoyingly it does suit you.

“Show me.” You hear him say. 

You leave the changing room and watch as he takes you in. In his hand is the cream coat you plan on buying. He walks behind you and slips the coat over the new clothes. He grabs you by the waist and spins you towards the mirror. The outfit looks great on you.

“Told you. Buy it” he states.

“You have a very hands on sales technique,” your eyes move to his hands on your waist in the reflection. 

“I am amazing at reading what people need,” he presses himself into your back, you can feel his muscles against you. Your eyes are locked on each other in the reflection of the mirror.

“Sold.” You step away from him and back into the changing room. He has given you butterflies. Time to get out of here. 

Taking the armfuls of clothes to the register, you dump them down for him to ring them up. 

“Do you think you’ve got enough?” He teases.

“Yeah, I’m staying here for a few days unexpectedly so didn’t bring anywhere near enough clothes with me” you tell him, counting through the clothes.

He tells you the total and you pay in cash. 

“Damn, I was hoping you were going to give me a card so I could know your name. I suppose I will just have to ask you, what’s your name?” 

You gather all the bags together and stare at him. 

“I’m Y/N.”

“Well Y/N, I can’t let you walk out of here without getting your number.” He pulls out his phone and waits for you to give it to him. 

You just stare at him. What do you do? 

“You are only here for a few days right? Throw caution to the wind! I promise you won’t regret it. I’ve got a big dick and know how to use it well.” 

“Oh yeah?” Your eyes and mouth are wide at his words and you're smiling in shock. 

Fuck it. 

“Give me your phone” he hands it to you with a massive grin on his gorgeous face. 

The need to see if he is telling the truth about his dick has you opening his notes app and typing in the name of your hotel, your room number and a time. You hand it back to him and he looks at the note, glancing back at you from under his lashes. 

“I will see you there then,” he licks his lips. You can feel yourself going red so you turn away from him and leave the shop.

On your walk back to your hotel you start to question why you gave him your details. Pure lust took over you. You really did just throw caution to the wind, like he said, and went for it. You deserve some fun, after these last few months. Why not have some with the hot guy from the shop? 

You shoot a text off to one of your more discreet  friends letting her know you’ve pulled a guy, giving her the shop address and a description of him and the details of the hotel you are staying in. Safety first. Unfortunately. 

Chapter 2

[kimvvantae]

puzzle; 7 (m)

➜  you and jungkook are best friends of a lifetime, even though your personalities are like unmatching pieces of a puzzle. the line between friendship and something more has never been crossed between you two - but that changes after a break up and a drunken night, when you not-so-accidentally cross this line to something much more. what happens when after this accident your non-matching puzzle pieces seem to match in a way you’ve never imagined?

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader

genre: smut, angst, comedy; friends with benefits au; college au

warnings: lots of swearing, a little bit of violence

rating: 18+

word count: 12k

A/N: sweet jesus it’s been so long but it’s finally here! this is the last but one chapter of the series. i genuinely hope you guys enjoy it and i reeeeally want to know your thoughts on it! feel free to leave a comment! if you feel i’m deserving of it lmao

enjoy!

➜  Chapters: check up masterlist in bio!

« playlist »

[bby bear]: where are you???

[bby bear]: you'll get late for class 

[you]: i knoww

[you]: the traffic is so heavy today 🤦🤦

[bby bear]: you should have come w me 

[you]: i need to go to the bank

[you]: i told you

[bby bear]: i could have taken u theer

[bby bear]: there

[you]: 🥺🥺 next time i'll go w you i promise!!

[you]: but i'm close

[you]: i'll probably lose the first period tho

[bby bear]: 🤦

You shove the phone inside of your pocket when you notice the pedestrian sign is finally green. The crowd on both sides of the avenue rush, everyone on their fast pace as usual. You're even forced to push some people in order to walk by.

Getting to the other side of the street, you stop in front of the building.

Tall as fuck. That cool kind of building with mirrors all over it, where only cool people wearing cool suits walking around holding cups of coffee on one hand and phones on the other hand talking business language kind of people work at. 

You certainly don't work here. You definitely don't have any stuff to do here. You surely are not close to the campus and you will lose much more than just the first period.

Seulgi will most definitely punch your face when she finds out where you are and what you're about to do.

You confidently walk inside the building, pushing through its glass doors into the pristine, modern and gigantic main hall. Your black boots contrast with the high heels all the other women wear around you. So does the rest of your outfit. Mini skirts and oversized hoodies are not part of the dress code here. You can almost hear their minds asking, what is this person doing here? The clanck clanck sound of their heels clicking against the marble floor is somehow pleasing, though.

You stop in front of the reception counter. A pretty girl opens a crystal white smile to you. Her hair is tied tightly, her uniform was ironed to perfection. "Good morning. How can I help you?" She chirps happily. 

"Good morning. My name is Y/N. I'd like to talk to Irene."

The smile quickly falters.

The girl side eyes her colleague that sits by her side. "Hmm… unfortunately, Miss Irene does not receive visits," she says carefully, still trying to keep her smile. "You must be mistaken."

You can see this girl thinks you're crazy. You quickly realize that people usually don't come at the reception and simply say they want to talk to Irene. But, well, what else would you do? You have to announce your presence somehow. 

"Irene is waiting for me. You can call her and ask if you want," you insist. 

The receptionist looks pale for a moment.

Hesitantly, she takes the phone and dials a number. You can still see that the girl thinks you're lying; she's probably ready to call the security guards. During her quick talk on the phone, you notice she's not talking to Irene, but with her secretary. 

You also see the moment her eyes widen.

She hangs up the phone and stands up, smiling widely again.

"Miss Y/N, Irene is waiting for your arrival," she says, and you notice the slight tone of panic in her voice. "Please, accompany me."

All the other visitors have to show their identifications and take a quick picture on the reception, you notice, but the girl simply ignores this procedure with you, guiding you to the elevator instead. She explains the situation to the security guard and he lets you in. The receptionist still looks slightly panicked. She's probably scared that you'll complain how the receptionist was rude to me directly to Irene, but you won't. Poor girl was just doing her job.

The elevator is big, too. It has a panoramic view of the city as it goes up to one of the highest floors. 

You always thought Seulgi was overreacting when she said how bad she sometimes felt for dating Irene, but now you kind of understand her.

You knew Irene was rich. You can recognize a Gucci jacket when you see one, and you've seen Irene wearing plenty of these. But Irene always acted so normal. Sure, she was elegant - and sometimes even arrogant -, but she was still someone very pleasant to be around. She never looked disgusted to be in your tiny but comfy apartment, she never made faces when she'd sometimes wear some of Seulgi's or your clothes when she didn't bring any to spend the night, she never complained to eat the junk food you'd buy for dinner. She was just… chill.

Because of that, you'd forget that she's rich sometimes.

Being in this massive building where everyone acted as if she was a princess made you remember, though.

Irene is beyond rich. Your standard of "rich" used to be Joy: someone that has a cool, big house in a nice part of the city. Irene partially owns a fucking company. She's so chill that you never even bothered to Google the company's name; you did this today to get the address, and it only made you more shocked.

Seulgi must have felt overwhelmed many times in their relationship.

But you're sure she was much happier back then than she is now.

You're used to their drama. They were already dating when you first met Seulgi, and you saw this cycle repeating many times. This time, though, things are not happening as usual. Seulgi is the saddest you’ve ever seen in these almost three years of convivence. Right after they broke up, you thought she was just being dramatic as usual… now you see that it isn’t simple drama. She’s actually sad and has been in this state for months. She doesn’t go out anymore, stopped doing the things she liked… she even got tired of Netflix. That’s probably the most shocking fact of all. 

Jungkook said you shouldn’t get involved in this, but you’re tired of seeing your friend being so sad all the time.

Their breakup was messy this time. They didn’t talk properly, didn’t make things clear. Seulgi is too stubborn to make a move (she’s totally lethargic at this point, both physically and spiritually), and Irene also seems too stubborn. Since none of them has the balls to do anything, you finally decided to step up and take action.

(Funny how you thought Jimin was annoying for trying to push you and Jungkook together, but you’re doing the exact same thing right now).

Well, look, you’re not exactly trying to push them into each other. First, you want to know Irene’s feelings and opinions on this situation. If you see that she has really moved on from Seulgi, then you’re ready to give your friend all the comfort and support in the world so she finally moves on. If Irene shows you that she still has feelings for Seulgi… well…

The speed in which she replied to your DM is a strong indicative of that.

The way her eyes glint with undeniable hope when the elevator doors open and she greets you is another indicative.

Irene looks gorgeous as always; she’s like a human version of Snow White. It’s kind of funny to meet her in her office like this. She’s almost like a female and hotter version of Christian Grey. 

Her ways of greeting you are polite and… hesitant. You understand why. She probably doesn’t get what you’re doing here in the first place, what you want to talk about. Considering you’re Seulgi’s friend, she must think you’d be mad at her or something.

“Why didn’t you call me, Y/N? My guests never enter from the common hall.” she asked. Oh. Common hall is what that massive hall is called. Almost like peasants area.

“I didn’t know.” you simply say, shrugging. 

“I’m sorry that we’re meeting here at my workplace. It feels too profissional, doesn’t it?” she smiles sheepishly.

Well… it does. You don’t even feel comfortable enough to move around her great office, afraid that you’d accidentally break anything (you’re sure that every little piece in this room is much more expensive than you’d be able to afford). 

“Come on, let’s go to the cafeteria. I think it’ll be more comfortable to talk there.” she politely suggests, and you just agree with her.

Irene guides you around the halls. This floor is less crowded, since only Important People with Important Tasks work here - and she’s greeted by all of them as she passes by. Their eyes immediately float to you, and they were surely asking themselves why Princess Irene was being followed by this peasant. 

The cafeteria in question is as pretty and neatly clean as the rest of the building. Soft music plays from the speakers. Irene chooses a more private table by the windows and asks if you want to have breakfast; you politely decline and both of you end up ordering simple cups of coffee. 

An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air.

"I… have to confess that I got surprised when I saw your DM," Irene speaks softly. Her eyes are glued on her cup of coffee. "It's been a while."

"Yeah." 

"How are you doing?"

"I'm doing fine." a hundred different scenes pass on your head as she asks this, and you know that you feel anything but fine in the moment, but it's not as if you'll rant about your complicated love life right now. "But I'm sure you don't want to ask about me."

You see a shade of pink flush Irene's cheeks.

"Well… I don't think it would be right to ask about her." Irene says.

"Why not? It's not as if you didn't know I came here to talk about Seulgi."

"But she doesn't want to know about me."

You're left speechless for a few seconds.

It's funny to see the two sides of a breakup. Because of their stubborness, they became completely out of tune with each other. Irene thought that Seulgi didn't want to know about her, when you knew pretty damn well that Seulgi stalked her social media an unhealthy amount of times per day.

You cross your arms and lean your back on the chair. Irene looks hesitant, but you see she's eager to know whatever information you may have. That's not the behavior of someone that hates their ex.

"Can I ask you something?" you say. It's funny how Irene, the owner of pretty much everything around you, looks so cornered by you, her shoulders shrinking visibly. She nods softly. "Why did you guys break up? I mean, what's your side of the story?"

Irene sighs and passes her hand through her dark hair. She looks out the window. She doesn't seem irritated by your ask. She just seems… thoughtful.

It makes you realize that, perhaps, Seulgi's not the only one feeling broken here.

"We're… different." she starts quietly. "I have been trying to keep this relationship working for a long time, you know. Even though we argued a lot and disagreed about many things. But…" Irene sighs again. Sadness shadows her features. "It was getting hard. Seulgi never accepted my help. She knows that money is no problem for me, and I just wanted to help, but why did she act so angry every time I wanted to help you guys?"

Oh.

You don't miss the way she said "help you guys"; she must be talking about the times both of you were struggling to pay the rent. Oh God. You clearly see where their opinions diverge. Irene has always been rich; she saw money as something simple, giving money to others wasn't a big deal. Meanwhile, Seulgi must've felt dependent and it surely hurt her pride. Besides, there were enough people saying that Seulgi was only dating Irene to get money from her…

"And there's more." Irene's voice becomes quieter, more fragile. "My family, they're… very conservative. It was already hard enough for them to accept my sexuality. They never did, to be honest… but they particularly don't like Seulgi, because she's not, hm, on my "social level", as they like to say."

Ooh.

This is more complicated. Seulgi doesn't know what it feels like; her family is very open minded. She told you that, in the beginning, her parents were shocked when she told them that she also liked girls, but they slowly accepted it. Irene, on the other hand… 

"They keep saying that my relationship with her will be bad for the company." She confesses. "They said they'd even accept my relationship, as long as we dated in secret."

"What?!" you gasp. "This is disgusting!"

"I know." Irene nods, eyes focused on the mug between her hands. You have the impression that you see tears welling up on her eyes, but she blinks rapidly to dissipate them. "I… I was willing to go against them, because if they don't accept my relationship, then they don't accept who I am. But… I don't know if it's worth doing this if I'm not sure if Seulgi feels the same about me."

Ouch.

You remembered the night when they broke up. Seulgi came to you, crying, and said that she was tired of being with someone that wasn't brave enough to accept her.

Seulgi, my dear… you know nothing.

You can see that to go against her parents isn't as simple as it sounds. To Irene, going against her family involves reputation, money, and the company itself. It's definitely a big deal. Seulgi didn't understand how serious it is.

And Irene is willing to take this big step for her.

It's your time to sigh. 

"Irene." you lean closer, staring at her seriously. "Do you still love Seulgi?"

She blinks at your direct question. Irene looks down, gulps… and nods.

"I do love her."

You can't hear any hint of doubt on her voice.

That's what you wanted to hear.

"She's not okay." You blurt out the truth. Irene widens her eyes softly and looks at you. You see guilt on her eyes as she hears this. "I came here because I'm worried about her. She doesn't act like herself anymore. She even got tired of Netflix."

Irene widens her eyes in shock. "She stopped watching Netflix?!"

"Yes." You nod seriously. "And she still loves you, too."

Irene freezes when you say this.

Now, you're sure of the tears welling up on her eyes.

"I…" she stutters, unable to form a coherent sentence. "A-Are you sure?"

You can't help but giggle at her; Irene looks shy, almost like a teenager - scared and excited to know that her crush likes her back. You feel your own heart warming up at the sight.

"Of course I'm sure."

A smile wants to make its way up to her lips. "B-But what do I do? I can't just walk up to her like this. I don't want to start another fight…"

"Irene, believe me. Seulgi will listen to anything you have to say, as long as you're being honest. Tell her about the situation with your family. Prove to her that you're willing to stand for her. I mean, if you're still willing to…"

"I am!" Irene exclaims in a heartbeat. "I am. As long as she's with me, I feel like I can do anything."

You feel yourself smiling. Irene's eyes are shining like diamonds.

"But you also have to try to understand her." You say seriously. "Seulgi is not wrong for wanting to be independent. She's finishing her studies, she wants to build a career for herself, and she wants her own money. I know you're trying to help, but you have to respect her. Also, I'm sure she doesn't want to be a burden for you."

Irene nods vehemently. "Okay. You're right. I get it."

She doesn't hold her smile back anymore as a tear rolls down her cheek. She looks so immensely happy… it's a delightful sight. And you can't help but feel happy too, because right now, more than ever, you see that Seulgi found something rare and precious in this world.

True love.

And this fact itself is enough to make you feel that coming here was worth it - even though Seulgi might want to kill you afterwards.

"But hey, Irene," you call her seriously again. "I'm doing all this because both of you stupid asses couldn't, but if you make Seulgi cry again, I will kill you. I know where you work now."

Irene laughs at your very serious threat. She leans forward and holds both of your hands. "Y/N, thank you so much for telling me all this. I will forever be grateful. If you need anything- and I mean anything- I will help you, okay? Anything!"

"Alright, alright," you say, shrugging, the slight thought that a millionaire owns you a favor sounding nice. "Now, you better go talk to Seulgi. I can't stand her walking around the living room looking like a zombie anymore." Irene laughs softly. "And… I said I wasn't hungry, but now I kind of want that waffle."

Seulgi looks like a very grumpy zombie when you meet her in the corridor.

"Where the hell were you?!" Seulgi exclaims. "It's noon!"

"Yeah, I know." you shrug. "The bank was pretty crowded."

Seulgi narrows her eyes. Her hair looks messy even though it's tied up and she has bags underneath her eyes. She's wearing the top of her old orange pajamas. It has an old kitchen oil stain over the chest. Seulgi from months ago would rarely go out looking like this. 

"What the hell did you need to do there anyway? I didn't even know people still go to banks." She whines. "I was getting worried, you know?"

You walk down the corridor with your hands behind your back. You're glad Seulgi is too grumpy to notice the sly smirk on your lips, the way you kind of bounce by her side in expectation.

"Always so thoughtful, Seul. You're so cute, did you know that?"

She side eyes you, the frown deepening. "Why are you complimenting me?"

"What's the problem with complimenting you?"

"Whenever you compliment me it means either you want something or you did something that you know will piss me off."

Sometimes you forget how well Seulgi knows you. 

"Jesus, you're too stressed, girl. I'll pay you lunch, okay? Let's eat at that Italian restaurant you like."

"When you offer yourself to pay for stuff it also means that-"

Seulgi stops in her tracks, completely frozen.

"Irene?"

You step back silently and hold your breath.

This is the moment that might end your friendship with Seulgi if it goes bad.

Irene seems to be holding her breath as well, her eyes round - scared, hesitant, hopeful. 

And they stand there, looking at each other. As if time has slowed down. As if there was no one else besides them in the busy corridor.

If this was a drama, you imagined that the romantic soundtrack would kick in now.

"Hi, Seulgi." Irene says softly. "It's… it's been a while."

It seems that Seulgi's brain is struggling to function. "What… what are you doing here?" the fact that she does not sound defensive or aggressive but genuinely surprised and confused relieves your chest. 

"I came here to talk." Irene says. "Just… just talk. But if you want me to go…"

"No." Seulgi interrupts her embarrassingly too fast. "It's alright. We… we can talk. Just talk."

Their eyes are gleaming and the ghost of smiles appear on their lips.

Your chest fills with triumph as you silently walk back. Not that either of them would even notice you anyway.

You're too far to hear what they're saying now, their soft voices drowning in the middle of the many more people walking around the corridor, but you still kind of hide inside an empty classroom, half of your body peeking outside of the door to watch them. They're talking and smiling timidly. You feel tempted to take some photos, but it's better not to. You kind of feel like an intruder watching them, even if you're this far-

"What are you doing?" 

You almost feel your spirit jumping out of your body when the male voice asks dangerously close to your ear, turning around in a jump to see the source.

Now you don't know if your heart is beating so ridiculously fast because of the scare of because of the view in front of you.

Jungkook looks down at you with a puzzled expression, his hands behind his back, his body slightly leaning on your direction. He's wearing a modern grey hanbok over a black t-shirt and slippers. His backpack hangs from one shoulder. His hair is half tied up in a small bun, curly bangs falling over his eyes. This is precisely what makes your heart almost fail. You've been wondering how he would look like with his hair tied up ever since he decided to let it grow…

He's got no business looking this good. No. Fucking. Business.

But you're a master of pretending you're unbothered, so you just point ahead at their direction with an excited smile. Jungkook's eyes look up to where you're pointing and his eyes widen.

"Oh!" Almost instantly, he kind of hides behind you as well. It's hard to ignore the warmth of his body on your back, even though he isn't close enough to touch you. "Did they make up? Are they dating again?" 

"I hope they will." it's weird how you're both speaking so low, as if they could possibly hear you over the loud chatter. 

"What if they start fighting?" 

"Don't even say that! I put my friendship with Seulgi at risk to get these two to talk!"

You turn your head in time to see Jungkook's eyes frowning as he realizes what's going on.

"It was you?"

"Of course it was."

He crosses his arms over his broad chest and shakes his head slowly in disapproval. "You said you wouldn't get involved!"

"I never said I wasn't going to get involved." you bat your lashes prettily at him, trying to give your best innocent look (unsuccessfully). 

"You damn gremlin."

You whack his chest. "Aw, come on! Just look at them and tell me it isn't working!"

Both of you look ahead again to see them smiling sweetly at each other as they talk. You bounce and giggle excitedly like a little kid. "Look, look! She's blushing!"

Jungkook tilts his head to the side. "But what about Jennie?"

"Oh, Irene and Jennie went out on dates, but it didn't work out in the end. They're just friends." you repeat the exact same words Irene told you earlier. 

"Are you sure?"

"Well, if she cheats on Seulgi, I'll kill her."

You watch as they slowly start to walk away side by side, heading towards the exit.

You jump out of your "hideout" and open your arms in triumph. "I did great this time, didn't I?!"

Jungkook chuckles and leans on the doorway, arms crossed. "Whatever you say."

You're an expert at acting unbothered, but right now it's really hard to do so when he looks at you this way.

He has a pretty lazy smile on his lips. It makes you feel hot inside and your stomach jumps and your heart races. His gaze is intense… but not in the way you're used to. That look isn't his I want to fuck kind of look, it's… it's… shit, you don't know what that means, but it's pretty intense. Why is he looking at you like that?

You just hope he doesn't notice how your legs are wobbly.

It's the first time you see him in person since two days ago, when he slept at your house. Two days after you had sex even though you said you wouldn't. You didn't talk properly about what happened there. To be honest, your brain still didn't process that well. 

Things are awkward between you two - but this time it's a different kind of awkward. A type of awkward that made your cheeks burn while you cleaned yourself and got dressed. A type of awkward that made you feel all fuzzy and warm inside, that made a silly smile grow on your lips every time your eyes crossed his from the other side of the living room, an awkwardness that forced you both to look away and try to pretend your cheeks weren't aching from the damn smile that didn't want to go away. A type of awkward that didn't let you talk about what happened - as if none of you wanted to talk about it, to just keep it engraved in your minds forever, as if talking about it would take all the magic of the moment away.

You don't hate this type of awkward. 

It's not uncomfortable. Not like what has been happening for the past months. Yet, you feel that you need to talk about it - to sort things out clearly and straightforwardly this time… because if the way he's looking at you means anything, then maybe… just maybe…

"I've got good news." Jungkook says suddenly (because he noticed that you've been staring at each other for far too long to not be embarrassing anymore). 

"What?" you fiddle with your own fingers, trying to ease the tension.

"Remember that director I told you about? Mr. Choi?" You nod. "He invited me to work with him."

Your jaw drops, your eyes widen. "What? Are you serious?!"

Jungkook nods excitedly. "Yeah. Well, I'll be like the assistant of the assistant, to be honest, but… he invited me to work with him on his next project. I'll gain some real experience, at least…"

"Are you kidding? This is great, Kook! What the fuck!"

You jump over to hug him, your arms dropping around his shoulders, and Jungkook quickly hugs you back. His low excited giggle right next to your ear makes goosebumps crawl on your skin. 

"I'm so fucking proud of you!" And you couldn't be more honest. Jungkook has always been so  hardworking; he deserves all the success and recognition in the world. You always thought so.

"Thank you," his voice is still low and excited.

He caresses your back. It makes yet more goosebumps crawl on your skin. 

Oh, God. He still smells like baby powder. He always does. You feel tempted to sniff the crook of his neck, just to take a little bit more of his scent, but you hold yourself back. It's not like hugging Jungkook is something new to you. Fuck, after everything you've done, hugging should feel like nothing. But for some reason… hugging him right now feels like a lot.

Feels awkward.

So awkward that you have to remind yourself that you're in the middle of a corridor full of people, and that this hug is taking way too long, so you step back before your brain completely malfunctions. 

"A-And," you clear your throat and put a strand of hair behind your ear, furiously avoiding his gaze. You never thought that Jungkook would make you feel shy like this. Shy and Y/N shouldn’t make sense in the same sentence. "When is this next project?"

"In two days. I think he decided to put me on the crew last minute."

"This means that he really trusts you."

Jungkook smiles sheepishly and massages the back of his neck. "I just hope I won't mess things up."

"You'll do great, Kook. You always do."

He lifts his gaze to you again.

That same look again.

You feel that everything is blurred except him again. No one else is in that corridor. No loud chatter. Just him and his starry eyes, looking back at you, eyes that smile as much as his lips.

God.

You need to sort things out.

You can't just stare at him with heart eyes like this anymore. You need to talk about what happened. This conversation feels awkward because you're both trying to act normal, pretending that there isn't a fucking elephant in the room - an elephant that makes you think of a mattress in the middle of your living room, of sunrays touching his exposed skin, of old pajamas being thrown around and sweat and soft kisses and salty tears dripping down your temples.

You need to know if he also felt that that morning was different. You need to know if he feels the same. Even if he doesn't - even if his heart lays with Yeri or Joy or whoever it might be - you need to know, and you don't care about what the outcome might be. You just can't torture yourself like this anymore.

So you inhale and gulp.

"Jungkook, I was thinking… are you busy after classes?" you ask timidly.

He presses his lips together. "Actually, I am. The boys and I are planning to celebrate the end of the semester tonight."

Mission abort! Mission abort!!

"Why?"

"Oh- it's nothing. I was just…" you can't think of any excuse. "It's not that important anyway. Forget it."

Jungkook looks at you with suspicion. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah! I'm sure. Nevermind."

He still stares at you for a while, frowning. 

"You wanna come with us?"

"No!" you shake your hands dismissively. You're not having this super important conversation surrounded by all of his friends. "I'm just gonna bother you guys. It's fine, Jungkook. Enjoy your night." 

Jungkook shrugs. He takes his phone from his back pocket for a moment. "Well, I gotta go. I promised I'd pay Jimin lunch."

"Alright."

You start to walk in opposite directions.

“But we can meet tomorrow, right?” You turn around way too fast when you hear Jungkook say, a few steps away from you. He looks hesitant, an awkward little smile on his lips. “I have some stuff to do, but we can see each other at night. After I finish preparing my stuff. We could meet, right?” He visibly starts to look more and more awkward as he speaks. As if his confidence started to vanish. It’s kind of adorable. “You could come to my place. O-Or I could go to yours, I don’t care- I mean, can I?”

Your heart is bouncing crazily inside of you. You don’t notice how you’re mirroring his awkward smile. “Of course, Kook. When did you ever need permission to go to my apartment?”

Jungkook frowns as if he just realized how stupid his ask was. “Guess you’re right. Or maybe we could go out somewhere, right? It’s been a while since we went out, the two of us.”

He’s right. All you’ve been doing for the past months is meet to have sex. You don’t even remember the last time you two did something that didn’t involve getting naked. 

“Sure, let’s go out.” 

You stare at each other for a few more awkward moments (awkward is a word you’ve been thinking a lot about lately). See, that’s not how things would go between you two back then. Neither of you ever needed to ask previously to go out. You’d just usually drag Jungkook out of his house by force when you deemed he hasn’t been taking enough sunlight (fucking Overwatch). Or Jungkook would call you at 3am because he was bored of playing Overwatch and just realized there was only expired milk and an empty box of cereal in the cabinets because the last time he and Jimin bought food was 2 weeks ago and he’d be like “hey, let’s go to Walmart” and you’d be like “what the fuck Jungkook it’s 3am” and he’d be like “but Jimin’s not home I need help” and you’d be like “fuck you” but twenty minutes later you’d both be on your pajamas pushing a cart inside of an empty Walmart as you barely register Jungkook ranting about how he thinks he’s lactose intolerant because he had diarrhea the last time he ate yogurt.

That’s kind of how things used to go back then.

At the same time you desperately want your relationship to go back to normal, you don’t really hate the way you’re feeling right now.

“Right, I gotta go.” Jungkook snaps out of it faster than you and nods. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.”

Again, you turn around and start to walk in opposite directions. Slowly. Hesitantly. Because both of you know you don't want to go. Both of you know you still have a lot to talk about.

But maybe later.

[bby bear]: i kinda want to kill you rn but

[bby bear]: thank u so fcking much

[bby bear]: ily

[bby bear]: bitch

You're smiling so hard that your cheeks might probably start to ache. If Seulgi texted you this, it means things went really well with Irene. 

The chatter in the dining hall is nothing but background noise on your ears as you scroll down your boring Instagram feed, the plate just half eaten in front of you. You’re not really hungry. Maybe the stress of studying for finals messed your stomach. The hell’s finally over, at least, and you’re sure that your grades won’t be that bad (Seulgi didn’t want to do anything, but you at least convinced her to study with you. That’s the only thing that got her out of her bedroom. Her zombie state was kinda the reason why you studied so hard). 

Some text notifications pop on your screen, but you just swipe them away since none of them are from the person you’re waiting for. All of your friends are planning to go out tonight and some of them are asking if you want to go. No, you don’t. Honestly, you’ve not been feeling yourself these days. Past you would always be up to a party. Past you wouldn’t be having lunch alone in the dining hall - honestly though, you don’t even mind being by yourself. Nothing would make you feel emptier right now than being surrounded by random people. Just one person matters at the moment-

“Hi.”

You almost drop the phone inside the plate when you look up to see who just sat in front of you.

Joy.

Your throat feels suddenly bitter. You have to gulp.

“Jesus, I didn’t even notice you come,” you inhale and chuckle. “How you doing, Joy?”

Joy smiles. “I’m fine.”

She’s lying.

There’s something in the way she looks at you and in the way her smile looks plastic-fake that makes you shiver.

It makes you think that she didn’t even want to be here.

Well, you don’t know about her, but you certainly feel uncomfortable right now. You can’t lie that you’ve been feeling kind of guilty these days because you’ve been fucking the guy she likes in secret, but a big fat load of guilt hit you especially after two days ago. Joy went on a date with Jungkook and barely a few hours later you had him inside of you. And, of course, you had rough sex with him inside of her bathroom. All the while you knew Joy liked him and encouraged her to be with him-

Wow, it’s getting hard to look at her right now. 

You really are a bitch. In the beginning you didn’t feel bad because you stupidly assumed there weren’t feelings involved. It was just friends with benefits, right? You even agreed that you could have sex with other people. If Jungkook started dating Joy, of course you’d stop doing it. Also, there was nothing between you two. You didn’t even feel jealousy.

Things changed, though, and at some point you genuinely started to hate this poor girl for breathing around Jungkook. And now you feel guilty because you realized that you like the guy that she told you she had a crush on months ago.

I took a shower this morning, so why do I feel so dirty right now?

A shiver runs down your spine.

The way she’s looking at you… what if she knows-?

“I’m throwing a party tonight,” she says suddenly. “To celebrate the end of the semester. You wanna come?”

You’ve been fucking the guy she likes for months and there she is, being nice and inviting you to her party. You really are a fake ass bitch-

“O-Oh.” You rub the back of your neck. “I, uhm… thanks, Joy, but I’m not feeling very well today. I just feel like sleeping, to be honest.” You chuckle sheepishly again. 

Joy nods. “Alright.”

She doesn’t insist. It looks like she doesn’t even care. As if she’s just being polite.

In fact, it kind of looks that she’s relieved that you said no-

“So, how was your date with Taehyung?” She changes the topic quickly. “We didn’t even talk about it.”

Right. She’s talking about the person you don’t even want to think about because there’s only so much guilt one person can feel at once. 

“It was fun.” You say. “We had a lot of fun.”

It sounds stupid, the way you can’t even articulate your date with him. You’re not lying - you had fun… kind of. 

“Are you dating him now?”

Okay, this is getting strange. Not the question, but the way she asked. You’re 100% sure she’s annoyed by something, and honestly looks uninterested in your current state with Taehyung right now, so why is she asking anyway? 

“No, we’re not.” You admit. 

Joy stares at you in silence as if she’s waiting for you to say something more, but you say nothing else. Joy then nods. This is getting very uncomfortable.

You feel that she’s about to leave, so you pick up the courage to speak again. She touched this topic anyway.

You know it’s wrong to ask. You shouldn’t. But you’re so curious that you can’t help.

“A-And, uhm… what about you and Jungkook? How was your date?” you try so hard to pretend you’re not dying curious to know.

Joy stares at you in silence again. She isn’t smiling.

“He didn’t tell you?”

What? Is there something to tell?!

“No. Jungkook’s kinda private about this type of thing,” you’re lying, of course, because even if Jungkook didn’t want to, you’d usually annoy him with questions about his dates so hard that he’d end up telling everything that happened.

Joy looks away and quirks one eyebrow. “Oh. I assumed he would have since you guys are so close.”

The way she says so close bothers you.

It’s her turn to rub the back of her neck, her eyes glued on the table - only she doesn’t look nervous. Yeah, she’s annoyed. Joy takes so long to talk that you’re about to repeat your question, but she finally speaks:

“We also had fun. Jungkook really is a sweet guy, right? He did nothing wrong. He’s so polite that it ended up annoying me, honestly. More polite than I would have wanted him to be…” Hah, so they didn’t fuck! Great! “Well, he dropped me home and I invited him to spend the night and all, but… He was very polite. He apologized a lot and said that he couldn’t stay…”

Joy licks her lips. Why the dramatic pause? Say it already, come on!

“He’s also a very honest guy, right?” She chuckled, but she clearly didn’t think it was funny. “He said that he thought I was an amazing person, but things wouldn’t go further than this because…”

For the first time, Joy lifts her gaze and looks at you.

“Because he already had feelings for someone else.”

You’re honestly not breathing anymore.

Joy is watching you very carefully. You’re as stiff as a board.

“Not a fun way to finish a date, right?” She says and chuckles, again, it’s clear she isn’t happy at all. “Anyways, I have to go now. Bye.” 

She gets up and walks away before you can even say anything, as if this conversation was being unbearable for her.

Meanwhile, you just sit there. Frozen. Breathless.

He said things wouldn’t go further than this.

Your throat feels very dry out of sudden. Very, very dry and coarse, as if you’ve eaten sand. 

Because…

You take the water bottle from over the table and drink it in one big, big gulp, until the bottle is empty and your shaking fingers crushed the fragile pet bottle.

He already had feelings for someone else.

You get up and take the tray so fast that you almost drop everything.

Your movements are fast as you walk out of the busy dining hall, your heart beating loudly on your ribcage, your breathing irregular and your mind working at 200 km/h.

He already had feelings for someone else.

He told Joy this. He dropped her home and told her the truth. He apologized. He… he said he already had feelings for someone else. Jesus Christ. Your heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s going to stop anytime soon.

He- He-

He might be talking about Yeri, a little, hesitant voice inside your mind whispers. Well… sure. You’ve been suspecting it for a good while. But… after Jungkook dropped Joy home and said this he-

He went to your apartment.

He went to you.

You feel the need to stop walking and lean on the corridor’s wall. The world around you is blurred.

What is this feeling bubbling up in your chest? A feeling so strong that it’s almost spilling over? This thing that makes you open the widest smile you ever opened and makes you want to jump around the corridor like crazy?

He came to me. He came to me. He came to me. He came to me.

He came to me!

But-

But there’s still the Yeri possibility. 

You need to know the truth. To hear him say it, and you can’t wait another day - not anymore.

You take your phone from your bag and type with shaking fingers.

[you]: hey

[you]: can we meet today?

[you]: i really need to talk to you

Jeon Jungkook is a simp. 

He doesn’t like this word. He thinks it’s annoying how people would call a guy a simp just because he’s treating a girl with minimal decency. 

But, like. He’s a simp. He knows he is. He took a long time to admit this, but lately his pride has been already so crushed and stepped on by a particular pair of feet that he can’t even bring himself to feel anything anymore.

Actually, no. He has been feeling like shit for a long time. It’s just the alcohol anesthetizing him right now.

That’s just his second bottle of beer and he already feels kind of dizzy. It’s been a while since he last drank alcohol, that’s probably why his resistance feels weak. He makes a mental reminder to not drink too much. Jungkook knows that he gets really talkative when he’s drunk and he always ends up saying stuff he shouldn’t - and today especially he can’t end up saying stuff he shouldn’t with that guy around.

If he knew Taehyung would be here too, Jungkook wouldn’t have come. Yes, he knows he’s being childish. He knows he’s angry at someone that didn’t do anything wrong, he knows that jealousy is bad, he knows that technically he is wrong because he’s been dicking down the girl that he knew his friend liked. He knows all that, alright?!

Jungkook throws his head back and sighs, passing his hand through his hair. A chilling night breeze touches his cheeks; since the inside of the bar was already full and they were too many, everyone decided to sit on the outside part of the bar. Jungkook hasn’t been paying attention to anything anyone around him was saying and neither was he interested. He thought that coming here would make him forget about the things that have been troubling him, but in the end he’s just thinking more about them.

I could excuse myself and go home. He thought. I have a lot of things to do anyway. I wouldn’t be lying.

He feels a hand rest on his shoulder and looks at Jimin, sitting on a chair by his side. The look on Jimin’s face already says everything. Jungkook sometimes thinks that Jimin has telepathic superpowers; how does he always know what’s going on before anyone even says anything?

“You alright?” Jimin asks in a low tone, careful not to call anyone’s attention. The younger one nods.

“Yeah.”

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you drunk?”

“I’m not.” Jungkook reassures. 

Taehyung laughs loudly from across the table and both of them end up looking at him. Jimin looks back at Jungkook. 

Jimin sighs. “You know you can go home if you want to.”

“Yeah.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Just… don’t do anything stupid.”

Jungkook looks at Jimin and sips a bit more of the beer slowly.

“Yeah.”

Jimin smacks his shoulder and goes back to his previous conversation with Hoseok.

How Jimin always seems to know what’s going on… it annoys Jungkook a lot. He wasn’t supposed to know anything. It’s not like Jungkook told him about his feelings, Jimin just… realized. They were doing grocery shopping one day and Jungkook mentioned how last time he went to Walmart you told him that the diarrhea he had wasn’t because he was lactose intolerant but because the yogurt was expired and then Jimin turned around and simply said:

“You like her, right?”

And Jungkook gasped.

Jimin smirked knowingly and just kept pushing the cart. He said nothing else - but it was as if Jungkook had just confessed his deepest feelings right there.

This happened a little bit after Jungkook and Yeri broke up and kind of made him feel offended. How could Jimin say he liked you? He hadn’t even gotten over Yeri, Jimin knew very well. However, it seems that Jimin is not only a telepath, he can also see the future, because he couldn’t be more right.

If Jungkook’s being honest with himself, some months ago he wasn’t really really sure about what he felt about you. As the “Yeri” scar started to heal he got more aware of his own feelings and actions towards you, but it was hard to sort things out because he was always in denial. That desire to hold you close and hug you and take care of you and not let anyone hurt you anymore? Well, that was just his protective side. You have always been one of his dearest people. Jungkook also knew that he had a little possessive side. He was sure that this feeling would eventually vanish.

Maybe he was also frightened because he knew it wasn’t reciprocal. You never even looked at him in a way that might mean you felt something else for him. He wasn’t going to confess something he wasn’t sure of to someone that definitely didn’t feel anything for him and destroy a life-long friendship.

But oh boy, how things have changed.

They changed the moment you hopped on his lap that night inside his car. Jesus, that first week was hell for Jungkook. He was trying so, so hard to forget the messy drunken memories of his night with you - especially because, the moment he woke up and saw the pure face of terror on your face when you realized what just happened, he thought of how much you regretted that and all of his hopes died right there - the hopes that maybe, just maybe, you could be more than friends.

Yet, he got to taste you again. Two times were all it took to get him addicted.

He couldn’t stop anymore - and it hurt him much more than he would like to admit. He felt that he was being used, even though he let you do it (and he enjoyed it every time, not gonna lie). He felt worthless, he felt angry at himself because he couldn’t stop and because you were so, so fucking stupid, so fucking blind, he felt sad because he watched as your friendship started to slowly die down, and now he feels jealous and guilty because he’s been seeing how Taehyung likes you - how Taehyung even asked him advice to ask you out - and he didn’t stop fucking you anyway.

That day at Joy’s house? It was ridiculous. Jungkook still doesn’t understand what the fuck happened to him, why he felt so angry. Perhaps he was finally getting tired of how dumb you are, how you can’t see what’s right in front of your face. 

Just thinking about you hurts now. And Jungkook thinks about you a lot. There he is, surrounded by his friends, where he should be talking and having fun, but he’s too busy thinking about you. In two days he’ll start working for Mr. Choi, his first real job. He should be thinking about it. Not about you.

He can’t stop thinking about your flustered face.

You don’t look flustered that often. Especially not around him. 

He thinks this is very intriguing.

What hurt him the most in all this - the thing that made him feel like a piece of shit more than anything - is that he knows you too damn well and he knew that it was never special to you. To you it was just sex, it was just fun; whenever your lips touched you never felt like you were being swept off your feet like he did, whenever you touched him you didn’t feel like just then, in that moment, everything was right - as if the Universe was only created for that specific moment to happen, as if the Universe was expectantly waiting for the moment his fingers ran on your skin freely since the very beginning.

He never felt like this with anyone else. No other pussy has ever made him feel this poetic. 

The fact that Jungkook knew you didn’t feel the same was exactly why he couldn’t stop; this would be the closest he’d ever be from you in that sense - and honestly, after he tasted you, he didn’t want to go back to stage one. You were like a drug. You brought him comfort, you brought him bliss. Having sex with you became somehow of a escapist method. But, just like every drug, you started to make him feel sick… so sick that he couldn’t stand to be around you when you weren’t fucking. 

He drifted away.

God, he even stupidly tried to move on, but Joy was a foolish try. Jungkook felt bad for using her like this - even though he never even kissed her, he felt that he was fooling her anyway. Going on that date with Joy made everything worse, because he was with that gorgeous, intelligent and lovely girl, but he couldn’t feel anything but fucking empty.

He also realized that you couldn’t be his drug anymore. You deserved much more than that. That’s why he drove all the way to your apartment like a magnet. He preferred to go back to stage one if necessary, if it meant that he could be around you without feeling like a worthless piece of shit anymore.

Of course - things didn’t work out that way.

But that morning- it was different.

Jungkook has to sip more of his beer just thinking about it.

It was different.

It was… quiet, very quiet. Much more quieter than he was used to. And much closer than he ever remembered. 

All the times he had sex with you - his body was being pleased, but his soul felt hurt. This time, though, he felt that his whole self was being healed. You didn’t feel like a drug. You felt like a cure.

As if you were connected in somehow of a deeper way.

As if this time, it wasn’t one-sided on his part.

Jungkook can’t stop thinking about it. His pessimistic side tried to convince him that he was being delusional or dramatic (he has this tendency to overthink anyways) and maybe he was, but, again… you don’t usually act flustered, especially not around him. And you’ve been looking flustered around him for quite some now, even before that morning. Sure, your friendship became uncomfortable at some point and he realized that none of you knew how to act around each other anymore, but still… 

What about that time you saw a picture of Yeri on his computer?

You looked very, very awkward.

Or how you sometimes seemed bothered when Joy was around. You teased him a lot at that pool party. Jungkook knew you could get kinda kinky sometimes (he knew you liked the thrill of possibly being caught), but that felt like too much even for you.

His pessimistic side once again tried to convince him that he was seeing things. You wouldn’t be acting jealous. You were never jealous of him with any girl. Never. You even encouraged him to be with Joy, right?

What if… what if maybe, just maybe…?

Stop getting your hopes too high, his pessimistic side scolded. You look stupid.

I’ve been looking stupid for a goddamn long time, Jungkook thinks back. His pessimistic side looks back at him with disdain.

Jungkook frowns and looks at the bottle of beer on his hand. This is just regular beer, right? He surely isn’t so drunk that he’s already arguing with himself.

I should probably go home.

Or…

He could go to your home.

You wanted to talk to him earlier today. You looked very hesitant - again, very uncharacteristic of you. It felt like it was something important. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind if he knocked on your door unannounced - wait, you never cared. At least when your relationship didn’t involve rough sex. I mean- you didn’t mind not even when you started fucking, to be honest.

Why do I feel so nervous? I’ve never felt nervous over such a stupid thing. I mean, she’s the same dumbass I’ve known my whole life.

You’re probably home doing nothing. That’s also very uncharacteristic of you. Normal you would be at some club or party right now, celebrating the end of the semester. Normal you would probably have tried to drag him along. Or you’d meet some time during the night when you’re both too drunk to be standing and then you’d end up at 5am at the usual Burger King because you’re both hungry, and the Burger King employees would be staring at you both with anger and disgust because you’re both laughing like stupid and talking too loud and they’ve been up all night and can’t stand two drunk costumers this early in the morning.

It sounds nice.

Jungkook remembers that Seulgi and Irene made up, which means that Seulgi most definitely isn’t home.

Which means you positively are home alone.

Home alone, huh.

Jungkook sips more beer. 

This sounds nicer.

But, hey, it’s not like he’s being dirty minded (well, at least not entirely). He really wants to know what you wanted to talk about - and suddenly, he doesn’t feel like waiting until tomorrow. Maybe it’s the alcohol (maybe he really shouldn’t finish this beer), but he wants to see your face a lot right now. Your flustered face. And he kinda feels like holding your face with both hands and kissing you very slowly. And he kinda feels like going very very deep inside of-

You know what? Fuck it.

Jungkook puts the bottle over the table and is ready to get up. His excuse is ready. Nobody’s gonna think it’s strange anyway - Jungkook has actual stuff to do.

But he doesn’t have the chance to move when he notices a person approaching the tables where he’s sat.

He freezes.

It’s you.

You’re looking down at your phone before you lift your head and see the group of familiar faces a few meters away from you. You’re alone.

Jungkook’s heart starts to beat furiously inside his chest. A smile unconsciously increases on his lips. What are you doing here? He didn’t know you’d come. He’s also sure that he didn’t tell you which bar he would come to earlier today. Adrenaline rushes through his veins as a hundred ideas run on his mind in those few seconds; did you feel the need to see him as much as he wanted to see you? Did you have the same idea as him? Were you so eager to see him that you couldn’t wait until tomorrow-?

Your eyes finally cross his.

That’s when Jungkook notices something isn’t right.

You look surprised, then a second later you frown, then you slowly widen your eyes.

He knows you too damn well.

You didn’t know he’d be there, too. You’re surprised to see him. And it looks… it looks like you didn’t want to see Jungkook there.

“Y/N!”

A loud, excited, familiar male voice bursts out.

Jungkook watches frozen in place as Taehyung gets up in a swift movement, holds your face with both hands and kisses you.

Taehyung’s lips are warm against yours. They taste like toothpaste and beer.

The kiss is very brief. Taehyung breaks it alway soon, but still holds your face with his hands. He’s smiling widely.

“You're late, missy!" He says happily.

You're frozen in place.

This isn't happening. 

"I-" you stutter. It seems that your brain went into complete malfunction. "I, uhm…"

Your eyes travel back to Jungkook.

He's just watching. Not moving a muscle. No.

No no no no no no.

This can't be happening.

Jungkook wasn't supposed to be here. You thought- you thought he was going to celebrate with his classmates, you didn't expect Taehyung would be here too. No, no. Just no. 

You see the exact moment his features get as hard as stone. The way he clenches his jaw tight.

You can't breathe.

When you texted Taehyung earlier, you didn’t really like that he told you to meet him at a bar. A bar wasn’t the right place to have this type of conversation - you also felt bad that you’d probably ruin his end-of-semester celebrations - but you agreed anyway because you desperately needed to make things clear with Taehyung before you had that talk with Jungkook. You decided to do this because Jungkook was honest and fair with Joy; you needed to do the same. You left the worst of the impressions when you let Taehyung kiss you that day. You needed to tell him the truth, or else he’d just suffer more - and you couldn’t be a bitch enough to just dump him by text.

But fuck -  you didn’t expect Taehyung would fucking kiss you in front of everyone the moment he saw you!

With the corner of your eye, you see Jimin looking from you to Taehyung to Jungkook very fast, his face going pale as he realizes what just happened. No one else notices that something’s wrong.

Jungkook breaks eye contact with you and gets up from his chair. Jimin looks at him, helpless. You know that expression. He’s angry and- and-

Hurt.

You step away from Taehyung, trying to get control over your body again. It feels like pure frost has filled your veins. “T-Taehyung, I…” Your mouth is very dry again. You clear your throat. “C-Can we talk somewhere else?”

You suddenly hate how oblivious Taehyung is and how touchy he is because it’s clear that he’s moving his arm to hold your hand. What the fuck?! We just kissed once, it’s not like we’re dating!

“Sure. Do you wanna get inside? Wanna get a drink?” He asks with the same happy smile. 

You’re trying to think of something to say, but again, someone else behind him gets your attention.

“You’re going this early, Jungkook?” Hoseok whines, oblivious to the whole situation. Jungkook is putting his backpack over his shoulder. He’s looking down, jaw still very tight. Not a word said - yet you could see exactly how hurt he was. 

“Yeah. I have a lot to do.” He simply says. 

“Aw, come on, man!” Taehyung encourages. “You can stay a little longer!”

If Taehyung was a little less oblivious, he would have noticed the death glare sent in his direction.

“I can’t.”

A shiver crawls over your entire body as the death glare is now directed to you. 

He’s so, so hurt.

Jungkook’s walking away.

Stop! You want to scream. You got it all wrong! Don’t go!

But you don’t have the chance to stop him, and Jungkook doesn’t have the chance to walk away, and Taehyung doesn’t have the chance to understand what’s going on.

Everyone turns their heads when they hear a boisterous, scandalous laughter, and the sound of someone clapping their hands dramatically.

Now you’re sure that your veins are frosted. You shiver again - yet this time, it’s pure fear.

It’s Mike.

A very, very drunk Mike.

He looks the worst you’ve ever seen him; his clothes are a mess, his hair has grown a lot, and he hasn’t been shaving lately. His eyes are widened, red and maniac. He stumbles as he walks closer, everyone on the table - and the people on the tables around - stopping to look as he still claps ironically.

“Oh, look at what we have here!” he’s loud. Very loud. “So interesting!”

You notice that Jungkook isn’t walking away anymore - in fact, he comes back a few steps, standing closer to you. His body language has changed. Jimin has also gotten up; it seems that Taehyung might be starting to understand what’s going on.

“This is the funniest shit I’ve seen in a looooong time,” Mike continues. God, he’s drooling. This isn’t happening. That’s not possible.

You watch as some guys come closer to Mike and recognize them as his friends. One of them holds Mike’s arm. “Come on, man. Don’t start a scene. It’s not worth it.” He says in a rather low voice, but you can still hear it.

Mike gets off his grip aggressively. “What do you mean? Of course it’s worth it!” Mike looks at you and grins like a madman. You feel another shiver run down your spine. “Hello, Y/N! It’s been a long time! How have you been?!”

“Your friend’s right.” Jungkook speaks up. “Get out of here.”

“Ooooooh,” Mike shakes his hands as if pretending to be scared. “Look who’s here, too! It’s the bestie! Jeon Jungkook, the best friend your girlfriend could ever have!”

Pretty much everyone on the outside part of the bar is paying attention to what’s going on. They whisper between themselves, looking at Mike, you and Jungkook. You feel so embarrassed that you might as well faint. You feel that you should have said something already, but your brain is still malfunctioning. 

“Jeon Jungkook, the friend that will want to fuck your girl so bad, but he won’t because he’s a coward!” Mike screams and laughs like a maniac.

Jungkook steps up closer to Mike in a brusque movement, but Jimin’s fast enough to hold him back. At this point, all of his friends have already gotten up from the table, wanting to stop Jungkook from doing anything.

“Shut up, Mike! Let’s go!” Mike’s friends try to stop him as well, trying to drag him away, but even though he’s drunk, he’s still strong enough to stay in place.

“You think I didn’t know, huh, Jungkookie? You think I didn’t know that whenever I was balls deep inside of Y/N you wish it was you? You always wanted to make her scream like a bitch the way I did!”

At this moment, the fear and shame are overwhelmed by anger. Without realizing, you are the one stepping closer, you are the person who Taehyung has to grab the arm in order to stop. “Shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch!” You hear yourself yelling.

People on the tables around have gotten up - the noise of many chairs scraping the floor getting louder than the worried voices of the people trying to get away from this mess. You hear someone - a guard from the bar, maybe - threatening to call the police, but you can’t pay attention to him.

“Oh, but that’s exactly what you are! A whore!” Mike yells back. “You got so sad that I cheated on you, but haven’t you been doing the same to me?! You think I didn’t see you two inside the car that night?!”

That night… in the car…

Did he... ?

You freeze again when you see Mike pointing at Taehyung. 

“Hm, you’re Taehyung, right? Are you dating her now? Well, be aware of her best friend right here, unless you like sharing your girl! But Jungkook likes leftovers, right, Jungk-?”

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

Jimin isn’t strong enough to stop Jungkook from jumping over and landing a punch on Mike’s nose.

There’s yelling and the sound of tables turning as a whole lot of men try to stop the fight and glasses breaking and Jungkook screaming incomprehensible things as he holds Mike’s collar and punches once, twice, three times, and then Mike’s mouth and nose are bleeding, and Jimin, Hoseok and Taehyung are trying to get Jungkook off Mike but it seems that not even the three would be enough to stop him.

You’ve never seen Jungkook so mad. It scares you because Mike is too drunk and can’t defend himself - but you’re not scared for Mike, that fucker can die -, you’re scared of what might happen to Jungkook.

So, when Jimin and the others drag Jungkook away as he still tries to free himself violently, you somehow squeeze yourself between them to hold Jungkook’s arm.

“Jungkook, stop!”

The black-haired man looks at you, his eyes red with rage in a way you’ve never seen before. 

You didn’t notice that, in your despair, your eyes filled with tears. This is probably what makes Jungkook stop for a moment.

“Enough! I called the police! Everyone out of the bar!”

A siren can be heard from far.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here!” Jimin yells.

Another mess as everyone grabs their things and to try and run out of the bar - even the people that weren’t involved. You see that Mike hasn’t fainted as his friends grab him out of the bar in a rush.

Jungkook has to get out of here, it’s the only thing on your mind. Jungkook thinks the same apparently, because he’s quick to take his bag from the floor and jump over the bar’s fence to the sidewalk. You assumed that he didn’t drive his way here because he knew he would drink - which means he had to run.

Your only instinct is to follow him. 

You jump over the fence too, much more clumsily than him. Jungkook is already running down the street. 

As you’re about to follow him, you hear someone call your name.

It’s Taehyung.

He’s standing on the sidewalk as customers run out of the bar. And the look on his face crushes your heart.

I am the worst person in the world.

“Y/N, what he said… is it- is it true?” He asks quietly.

You open your mouth as if to say something, but nothing coherent comes out of it. The guilt rushes with adrenaline through your veins. You knew he would be hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It wasn’t.

“I-I’m sorry, Taehyung,” is the only thing you can stutter.

You don’t see what face he makes next - both because you can’t take it, and because you’re already turning around and running down the street after Jungkook.

Jungkook is the only thing on your mind.

You can’t let him go away like this.

You run through the busy streets full of bars. As usual, they’re crowded with people. Some of them look at you running like crazy when you pass by, but you can’t stop running because you can still hear the sirens.

Jungkook has some damn long legs. He runs much faster than you and doesn’t even look back. You can barely breathe and your stomach hurts as you unsuccessfully try to catch up to him. You keep running and running and running until you’re on less busier streets, until the bars are left behind and now you’re on a more residential part of the neighbourhood. As Jungkook crosses an almost empty square, you decided that your body can’t take it anymore. You stop gradually, feeling your entire body scream in pain.

“Jungk- Jungkook!” you yell. 

The black-haired man finally looks behind his back and sees you; he widens his eyes in surprise and stops. 

“Why are you-?”

He doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence as the sound of the sirens get closer. You immediately start to run again and this time - instead of running in front of you - Jungkook waits until you get closer to grab your hand, forcing you to run faster. You two cross the square and run into a stair alley with houses on both sides. It’s quiet here. Jungkook crouches down behind a big trash bin, making you crouch down as well.

You both make as much silence as possible (considering you’re both panting heavily), both sweating, and wait until the sounds and lights of the police siren go away.

After maybe five minutes Jungkook gets up again, dropping his backpack on the floor. He cleans the sweat on his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt; you rest your hands on your legs, trying to recover your breath. Your stomach hurts as if it has been stabbed. Maybe I should start working out.

You notice that Jungkook’s right hand is hurt; his knuckles are swollen and bleeding a little. He frowns in pain as he analyzes it. “You- you’re hurt.” you stupidly stutter. Jungkook shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.” He says in a low voice. “I said I would beat him up if I saw him…”

Out of instinct you step closer to him, worried, and lift your hands to hold his swollen one.

But Jungkook steps back before you can even touch him. He literally flinched away from you.

It feels like an arrow has just buried itself in your heart.

He’s not looking at you.

“Jungkook-”

“No.” He shakes his head again. He’s breathing heavily as if trying to calm himself down. “Don’t… don’t say anything. Please.”

It’s getting so difficult to breathe. Jungkook puts his hands on each side of his waist, staring at something on the floor - clearly avoiding your pleading gaze.

“But Jungkook, I… you didn’t…” why the hell can’t you speak a coherent sentence anymore? That’s why you followed him all the way. You must make things clear, but seeing his face right now makes you hesitate. Jungkook looks genuinely angry; you’ve never seen him like this, ever.

He throws his head back, looking at the sky, and lets a very dry chuckle past his lips. His expression tells you everything you need to know - he’s tipsy, not entirely drunk.

“You know, I don’t even understand why I’m angry.” You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or to himself. “There was never anything real happening, right? We were never real.”

You feel yourself choking on your own words. What does he mean?

“Jungkook, you have to listen to me. I just wanted to talk to Taehyung-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, Y/N!” He interrupts and finally gazes you back with bloodshot eyes. “We’re fuck buddies, right? It’s just for fun, right? No real feelings involved. It’s not like we’re supposed to care.”

Tears start to make your sight blurred. Each word of his sound more and more bitter, more sad, more hurt, and it feels like someone has buried the arrow in your heart deeper when you realize that his eyes are getting teary, too.

“Stop saying that. You know it’s not true. You’re the person I care about the most in this world-”

“If you start saying how I’m your best friend I’m leaving you right now.”

You frown and blink, trying to dissipate the tears. “B-But it’s true-”

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N! I’m in love with you! Stop acting like you don’t know that already!”

It feels like your brain and your limbs and your lungs stopped working all at once.

Did he… did he just…?

Jungkook exhales heavily. He looks so tired. He rests his back against the wall in front of you, once again avoiding your gaze.

Something tells you that this should have been a happy moment. Deep down, you feel the pure bliss and excitement and it feels like your heart will combust - because you finally heard the words you wanted to hear the most coming directly from his mouth, you finally understood everything; he felt the same, the fucking same.

Yet, all the happiness is being overwhelmed by worry.

You’re watching him intently. You know the man in front of you better than you know yourself. You’ve never seen this expression before - this mix of anger and hurt have never been directed towards you. You’re scared because you don’t know what it implies.

It’s his breaking point.

He might be giving up on you right now.

You don’t know what to say. For a long moment, you just stare at him as he tries to calm himself down - always avoiding your gaze. It seems that words won’t come out of your mouth no matter how hard you try.

“Since when?” is the only thing you can whisper after a long time.

Jungkook shakes his head and lets yet another lifeless chuckle. “I don’t know.” He says in a low, broken voice.

Your fingers are shaking as you close your hands in tight fists. He needs to hear the truth.

“Jungkook.” Yet again, you hesitantly step closer. Your voice is fragile, pleading. “You got it all wrong. Please, you have to listen to me. Today, I-”

“Yeah, I know I got it all wrong from the start.” He interrupts you again. Shut up!, you want to scream. Let me fucking speak!

However, you can’t speak anymore when you notice the tears dripping down his face.

Jungkook is crying.

It’s your fault.

He passes both hands over his face as quickly as the first tears started to fall and sighs heavily. He takes his bag from the floor and shoves it over his shoulder again, turning around before you can see his face again, before you have the chance to say anything.

“I’m going home. You should go home, too.”

And he starts to walk down the stairs way too fast.

Your body is moving before your mind registers and you try to catch up to him. “Jungkook, wait-”

“Don’t.”

Is the only thing he says without looking back.

This makes you stop.

You watch, frozen in place, as he walks down the stairs. You keep your eyes on him as he crosses the empty square again. He’s almost running.

He wants to get away from you as soon as possible.

You know Jungkook too well. You know that, even if you followed him, even if you insisted, he wouldn’t want to hear you anyway. He’d probably despise you even more. This is what made you freeze.

You suddenly feel your legs get weak and sit down on the stair steps. Not only your legs, actually. All of your limbs feel heavy. 

You don’t remember the last time you cried like this. The unstoppable tears just coming and coming and the sobs barely let you breathe. 

You’re crying because you’re ashamed of what just happened at the bar - how Mike made you feel humiliated in front of all those people. You’re guilty because you weren’t honest with Taehyung and now there’s no way back - you let him believe in whatever he wanted to believe instead of making things clear, and now he’s hurt.

And the worst of all.

You’ve been hurting Jungkook so bad for so long without realizing. You hurt the person you cared about the most. 

All of it is your fault.

God, it hurts so much.

You know Jungkook too well. He’s the person that has been always there with you for better or for worse. You always knew you’d have each other’s backs no matter what happens; he’s a part of you, the most important, most precious part of you.

This time, you genuinely don’t know what will happen from now on.

This time... you don’t know if Jungkook will ever forgive you.

[babbushka]

Invitation Only

Bond Villain!Kylo Ren x 007!Reader 

3.5k ; NSFW (69, oral sex (m & f receiving) fingering, come eating, come swallowing, mirror sex, PIV)

Inspired by some prompts requesting masquerade/costume party with BV!K

Available on AO3

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

Sometimes, you can’t help but think as you make your way down the grand staircase, being an agent really does pay off.

It’s shockingly easy to sneak into the party, the ball. Because that’s what it is really, a grand costume ball hosted on Halloween. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to slip through the doors, everyone is wearing masks and therefore could be anyone in the world. By that same token, you could be anyone, and for tonight, you relish in the opportunity to be no one; the opportunity to simply enjoy the party, and try to gain some intel for Mi6. There were no attacks planned tonight, no fights – you didn’t even have any guns on you this evening.

No, you were here simply to mingle with the best of the worst; the most powerful criminals, evil villains and masterminds that the world had to offer.

So it should make sense, that you would run into Kylo.

You knew he would be here, of course. In fact, you had almost been counting on it, you had dressed for it. You knew he’d be here, and you knew that he knew you’d be here too, so you made sure to put on your most elaborate ball gown, hair done up to the nines, and of course a beautifully crafted mask tied around your face. You knew he’d appreciate the effort, and that he’d come find you to tell you just how much.

However, you hadn’t expected him to take his time finding you. You’d been at the costume ball for nearly two hours, a martini glass in one hand and a winning smile the only thing keeping you company as you rejected offers for dances from men and women alike. Kylo wouldn’t have been too pleased with that, you smirk to yourself behind your glass, and you weren’t here to cause a scene.

It’s elegant, the party. Set in one of these rich old men’s rich old homes, a castle atop a hill in the south of Germany proudly hosts nearly three hundred guests. Ornate candelabras and chandeliers are lit with the orange glow of candles, there are servants walking around with silver trays of food and drink, the baroque music is played by a lively orchestra, and henchmen and masters alike enjoy the merriment on the dance floor.

You have relocated to the upper level of the ballroom, one hand skimming along the banister railing that prevents guests from toppling down off the balcony which overlooks the dance floor. Eyes cast downward, you search through the group of beautifully organized dancers, trying to find the handsome villain you have come to adore.

When he comes up silently beside you, you grin.

“Are you aware that this party is invitation only?” Kylo muses, his voice deep.

You do not turn to face him, instead captivated by the way the dancers spin and move around one another, choreographed steps that have you itching to join them. Taking a sip of your martini, you smile.

“Who’s to say that I wasn’t invited?” You counter. The both of you know you weren’t invited, but what did it matter? You were here, you weren’t causing any trouble, there was no cause for alarm.

Kylo grins and puts his hand on the railing close to yours. He’s wearing gloves, the same as you are; but where yours are long satin opera gloves that go up to your elbow, his are short made of cotton, white and pristine.

“Finally decided to see the light and join the better side, have you?” He murmurs, voice low in your ear as he steps a little closer to you. He too casts his gaze down to the view below, approvingly.

“Maybe I have, or maybe I wanted an excuse to dress up, we’ll never know.” You shrug, finally turning to look at him.

“It’s a beautiful costume, but I’d much rather see what you’re hiding underneath it all.” He’s all teeth when he grins at you, sinister and handsome beyond belief.

Getting a good look at him, you rake your eyes over his body. He’s usually formal, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him in casual dress, but tonight he has truly taken it up a notch. He’s wearing a white bowtie along with his top hat and tails, his starched shirt handsomely pressed and near blindingly clean. His mask is nothing more than a thin strip of gauzy black fabric over his eyes, and you raise a brow. It does nothing to conceal his identity, unlike the more traditional masquerade mask that you sport.

“Incorrigible.” You swat his shoulder as you link your arm around his, allowing him to lead you away from the banister and down the stairs. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“I’m the tall dark stranger your parents warned you about.” Kylo replies easily, and you bite back a groan at his lines. Kylo is nothing if not dramatic, after all.

“Sorry, is that supposed to impress me?” You reply sarcastically instead, and Kylo chuckles, a low rumble in his chest that blooms into your side from where you’re holding onto him.

“Did it?” He teases.

“No.” You lie, and he only grins again. You’ve missed that smile, even though you’d never let him know that.

“Then no.” He lies right back, and before you can say anything else, he frowns suddenly. “You haven’t danced with anyone all evening.”

That observation doesn’t surprise you, but you feel the need to give him some grief about it anyway. Kylo leads you through the dance floor, the two of you wandering and meandering through joyous couples on the marble tile, careful not to bump into anyone as they spin and bow and step in time to the music.

“Oh so you’ve been watching this whole time, have you.” A waiter passes you by, and you place your empty martini glass onto the tray as he goes, both your hands free for what you hope will be a fun dance. “I wonder why you didn’t come see me sooner.”

Kylo falters for a moment, and that’s a rare sight to see, the sight of him biting the inside of his cheek with nerves.

“I wasn’t sure that you’d want to see me…our last meeting did not end as well as I always hope.” He replies quietly, and you sigh.

The last time you had seen one another was nearly two months ago, an agency helicopter swooping down to pick you up from a rooftop shootout in Spain. Kylo had been the one shooting at you that time, and you back at him.

“I know you missed on purpose.” You shake your head, “You have better aim than that.”

Seemingly appeased, Kylo stops right in the middle of the dance floor and turns to face you fully. The music ends and everyone turns to applaud the orchestra. That had been a short dance, so they do not take a break, the conductor murmuring to her musicians and telling them of the next piece.

“Dance with me, just one dance.” Kylo bows deeply before you, and offers a hand.

You do not hesitate to take it.

This piece is slower, much slower. It is heavily piano based, as opposed to the lively strings of the previous music, and you can’t help but wonder if Kylo planned it this way. The crowd thins a little as well, those who had tired themselves out while dancing their hearts away retiring to the sidelines for a new crop of villains to take the floor.

Kylo’s hand is on yours, his other tucked behind his back as you both follow along with the dance. Kylo has always been elegant in his own way, in everything he does, and the dancing is no different. In fact, as the strings begin to swell along with the piano, you feel as though you’re the only two people in the entire castle. You look into his eyes through his thin mask, and he stares into yours, and that is it, it is just the two of you.

Candles glow all around you as you and Kylo walk around one another, as he holds your hand and bows to you, as he never keeps his eyes off of you. In the back of your mind, you know that everyone is watching you. You, the mysterious woman who has shown up to this party, dancing with one of the most notorious and dangerous criminals among them. Who were you to have won his attention? Oh, if only they knew.

“You’re very good at this.” You say softly, so that only he can hear.

“I’ve been practicing.” He admits readily, and you let out a little laugh at that, at the image of him roping one of the Knights of Ren into dancing with him again and again. They’re good sports, supportive of their master, you wonder if they’re here tonight on the dance floor elsewhere, showing off the moves they have had to learn.

“Now that does impress me.” You smile, and he beams.

The piece comes to an end a few minutes later, minutes spent gazing lovingly into one another’s eyes, quirked shy smiles and affectionate squeezes of hands. Once again, like with every other time you’re with Kylo, he doesn’t feel like an enemy. You don’t feel like you’re surrounded by people who want to kill you, you feel…accepted, welcomed, warm.

Those are dangerous feelings for an agent to have about her target, but you have them nonetheless.

“Shall we get out of here?” Kylo asks you discreetly as you applaud the orchestra once the music ends.

You nod, having hoped that the evening would take this turn.

 The room he brings you to is lavish, luxurious, gorgeous. It looks as though it’s never been modernized from the time the castle was built, whenever that must have been. A great big canopy bed takes up the majority of the room, red velvet drapes with golden ropes holding them open framing the mattress. You hardly have any time to look at anything else, before Kylo is taking you by the hand and bringing you to it.

You step out of your shoes and follow him, his hands frantically searching for the zipper, the button, the clasps anything that will get you out of these clothes and into his arms, and you laugh fondly at his enthusiasm. He’s so enthusiastic in fact, that he drops down to his knees and crawls underneath your giant skirt, his hands working to unclip your garters, to pull your stockings down, to mouth at your pussy through your underwear.

“Kylo!” You gasp and laugh at how bold he is, “Get up here.”

“Naked, I want you naked. There’s too many layers.” He growls, doing as he’s told. You reach behind yourself for the hidden zipper, and when Kylo finds it too, he gives it a hard yank.

“Don’t you dare rip this dress or I’ll gouge your fucking eyes out.” You snap when the dress protests with a creak, and Kylo only moans.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me baby.” Releasing your dress, his hands instead cup your throat, your cheek, as he kisses you sloppy hot and wet.

You kiss him back, unzipping the gown and letting it fall down your body. You remove your undergarments quickly as he kisses you still, his mouth insistent upon yours, his tongue firm and slick as it slides against your teeth. He’s still fully clothed, and he scowls about it, breaking away to begin shedding clothing of his own.

While he does that, you take the opportunity to climb up onto the bed. It’s massive, it feels like there could be five people fitting easily here, and it is so plush that you sink into it with a pleased hum. A fireplace crackles and snaps across the room, and though you’re naked in this big castle, you’re warm. Even warmer still, when Kylo’s naked body joins you on the mattress and pulls you tight against him.

He’s achingly hard, you can feel his cock brush against your thigh as he kisses you some more, touches you. His hand drifts down between your legs and he dips his fingers into the folds of you pussy, massaging and encouraging your cunt to drip all over him. You reach to do the same for him, but he shakes his head, kisses your jaw.

“Let me eat your pussy, I’ve been thinking about it for months baby, please.” He whispers, and you find that you would rather die than deny him.

“How do you want me?” You reply straight away, and he sucks in a breath, excited, eager, rife with anticipation.

“Sit on my face, right here.” He manhandles you a little until you get the hint, straddling his head, your knees on either side of his ears. He’s got you facing away from him, and hanging up on the wall is a grand ornate mirror in a gilded gold frame. Maybe he doesn’t notice, but you do, as he sighs and licks into you with an, “Attagirl.”

Your pussy throbs around his tongue, his fingers. He keeps two in you, rubbing at the front of your walls, thrusting in and out slowly while he licks and sucks at your cunt. Your nipples stiffen at once, and your hands come up to cup your breasts and give them a squeeze, the sensation going straight to your clit.

“Fuck,” You moan, “Fuck that’s good, Kylo,”

It’d been so long since you’d been pleasured like this, since you’ve had his nose prodding up into you, his fingers curling and crooking inside your body, stretching you, opening you up for what you’re sure will be the fucking of a lifetime when this is done.

You ride his face, hips moving of their own accord, wanting more, seeking more. You stare at your reflection, watch as you rise and lower yourself onto his tongue, how your pussy drools and soaks his chin, how he swallows it down with groans and hums and sighs of his own. You look up, there is a mirror there too, you wonder if Kylo’s able to see himself eating your cunt like this, or if his eyes are shut with pleasure.

“Your dick’s drooling for me.” You manage to sigh, “Let me take care of you Kylo.”

His thighs twitch and his knees bend, hips pushing up at the insinuation. He doesn’t stop licking sucking biting kissing fingering your pussy as you shift yourself forward so you can grasp the shaft of his cock with one hand and wrap your lips around the head that’s oozing pre-come just for you.

“Mmm!” Kylo chokes on your pussy with the first hard suck you give his cock, and you both laugh through it, laughter that turns to moans as he fingers you harder, eats you out faster, a challenge.

You’ve never been one to back down from anything, and you don’t plan on backing down from this. You hollow out your cheeks and work him down down down your throat, until your nose nestles in the thick black patch of hair, your neck bulging out from where you’ve managed to fit nearly all of him.

Bobbing your head, your hands wind around his thighs and stroke at his calves, teasing touches that have him gasping as he buries his face in your pussy.

“Fuck – baby – I’m gonna -- !” Kylo moans and grunts into your pussy as he thrusts his hips up and fucks your throat, wishing he had a hand in your hair to keep your head down, keep you steady.

You pull off him quickly so you don’t choke, just as his come spurts from the head of his cock, landing all over his stomach, the hard firm muscle twitching as you jerk him off, stroking every last drop you can squeeze out.

“God you’re good to me.” Kylo grunts, nearly blacking out when you lean down to lick away some of his come, the flat of your tongue scooping it up off his skin and swallowing it. He smacks your thigh playfully for the effort, makes you whine.

“Fuck it into me,” Your voice is raw, used, but you reach for one of his hands and guide it to the pool of come on his abs. “Make me come on yours, mix it together.”

Kylo does as he’s told, moans into your cunt as he smears his fingers through his own come and pushes them into you, coating your insides with it. He thrusts his fingers hard and fast, until you’re riding his face in earnest to meet his pace, watching through lidded eyes in the mirror as your tits bounce and your body sweats on top of his.

When you come, you drench Kylo’s face, and the slurping sounds that come from his mouth as he swallows you down have you coming even harder, until you’re shaking, thighs trembling, and you have to be moved by him to lay on your side.

“Holy shit I missed this.” You laugh, delirious with bliss, and Kylo only hums in agreement, his cock still hard.

He doesn’t reply, instead shuffling down a little to worry one of your nipples between his lips, his arms wrapping around your middle tight. You sling a leg over his hip and card your fingers through his hair as he kisses and licks at your breasts, the both of you trying to catch you breath, shocks of pleasure rippling through your nerves.

After a while, Kylo’s breathing evens out so much, that you’re not entirely sure he hasn’t fallen asleep with your tits in his mouth. You gently tug on one of his ears and he groans, the kind of groan deep in his chest that only confirms you were right.

“We can’t stay here Kylo, someone will surely find us.” You say regrettably, still very aware of the masquerade ball which continues on downstairs. Music is playing, people are talking and laughing, all of those sounds come seeping back into your consciousness as the post-orgasm glow fades from your mind.  

“If they do I will simply tell them to fuck off.” Kylo only holds you tight, nuzzles his face further into your cleavage.

“I know you think you can do whatever you’d like but really don’t you think that’s in poor taste?” You chuckle, amused, twirling pieces of his long dark hair around your finger and giving them a little playful yank.

“Why should it be? This is my castle.” Kylo suddenly is invigorated, and your eyebrows shoot up as he rolls you over so that you’re lying on your back.

Your legs fall open for him, and he easily works his cock into your stretched and relaxed cunt, pussy giving way to him happily, easily. He doesn’t thrust, just holds himself there, holds himself above you as realization dawns across your face.

“…This is yours?” You blink, wondering how you had never known before, wondering just how many other lairs he had.

“Of course.” Kylo leans down to kiss your throat, your jaw, nibbling at your ear. “I threw this party. I wanted to see you.”

Of all the dramatic, theatrical, over the top schemes! You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head and covering your face with embarrassment that you had fallen for such a thing. Surely he knew by now that he could just call you, he didn’t have to go planning something so elaborate.

But – then again, this was Kylo.

Yes he did.

“I hate you.” You grin, and Kylo only takes the opportunity to start moving his hips in earnest, to start fucking you with that never ending stamina he seems to have whenever you’re around, and you laugh, filled with bliss and pleasure as he corrals your legs around his waist, one pushing up his shoulder to get a deeper angle, making you gasp out, “I hate you so much!”

Kylo only grins right back at you, those crooked teeth wanting nothing more than to dig into your flesh, to leave their marks, their bruises in your skin as your mouth falls open and your back arches into his touch. You’re watching yourself through the mirror on the ceiling, and you think that this is a good look, you spread out on the bed under him.

Kylo can tell you’re thinking too hard, and that won’t do, not for this evening. In the morning you can both deal with the fact that you’ve gathered absolutely no intel, that you’re an agent, that you’re the agent – but for now, for now Kylo kisses you, and smiles against your lips as you moan around his cock, and whispers against your tongue,

“Why don’t you close your eyes and hate me some more?”

And you do, except that you don’t.

In fact, you’re sure that after tonight, you’ll never be able to hate him again.

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 1

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go... 

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2770

Part One: Faced with Foolishness

         “Well, you know Tessa, she’s being Tessa,” Antha murmured into her phone as she watched her twin sister cozy up to her flavor of the month; Tessa flipped her box braids off her shoulder, the beaded ends flirtatiously tinkling against every surface they met. As if watching a photo negative version of herself, Antha mourned her nonexistent reputation. Had she not spent years hiding in her books she may have been able to rival her uninhibited doppelganger in white hot-pants.

��       “Why do you let her do this to you? It never goes as planned, and next thing you know I’ll be cleaning you two up and feeding you McDonald’s at two thirty in the morning!” She didn’t need facetime to picture Doug wincing through the phone, pushing his Buddy Holly styled Ray-Bans up the bridge of his nose.

        “So what you’re saying is how could I let Tessa do this to you?” She laughed, rolling her Havana twists through her fingers to fight off the June humidity. Talking to her best friend helped her forget just how long she had been holding it in line to the bathroom.

         “Ant, look I don’t like that bar—you want me to come get you?”

         “And leave her? I can’t do that—listen, if we don’t call you for a ride home by midnight just come get us. I’m exhausted and I don’t think she will party that long. Besides, you-know-who just showed up.” She watched as Franco the Flake appeared, wasting no time to linger over her sister—Tessa’s flavor of the month, forgotten within an instant. Antha’s eyes rolled like marbles as she turned away to better hear her friend on the phone; some fraternity boys nearby began fist-pumping into the air as the bartender served up a line of shots for them.

         “Ugh, the Flake… well I can hear things are getting started on your end—I’ll keep my phone on me, just don’t drive. Leave her car and I’ll get you two—there’s maniacs out there especially on Friday night.” He warned.

        “I owe you,” she groaned and hung up. Antha finally arrived in the ladies’ room, only two women away from her sweet release. She watched as the women cornered the mirror like crazed wanton things, bending and zhuzhing, adjusting their “girls” to their perkiest potential through scantily low apparel.

        “Heeeyy…” She quietly greeted the woman that exited the nearest stall. The stranger gave her a haughty elevator eye from head to toe making her feel severely underdressed for a Friday night out. When she threw on a sun dress today, she never anticipated her sister would abduct her after class and have them gallivanting across town. Tessa’s exact words were “Godamnit Ant, tonight we’re gonna have fun if it kills us!” A Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she floored the accelerator of her Neon, then cranked up the bass as the radio station started their basement remixes. Fun if it kills us.

        Antha stared at her white sandals, her nail polish was chipped and at least three weeks old. Then she looked to her messenger bag hanging on the back of the door. It was covered in Community College film badges and club stickers, per her friend’s preferences. Antha liked her graffitied messenger bag. Like a billboard, it made her appear she had a life outside of her graduate studies.

        She should have been at home, text books spread on her lap, feet up. She could hear Doug’s old Buick coughing its way up Momma’s drive, then fumbling outside the door, trying to knock with a third of Popov, case of Dogfish Head, and pizza in his arms. Then he would throw everything on the coffee table and announce “I brought Casablanca!” to which she would say “Oh, more white people movies?” and unphased, he would reply “Good god woman, it’s not Birth of a Nation!” Antha smiled, thinking of their weekly ritual of pretending to do research while gossiping long into the night until Zoey and Tessa would drunkenly Uber home. The distinct shamble, like the walking dead, would scrape up the gravel drive signaling their arrival.

        “Hey, you almost done in there?” An annoyed voice yelled over the door, cutting through her reminiscing. Antha could see the reds of the stranger’s eyes between the door crack.

         Instead of lounging on the couch surrounded by good beer and even better friends, Antha found herself being hustled by some Fireball-turned-up twat—all under the guise of having fun. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She replied and flushed. She tightened the belt holding in the billowy fabric of her flowy, mid-thigh, sunflower-printed sundress. It was passed down from her grandmother to her mother and so on. Looking like she walked off the set of a 90’s music video, she admitted that at least she was cooler than the other girls sweating in their skin-tight jeans and heels.

        Some pretty young thing burst through the door past the line and vomited into the trash bin next to Antha while she washed her hands. It was only nine o’clock. That was a bad omen. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she realized she pouted just like Momma in those sorts of situations. She dampened a paper towel for the poor thing and could hear her mother’s words repeating in her head: “When you’re faced with foolishness—you take care of it.” Her mantra: Take care of it. Antha’s mantra: Do what Momma says. Tessa’s mantra: If it ain’t fun don’t do it.

        Antha applied her vanilla lip gloss as she thought on her mother. She made a promise as Momma was lowered in the ground that they would graduate. It was her dying wish that the twins became modern women with college degrees and to have options; to escape the laboring of farming and perhaps even the rinse and repeat of corporate Delaware. That’s all there was in their state: Farming or banking.

        She tucked her shoulder-length braids behind her ears; she truly missed her dreadlocks, but ever since the time Tessa’s boyfriend mistook her for his girlfriend, she cut them off. She was always the one to compromise. Not tonight she decided. Tonight was going to go her way. They would wrap up this foolishness by midnight.

        Antha sighed and knew it was time to face the havoc of the bar when a chatty patron pawed at her sundress asking if it was “vintage”. She replied, “Well it’s old as hell if that’s what you mean,” and hurried out the ladies’ room into the sweltering cacophony of nightlife.

        Fighting across sticky tile and sweaty rednecks she made a beeline for the bartender. “Mar, can I get two?” She bounced on her tip-toes to cut through the crowd huddled around the length of the tacky wooden bar. Maria motioned to the other side because she couldn’t reach through. Antha continued to fight her way through the herd. She could barely hear over the din of the 2016 campaign commercials and sportscasting when Maria slid two cocktails toward her. The southern comfort and coke cocktails reeked with vanilla syrup, Tessa’s favorite. Antha stared into the melting rail drinks and realized she didn’t know what to order herself because she was always the water-boy for her twin.

        “Hey, did you see what’s-his-face is in town?” Maria interrupted her thoughts.

        “Sure did.” She groused and tilted her head in the general direction of where she saw Tessa and Franco last. Through the bodies, for a moment, the crowd parted and the two stared.

        Stepping back from her esteemed role as the older sister, by barely two minutes, Antha admitted to herself that Tessa always looked good. Her off-the-shoulder top exposed a flawless ebony collarbone, shoulder blades, and arms. As if she was the Queen of Sheba incarnate, her tiny wrists were decorated with gold bangles. Her earrings matched the beads in her hair, reflecting light in her hazel eyes. A waterfall of thick box braids fell down her back and over her shoulders, past the tops of her thighs. Her years of dance complimented the country-chic white cut-offs that revealed just a hint of under cheek when she bent across the billiard table.

        “If I were a man, I’d pray for her to bite my head off quick and painless.” Maria laughed, her ponytail frizzing from the heat of her work; her hands rapidly dipping then shining high ball glasses.

        “But that’s not her style.” Antha replied wryly.

        “You’re both good girls. Now you keep her out of as much trouble as you can—I’ll send Kyle ‘round to your table with beers, just let me catch up here!”

        Maria was right: they were good girls. All of Tessa’s shenanigans aside, she never forgot cake for a birthday and with everyone’s break-ups she always had a bottle of Jack stashed with a shoulder to cry on. Tessa was the one that painted Antha’s nails and always lent her the best outfits when the event called for it. On occasion she was even known to deliver soup when her sister ran a fever.

        Tessa was the heart of the operation and Antha couldn’t begrudge her just because she was the head.

        For better or worse, they were sisters.

        Antha reluctantly clutched the chilled drinks and felt a pang of relief in the sweltering bar. She couldn’t see her sister at the billiard table with the onslaught of shuffling patrons, so she decided to move toward her booth. She narrowly missed being covered in appletini as the DJ scratched in one more summer top ten into his rotation. Before she could move forward a voice pinned her in place.

        “Your sister’s the worst, you know that?” A nice-looking guy glared at her. His teeth gleamed pink in the red bar lights. Antha bet he had a handsome smile on account of those white teeth, but he was not smiling now. She squinted through the hazy dance floor and recognized him as the guy Tessa arrived with before Franco appeared.

         “Hey John, don’t fret, Tessa’s just catching up with an old friend—he comes into town every so often, don’t get upset.” She yelled back at his face as kindly as she could manage over the blare of the oncoming band tuning their instruments. For some reason he didn’t seem to believe her and his chest instinctively puffed up.

        “John? I’m José!” He replied. Antha felt embarrassed for both her sister and herself. She grimaced unintentionally, realizing she had said it all with very few words.

        She tried to defend their position with a weak excuse. “José, I’m bad with names and faces—” but he stormed off before she could piecemeal a string of bullshit. There goes another Mr. Last Month.

        This was having fun. Antha doing damage control on last month’s flame, while Tessa stoked a new one. All of the nice memories of her sister evaporated in the heat of the interaction. She grumbled to herself, as she had grown tired of babysitting, not just Tessa but the men-children she dated. When she finally confirmed her party’s booth, she parted the shadowy sea of basic bitches.

        Tessa was giggling like a school girl when her sister dropped the sweaty glasses onto the ratty old table. Franco at her neck like a leech. I hate this guy, Antha thought to herself. He turned his hot gaze on her, “Hi Antha, didn’t see you there.” His drawl was thick like humidity. She thought about giving her drink to Tessa’s date, but now that she could see he was it, she plopped down and selfishly sipped one of the nasty cocktails without offering the second.

        “Oh hey Brian,” she said playfully, “where’s your camera?”

        “Ant, now you know this is Franco, stop playin’!” Tessa tore her eyes away from him for a split second, but after she threw her daggers she was back ogling him like a dog does a bone.

        “Sorry, it’s hard to keep all these blue-eyed, blond, gentlemen straight.” Antha marginally resisted saying yokel under her breath.

        Tessa had a type. Beyond all logic, light eyes were the buckle in her knee, the hitch in her breath; and Franco was at the top of her list. Antha assumed he was the Porsche in her garage amongst a long list of Ford’s, but she honestly didn’t know the whole story. All she knew was that Franco showed his face sparingly and only after dark. He would disappear for weeks at a time, which earned him the endearment The Flake.

        Now, Antha hadn’t dated enough men in her young life to sort them by color and size, but Tessa had. To her credit, her tastes were diverse, she did her research and knew what she liked. No one blamed her either. With that hair and those legs, Tessa could have anyone she wanted. The great appeal of Franco didn’t add up to Antha though. She found him suspicious. She thought his truck was too loud, his jeans too torn, and his eyes much too heavy.

        Franco made idle conversation, inquiring after the twins’ classes as if he cared. His blond, three-quarter parted hair was glossy under the dim lights. When he pulled his tooth pick from the back of his ear and chewed on it, it made him look like an old-fashioned mobster—well until that Delmar twang spilled out of his hillbilly mouth. There was an allure about him; all of his parts matched, but his smile unglued those pieces. A smile that never quite reached his eyes.

        Antha found herself sizing him up, drinking the disgusting cocktail faster than she wanted. I bet he has plastic zip ties and rope in his truck bed, she thought. She didn’t truly know why the image popped into her mind, it was just a feeling she got when his eyes were on her; made her feel like a snack, as if he would eat her alive right where she sat. No more Unsolved Mysteries for me this week, she insisted to herself.

        “Mmmm-hmmm.” Was the best response she could offer when he spoke to her directly. Tessa continued chatted about her business management courses as he deeply stared at her. Antha figured there was no real room for her in the conversation so she took out her world cultures text and flipped to her last page. She liked hanging out, however her final thesis was demanding all of her energy. The page fell open to vampires in the section of Egyptian mythology. She thought how ironic as her eyes shot up at the man sitting across from her.

        “So, there’s this bonfire by Slaughter Bay, I thought you ladies could come with.” Franco suggested lazily like it was too exclusive to be excited about. “You can shotgun babe and we can put Antha and her friends in back.” He eyed the textbooks growing damp on the table. Antha finished the first SoCo and started the second just to cope with him. “You could call up the girls.”

        “Zoey… Zoey... Zoey!” Tessa dramatically said into her drink and then laughed. Antha couldn’t help but smirk as Tessa explained to him her girlfriend was like Candyman and could be summoned via a pint of beer. The joke was partially lost on Franco.

        Before Tessa could agree to go Antha piped up, a little less shy now that her liquid courage had kicked in. “Sounds awfully romantic, but we can’t.” Before she could continue she was interrupted.

        “Hey girl haaayyyy!” Zoey appeared as if out of thin air and snatched one of the beers sent over by the bartender. “You goin’ nowhere without me—not after I Ubered across town!” Her two rando friends hollering and sloshing their drinks.

        “How the hell do you do that?” Antha insisted, amazed that their friend appeared.

        “Uhhhh, never you mind—we can make bonfire plans later—its ten o’clock, I’m here and Bieber is playing! GET UP!” Zoey declared, the glitter from her eyes dusting every surface.

        “Keep an eye on my friends.” Antha told Franco as she abandoned her books to be dragged to the floor. This was the moment she decided she was getting them all out of there; she didn’t like the sound of a bonfire with him and she certainly wasn’t allowing Tessa to go on her own either. She sent a pre-written text message to Doug: “Get here.” Which was their code for its really going down, I need back up.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @plastic-heart @myraiswack @wolfpawn​

[shuckle24]

Too Little, Too Late

Eve felt alone. So utterly, irremediably alone.

Everyone was there. All her family, all her friends, even her teachers were there. All of them were gathered around the little communal hall. Drinking. Laughing. Dancing. Celebrating. They were having the time of their lives. Why shouldn’t they? It was Christmas eve and the first snowflakes since 2028 were falling from the deep black sky, black as an abyss. Black as the abyss in Eve’s heart.

They had dubbed this party The Reunion. And ‘it wasn’t just a reunion of friends but of humanities hope and some other jargon.’ The past decade has been… difficult. Much like World War Z but without the zombies.

Now, the world was finally getting itself together. Yesterday Joey’s flimsy old last century TV got a faint signal and a single, glitching image played out on the square screen.

STAY TUNED. 5:00 PM IST. IMPORTANT BROADCAST.

Naturally, they stayed glued to the screen for hours until the screen dissolved and a shaky scene played out.

The inside of the White House, newly renovated but looking eerily the same. It was comforting somehow, almost mesmerizing, the sameness. It had been stripped of almost everything at the end of the First Year. By the middle of the Third it had been reduced to rubble. But here it was again. Whole and standing.

The walls were milky white, broken only by the plain gold frames bearing the portraits of long dead presidents and a single fake window. The floor was marble, though not of the best quality, and lined with plush red carpets. The furniture was sparse but extravagant: shiny mahogany wood sofas, divans, and tea-tables (probably fake but hey at least it looked real) with creamy white cushions, stylish modern design, and runners as red and plush as the carpet on the floor.

In the very middle was a long ornate table, probably the most expensive item in the room, on which the camera was focused. It had twelve steady and patterned legs of oak, rounded edges and an overall glossy polish; all overlaid with a thick dark-blue tablecloth featuring the mighty bald eagle at its core.

It wasn't even close to the White House in its glory days, but now, after everything else has been reduced to ashes, it’s probably the most elegant room in what remains of the world.

About fifteen well dressed men and women were gathered around the table chatting lightly and sorting out important looking docume-

The screen glitched out. Joey fiddled with the antennas on top of the TV set. The image cleared again.

The chatter around the White House table died down. One by one, all the fifteen presidents (they were all presidents, prime ministers, and government bigshots you could tell without looking) faced the camera. The rickety old TV didn’t have any sound, but thankfully there were subtitles.

"The governments of New America, Britain, Germany, Russia, France, New subcontinent of India, China, Japan, North Federation of Africa, Australia, Italy, Canada, South Korea, United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia have declared their governments stable." announced a bald headed man with a deep, V-shaped scar on his left cheek.

Everyone cheers. Even Eve cheers.

"The world has gone through a lot, but once again we stand on our feet. The fifteen stable countries will freely welcome all survivors wanting to take refuge there."

More cheering. Joey was dancing.

"We the-"

Glitching. Groans all around. Antenna adjusting. Running to find a radio.

Eve crept away. There were now fifteen countries with stable governments, possibly with functioning militia. That was all she needed to know.

The world had gone through a lot and there hadn’t been any magical cure or vaccine like in the movies. But after eleven long years, it was finally piecing itself back together.

A glass tinkled nearby. Professor Acel.

“Hello girl,” he drawled in his usual drawl. Eve cringed away. She’d never felt comfortable around him.

Sensing her recoil, he moved away.

Eve fell back to her musings. The world might have pieced itself back together but she was broken beyond all healing. She couldn’t believe that just one week ago she had held Zack in her arms. Zack, her younger brother. Zack, the one thing she loved in this bloody, flea-bitten world.

Then, merely four days later, she held him again, but this time his hands were cold- oh, so cold- and his Teen Titans T-shirt had been reduced to rags and was glued to his bluing skin. His eyes, once so bright and full of life, had been pecked out by a raven. His lips were swollen, wormlike.

She had held his bloody, literally bloody, head in her hands, and all his wet, slimy hair just... just. Just came off in her hands in thin, gooey clumps. Eve had screamed then. She had shrieked.

Eve ran. She almost flung away his head and ran. She felt bad about it, she hadn’t meant to just leave his body out there in the open but she couldn't she just couldn't stay it was too much THERE WAS SOMETHING MOVING IN HIS MOUTH FOR GOD’S SAKE.

A salty teardrop rolled down Eve’s pale cheeks.

Behind her, ‘The Reunion’ rolled on. Everyone was on the stage, dancing and merrymaking. No one was in mourning. Not even her parents. No one but her. No one cared.

All they cared about was the fabled ‘future’. Oh, that golden era waiting just for them where the past couldn’t hurt them. Where the dead didn’t matter and old losses just washed away.

No. She couldn’t live in a world like that. A world without him. What else did she have left? Nothing. No one. No one but handsy teachers, distant friends, and an estranged family.

She took the pills from her pocket. She had debated it long in her head, but she’d always known the outcome. Part of her had always known. The part of her that died along with Zack. She dropped three pills into her rum and coke and gulped it down without hesitation.

The world around her started to fade almost instantly. The tiny Christmas lights along the ceiling’s edges became glowing multicolored mists. The people around her shattered into nothingness. White, flowy curtains materialized on the walls. Against those shining white curtains on the farthest wall an outline focused into view. The well-defined silhouette of her beloved brother. Reaching for her. Getting close. Oh, so close.

A burning feeling of bliss spread around Eve’s chest. Smiling softly, she reached out for him. He reached out as well. Their fingers almost touched.

The floor jerked. A grayish spotlight fell on Eve. Suddenly the gap between her and her brother seemed lightyears wide, impossible to bridge.

Without warning, Eve was flung upwards at unimaginable speed.

She had but a moment to express her surprise. Just milliseconds to contort her facial muscles to agape astonishment. Then the darkness closed in.

[arcencieldoux]

don’t take my shit please

Budapest, Hungary, Saturday May 19th, 2015    

Glasses clinked as chuckles among the wealthy guests are heard over the piano that’s being played lightly by a small band in the corner of the open hall. Louis feels the jacket to his middle-upper-class suit shift as he reaches for his flute of champaign. He is sat at an extended table where food expanded across it in colourful mounds. A banquet for guests.

It was a place with promised grandeur, perhaps an overshot if they were going for a pristine essence, for an auction, but at the prices things would sell for, it was understandable. Walls were trimmed with gold frames and velvet drapes hang from the domed ceiling, which was painted with tunicked Greek gods. The entire left wall was decked by a bar Louis was surely thinking about visiting later.

The room full of elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen completes the aura of an antique, million-dollar auction that many guests, most of whom have come internationally, mingle and talk. It was the beginning of an auction in Hungary, in a beautiful building. Everyone was just arriving, but envy was still present, masked by a pretence of politeness.

You could see it with the small glances to a conversing group at the other side of the room, where one of the rich people would side-eye them with a look of pure envy and rage, and the tight-lipped smile they gave out. A lot of the guests were like this. But in the end, they were all eagles there to ravage an animal. Every-man-for-himself and all that.

There were the rare ones, where smiles shared between two friends who lost touch were genuine.

All of that, even the simple way they held their flutes of bubbling champagne, is observed and copied by Louis. He knows if he's supposed to be one of them, rich and wasting millions of dollars on a flowerpot, he'd have to act perfectly.

Louis has been at this event for a half hour, chatting up all different types of guests, and acting like a scored man who has more money than he should.

Currently, he excuses himself from the banquet, and takes up that thought on the bar. The bartender comes up to him, but Louis waves him away.

Maybe it’s his uncaring expression, or the suit, but people start to take a notice of him. One even approaches him. It’s a man, with almost zero lip, the hard line to his jaw pudged with age. He has a boring white flower design embroidered on his breast pocket.

“Hello, my name is Francis Boul de Sav,” the man introduces.

Louis smiles politely. They shake hands. “Pleasure meeting you, Francis. Can I call you Francis?”

“Oh yes, that’s alright.”

“I’m Louis Thompson. I love your embroidered flower, by the way. Trillium, is it?”

For ten minutes, he talks with Francis Boul de Sav, who had an interesting story to tell about his botanist daughter, who'd urged her father to come, even though he was reluctant at first. That would explain the flower.

Louis pays enough attention, so should the people he talked to ask for his opinion, he wouldn't be unaware. But he is ignorant enough of their words to focus on his target: Matthew Morrison, an American buyer, supposed to arrive here with his wife Golana Morrison.  

His eyes station themselves at the front entrance where people in fine clothing and jewelry that just screamed "rich" are coming in, in with partners, and solo. They cascade onto the marble flecked floors in a flow.  

There has been no sign of Mr. Morrison yet.  

Louis keeps himself at low-profile, though. There are enemies everywhere, and one slip of who he was could blow up his mission. Quite literally. Take the agent in the room, for example.  

He is not stupid. Agents were sent to take him down all the time, every day, and he is used to it. This one would be no different, just like the rest. Maybe the next could be a she? Louis wishes wistfully the one sent to kill him after this one would be female. Just so he could know that modern society is slightly better than it was before of their pictures of women.  

He grins at that thought, despite how disturbing it may be.

At that moment, Golana Morrison comes through the doors. She's a taller lady, with dusty brown hair streaked with natural highlights, pulled into a composed bun at the back. Her tanned skin revealed that she and her husband live in California valley, something Louis already knows. She laughs at something another woman guest was saying in a contained manner.

Louis scans the area surrounding Mrs. Morrison. There is no man with her.  

Louis has always been good at multi-tasking. It's why he excelled in this part of his profession. Not only was he carefully watching the entrance, but in the corner of his eye, he monitored the agent. He can tell he wasn't just another guest. The way he moved, didn't interact, kept a safe yet visual distance between him. It was practiced and thought-out.

It was something about that. Something about the way he watched Louis. It wasn't normal. It wasn't just the slip of the eyes. It's the look a Jaguar had, while it covertly hunts its prey. It's the one police had while undercover. It's the one of another agent sent to detain him.  

A woman with pale skin, curled hair and few freckles talks to Louis. Social skills were an important thing, and Louis could be a master at that if he wanted. Instead, he got lost in his current state of mind.

He knew how much the agent was worth. Or, he could guess, with only one look. The way he held himself, how he moved through the crowd, how he smiled at ones who looked his way.    

But he's been in situations like these before, an agent sent to get him while he was on a mission (sometimes not on a mission) that from the moment he saw the agent he shrugged it off, finding that the agent who thought he could differ from all the others was impractical.

If only he knew the number count of agents, spies, governments. Maybe then he'd change his mind and leave Louis be.  

A staff caught his attention as they stepped up onto the stage at the front where the auction was yet to be held. His hair was black and slicked back, in a French stereotypical way, and wore a suit with golden buttons to match the theme of the event. He tapped the microphone. The chattering among the buyers quietens, and they turn their attention to him.

"Ladies and gents, before we continue our auction event, we've invited a band to play for you to dance to with your partner, and those of you who wish to dance, and to simply enjoy. The room is yours," He says with a slight bow. His accent is most certainly French, and the 'R's roll right off his tongue. "The auction will commence in 30 minutes. We have a bar, and of course, a buffet with plenty of foods for you to eat. Thank you and enjoy." Then he bows again and walks offstage, and a lovely melody picks up with the band.  

Get them all drunk so they will burn their money later. It is obviously part of the reason there is a bar, other than it's mature and shows how much money the building has to host the auction.

Of course, the lady he had been talking with notices his small smirk, and mistakes it for a smile. But Louis wasn't, and was barely even listening, and was about to excuse himself when the lady blurts out: "Dance with me?" She flushes immediately. An outburst like that apposed lady-like behaviour that Louis never cared for nor dwelled upon.  

Louis kindly declines. After she leaves he orders water with ice, thinking why not? He inspects it and sniffs it, then deems it drinkable. Before he could take a sip, a light finger touches his arm

"I'd make sure it's safe to drink first and not drugged. Don't want you getting hurt."  

He was very sure that the agent disagrees with his statement

Instead of fawning over him or acting tough like he usually did with men to fool them — depending on what side of the coin Louis thought they were —, he took a sip and put the glass back down. He wouldn't hide his act of innocence with this one, sometimes it just got tiring. And it was a bold decision of the agents to approach him this soon, even if it had been an hour already. So, Louis made a bold choice too.  

He looks at the person. He's relatively stunning. "I think I'll manage," he says.

A slow grin spreads across his face, kind of boyish charm. He holds out a hand.  

"Harry."  

Louis simply took another sip. The hand drops. Louis stands, smoothing down the front of his suit. "I know." Then quietly, so no one else heard him, he adds, "agent." He'll research him later.  

"You're Louis," says Harry, "A darling of The Circus, criminal..." Louis bristles at the word, but he makes no comment on it.  "Legally not a person, by the way," Harry adds. "You weren't that difficult to find, but I'm sure you'll make up for it with bringing a challenge when you leave with me."

"I won't be leaving with you anytime soon," he answers with what was almost a sneer.  

"You realize that I know a lot about you, right? Enough for you to know your place."

At that, Louis' breath catches. He panics momentarily, but it's fleeting, and he reconstructs his composure. There is no possible way for him, for anyone, to know a lot about him. There are barely any records of him anywhere. "Now what makes you think I would do anything you asked for?" Louis says contemptuously.

Harry offers him a card, a business card with a navy blue theme and an official vibe to it. It’s plain except for a circular black emblem, difficult to see because of how dark the navy blue is. It has a bird-figure in the circle's ring. He stares at where it was between Harry's two fingers, then back to Harry's eyes. Harry raises his eyebrows, waiting for Louis to take it.  

"You will eventually."

"You can't be serious," Louis says.  

"I am one hundred percent serious."  

"I thought you were an agent, not an advertiser."  

Harry put it on the mahogany bar, tapping his index finger with it once. "Just take it."  

Louis accedes. He leaves his seat at the bar, making sure the agent understood he was that confident in his abilities that he turned his back to him. He waited for the beginning of the auction, where he would finish his mission.

He went to find Golana. She wasn't the mission, but her husband was. And he had a plan.

He walks up to her, chatting with another guest. The other one notices him first, Golana’s back to him. Louis comes closer, a set smile on his mouth. The woman stops talking, Golana turning to see who the guest was looking at. Mrs. Morrison was the same height as Louis, but her bone structure was quite narrow. She definitely seemed like the type of person to own vanilla citrus candles and have fruit salads as a snack.

Still at the bar, the agent is watching Louis meet Mrs. Morrison. He sees Louis with a grin and talks for a minute with Mrs. Morrison and the other woman, who has jet black hair, dress, heels and eyes, but a kind face. He watches as the darling he has been sent after makes his way onto the dance floor with Mrs. Morrison.

The tune is slow, yet not too slow, so Louis doesn't have to stand too close to the woman as they dance. She quickly agrees after he did a job of eyeing her with patient, irresistible blue eyes, which he found disgusting. People's standards have decreased to practically nothing, and would cave after a look. Not to mention... Golana probably doesn't love her husband as much as she should, if she's so eager to dance with a younger lad. But she was talking to him and he was about to earn another mission point.  

He was never told exactly why his targets were certain people, most of the time something vague, like they didn't pay back full price or an artifact was wanted and, in those cases, he'd just threaten and 'encourage' them to choke up some more to give back to The Circus. And he obeyed, because the alternative was a loss of the only sense of home. Plus, there was an unspoken reaction that may involve a bit of torture, but.

So every illegal thing Louis did to or for people it was not because he liked it, but because he had to. It was them or him, and he preferred him.

Flashing colours pass by his eyes. It's all headache-worthy, but Louis stays strong.

The ballroom is like bottles of all the royal colours spilled onto a canvas, the different paints forming one picture. Maybe people find him attractive, he'll never know. As soon as they get a glimpse of Louis, the memory of him dissipated, and he is forgotten about seconds later. After all, this was an event concerning money and valuable purchase, not just one pretty face in a crowd.  

Louis dances with the woman as Harry, the open-plan agent joins the floor and asks a lady to dance, and since this was a switch-partner type of dance, she agrees.

For two whole minutes Louis talks with Golana Morrison, prying kindly for information, and to pass the time. While she speaks about when she almost got hit by a car one time, Louis calculates the time in his head until it would be appropriate for him to slip away and find the actual man he was looking for, then bring him into a restroom where he'd be threatened by the many knives hidden in various places around his outfit.  

Louis always comes prepared. Guns are way too loud for such a public event, anyway.

And if that means dancing with Mrs. Morrison (who was terribly kind, remorsefully so) for two minutes while secretly keeping an eye on the one he was really hunting to throw the agent off his rhythm and to fool him, it is what he'd do.  

Louis tries to focus again on the wife, fixing his smile with pink lips that made his blue eyes look less dangerous.

He suddenly twirls her, but like always, she was prepared, and went with it without a stumble. Before she could spin back to Louis, there was one with red hair already there, who caught Louis and tried to make conversation right off the bat.  

"You look familiar. Have I seen you before?"

The tune was picking up, going faster. The new woman who was maybe in her 30s kept pace with it, twirling under him before he could reply. Her red dress skirted outwards in the spin. Before Louis could frown at the sudden change in partner, he got caught not by another woman, but with none other than the agent.

Harry had one hand on his shoulder and one in his hand, and Louis put one of his own on his waist, looking up at his face. Harry's flush lips, hinting at possible lip gloss or balm of sorts, curved into a smile.

"Finally," he said.

Louis just sighs through his nose and flicked his eyes away from Harry's face and searches the crowd. Sustained eye-contact is not a biggie with Louis. Unless necessary, he likes to avoid it.  

"I thought a lovely face like mine would improve your mood, not lessen it."

It was odd for an agent to be so communal with Louis—unusual, but odd. It made Louis wonder what Harry was doing, and what his plan was—if he even had any.

Reluctantly, Louis drags his eyes to Harry's.

"Is this even legal?" Louis asks.  

The agent chuckles lightly. "Probably not. Not in this country." Yet he kept dancing with him. "You look splendid tonight, absolutely enchanting."

Louis doesn't find his tone funny, so he ignores him.  

With his eyes near the agents' neck, he sees a silver chain peeking out from the collar of his vest. Louis frowns at it for a moment.  

"Your eyes. Sparkle," Harry says just as monotonous.

"Suit is a nice black."  

Louis' jaw clenches. He steels his eyes to the wall behind Harry's long hair. It’s cream with gold trim, and a scene painting hung in the middle with a burgundy inner-frame.  

Then, "are you frequently this verbally inactive or just shy?" is whispered beside his ear.

If it weren't for the fact that the two of them were practically on different poles of the earth in terms of society positions, Louis might have cracked a grin, possibly even a chuckle. Instead, he kept his voice firm and responsive, far away from any amusement. "In my life, I've had loads of agents after me, sometimes multiple at once. Never, though, has one been as irritating and foolish as you."  

Which was the truth, and at least deserved a point to Louis if this were an insult contest.  

"I’m honoured."

“Yeah, you shouldn’t be. Who do you work for? Or, what, do you work for?”

Before anyone could say something else, the music switches, catching both Louis and the agent’s attention. Around him, partners were dispersing to the sides of the marble room. It became clear why when the same slick-back French man announced that the auction would begin in five minutes.  

Detaching himself from the agent’s arms, Louis went to an open arch of white stone that was basically an entrance hole in a wall, except with a purpose. It opened up to another room full of tables, with four seats per each. There were many people already in there, taking their seats, and chatting among their companions. Louis found a seat for himself and sat down. The agent was right behind him.

Tensely, Louis took a brochure from where his plate would usually be. He pretends to read it, slowly. Meanwhile, he was getting more anxious by the second. How was he supposed to finish his mission when the agent was looking over his shoulder all the time — literally.  

"Is it interesting?" Harry asks, his eyes trying to peer over Louis' shoulder. If it weren't for the situation, it might have sounded like an honest question; it was sarcastic.

"I find it entertaining," Louis replies.  

"I guess it could be 'entertaining'." Harry sighed, moving his legs under the table. "Especially if you're trying to ignore someone." Out of Louis' peripheral vision, he saw Harry look around the room.  

How was he so calm? Why was he so calm? It brought back what Louis thought earlier: an agent, hit man, whoever was after Louis always stalked from a distance, plotted then struck, yet failed. What Harry was doing was an entirely fresh approach for Louis, which could forth-come some problems. New was bad. It's better to stick to pre-mutual knowledge.

He tried to take advantage of the situation. Gain something out of uncertainty. "Who do you work for?" He asks in a confabulated manor. "FBI? The Avengers?" Louis flips a page. There was a picture of a glass egg. "Interpol?"  

"Interpol works for the government, you know."

Louis sets his brochure down with precise movements, back straight like his spine was a rod. "I know. I just wanted to name three examples. Sounds better, doesn’t it?”

"Well, I don't work for any of those," Harry says. “I'm under a separate organization. Not run by the government."  

"It's an NGO?"

"Correct."  

This was unreliable information. What was the size of this NGO? Were they large enough to hunt Louis for a sustained amount of time? Could they be associated with those superheroes in New York? Well, if that were the case, they were probably government run. Or was Harry lying? If Harry worked under the government, at least Louis would know a precipice of their plan, and measures they may take. Interpol strategies were predictable enough. An organization working beyond the government and their regulations was different.

Louis blinks hard. He's trying to refocus. Eye on the game, shoot bullet to the target. What's his target? Mr. Morrison, also known as the very rich and frankly a bland man.  

He clears his throat. The room had suddenly filled with guests, and was buzzing low from everyone's talking. A woman laughed somewhere in the room. The room was almost full, and Louis had yet to find Mr. Morrison.

"So you're an adherent to an 'NGO' cult, then?" Louis says mannerly. Caught off-guard, Harry's face lit up with a smile that even touched his eyes. Louis refused to acknowledge the reaction.  

"No, I'm not in a cult. Although would you like to hear a funny thing?"

Louis actually couldn't believe this man. His face must look doubtful and judgmental and when he says "Why are you even here?", He said it incredulously, because why was an agent socializing with Louis.  

"I thought we premised my intentions already," Harry says curiously. He went on. "Anyway; when I got assigned this mission, I thought I'd be dealing with a cult!"

Louis blinked at him, mouth a straight line.  

"So I thought—"  

"Stop talking."

Cut off by Louis' abrupt demand, Harry closed his mouth. Louis didn't like when Harry looked amused. Tampering down his irritation, Louis said calmly, "the auction is about to start. I suggest you stop talking, unless you're willing to miss the available purchases."

Harry snorts deprecatingly. "Okay."  

Louis shifts his attention to the front, the displays of red carpeting and a stage light that is the only source for light in a dark room making his nerves go haywire. The only way to explain it.

Just then, the same man from earlier strides to the center podium, a smile still on his tanned skin. Under the lights, the man's black hair looks sleekier than previous states, and light reflects off it. It's oddly enough of a grounding for Louis to grasp his senses and steel his mind into the mission; soon.  

Louis tips his head to the left a bit, stretching his neck. He realizes how the room has filled up.

The man clears his throat and the rooms' talking dies down. "Hello to everyone, pleasure to have you here," the man speaks. The room's occupants are smiling at him, and not to be outdone, Louis plasters on a smile as well. The man goes off to a talk relative to the admiration for attending, the auction's history, the first item being brought out, so on.  

Throughout the course of an hour, he endures people raising paddles to up the prices, and whenever one gains an artifact from the front, the room claps. As if they weren't ascending to madness another item was passed along. Unless they had eyes set on something specific, it was free feeding.  

Louis sat straight in his chair the whole time, so when Mr. Morrison was betting against another man across the room for the Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered 3 painting, worth roughly half a million American dollars after the prices were raised to the stake, he didn't show any facial expression change. Mr. Morrison won. Harry looked back at Louis and with a slow turn of his body, and his lips curled into a twisted smile. Louis’ eyes hardened a layer.

So he knew.

[witchesoz]

What we know of Oz: Book 1, the Heart of Oz

Before speaking of the Emerald City in itself, I would like to talk a bit about the central region of Oz, the “Green Country” you could call it. Indeed, many people forget that the lands around the Emerald City as technically their own territory, noted to be a “very beautiful country” which contrasts with the dark forest of the East, the desert lands of the West and the weird locations of the South. On the Eastern side, it seems that the limit of this green land is the wide river that blocks the Yellow Brick Road into two (this same river that goes all the way to the West). If you follow along the Yellow Brick Road you find beautiful gree / We also know a bit what the East-southern part of this central region looks like – this is where our heroes drift after being carried away by the river. This east-southern part is described as a “lovely country” with plenty of flowers and fruit trees, brightly colored birds and lovely flowers that cover the ground into a thick carpet – yellows, white, blues and purples, with great clusters of scarlet poppies. The more towards the East one goes, the more the poppies, until they form one giant meadow – the famous “poppy fields” all Oz fans now. And no, the poppies aren’t supposed to be magical – in this book they are natural poppies, but in such a great number that they smell becomes insanely strong and can make people fall asleep forever. (If you don’t know, poppies are the source of opium). Beyond this field of poppies there are beautiful green fields of grass – this is where our heroes meet the Field Mice Queen and the Wildcat. Past this field is the Yellow Brick Road.

  Now, going along the Yellow Brick Road, smooth and well paved, one will find quickly farms and small green houses, with green faces, in which live these central denizens – all dressed in emerald-green, and wearing peaked hats “like those of the Munchkin” (indeed in the early illustrations, what we know currently as the typical Munchkins hats, with the point and the bells, was the typical hat of all the Ozians). After these houses and farms, we arrive to the Emerald City. I will mention that again, but Dorothy identifies this central area as the “Land of Oz”, which means either she is mislead, either indeed this central region is the land of Oz proper that gave its name to the entire country. She may also be simply designating this land as the belonging of Oz, as in the Wizard. Who knows?

  To the West, there are mentions of “fields of soft grass, dotted with daisies and buttercups”, and the southern part of this central region is described as “green fields and bright flowers that stretch on every side” (it seems to be the same area that is before the poppy fields), and populated by butterflies and moths.   # The Emerald City, or City of Emeralds. Named as such because it is allegedly entirely made of emeralds. The most famous place of all of Oz, and yet one no one in Oz seems to go to. We know that Boq never went there, the Tin Woodman never went there either – but his father went in this city once, as a young boy – and the Quadlings also never go to the City due to the dangers on the road. Only the farmer that lives in one of the green houses around the City has more knowledge about it, claiming that he went there several times. The City is quite hard to miss, given that it glows with a green light – when one arrives in the central region, they can already see the green light in the sky, on the horizon. From the outside the City looks a “mass of towers and steeples”, with “high up above the spires and the dome of the Palace of Oz”. The City is circled by a great green wall, high and thick, bright green, with in it a big gate studded with emeralds that glitter in the sun, and next to this door a bell to ring. When one rings this bell, they enter a high and arched room where the walls glisten with countless emeralds – this is the domain of the Guardian of the Gate, or Keeper of the Keys, however you would call him, he doesn’t have a name at this point. He is described as a man, the same size as a Munchkin, clothed in green and with a greenish tint to his skin. His role is to welcome the travelers, to make sure they have a rightful business in the town, and to put them on green glasses. This is the rule – in order to not be blinded by the brightness and glory of the city, people have to put on spectacles made of green glass and gold bands locked behind the head with a key, a key only the Guardian possesses. It is forbidden to take them off when inside the City, people even have to sleep with it, and this rule was instituted during the foundation of the City. Of course, this is later revealed to be another trick of the Wizard: the City has indeed emeralds in its ornaments, and has green in it, but as the Wizard says “no more than anywhere else”, and so, to make people think everything was green and everything was made of emeralds, he invented this “green spectacles” rule. Dorothy and her friends realize this immediately upon leaving the City – the young girl sees that the green dress she was wearing is now entirely white (maybe the Wizard also tried to hide his “illegal” use of the color associated with the Witches?). It is also interesting to know that in this book, there seems to be only one door to the City, with one spectacle room and one Guardian of the Gates – while in most of modern adaptations the Emerald City has four doors, one for each cardinal direction.

Once a visitor has their glasses on, the Guardian of the Gates uses a big golden key to open the inside doors to the City proper (remember, the glasses tint everything green so in terms of colors, nothing is sure): streets lined with beautiful houses of green marble, and studded everywhere with sparkling emeralds, a pavement of the same green marble where the blocks are joined by rows of emeralds, with windows of green glass. Dorothy notes that the City is quite busy, with many people, men, women and children – she also notices numerous shops, that sell either clothes and accessories (shoes, hats, clothes…) either food (pop-corn, candy and lemonade). At the center of the City is the Palace. Inside one can find big rooms with greens carpets and mats, a furniture incrusted with emeralds. The staff of the palace seems to be mostly made of soldiers (well, we meet one soldier, with a green uniform and a long “green” beard) and maids (we see a young girl with a pretty green silk gown). A typical guest room of the Palace has a bed with silk sheets and a velvet counterpane, a tiny marble fountain in which can be found perfume, flowers at the window, a wardrobe filled with (for girls) silk, satin and velvet gowns, as well as a shelf filled with books – all green, of course. As for the Throne Room of Oz, it is a big round room with a high arched roof, large emeralds covering the floor, ceiling and walls, and a great light as bright as the sun in the middle of the room, shining upon a big throne of marble shaped like a chair and decorated with gems. An interesting mention in this book is the one of the court of the Palace – in front of the Throne Room, there are “many ladies and gentlemen of the court” in rich costumes, that every morning go in front of the door hoping to see the Wizard but are never permitted to, so they spend their time standing around and talking to each other. I don’t think we see these courtiers ever again after this book.  

  # Two specificities of the City: One, people use money. In later books, Baum claims that money doesn’t exist in Oz, and indeed we see previously that the Ozians seem to practice ancient barter exchanges (such as the Wicked Witch of the East being paid with cattle). BUT… there is clearly mentioned here that children pay their lemonade with “green pennies”. It wouldn’t be surprising however that the Wizard is actually the one that introduced the idea of money in Oz – after all it fits very well with the teachings he gives to the heroes: “In this country, everyone must pay for everything they get”, “I never grant favors without something in return”. Second specificity, there are no horses or working animals of any kind – men carry around their belongings and packages on little green carts that they push before them.  

    # Now that we saw the City, what about the Wizard? First of all, let’s look at the legend he built for himself in Oz… When Dorothy asks the Witch of the North who the Wizards of Oz are, she merely answers that Oz is the “Great Wizard” – no mention of other possible smaller Wizards, no explanation that he is the last Wizard, almost as if she tried to avoid the question. The Witch informs that he is “more powerful than the rest of us” [the Witches], and that he rules over the Emerald City (not the entirety of Oz, mind you, only the Emerald City). The Good Witch also adds that she ignores if the Wizard is a “he” or a “she” for she never saw him before. However she insists that Dorothy should not be afraid of Oz, and that he will help her if she asks. Later Boq has a more nuanced message, telling Dorothy that it is better to “keep away from Oz, unless you have business with him”. When asking the farmer from the green house near the City, Dorothy learns that no one currently ever saw Oz – all those that did are now long dead. The Wizard spends his days in his great Throne Room, never leaving the palace, and if someone manages to get an interview with him, the Great Wizard will take all sorts of shapes to hide his true face. The farmer mentions that previous sighted shapes of the Wizard have been: a bird, an elephant, a cat, a beautiful fairy and a brownie (not the cake, but the little fae-impish like creatures). When each of the heroes talk about their wishes, the farmer also has very specific answers about the Wizard’s abilities, saying that he has “more brains than needed”, “a large collection of hearts of all shapes and sizes” and a “great pot of courage which he has covered with a golden plate to keep it from running over”. It is hard to know if the man is inventing these fabulous stories along or if they are real rumors the central citizens believe in. As for the Guardian of the Door’s opinion: according to him, the Wizard is powerful and terrible, and if you come on an idle or foolish errand he will be angry and destroy his visitors, but he is still a good Wizard that rules wisely, only being terrible for people who are not honest or too curious.

  # Everyone remembers that the Wizard, in a memorable sequence, takes a different “shape” for each of the travelers. To Dorothy he appears as an enormous limbless and bodiless head, resting on his throne, with no hair at all, a head said to be “biggest than any giant head”. To the Scarecrow, he appears as a “lovely lady, dressed in green silk gauze and wearing upon her flowing green locks a crown of jewels. Growing from her shoulders were wings gorgeous in color and so light that they fluttered if the slightest breath of air reached them.” To the Tin Woodman, the Wizard appears as a terrible beast, big as an elephant, with a head like a rhinoceros, five eyes, five long arms growing out of his torso, five slim legs, and thick wooly hair covering all of his body. Finally, to the Lion the Wizard appears as a ball of fire, so fierce and glowing that the Lion can’t look at it and he feels his whiskers burning with the heat. Of course, all of this are just tricks – the head is a giant dummy manipulated with wires, the lady is actually a costume and a mask, the beast is a structure covered in animal skins, and the ball of fire is a cotton boil with burning oil. The main talent of Oz to fool the people is actually his ability to manipulate his voice – on one side he is a very talented ventriloquist, able to project his voice everywhere (in fact, when he pretended being invisible, he imitated the feeling of moving around by having his voice move through the room) and on the other he is a talented imitator, able for example to imitate any kind of animal sound, bird or beast. In fact he was a ventriloquist before becoming a balloonist in a circus.  

   # Of course, the Wizard’s backstory needs a lot of thought and look at. Why? Because the arrival of the Wizard is one of the biggest inconsistencies of the Oz books, so much that the wildest theories and explanations were created to explain the differences from book to book. In this book, the Wizard (whose real name is actually unknown) was born in the Omaha. He became at first a ventriloquist, having trained under the “best master”, but then he chose to become a balloonist – and during a balloon accident he was carried away by a current of air for a whole day and a whole night, up to the land of Oz. The local Ozians, visibly those that inhabited the Central Region at the time, believed him to be a great Wizard – that was the only explanation for him coming down the clouds – and they promised to do everything he would do, out of fear. The Wizard was very glad to become the king of these people, and his first order was to build the Emerald City – yes, build, because the Emerald City in this book was created by the Wizard. He explains that it was half to keep the people “busy”, and half because it “amused” him. This is the whole dichotomy of the Wizard – if you try to see him as a bad man, you end up realizing that most of his actions have good explanations and good effects. But if you try to see him as a good man, you keep noticing little bits of selfishness and megalomania sparkled everywhere. He is truly a neutral character, or rather as he says, “ a good man but a bad Wizard”. The City was built with many jewels and precious metals, but Oz had the idea of the green spectacles to make it look like everything was green in there, to make it even more splendid and beautiful. He also notes that the City was built when he was a young man – but in current times he is a “very old man”, small, bald and wrinkled. While he at first played the role of the Wizard to just “play” the game and use his power, he quickly did it out of fear and self-preservation, when he found about out the four Witches of Oz, who had real powers. The Wizard is terribly afraid of the Witches – at the time there were already two good Witches, the Northern and Southern one, that would “never do him harm”, so he did not care much about them (and it explains why the Northern Witch never saw him). But the two Wicked Witches in the East and the West were already there too, and he needed to make everyone believe that he was much more powerful than them to prevent the cruel witches from attacking. (We know that the Wizard actually entered in the West, and was driven out of it by the Winged Monkeys of the Witch, but we don’t know more about the actual details of this event). And so began this trickery that worked so well and for such a long time that the Wizard thought he would never be found out. Note that when called a humbug at first, the Wizard seems to be delighted by such a name, but later admits that he is tired of being one and he wants to be able to get out of the Palace and return to his old circus life.

   # Despite all of that, the Wizard still tries his best to offer to our heroes what they want. To give brain to the Scarecrow, he fills his head with bran, and mixes with it pins and needles to give him a “sharp” mind. To the Tin Woodman he gives a “soft” heart, aka one made of silk and stuffed with sawdust. And for the Lion, he gives him a liquid that immediately makes him feel brave and courageous – a subtle joke, but clearly the Wizard is giving the Lion a strong alcohol.

   # A final interesting note about the Wizard: the way the people will remember him. Indeed, the narration explains to us that the citizens of the Emerald City kept loving the Wizard after he left, pretendedly to visit “a great brother Wizard who lived in the clouds”, they remembered him as their “friend” and a wonderful wizard – but more than all, they remember “He built us this city”. Yep, clearly the Wizard changed people’s memory so that they would think he built the city for them, and not the other way around. But it fits very well with what the Wizard said before: “I have always been good to these people, and they love me”.

[noonachronicles]

The Malebranche Pt. 1

Im Changkyun/I.M. X Reader & Lee Jooheon X Reader

Word count: 9.4k

Warnings: There is cursing. It’s a story about demons so...probably a little dark in theme. This is demon smut. I’m not being flippant or dramatic. It’s literally smut with demons. This is 18+. I’m not your mom and I’m not the fan fiction police. So just don’t have unprotected sex and don’t fuck demons. There’s also some edging. 

Genre: Demon AU. Modern Fantasy. Sorta Soulmate AU

A/N: This is for @nemesyis​. You probably just wanted some porn without plot but if you haven’t noticed... I’m incapable. Here is some porn with a light sprinkling of plot for flavor instead. 

‘The Path to Paradise Begins in Hell’ - Dante Alighieri

The Eighth Circle was a beautiful burlesque club. It was expected by many to be a front for a brothel or a drug ring but there had never been any proof of it even after several raids and countless undercover investigations. Everyone just assumed that something illegal was happening there, and no one could blame them. It was a cesspool of sin and debauchery.

The club was located just outside of the city in a three story Victorian style mansion. The inside had been completely gutted and renovated by the owners but the outside stayed essentially the same. Only a new layer of paint had been applied. Wine red paneling, black trim, and gold accents. Gothic Barbies dream house.

Inside there was a large foyer with blood red carpets and gold walls. The ceiling was covered in a renaissance style painting. Though the art was not light and angelic like one might have expected. It was dark. It demons and sin. It was the inferno. Beautifully done, but terrifying if you looked too long or too closely. The foyer broke away into three different theatre style rooms. The Red Room, The Purple Room, and The White Room.

The Red Room was the most popular room, it was the most sinful of the three. Named appropriately for it’s color scheme. Red furniture, red floor, red walls, red velvet panels draped overhead. The only things that weren’t red were the crystal chandeliers. Those were consistent through every room in the house. The Red Room experience stood in the center of the four corners. Night club, burlesque club, strip club, and sex club. Consent was the only rule in The Red Room.

The Purple Room offered a slightly more cabaret atmosphere. Mostly purple everything with silver accents here and there. The performances were rambunctious and inclusive. Despite the dark aesthetic it was a classic good time. Usually The Purple Room housed bachelorette parties and birthdays. Large groups of women just looking for a memorable night out.

The White Room, the third of the triplets, was mostly white with accents of gold. It was the most elegant room The Eighth Circle had to offer. Sheer white fabrics hung from the ceiling along with gold and crystal chandeliers. The floor was a bright white marble laced with rivers of gold striping. The couches and chairs were white velvet cushions on gold framing. Women, scantily clad in white lingerie, carried gold trays filled with champagne in crystal stemware. The White Room was mostly for politicians and businessmen that would bring in out-of-towners to impress and seduce them into working with them. Occasionally vanilla couples would partake in The White Room as well if they were trying to spice up a fading love life. Typically if it worked the couples could be found in The Red Room within a week.

The owners of The Eighth Circle were the Malebranche Brothers. Sometimes they were referred to as the Malebranche Twins. Though you’d seen them before in town and couldn’t imagine they were at all related. Most people, however, just called them the Demon Twins.

You would have normally suspected that particular nickname had to do with all of the references to Dante's Inferno that surrounded them whether intentionally or unintentionally. You found it much more likely that the people thought the brothers had a hint of evil in them and less likely that they would have picked up on the literary references. It wasn’t that you thought everyone in town was an illiterate moron. You’d lived in this town your whole life. You knew that everyone in town was an illiterate moron.

The brothers, if that’s even what they were, were young. In appearance they seemed about your age but there was something about their mannerisms that made them seem much older. It’s part of what attracted you to them. They were unlike every other bachelor in this town. It was like they were from somewhere else entirely. A bigger city was your only guess. They had a sense of class and elegance that made them entirely desirable. Unfortunately they weren’t only desirable to you. Every woman and several of the men in town flung themselves desperately at the pair every chance they got. So while you continued to fantasize about them, you knew that’s what they would remain, a fantasy.

From what you knew of them Jooheon was the older of the two brothers but not by much. He was known for his unbelievably plush lips and unmistakable dimples. His hair color usually changed with the seasons but you always thought he looked best with a darker tone. He was also said to be the kinder of the two. He had a pleasantness that his brother seemed to lack, which was probably why he was the one known to take care of the business side of The Eighth Circle.

His brother was Changkyun. He’d been nicknamed the Evil Twin by the people in town. Mostly due to the stern, unimpressed look of his lips when his face was resting. On occasion you’d seen him out to lunch or in a shop with his brother and thought he’d seemed quite playful and even childish. He didn’t scare you too much.

Though you knew Jooheon was meant to be the kinder of the two brothers you would never forget the first time you’d seen them. You were shopping in the city. Jooheon had just stepped out of the car and was headed into a restaurant when he’d turned in your direction, looking just over his shoulder, and his eyes met yours. It was terrifying, just the way it felt, like in that instant he was inside of you.

It was as if he knew every one of your thoughts, every desire. There was just something about him. Lust incarnate with the way your attraction to him tugged at you like there was rope around your waist whenever he was nearby and he held the opposite end firmly in his grasp.    

In that sense you felt lucky that they were a deviant desire and nothing more. Certainly you wouldn’t be able to handle either one of them.

-

Changkyun stood on the third floor balcony that overlooked The Red Room. He was leaning over the banister, soaking in the immoral energies of the night's patrons. A wicked grin grew across his lips as he watched hands grasping flesh. Lips on lips. Very little attention made to who was partaking in who. He loved his work.

“Honey.” he said as his brother moved behind him, not bothering to turn his attention from the activities below.

“Kyun.” Jooheon said leaning against the bannister beside him.

“How are things running?”

“Smooth as ever. Smoother even. Busy for a Wednesday.” Jooheon shrugged, sipping from his glass of bourbon.

“Lucky for us, brother, sin never takes a day off.” Changkyun laughed and snatched the liquor from his brother's hand to take a drink.

Jooheon grew silent, closing his eyes. Changkyun looked over just as they snapped back open to show pitch black orbs. He inhaled deeply, his hand gripping the wooden banister so tightly his knuckles grew white with strain. When he exhaled his eyes lightened to their normal brown.

“She’s here.” he gulped.

Changkyun’s eyebrow perked with mild interest, “Your little townie girlfriend?”

“Don’t be an asshole.” Jooheon glared.

“Where is she? No! Wait!” he chuckled enthusiastically, “Let’s play a game.”

Jooheon shook his head, “I don’t want to play with you. You cheat and you’re mean.”

“Don’t be such a fucking infant.” Changkyun snapped, but his smile had returned in the same blink, “Pleeease, Honey. You never play with me. I’m bored.”

He sighed in quick defeat, prefering to avoid another of his brother's temper tantrums, knowing that Changkyun could always make things worse if he was denied what he wanted.  “What’s the game?”

“If I can figure out who she is on my own, without any hints from you, I get to fuck her.” Jooheon’s jaw clenched, but his brother wasn’t done yet. “I get to fuck her...first.”

“Changkyun.” he growled between tight lips.

His brother only laughed, “Oh please! Please, brother! Who knows if I’ll even be able to figure it out?”

“No.”

“What if I make it a little harder for myself?” he asked, “I only get three guesses.”

Jooheon rolled his eyes knowing full well Changkyun was not going to let it go until he agreed to play. “Fine. Three guesses. No hints.”

“Deal.” Changkyun grinned and held out his hand.

Jooheon grabbed his brother's hand and in an instant they were wrapped in a bind of fire to seal the deal. Jooheon could see the flames dancing in his brothers glistening black eyes, he already felt defeated. His brother always got everything he wanted. Why should she be any different?

After the deal was sealed Changkyun clapped his palms together. “Let’s begin! ONWARD! To the foyer!”

-

You stood at the bar in the foyer suppressing a yawn. Requesting a date on a Wednesday night meant this guy had already been docked points in your book. Being late meant he’d lost even more. Mostly you just hoped he wasn’t going to stand you up. You chewed on the stem that had been attached to the cherry that came with your drink and eyed yourself through the mirror behind the bar.

You looked so good tonight considering the speed with which you had to get ready between getting home from work and the original meet up time. Your dress was stark white and tight against your curves. The hem sat against the tops of  your thighs, not even thinking about nearing your knees. The neck was a deeper v than you normally wore but the white lace sleeves made it seem more classy than slutty, so you thought anyway.

Your blind date was forty minutes late and you had to decide between getting another drink or calling it a night. You lifted your hand to grab the attention of the bartender, ready to close your tab and giving this date a time of death but then you felt it. A tightening in your stomach, you crossed one red stiletto covered foot over the other, squeezing your thighs together and tried to keep breathing. You didn’t know how you knew it was him, you just knew he was somewhere nearby. This wasn’t the first time you’d felt it.

“Did you need something?” the bartender asked. “Refill?”

You shook your head and after a slightly put out look she turned and went to the next guest. Turning around you leaned your back against the bar and searched the room. It didn’t take long before you saw him. Not your date. Jooheon. Standing at the top of the stairs with his brother at his side.

Changkyun was saying something energetically as he looked over the crowd of club attendees. With a gulp you looked Jooheon over. His hair was bright red tonight, the last time you saw him it was blonde, and pushed back off of his forehead. You could see the dip in his cheek from his dimple from where you were, that's how deep it was, and the double slit in his eyebrow.

You bit your bottom lip as they made their way down the stairs, your heart was racing. He’d missed a few buttons on the black silk shirt he was wearing, intentionally you assumed, and you were mesmerized by the thin silver chain around his neck with its pendant that bounced against his bare chest. Your gaze had just made it to the holy grail, a golden snake belt buckle and a pair of tight black, leather pants that had your mouth a confused mixture of desert dry and waterfall of drool.  

That was when you heard, “Did it hurt?”

Moving your focus you met your date, Kihyun, with the single red rose he said he was bringing. “Huh?”

“When you fell from heaven?” he grinned.

Oh. No. You faked your very best chuckle. “That’s cute.”

“I’m Kihyun.”

You lifted the rose he’d handed you, “I’d gathered.”

“I reserved a table in The White Room. People say it’s hard to get a reservation here but honestly I found it easy. I always get into wherever I want probably because-” he continued to brag, not even humbly, but you had stopped listening anyway.

With every step The Twins moved closer. They walked right past you as if in slow motion, the sleeve of Jooheon’s black blazer brushed the back of your hand and you nearly lost your breath completely. Wishful thinking had you believing he’d even looked at you, however briefly. He hadn’t even gotten two steps away and you’d already imagined about four different ways he could take you right then and there. You could probably kill someone if it meant running your hands through his hair, kissing that dimple, knowing that man. Honestly you couldn’t help but to think to yourself that you might have to just sleep with Kihyun tonight even if things didn’t go well because you were pretty sure you were in heat. And why should you have to suffer through the night just because this guy hadn’t yet had the decency to apologize for being an hour late.

“Y/n?” he said, placing his hand gently on your forearm.

You jumped slightly, you were so incredibly wound up. “What?”

“I asked if you wanted to go to our seats now.”

“Yeah, let’s go...” You said with one last longing look over at The Twins.

-

While you were getting comfortable with Kihyun in The White Room, Jooheon was following Changkyun around on his mission through The Eighth Circle. First the foyer, where he would look at every guest and then back at Jooheon to search his face for some sort of slip up. Then The Red Room where he moved around the room in his charismatic way, gently touching guests on their hips or arms, asking them if they were having a good time and trying to read their energy. By the time they stepped out of The Purple Room he’d wasted two of his guesses. Changkyun was furious and Jooheon was feeling hopeful. Only one more wrong guess from his counterpart and he was free to pursue you.

“Give me a fourth guess.” Changkyun huffed, “One for each room and the foyer. It’s only fair.”

“What’s fair is you playing by the rules we’ve already set.” Jooheon declined the request, “One more guess.”

He hoped that in his frustration Changkyun would get reckless with his last guess. Guess on a whim, be wrong, game over. When they stepped into The White Room it was hard for Jooheon to not look directly at you. He also didn’t want to completely avoid you either, as Changkyun would be looking for that as well. His hands were shaking as he made it to the bar and requested a drink to steady his nerves.

Changkyun sighed deeply looking over the room. “Well, she’s definitely in here.”

“What makes you think that?” Jooheon asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“If you were vibrating any harder, every woman in this room would cum in an instant.” He grinned.

Jooheon shrugged, trying to remain casual. “Well, I mean, if you’re sure. You have one guess left.”

“Tiny or tall. Big or small.” Changkyun hummed to himself, “Blonde or Brunette. Virgin or...slut.”

“Are you and your horrid rhyming skills done yet?” Jooheon asked, “Shows about to start. Maybe you’d like to take a break from your boring little game.”

Ignoring Jooheon, Changkyun had a thought. “Maybe she’s neither virgin nor whore. Maybe, maybe she’s part innocence and part evil. You wouldn’t be attracted to anyone too good, that’s bland. But she couldn’t be too evil either or it would annoy you. You need someone just right. A Goldilocks.”

“What are you talking about?” Jooheon sighed. “How could you know what any of these women are like? I’ve never even met her. I don’t know her personality. There’s no way you could.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, dear brother.” Changkyun grinned and placed two fingers against his lips as he scanned the room. “Eenie meenie...miny moe.”

Slowly he pointed his two fingers out like a gun and took aim with you in his crosshairs. His eyes lit up and his thumb dropped as he released a pop from his lips.

“Found her.” He blew a gust of breath on the barrel of his finger gun and looked over at Jooheon with a wink. “Dressed like an absolute angel but there is... nothing very nice inside of her.”

Jooheon swallowed the lump in his throat. “Fine. Congratulations, you won your dumb little game. Please, don’t do this.”

“What’s the point of winning if you don’t get your reward?” He asked and sneered over at Jooheon who was pouting, “Oh good God. Stop acting like you’re in love with her or something, you don’t even know her. It’s pathetic.”

“If she says no to your advances…”

“Then of course nothing will happen,” Changkyun scoffed, “I’m not a fucking monster.”

“Guess that depends on who you ask.” Jooheon muttered.

“Well, this was fun but I think it’s time to collect my winnings.” Changkyun looked over at Jooheon curiously, “Are you going to watch?”

Jooheon rolled his eyes and finished off his drunk, “Go fuck yourself, brother.”

“Oh but I won’t have to!”  Changkyun laughed to himself as he watched Jooheon storm out of the room.

-

Kihyun had gotten you a new drink before the two of you took your seats in the front row booth he’d reserved for your date. However he’d also talked so much, about himself, that your drink was already down to the ice cubes. You half listened to him as he described in detail what his average work day looked like and half watched the runoff of your melting ice. Taking a sip every time there was enough collected at the bottom of the cup to warrant taking a sip. What felt like three hours, but was only about twenty minutes passed before he finally looked at his watch.  

“Wow, I can’t believe how fast time is flying.” He said with a smile.

“Who knew investment banking was so fascinating.” you offered with mediocre enthusiasm.

“I think they’re really about to get started soon. Would you like me to refill your drink again beforehand?” he asked.

You nodded gratefully, “That would be amazing, thank you.”

“Okay, but last one.” He laughed sliding out of the booth. “No one likes a girl that can’t keep her wits about her.”

Suppressing an eyeroll that hard nearly gave you an instant migraine. The second his back was turned you pulled out your phone and sent a text to the friend that had set you up on this blind date to let her know she was now your ex-friend. You cleared out a few of your awaiting notifications and then before you could even stop yourself your jaw dropped in the biggest yawn you’d ever experienced in your life.

“A yawn that big does not bode well for my business.”

If Changkyun was any other man in the world you assumed you would probably despise him based on his tacky fashion sense alone. Tonight he was wearing a silk, snake print shirt under a purple, velvet blazer. That alone would have been enough to turn you away from any other man, then on top of that his belt buckle was a massive, eye catching, howling wolf's head. Infact, rather than being repulsed by the outfit you found yourself staring quite unabashed as he stood in front of you. His pierced eyebrow was raised as he looked you over, and you noticed the flash of silver on his tongue as it moved across his bottom lip.  

In your head you thought of at least ten clever, sexy comebacks to give him. Ultimately, after too long, all you gave him in reply was, “Huh?”

He snickered to himself, knowing full well he’d already ruffled your feathers and he was only just warming up. “If you’re not having a good time, I want you to know I will make it my personal mission to make sure that you do.”

Shaking your head you blushed, “It’s not...The club is great. Beautiful. Entertaining beyond comparison.”

His eyes darted over to the bar, lingered on Kihyun’s back for a moment, and then went back to you, “Oh no, it’s not...your date? Please tell me you’re not here, in that dress, with someone who is yawn worthy boring.”

Your mouth opened and then you closed it slowly into a smile as Kihyun came back to the table. He handed you your refreshed drink and took his seat in the booth before realizing Changkyun was standing beside your table.

“Hi...can we help you?” he asked, clearly confused.

“How rude of me…” Changkyun held out his hand and Kihyun accepted it. “I’m Changkyun. This is my club. Well, half of it anyway.”

“Do you often walk around to make sure people are having a good time?” Kihyun asked.

“Ahh.” Changkyun smirked, “Only when I see a truly beautiful woman in one of my seats.”

“Yes, well, y/n is a stunning specimen.” Kihyun smiled tightly, “I’d thank you for the wonderful time we’ve been having, but the conversation has been all us. The chemistry...spectacular.”

You could see the look in Changkyun’s eye, the one that said he had something witty waiting on that sharp tongue, but the lights began to dim. “Can I sit with you? Just for the first performance? I’d hate to be in anyone’s way.”

“I don’t think-”

“Of course.”

You and Kihyun spoke together, but ultimately you scooted into the booth further and allowed Changkyun to slip in beside you as the music began and that was the end of the discussion. The room went dark and a bright white spotlight hit the stage where the white velvet curtains parted to show the stage. An old, big jazz band song started to play and you watched wide eyed as a huge silver ring descended from the ceiling and sitting on the bottom arc of the circle was a scantily clad woman. You watched fascinated as she began moving around the ring. Hanging, dangling, contorting her body all around the thin bar.

Taking just a moment to break your gaze away from the stage, you grabbed your drink to take a sip. Your eyes caught Changkyun’s hand, resting on the top of the table, his fingers thrumming against the white table cloth. Silver bands on two of his fingers and black nail polish on three. Placing your glass down on the table, it took maximum efforts not to reach for his hand.

They looked so long and soft. You wanted to feel them and feel them on you. You realized that this might be the closest you ever got to one of the brothers, so you let your eyes wander. Over his hands, over his wrist with the thin silver bracelet that dangled from it, over his body. The rise and fall of his smooth chest, that you could see clearly from the way his shirt rested open loosely. He was leaning back against the booth and his neck looked so long you gulped. His profile was flawless, jaw sharp, chin perfectly curved, nose...god, his nose. There was a smirk across his lips when he turned his face. His eyes locked with yours, refusing to let you go, not that you’d have looked away anyway.

Changkyun lifted his hand to your face, dragging his fingers down your jaw before holding your chin between his fingers. You felt dazed in a way you had never felt before. You leaned towards him, you were nearly there, lips ready to press against the ones that waited there for you. Then you blinked. Just a blink and you were sitting back in the booth, the lights coming up from the end of the performance. Kihyun was applauding enthusiastically and Changkyun was slipping out of the booth.  

“Wait!” you said suddenly. Changkyun turned to look back at you. “Do you...have to leave so soon?”

“Y/n,” Kihyun reached out and placed his hand on your knee, “I’m sure he’s a busy man with a lot to do. Let’s not bother him further. We can go get dinner.”

“Didn’t you say it was your personal mission to make sure I had a good time?”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” he grinned, “I suppose I could spend a while longer with you.”

“...that’s really not necessary.” Kihyun said quietly, but it was pretty clear he was quickly becoming the third wheel on this date.

You bit your lip as Changkyun sat back down next to you. Kihyun watched flabbergasted for several minutes as the two of you flirted right in front of him before he got up with a huff and took off. You felt a little bad but not enough that you would have gone back in time to change anything.

Changkyun, one of the widely sought after demon twins, had his arm over your shoulder and all of his attention focused on you. You pinched yourself several times until you flinched because it just didn’t seem real.

After a few more performances you mentioned needing to think about calling a cab to go home. Changkyun offered sweetly to take you home and you jumped at the chance. This night started out as such a flop and had turned into a fantasy.

“Stay here.” Changkyun said, letting his hand drag over your hip. He’d walked you out of The White Room following the last performance, and into the busy foyer. “I’ll call for the car.”

You inhaled deeply and let out a relaxing sigh. Being around Changkyun had you so tense, so unbelievably aroused. The knot in your gut was screaming for release, and though you didn’t want to be presumptuous you thought you might actually have a chance with him tonight. A big part of you wished you’d caught Jooheon’s eye, but getting to be with either of the twins was more than you could have hoped for yourself.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

Your blood prickled as Jooheon stepped next to you, his hands in his pockets.

“I..heh...um.” you shook with nerves.

Jooheon just smiled, his dimple digging deeper into his cheek. You wanted to swim in it.

Looking over at you completely he smiled kindly, “Be careful on your way home tonight. We’d like to have you back here again soon.”

“Wow.” You gasped.

You’d never seen him up close before, and honestly you weren’t ready for it. Changkyun was something. Jooheon was something else completely. His eyes were dark but glistened like galaxies. His lips were so...wet. Soft, plush clouds. Your heart was pounding so hard against your chest you were certain it was about to crash all the way through.

“What?” He asked quietly, like a whisper, just for you.

“It’s just..you’re breathtaking.” You’d be embarrassed about saying it later on when you remembered but for now it just had to be said.

He blushed at the compliment. “I could say the same for you.”

There was just something about him. Something inside you was so drawn to something in him. You thought about what it would feel like to just be held by him. He looked like the definition of comfort.

“Y/n.” Both of you turned to see Changkyun, standing in the doorway looking, in contrast, like the definition of devious. “We’re all set, are you ready?”

“Have fun.” Jooheon bowed out and you watched as he turned and left.

“Yeah, ready.” You smiled at Changkyun and he led you to the car waiting outside.

You slid over the black leather of the backseat and Changkyun slid in after. After you gave the driver your address the two of you sat quietly together. Several blocks passed by the window before Changkyun turned to you.

“You prefer my brother.”

“What?” You asked as if you hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes thinking endlessly about Jooheon and his impossible dimple and his unstoppable lips.

“It’s okay. It won’t hurt my feelings.” He assured you.

You sighed, “I don’t have a preference, it’s only that I’d noticed him first.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Why?” Your whole mood dropped.

“It’s just Jooheon is deeply interested in someone right now.”

“Oh…” you didn’t know why it stung so badly, you should have already known someone like him would have someone.

“She was there tonight at the club. Absolutely stunning young woman.”

“That’s so nice...for them.” You wished he’d stop talking about it already.

“It is, isn't it? Then there’s two poor, lonely idiots like us. Right?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You scoffed lightly, “Poor, lonely idiot...that’s definitely me.”

Changkyun looked down at his lap and sighed, “Well, unfortunately I can’t get you what you want, but I can give you second best if you’re willing to settle.”

“What?” You asked in genuine disbelief. “You...would be interested in someone like me?”

“Not someone like you.” He corrected. “I’m interested in you.”

“Really?” You asked, “I don’t mean to sound...so surprised. It’s just, I find it so very hard to believe someone as handsome as you would be interested in me.”

“Why do you think I spent my whole night with you?” He chuckled.

“Honestly? Pity.”

“Not at all. Not even a little bit.” He looked over at you and smirked, “I spent my night with you in hopes of getting a kiss.”

You practically snorted in shock. “What?”

“Something small. Just to taste you.”

“Are you serious?”

He shrugged, “Only if you wanted it too. ...but since I’m not Jooheon.”

It would have been stupid to waste even another second so you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. You could taste how smug he was. The tip of his tongue swiped at your lips and you opened your mouth to him without hesitation. His tongue was soft and slick with the exception of the little metal ball that massaged your tongue.

You moaned into his mouth while his hands roamed over your body. He’d turned his body to yours, his fingers slipping up the thin fabric of your dress until his hand was your hip and the skirt was pulled all the way up to your stomach. You were a panting, breathless mess and his hands were only urging you further.  

You pressed your palm against his chest, “Changkyun…while this is nice and I desperately want more...your driver is like right there.”

“Who?” He said looking towards the front seat and then back to you, “Minhyuk?”

“Yeah…” you nodded, “He’s probably already heard everything I doubt he wants to see it too.”

“Don’t worry. He’s deaf, and blind...and mute.”

“Your driver is deaf and blind?” You smirked.

“Sure he is.” He leaned in and sucked the skin of your neck until you whimpered . “Isn’t that right, Minhyuk?”

When you looked over you saw Minhyuk's eyes flicker to the rear view mirror and then back to the road.

“See, and mute. Like I said.” he slipped his hand between your thighs, fingers grazing your wrecked panties. “Now tell the truth, since your soaked pussy already has. You kind of want him to watch.”

You shook your head, “I don’t care about that. I just...It’s you. I really want you.”

A fire flickered in his eyes and his chest puffed up enthusiastically, “You do?”

“Well...yeah.” you laughed, brushing his cheek with your hand.

“Then you should have me.” His hand pulled gently on your hip.

The pull wasn’t aggressive, only suggestive, until you were throwing your leg over his lap, and sitting on top of him. As the car moved through the streets the backseat filled with the sounds smacking lips and desperate, lustful moans. His hands spread out over your ass and he brought your hips into his. The size of the bulge you felt between your thighs was more than you could have expected. Your eyes rolled back while your hips rolled forward in a needy attempt at getting the friction you hadn’t realized you were missing out on.

Changkyun sat smug beneath you, enjoying the frenzied way that you thrusted against him. Your teeth dug into his lips. It was as if you’d lost all control. Your animalistic need for him was outweighing any desire you had to preserve an image of a respectable woman. Then you were close, you could taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue. All you needed was maybe ten more seconds with his bulge. And then it was gone. With a surprising amount of strength he plucked you from his lap and you were back on the seat, stunned into silence.

“It seems we’re here.” Changkyun said calmly as he straightened out his shirt and jacket. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

“I..umm.” you straightened your skirt down your trembling legs. “Well… thank you for the ride. I appreciate it.”

“I should thank you for the ride.” He laughed and then he asked in a slightly condescending tone, “You didn’t expect me to go in with you did you?”

Too embarrassed to even look at him, you shook your head and opened the door, “Of course not. Uhm, bye.”

You slipped out of the car and began the shameful walk inside. You heard the door shut and were waiting for the car to drive off when you heard Changkyun call out to you.

“Why would I be expected to come inside when you didn’t even ask nicely?”

Turning around you smiled at the sight of him standing beside the waiting car, looking proud of himself for fooling you.

“Changkyun… would you like to join me inside?”

With his hands in his pockets he walked over slowly. Casually, taking in the outside view of your apartment building, until you were standing chest to chest. Leaning down he whispered against your ear, “I would love to come inside of you. Oop, I meant with you.”

Without even asking your brain permission, your hips pushed forward until they were pressed against his. “I-uh…”

“Go on…” he prompted. “Tell the truth. Tell me again what you want.”

He was so close you couldn’t miss the opportunity to taste him again. Kissing softly along his jaw until you met his ear you whispered, “I want you.”

“Want me to what?”

You blushed and shook your head, “Just you.”

“Come on, y/n.” He grinned, “I know how filthy you can get. I just watched you hump me relentlessly in the backseat of my car. Stop playing coy and tell me what it is that you want.”

“I want you to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs.”

He inhaled sharply and stepped back with a pleased smile, “Wonderful. Lead the way.”  

-

Somewhere between your initial excitement outside of the apartment building and the ride up the elevator you remembered that your apartment was a mess. Usually your home had that typical ‘lived in’ feel to it, but it wasn’t a pigsty. However after the hurricane you had become in your attempt to get ready for your date it was a sloppy disaster. You tried to talk  Changkyun into waiting out in the hall while you cleaned up but, too amused by your panic, he refused.

“May I have a look around?” Changkyun asked politely as you hurriedly picked up loose clothes from the floor.

“Sure...it’s messy. Obviously.” You warned, “I hadn’t planned on having anyone up.”

“Not even your date?” He called curiously from the living room as he surveyed your belongings.

You let out a quiet sigh as you considered how to answer him. Shaking your own head in disbelief you said, “I don’t typically do this kind of thing. You know, just… invite people home on the first date.”

Changkyun laughed heartily from the doorway of your bedroom and it made you jump. You hadn’t realized he was right there. “You don’t have to lie for my benefit. In fact I prefer your filthy, slutty honesty.”

Between the suggestive tone of his words and the dark look in his eyes, goosebumps popped up all over your body. He swiped his long, wet tongue over his lips and then casually turned his back on you to continue perusing your belongings.

“Can I get you anything? Water...wine…” you asked, lighting a scented candle and then leaning against the dresser once you’d finished your quick clean.

“Do you have any banana milk?” He asked and looked over his shoulder at your surprised face before he laughed, “I’m fucking with you. I don’t want anything.”

Your thighs rubbed anxiously together as you watched him look over your bookshelf. He opened a few boxes to find letters and photographs before moving on.

“You look like you’re looking for something.” You said with a tiny gulp.

“I am.” He said honestly before tugging open one of your bedside drawers.

“How do you know I even have what you’re looking for?”

He smirked as he made his way around the bed to the second drawer. Placing his hand on the handle he watched your cheeks flush and he said, “You absolutely have what I’m looking for...angel.”

You were practically shaking as he pulled the drawer open. He laughed again before reaching into the drawer and pulling out your favorite teal colored vibrator. Turning towards you he spun it around in his hand.

“Not even in the cute, silk drawstring bag for added privacy. Just sitting right on top where anyone can find it. What a bad girl...” He stepped over to you and dragged the toy against your thigh. “This guy must see a lot of action.”

“Maybe.” You said as he moved the vibrator up under your dress. “Why were you looking for it?”

“I wanted to see what you’re used to.” He leaned in until you felt his breath on your neck. “I wanted to see if you could take me.”

Your eyes closed gently, “And?”

“Inconclusive.” He said inhaling you deep into his chest. “I’ll have to conduct further tests. So if you’d be so kind as to go lay down for me.”

“Okay…”

“So agreeable.” He watched you slip past him and move toward the bed. “Take the dress off first.”

You stopped just at the edge of the mattress and unzipped the side of your dress. His eyes stayed on you as you tugged the dress off your shoulders and slipped it down your hips and thighs until it fell to the floor at your feet. Turning around you looked at him, his head was tilted and there was something evil in his smile as he took you in. Noticing that you hadn’t moved he looked up and caught your eyes and with a small shiver you climbed onto the mattress.

“No bra.” He noted.

“Doesn’t go with the cut of the dress.”

“Interesting that you didn’t plan on having any visitors tonight, and yet you’re wearing such mouthwatering panties. Maybe you’re just the type that owns only fancy matching sets.” He said, pushing himself off of your dresser and moving towards the bed, “If I check your panty drawer what will I find, y/n? A dozen matching lace, satin sets or a mismatched  mess of cute cotton panties with pineapples and puppy dogs on them.”

“What do you think?” You asked softly as he sat down on the mattress next to you and crossed one leg over the other.

“I think I’d prefer you in neither.” He grinned, his pierced eyebrow raised and you realized his comment had been a subtle command.

Biting your lip, you squirmed as you pulled your panties off your hips and down your thighs. Changkyun cleared his throat and held out his hand once they’d unhooked from your ankles. You handed him the laced satin fabric. Fisting them in his hand he brought them to his nose and inhaled deeply with a satisfied groan.

“Mmm. That’s a five star cunt if I’ve ever smelled one.” He smiled, and placed the bundle of fabric in his pocket. His fingers danced across the skin of your stomach, over your hip, and down your thigh. “I’ve already done such a nice job on you. And we’ve only just begun.”

You watched quietly as he pushed your legs open and teased your soaked sex with this fingertips. They slipped over your slick folds, circled your sensitive clit, and dipped briefly into the velvety depth of you. He kept his eyes on your face the whole time, taking in every reaction, no matter how small. No matter how hard you tried to hide it from him, he was learning you too quickly. He lifted his glistening fingers to his mouth and hummed pleasantly as his tongue ran over them.

He dropped his hand down to your mouth and said, “Open.”

You twisted your tongue around his fingers before sucking them into your mouth. When he groaned and his eyes fell closed you wanted to cheer in celebration that you’d finally gotten him. Even if it was small, and even if he was definitely going to own you much harder, you internally celebrated your little victory. After a long minute passed with his fingers in your mouth he removed them from your lips and cupped your face in his hand.

“I...like you.” he said softly, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

Dropping his hand beside him he picked up the vibrator that had been laying on the comforter. A shiver went through you when he clicked the toy on and brought it between your legs. Your toes were already starting to curl into the blanket beneath you and all he’d done was drag the vibrator over your pussy. He circled the toy around your clit several times before dragging it down and back up. You didn’t know exactly what his plan was but you loved how it felt. Once he’d gotten the vibrator as dripping wet as you were, he pressed it inside of you slowly. Your mouth fell open at the sudden filling sensation of it.

“Touch yourself.” he requested.

As your hand reached down to play with your hardened clit, Changkyun leaned forward and took one of your nipples in his mouth. There was something so...detached and demeaning in the way you were completely naked and exposed while he remained fully dressed. Despite how small he had you feeling, you still felt incredibly powerful with all of the focus being on you. It was surprisingly sexy. You moaned as you felt your oncoming orgasm for a second time that night, while he fucked you with your own vibrator. Your free hand slid up into Changkyun’s hair and massaged the back of his head as he continued to suck and tease your breasts with his teeth.  

“Fuck!” You shouted, back arching off the mattress, “Don’t stop, I’m so close. I’m gonna cum.”

You were right there that moment of agony before the ecstasy. Except ecstasy didn’t come and neither did you. Changkyun had pulled the vibrator from between your legs and turned it off and with the loss of the fill your hand had dropped subconsciously.

“Why?” You whimpered.

This was the second time he’d done that tonight and you were annoyed and furious and so aroused you wanted to scream. He looked down at you, his fingers brushing a few stray strands of hair from your sweat beaded forehead.

He shrugged, “It’s funny. You’re very cute when you squirm.”

He stood up from the mattress and pulled his jacket from his body before folding it and hanging it over the plush reading chair in the corner. He hummed a cheerful song as he walked back to the bed, rolling his sleeves up his forearms.  Standing at the end of the mattress, he looked over you. Grabbing your ankles and he dragged you down the bed slightly until he had you where he wanted you and then he climbed onto the bed between your legs. Spreading your legs wide open he admired what he’d done so far. You laughed to yourself as he inspected your swollen, sticky cunt.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, spreading your lips open.

“Nothing.” you answered quickly.

You gasped as he smacked your sensitive sex, “Don’t lie. Tell me what you think is so funny. I love a good joke just like anyone else.”

“It’s just…” you sighed, “If you’re going to try and eat me out...it’s not going to work. Not after you’ve already gone so hard with the vibrator. It just won’t be enough to get me off.”

He laughed lightly, “Do you mind if I try it? If you think it won’t work, it probably won’t work but, I’d still like to try.”

“I’ve never said no to head before.”

You’d had one boyfriend in the past who always asked you to sit on his face. It was some of the best head you’d ever gotten. The way his tongue got deeper than any other before him, you were sure it was the only way you could come from oral alone. That was until now, until Changkyun.

He started out so timid. Tiny kitten licks, a long slow swipe of his tongue from bottom to top. It was nice but as you’d suspected it wasn’t about to bring you to orgasm. Then he changed tempo and once he had you suspected that his original apprehension was a red herring.  

He pushed your legs open and put the weight of his arms down on them to keep from moving, which was smart because in seconds your body was attempting to snap them shut on his face. He sucked your clit between his lips and beat it senselessly with the tiny metal piercing on his tongue. You’d been wrong, and if he’d asked you would have admitted it readily. However he didn’t ask, he just kept going. You fisted his hair in between your shaking fingers.

“What...the...fuck.” you gasped as he snaked his tongue inside of you.

Not just inside of you, but deep. Deeper than should have been physically possible. There was half a sense of concern, what had he actually shoved inside of you, but the rest of you just didn’t care. The part that didn’t care won over as your hips started to push up into his face, needing more.

“Oh my god!”

Your gasps turned to shouts of pleasure as he brought out his secret weapon. With his tongue impossibly deep inside of you, the piercing massaging your slick sensitive walls you thought you could come like that. Then his nose brushed against your clit. You couldn’t breath. Your eyes blew wide and it felt like everything you thought you’d known about your own body was a mistake.

“Yes!” You screamed out as your hips tried to buck further into his face, “Fuck! YES! Oh god! Oh- shit!”

He kept on and you kept screaming until there was aggressive pounding on your bedroom wall from your neighbor. You knew you should stop screaming, that you should pull yourself together, but Changkyun and his devilish relentlessness wouldn’t let you.

“Fuck! I'm gonna cum! I’m! Gonna-”

Changkyun pulled away from your pussy with a pop. He licked his lips as he pushed himself up off the mattress.

You deflated against the pillows like a sad balloon. “I don’t like you.”

He shrugged, “For a minute there it sounded like you were incredibly fond of me.”

“Why? Why do you hate me?”

“You said I wouldn’t be able to make you cum.” he said innocently, “It would have been so embarrassing for me if I failed, so I thought it would be better to just quit while I was ahead.”

Grabbing the pillow from beneath your head you swung it into his face. He grabbed the pillow with a genuine laugh and tossed it back on the bed.

“You know I was right there. You know you were going to get me off.” you glared. “Asshole.”

Walking around to the side of the bed he grabbed your hips and tugged you ruffly until your legs were hanging off of the edge where he stepped between them. He leaned forward and sucked the skin of your chest between his lips, moving up until he was latched onto your neck. Your arms slid up his back until your hands were hooked over his shoulders, holding him close.

Finally he pulled back slightly and whispered, “Maybe I just wanted to feel you cum on my dick. Would that be so bad?”

“No.” you said breathlessly as the dark look in his eyes washed over your body like a wildfire.  

A gulp traveled down your throat as he stood fully and removed his belt and unzipped his pants. “Flip over for me.”

“I want to see it.” you said curiously. 

“Fine.” he smirked and placed his hands on his hips. “Go ahead.”

Without a second thought you sat up on the bed and reached to unbutton his pants. You dragged them down his hips just slightly, along with the black boxer briefs beneath. Then, teeth digging anxiously into your bottom lip you freed the massive bulge you’d enjoyed so much earlier in the car.

“Oh.”

It was what you could only describe as the holy grail of dicks. Smooth and long, with perfect and even coloration. It was pretty. The thickness of it made you both nervous and excited. It sat heavy in your palm and the tip glistened with precum. Leaning forward you pressed a sweet kiss against the head and then sat back to lick the taste of him from your lips.

“Will it do?” he asked

“Only one way to find out.” you turned around, and dug your knees into the mattress.

You could feel his hand move between your legs once more. He pressed three fingers inside of you, just to be sure you wouldn’t be stretched too uncomfortably. When he finally sunk into you, you lurched forward onto the bed.

“Is that okay?” It shocked you how thoughtful and caring he sounded.  

You nodded and pressed back into him for assurance. “Don’t stop this time.”

“I won’t.” he promised, his hands wrapping around your hips as he continued on.

It was so slow and easy at first, you thought it would be nice if he could just keep doing it forever. A long satisfied moan escaped your lips. Once he knew you’d taken to his size he went harder, faster. Reaching forward he grabbed your hair tightly in his fist and pulled you back against his chest. It surprised you how sensitive your skin was against the silk of his shirt. Almost as sensitive as your pussy had gotten to his silk cock. The arm that wasn’t hanging onto your hair slipped around your body, his hand cupping your bouncing breast.

“Oh! Fuck me! Harder!” you begged as he slammed into you.

Your orgasm was close, coming faster than any of the ones before and only building bigger with every hard thrust.

“Oh, baby…” he panted against the top of your head, feeling you start to contract around him.

Then your eyes went wide, “NO! What are you doing? Don’t you dare.”

He’d pulled out and hadn’t pushed back in with the swiftness as he had before.

Changkyun only laughed. “Calm down. I just want to see that pretty little face you’re about to make when you cum all over my fat cock .”

You flipped over one more time and looked up at him skeptically. “I swear to God...”

He chuckled as he lifted your leg up around his waist and sunk back into you. “God doesn’t give a fuck if you cum. I do.”

There was something about being face to face. Having your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his forehead pressed against yours, your tongue being gently sucked in between his lips. You were glad he’d made the switch. This was nice. And though he was still fully dressed it felt intimate.

“Oh..Changkyun...yes.” you cried out as your orgasm tore through you threefold. You’d never come so hard, you weren’t sure you could stop. The tightening of your walls milked out his own orgasm soon after. Your body shook almost violently as you came but so sweetly your voice flowed against his ear when you breathed out a simple, “Kyunnie…”

It wasn’t something he’d ever wanted anyone to know. If people found out it would make him appear soft and weak. However, as intentionally uncaring and cruel as he often came off, all he’d ever wanted was to be wanted. Really, truly wanted. Not wanted because he was attractive or rich or had a big dick. And it was impossible for him to know what you’d really wanted him for but it just  felt different with you. It felt like more when you said his name like that, like you still wanted him even though he was done with you.

He knew when you said his name like that he’d fucked up. All he was trying to do was piss off Jooheon. It had been a joke. He didn’t plan to actually like you, he didn’t want to. He wanted to discard you like trash. Give you away to his brother as sloppy seconds and see how much he wanted you then.

“Stay here.” he said hurriedly. He pulled out of you and tucked himself into his pants before disappearing into your attached bathroom.

“Where would I go?” you muttered, before dropping back onto the mattress exhausted.

You closed your eyes and listened as he moved around your bathroom, trying to figure out what he was doing in there. You had figured he was just washing up but it was taking longer than you expected. When he finally returned you were nearly asleep.

“Not yet…” he said waking you up and then helping you off the bed. “Can’t let you go to bed looking like some teenage boys used sock.”

You snorted out a laugh and leaned your head against his shoulder. “You’re just so romantic I don’t know how to handle myself.”

In the bathroom you were genuinely stunned to see that he’d run a bath for you, complete with overflowing bubbles. He helped you step into the tub and eased you down into the warm water.

“Kyunnie…” he looked away from you and then gulped before looking back, “This is actually really sweet.”

“Well,” he grabbed a washcloth, dunking it into the water to use on your skin, “it can’t take all night. Minhyuk is still downstairs waiting for me.”

Lifting your hand you moved it over his neck and pulled him down for a kiss before muttering against his lips, “You can tell him to leave...stay the night with me.”

“I can’t.” he stood up from the tub and dropped the towel in the water. “I’m going to clean up out here. I’ll be back to get you out in a minute.”

He was panicking and he needed to get his composure back. It might be nice to stay the night with you. It might be what he wanted to do, but he wouldn’t. Not only was Minhyuk waiting to take him home, but Jooheon was waiting there for him. Jooheon. His brother. His only friend on earth. The only person who ever would and ever could understand him completely. The only person that would ever put up with his bullshit no matter what.

Jooheon. The one that he was certain was bound to you. At least if the mark on your forearm had anything to say about it.

So he took a deep breath, cleaned up the mess he’d made of your bed and went back to help you out of the tub like he said he would. He even dressed you and tucked you into the bed before getting his jacket off the chair. When he turned to say goodbye you were looking at him with big needy eyes and your lip between your teeth and he hated it.

“Will I see you again?” you asked.

He looked at you with one of his classically smug smirks that you’d seen over and over again all night and said, “I’m sure you will.”

[aiorevelations]

A Number, Not a Name: Chapter 13

We hope you all enjoy. We have a few more chapters coming tonight! ; - )

Present-day:

Scarlett stood in the ballroom of Dalmar’s house directing where the delivery men should hang some paintings Dalmar had ordered specially for the gala that evening.

“Where should we place this piece ma'am?” One of the delivery men asked as he held a portrait of Tigran Hakobyan, a famous Krudian general.

“Place the portrait on the right side of the fireplace.” She pointed in its direction.

“So is everything set for tonight.” She heard a male voice come from behind her.

Scarlett turned toward Dalmar. “Nearly done Dalmar. The works by Sargayan were just delivered.” 

“Excellent. I want everything to be perfect for tonight.”

“And it will be.” Scarlett stepped closer towards him. “I must say I have never felt such a great feeling of anticipation for anything before. To know that we are on the eve of a new Krudia, a different world. You can’t help but feel the excitement in the air.”

“I must confess that after all the time, energy, and resources I have put into this project, I find it hard to believe that I am so close to accomplishing my goal.”

“I’m just grateful to be by your side and to have played a small part in making your goal a reality. Your tuxedo is tailored, pressed, and ready for this evening. I laid it out on your bed.”

“Very good. I best get ready for the gala. See you later this evening.” Dalmar began walking to his bedroom.

“Of course.” As she saw Dalmar leave the room Scarlett smirked to herself. All the pieces of her plan were falling into place; it was just a matter of letting things naturally run their course. That was until it was time for her to interfere with that course. 

As Dalmar slipped on his shawl lapel tuxedo jacket he wasn’t even the slightest bit aware of the tiny voice-activated recorder carefully placed in the left pocket of his suit.

…..

Jason stood in front of the mirror in his hotel room, adjusting his bow tie. Once he was finished he picked up the diamond cufflinks he’d placed on a table by the dresser and attached them to the cuffs of his white dress shirt. He then slipped on his notch lapel tuxedo jacket and did up the front bottoms. He glanced down and up at his reflection, checking his entire outfit, and took a deep breath. Jason wasn’t one to be nervous but even he would admit that the thought of attending a Gala with a wanted criminal was jarring. He knew that the success of his and Tasha’s mission depended on the outcome of this evening. They needed to get the necessary information tonight, otherwise, most likely his first field mission would be a failure. After all the time he had waited to prove himself as an agent on the field, he was going to do whatever it took to make sure that didn’t happen. 

He heard a knock at his room door and walked over to open the door. He opened it and saw Tasha. Jason was taken aback by how gorgeous she looked. She was wearing a dark blue off-the-shoulder gown. The dress had a draped ruffle cascading down the left side. All over the gown was embellished and embroidered with sequins. Her shoes were dark blue suede pumps. Her hair was pulled back and twisted in a crown braid. She also wore a pair of diamond halo earrings and held a navy clutch. He always thought she was breathtakingly beautiful but her evening attire seemed to accentuate her stunning features even more. 

As Tasha looked at Jason standing in front of her she couldn’t help but think about how good he looked. He was wearing a black notch lapel tuxedo suit, emerald-cut white diamond octagon cufflinks, and black Oxford dress shoes. From the time they met she thought he was very handsome but now, standing there in his suit, she found him even more good-looking. Though of course, she’d never admit it. 

“Melinda, hey” 

“I thought I’d stop by, see if you were almost ready,” Tasha said as she entered the room.

“Funny, I was just about to go over to your place and make sure you were at least out of the shower” he teased.

“Well,” Tasha glanced down at her outfit “I’m not wearing a bathrobe” she playfully replied.

“No, you definitely aren't,”  Jason smiled, causing Tasha to smile as well. 

“Speaking of the shower, let’s go in there.”

“The…shower?” he asked, an expression of confusion on his face.

“The bathroom actually, just for a moment.”

“Okay.” he responded, still confused by Tasha’s statement. Jason followed Tasha into the bathroom. After they entered she quickly turned on the shower.

“I thought you already had one of these.” Jason joked.

“We need to talk.” Tasha responded, a serious look in her eyes

“Oh and to talk you need the shower on?”

“Unless you want to be covered with bugs.”

“Bugs?” Jason repeated, still confused. After a second it dawned on him what Tasha meant. “Oh bugs, right. Too bad I forgot to pack my insect repellent.” 

Tasha kiddingly rolled her eyes and gave a slight smile. “As I was trying to say, I know technically you’ve been undercover already since we’ve met Dalmar and secured the deal. But tonight is going to be—“

“Hard. Difficult. Demanding.” Jason crossed his arms.

“Let’s just say not a walk in the park.” Jason nodded his head. Tasha continued, “in my experience at these events, where you have to remain undercover for a long period of time, new agents tend to slip up or lose focus. We already have a good deal of intel on Dalmar. From what we’ve seen, with his massive base of followers and speech about radical change, I suspect he’s planning on staging a coup.”

“Either that or win power first by legitimate means and then seize control of the entire country.”

“The how doesn’t matter, we just have to ensure that he doesn’t take over this country. And the only way to do that is to find out where the weapons are located. As of now the only way we have of learning this information is from Dalmar directly.”

“And who knows if we’ll see him again before Wednesday, when the weapons are supposed to be delivered.”

“Exactly, which makes tonight our only shot at getting the information we need, which means that you and I have to bring our ‘A’ game.”

“Understood.” 

“Good.” Tasha smiled and turned off the shower. She then remembered something. “Oh, sorry I almost forgot but would you give me a hand with this necklace? For some reason, I can’t get it to clasp.” She held the sapphire bar drop necklace out to him that she’d been holding for the past few minutes. 

“Sure.” He took the necklace from her and clasped it around her neck.

“Thanks.”

“It sure is a beautiful necklace,” Jason remarked.

“Thank you. It belonged to my grandmother.”

“Well, it looks wonderful on you. You look great by the way.”

“Thanks. Though I’ve worn this dress to a million other parties.” Tasha laughed. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Why thank you. I try my best.”  Jason gave a boyish grin.

“Just don’t let it go to your head.” 

“Okey-dokey.” They both smiled again. 

“We’d best get downstairs. The last thing we need is to be late.” Tasha began to head for the door.

“Right behind you.”

…..

The older man reached for the microphone that was placed in the car and spoke into it. "This is White Falcon. The targets have just left The Chardell.”

Red Sparrow’s voice echoed in response through the car speaker system. “Affirmative. Do not take action. Stay in your current position until further notice.”

“Understood.”

…..

As Tasha and Jason made their way to Dalmar’s house they each noted the drastic change in scenery. The vehicle traveled through the sprawling city, a large grassy plain dotted by small farms and villages, and up a windy road on Mt. Karanaj. Finally, the BMW pulled up in front of a mansion which was located about halfway up the mountain in the middle of a forest. The house was four stories tall with a basement as well. The house was in the style of a modern mountain home as parts of its walls were made of redwoods with the other large sections being made out of stone as well as cutouts and windows of glass. It also had sloped and flat rooflines, timber and steel details, and a massive porch and deck situated in the front of the house.

A doorman walked up to the car and opened the right passenger door. Tasha and Jason each said “Thank you” to the gentleman as they exited the BMW and headed for the entrance to the house. They entered through the arched doorway into the entryway and were greeted with a crowd of people gathered in the house, the women dressed in the finest designer dresses and jewelry and the men wearing their best tuxedos.

The inside of Dalmar’s home was even more elaborate than the outside. It had high vaulted ceilings, redwood beams that stretched from one end of the room to the other, ornate gold and onyx carvings in the walls, murals, and paintings from world-renown artists hung on the walls. The floors were made of the finest marble and numerous crystal chandeliers hung throughout the mansion. 

Almost as soon as they entered the home Tasha and Jason were greeted by Tarek.

“Melinda, Edward. Welcome.”

“Hello Tarek” Tasha responded.

“It’s good to see you again,” Jason added.

“Dalmar’s been anticipating your arrival. I’ll take you to him.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jason replied. Tarek led Tasha and Jason through the crowd to a gold-plated bifurcated staircase. They walked up a couple of flights of stairs and arrived at the second floor of the house. Tarek led them down a hall past several rooms and into a grand ballroom. The ceiling was adorned with frescoes that depicted famous moments in history. The walls and ceilings were overlaid with gold trimmings and carvings. A marble stone fireplace was in the center of the room and three gold and Swarovski clear crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The three of them made their way over to Dalmar who was standing by the fireplace, holding a glass of champagne in his hand. Tarek withdrew himself and headed downstairs to greet more arriving guests.

“Mr. Delucas, Ms. Tylerson” Dalmar greeted them.

“Dalmar”  Jason acknowledged him.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again Dalmar,” Tasha added.

“Davit. You can call me Davit” he smiled.

“Only if you call Melinda.”

“For you my dear, that I can do.” He outstretched his arms “So what do you think of the place?” 

“It’s amazing…Davit. Certainly one of the most elaborate and beautiful homes I’ve ever seen.”

“A man that can do this well for himself…it shows even more that we partnered with the right guy.”

Dalmar smirked and took a sip of his champagne. “Who am I to argue with that?”

Jason sensed an opportunity and spoke. “Speaking of our partnership. Melinda and I have been giving our deal a great amount of thought and we feel since we’ve supplied you with firepower we are entitled to be given some more information.”

“Information?” Dalmar furrowed his brow.

“Yes,” Tasha responded. “You’ve kept your plans for this operation rather close to the vest. Overall strategy. Location or locations of your armaments. We’re not in the habit of partnering in operations we know close to nothing about.”

“Trust me, for the sake of our success I can’t divulge much. My secrecy has been the only way I’ve gotten this far. What I will say is that you will be handsomely compensated. Whatever money you want. Whatever position you want. It will be yours” Dalmar took another swig from his glass.

“What do you mean by position?” Tasha pressed for more details. “A high position in society? To be honest we had our eye on a little more than that.” 

Dalmar chuckled to himself. “I must say Melinda you are quite—”

“Determined? Resolute?”

“Very persistent.”

“It’s how I’ve survived in this business as long as I have.”

“That I can respect. Likewise, I think you and your associate can understand my hesitancy to disclose sensitive information.”

Before either Tasha or Jason could respond Adrian came up to Dalmar and whispered in his ear. Dalmar whispered something to Adrian in reply and then turned back toward Tasha and Jason.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment there is an urgent matter I must attend to.”

“Of course,” Tasha replied. Dalmar exited the ballroom with Adrian by his side, leaving Tasha and Jason alone. Tasha slightly shook her head and sighed. “I should have known a man like Dalmar would try as far as possible to keep things close to his vest.”

“At least you tried.”

“Thankfully, we have the rest of the evening. Though I have a feeling it’s going to be a very long one.”

“I’m going to go get some sparkling water to drink. Do you want any?” 

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“Okay, then. I’ll be right back.” Jason made his way out of the ballroom and down to the first floor of the house. He walked through several rooms trying to find the bar. He then heard a voice from behind him. “Lost?” He turned to see Scarlett.

“Is it that obvious?” Jason laughed.

“Don’t feel bad it happens all the time to first-time guests. It is a pretty big house.”

“I was just looking for the bar.”

“Walk to the entryway, pass the staircase and go all the way to the back of the house, turn left and you’ll find it next to the kitchen.”

“Thanks, Ms…”

“Scarlett is fine.”

“Thanks, Scarlett.”

“Of course.”

Jason then left, followed Scarlett’s directions, and arrived at the bar. As he waited in line to get his drink something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Through a window in the back of the room, he spotted two of Dalmar’s security guards, talking to each other in hushed tones. Jason walked closer to the window to get a better look, careful not to draw any attention to himself. He saw the two guards talk for a few more moments before they started heading towards the woods. As they walked they stopped every so often to look back towards the mansion, He assumed to make sure no one was following them. Jason stood there going over in his mind what he should do. 

Tasha said we should get the info from Dalmar but so far he’s been nothing but…cagey. It’s not like we have a guarantee he’ll give us the necessary info. This could be our only opportunity to get the intel we need. I could also prove myself to Tasha, to Donovan, to the Agency. Show them I actually have what it takes as an agent. The last thing I want is my first mission to be a failure. Sure, it’s a bit risky, but this is a great opportunity. Who knows it might be our only chance of getting the information we need. 

Jason saw the two men walk farther and farther away in the distance and knew it was now or never. Pushing all remaining doubts out of his mind, Jason glanced around the room to make sure no one had noticed him watching the two guards. No one had. Jason quickly exited the room and walked back to the entryway. He discreetly slipped through the crowd and made his way outside. 

…..

Tasha leaned against the railing of the wooden deck, taking in the majestic view of the mountainside and night sky all around. The views reminded her of the times she and her parents used to go camping in the woods together when she was a little girl. They’d all snuggle up by the fire, tell scary stories, and roast marshmallows. At night she and her parents would lie on the ground and gaze at all the stars. Tasha would point out to them and name all the constellations and stars she knew, which was a significant amount. Her parents would laugh and joke that she spent all the time they stargazed talking her head off. Tasha smiled to herself as she thought of the memory. Suddenly, she saw two men walking in the distance near the edge of the woods. She then spotted another man sneaking behind them. Tasha recognized the outfit the first men were wearing as the uniform Dalmar’s security wore. The other man wasn’t wearing a uniform, rather a tuxedo. Tasha soon realized the man was Jason.

“Enjoying the view,” Dalmar remarked. Startled, Tasha quickly turned around and saw Dalmar standing on the deck. “Sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Tasha forced a smile. “No, it’s all right.” Dalmar walked closer to her. “The views here are…stunning,” she said as she looked over the landscape.

“Yes, they certainly are,” Dalmar replied, though Tasha noticed that he wasn't looking at the view but at her. 

“In the ballroom, I couldn’t help but admire the portrait of Tigran Hakobyan above the fireplace. It truly was a lovely piece of art.”

“General Hakobyan huh? So you know your Krudian History.”

“Some, though I’d be the first to admit that I’m no expert.” 

“That portrait is actually part of a collection by the famous Krudian artist Garine Sargayan that depicts famous Krudian generals and leaders. I just acquired the collection for tonight.”

“I would love it if you could show me the other portraits. You could tell me more about the men and women depicted. Their lives and conquests. I’ve always been fascinated by history. Besides I have no doubt that one day we’ll be adding your portrait to that collection.”

“I think I can manage that.” He offered her his arm. Tasha took it and the two of them began making their way back inside the ballroom.

As Tasha and Dalmar walked through the doorway she quickly glanced behind her and saw Jason disappear in the distance. She was relieved Dalmar hadn’t spotted him while on the balcony yet she still had an uneasy feeling she couldn’t shake. All she could do now was stick to her plan and hope for the best, though she expected the worst.

[joon-ipersgirl]

O5 - “the coveted client”

genre: mafia!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, mystery-thriller

pairing: namjoon x reader (f)

word count: 4.6k

warnings: cursing

summary: charismatic. beautiful. fearless without question. the ambitious team of seven young men in charge of spiral, downtown district's hottest new club, go above and beyond to provide 100% satisfaction to their clients.

after an eventful night out, you have no choice but to join the team for property damages greater than your intern salary. challenging a series of events that can no longer be left to coincidence, secrets threaten to burst at the seams as your professional and private life collide, and another - more sinister - debt is added to your total.

how far are you willing to go to pay back your pound of flesh? remember nothing is ever as it seems...

a/n: hello friends. here is part 5. leave a comment on how you're feeling about this story. i'm debating on discontinuing it from tumblr. thank you vi for reading as always. enjoy everyone :)

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

Training tonight @ 6pm. Don’t be late. You read the incoming text with a grin. Even in text, Suga is straight to the point. Shoving your phone back into your pants pocket, you leave the small kitchenette and head back to your small desk with a fresh cup of coffee in hand. You can still remember the looks of horror on the boys’ faces after Suga announced your immediate hire and it’s been two weeks since then. Was it wrong to take pleasure in their discomfort? Probably. Would you stop? Never.

“Is that a smile I spy on Miss Y/N Y/L/N’s face? The Devil must be here to collect his wife,” Paul exclaims as you sit back down. You laugh and prop your chin on your hand as you stare at him over your desktop screen.

“Can a woman not just be happy, Paul? Why does it have to come at the expense of a man?” you ask, a fake feign of hurt in your voice.

“Of course women can. Just not you,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. You shake your head, your smile still present on your face. Paul would not ruin your good mood.

“Ouch. That one might have hurt if I actually gave a fuck about your opinion of me,” you say while reorganizing the folders Manager Kim had dropped onto your desk from the day before.

“Y/N! Language!” Laura chides as she walks into your cramped office space. You roll your eyes and flip through the countless papers on your desk to order them in order of priority.

It’s honestly a miracle that none of you manage to murder each other while you work though it’s crossed your mind several times. JM Events and Affairs is a lucrative event planning company, but apparently could not afford to at least place its clerks in a room larger than 500 sq ft. Being entry level is a struggle most days, but eventually it would all pay off and you would become a successful event planning guru. For now though, you’re stuck here with the imbeciles you had to call co-workers.

“Manager Kim wants to see us in her office,” James says as he pokes his head around the wall of the cubicle, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. “Now,” he emphasised. He doesn’t wait for you to follow.

Paul shoots you and Laura a raised brow of confusion as you grab your notepads and file down the long corridor to Manager Kim’s well decorated office. She’s an older woman who’s been in the business longer than you’ve been alive. She credits her success to always staying ahead of the trend even if she didn’t create it, though most times she did. Her style is impeccable and she is meticulous as she is jovial. She’s, quite simply, a genius.

James has already taken a seat in one of the two plush grey chairs in front of her large, industrial sized desk. Rows of colorful binders are organized on her desk - no doubt detailing the new events the company is planning on hosting. Manager Kim enjoys the arts and it’s evident from the variety of paintings that hang on the wall. Today, she’s dressed in a powder blue knit sweater that matches whatever shade of nail polish she wears tucked into a pair of belted, high waisted wide leg pants. Her matching steel toe boots peek from underneath.

“Ah, good. You’re all here,” she begins as she sits behind her desk. You gesture for Laura to take the other available seat as you stand behind James and Paul stands next to you.

“We have a new client considering the company for an event. He’s very important for future networking opportunities so I expect the very best work from you.” Manger Kim usually wasted no time getting straight to the point and today is no different. “In fact, I’ve been monitoring your work very closely because I knew a client like this would be coming very soon,” she stands from her desk, navy blue binder in hand.

“What kind of event is he planning on having?” James inquires, his pen ready to take notes.

“He didn’t give specific details, but I’m sure if we can book him for this minor event, he’ll give us the main one. I’m quite sure of it.” Manager Kim snaps the binder shut and smiles at you all. Her white blonde bob is immaculate, not a single strand out of place.

“Should we start drafting ideas now?” Laura asks.

“Yes, I need several drafts from each of you by 4pm this afternoon. Please have them -”

“Are we just supposed to forget about the other events we have coming up? This guy didn’t even give us any major details for effective planning!” Paul interrupts. Manager Kim turns to look at him.

“Well Paul, if this client is of no importance to you -” Paul tries to backtrack, but to no avail as Manager Kim continues on “- I will not need your drafts or your portfolio.” She beams at him and Paul blanches. You grimace.

“As I was saying. Please have your portfolios and 4 drafts submitted to me by 4pm today. They should be in priority order and include everything from food to colors, entertainment and venues. Remember, the customers knows best -”

“- but finesse, finesse, finesse,” you, Paul, James, and Laura finish. Manager Kim should have that framed and put on her wall.

“Lovely. Goodbye,” she waves no longer looking at you, already lost in her grueling event editing process. You knew better than to loiter and the four of you head back to your small workspace.

“You really fucked up there Paul,” you say as you sit down at your desk.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Paul deadpans. He drops his head quite heavily on his desk. Laura winces.

“It’s okay, Paul. Maybe you can still show her something and -” she starts.

“You know Manager Kim isn’t the forgiving kind,” James interrupts. “There’s nothing more he can do,” he finishes nonchalantly.

“I hate to agree -” you begin.

“No you don’t,” Paul cuts in.

“- but James is right. Manager Kim is all about quick thinking and Paul failed that test. He’ll have another time to redeem himself, but he has to sit this one out. You should be happy, Laura. Less competition,” you say with a shrug and flip open your notepad to start drafting.

“Do you even have an empathetic bone in your body, Y/N?!” Laura hisses as she walks over to rest a hand on Paul’s shoulder.

“Sometimes,” you reply. “But everyone has to eat and I refuse to go to sleep on an empty stomach.”

Laura looks disgusted at your answer and she goes back to consoling Paul. James had left the conversation a long time ago and you admired his ability to ignore almost everyone around him. His coldness and detachment made him ruthless in an unsuspecting way and you’d learned the hard way not to underestimate him. Laura would learn eventually that while people thought it was the strong who survived, it was really those who were able to adapt to any environment that really thrived.

It’s after lunch that you receive an email from Manager Kim requesting for you to meet her in the lobby in fifteen minutes without any further explanation. You ask no questions and sit in the lobby, counting the people that come out of the elevator that were not Manager Kim. It’s already 1:24 pm and you’ve just started your third draft. Creating on a time crunch with no real guidance is no walk in the park and you try to keep your frustrations under control as you run through possible color combinations for the event.

“Y/N! There you are! Let’s go,” Manager Kim calls as she exits the building without checking to see if you follow.

You scramble to grab your purse and notepad, scurrying across the lobby in the high heels she insists you wear. Manager Kim is already seated in a company car as you yank the passenger side door open and fall into the seat.

“Very good,” she says and wastes no time pulling into traffic. You awkwardly try to secure your seatbelt as she zips through the small spaces between cars. Gods protect you from this woman and her hazardous driving.

“Where are we going?” you ask after you manage to situate your purse, coat, and notepad in your lap comfortably.

“Downtown. We’re meeting with the client.”

“We?!” you repeat, surprised.

“That’s what I said isn’t it? We’re also late,” she says as she makes a sharp right turn onto Matthews St. You barely miss hitting a cyclist and you send up another small prayer for you to make it to your destination safely.

“What about the drafts and portfolios? Aren’t you going to review -”

“Did I say I wasn’t?” She glances over at you from the corner of her eye and you close your mouth. You would not fail this test.

Manager Kim pulls over into an impossibly tight space in front of a large corporate building that reads Hastings and Lewis. A well established law firm if you remember correctly. It has to be at least 14 stories high and exudes the architect’s vision of simple modern design with large windows and exposed steel structural support. You both exit the car and you align your steps with hers, your heels clicking in time against the marble flooring as you enter the building. You say good afternoon to the doorman who simply nods at you in greeting.

“Hello. How can I help you?” the receptionist asks behind the raised desk, her head barely visible.

“Yes, hello. My name is Madeline Kim. I have an appointment to speak with Mr. Cavallero at 2:15pm.” You glance at the clock behind the receptionist. 1:53pm. You bite your lip to hold your outburst. To be early is to be on time, you could hear her say.

The receptionist smiles and nods as she searches her computer for the appointment. “Yes, here it is. Please have a seat. Someone will come and get you shortly.”

Manager Kim nods and perches in one of the available seats. You shake your head as you take a seat next to her, ignoring the itching in your palm to pull out your notepad and finish your drafts. You can tell by the way Manager Kim is sitting, not scrolling through her various binders or the calendar on her phone, this is a formal interview and you would not be the one to fuck it up. There would be time to finish the drafts. You would make sure of it.

“Ms. Kim?” A young man in a sharp, black suit stands in the center of the room smiling at you. 2:05pm. Right on time. “If you could follow me this way, please.” He turns towards the golden elevators and you follow behind him. “My name is Lewis Carlisle and I am the assistant to Mr. Cavallero,” he tells you as he pushes the button for the 10th floor. He sticks his hand out for each of you to shake.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Carlisle. Thank you for having us. This is my assistant, Ms. Amani Jung.” A lie, but you go with it.

“A pleasure to meet you,” you say with a bright smile and a firm handshake. He returns a smile of his own.

The elevator doors open and you follow Mr. Carlisle through the open workspace plan. This is the kind of place that promoted collaboration and teamwork. How could it not when the light airy feeling made you want to turn to your neighbor and ask them what they thought about a particular problem? JM Events and Affairs should have hired their interior designer. Maybe some of their employees wouldn’t struggle as much to meet their deadlines.

“Mr. Cavellero unfortunately will not be able to meet with you in person today -” Manager Kim’s smile tightens at his words “- but he did relay all of his expectations for the company brunch,” Lewis says as he holds open the door to a small meeting room. It’s in the center of the floor and the walls are made of pure plexiglass. It screamed expensive.

“How wonderful,” Manager Kim comments as she sits down and sets her purse down on the ground.

“Would either of you like something to drink? Water? A Coke?”

“ A water with light ice will do, thank you,” she says.

“I’ll take a bottle of water, please,” you reply and sit down beside Madeline. You discreetly pull out your design notepad along with your actual note-taking pad. Lewis nods and promises to return quickly with your drinks as well as the file containing the event details.

“You seem upset,” you comment while scribbling down the words brunch and law firm onto a new blank sheet for your fourth and final draft, your brain already conjuring up ideas.

“What makes you think that?” she asks, turning to you slightly as she too sets up her own note-taking station.

“Your smile failed to meet your eyes,” you say nonchalantly. From the corner of your eye, you see her break into a grin as Lewis enters the room, a cup of water in one hand, a bottle in the other, and a slim manilla folder tucked underneath his arm.

“Thank you again, Mr. Carlisle,” Manager Kim says with another bright smile, her hand in his as they shake hands again.

“You’re very welcome. I’m sure Mr. Cavallero will love what you put together for brunch,” he replies.

The meeting seems to be a success and you’d gained some much needed insight for your fourth draft while being Madeline’s “assistant”. You’re no longer paying attention as you exit the meeting room and head back towards the main elevator, Madeline and Lewis making polite conversation. You run over all of your drafts as you check the time discreetly. It’s 3:20pm. You would still have enough time to review your plans and work on the others files Manager Kim had assigned. You grin in victory.

“Mr. Cavallero!” Lewis exclaims as the elevator doors open.

The man is an older gentleman with neatly groomed hair and warm brown eyes. His coal grey suit is neatly pressed, a sharp crease present in the center of his pant leg. Definitely high quality and only dry-cleaned. His smile displays a set of perfect of white teeth. As he steps out of the elevator, holding it open so it wouldn’t close, the Armani Exchange watch glitters under the artificial lights.

“Mr. Carlisle. I assume this must be our event coordinators. I’m sorry I couldn’t meet with you. An emergency meeting was called for a major case,” he apologizes.

“I understand, Mr. Cavallero. Things are sometimes out of our control. No need to explain,” Madeline says with a smile as she enters the elevator. You follow behind her. “Mr. Carlisle was quite capable. I will have Miss Y/L/N send over the final details for the event by Friday for your approval.”

Mr. Cavallero’s eyes shift over to you and he smiles. “I look forward to it. Enjoy the rest of your day, ladies.” He let the doors go as Lewis tells you goodbye, the doors closing off the last of his words.

Manager Kim’s shoulders visibly relax as you descend to the lobby, but you make no comment. Though their conversation was brief, something had clearly transpired between them. Madeline seems to have noticed you watching her as she inhales and fixes her posture. She was back to business.

“I assume I don’t have to tell you not to say anything about this meeting?” she asks as she nods her thanks to the doorman, your steps once more in sync as you exit the high rise building.

“What meeting?” You say with a grin as you wait for her to unlock the company car.

The heat of the staircase in Spiral welcomes you again like a familiar friend after not seeing them for a long time. There is still the hustle and bustle of vendors dropping off boxes as the final details of the new designs are being put into place. People couldn’t wait to see how Spiral had fared after the robbery - which you still didn’t believe was actually what happened - and it seems like Friday’s opening night couldn’t come soon enough. Even Paul and Laura were considering stopping by after all of the shit they talked before.

You enter the main space and glance around, looking for one of the boys. Your purse bag is heavy from the event files and you head over to set it on top of the bar while resting your aching feet. Paul, Laura, and James could not believe you’d managed to turn in your drafts and portfolio at exactly 3:57pm after being gone so long; they would eventually learn to not underestimate you. You glance around again and notice a group of people sitting in one of the newly upholstered booths quietly chatting to one another across the way. Were these the new employees?

“Already lounging on the first day of the job, Y/L/N?”

You look to your left as you shrug off your heavy overcoat and see Honcho coming around the bar, a pile of clothes in his hands.

“Of course not. I just wasn’t sure who to report to,” you say with a shrug.

“Well, you’re looking at him,” he replies with a grin. You have to stop your mouth from falling open. Of all people, it had to be him? “What? Are you disappointed?” he asks as he continues across the room to the small group. You grab your stuff and walk over after him.

“No, I just thought -”

“Thought it would be Suga? As much as you like to charge in and demand shit sweetheart, Suga is a very busy man and doesn’t have the time to appease you all the time. Sit,” he commands with a jerk of his head. You narrow your eyes at him, but obey. It’s only then that you notice the other five persons staring at you in confusion as you bickered. You swallow the urge to huff in annoyance as Honcho begins speaking.

“Thank you all for being on time. Congratulations on being hired. I’m Honcho and I’ll be your manager at Spiral. You’ll meet the rest of the guys later. These are your uniforms. We have a strict adherence uniform policy, so please do your best to be dressed in your proper attire. If you have long hair, it will be tied up or back in a bun or ponytail. Ladies, we ask that you wear red lipstick to match our colors. We’ve also given you options for bottoms: a skirt or pants.” Honcho holds up a pair of each for demonstration. “Whatever you decide to wear is up to you. We only ask that all your shoes are closed toed and we would prefer no sneakers; we’re trying to sell a vibe here. Any questions?” He doesn’t wait for anyone to speak up. “No? Great. If you could introduce yourselves to each other, that’d be fantastic.” He looks over to the boy on the other side of the booth.

“Uh, hi. My name is Micah. I’m 21 and recently graduated from college.” He tosses up a small wave before pushing his glasses further up his nose. He’s narrow shouldered and naturally blonde. Cute, if you will. They would chew him up and eat him alive if he continued to be so timid.

“Hey, I’m Luca. I’m 23 and a graduate student at Oberman.” Luca definitely fit the vibe Spiral os going for with his dark hair and dark eyes. He would have no problem wooing the numerous women who would walk through the door. A great business move in your opinion.

“Hey y’all, Savannah here. I’m 22 and working part time while in school.” Another blonde hair, blue-eyed coworker. How fun. The bubbles in champagne had nothing on her as she beams at the rest of you around the table.

“I’m Jack. I’m 24 and I guess I’m here to save up for a new car? Need some extra cash,” he finishes with a bashful grin. The girl next to you snorts. Jack is a big man with broad shoulders and you would assume he was hired as additional security based on his size. Imagine a man as big as him bringing over your strawberry mojito? Exactly.

“Giselle. 21. Law student. Loans have to pay themself off somehow right?” Luca laughs and Giselle smiles. Yuck. If you weren’t already sick of the office romance - if you could call it that - between Laura and Paul at JM, you were going to have to endure another one here? Gods be with you.

“Y/N Y/L/N. I’m 22 and an event planner,” you say nonchalantly and turn to Honcho, waiting for his next instructions.

“Not going to tell us the reason you’re here?” he smirks and you roll your eyes.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“I’d like a lot of things, Y/L/N. In fact, I can think of a few -”

“Gross,” you say, interrupting him, your face turned down in disgust. He laughs.

“Always think someone wants something from you, huh?” He shakes his head, still chuckling. “Everyone, go get changed and I’ll explain your duties to you once you get back.”

The six of you ease out of the booth, grabbing your uniforms as you head to the restrooms to get changed. As you follow Savannah and Giselle, you can’t help but scan the hallway for anything you could have missed as the memory of your second night here flashed across your mind. There had to be something that you were missing.

“I hope these uniforms are cute,” Giselle grumbles as she steps into an empty stall.

“I’m sure it’ll look great,” Savannah chirps.

You step into your own individual stall and drop your stuff on the floor. Slipping out of your heels, you step out of your slacks and tug off your blouse. You hold up the uniform shirt. It’s a plain black t-shirt with the letters in red spelling out Spiral in a spiral formation. The pants are made of a faux leather shiny material. They look tight and the sides have cut outs with strings laced in them from hip to ankle. The skirt is exactly the same. You sigh. This was really the vibe?

You dress quickly and tug on your Doc Martens. Honcho would have to wait for the lipstick. Exiting the stall, you see Savannah trying to adjust the strings on her pants while chewing her lip.

“Is it supposed to be this exposed?” she asks, checking herself out in the mirror.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” Giselle says exiting the stall and tugging down the hem of her skirt.

“So much for equality in the workplace huh?” you say. The two of them laugh.

The three of you return to the main space, Micah, Luca, and Jack already back at the booth with Honcho. Their eyes widen when they see you.

“Looking good ladies,” Honcho calls with his traditional large grin. Of course he would comment.

“Yeah, yeah. What’s next?” Giselle asks as she wiggles her way back into the booth, trying to cover her modesty.

“We’re going to take a tour of the facilities, get you acquainted with the space, and fill out the last pieces of paperwork. We’ll also have you help with some of the decorations; don’t worry, you’re going to get paid for this session. Then, we’ll see you on Friday for your shifts,” he replies. “Alright, let’s go.”

Again, he doesn’t wait for you to follow. As you’re setting your belongings down to catch up with the rest of the group, you spot Jin heading towards the bar. Just the man who you needed to see.

“Are you coming Y/N?” Savannah calls to you as the group heads up to the second level.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there!” you lie, knowing damn well you’re going to ambush Jin. You pretend to search for something in your purse as you double-check the group is far enough on the second level to not notice you not following before you head over to Jin.

“Well hello Jin,” you say as you wiggle your way onto a bar stool.

“Y/N,” he says with a chuckle. “What can I do for you?”

“Just answer a few simple questions.” you smile as you rest your chin on your palm.

“Alright,” he replied skeptically.

“Where’d you move the body?” The bottle of Aperol nearly slips out of his grip as he turns to look at you.

“Excuse me?” There’s no laughter in his voice.

“The body of the man in the bathroom,” you clarify. “How’d you get it to disappear like that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replies, busying himself with stocking up the bottles of alcohol under the shelf. He won’t meet your eyes. You know he’s lying; his body language says it all.

“Oh come on, Jin. You can tell me. It’s not like I’m going to go to the cops or anything,” you say nonchalantly. “Clearly they didn’t seem to care since they weren’t that thorough with their questions.”

“Y/N, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. You were concussed remember? Maybe you imagined whoever you’re talking about.” He glances up at you. You roll your eyes.

“Really Jin? You’re going to use the concussion line on me? You knew that I shot him; I told you that. I just want to know where you put him and why there were no reports of a missing man from the incident on the news at all,” you say with a shrug. He finally turns to face you.

“Maybe nobody reported him missing. Maybe he slipped out after you ducked behind the bar. What does it matter? Look, it was a traumatic night. For all of us. I don’t know anything about whatever or whoever you’re talking about. Hell, you probably don’t know either. Please, don’t make this working relationship anymore difficult for yourself than it already is. Just come in, keep your head down, and head out.” His hands are splayed out on the bar and the distance between you has closed significantly from when he’d started talking as he stares you down. “Worry about the things that concern you, like repaying your debt.” His tone is sharp and final. There’s no friendliness in his face either.

“Y/L/N! You’re not getting paid to sit on that pretty little ass of yours. Get up here now!” Honcho yelles down to you over the railing of the second floor balcony.

Ignoring Honcho, you cock your head and look at Jin again, thinking. “Okay Jin. Heard you loud and clear.”

You hop off the bar stool and adjust your skirt. You say nothing further as you head upstairs. It seems as though Jin would be of no help to you, but honestly, it didn’t matter. If it didn’t concern you, why was Jin lying about knowing what man you were talking about? Why had Suga tried to discreetly cover up that paper in his office the other day? What was really going on at Spiral? You’re determined to figure it, even if you have to work extra hours to do it. What happens in the dark must eventually come to light.

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joon-ipersgirl, 2020