#and I’m worried he won’t be able to hack long distance and he’ll leave me next term

[darkacademiaaa]

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#you can ignore this if you like I just want to rant #I think I’m in love with him #I’ve been stopping myself from saying it so much recently #it just feels right #but it’s too early and I don’t think I should say it first #if he felt this way he would have said by now #ultimately I don’t think he’s as serious about me as I am about him #I think he sees me in a perpetual state of girlfriend #and I’m worried he won’t be able to hack long distance and he’ll leave me next term #which will destroy me obviously

[shreddedparchment]

Merry Christmas, I Love You

12/25/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader          Word Count: 6,670

Warnings: Language, violence, blood, angst, pining, jealousy, fluff

A/N: So this was initially supposed to be a Holidays-non-specific fic...but as I kept writing, it was feeling forced so I turned it into a Christmas fic because it felt better that way for writing. I’m so sorry! Anyway, I hope you like this one. I always enjoy writing for Bucky. Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays! xoxo

Things have never been easy for you. Family. Friendships. Relationships. Nothing, except for work.

Somehow, you’ve been able to come in, day after day, with a smile on your face, no obstacles set before you that upset the delicately crafted balance here at the Tower.

That is until the morning you walk in and something terrible—something that you could never have anticipated—is sitting on the edge of your desk wearing rough deep-sea colored jeans, organically weathered around the nicest, most bitable ass you’ve ever seen.

Okay, so maybe it’s been a while since you’ve gotten any and any semi-attractive person now-a-days seems to get your engine revving, but this guy…this man is sin incarnate and you nearly lose your step as you slide to a halt by your office door.

“What are you?” You ask, sputtering the words out senselessly only to have the Sin turn and look at you with clear blue eyes. Ice blue. A little gray. A little piece of heaven staring at you out of a brooding face, topped with what looks like freshly cropped burnt chestnut hair.

You’ve seen it long. You admired it from a safe distance. Now it’s gone but in its place is sheared perfection. He looks like a new man.

“Sorry?” He asks, his voice like chocolate fudge, slow and oozing and coating your insides with thick, sweet…oh man, you’re a goner.

“Um…” You shut your eyes, shaking it lightly to clear your head.

Not looking at the hot man helps.

Wait…you’re stupid. You know exactly who this hot man is. You just didn’t expect to ever see him this close and, in your office, sitting on your desk casually lounging around like some beefed up supermodel.

“I-I meant, what are you doing…here?” You clear your throat, clutch your legal pads a little bit closer and finally open your eyes.

He’s standing now, hands shoved into his pockets, muscled chest straining against the black t-shirt he’s chosen to torture you with, the burgundy leather jacket doing little to hide his muscle.

Who the fuck dressed him?

“Oh.” He says. “I’m working here. With you.” He explains and you nearly choke.

You start coughing again, hacking up a lung as your face burns and your chest nearly caves in.

Bucky because you know very well who he is, hurries towards a small bottle of water you keep handy on your desk and takes it to you.

You take it, try to wheeze out a thank you but cough harder. You gasp, then take a drink as he stares at you, eyes narrowed with polite concern.

“Fighhhne.” You wheeze, waving a hand at him gently to reassure him. “I'm fine.”

He nods straightening up. Just noticing how tense he was, you feel your neck burn.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in here.

“Are you hot?” You continue to wheeze, breathless with embarrassment and a strange and sudden desire. “It’s hot in here.”

Moving around him you move to the window behind your desk, a large glass panel in the glass wall of your office. You slide it open and a rush of chilly New York winter air nips at your skin.

Finally, your head is clear. Sharp. Your wits back in place. You turn to him and he’s shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“What do you mean you’ll be working here?” You ask, a need for clarity rising.

“Fury sent me here.” Bucky shrugs. “I guess Sam’s got the go ahead to start up a team and he wants you to head home base.”

You let that sink in, trying to wrap your head around going from administration duties to somewhat field duties.

“You’re gonna be my handler.” He nearly whispers, voice dropping a bit. Why is he telling you this like it’s a secret?

“Oh, just your handler?” Another voice quips but you don’t have to wonder whose it is. This voice you know.

“Sam?” You call and he comes around the small partition in front of your door.

With that charming smile, the one that has all the ladies in accounting falling to pieces with its easy confidence and promise of romance, Sam gives you a nod and stops beside Bucky.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s good to see you again. You look good. How’ve you been?” He asks, eyeing up Bucky who looks at him and shrugs.

“I’m fine.” You nod, tempted to smile. “Thanks. So, you’ll both be under my umbrella?” You nod.

“There’s a few more but yeah, it’ll be mostly me and Buck. Who best to watch over us? I thought we’d be safest in your capable hands.” Sam flirts.

“Sam…” You huff a small laugh, relaxing a bit now that there’s a buffer. Not that he’s much of a buffer. Sam is fucking hot too and if the window weren’t still hurling frozen wind at you, you’d be overheating.

Sam chuckles-“What?” Sam says—and you look out the window. There’s a small smack but when you look back up at them, nothing has changed much save for Bucky standing with his arms crossed instead of his hands in his pockets.

“…that is my name.” Sam insists, his lips curled up into a playful smirk while the man beside him broods a bit more.

“Well, first off, if I’m going to be your handler, I’m gonna need you to be a bit more professional.” Smiling you move to your desk and deposit your notepads, running a finger across the notes from your latest office meeting.

You won’t need these anymore.

“I’ll do my best, but it’s hard to concentrate on work when my handler’s just so pretty.” He teases.

You huff a small laugh, shaking your head. “You don’t change, do you?”

Sam looks down at your desk, his eyes suddenly darkened by sorrow.

You feel bad but you won’t linger.

“I’m glad.” You assure him. “Sometimes I forget how to laugh.”

And like a switch has been turned, Sam’s smile is back.

“Don’t worry. Together, I think the three of us can give the world a few reasons to smile again.” Sam nods, sincere.

You look at Bucky who stands with a frown twisting his handsome face.

“I look forward to working with you, Agent Barnes.” You offer a small smile, hoping to ease his grimace.

He looks up at you, startled, as if he’s just realized you’re there. Great. There goes that crush. Another one that doesn’t know you’re there.

“Bucky.” He says. “Please.”

“Okay.” You smile a little wider and his eyes finally focus. “Bucky. I look forward to getting to know you.”

He stares at you and he sizes you up. That small frown never leaves his face which only makes you wonder whether he disapproves of what he sees.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck.

This is not good.

As Bucky looks you over, from the tips of your red pumps to the collar of your soft gray business suit—a silk red camisole peeking out from underneath—he knows that he’s fucked.

The moment you smiled, frazzled by Sam’s stupid flirting, he knew that you’re trouble.

That look of curiosity on your pretty face…what is he getting himself into?

Bucky likes you.

He likes you a lot.

“Bucky?” You call to him, your voice wrapping around his name just so that it makes his heart pound.

“Do you even have any training in the field?” He asks, kicking himself internally that he’s on the defensive now but he wasn’t expecting this.

He wasn’t expecting to come in here to find you, a beautiful woman, clumsy and real. There’s nothing fake about you so far and Bucky can see the goodness that you radiate. He wasn’t expecting Sam to come in here, flirting shamelessly, making you laugh.

Rude bird.

You blink, slightly taken aback.

“She’s not gonna be out in the field, Buck.” Sam defends you, and that grates Bucky more.

“It’s still something she should have.” Bucky argues stupidly. Why can’t he shut his mouth up?

“I-” You begin, sounding saddened and Bucky could leap out of that window behind you if it would end this inescapable awkwardness he’s dredged up. “I don’t.”

You shake your head then bite your lip. Thinking hard while Bucky fights the urge to touch your mouth.

“I’m actually not sure why Fury sent you to me. I’ve never…I mean, I did go into training for S.H.I.E.L.D. when I first started here a few years ago but I failed out of the academy. I couldn’t get myself to do what needed doing and I—this was a better fit for me.” You bristle. “So, no. I don’t have any field training. But I’ll do my best.”

Before he can open his mouth and make this worse, Bucky sighs, exchanged a look with Sam, then turns and leaves.

As he pushes your office door open, he can hear Sam reassuring you.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. He’ll come around. We’ll make a great team.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Your voice is flooded with gratitude.

Fucking Sam.

~~~~~~~~~~

You watch from your seat in the old crumbling building on two ten-inch displays as Bucky and Sam rush into the abandoned bunker. It’s not so abandoned now, filled with a terror cell known as the Maw. They’ve killed sixty people in four days and there will be no taking of any prisoners today.

“Are we sure he’s here?” Bucky asks, the feed from his body cam shows him sliding along the floor under a small break in the outer wall. Immediately inside there are five enemies.

As he stands, they fire, and you grip the edge of the fallen and splintered door that is your makeshift desk until he’s taken the entire group out. Not one left alive.

“Yes.” You answer, remembering his question. “He’s here.”

As Bucky breaks into a run down a long dark hallway, you focus on Sam’s cam and watch as he circles up over the building.

“Sam, do you see anything?” You check, knowing that he must be running his thermals.

“Just a whole bunch of cowards.” He quips. “There. Bucky, third basement down. There’s a wall weak enough to break through right behind them.”

You look at Bucky’s cam and it changes position. He’s running faster, sliding from doorway to doorway before he throws himself within one as gunfire rains down on him from an open door at the end.

You slide the big heavy laptop you use for recon over and pull up all the schematics of the bunker you’d found in your research of the building.

“Y/N, find me a way down.” He grunts, returning fire when he can.

“Already on it.” You inform him, sneaking a glance as he slides out from his hiding spot to one closer to the shooter.

His hallway ends in a T and he’s on the left-hand side.

“There.” You say, “Down that hallway to the right, straight ahead. There’s an elevator shaft that should be non-operational. You can slide down straight to the third floor and round back towards the wall Sam saw.”

Bucky is already running. As he approaches the shooter, he holds up his metal arm to block three bullets. There’s a click—an empty clip—then Bucky pounces, twisting the man’s arm to break it then he practically throws him into the wall. The man falls to the ground, but Bucky doesn’t stop.

He’s sliding on the ground towards the elevator shaft as he approaches and throws his metal hand out to dig his fingers into the wall. He slides down one floor before he releases and freefalls, then at the last moment he grabs the top lip of the floor he’s going to and swings himself in.

“Down the hall, two rights, and you should be against that weak wall.” You tell him. “Sam, status?”

You look at the other display and watch as Sam dips and dives, gunfire lighting up his cam. He throws his shield and it bounces off one thug to hit another then magnetically flies back up to Sam.

“There are civilians in that holding cell.” Sam realizes, and without a second thought he flies for it. “Six guards. I’ll take them out quick.”

“Get them to safety. I’ve got these guys.” Bucky says confidently as he rounds the last right and races for the back wall to the inner room of the final floor.

“Bucky…” You begin, fear taking root in your heart as you think about the fact that Sam will be too busy with those civilians to come quickly.

This isn’t your first time out with them. You, Sam, and Bucky have been together for a year now. One whole year.

Somehow, you have been an asset to their team. Sometimes Sharon comes along, sometimes there’ll be a few others. But at the end of the day it is always you, Sam, and Bucky.

You’ve been there when Sam broke his arm. When Bucky dislocated his shoulder. When they were both shot. When Sam wouldn’t wake up for three days. You’ve been there for every after mission dinner. You’ve been there for every holiday spent in safe houses and hospitals.

Bucky and Sam had even bought you a cake when your birthday came around and all three of you ate it on the tower roof, both men still in mission garb, sitting on the ramp of the jet.

Through it all, though you always worry, there is only one thing that makes you lose focus. One thing that has brought you to Fury’s office several times to resign because you can’t do this job. Not like this. Not when you’re this distracted half the time.

When Bucky’s in danger, your heart stops. When he’s injured, you’re nearly in tears. You’d cried that first time he was shot, but luckily Sam was shot too so really, you managed to pass it off as sorrow for both of them.

The time Sam wouldn’t wake up, those tears were just for Sam…but Bucky was pretty torn up about it and you’d offered what comfort he was willing to accept which wasn’t much.

Bucky has kept you at arm’s length this entire time. Welcoming enough to make you feel like part of the team, but far enough that you’re pretty sure he still think you’re absurdly underqualified for this job.

You’ve watched him with his other teammates, even the ones that randomly come by, and he’s not with them like he is with you.

Watching him team with Sharon or T’Challa, you can see the difference.

He likes them. He doesn’t simply tolerate them.

Despite this disappointment, it does not fail. Every time that he’s taking on too much, your focus goes straight to him.

You pull his cam footage closer just as the wall in front of him explodes.

Cement and iron rain down on him and the hallway, rumbling as the building groans with the loss of support.

You stand, pushing your chair back hard as you clutch the display closer.

“Bucky!” You call, seeing nothing but darkness. “Bucky? Get up.”

Voice rising with panic, you blink hard, trying to see through the cloud of dust in the darkness in the screen.

“What happened?” Sam demands, returning fire at the thugs he’s facing.

“The wall exploded out.” You say, quiet because you can’t breathe.

There is no movement. Bucky isn’t moving.

You don’t give yourself enough time to think.

“Is he okay?” Sam asks, but he’s too busy to do anything about it.

So, you do.

Flipping open your bag, you pull out the handgun you’d been issues when you took this job and run. Down along the stairwell from your safe room. Across the street towards the bunker, along the small alleyway beside it to the back where the original entry point had been made.

You keep an eye on the display you’ve brought with you and watch as the rubble shifts. You see a gleam of dark metal and see that it’s Bucky pulling himself out of the pile, but then there are more glints of sleek black metal.

Guns. At least eight of them, all pointed at Bucky.

“Fuck.” You push yourself faster, ignoring the way your legs protest.

Your tac pants tear as you finally enter the building, catching on exposed reinforced metal piping and wood.

You’re not even careful about your running. You don’t look around for enemies. You don’t care. You have one goal and that’s all that matters.

You enter the T and race for the elevator shaft. A final glance at your display tells you that they’ve got Bucky kneeling in the rubble he’d been buried under. All of the other thugs in that room have their guns pointed at him, one man stands a little taller than the rest. No gun in his hand, but a long serrated knife. He’s talking, smirking down at Bucky as he squats down before him to run that knife’s point along the seam of Bucky’s metal arm.

Dropping the display, you reach for your belt hoop and pull from it a compact grapple. You shove it into the floor by the open elevator shaft and throw yourself down without hesitation.

You fall quickly, reaching the third floor in less than five seconds.

You have to release the cable in order to stop and you use the momentum of your fall to swing yourself into the doorway.

Landing hurts but you’re on your feet, racing down the hallway as fast as you can.

Instead of taking two rights however, you take one right, then a left.

They aren’t expecting you to barrel in through the door they’d been facing. Their only defense had been on the wall Bucky tried to go through.

So, when you shove the door open, you aim and kill one, two, three guards with quick precision shots.

That’s when they turn, and you run to take cover behind a tall steel shelf.

Bullets bounce off the metal as they land near your head.

On the other side, in the room that you can no longer see, you can hear Bucky fighting. His metal arm deflecting bullets and slamming these thugs into the floor.

The shooting at you stops so you peek out and aim. You get one of them in the leg, the other in the gut. You’re about to fire again, killing a fourth, when a loud pop and a burning sensation pierces your arm.

You cry out, and duck back behind the shelving out of sight.

“Y/N!” Bucky shouts, the scuffle between him and his enemies increasing in pace.

There are fewer grunts and they’re moving closer.

You groan, holding your hand over the wound in your arm but force yourself to peek out again, this time aiming where the shot that hit you came from.

Distracted by Bucky’s approach, the man behind the name of Maw doesn’t see you aiming at his head.

Before you can fire, your arm falls, losing strength and the shot goes through his neck.

He sputters and chokes on his blood, falling to his knees just as Bucky finishes with the last of his goons. He moves to the man and with one swift flick of his arm, the man’s neck breaks, and he falls to the ground, unmoving.

Your eyes are on Bucky, scanning him for injury as you press your hand harder against your own wound.

He’s okay. You gush stupidly. He’s not hurt.

A small scratch on his cheek. Otherwise, he’s fine.

And he’s suddenly at your side.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asks, voice hard and angry.

“No.” You tell him.

“Let me see.” He pushes your hands away and stares down at the hole in your arm.

As blood gushes out, he reaches down to his belt to pull a heavy but thin cord that he begins to wrap high on your arm. It hurts. It pinches. It’s too tight.

“Ow.”

“No shit.” Bucky growls at you. “Sit still.”

You do, not having realized that you were squirming.

“What the hell did you come in here for?” He demands.

“You were in trouble.” You explain, leaning your head back to watch him finally tie the tourniquet. “And Sam was busy.”

“I coulda handled it.” He’s clenching his jaw, flexing the muscle in his anger as he reaches down to pull what looks like a small syringe from a small pouch on his belt.

“It’s okay to need help.” You tell him calmly, loving the way his brow is furrowed in concentration.

“I don’t need your help. Not here.” He chastises, pushing the tip of the syringe into your wound to press in what looks like powder. It hurts but you’re starting to not feel much of anything.

He tosses the syringe away and begins to wrap up your wound with a small roll of bandage.

“This isn’t the right kind. We’ll have to get you back to the Tower quick.” Bucky sighs.

“Why don’t you like me?” You ask him, feeling woozy and finding that filter that you usually use strange absent.

Bucky frowns, then gets up and reaches down to help you up.

He tucks you underneath his arm and supports most of your weight as he leads you out, refusing to answer your question.

“Y/N okay?” Sam’s voice filter in through your comms.

“Yeah, she’s fine. Lost a bit of blood though. Faster we get her back the better.” Bucky says, cutting you off before you can answer.

“Just getting these last few civilians out. I’ll meet you at the jet. Two minutes.” Sam promises.

The trek up the stairs is exhausting. You’re dizzy and tired. The adrenaline is wearing off and you find yourself leaning against Bucky more and more the higher you climb.

When the freezing air hits you outside, your head clears for a moment and you remember that you ran out here without your coat.

It’s freezing.

You look up with your mouth wide open. It’s snowing!

“It’s snowing.” Way to go, brain.

Bucky frowns as he looks up and with you struggling to keep up, he stops. He wraps his arm more securely around your back then with his other, quickly dips to pick you up.

You groan when the movement jostles your arm but lay your head on his shoulder anyway.

“I like it here.” You whisper, stupidly talking without thinking.

You place your hand on Bucky’s chest where you can feel his heart pounding. Absolutely thrumming against his ribcage.

“Were you scared?” You ask him, wondering if Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, can really get scared.

For a moment he says nothing. Then, “Yes.”

You nod. “It’s okay.”

“Stop talking.” He chastises, just as your body is engulfed in warmth.

Not even two second later, your entrance into the jet is followed by the soft whoosh of Sam’s wings and then his feet as he climbs in and moves towards the pilot’s chair.

“She okay?” Sam asks, glancing at you as Bucky settles you into a seat and straps you in.

“She’s a little delirious but she’s okay. Should be fine as long as we get her back soon. She needs stitches. Bullet went clean through.” Bucky says, focused on your arm as the jet pulls away.

“I like you.” You tell him. Blinking slowly as his fingers stop fumbling with your bandage.

He looks at you, ice sapphire eyes burning into your own with a million unasked questions.

“Why do you hate me?” You wonder, feeling sleepy.

“I don’t hate you.” Bucky explains, brow furrowed with subdued anguish.

“I like you.” You tell him again. “I want you to like me back.”

Bucky opens his mouth but shuts it again, looking over at Sam who seems to be intentionally ignoring the two of you.

“Sometimes I think about what it would be like to kiss you.” You continue, words slurring together as the shock of being shot catches up with you. “Kiss me.”

You see him leaning up towards you just as your vision turns black.

~~~~~~~~~~

Recovery is a bitch.

You hate having to wear a sling. Especially because you’re decommissioned from field duty for a while. Bucky and Sam don’t stick around. They make sure you’re okay and then they go off on their next mission.

Sharon is brought in to help. She takes your job.

You watch two days later as they come into the small shared space in Tony’s old lab where you had set up home base for them. They walk in and head straight for the mission board—a high tech computer screen with touch—and sift through a few open cases.

They don’t seem to see you sitting on the sofa by the kitchen, wrapped up in a blanket, sipping hot cocoa.

You watch them, taking in their dynamic. Sam is just as playful with Sharon as he is with you. They seem to have a deeper connection though. A shared sorrow. All three of them do.

The biggest difference is Bucky’s demeanor. He smiles more. He’s laughing at something Sharon said.

Your chest aches. Wondering if maybe this is what’s for the best? He seems to be more at ease with Sharon there to support them in their missions. She’s got the skill.

You’ve read her file. Part of it. The parts you were allowed to read.

She’s amazing.

Much more qualified.

“You’re coming, right?” Bucky asks her, watching her as she stares at the board.

“To what?”

“The Christmas party.” Bucky tells her. “It’s tomorrow night. We should be back by then.”

“Why would I come to the Christmas party?” She asks, a laugh in her voice.

“Because it’ll be fun.” Bucky reasons, then turns to Sam and nods at her. “Right?”

“Yeah. Pepper’s got Happy planning the whole thing. We might have to surrender our IDs when we come in and consent to a pat down but there’ll be plenty of booze. Music. Dancing.” Sam teases her the same way he teases you.

She laughs. “I’ll think about it.”

“It’ll be more fun if you come.” Bucky continues, reaching out finally to pull on her sleeve. “Come.”

You curl up a bit more, shrinking into the cushions of your seat. Hating the way your chest feels like it’s caving in.

Of course, he’s going to like her. She’s Sharon Carter! Great niece to Peggy Carter. A legend in her own right.

This must be why he never brought up what you’d said in the jet. You were slurring and mostly out of it, but you knew what you were saying.

You’d finally told him. You like him. You do.

And he hasn’t said anything about it.

You shift too far to the left and your arm grazes against the cushions beside you.

You gasp, shocked by the pain.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice calls out.

No.

You blink hard, hoping they look clear and not like you’re pining for Bucky Barnes.

Sam rounds the sofa and smiles down at you.

“Why are you hiding out here, making no noise? One gunshot wound and you think you’re a world class spy?”

You say nothing. You’re in hell. You just look up at him.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, moving to sit beside you.

“Y/N is here?” Sharon asks, moving towards you.

Fuck.

When she comes into view, you can see she’s wearing a standard S.H.I.E.L.D. body suit. Winter edition so it’s a little thicker. White pants and top. Gray straps to holster her guns. That’s empty right now.

“Hey, long time no see.” She smiles at you kindly and you force a smile in return.

Sharon is nice. You’ve always like Sharon. She’s kind and friendly.

“Yeah.” You say stupidly because it’s the only thing you can get your throat to work out.

“Heard you were shot saving Bucky’s ass?” She offers, looking over her shoulder at Bucky who finally moves towards you.

You shake your head once, that smile still plastered in place.

“Are you not feeling well?” Sam asks, reaching out to place his hand on your back.

You shake your head, letting the grimace that your poor heart is feeling seep out as discomfort in your arm.

“I’m gonna go…” You tell him, voice quiet and strained.

As you get to your feet, Sam helps you. You don’t see Bucky.

You know that he’s there, standing somewhere behind you, but you don’t want to turn to see him. What’s the use?

“You need help getting to your room?” He asks, but you shake your head. “Okay.”

You move past him and don’t look back. You don’t stop until you’re in your room, door shut behind you.

Moving into the bathroom you wash your face with your one hand, trying to clear your mind.

As you shut off the water you hear your bedroom door click shut.

“Sam?” You call and follow the sound back into your room.

But there’s no one there. It stands empty, just as it was when you came in.

As you move to take a seat on your bed, your eyes spot a small bottle of pills on your bedside table.

You grab them, quickly reading the label because these are not your pills.

Take two tablets every eight hours as needed for pain.

Rising to your feet, you move for your door, throw it open and look down the hallway to catch Sam to thank him before he can get too far but your voice catches in your throat as you watch wide shoulders and a glinting dark metal arm walk away from you.

With his delivery done, Bucky leaves you without a word.

~~~~~~~~~~

Wincing you slip off your sling and reach down to straighten your dress. It’s short. Shorter than you’d thought it was, but it’s pretty, with long loose sleeves that cinch at the wrist. Dazzling white with silver sparkles stitched into the soft fabric.

You’d seriously considered sitting out this party. You aren’t exactly in the mood. Not happy. Not comfortable. Not in the Christmas spirit.

Rejected, your mood has taken a sour turn. You’re mostly sad all the time which is hard enough but with the pain in your arm, it feels worse than it actually is.

However, you’ve never missed a Christmas or Holiday party since you’ve started working here and you’re not about to start now.

When you finally arrive, the party is already in full swing.

Pepper and Happy have outdone themselves, turning the largest ballroom in the Tower into the prettiest winter wonderland that you’ve ever seen.

All the tables are covered in gleaming silver and white tablecloths, decorated with assorted bobbles in silvers, whites, pale blues, and grays. White lights are strung up along the ceiling and left to dangle in carefully placed icicle patterns, more clear baubles with shining white lights at the center adorn the spaces between the tables where people chat and eat merrily with golden forks, knives, and spoons.

There is no red holly or green garland, but all around the room you can see the soft green and white splash of mistletoe hidden in small nooks and over random spots in the room.

“Y/N!” You hear Sam’s voice before you see him and search the room for him. “Over here!”

He waves at you from across the room near the large metal door that leads out into the hallway that’s lined with an endless stretch of conference rooms.

He looks dapper in a velvet black tux, silver bowtie around his neck.

You smile at him and move towards him but as you cross the table comes into full view and you see that Bucky is sitting beside him to his left—looking sinfully good in a navy tux, white dress shirt, and a black bowtie. Beside Bucky sits Sharon, in a red satin dress with capped sleeves and a round neckline.

Her dress, as you approach and she stands, you can see if floor length and she looks absolutely beautiful.

“Wow.” You tell her. “Sharon, you look amazing.”

Sharon blushes. “Me? Anything looks good when all you wear is tac gear. Look at you! You’re stunning!”

You almost look at Bucky but stop yourself just as your head tilts.

“Have you eaten yet?” Sam asks, moving around the table to pull out your chair, sitting you right across from Bucky.

“No.” You admit.

“I’ll go get you a plate.” Sam says.

“You don’t have to. I’m not really hungry.” You tell him.

“You have to eat.” He chastises. “I’ll be right back.”

He leaves you, disappearing into the crowd as Sharon scans the crowd.

“I’m not hungry.” You repeat to no one in particular. Just talking because you’re nervous as hell and you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you.

“You have to eat.” He says, and finally you look at him.

He’s watching you, those blue eyes more ice-like tonight because of the décor that surrounds him, but for once he doesn’t look like he’s angry. His face is carefully controlled. A small curios tilt of his head as you stare at him and say nothing.

“Bucky!” Sharon exclaims. “Pepper’s here. Let’s go say hi.”

She smacks his arm and moves around the table to head over towards Pepper, escorted by an adorable Morgan wearing a bright red dress with tulle for days. She doesn’t look happy about it.

“I’ll be right back.” Bucky tells you, and you turn to watch him get up and refasten the button on his front and move after Sharon.

Left alone, you feel yourself beginning to relax. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all, right? Bucky doesn’t like you but he’s not hating you either. Sharon is as nice as always and Sam as attentive, but you know he’s only fussing because you got shot.

You’re beginning to wonder why he’s taking so long with that plate of food—not that you want it but you’re getting lonely over here—when you look around towards where he disappeared to and spot him chatting up one of the girls from accounting.

She looks absolutely flustered and it makes you smile. Good for her.

You scan the crowd, looking for Sharon and Bucky to see if they might be on their way back and find them standing with Pepper, Morgan in her arms.

They’re chatting pleasantly for a moment before Happy leans in to say something to them.

Sharon looks confused, Bucky a little nervous.

Happy points up above their heads and your heart drops.

Sharon and Bucky look up to find a cluster of mistletoe strung up above their heads, nestled between two large silver baubles.

Happy holds out his hands, shrugging, but clearly enjoying himself.

Pepper is also smiling, all of them finding the moment utterly entertaining.

Look away, Y/N. You try to tell yourself, but your eyes are glue and your heart is pounding.

You try to swallow but your mouth is too dry, and your throat is clogged up. A lump the size of your fist settled right within it.

You watch as Sharon grabs Bucky’s bicep and leans in towards him. He leans in too, faster and much more eager.

They kiss.

You’re shattered.

As they pull away quickly, Bucky reaches up to wipe at his lips with his fingertips and cautiously seems to glance your way.

He sees you watching and stands up straighter.

You look away, rising to your feet as quickly as you can and move around the table to head straight for that metal door.

“Y/N!” Bucky calls but you can’t stop now. Not with your heart in your throat.

The quiet of the hallway is welcome and you hurry towards the first door you see and pull it open. Inside the conference room, the blinds are drawn, and no one will be able to see you in here. The long black glass table and the sterile silver rolling chairs that line it are familiar, but you really wish you were in your room right now.

This place gives you no comfort.

You look up, spot another set of large glass doors and sigh, knowing that there might be some comfort out there.

They lead to a balcony, a small one, and as soon as you move out onto it, cold winter wind freezes you.

It bites at your skin, harshly drawing your attention away from your aching heart pain.

The wind whips your hair, making a mess of the careful style you’d tried to put it in.

Shutting your eyes, you sigh once again, hoping that this ache…this broken heart will mend quickly.

All of this started as a lusty dream. A quick bit of desire conjured up when you’d walked in and spotted Bucky sitting on your desk.

How had it grown into something more meaningful? Why do you have to like him?

The sound of the door opening turns you around and you see Bucky look inside. He nearly turns to leave when he spots you on the balcony outside.

He stalks towards you, feet stomping on the floor. He throws the balcony door open and lumbers towards you with intent before wrapping his right arm around your waist to pull you tight against his body.

His metal hand takes hold of your bicep and he pulls you to him roughly as he leans down to kiss you hard.

Startled, for two seconds all you can do is stand there as his lips move against yours, warm and wet. When his tongue slides along your bottom lip, you melt into him and shut your eyes to finally return his kiss.

His metal hand tightens, and you pull back, “Ow.”

Confused, he looks at you, then his hand as you curl that shoulder up.

“Shit.” Bucky exclaims. “Sorry. Fuck.”

You laugh. “Ow…”

He releases you and looks at the spot where you’re shot and watches as a small patch of red begins to grow.

“Damn it. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I…I forgot.” He explains.

He meets your eyes and he seems to regain whatever determination made him pull you to him so hard.

“It was mistletoe.” He explains. “That’s why I kissed Sharon.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you run?” He demands.

“Because it sucked.” You explain. Duh!

“I’m sorry.” He sighs. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Y/N.”

“Me too.” You nod.

“I only want you.” Bucky sighs, reaching up to caress your frozen cheek.

“Me too.” You smile.

The side of the Tower suddenly flares to life with millions of tiny Christmas lights, bathing the two of you in warm yellow light.

You both admire the sight for a minute, appreciating the beauty.

“Merry Christmas.” Bucky says, drawing your eyes back to him as he wraps his arm around your waist tighter.

“Merry Christmas.” You tell him, smiling as you lean in to kiss him again.

“I love you.” He sighs, stopping your advancement as your heart nearly bursts through your chest. “Be mine?”

You laugh once, giddy beyond belief. “Yes.”

Bucky smiles.

“I love you, too.” You promise, and he pulls you in for a kiss, this time carefully avoiding your wounded arm.

“Well it’s about damn time!” Sam says, both you and Bucky stopping with your lips barely touching to look over at the large balcony doorway.

“No kidding.” Sharon says, smiling at the two of you with a smug little smirk. “Good call on the mistletoe.”

Sam smiles proudly. “They needed the push.”

You glare at him, feeling a little spiteful at the hell you just went through to find this heaven.

“Excuse you?” You warn.

“Oof, I mean, dance, Agent Carter?” Sam asks, offering Sharon his hand as he selectively avoids your angry gaze.

“Uh…yeah, good idea.” She takes his hand and lets him lead her back inside.

Bucky chuckles but reaches up to take hold of your chin and turn you to face him once more.

“I’m gonna have to buy him a better present.” He laughs, then leans down to kiss you silly.

The end.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky christmas fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #christmas fanfiction #marvel christmas #sam wilson #sharon carter

[gra-sonas]

For the otp asks, are there still numbers you haven't been asked yet? Every singlenone of your answers has been amazing to be honest.

Awww, thank you, nonnie, I’m glad you’ve liked my answers. ❤️

Okay, let’s see which numbers I haven’t answered for Malex yet:

1) Who rocks the Ferris Wheel seat and who flips out and begs them to stop?

Neither. They just enjoy the ride and the view. 🎡

6) Who takes photos of the other while they sleep?

They both did in the past when Alex came to the Airstream whenever he was on leave. One afternoon, Michael had managed to take a picture of Alex who’d fallen asleep after their intense and somewhat desperate reunion sex. Michael took the pic not knowing whether he’d ever get to have this again: Alex, safe in his bed. After Alex had left, Michael got a printed copy of the photo at the drugstore and put it in his wallet. It’s still in there.

Alex took a photo of Michael asleep whenever he had to leave, desperate to drink in the sight of Michael, all sun-kissed skin and wild curls. He never dared to get one of the pics printed, but he has a special folder on his phone where these pics are stored.

When they get back together, they don’t need to take pictures of the other asleep anymore because they know, that from now on, they have “the real deal” right by their side for the rest of their lives.

10) Who is more likely to cheat?

Neither!

12) Who starts a food fight in the kitchen?

Neither. The “kitchen” in the Airstream is too small, and Alex’s kitchen is so pristine, the mere idea of getting it all dirty in a food fight is absurd. They do enjoy cooking together, though, feeding each other bites of whatever they’re preparing.

13) Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer?

Alex is the singer in the family, that doesn’t keep Michael from singing in the shower, though. He also loves to sing in the car, along to whatever’s playing on the radio. And Alex joins him, happy to share this with Michael.

15) Who likes writes the others name on their wrist?

Neither

18) Who talks to the other while they are sleeping?

Sometimes Michael wakes up in the middle of the night. Not from nightmares or anything, he just wakes up and lies in the dark, listening to Alex’s slow and deep breaths right next to him. And he’s just so grateful that he gets to have this, that they get to have this. That they finally figured out how to be together without hurting each other.

And sometimes he just has to tell Alex, even though he’s asleep and won’t hear Michael, but Michael tells him anyway. How much he loves Alex, how much he loves their life together, he tells Alex about his hopes and dreams, just all the little things he sometimes forgets to tell Alex when they are awake (although they both make an effort to talk to each other, to tell each other how much they love the other etc, there’s no lack of communication between them these days).

Anyway, sometimes Michael talks to Alex while he’s asleep, these moments are very dear to him and they help him to fall asleep again eventually.

(Sometimes Alex will wake up from Michael whispering sweet things to him, he pretends to still be asleep and just let’s Michael’s love wash over him.)

19) Who drives and who has the window seat?

During their first summer together they’re going on a road trip. Alex insists on driving because he wants Michael to be able to soak it all up. The view, the landscape, sights, animals on the side of the road, everything.

23) Who thinks they are not good enough for the others love? and who’s more afraid of loosing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other to tell them they don’t need to worry?

Ouch, this is a touchy topic for both of them.

Alex is maybe a tad better at talking himself out of thinking like that, but sometimes it’s still hard to shut up and dismiss Jesse’s voice in his head. Michael struggles more tbh . Undoing the damage of more than two decades of abandonment issues requires a lot of work.

But the longer they are together, the easier it gets, and the faster one of them will pick up on the other “going there” and then they’ll talk, and there’s always the reassurance of “I love you, you are good enough, you are my forever, I’m not going anywhere.”

24) Who starts random slow dancing with the other in the kitchen? Who holds the other just above the ground and kisses them?

When they cook together, there’s always music playing in the background, and Michael loves nothing more than to hug Alex from behind, kiss his neck, and sway with him to the rhythm of the music. Eventually, Michael will turn in Michael’s embrace, put his arms around Michael’s neck and kiss him (while they’re still swaying to the rhythm of the music).

26) Who kissed first?

Alex tried, but Michael wasn’t ready.

Didn’t take him long to get there, though

27) Who orders take out at two in a morning? and who wakes the other up at three in the morning to go downstairs with them to get a glass of water because it’s too dark?

When Alex is really (REALLY) in the mood for fries and milkshake one night, Michael drives to the Crashdown and gets them fries and shakes just before Arturo closes for the night.

Neither of them‘s afraid of the dark, though, and if someone’s thirsty in the middle of the night, it’s usually Michael who gets up so Alex won’t have to use his crutches.

28) Who writes poems/stories and love songs about the other? Do they sing the songs the write for them?

I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE THAT THIS IS CANON 🥺😭

29) Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up driving them to the emergency room after it backfires?

No stunts for these two, especially stunts that will earn them a trip to the ER (Michael wouldn’t go there anyway, and Alex has spent too much time in a hospital, he really doesn’t need more of that if he can help it).

It’s more likely that alien shenanigans will get them in trouble, and since they’ll both do anything to protect the other, chances are, things will end in a way that requires medical attention, it’s usually Kyle or Liz who’ll patch them up.

One day, Alex gets hurt quite severely during a mission to another secret facility, though. Michael finds him after fighting off a group of soldiers. Alex is lying on the floor of the server room where he was hacking into the main computer, a red stain in the shape of a poppy slowly growing on his chest. He’s been shot and his breathing is getting more and more shallow. Michael cradles him in his arms, yelling at him to stay awake, but he knows if he doesn’t come up with an idea real quick, he’ll lose Alex.

There’s no way in heaven or hell Michael will let that happen. He rips Alex bloody shirt open and places his hand right over Alex’s heart. He closes his eyes and lets his instincts take over. His hand starts glowing a familiar red, and the lights in the room are flickering. He feels a boost of something building up inside of him, and with one final push, he presses his hand down on Alex’s chest. It’s like he’s shoving life itself back into Alex’s limp body.

Seconds later Alex starts moving in his arms. He coughs, then he looks up at Michael, his dark hazel eyes shining with so much love, it takes Michael’s breath away.

“You did it, Michael, you saved my life!” He grabs for Michael’s hand (that’s still glowing a faint red) and presses a kiss into the open palm. Michael cups Alex’s face and Alex nuzzles into the touch. The intimate contact blows a connection between them wide open and all of a sudden it’s like they’re outside in the bright sunshine, there’s so much light, but it doesn’t hurt their eyes, it just surrounds them, pierces right through them and warms them from the inside.

Then there are pictures, they feel like memories but how can that be? There they are, kissing, but they are clad in what looks like primitive fur clothing. Another picture, Michael is wearing a toga-like garment, while Alex is sporting the golden armor pieces of a Roman general. They are lying on the floor a luxuriously decorated tent, feeding each other with grapes. Another picture where they are wearing medieval clothing, and so it goes on and on. It’s like there’s always been an Alex and a Michael in every century since the beginning of time.

When the picture show ends, they gasp and with that they’re back under the harsh neon light of the server room. They look at each other and although they hear noise in the distance, they hug tight and sink into the most intimate kiss they’ve ever shared.

When the noise comes closer, they stop kissing, and Alex grabs Michael’s hand.

“Please help me up. I have everything I need downloaded, also one push of that button over there and the facility will blow up in 15 minutes. Let’s get out of here, and then I want to go home and make love to you four weeks in a row.”

Michael grins, helps Alex up and on their way out, sets off the self-destruct mechanism with a mere thought.

When they get home, their friends don’t see them for an entire month ;)

#malex #alex manes #michael guerin #otp questions #malex fic #my fic #nonnie asks #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis #rnm 1x06 #rnm 2x13 #my gifs

[kewltie]

Pale blond hair, keen emerald eyes, and a gentle, honeyed smile cresting on her face, she is the darling of the hero’s world and an angel sent from heaven to tame that unruly father of hers – only a fool with think that – but Eijirou knows her by another name: Kasumi-chan, the monster princess.

People often forget behind that pretty smile of hers is Bakugou Katsuki’s daughter and just like her ornery father, she also needlessly wields a sharp and callous mind that cut down anyone stands in her path. Mercilessly and relentlessly, she’s a hell raiser. It’s in her blood.  

“Uncle Eijirou,” she smiles sweetly at him as she approaches, which immediately set off the all alarm bells in his head, “I heard you and Auntie Mina have been trying for a baby.”

“W-what?” Eijirou sputters in his seat. “Where you hear that?!”

“Around.” She gestures vaguely into the distance as though that explain everything. “Now, I have an offer for you: how do you feel about taking in Hanabi? I know he’s not good for much right now since all he does is cry, eat, poop and sleep.” She makes a face. “But I’ve been told that babies outgrow of it eventually and because he came out of Papa, I’m sure he’ll be handsome one day, so you don’t have to worry about him staying ugly for long.”

“W-wait!” Eijirou makes a hacking sound like he’s choking on air as he stares at her incredulously. “A-are you seriously trying to pawn off your new baby brother to me?!”

“Yes!” she chirps up unrepentantly, leaning in close. “I don’t think we need another kid in our household. I’m already perfect.” At that, she puffs up her chest proudly. “Babies are kinda useless, don’t you think? I don’t know why everyone is so fascinated by them when I’m right here.” Her body deflates as her face scrunches up in displeasure. “I just don’t get it!”

Eijirou looks around helplessly for any kind of cavalry coming to his rescue, but the devious brat had zeroed in on him right away when he decided to separate himself from the party for a moment to take a breather. She’s definitely taking no prisoner by the fierce glint of her eyes.

He’s in deep shit this time.

“Kasumi-chan, you know how much everyone and your parents absolutely adore you,” he tries as she preens under his praise, “and Hanabi-chan.” Her face crashes immediately. “Especially to your parents, because you’re both their precious children and they could never choose between you two.”

“Why not,” she snaps, her eyes narrowing with a predatory sheen that keenly reminds him how very much she is Bakugou Katsuki’s ridiculously spoiled daughter. She has been an only child for far too long. “He not only keeps my parents up late at night with insistent crying but they never have enough time to play or pay attention to me! Babies are the literal worst! They’re so gross and annoying, and I just don’t understand why adults go crazy for them!” She rolls her eyes, bristling with contempt. “Just take him back wherever he came from!”

Eijirou’s next words must be chosen with extreme care. “You were like that once too, Kasumi-chan,” he points out.

Kasumi cocks her head, brows furrow, and frowns. A gauntlet of emotions run across her face: confusion, annoyance, and then finally, it settles into disbelief. “Unlikely,” she scoffs. “I was never that irritating. I was the most perfect baby. Grandma Mitsuki always said so.”

“That’s—well,” he starts, thinking of Katsuki’s early years with Kasumi and the anxiety and fear that had bled from him. How even Katsuki, who had bulldozed his way through U.A. and the hero rankings so easily, can be brought down by a babe swaddled in a pink Hello Kitty blanket.

Children can humble even the fiercest of men. Bakugou Katsuki was no exception.

Reluctantly, he acquiesces, “You were a pleasant baby.” She squints at him so he hurriedly corrects himself, “an excellent, wonderful, and most perfect baby.” Which immediately has the effect of lightening her mood up dramatically because someone got to feed that Bakugou’s ego of hers.

“I know,” she agrees amiably, and there’s smugness in those words.

“But,” and this is where he might die, he thinks somberly, “it’s not really Hanabi-chan’s fault he can’t do anything right now. You know he’s young, so he needs a lot of help to do things like you once did. And I’m sorry that you think we’re ignoring you, but he’s just a baby, and he needs so much from us. From you too. You’re his big sister now and he’ll look up to you one day, so won’t try to be kind to him?” Eijirou doesn’t so much go on his knees and beg, but it’s a close thing.

It sounds pretty reasonable to him, a sound defense of Hanabi’s existence while appealing to Kasumi’s powerful sense of pride. Kasumi, for all her the crazy ideas that she get stuck in her head, is logical and thoughtful. Thankfully, that part of her is all Izuku’s. Hopefully, that’ll be something she’ll channel instead.

There’s a beat of silence too heavy between them that makes his skin crawl as Kasumi’s face goes blank and indecipherable. Then, slowly and coldly, she says, “Are you asking me to sacrifice my happiness for that wet diaper rag?”

“No!” he says, aghast. Of course, she took it the wrong way. And, “Is that what your baby brother?!”

She folds her arms across her chest. Impertinence lines her body. “I call it as I see it.”

He sighs long-sufferingly. A thing, he quickly finds, to be extremely common around the Bakugou. They’re all going to drive him to an early grave.

“That is not what I meant at all,” Eijirou tries once more. “Just think of a little brother as an investment. Like a tree. He’s small and, uh,” he cringes, “useless right now, but as you care for him one day, he’ll grow older and will bear you fruit of happiness in return.”

She wrinkles her nose at his attempt at persuasion. “That’s dumb,” she points out, cutting through his nonsense with childish bluntness. “Trees can grow by themselves in the wild even without my help and what can Hanabi even give me when I’m not lacking anything? I’m happy with my life,” she insisters with narrowed eyes. “Hanabi’s existence doesn’t improve my life in any way. I can’t even think of anything that he did to make me happy since he’d arrived here, so I doubt he’ll be able to change my mind about it in the future too.”

Eijirou shakes his head and almost cry into his hands. Her sheer stubbornness is truly profound. “Kasumi-chan, he’s your brother! You can’t just give him away.”

Frowning, she places her hand on her hip as she stares him down and he feels like he’s pinned to her bull eyes. “If you think he’s so great and all that, then why don’t you just keep him. Take him home with you tonight.”

And they’re back to square one again, he thinks hopelessly. He groans out loud.

“Well, do you want Hanabi or not?” she demands, tapping her foot impatiently.

“I would very much like to keep my head intact,” he answers solemnly, because if Katsuki doesn’t kill him first then Izuku’s disappointed frown would.

Kasumi looks heavenward for a second. “Coward,” she mutters lowly under her breath.

But, clearly, not low enough because he heard it all right. “Hey,” he says defensively. He’d tried. Like, a lot given who he is dealing with and for all the years he had known her, barely able to walk on her own two feet, he’d only won a handful of battles against her. It doesn’t speak much of his successes.

“Fine,” she huffs, “there’s plenty of other people at this party. I’m sure I’ll find someone else who can take Hanabi with them when they leave tonight.”

Eijirou’s eyes widen and before he can tell her to stop her crazy plan, because seriously, she runs off to find her next victim. For a horrifying moment, he just sits there and considers either going after her, or—or he can get a drink to erase this entire fiasco from his memory.

Yea, a drink sounds about right about now, he thinks hysterically. There are days when Bakugou Kasumi is a trial as much as she is a blessing to the world. This is one of those days. Let’s leave it to her parents to rein her in. He’d already lost the battle, no need to lose the war too.

#bakudeku #fic snippet #series: re:kasumi #future futuuuuuuuure FAR FUTURE scene #if/when bkdk have another child #and kasumi has to deal w sharing the spotlight w a new silbing #she is not DOING WELL lol

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 27: Ransom

(Protect those you love), prepare to leave it all behind.

Whumptober 2019 Day 27: Ransom

Word Count: 2161

Relationships: Intrulogical

Warnings: Kidnapping, physical violence/weapon (knife), blood and injuries, mentions of torture, threats of non-con to another character, vulgar/explicit language, mentions of drug usage/bad parenting/death of a minor character (not a side), cursing

A/N: hmm... i don't really know what to think of this one, to be honest. it feels weird to write right now, since i'm a bit sick, but i don't know. maybe it's not as awful as it feels like it is. who knows. anyway, have this shit. i'm not really a huge intrulogical shipper, since i don't actually ship remus with anybody (i hc him as aro), but logan fit so here we are.

It’s pretty cold here. Remus knows that being kidnapped and held hostage in a basement however far below the surface isn’t a particularly forgiving situation, but couldn’t his kidnapper give him a blanket or something? It’s too fuckin’ cold for this! And it’s weird, because the guy seems pretty warm himself despite not even wearing a jacket or anything, just a t-shirt, and it makes Remus a little jealous. Remus is always cold, but this place just makes it worse.

He doesn’t even know why he’s here, either. He’s not special, doesn’t stand out, isn’t known for any notable actions or anything. He’s just a simple guy, a dude who lives in a shit apartment and works two jobs in fast food and bartending. He’s pretty common, in society’s eyes, so… why is he here? 

The blow to the head had been delivered from behind, just after Remus has gotten into his apartment after work. It came when he least expected it, which is so not fair, because he would have loved to fight the guy. Have a fun old-fashioned full-out brawl in his living room at two in the morning, show him what he’s got. It could have been a fun end to his shitty night, but no, of course the guy had to take the coward’s way out and avoid the fight completely. What a fucking bore.

Now, sitting here tied to this chair in the middle of the room, Remus doesn’t even really feel the pain from the big knot on his head. There’s better things to worry about, like “Am I out of milk?” and “Will I get back in time to catch the season finale of the television show I’ve been following since the premiere?”. Besides, injuries are nothing new to Remus, having grown up playing only contact sports, so a little bonk on the head is nothing compared to the evenings he’d come home from practice or games with welts and bruises littering every inch of his skin. Before she died, his mom would freak out over the blood and cuts on his arms and legs, but then he’d give her a toothy grin with multiple teeth missing from being knocked out, and she’d just shake her head and clean him up. His mom was super cool, before she became a druggie and too busy fucking whoever was closest to come home and take care of her kids.

Anyway, Remus still doesn’t get why he of all people had to have been kidnapped, because it’s not like he’s some important figure or in any sort of position of power. He holds sway exactly Nowhere, and therefore isn’t exactly the ideal choice when stealing someone from their home for your own gain. Whoever this guy is, he’s kind of a dumbass.

“Listen up. You’re gonna sit here, smile into the camera really pretty, and you ain’t sayin’ a word unless I tell you to. Got it?” the guy demands as he sets up a tripod, and Remus just snickers. His kidnapper gives him a withering glare as he settles the camera into the correct spot, and then walk around to the other wide to line the shot up the way he wants it. “What’s so funny?”

“Just wonderin’ what the video’s for. Who you gonna send it to, my dead grandma?” Remus asks, licks his lips with a grin as he wiggles in his seat. The ropes around his wrists are tight, but definitely loose enough to slip out of if he pulls hard enough. Remus gets to work using his sharp fingernails to slice through through the rope one strand at a time, to try and reduce the circumference and be able to slide it far enough through the knot that he’ll be able to just yank his hands free. Remus guesses that all those years of putting up with Roman’s boy scouts phase weren’t a complete waste.

“Nope. You got a brother, it’s goin’ to him,” the kidnapper replies with a sneer. He’s finally finished setting the camera up, presses a button to start it rolling, and the red light begins to blink. Remus raises an eyebrow as the kidnapper settles back slightly further from the tripod and pulls out a stack of note cards, and it’s with a barely contained giggle Remus realizes that he had to write his speech down.

“Proof of life,” the guy says into the microphone with a much deeper, more gruff voice than before, and it takes so much effort to not burst out into raucous laughter. “If you want your poor little brother here back to you alive, you’re gonna leave no less than 200 thousand in a bag at the address provided. Unmarked bills, no cops. You leave the money, and then you get your ass out of there. If you call the police or try to pull any tricks, little bro here is gettin’ a bullet to the face. Once I confirm the money’s clean, he’ll be dropped off somewhere within walking distance of help, alive. You have three days. If that money still isn’t with me by the time midnight rolls around come Saturday, he’s dead.”

The kidnapper presses a button on the top of the camera and the red light stops blinking with a little click. Just in time, too, because Remus busts out into uncontrollable laughter as soon as the camera stops recording. His lungs and chest hurt with how hard he’s laughing,  but he can’t stop, and the offended, angry look on the guy’s face just makes him laugh harder. 

“Stop fuckin’ laughing!” his kidnapper snaps, but his voice cracks at the end, and Remus is in tears. It’s pretty predictable when the guy rushes him and punches him in the jaw, knocking the rest of his breath out of his lungs in a pained wheeze. Remus barely has a moment to recover before the guy’s fist is buried in his gut, forcing a hacking cough from Remus’ throat. He wants to keep laughing, but now it hurts like a bitch to even breathe, so maybe staying quiet for now is the best option.

“I said I’d bring you back alive, not unharmed. Don’t fucking push me,” the guy growls maliciously, a cold glint in his eyes as he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a switchblade, flips the knife out in a way that shines the metal’s reflection of the light in Remus’ face. How annoying. The kidnapper presses the knife into Remus’ throat, in the same spot he’s had tracheostomies performed when his airway was blocked, and the feeling of smooth, sharp metal just centimeters away from his trachea is almost comforting in its familiarity.

“Fuck you,” Remus responds hoarsely, spits as much as he can and it lands on his kidnapper’s chin. Remus knows he’s going to be pissed, knows the fallout will be painful as fuck, but he can’t really seem to bring himself to care. He doesn’t regret it, either, not even when the guy yells out in anger and slams his fist into Remus’ stomach again. He doesn’t regret it when the guy mutters something about teaching him a lesson, he doesn’t regret it when he replaces his switchblade with the bigger chef’s knife laying on the shelf in the corner, and he certainly doesn’t regret it when the guy returns with a sadistic grin.

Remus will brag about what happens next for so, so long after he gets out of here, because it’s the funniest shit he’s ever done. The disheveled man brings the knife to Remus’ chest and pushes the blade into his skin, slowly slicing it open as the fresh cut forms a bleeding slash. But Remus doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even yell from the pain. He just moans, one that isn’t of fear but rather high-pitched and obscene, a mockery of sex that leaves him barely able to hold onto the laugh that wants to push past his harshly gritted teeth. “Harder, daddy!”

And that’s probably the last straw, because the end of the cut turns much less clean in the guy’s lividity. The blade presses deeper into his skin, draws more blood and elicits more pain to radiate from his chest, and it takes more effort than Remus would like to not cry out. As much as he doesn find real humour in this situation, he can’t really afford to die here, so staying the dominant, unafraid personality to this man who obviously fears a lack of control is important. He can’t show fear, because that will just bolster the guy’s confidence and keep his head clear enough to not make mistakes. However, if he’s upset and feeling undermined, his anger will cause him to slip up, and allow Remus the opportunity to turn the tables on him. It does sound easy in hindsight, but slacking off won’t help any, so Remus focuses in on burying the pain below a layer of numbness.

“You know what? Maybe I won’t send it to your little brother. Maybe I won’t return you at all. Maybe, I’ll just keep you here, tied up so you can only sit there as I torture your little boyfriend,” the kidnapper seethes, and his eyes narrow as an even more deranged smile slips onto his face when Remus stiffens uncontrollably. “What, that hit a nerve? You scared for your little boy toy? What was his name… Logan, right? I know where he lives. And I’ll steal him from his bed, bring him here and force you to watch while I slice him up. Maybe I’ll make you watch me fuck him, take care of him better than you ever could, hmm? How about that? Want me to fuck your boyfriend for you? I saw him, y’know, a cute little nerd with glasses. Nice ass, skinny waist… he’s almost like a girl. Maybe I’ll keep him for myself, after I kill you, fuck him every single day while he just cries for his poor ol’e Remus.”

No. No, no, no no nononono. How dare he?! You can do anything to Remus. You can threaten him, make fun of him, torture him, and he’d laugh in your face. But this guy has the fucking nerve to bring his boyfriend into this? No. Unacceptable. This isn’t-- fuck.

And Remus knows he should stay calm, not let his words get to him, but…he knows Logan’s name. And apparently, where Logan lives. What if he does take Logan, does hurt him while Remus can’t even do anything about it, helplessly tied to a chair? What if this guy hurts his baby, hurts his Logan, and Remus could’ve prevented it? It’s far too easy to imagine Logan’s eyes filled with fear, the attempts to stave off tears, muffled cries of pain. All he can see in his mind is Logan traumatized, and for the very first time, the thought of sex makes Remus feel sick to his stomach.

So with an enraged snarl, Remus yanks his hands free from the flimsy rope keeping then locked behind the back of the chair, and then lunges. He relishes in the surprised yelp, the angered fear in his eyes, the way he scrambles to fight back far too late. Because he’s pinned under Remus, and once he’s got someone in his grip, he isn’t letting go. For probably too long, Remus just sits there, beating his kidnapper with shaking fists. The man fell unconscious a while ago, hasn’t been a threat for minutes, but Remus doesn’t have any other way to take out his frustration besides sitting here on top of this guy, pummeling him to hell and back. Eventually, his arms fall limply to his sides, and Remus’ eyes dull as he slouches over. His breathing is light and trembling, and there’s a feeling welling up in his chest that he doesn’t understand, can’t pinpoint or identify. His legs feel like they’re on fire when he pushes himself to his feet, burn when he sways a bit in an attempt to keep his balance. 

Remus doesn’t know where he is, or how far he was taken from his home, but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what Remus has to go through, because as he climbs the ladder out of this cellar and emerges in a long, dark hallway, he knows. He knows as he trudges to the end, as he whips open the door on the other side to reveal an alleyway. He knows as he gets to the road, recognizes the bakery across the bustling traffic, and when he turns in the opposite direction of his apartment. He knows when he sees the green sign at the intersection, sees the familiar name of Logan’s street, when he approaches his apartment complex. He knows that Logan’s going to be okay, because he’s going to make sure of it, and Remus vows that nobody will ever be able to threaten his boyfriend ever again.

#whumptober2019 #no.27 #ransom #ts sides #sanders sides #ts remus #remus sanders #ts logan #intrulogical #ts roman #creativitwins #tw kidnapping #tw violence #tw weapon #tw knife #tw blood #tw injury #vulgar language #tw torture mention #tw noncon mention #tw threats #tw cursing #jasper's writing

[lemonjoonah]

Under Fire - Pt 18

Title: Under Fire Word Count: 7.1K Rating: M Genre: Gang AU/ Mafia AU, Drama, Slow Burn Romance Warnings: Violence, Blood, Referenced sexual activity, Referenced voyeurism (3rd party viewer without consent to watch). Pairings: Hyung Line x Reader (Primarily Namjoon x Reader), very slight OT7 x Reader.   Pairings (in this chapter):  Namjoon x Reader, Jin x Reader, J-Hope x Reader, Suga x Reader

Summary: As a child you lived among the most wealthy and powerful, after the death of your mother you were shipped off to stay with her sister. Even after finishing your education you continue to live apart from the elite, but a visit home creates an unexpected disaster. You are suddenly roped into a darker world, and who better to be your guide than the infamous gang known as BTS.

Chapter 18 - Dust to Dust

POV RM

“I’ve just sent them the all clear,” Jk mutters looking up from his phone.

I nod in response keeping my eyes on the computer screen with the hacked footage, waiting patiently for you to hit the casino floor. Fuck I wish I could be beside you instead. If this goes south quickly, I won’t be able to get there in time.

I just need something to go right today, I need you to succeed where I had failed.  My most recent endeavour has come to a crashing halt after JK gave me the news earlier this morning. A contact that I had made several days ago, one that was willing to step forward again had just been killed, in a so called ‘workplace accident’. Kim is clearly keeping a close eye on me or other past plaintiffs, continuing the facade of innocence with his manufactured deaths.

Until I can be sure that no more harm will come to them, that I won’t bring the devil to their door, I have to hold off on my own revenge. It’s not enough to take everything from him, the thought of him behind bars is so much more alluring, especially when his own men have committed acts against many prison inmates. Kim will not survive long in incarceration and I’ll make sure of it. That’s the only way this can end. You’ll finally be free to do as you wish, and maybe I’ll be free of this burden that still hangs over me.

These past couple of weeks have been unbearable. More than anything else I just wanted to see you. I couldn’t even keep to my office knowing what had taken place there. Every time I would stare down at my desk I would just think of how good you looked on top of it. The feeling of your warmth would return to my lips, my fingers, and my cock. My ability to concentrate would vanish with every thought consumed by you.

I deeply want to take back all of my words and the choices I have made when it comes to distancing myself from you, but instead I continue to force myself to replace the intoxicating memories of my office, with the sobering recollections of the library.

There is still so much I haven’t told you. You still don’t know about her, and about what happened to bring me here. But with the anniversary of her death looming, I find it harder and harder to bring up, to touch on that subject of selfishness when at points I have fallen into a somewhat similar trap while trying to protect you.

After her death I knew that my revenge and my survival would come as an unlikely pair, but at that point I didn’t care. I had nothing left to live for. There was no happiness to my end, only a lack of enemies. If I had to die in the process of taking them down I would do so.

But then you came along and made me question everything. One touch from you sealed my choice, showing me there is a reason to keep going, even after everything is complete. You made my selfishness return, but even now as I watch you exit the elevator holding your head head high as you go to met Cha, I find myself still wondering if it’s such a bad thing.

I double check my watch, the delivery is already late and still no word of visual from Suga. I clap JK on the back before moving to the van door “Stay here and keep an eye out will you? I’m going to check in with Monsta X.”   

..  

POV (Y/N)

J-Hope runs to meet them at the elevator while you throw everything off the dining room table and turn on every light in the room.

Jin and V carry Jimin in while JK keeps pressure on his stomach with a gauze patch. Setting him down carefully while Jin throws his medical bag down on the table next to him, pulling out several instruments and wrappings.

“(Y/N) hold this for me.” He hands you a bright flashlight. “I need to check the damage before I make any attempt in closing him up. Sorry Jimin this is going to hurt.” Jimin looks to be too far out of it to even notice Jin’s words.

JK stands behind Jimin ready to use force if necessary to keep him in place. But when Jin’s fingers breach the wound, he’s flat out with no reaction.

“Hope, check him.” Jin orders with an edge of fear.

J-Hope with his fingers on Jimin’s throat leans an ear over Jimin’s mouth. “Breathing and pulse are still steady.”

There’s a sigh of relief from Jin, “It’s not as deep as I feared, it didn’t penetrate past the muscle. He’ll be fine once we can get a transfusion into him.”

V looks at the jacket Jimin was wearing finding the pocket torn. Pulling out the contents he finds Jimin’s phone with a shattered screen. “Looks like the blade glanced off his phone first.”

“(Y/N) I’m going to need the disinfectant and my suture kit.” You quickly dig through his bag and hand over the necessary tools, before looking up and taking an evaluation of everyone else, finding two members absent from your midst. “Where are RM and Suga?”

“They’ll meet us here later, they’re not done yet...” V replies.     

As the first stitch goes in Jin begins to berate the youngest member, “JK what is the number one rule of knife wounds?”

“Don’t remove the blade,” JK replies quietly.

“Then why the fuck did you take it out?!” Jin shouts in frustration.

JK looks terrified as does everyone else with Jin’s loss of composer. “I’m sorry I panicked. I’m not used to being the first onsite. There was blood everywhere I didn’t know what to do.”

“We’ll good news, you can repay your stupid mistake by being the blood donor. You and Jimin share the same type.”

There’s an audible groan from JK, “Maybe next time you’ll remember then?” Jin reprimands.

With the tensions somewhat relaxed you turn from their conversation to find V examining J-Hope’s face intently and with confusion, it’s only another second before a smirk slowly pulls at his mouth. He takes a kerchief from his pocket and reaches across you to hand the item to J-Hope whispering, “Nice lip colour Hope, but I think it looks better on Fire.”

J-Hope instantly blushes and takes the cloth to wipe his mouth. Any dignity you could have salvaged or story you could have fabricated was gone with J-Hope’s lack of composer.

“It’s none of your business V,” You quietly quip back to him.

“No you’re right, it’s not my business.” He chuckles as he pulls out his phone to check the time.

J-Hope takes this moment to lead you on to the balcony out of earshot of the others, a blush still present on his face, “Fire, about earlier. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have come on like that. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

The meeting with Cha had put you on your edge, having J-Hope beside you expressing you how well you worked the situation in your favour, it was the acceptance that you craved so desperately. When he kissed you... it was unexpected yet it didn’t feel wrong, only like it was a natural progression. As if it was your reward from him for your accomplishments and fuck you wanted it. But now as the heat of the moment has died down you are left conflicted, “So where does that leave us now?” you ask with worry, scared of the outcome, and the possibility that you might hurt him too.

“Wherever you want. Wherever you feel comfortable, I would never say no to a repeat of today’s session but I also know that things are complicated right now. I don’t need a label, I just want you to know, if you need me I’ll be there, if you want me you can have me.” J-Hope drapes his jacket around your shoulders, the weight of the fabric is heavy but comforting in the cool night air, “I just want to be there for you the way that you were for me.”

“I don’t want to leave you hanging onto something that might not happen Hope.”

“Who said I was hanging, there’s no cliff okay? I promise there’s no risk with me, as long as you're here, as long as you’re happy, I’m content.”

...

Jimin is moved to the bedroom still in his unconscious state.  Jin sets up the blood transfusion, after taking what he needed from JK, then eases into a seat beside to monitor his condition. When the other boys moved out into the living room you stayed with Jin. The exhaustion finally showing in him when it’s just the two of you remaining.

You rest a hand on his shoulder, to which he leans his cheek against as he takes your fingers in his. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this for.”

“Do you want to get some rest? I can watch over him.”

“No, it’s not that. I doubt that I could sleep right now. I just... I hate this, I hate knowing that there might be one day where I can’t save them, the bullet will hit something vital, or the blade will go too deep, and there will be nothing I can do.”

“No but we all know the risk, if any of us go down, no one will blame you if you can’t pull us back up.”

Jin sighs, “What’s become of us, to have this as a topic of discussion? Who would have thought those two innocent kids would ever be in our position.”

“I’m just following your lead.” You proceed to laugh at him.

“If you recall I distinctly told you not to,” Jin shakes his head. “(Y/N)... just please don’t be the one. Don’t be the casualty I can’t save. You can say that you know the risk and your willing to pay it, but I am not. Not after I finally got you back.”

Jimin wakes with a start followed by gasps of heavy breathing. You reach over forcing him back down knowing that if there was too much movement will rip the stitches that Jin just sutured.

“Jimin, you’re okay.” You and Jin try to settle him but Jimin grabs your wrist.

“Where is RM?”

“He’s not back yet.”

“They were looking for him... they thought he was with JK. They went to the van to target him.”

You freeze with fear, Namjoon hadn’t been in contact yet, neither had Suga. V said they went to radio silence for the teams safety, but what if something else had happened and they weren’t able to call for help.

“We need to find him!” Jimin urges trying to sit up again.

“Jimin, it’s okay he knows, we know. JK was there to warn us.”

Jin’s response puts you into shock, “Wait, what?! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because there’s nothing we can do.”

You throw Jin a look of distress, “What do you mean? Why is he still out there then if there’s a target painted on him, why is no one else out there with him but Suga?”

“Because we had to get Jimin back here. He has other teams with him, Monsta X, VIXX, Seventeen, and Pentagon, he’s not alone. They still have a mission to do and if he was targeted he didn’t want to anyone to follow him back here. They’ll come back when they are sure that it’s safe to do so.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t join them now,” You counter.

“I’m sorry, but we have to stay here. Those are his orders.”  

“Jin we’ve heard nothing. What if they’re in trouble? I can’t just wait to see if everything will be okay.”

You have to do something, even if you could just find them to be an additional hand in the operation. Your opportunity rests in the pocket of J-Hopes jacket that still rests on your shoulders, the keys to Suga’s motorcycle. JK had pulled up their last location at a warehouse that wasn’t far from where the accords had taken place. Making a break for the door you find yourself blocked by J-Hope who must have heard your raised voices. You try to skirt around him as Jin calls out to you.

“FIRE!” You come to an abrupt halt as Jin uses your code name for the first time. His tone is serious and even as he stares you down, “This is not about me holding you back for personal reasons. If you leave to find them, if anyone of us goes to search for them they will only be endangering themselves. They’ll be walking into a situation in the dark, no guidance, no notion of the current plan, nothing. They cut off the com-line for a reason, we have to wait for them to make first contact now.”

“This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, they’ll be fine I promise.” J-Hope whispers, carefully taking the keys out of your hand and steering you to the couch that you and he were on a mere hour before. JK is dozing off in the chair to your side. While V searches the internet for any news story or article covering what might be currently going on out there.

A grin slowly appears on his face as he sits back with a sign, “They did it...” he turns the laptop over to you and J-Hope, featured on screen is a truck embroiled in flames, “They got hold of the shipment and torched it.”

“Anyone found on the scene?”

“Nothing posted yet.”

...

Several hours later you find yourself still waiting. J-Hope is passed out behind you while you lay there in his arms eyes wide open staring into the dark. He was sure to keep hold of you as he fell asleep, you can tell that he’s still worried that you might slip off in the night to find them.

The phone next to V begins to vibrate, but with its owner in a snoring state that leaves only you to answer it. You breathe a sigh of relief seeing the caller ID display RM.

“Namjoon?”

“(Y/... Fire? Sorry I thought I called V.”

“You did he’s just getting some rest.”

“How is Jimin? Suga’s with me now and we’re almost there.”

“Stable, nothing critical but he’ll be out of commission for a while.”

“Good...”

“Namjoon what happened? Jimin said that you were a target, why would you stay if you knew the danger?

“It was a risk I had to take, just like your meeting with Cha. Did the arrangement go as planned?”

“Yeah a little too well. He gave us more than we asked for, and that has me worried.”

“We’ll be there in a minute, send me the elevator code and get everyone up we have a lot to discuss.”

He hangs up the phone his professional nature leaving you visibly downtrodden.

“He still has feelings for you, you know.” V mutters making you jump out of your skin, his eyes flick open up to you. “I know that this too is none of my business but it’s true.”

“H-how did you... don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m just reading the facts. You don’t know everything about him, you don’t know his past like, I do. There’s a reason he is acting the way he is, I think it’s time you asked him about it.”

“If he wants to tell me he can do so himself.”

“That’s not his style, his past is something he has no wish to burden anyone else with unless he has to. He will hold on to it to prevent others from taking on it’s weight. If you want him to share it, you have to ask him for it. But trust me when I say he still cares for you, you didn’t see the way he reacted when he found out you were in Suga’s room after the accords, and how much of a wreck he has been ever since. Insufferable mess might be a more accurate description actually.”

“Jealousy doesn’t count V, that’s not...”

“He wasn’t jealous, he looked more concerned.”

“But, why?”

“Damn I was hoping you could tell me...” V chuckles, “Guess I’ll have to find out another way.”

The elevator dings open a few minutes later, both Namjoon and Suga step out with matching looks of exhaustion and frustration, but no visual injuries.

“Jimin?” Namjoon looks to you.

“Through there.” You point to the largest bedroom suite. He gives you a weak smile before hurrying of to see the wounded member.

“RM said that everything worked out on your end.” Suga approaches you pulling the long rifle case from his back, setting down carefully on the floor next to you.

“For now,” you nod, “Not sure how long it will last. We saw that you were successful.”

“We got there in the end but the dust shipment was late, substantially late. They knew we were there and wanted to see if they could flush us out without damaging the cargo. The only conclusion we can draw is that someone must have organized an intentional leak.”

Namjoon pokes his head out, “Get everyone in here. We need to talk.”

...

“Shortly after RM left I heard sounds just outside of the Van, I thought it was just a couple drunken men passing by I made a call out to Jimin who was nearby to see if he could get a visual when they broke into the back door. They held me as gunpoint and kept asking for RM’s location where he had gone. Luckily for me Jimin wasn’t too far off.” JK looks to Jimin with guilt as he sits next to him on the bed.

Jimin looks unfazed though, the pain medication Jin had given him must be kicking in. “I took them by surprise and was able to disarm them of their guns but one of them pulled a knife. JK finished them off but not before... well... this.” He points down to his abdomen with a rough sigh.

Jimin notices your grimace as you look at his wound. “If you think this is bad you should see what happened to the guy who did it,” His face dawns a crooked smile, patting the youngest member on the back, “JK didn’t let him off so easy.”   

“Were you able to take down any of their lead members?” You ask hopeful that at least one of the men that killed your father would have been eradicated.

“No it was mostly the lower ranks and rookies. I spotted Youngjae there in the beginning but he was the first to flee, when he saw that they were outnumbered. I couldn’t even get a shot at him in,” Suga grumbles with disappointment. “I don’t think they expected us to come at them with everything. We had to lay low after just in case it was a ruse to follow after we succeeded, Seventeen and Pentagon took care of disposal, so there shouldn’t be too much for the news to report on.”

“Where going to have to evaluate the situation again later,” Namjoon sighs rubbing his brow, “For now though I want to hear what happened on your side,” He requests looking over you and J-Hope.

“Yes do tell, I hear you had a rewarding night too?” V encourages you with a forged smile of innocence.

You throw him a brief glare and recant the night’s events before anyone can guess there’s a double meaning to V’s words. “Cha will take on the bill or so he says but we should still air on the side of caution...”

J-Hope nods beside you, “He gave this as a parting gift as well, said that we would find the differences enlightening, whatever that means...” J-Hope pulls out the black envelope that Cha had given you.

There’s a groan from Jin, he reaches into his bag and pulls out the matching invitation you saw a week ago. “Every year my father holds a foolish themed New Years party for the more entitled members of society, basically the same crowd that attended the fundraising auction. I haven’t gone since breaking ties with him but he always sends an invitation.”

“Looks like Cha got an invite too then.” You state opening the envelope that he had given, and proceeding to scan the two invites reading through the pretentious nature of the letter to find Cha’s contained a few more lines tucked right in at the end.

...In addition to the main event, I would be honoured for you to join us for a more private gathering in the Orchid Room at 10pm to partake in a venture that I reserve for only for a select few...

“Cha said that Kim was trying to sway him to his side to get him to make a choice,” You mutter.

“What’s this then, an offer of some sort?” Jimin asks.

“Or a trap for us,” Namjoon adds, his hands crossed in front mouth as he contemplates the situation.  

       “It’s not unlike him to have a smaller affair such as this off to the side,” Jin explains. “But as I’ve said before RM this whole thing is too risky to make an appearance at. If Cha is plans to get the bill through we don’t need to make an appearance for social standing.”

“But Cha implied that getting the votes after might not be so easy, saying that the invitation or event might give us more information. If that’s the case we need to know what’s going on in that room. If the bill is taken in and then fails to pass we won’t get another chance so easily.”

“If we don’t go it fails, if we do we are risking a possible trap.” Namjoon considers aloud, weighing both options evenly.

You however find yourself skewed to one side, “At least if it’s a trap we can be prepared for it. We know the room, we don’t have to be inside if we can set up a visual,  we just need people close by and on sight ready with a distraction if this meeting proves threatening to our goal.”

Jin doesn’t look convinced by your argument,“Even being in that hotel will be a risk, any member or ally could be easily identified and brought down. There’s more opportunity for them to show their true colours at a place like this, not every room is in view of the public.”

“Have you seen this years theme?” You question, noting a possible advantage.

“No, why would I bother to check if...” Jin responds with confusion.

V takes the invite from you, his grin grows as he reads the fine print, “Oh that’s perfect... it’s a Masquerade.”

The atmosphere of the room changes to that of optimism, with several members embracing the idea.

“That could work...”

“They wouldn’t be able to tell...”

“You guys can’t seriously be considering this?! We would still run the risk of being identified.” Jin groans, you know converting him will be difficult but if you can get everyone on your side he too must fall in line.

“What if...” Namjoon starts and pauses, looking over in your direction. “What if just one of us was identified?” He approaches you, reaching out to the back of your neck. “May I?” His fingers touch the clasp of your mothers necklace.

You nod to affirm.

He takes the pendant in his hand before offering it to V, “How many of those do you think you can have made in a week?”

“If cost isn’t an issue, as many as you need,” He chuckles.

Namjoon continues with his explanation, “What if they kept identifying one of their prime targets over and over? Unable to tell who was who?”

“They’ll have to divide and conquer...” you look to Namjoon, pleased by the prospect of his plan. “If we can lead them astray, we can go wherever we choose.”

...

The next day you find yourself alongside Suga on the roof of a nearby parkade for the Shilla hotel, the intended location for Kim’s event. In the past couple of weeks you had accompanied him on several surveillance missions such as this, but you had never been the one behind the scope.

“Why are you so worried, it won’t bite. Well, not the shooter at least.” Suga chuckles darkly.

“I don’t know it’s just seems so technical, there are so many variables than a regular gun. It just feels like more could go wrong.”

“You’re right, there is a lot more that could go wrong.”

“Comforting,” you deadpan.

“But that’s why you take your time. If you find yourself rushing, you or whatever your protecting is already dead.”

“Jesus Christ Suga, do you have any uplifting advice?”

“Yes, as you practice you’ll get faster. It won’t be rushing, you’ll just be able to assess the conditions quicker and then make the appropriate adjustments with speed.”

Suga circles in around you, adjusting the gun in your grip, pulling the butt of the rifle to your shoulder. “Keep it here against you or the recoil will hit hard, move back with your whole body when it kicks and that should save your shoulder from injury.”

The curtains to the lilac room open allowing you to see inside. “Looks like they’re in,” You report. JK and V are currently taking a tour of the rooms with hotel staff, with the cover that they wish to rent a space for a future event. While in the future venue they planned to drop as many hidden cameras as possible.

Suga on the other hand wanted to look into vantage points that he could use. The high rises around the hotel are limited, leaving this as one of the few possible spots.    

“Okay Firework, let’s say I want you to take out JK’s knee what’s the MRAD differential?”

With the safety on you squint through the scope trying to estimate the distance of the shot. The wind coming from the north east is barely enough to move the branches of the trees and the angle on your scope is set at 15 degrees downwards. Typing the numbers into Suga’s convenient phone app you come up with the results, “1.62 up and 1.34 to the right.”

Suga double checks through his binoculars, while you might need the crutch of the app, Suga can eye the shot easily, “Nope, you’ve just shot him in the lower thigh he’s closer than you’ve approximated.”

“Oops,” you giggle in response.

JK is not amused by the topic of conversation coming through his earpiece, he holds up a rude gesture to both you and Suga from behind his back as to not let the hotel staff see. Suga keeps his eye on the window while relaying a message to back to him, “Very subtle JK, but if you’d like to keep that middle finger I suggest you put it away.”

After the room tour is complete for your team members Suga calls it a day, “Might as well start packing up, this spot should be fine and I think they’re almost done.”

“Sounds good,” you swipe out of the calculation app on Suga’s phone but in the process you accidentally access the next open window, a video player with downloaded security footage. Footage of Namjoons office, from the night of the accords... the red dress discarded beneath you on the floor while you sit exposed on the desk blocked only by Namjoon’s frame.

The security cameras... how could you have forgotten? But more importantly why is it on Suga’s phone? You’re hands begins to shake as you grip the device, your anger bubbling to the surface. Suga noting the change in your demeanour, looks to you.

“What’s wrong?”

Your finger hovers over the play button, but you can’t bring yourself to hit it. Watching even a second would be too painful. A reminder of what you had with Namjoon and now a secret that Suga has kept from you.

“Suga that night, when I asked if you could see me clearly,” Your tone wavers as you address him, despite your best effort to remain strong, “When I asked if you were emotionally biased. Was this already on your phone?”

You hold up the screen to show him. His mouth remains closed and he looks down at the ground in shame. But you have no patience for his actions or his loss of words.

You toss his phone back at him, “I hope you enjoy it.” your voice cracks. “Because it’s the last you’ll see of me for a while.”

And with that you bolt to the roof exit.

“Fire! Fire wait!”

You tear the headset from your ear as you run down the stairs.  Hopping into the first taxi you see, you order him to drive while you consider which direction to send him in. Going home to the manor alone would only bring up questions about what had happened. You need somewhere quiet, somewhere you doubt that anyone would have the gall to bother you.

...

The car pulls up in front of a beautiful and serene building, the final resting place for your father’s ashes. Due to the interruption on the day of the funeral, you had not been there to place his ashes in their case. The columbarium has a room reserved exclusively for your families use, the ashes of your mother would rest next to your father. When you went there to deposit your mother’s remains as a child, you found it to be so empty, a massive sized room for such a small family. You recall how you spoke to your father at the time saying that you worried she would be lonely.

You didn’t think that your father would take your words to heart. You thought that when you walked into the room that they would still rest alone in this lonely marble room. You believed that you would have the room to yourself to grieve, but you are wrong on all counts.   

Kim Namjoon stands on the other side of the room looking to an enclosure that was neither your mother’s nor your Father’s.

“Namjoon?” He turns to look at you in shock, he’s eyes wide and red. He takes a moment to register your appearance.   

“(Y/N)... did someone send you? I thought you were with Suga. ”

“I was... I didn’t know you’d...” You struggle to find the right words. You had come here to be alone, to remember what this was all for, to keep your mind focused on the plan and distract yourself from the emotions and difficulties falling in around you. Namjoon may be the centre of those issues plaguing you, but now that you find him here you don’t want him to leave.

“Did you come here alone?” There’s an edge growing in Namjoon’s voice, his tone lowers his displeasure evident. “(Y/N) what do I have to do...”

Your immediate response to his anger is far from typical. Your shoulders fall instead of rise. Your lips tremble instead of issuing a retort. You feel so defeated by your own team that you no longer have the strength to fight back. It’s fair to say that Namjoon notices the difference from your usual demeanour.  

He turns away from the encasement, his anger gone as quickly as it had come. Approaching you with hesitation, he inspects you with a touch to your cheek raising your head with a soft stroke of his hand before it comes to rest on your shoulder. “What happened?”  

“Did you know... did you realize that we were on the security footage that night in your office?”

He pauses with his mouth open, whatever he had expected you to say it was clearly not this. “Not until after, I swear it wasn’t intentional. I had it deleted that night, as soon as I realized we were recorded.”

So Suga had watched it before you went to see him. He spoke to you as if you didn’t know what was going on when he clearly did. He avoided the question of possible emotional comprise when he clearly was.

“Suga... he saw it, he downloaded it and he kept it.”

Namjoon’s grip tightens on you. “I’m sorry, I saw that he had accessed it. I hoped that he might have only glanced at it. I tried to tell you that night and go to question him about it, but when Suga stopped me, when he said that you didn’t want to see me, and how you had cried yourself to sleep. I knew I should give you space, seeing me would probably not be advisable after I hurt you like that. When I saw you again in the library...” He hesitates before continuing, his brow furrowing as he shakes his head, “I should have been more straightforward than I was. When you defended him I considered that maybe he truly had your best interest at heart. That maybe he wasn’t as selfish as I am.”  

“It was there on his phone I didn’t know what else to do but run. I couldn’t stay there, I had to get away. I know it was stupid, I know it was unsafe, but anything was better than staying there with him. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t...” You finally release the break you’ve been holding back, with tears flooding your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh,” He takes you in his arms burying your head to his chest, “Please don’t apologize, this is not your fault. I’m sorry I lost my temper just now. I won’t presume to know how this has affected you. So how can I condemn your reaction? I am not innocent in this problem either. I should have remembered the cameras. I should have persisted and told you when I found out and went to delete the footage.”  

He pauses for a moment letting you register everything he’s said before extending an offer to help. “I want you to tell me what you need. What I can do to help you, I can’t undo what happened but I don’t want to put you in a spot where you’re uncomfortable.”

“I just don’t want to see him right now, I need some time before I face him again.” You know you can’t put off seeing him forever, at some point you’ll have to ask him why. Why he didn’t say anything, why he betrayed your trust.

Namjoon lets go of you so he can step back and look upon you once again, “I can send him to the safe house, I promise you won’t need to see him until you decide your ready, okay?”

You nod lowering your head, it’s so hard not to feel that stab of guilt, thinking that maybe if you had acted differently things wouldn’t have played out this way. You begin to question if this might have ruined everything you’ve been working for.

Namjoon notes your anguish and raises your chin, “Please listen to me, it’s going to be okay.”

You take notice of his slightly red eyes once again. Swept away by your own conflict you had forgotten that Namjoon was here before you, that he had a reason to be here too, judging by where he stood he was not here to see your father. After the events of last night you know you aren’t the only who's at risk, so why would he make this trip alone?  You look to the case he had stationed himself in front of, not recognizing the faces in the photos but they all bare a slight resemblance to the man standing next to you.

“Namjoon are they...”

He turns back to the memorial display that he was facing before, “That’s my mother, my father... and my sister.” He answers before you finish pointing to each portrait next to an urn as he lists them off. “They’re the reason I’m here, why I met and worked with your father.”

You take his hand in yours, waiting to see if he’ll continue but he only stares at the encased pictures in front of him with his jaw locked. V was right, Namjoon isn’t going to share his story you unless you ask it of him. “Could you tell me what happened?”

He lets out a long breath. “You sure that’s what you want?”

“It is.” You grip his hand tighter.

His eyes continue to stare of as he starts off with a whisper, “My mother was diagnosed with cancer when I was 12, her odds were fair and there was promising new treatments on the horizon. My father went to great lengths to get her whatever she needed, even got her into a trail that communicated positive results, one that was being conducted by Kim’s corporation.”

Your stomach drops as you think back to the case you had read. Seeing the recognition in your eyes Namjoon gives you a sad smile.

“Her condition worsened quickly, they told us it that this was part of the trend, that patients often appear to get worse before they get better. But she didn’t come back, and she was not alone. After examining the results several other doctors not part of the trial came to the conclusion that this never should have happened. That the medications effects were far more adverse and stronger than they needed to be for her stage. They tried to use her and others to sway their results because their chances to live were far higher.”

“Your mother’s death was a part of that case wasn’t it? The one that was referenced in the bill?” You ask almost certain of what the answer would be.

Namjoon nods, “That was the beginning of our legal battle against Kim’s company. We had several suites of wrongful death laid against him for false information and representation. They tried to settle but my father didn’t want money. He wanted those responsible put in prison, where they belong. He received several threats but disregarded them, He refused to drop the case. Two years after my mother's death he was killed, he was walking home one night when he was hit by a car.”

You can’t help but match the sorrow in his face, to lose one parent and then the other so closely after... you know how deep those wounds can run.

“The driver was determined to be under the influence at the time and he confirmed that it was an accident. I didn’t believe it for a second, and neither did Park.”

There’s a hint of a smile when he cites your father’s name, as if it’s a slight high point to his tale.

“He found us and took both me and my sister in. Offered us a place to stay no questions asked, no payment in return. He said that it was his fault that Kim had been able to continue for so long he felt responsible and wanted to at least make sure that we were taken care of. He didn’t ask me to help with his plans at first but I insisted. As our undertaking became more and more dangerous, he offered to send my sister to a safe location to give her a new name and identity. He said that he had done it before and that he could easily do it again...”

Namjoon meets your eyes for a second, looking guilty for drawing your past life into the conversation, but for you everything begins to make so much more sense. His actions and responses finally have a reasoning behind them.

“The catch would be that I couldn’t contact her, I couldn’t see her again or at least for a very long time. I declined his offer, I was selfish, I didn’t want to let her go, she was the only family I had left.”

He explains his choice with hesitation as if you might judge him for his actions. “We chose to keep her separate from our activities, she still went to school but she had to be careful not to take any unnecessary risks. I still remember the last conversation I had with her so clearly, in your father’s library. There was a concert that her friend had invited her to. I told her she shouldn’t go and it wasn’t safe.”

“Her response still haunts me to this day, she asked me what was the point in staying safe, when she couldn’t even live like a human? That she wasn’t asking for the world, just a little freedom. Eight years ago today she was gunned down, ‘having been caught in the crossfire of a gang dispute,’ she had snuck out to see the concert and I wasn’t there to protect her. ”

A tear sneaks past his defences but he is quick to catch it.

“I regretted not sending her off for so long, knowing that it had been my choice to keep her nearby.”

He pauses looking to you again, “The first time I met you, was the first time I stopped blaming myself.  I realized that no matter what choice I had made there would still be consequences. I could see how much you were struggling, how dangerous it was for you to be on your own.”

“I wanted to take you back with me, if I kept a closer watch on you I knew my team and I could keep you safe, there were far more of us, we were trained, we knew what to expect, we could make you one of us, and if you were by our side there would be no problem. What I did not anticipate was my feelings for you. For the first time in awhile I began to think about my life between, between the revenge with my team, and my end next to them.” He glances back to the urns which contain his family.

“I was overcome by selfishness when I found that your feelings matched my own. I have never wanted something so much in my life, I had to protect you even more. When I released how overbearing I had become I wanted to take a step back, I knew I couldn’t give you what you needed at least not until it’s all over.”

“What happened to Jimin... it’s a reminder that we still might not get a middle before the end. That I might not get the chance to do right by you, to show you who I am without all of this,” Namjoon shifts to fully face you, letting his hands reach up to graze your cheeks that are now damp with tears for him, “And that thought kills me every time I look at you.”

#namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #bts fanfic #bts mafia au #bts gang au #bts reader insert #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #rm x reader #jin x reader #suga x reader #jhope x reader #hobi x reader #bts hyung line x reader #bts under fire series

[aquilaofarkham]

wolfsbane bloom

Trevor is bitten by a werewolf; Alucard and Sypha offer their support while the night of his first full moon creeps up. Eventually, he discovers that vampires do in fact get along far better with lycans than he expected. For bitchardarmitage.

rating: teen and up (canon-typical violence, blood, coarse language, brief mentions of death/suicide)

word count: 4,406

This will be easy, this will be quick. He’s done this sort of deed before. With every trudge forward, the heavy snow crutches beneath Trevor’s boots. He looks up through the trees; the creeping darkness of dusk turning into night makes them look more like the iron bars of a cage. The whip and sword hanging off either sides of his waist along with the crossbow across his back weigh him down. But he keeps moving - better to finish this now before the dead bodies start piling up.

Trevor blows into his hands, trying to warm them while taking a moment to exam his surroundings. Snowflakes descending from above gently blow onto his face and get caught on his eyelashes. Apart from the sound of his footsteps, the woods are silent. Dead, uncomfortable silence. He keeps an ear out for anything that might break it; a twig snapping under the weight of claws, the rustling of leaves against coarse fur, or the low growl of a creature that’s somewhere between human and animal.

Eyes glance towards the murky skies, settling on the bright full moon, before turning back down at the series of paw prints leading deeper into the forest. Far too big to belong to any normal wolf. It’s been a while since Trevor found himself on the trail of a lycanthrope. “Out of practice” is an apt descriptor regarding this recent endeavour. He’s not worried, though. His arrows are made from silver, his blade purified in wolfsbane, and the Morningstar still sings when he wields it. This should go easily. This should go quickly.

It’s not long before Trevor hears the very noise he’s been searching for. Readying the crossbow, he carefully spins around to face whatever is lurking in the bushes behind him. He takes aim and lets out a deep breath. The frigid air transforms it into a long huff of smoke. Trevor keeps both arms steady, his patience steadfast yet quickly running out. Until the foreign sound moves. First, he hears footsteps off to his side, then back behind, then to his other side. Circling him, over and over again. Stalking its prey.

The hunter keeps his feet planted to the ground, moving them only slightly, preparing himself for the right moment. The same noise continues, followed by that growl he needed to hear. Another breath and the footsteps stop. Trevor is granted a few short seconds before his own prey lunges forward. He rolls out of the way, kicking up clumps of snow. Raising his head, he looks directly into sickly yellow eyes belonging to a mass of dark fur, elongated limbs, and a snout full of teeth blackened with blood. It snarls, keeping its distance, biding its time, before making its second attack.

Trevor is much quicker. With the crossbow loaded, he takes his first shot. The short arrow drives itself into the beasts’ shoulder, barely an inconvenience. Then comes a second and third. Trevor reloads the weapon and takes aim just as fast as he dodges each vicious assault. Streams of blood and saliva drip from the lycan’s fangs. Those bits of silver have only made it angrier.

It doesn’t give Trevor a chance to reach for the Morningstar. It seizes the opportunity, wrenching the crossbow out of his hands and pins him against the deep snow, its jaws snapping at his face. Trevor tries holding it back, but only manages to slice open both palms. Teeth dig into his shoulder and neck. Trevor is thankful for the pain despite how much it burns. Instead of wearing him down, it motivates (or rather forces) him to grab his sword and burrow its tip between the creature’s ribs.

An agonized howl mixed with a whine echoes throughout the forest. Awkwardly yet with enough strength, Trevor’s blade pierces its neck, nearly getting caught amongst all the fur and flesh. Blood gurgles in the lycan’s throat, hacking it up in large globs. Last breaths before its heavy body collapses.

Trevor lies in the snow, blinded by snowflakes. Quick, yes, but far from easy. He sits up with a long groan and turns to his handiwork. The crossbow is in pieces, blood drenches the ground, and the beast is nowhere to be seen. In its place is a human body; naked, thin flaxen hair, and pale skin stretched to its limit over bones. They lay motionless, their life spilling out through their chest and neck.

The hunter doesn’t move, nor can he look away. It’s so rare for him to see a sight like this. There’s no sense of victory, but what should be felt then? Guilt? It had to be done. They were trapped. Whoever they were, he set them free. But what point is there in telling himself this? All Trevor can think of is a different reminder. The monsters he hunts, that his family hunted, must have been human. Even vampires were human before.

“Poor bastard.” He could give them a burial - not a proper one. Still, they deserve that much. But another sting crawls down Trevor’s arm. He places a hand against his torn-up shoulder; tender, wet, and burning. Tearing away the ripped fabric, his eyes widen at the wound left behind by the lycan’s teeth. All he can say is an exasperated, breathless “fuck...”

He’ll live. That’s what he’s terrified of.

--

Trevor walks back home, the pain in his shoulder reduced to a dull throb numbed by the cold air. He placed the body in a deep snowbank before retracing his steps. There it will freeze for the rest of the winter then thaw and decompose when spring comes. Or perhaps the wolves, foxes, and bears will find it; whichever happens first.

The only light guiding him is that of the full moon. Trevor sneers up at it. He knows the next one won’t be as beautiful or kind - unless he does something. He read his family’s bestiary as though it were a children’s bedtime story. He’s well aware of all the legends even those that contradict each other. The lycan travels on its hind legs, they are agents of the Devil, so on and so forth. 

One thing remains constant: kill the beast before it leaves its bite, and the curse will be broken. A harsh realization just as Trevor approaches home. He marches up to the front door of the Belmont manor, still half rebuilt and looking more akin to a large cottage than the grand building it once was. Strangely enough, he prefers this home to the one he was born an raised in. A warm hue of candlelight shines through the windows while smoke gently rises out of a short chimney. The other occupants are awake and waiting for him.

This is what Trevor was dreading. They’ll ask questions the moment they see him. They’ll look at his torn shirt with dark red stains, the teeth marks upon his skin, and the panicked expression on his blood-drained face. They care so much and worry for him even more, which is why Trevor will try avoiding them. He walks into the warm house, shaking off the snow that clings to his hair and clothes.

As he takes his first steps down the hall, Trevor stops. He notices a set of two faint voices coming from the reading room. Shit. Almost forgot; he needs to go through there in order to reach his bedchamber. His hand covers the wound. Be quick, keep your eyes down, and don’t draw attention to yourself. Three pieces of advice he remembers from the years spent as a wanderer. He should never have to act this way around his friends, his family, but it is necessary.

Trevor darts into the room, keeping to the walls lined with shelves. The glances he makes at his companions, who sit comfortably with books in their hands, are brief. “There you are,” greets Sypha. Her light jovial attitude lessens when she receives no reply. “So... everything went well, then.”

“Fine.” Trevor should know by now that a single, dismissive word has never been enough to convince either of them.

“That’s it?” Alucard lowers his book. “No boasting, no trophies of your victory? It’s not like you at all.”

“I’m tired.”

“Trevor, your shoulder...”

“It’s nothing.”

“It should be tended to. Come on...”

Trevor gently shrugs off Sypha. “Really, it’s not worth the trouble.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar.” Alucard may jest like he always does, but his tone sounds just as concerned as Sypha’s. Trevor’s face begins to sweat, he feels suffocated. He needs his room. It’s the only way he’ll be able to think clearly.

“I’m going to bed.”

“At least bandage that wound.”

“I’ll do it eventually.”

Sypha scoffs. “Always so stubborn-”

“Stop.” The response is far louder than Trevor wanted. Sypha and Alucard stare. His empty stomach heaves while the pit of his chest grows tighter, hurting him. “I appreciate the concern... but I really am tired.” He can’t even muster up a simple “goodnight” before rushing towards his room. Trevor shuts the door, his hand a death grip on the knob and sits on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t bother lighting a candle. Maybe the darkness will help focus his mind.

All options are weighed; none good, all bad, some even worse. Trevor returns to what he’s already accepted. Withdrawing a dagger he always keeps tucked in his boot, he checks the sharpness with his thumb. This is the only way. If he wants to spare others from the curse - if he wants Sypha and Alucard safe - it has to be. 

The door creaks open, Sypha comes into view, and Trevor quickly hides the weapon. Even in the shadows, he can tell that her anxious expression has worsened. “You were bitten,” she says. There’s nothing for him to deny.

“Show me what’s behind your back.” Her tone is bold, direct, yet gentle and Trevor cannot ignore it (he never could to begin with). He reveals the dagger slowly, almost shamefully. The first emotion Sypha feels is anger; how could he do this? How could he come to such an abrupt conclusion concerning his life without first talking it through with either herself or Alucard? She hoped Trevor had grown past this sort of reckless thinking. Evidently, he may never.

Sypha feels Alucard’s presence close behind her. Anger subsides into empathy as they walk into the room. Perhaps there is reason as to why Trevor came to a hasty decision. He’s a Belmont after all, born and bred as a hunter, knowing exactly what a lycan’s bite will do to a man. Still, it’s a decision they refuse to accept.

“Trevor...”

“Sorry. I... I didn’t want you to worry. But I have to do this.”

“No, you do not.” Sypha sits beside Trevor while Alucard carefully checks his shoulder, wincing as delicate fingers prod at the wound.

“It’s not infected yet, but it is very swollen and still bleeding a little. Put some pressure on his shoulder, I won’t take long.” He says to Sypha. Before Alucard can leave to continue playing the role of doctor just as his mother did, Trevor speaks up.

“There’s no point. Stop troubling yourself.”

“Not another word out of you. I’ll be right back.” There’s that blunt, aggressive tone Trevor has heard many times before, especially when directed at himself. It’s only because Alucard cares; he’s grown to care deeper and harder than ever. The dhampir then snatches away the dagger at an unusually quick speed. “And I’m taking this with me.” Only because he cares.

Alucard leaves Trevor with Sypha. Every uneasy breath causes his body to tremble. Hands curl into fists, nails digging into palms, as he tries forming his anxious thoughts into words. He holds himself back from grabbing tuffs of hair and bashing his head against a nearby wall. For being so careless, so stupid. “You really don’t understand...”

“We do understand. That’s why we’re both going to help.”

“Sypha, listen.” Trevor finds the strength to look her in the eyes. “When I turn, I won’t be able to stop myself and people will die. You and Alucard, you’ll...”

Sypha can’t bear to hear him talk of death and dying any longer. Enough, she thinks. “No one is going to die. Not your or anyone else. All three of us have seen enough death to last us lifetimes. We will help you through this.”

Trevor’s energy is spent. There’s not much he can do except trust her words - weakly. Alucard returns with his arms full of medicinal supplies: a basin of water, a cup of ointment made from honey and frankincense, gauze strips, and a needle with some thread. He works swiftly, diligently. Cleaning the wound, smothering it then sewing everything up. Trevor winces until the last bandage is tied. All he can think about is pain, that of tonight and that which will follow in the near future. Sypha squeezes his hand as Alucard rubs his hunched back.

Their simple actions ease the pain. Trevor hopes it will last for as long as it can.

--

There is much that can be done in a month’s time, yet not enough. Sypha immerses herself within books of the lycan mythos, some of which are older than the Belmont lineage itself. She reads of Dacian wolf cults, the cursed wolf king Vereticus, and poor children, seventh of their family, doomed to become beasts. How to track and kill, not help. Not save. But Sypha has many other books to tear through. If there are any alternatives, anything to suggest that Trevor might be spared his fate, she will find it. Alucard does the same and uses the notebooks left behind by Lisa, searching for a way to ease the eventual transition. Better yet, a way to stop it entirely.

It gets harder for Trevor with each passing hour. He tries, god knows he does. Carrying on with his hunts and errands, treating the days as though they were ordinary, postponing the inevitable. Distractions to keep himself at least half sane. But then there are the nightmares, common occurrences for a Belmont. Not these, however. Not the ones where Trevor chokes on blood and flesh or when his skin tears as easily as the thinnest parchment. He wakes up every morning, his stomach clenched and the taste of bile in his mouth. The closer the full moon approaches, the worse they become. Trevor can’t go about the days as normal.

Just as the last rays of sunlight shine through the stained-glass windows of the manor, Alucard finds Trevor in his bedroom. He sees him lying on his side, back turned, and the dhampir wonders how long he’s been like this. “No luck again?” The hunter asks before Alucard can announce himself.

“... Sypha and I made a tonic that will help with the pain when you transform.”

“But won’t stop it.” One pause is the only answer Trevor needs. “You shouldn’t put yourself through this much work for me.”

“Yet we do.” Alucard joins him on the bed. “And despite what you might think, we do it willingly.”

Trevor remains in his half fetal position, eyelids heavy. If that statement was meant to brighten his mood, it hasn’t. Alucard and Sypha have done so much for him. Enough that he feels he will never be able to repay them in full. Despite his honest attempts, he’s become a burden this past month and it will only get worse.

He finally sits up, his hair a bedridden mess. Alucard receives the first real glimpse at his bloodshot eyes, unchecked stubble, and cheeks devoid of blush and colour. Trevor turns to him, saying without words, “I know I look like shit”.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“It comes and goes.”

“For how long?”

“... an hour. If I’m lucky.”

“Are you afraid to sleep?”

“Does it seem like I’m afraid?” But Trevor already has the answer. “You’re right... you’re absolutely right as always. I’m so fucking scared. I can’t sleep because I’m scared of what I’ll see, scared of what I’ll feel, I’m scared of what’s going to happen in the next few days... I’ve never felt this much fear in my entire life. I feel sick and weak and...”

Alucard pulls the hunter in close, wrapping his arms around his broad back. “You know...” Trevor pushes his cheek against the dhampir’s shoulder. His sobs are quiet, repressed, which is just like him. “Contrary to what most people believe, vampires and lycans gets along very well.”

“... is it because you both turn into wolves?” Trevor asks, his voice muffled.

“The similarities certainly help. But it’s more a matter of solidarity between creatures of the night.”

“So what you’re saying is things would have gone a lot smoother between us at the very beginning if I happened to be a bloody werewolf.”

Alucard laughs and gives him a light hug. “A joke... and a bad one at that. Haven’t heard one of those from you in a while,” he hums. “Does this mean you’re feeling a little better?”

“I’ll feel better when all this is done and I can actually sleep.”

Without putting up much resistance, the dhampir guides Trevor’s heavy head onto one of the pillows. His tearful eyes shine like glass. “Then sleep.”

“I can’t, I’ll just see more of those... fucking awful things.”

Alucard ponders for a moment. Trevor will think of his next action as over sentimental. He might even poke fun at him, claim he’ll use it as blackmail, but he does it out of genuine affection for the idiot. Lying beside him, Alucard drapes the fur blanket over their bodies. “I’ll stay here until morning. I’ll help you sleep.”

Trevor lets out a defeated sigh. He places his head upon the dhampir’s chest, pleasantly surprised at how soft and warm it feels. The slow rhythmic breathing also helps put him at ease. Alucard’s fingers stroke his hair as lips ghost over the hunter’s forehead. “You’re not weak for being scared. We’re all scared. But we’ve made preparations and we’ll take all precautions. You’ll still be you, even after everything. The same foulmouthed, smelly... brave Belmont you always have been.”

He could go on, but Trevor’s eyes are already closed.

--

Near the manor, nestled under the hard winter earth, lies a cellar. Dark, chilled, and large enough to house over a dozen adult bodies. It was made for storage, but Trevor has found another use. One that will help save lives when the full moon rises this night. He can only hope.

Standing in the middle of the stone bound room, refusing a lantern or torch, he faces Sypha and Alucard. They seem apprehensive, uneasy, every quiet negative emotion. Even Alucard walks with an uncertain foot as he hands Trevor a small bottle. If the library books and their contents aren’t going to help him, perhaps this will. He uncorks it and pours a bitter tasting liquid down his throat, emptying the container. He’s drunk far stronger things in the past, but nerves almost cause him to retch everything back up.

“We should stay with you,” Sypha suggests. Trevor shakes his head, still reeling from the tonic.

“No. Just make sure the door is locked and bolted shut.”

“How will we know if you’re alright?”

“Won’t know for certain until tomorrow morning.”

“We can’t wait all night!” She glances at Alucard who doesn’t say it out loud, but agrees nonetheless.

“Then you’ll know everything happened like it’s supposed to when the screaming stops and the growling starts. It’s not gonna be a pretty thing to hear, I’ll tell you that much.” No one is in the mood for Trevor’s joke - if one could call it that. Not even Alucard has the energy to scold him. “But you can’t come in no matter what. Nothing goes into that room and sure as hell nothing comes out. Understand?”

Sypha and Alucard reluctantly understand. They look towards the stairs leading to the outside world. It’s late evening and the moon still be rising soon. A quick yet tight embrace is the best - or at least the easiest - goodbye they can give Trevor before exiting the cellar. Alucard closes the door, bolting it with a heavy clank. He and Sypha sit at the bottom of the steps; they’ve always hated waiting. In their shared experience, it never seems to be for anything good.

They pass the time in silence. Night arrives slower than expected. Sypha holds her knees to her chest, a shivering ball of stress while Alucard keeps his back against the wood and iron door. Small flakes of snow drift down followed by the cold light of the full moon. 

Before Sypha can ask if it’s started yet, they hear something coming from behind the door. Pained, restricted moans as though Trevor were holding them back. A series of “fucks” hissed through teeth grinding together. Longer it goes on until they turn into screams. Vocal chords strain and tear, becoming inhuman. Sypha’s hands cover her ears but she’s seconds too late. It’s in her head now. The banging, ripping, clawing, and crying have forced their way inside. Against her own wishes, Sypha’s mind pieces together a grotesque puzzle of what might be happening within the cellar.

Some of the wood on the door suddenly cracks, not enough to break it open but a few more and it just might. Alucard’s eyes go wide. He immediately uses his body in an effort to keep it shut. Although having faith in his immense strength, Sypha offers her help. They share the same prayer: let this end.

The violent banging stops and the piercing screams quiet down. All that’s left is the same silence as before - Sypha and Alucard feel no comfort. They bring their ears close to the door and hear it. A guttural snarl belonging to a very, very big animal.

“Alucard...” Sypha whispers. “Do you remember what one of those manuscripts we looked at said?”

“Which one?”

“The one about northern lycan myths. It said something about calling out the creature’s name...”

There’s a tense pause before he remembers the passage. “If one should love the beast dearly, speak its true name and its humanity shall be restored.” The same text also suggested tossing the lycan’s human clothes in their direction. Alucard doubted its validity even when they first found it. “I don’t think...”

“We should at least try it. Please.”

Alucard’s furrowed brow softens. Of course it’s a risk, but he loathes the alternative of waiting until morning while Trevor stays locked in a dangerous body he can’t control. And listening to Sypha’s gut instinct has never led any of them astray before. If it doesn’t work, there’s always the clothes option. Cautiously, Alucard unbolts the door.

Sypha walks in before him, a small flame emanating from her fingertips. The steps they take are short and careful until a low drawn out growl stops them. Light reflects off ice blue eyes shining in the surrounding blackness. Backed into the farthest corner is a beast with thick fur, its posture cowered yet threatening, ready to strike if tested. Clearly a wolf, yet unlike any wolf the two have seen. Everything is too large; its head, limbs, teeth. From where Sypha and Alucard stand, they instead see a mouth full of daggers.

“Trevor Belmont.” Reaching out his hand, the dhampir is the first to say his name. The creature snaps its jaws, its barks deafening.

“Trevor, it’s us. You remember, I know you do.” Sypha stays close to Alucard, keeping the flame lit while her other hand prepares a different spell should they need it. The lycan lowers its head and crawls towards them on all fours, the hairs of its belly scraping along the floor. “Trevor...” Alucard repeats, stunned at how close they’ve gotten. Scared that one mistake could ruin all their chances. It sniffs his hand and blinks. No longer does it growl. Alucard and Sypha are tired of waiting but they must do it one last time.

Their hopes are rewarded when Trevor softly bumps the top of his head into the dhampir’s palm.

--

He doesn’t come out. Not into the forest nor the house. Trevor holds full awareness of what his body has become, but the fear of losing command haunts him. He cannot risk going outside. He won’t wander amongst the dense forests only to come across a village and succumb to any violent urges that might be screaming for release. So, he stays in the cellar curled up in his corner of stone and hay, alone.

A soft whimper escapes as one of Trevor’s oversizes paws covers his eyes. It was difficult convincing Sypha and Alucard to leave him alone without the use of words. All he could manage was a few persistent whines while he pushed the outside. They’ve been gone for a while.

Suddenly, out of the quiet, Trevor hears the door creak open. He raises his head, ears perking up and expects to see either a blue clad Speaker or a golden haired dhampir. Perhaps they’ve come to keep him company or bring him food. Yet in their place, Trevor is greeted by a wolf like himself. This one however is much smaller with yellow eyes and fur whiter than the snowy hills surrounding his home. He sits up, recognizing this creature.

Alucard enters the cellar, his nails tapping against the floor with every graceful step. The two take their time in familiarizing themselves with each other’s new forms. While the white wolf circles around him, the lycan remains hesitant. Until Alucard gives the side of his head a couple gentle licks and Trevor feels his muscles relax. You’re still you. Even after everything. Trevor doesn’t know if that’s what Alucard is truly thinking, but his actions seem clear enough.

They nuzzle their snouts together; maybe this is what was meant when he said vampires and lycans get along better than most humans believe. Trevor would be content to stay here all night, as long as Alucard stayed as well, but the white wolf has other plans. He trots over to the door and waits. Tentatively, the lycan trails behind him up the stairs. A passing breeze ruffles his fur. They stare at each other before Alucard bounds off through the trees. Trevor follows.

Running will do both of them some good.

#castlevania #trevor belmont #alucard #adrian tepes #sypha belnades #trevorcard #trephacard #netflix castlevania #castlevania fanfiction #my writing #*cvfic #OOF sorry this look so long!! i didn't want to burn myself out like i did last year ;;

[laivineoasis30]

Contracts Chapter 06: Don Lainas

Pairings: MarkxOC

Warnings: Assassination, violence, fluff, implied smut

A few hours after JB left, the remaining five members of the team took a flight from Rome to Athens.  The team had a couple of days to figure out what to do, because Don Lainas was out of town, conducting business in Japan.  

The team gathered in Jinyoung’s hotel suite, under an assumed name off course, and he spread out the schematics of the place.  He tapped his ear, and made sure that Youngjae was online, before he started the briefing.

“Youngjae, how is Giselle doing?”

“According to JB, she gave birth to the babies.  She has two, healthy baby boys,” Youngjae’s voice rang out loud and clear.

“That’s a relief,” Mark said, nodding.  “Now we can focus on killing this bastard.”

“Youngjae, do you have the cameras online?” Jinyoung asked, looking at the schematic.  Youngjae acknowledged that he did.  “How many guards outside?”

“Surprisingly most of them.  I think he’s thinking that if he does get attacked, they won’t be getting past his guards outside.”

“Damn we could really use JB on this one,” Yugyeom said, shaking his head.

“We will make due.”  Jinyoung looked down at the schematic.  “Yugyeom, BamBam, and I will take the guards outside.  Mark, you and Jackson sneak into the house.  Youngjae, how many guards inside at one time?”

“Maybe five.  The majority are outside.  You’re going to have your hands full.”

“You guys can take that, right?” Jinyoung asked, both Mark and Jackson.

“Yeah, that’s not a challenge,” Jackson answered.  Jackson turned to look at Mark, and sighed.  “Can I ask you something, and you won’t try to stab me?” Mark turned amused eyes to his friend. “How long are you going to make Kristie wait?”

“Mind your own business,” Mark answered, looking away.

Meanwhile, Yugyeom was throwing glares at BamBam.  Furrowing his brow, BamBam looked at his friend curiously.  When Yugyeom refused to explain his look of anger, BamBam started to grow very frustrated with him.

“What?  Why are you looking at me like you want to murder me?”

“You mean aside from the fact that you almost killed Jackie?” Yugyeom spat. “I know that you didn’t have control over that, but what’s the reason that you haven’t called her in two days?”

“That’s my business, not yours,” BamBam said, holding up his finger in warning. “You have no right to ask about that.”

“You’re wrong,” Yugyeom answered, pulling out his phone.  “Because if you start keeping your distance from her, and you make her cry because you’re going to shut her out, then I’m stepping in.  It’s that simple.”

“You promised!” BamBam growled.

“As long as you were there to keep her happy, yes.  You haven’t talked to her in two days.  She’s worried, because she knows that what we do is dangerous,” he said, glaring at BamBam.  “And if you’re not going to take care of her, then I will.”

BamBam walked up to him, but Mark and Jackson got between them.  Mark took Yugyeom to the hallway, so that he could go to his room.  After Yugyeom was gone, Jackson did the same to BamBam.  

“Hyung,” Jinyoung heard Youngjae in his ear.  “You’re the only one who can hear me, hyung.  There’s something important that I have to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I hacked JYP’s phone,” Youngjae started, before he cleared his throat. “I heard something that might be a problem.”

“What did you hear?”

“I heard that JYP is going to send someone to kill Kristie, Jackie and Ana.”

“What?” Jinyoung said, urgently.  Mark and Jackson looked at him, but he walked out of the room.  He walked down the hall to his room, before he addressed Youngjae again.  “What did you hear exactly?”

“JYP contacted somebody,” Youngjae said, sighing.  “He told him to take Kristie out, then Ana, and then Jackie in that order.” He sounded very distraught, as he spoke to Jinyoung.  “Do I tell Mark, or not?”

“Not,” Jinyoung answered, shaking his head, even though the younger man couldn’t see him.  “He needs to have a clear head, if not he’ll make a mistake like JB did.”

“So we’re just not going to tell him?” Youngjae asked, incredulously.

“We’re going to take out Don Lainas in two days.  I’ll tell him after.  Surely you and JB can watch Kristie for two days.”  Jinyoung sighed.  “If he is more worried about Kriste, he’s going to get hurt.  Do you want that?”

“No, hyung,” Youngjae said, sighing.  “I won’t tell Mark.”

 Kristie woke up, for the third day with Mark gone.  He hadn’t contacted her in those three days.  She wasn’t sure that he was going to contact her at all. Truth was, she didn’t want him to contact her, if it was going to distract him from his business.  She did miss him though, like crazy.  She hadn’t been able to sleep too well without him, and even if she wouldn’t say it to anybody, she hadn’t been eating correctly, skipping meals regularly.

She took her purse and walked towards the door.  She was very surprised to find that Youngjae was blocking her way. She furrowed her brow, and motioned for him to move.  He shook his head, blushing a little.

“Youngjae,” she drew out her name in a warning.

“Where are you going, noona?” he asked.

“The store.”

“That’s what you said yesterday, but you came back without any groceries,” he said, eyeing her curiously.  “Where are you really going?”

“The store,” she repeated, looking down.  “Now please move.”

“It’s too dangerous for you to be out there, alone, without protection.”

“I have protection,” Kristie answered, taking out a knife that belonged to Mark.  “Now, please move.”

“Are you meeting someone?” he asked.  “I won’t tell Mark, noona.  I just want you to be safe, so please tell me if you’re meeting someone.”

“I’m not meeting anybody, I just really want to go to the store.  Please, just let me go.”

“Not alone,” Youngjae said, shaking his head.  “I’ll go with you.  I will stay as far as you want, as long as I can get to you if you’re in danger.”

“Youngjae, I’m fine.  I can take care of myself,” she snapped.  “I know that you’re trying to protect me, but what’s the point if Mark doesn’t even care anymore.  I’m leaving.” She pointed to him, a clear warning in her tone.  “You are staying here.”

And Kristie left the house, leaving a shocked Youngjae in place.  She had never snapped at him, and he was feeling kind of hurt that she had.  Meanwhile, Kristie got on the bus.  It took her to the park across form the Han River. She’d been coming here, almost every day since Mark had left.  She often sat and wondered what was going to happen when Mark did return.  Would he turn her loose, and leave her?

“You shouldn’t worry so much,” a voice next to her said.

Kristie stiffened, and she put her hand in her pocket, where the knife was. She turned to look at him, her eyes wary.  He grinned, and held out his hand for her.  She didn’t take her hand out of her pocket, glancing down at his hand, and then back up to his eyes.

“I’m Park Jinwoo,” he said, glancing down at her left hand.  “Oh, and you’re married.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said, glancing at him.  “I think you know exactly who I am, and you know exactly who I’m married to.”

“What?”

“Stop wasting your time,” she said, shaking her head.  “I’m not going to fall for your lies.  Just go away.”

Kristie turned away from him, and she started walking away.  She made it out of the park rather quickly, and she breathed a sigh of relief.  She wasn’t planning on letting go of the knife, until she got onto the bus.  She moved towards the bus stop, and in front of an alley.  Suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around her, caging her arms to her body, and she yelped.

She was flung into the alley, and onto the floor.  She landed on her knees, scraping them on the asphalt.  She looked up, spotting three men, one of whom she’d just told to leave her alone.  He smiled, and shook his head.

“You had to go and make it difficult, huh?”

“Leave me alone,” she whispered.  “Please, leave me alone.”

“So, now you’re begging?” Jinwoo said.  “What happened to the confidence you had a while ago?”  He looked at one of the men.  “Sanha, grab her.”

Her hand, which had snuck back into her pocket, grabbed the handle of the knife. She slowly pulled it out, hiding it with the sleeve of her cardigan.  When one of the men grabbed her, she spun quickly, swinging the blade side of the blade out.  She slashed his face, before she plunged the knife into his side, just under the rib, like Mark had taught her.

A gurgling sounded in his chest, and Kristie pulled out the knife. Somewhere far off, a gunshot sounded, and the other man went down.  Kristie fell to the floor, covering her head.  Jinwoo grabbed her by the hair, and yanked her up to her feet.

“So I underestimated you, it seems,” he growled, looking down at his two men.  “Who is protecting you?”

“Judging from the bullet hole, right between your dude’s eyes, I’d say it’s Im Jaebum.”  He gasped. “Oh, you’ve heard of him?  You should run.”

Quite suddenly, a car turned on.  It raced towards them, at top speed.  Kristie took the knife, gripped the handle hard, and jammed it into his thigh, twisting the knife.  He screamed, and threw her.  She scrambled out of the way, just as the car ran over Jinwoo.  Kristie stayed put, looking at the car, waiting for someone to get out of the car.  Nobody did.

“Noona!  Are you ok?” Youngjae’s voice found her from the opening of the alley.  

His arms wrapped around her, and she turned to look at him, shock clearly evident on her face.  He pulled her trembling body to his, and helped her to stand up.  They started to walk out of the alley, but suddenly she stopped.

“Mark’s knife,” she whispered.

“Noona, if it survived, it’s probably in pieces.”

“I don’t care,” she said, tears falling from her eyes.  “I need that knife.”

“Ok, stay here, and I’ll get it.”

He got onto his tablet, and the car turned on again.  It moved back off of the body, and Youngjae walked up to it. He took the knife that was still embedded in Jinwoo’s leg.  He grabbed the handle that had snapped off, and gave them both to her.  Kristie clutched them to her chest, as she allowed Youngjae to take her to where JB was.  Even though he wanted to lecture her, the look on her face, and the way she clutched the broken knife pieces, JB didn’t have the heart.  He took her back to the house.

“New rule,” he said, looking at everyone in the house.  Ana and Jackie were quick to take Kristie from JB. “Nobody goes out of the house, until the guys come back,” he looked over at Youngjae, “and we take out JYP.”

 Everyone took their place as they made their way to Don Lainas’ house.  Yugyeom, BamBam, and Jinyoung were placed on different areas of the yard, each one hidden.  Mark and Jackson had managed to make it to the door, and were contemplating how to get inside.

Mark made sure there were no guards, and he jumped, catching the edge of the house’s roof.  Using his arms, he hoisted himself up onto the roof.  Jackson looked at him incredulously.  He shook his head, and sighed.

“We’re not all light little ninjas, you know,” he whispered.  Mark chuckled.  “I’ll meet you inside.”

Mark found a window that was open, and he smiled.  Silently, he climbed into the window.  He landed silently on his feet, and he pressed himself to the wall as he made his way through the halls, looking in each room.  There was a man in the hallway, facing the stairs.  Mark made his way silently to him.  Swiftly, he put his hand on the man’s mouth with one hand, and with the other, he slit the man’s throat.

The rest of the way was clear for him.  Once he made it to the first floor, though, he heard the muffled sounds of Jackson beating and breaking bones.  Mark sure hoped it was necks.  While Jackson was busy, Mark made his way into the dining room.  

Don Lainas was sitting at the head of the table, eating his dinner.  His pistol was resting on the table’s edge, itching for him to shoot Mark.  He took a forkful of food, put it into his mouth, and chewed slowly.  His eyes moved up to lock with Mark’s and he grinned sideways.

“You’re lucky to have gotten this far,” he said, glaring at Mark.  “My men will be in here in a few minutes.”

“Oh, you mean the ones out in the yard, that were supposed to stop me from getting inside?  We took care of them,” Mark grinned, “all of them.  Or did you mean the men that were in the house, protecting you from me?” Mark held up his hand that was covered with the guard’s blood.  “Took care of them too.”

“Do you know who I am?” he said, grinning.  “Do you think there won’t be repercussions?  Do you think you’re not going to die?”  He smiled smugly, and nodded.  “Do you think my stupid, simple, excuse for a daughter is going to be safe? I’m going to find her, and I’m going to gut her mys—”

Mark was quick.  He took the gun off the table, and shot him, right between the eyes, cutting the man’s tirade off.  He’d had enough of this sorry excuse for a man threatening the woman he loved.  Kristie was almost safe.  Now they just had to get rid of JYP.

The door to the dining room burst open, and Mark aimed the gun at it. Jackson ran in, looking pale and worried.  When he saw Mark standing there with a gun in his hand, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he turned angry eyes to his friend.

“What the hell?!” he shouted, walking up to Mark and punching him in the arm, hard.

“Ow, what the hell?” Mark said, rubbing his arm.

The door burst open again, and three very pale, worried men poured into the dining room.  When they saw Mark, they sighed, color returning to their faces.  Jinyoung glared at him, walked up to him, and punched him, not as hard as Jackson.

“What the hell?” Mark said, looking at every pair of glaring eyes.

“Why did you shoot him?”

“Because he was pissing me off, and I wanted to kill him with his own gun.”

“You scared us,” Yugyeom said, shaking his head.  “You use knives, and when we heard the shot, we thought the worst.”

“Hyung,” Youngjae’s voice sounded in their ears.  “Mark, you need to come home, now.”

“We have two more—”

“Hyung, you have to come home now.  Kristie needs you now.”

The color drained from his face, and his heart nearly stopped beating. “What happened?” he asked, his voice wavering.  “Is she ok? Did she get hurt?  Is she…”

“No, but she was attacked,” Youngjae said, concern lacing his voice. “Jinyoung hyung, what I told you was right.  He went after her first.”

Mark turned angry eyes to Jinyoung.  “You knew she was going to get attacked?”  Jinyoung turned remorseful eyes to him.  “You knew that she was in danger, and you didn’t tell me?!?!” Mark shouted.

“Hyung, I was sure that JB and Youngjae could keep her safe.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?!?!” Mark shouted, grabbing Jinyoung by the collar, nearly lifting him off the floor.

“Hyung, if I thought she was in serious danger, I would have told you!  I just wanted your head clear for this hit!”

Mark shoved him away, and turned to walk out of the house.  “What happened Youngjae?”

The more Mark heard, the angrier he got.  Youngjae assured him that she was safe, and that she was waiting for him. Mark took the first flight out of Athens.  Twelve hours later, Mark landed in Seoul.  When he got to the house, he was surprised to find all the lights off.  As soon as he got into the house, he made his way to the room that he and Kristie had been sharing.

He found her sitting on the bed, looking out the window, lost in thought, clutching something to her chest.  Blood was slowly dripping from her hand, and Mark rushed towards her.  Not wanting to scare her, he stopped a few steps away from her.

“Kristie,” he whispered.

Her head snapped towards him, and she gripped whatever was in her hands tighter. She winced, and more blood fell from her hand.  He quickly took her hands in his, kissing her forehead and her cheek softly.

“Let go, you’re hurting yourself,” he whispered.  He pried her fingers apart slowly, and what she was clutching fell into his palm.  He looked down at his knife, broken from the handle.  “Where did you get this?”

“You forgot it,” she whispered.  “I carried it around.  I told myself that you left it for me, for protection.  Yesterday, I had to use it, and it broke.”  Her watery eyes met his.  “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” he said, pulling her into his arms.  “Don’t cry, neraida.”  She pulled back, looking at him.  He smiled. “I wanted to be able to call you pixie in your language.”

“But it’s pixie,” she said, her eyes focusing on him.

“Yeah, I know,” he said nodding.  “It’s why I went for fairy instead.”

He looked down, not sure how to tell her how sorry he was that he’d pushed her away, and that he’d left her alone.  He saw her knees were bloody, and he sighed.  Mark walked over to get some warm water in a bowl, and some towels, so that he could treat her scraped knees.  

When he was done, his hands gripped her thighs, and he separated them, before he caressed up her thighs.  He moved up, in between her legs, and he kissed her softly.  His hands moved around her waist, as he pulled her closer to him, deepening the kiss.

“Baby girl,” he whispered against her lips.  “I really don’t want to rush, or push you in any way, but I want you so badly.”

Locking her eyes with his, she started pushing the straps of her might dress off her shoulder.  He slipped them off her shoulders, kissing the exposed skin softly looking up at her.

“Are you sure that you’re up for it?” he asked, looking at her exposed chest.

She blushed, looking away from him for a second, before turning back to look at him.  She nodded, taking his hands, and placing them on her breasts.

“I love you so much,” he said, kissing her softly.   He took off his clothes, while she finished undressing.  As he looked at her, he had a thought.  “Kristie, I want you pregnant,” he said, their eyes locking.

She blushed, and her eyes widened.  “What?”

“I want you pregnant,” he repeated.  “We’re so close to ending this all, and I just…” His voice trailed off, not knowing how to form the words.  “I want a family with you.  I want a legacy with you.  I want you to be the mother of my children.”

She smiled, and she nodded, as he moved over her, promising her the world in that one night.

#got7 #fan fiction #mafia au #mafia life #arranged mrriage #mark tuan

[phoenixsavant]

Vengeance

Part 3: Following Saeran’s First Christmas

Saeran, MC and Saeyoung are joined in the hideout by Vanderwood.  Together they go after The Agency, but The Agency still finds them! 

               Saeran woke to someone cursing loudly and a crash from the top of the stairs.  He vaulted from the bunk, leaving Toby behind.  Saeyoung was a few steps ahead of him and they moved toward the stairs silently.  

               “Seven!  God damn it! Call off your fucking cat!” Vanderwood shouted.

               “Intruder!” Elly called out, followed by some noise Saeran couldn’t make out.  

               “Seven!  I know you hear me!” Vanderwood shouted again.  

               Saeyoung looked like he wanted to laugh, but instead he called up the stairs, “Elly, stand down.”  

               “Standby mode engaging” Elly said.

               Vanderwood stomped down the stairs.  “Fire?  You seriously made it breathe fire?  You dumbass!”

               Saeyoung shrugged as Vanderwood reached the bottom of the stairs.  “It works to keep people out,” he said.  

               “I saw that,” Vanderwood replied, dropping a bag on the small table.  He looked around.  “You two look alright.  Where’s MC? Is she hurt?”  

               “I’m fine,” she said, coming to stand next to Saeyoung.

               “Good,” Vanderwood said, nodding.  To Saeyoung he asked, “The Agency?”  

               “I believe it was, yes.  They got into the security system and hacked the cameras, but set off the alarm.  It was closer than I like to admit,” Saeyoung frowned.  “I had to blow the bunker.  It’s gone.”

               “Better it than all of you,” Vanderwood said somberly. “I can’t believe they did that. We warned them to leave us alone.”

               Saeyoung nodded.  “I thought it was enough.”  His face was drawn and pale.

               “Well, I didn’t know what you wanted to do, so I brought everything,” Vanderwood said, gesturing to the bag he’d carried in. “There’s cash, ID’s, tickets, and all the rest.  I say we burn the bastards to the ground.  I’m sick of waiting for them.”  

               “IDs?” Saeran asked.  “You mean, so we could just disappear?”

               “We can,” Saeyoung confirmed.  “That was always the plan, before.  If they’re not afraid though, they’ll just hunt us down anywhere we go.  We can change names and hair color, but their facial recognition software is good enough to see through that.  I know, I built it.”  

               “So what, we just live down here in a hole forever?”

               “No,” Saeyoung said, his voice taking on an edge. “No, but we’re going to be here for a few days.”  He looked at Vanderwood and the darkness in his eyes made Saeran step back involuntarily. “Bring me my machines,” he said. “They’re never going to threaten my family again.”  

               Vanderwood smiled proudly at Saeyoung.  “That’s my boy.”  He turned and reached into the bag, pulling out a laptop and a series of other boxes and cables.  “I didn’t think you’d let them walk away.  Start setting this up.  I have the rest in the car.”  Motioning to Saeran he said, “Come on, I need an extra pair of hands.”  

               Saeran followed Vanderwood up the narrow stairs and out of the shed.  In the parking lot, Vanderwood had parked a beaten up van next to Saeyoung’s dilapidated car.  He opened the back and pulled a box over.

               “See if you can lift that,” Vanderwood directed.

               The box was heavy, but Saeran managed to get an arm under it.  Vanderwood pulled another box out and shouldered the doors of the van shut.  Together they returned to the hidden room under the storage shed.  Vanderwood went back up and locked the doors as Saeyoung directed MC and Saeran in unpacking and positioning equipment.  Apparently Saeyoung had set up a satellite link to this location that ran alongside the satellite for the TV in the motel.  They would have their own connection to the internet in no time.

               “Vanderwood?” MC asked, as he came back down the stairs. “Do you have your phone?”  

               “I do, why?”  

               “I was just thinking, and shouldn’t someone call Jumin or someone?  If anyone from the RFA goes to the bunker, they’d think we’re all dead,” she worried.

               “Already done,” Vanderwood said.  “And thinking you three were dead would be the least of their worries.  I wouldn’t be surprised if The Agency is watching the place still.”  

               Saeran felt the strength run out of his body. The RFA was warned, but what about Nina? She wouldn’t have known anything. She was supposed to call him, but if he didn’t answer his phone, she might go to the bunker.  

               “Saeyoung,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

               “Hmm?” his brother responded, not looking up from the cables he was connecting to the computers.  

               “Who will warn Nina?” Saeran asked, his voice quavering.

               “Oh!” MC exclaimed, sharing Saeran’s realization.

               “Damn!” Saeyoung exclaimed.  “Vanderwood, could you call Jumin and …”

               “On  it,” Vanderwood said, scrambling back up the stairs.  

               Saeran followed him up, his heart pounding in fear. Nina couldn’t be a part of this. She couldn’t be left in danger. His mind was filled with images of her seeing the bunker, of Nina being kidnapped and tortured.

               “Jumin, it’s Vanderwood.”  A pause followed.  “Yes, everyone is safe, no injuries.  We’re going to be in hiding for a few days.  The news is about to get interesting, you’ll want to watch.  … We missed someone.  I need you to make a call.   …. That painter, Nina, can you get in touch with her at her shop?  She can’t go to the bunker.  … Bodyguards might draw attention, can you do it without anyone realizing they’re around?  …. Yeah, until we call again.  …. I will. Watch yourselves out there.”  

               Vanderwood ended the call and turned to Saeran. “Jumin will go to her shop right now. He’ll give her the message in person. Also, he’s going to set up a couple of guards to keep an eye on her at a safe distance, just to be sure.”  He rested his hand on Saeran’s shoulder. “She’s safe.  She’s going to stay safe.  She won’t know anything unless you tell her about it later.”  

               “Thank you,” Saeran said, his voice still shaking.

               Vanderwood shook his head, dismissing the thanks. “Why don’t you hang out here for a few minutes, dry your face a bit?  MC is already stressed and she hasn’t had the kind of life we’ve all had. No need to upset her more, right?”

               Saeran lifted a hand to his face.  He hadn’t even realized that he was crying.  Wiping the tears away, he nodded and stepped aside so Vanderwood could return.  After Vanderwood left, Saeran sat on the top step.  He folded his arms over his knees and rested his forehead against them.  How were his brother and Vanderwood going to make sure that everyone would be safe?  How were they going to be able to return to a regular life after this? What if they had to go into hiding? He’d never see her again.  The thought made his chest ache.

               Saeran hadn’t ever really taken an interest in anyone before.  He had just done as Rika told him to do.  MC was the first girl he’d ever liked, but she was with his brother.  Even Saeran knew that meant that they couldn’t be more than friends.  Nina was different.  That day, when he was shopping, Saeran had talked to a lot of different girls at the shops he visited.  The only one he had trouble talking to was Nina.

               At the party, she’d stayed close to him.  He’d caught her looking at him more than a few times.  Exchanging phone numbers had been her idea, probably because he’d been too afraid to ask. Nina was different because she had done everything to show that she was interested, too.  

               Saeran felt a strong desire to make sure that Nina stayed safe, and that he was able to see her again.  He didn’t know how to help, but maybe he could.  He was as good at hacking as his brother was, right? He’d hacked his brother’s security and the messenger!  He could help Saeyoung and Vanderwood.  

               He took a deep breath and made sure that the tears weren’t going to start up again.  Standing, he went back down the stairs.  Vanderwood and Saeyoung were firing up the computers and checking the security on them.  

               “I want to help,” Saeran said, standing at the foot of the stairs.  “I can hack, too.”  

               Vanderwood looked at Saeyoung with a raised eyebrow, leaving the choice to him.  

               “You don’t have to do this,” Saeyoung said. “You’re clear of that stuff now.”

               “I’m not clear, none of us are.  I want to be clear though.  I need to be clear if I’m going to see Nina again.”  There, it was out.  Now his brother could start teasing him about having a crush on someone.

               Saeyoung looked over at MC and smiled softly. “Yeah, that’ll make you do some things, won’t it?”  He turned back to Vanderwood.  “Do you have the stuff for another station?”  

               “Probably.  What do you need?”  

               Saeyoung shrugged.  “Monitor, keyboard, mouse, we can plug him in with those.”  

               “Yeah, I’ll go check,” Vanderwood said, going back up the stairs.  Halfway up, he turned back.  “This needs to be the last trip out today.  Does anyone need anything else?”  

               “PhD Pepper?” Saeyoung asked, looking hopeful.

               “This isn’t a grocery trip,” Vanderwood grumbled. “If you wanted your junk food, you should have stocked it.”  He turned and left the shed.  

               Saeyoung grinned.  “I miss playing with him.”  He walked over to the bunk beds and reached under, pulling out a long chest.  He dragged it back to the table and flipped the lid open.  Inside were bags of Honey Buddah chips and PhD. Pepper cans.  

               “Saeyoung, you are not serious!” MC admonished him. “You stocked your hideout with junk food?  What would you do if you had to be here for more than a day or two?”  

               “What?” he asked her innocently.  “There’s other food here.”  

               “You idiot,” Saeran muttered at him.

               Vanderwood returned and brought the things to set up a work station for Saeran.  Once everything was connected, Vanderwood sat at the far end.  Everyone looked at Saeyoung.

               “Alright, Vanderwood, you keep them off of us. You’re not bad, but Saeran and I are faster and better.  We’ll get into their systems and dump the data out to the press and the authorities. You make sure that they can’t find us while we do it.”  Saeyoung was in charge again, all business.  “Saeran, I want you to come over here and watch what I’m doing.  I’ll get us an opening and I want you to start pulling everything you can from their systems.  I’ll keep them from blocking you.  Let me know when it’s done.”  

               MC sat on the bunk beds, holding Toby and watching as the three men began chasing down The Agency.  She didn’t talk or even leave the bed.  Saeran’s focus became centered on the events at the table.  

               Once Saeyoung had gotten through The Agency’s security, Saeran switched to his station.  He started downloading data as quickly as possible.  He didn’t even know what parts of the data were going to be useful, he just started copying files over as fast as possible.  Time went by at a crawl, watching the files complete their downloads.  The room was silent except for the rattling of keyboards and an occasional, muttered curse word.  

               At some point, MC brought bowls of stew to everyone, insisting that they eat.  Saeran hadn’t realized he was hungry until he started shoveling food into his mouth. Bottles of water appeared on the table next to each of them as the bowls vanished.  When those emptied, new bottles took their places.  Around the edges of his focus, Saeran realized that MC was doing what she could to take care of all of them while they worked.

               “No!  Bring those back!” Saeyoung exclaimed.  

               “Not until later,” MC said, dragging the chest of soft drinks and chips away from Saeyoung.  “You’ve had eight cans of that stuff and two bags of chips.  You’ll make yourself sick,” she scolded him.  

               “But, Babe…” he whined at her.  

               “Saeyoung, no.  I’ll give you some after dinner.”  

               Vanderwood snickered.  “I like her,” he said.  

               Saeyoung sighed, defeated.  “Saeran, all I can say is you should really, really rethink this Nina thing.  Women are trouble.”  

               “You should be thankful there’s one that’s willing to put up with you,” Saeran quipped, starting another set of downloads.

               Saeyoung sighed heavily.  “There was a time when I was a god, you know.”  

               “Only in your own head,” Vanderwood clarified. “Work.  I still have the taser.”

               Saeyoung looked nervous, but fell silent again as Saeran snickered softly with Vanderwood.  

               Saeran watched the files loading across the system and realized how many were left to copy.  Even with the amped up satellite connection, this was taking far too long. The odds of being noticed and traced back grew exponentially the longer they were in the system.  

               “How many individual computers do we have here?” he asked.  

               “Five, why?” Saeyoung looked up at his brother.

               “This is taking too long.  Which machines are standalone?”  

               Saeyoung pointed at the three in the middle of the table, one of which Saeran was already connected to.  

               Checking the progress of the files he’d started pulling, Saeran unplugged the keyboard, monitor and mouse, and switched to another computer.  He started up another set of files to pull down, and then repeated the process on the third machine.

               “Are you sure you can keep up with which files you’re getting?” Saeyoung asked.  

               “Yeah, I can pull directories this way.  It’ll cut the time down.”  Saeran lined up the computers so that he had ready access to the ports to switch out the connections.  “Can you keep up with that many connections?”  

               Saeyoung looked at him dryly.  “Did you really just ask that?”

               “Hey, I’m not the one who thought to have one connection pulling files.”  

               “No fighting,” MC cautioned.  “There’s too much on the line.  You can play who’s better later.”  

               Saeran glanced at her.  She wasn’t even looking at them.  She was sitting in the floor, playing with Toby.  

               Still, time seemed to crawl by.  Vanderwood went up the stairs a few times for a smoke break. Saeran watched his machine while he went.  He bummed a cigarette once, just needing some way to get out of the cramped room and away from the computer.  He stood in the shed, not really smoking the cigarette, stretching to pull the tension from his back and shoulders.

               If the lighting outside was any indication, it was almost nightfall.  He figured that they needed about three more hours to finish pulling the information from The Agency.  Thank god his brother had installed terabytes of drive space in those computers.  There wouldn’t have been enough room any other way. Putting out the cigarette, he headed back down the shaky stairs.  

               “How’s it going over there?” he asked Saeyoung, settling back into his seat.  

               “If they’ve noticed anything, they haven’t reacted. Vanderwood?  Anything?”  

               “Nothing so far, no.  They’re not tracing at all, yet.”  

               “Good,” Saeran said.  “We’re almost through it.”  He switched machines again.  

The three men kept working.  MC brought food around again, stopping to hug Saeyoung as she did.  Saeran’s eyes were burning.  Finally, he started the last round of files.  

“This is it,” he said.  “What do you want me to do when I’ve got these?”  

“Kill the connections.  We’ll drop the satellite link.  We can organize it all offline.  It’ll buy us some time,” Saeyoung said.  His voice sounded tired.  

Saeran watched the files nervously.  He knew his brother was good, and he’d taught Saeyoung the trick he used to make his access unnoticeable.  Still, everything was going too smoothly.  He was afraid that the Agency was just waiting for a chance to strike.  It left a cold pit in his stomach.  He wondered if Saeyoung or Vanderwood felt the same sense of dread.

“Done!” he called out, as soon as the last file finished.  He killed the connections to the Agency servers as quickly as he could.  Saeyoung and Vanderwood did the same.  Vanderwood reached over and pulled the ethernet cables from every computer.

They all sat back, suddenly panting for air, looking at one another for confirmation that they’d been successful.  

“Ya-HOO!” Saeyoung shouted, startling Toby and Saeran both. “Alright, boys, we did it!  All we have to do now is organize this stuff and send it out!  After that, we’re just going to hijack a TV from the hotel and watch the news!”  

“You’re positive,” Saeran asked, “that they didn’t see us or trace the connections?”  

“There was zero activity,” Vanderwood confirmed.  “Even if they bugged the files, we’re offline.  They can’t find us if we’re not connected.”  

“That’s right,” Saeyoung said, his voice sounding cheerful again.  “When we send this out, we’ll leave here, just to be safe.  It won’t matter if they find this place.  It’s just a safehouse.  There’s others.”  

Saeran let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding since the alarm had gone off in the bunker.  “Well, let’s get organizing,” he said, turning back to his monitor.  “How do you want it done?”  

“First, we need to stop,” Saeyoung said.  “Not for long, but we’ve all been here long enough that our eyes are about to pop out.  Take a few minutes, go see your cat.  Your eyes will thank you and you’ll work better.”  

Vanderwood nodded in agreement.  “I’m going to go get a smoke.  I’ll be right back.”  He stood and went up the stairs.

Saeyoung pulled MC into his lap, resting his head against her shoulder and closing his eyes.  As he murmured to her affectionately, Saeran went to see Toby.  A half-eaten plate of stew showed him that MC had at least found a way to feed him.  That was so like her, to take care of things without disturbing anyone else.  

With a full belly, Toby wasn’t interested in playing, but he was happy to lay in Saeran’s lap as he bathed himself.  Saeran realized that despite being in the small room all day, without a litter box, there was no smell of Toby having relieved himself anywhere.  He poked the kitten’s belly, but it didn’t seem overly distended.

“MC?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“Um, I just realized that we don’t have a litter box.  Has Toby… you know?”  

“Oh!”  MC giggled. “I didn’t have anything else to do but watch him, so I’ve just been putting him up on the toilet when he started looking like he needed to go.”  

Saeran blinked in surprise.  He wouldn’t have thought of doing that.  “Oh, okay. Thank you for watching him.”  

“It’s no trouble.  We’ve kept each other company.”  She smiled at him warmly.  

Vanderwood came back down the stairs.  “I checked around outside.  There’s no sign of anyone poking around.  Also, it’s starting to snow.  No one goes out until we’re ready to leave.”  

“Snow is good,” Saeyoung said.  “Any tracks we left will get covered.  That’s a relief.”  

“Are we ready to finish this mess?” Vanderwood asked.

“More than ready,” Saeyoung said, nudging MC to stand up.  “Saeran?”  

“Yeah, be right there.”  He nuzzled Toby before handing the kitten off to MC.  

The hours moved by slowly as each began organizing the information pulled from the servers.  A history of hits on political figures, international dealings, businesses sabotaged, and even falsified criminal evidence to jail people; all the data sorted into neatly referenced lists.  Saeran had to admit that he was impressed by the reach of The Agency, and also a little unnerved by it.  These were the men that they’d escaped, twice now?  His brother and Vanderwood must be better than they let on, Saeran decided. It was the only explanation for how any of them were still alive.  

In the very early hours of the morning, everything was ready.  They prepared the packages to send out to the media and to the authorities.  They were reaching out across international boundaries as well.  Every nation where The Agency had dealings was about to get copies of the information blanketing their media, police, and government agencies.  

“Okay,” Saeyoung said, once it was all set.  “Saeran, take Toby and MC upstairs.  MC, get Elly. The only thing staying behind is the computers.  Vanderwood and I will clear the place.  This will be the least secure place in the world when the news starts getting ahold of this stuff.”  He tugged MC’s coat close around her.  “Stay bundled up.  It’s going to be a few minutes.  We have to make sure that no one can tie us to this place.”  

MC nodded and turned to the stairs, wearing her backpack and carrying Saeyoung’s. Saeran followed her, carrying two of the bags they’d brought and Toby.  It was cold in the shed and his coat wasn’t holding the heat in very well.  His teeth clattered as they waited.  MC held Elly and danced from foot to foot.  Finally, Saeyoung and Vanderwood came up the stairs, hauling the trash and Vanderwood’s large bag with them.  

Saeran snickered at the sight of them.  They were dressed like they were going into surgery.  They wore paper scrubs, gloves, masks, and funny little paper hats.  All he could see was their eyes, and both shot him a look that killed his amusement.

“Everybody out,” Vanderwood said.  

Luciel led the way out to his car.  He slung Vanderwood’s bag into the back seat and opened the front door for MC.  “Time to go, babe,” he said to her.  

“What about Vanderwood?” she asked.

“He’ll be meeting us.  Don’t worry.” He grinned at her.  “I only half joked about him being my maid.”  

As they pulled out onto the street, Saeyoung shed the cap and mask.  He pulled the scrubs down as well.  

“Why were you two wearing all that, anyway?” Saeran asked.  

“Because the locals will be looking for evidence.  That means DNA evidence, too.  They’ll be looking for hair and anything else they can find.  So, we cleaned up.  There’s nothing left down there to lead anyone to us, now,” Saeyoung explained.  

“And yet you can’t clean your room?” Saeran teased.

“Hey, that’s a whole different kind of cleaning!” Saeyoung protested.  

“I think I may have to agree with Saeran on this one,” MC chuckled.  “If you can clean so well that not even a hair is left behind, I think you might have to start hitting the hamper with your laundry.”  

“Save the world, bring down the evil spy network, put your laundry in the hamper…” Saeyoung whined.  “Are you ever satisfied?” he grinned at MC.  

She didn’t say a word, but Saeran caught her meaningful grin as they passed under a streetlight.  He felt his face grow red and focused on Toby.  

MC fell asleep, leaning against Saeyoung’s arm as he drove them out of town and down to a dock.  When he pulled in, he sat her up gently and whispered to Saeran, “Keep an eye out?  I’m just going to make sure it’s clear.”  

“You own a boat?” Saeran asked in surprise.  

“No, Jumin does.  We’re borrowing one for a few days,” Saeyoung grinned.  “It’ll be great!  You should see the stars when you’re out at sea!”  He opened the door and stepped out.  “Be right back,” he said, closing the car up again.  

Saeran looked out the windows of the car.  The docks below were well-lit.  There would be no sneaking onto a boat with that much lighting.  On the flip side, it also meant that if anyone tried to sneak up on them, they’d be less likely to be able to hide.  

Suddenly Saeran saw headlights coming down the road.  He reached over the seat and shook MC awake.  “Someone’s coming.  Quickly, follow me and stay down.”  They slid out of the car on the side away from the approaching lights, following Saeyoung’s footsteps to the trail in the trees.  Toby was once again trapped in Saeran’s coat, and MC carried Elly in her arms.  Saeran led her off the trail and they crouched behind a low wall with trash bins in front of it.  As a person passed by, heading down the trail, Saeran signaled for her to stay still, and snuck around to see who was on the trail.

He sighed in relief.  “Vanderwood,” he called, standing slowly.  

Vanderwood stopped and turned.  “There you are!  I thought you’d all gone down to the boat.  I was going to hand Seven his head for not checking it out first!”  

“No, he left a few minutes ago.  Should he be back already?”  

Vanderwood frowned.  “How few?”

“Maybe five before you got here?” Saeran said as MC joined them on the trail.

“No, that’s fine.  He should be getting back here any minute though.  Can you two handle waiting where you were?  I know it’s cold.  I’ll go see if everything…”

Vanderwood was cut off as a roar filled the air and an explosion shook the area. A fireball rose from where the cars had been parked.  

“Run!” Vanderwood shouted, shoving MC in front of him and almost dragging her by her arm as he raced down the trail.  

Saeran ran after him.  In his mind all he could think was “not again, not again,”  

Saeyoung sprinted up the trail toward them, grabbing MC and running with her back the way he’d come.  He and Vanderwood shouted about whether the boat was secure or not, and that Saeyoung had made sure that it was.  Saeyoung pulled MC onto the boat at the end of the dock and Vanderwood untied the moorings, throwing the heavy ropes to Saeran.  Saeyoung started the motor and was pulling away from the docks when several men appeared at the other end of the dock.  

“Everyone down!” Vanderwood barked.  “Seven, move this tub!”  

Saeran looked up just in time to see one of the men on the dock pull out what looked like a rocket launcher.  He ducked, but when nothing happened, he looked up to see Jumin’s body guards swarming the men who had appeared.  One waved in their direction.  Saeyoung blew the horn on the boat and steered them away from the docks and out to the open ocean.  

As the lights faded, Vanderwood rose to his feet.  “Is everyone alright?” he asked.  “Did anyone get hurt?”

“No, I’m fine,” MC said.  

“Saeran?” he asked.

“I’m good.  What the hell happened?  How did they find us?”  Saeran asked.

“Who knows,” Vanderwood said.  “Maybe they knew about Jumin’s boat and were watching the area.  Thank god he knew we’d be heading this way and had backup ready. If they’d gotten that rocket launched…” He shook his head.  

“Seven!  Did you even plot a course for this thing?” he bellowed, stepping up the ladder to the bridge.

Saeran turned to MC.  “Let’s get inside,” he said.  “It’s too cold out here.”  

MC nodded, rising to her feet.  She shuffled down the stairs and opened the narrow door.  Inside, they fumbled around until they found the light switch.  

Saeran had never been on a boat before.  He saw a small kitchen area, a table, and a door at the far end of the space. Another door was directly behind the one they’d just come through.  He looked at MC, wondering what to do about sleeping space.

MC looked back and set Elly on the floor.  Sighing, she mumbled, “I don’t even care.”  She laid down on a bench by the table, pulling her coat close.

Saeyoung came through the door behind Saeran just then.  “Babe, no, come on, there’s a bed here,” he said, squeezing by his brother.  He got MC back up on her feet and guided her to the door at the far end.  Opening the door, he revealed a bed on the other side and helped her scoot into it.  He crawled in after her but emerged again a few minutes later.

“Thank you,” he said to Saeran, after he closed the door.  “I owe you her life.”  

“I wouldn’t have moved if I hadn’t seen Vanderwood driving up,” Saeran said, shaking his head.  “You really lived this way?” he asked Saeyoung.

“Well, usually I was the one doing the chasing, but yeah, this is about how it went.  Why?”  

“I couldn’t do it,” Saeran admitted, leaning against the wall behind him.

“You could, if you had to,” Saeyoung shrugged.  “Here, though, you’re probably tired, too.  If you open that door, there’s a small bunk in there.  You should find a storage above the bed with some blankets in it.  Get some rest.”  

“What about you?” Saeran asked.  “You can’t stand up there all night in the cold.  Neither can Vanderwood.”  

Saeyoung chuckled.  “Not to worry.  Jumin has this baby all set up for winter travel.  We have heat, blankets, coffee and even PhD Pepper!”  He laughed.  “I’ll get some sleep in a while.  First we have to get away from shore and away from the shipping lanes.  Go to bed little brother.  You’ve earned it.”  

“Saeyoung?” Saeran asked, as his brother climbed the stairs again.

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to be able to go home again, right?  I mean, I know the bunker is gone, but, we’ll have a home, somewhere?” Saeran couldn’t bring himself to ask the question he wanted to ask the most.

“Yeah, hang in there for me.  It’ll be a few days, but we’re going back.  You’ll get to see Nina again.  I promise.”

Saeran smiled his thanks.  He knew that his brother had known what was going on inside his head.  He hadn’t expected it to be recognized so clearly, but it made him feel better.  He crawled into the odd little bed, closing the door behind himself.  Finding the storage Saeyoung mentioned, he pulled out a couple of heavy blankets and wrapped himself and Toby in a cocoon.  As soon as he was warm enough to relax, he fell asleep.

#mystic messenger #707's Route #saeran choi #saeyoung choi #Vanderwood

[smile-smile-ichthys]

Behind the Scenes - Zen Fanfic - Final Chapter

Title: Behind the Scenes Game: Mystic Messenger Characters: Zen X MC, 707, Yoosung, Echo Girl Rating: Mature, it has a little smut in chapter 7 and swearing Description: For self insert month I have written a multichapter fanfic about Zen meeting me at a theatre and how we fall in love. Can we get over the issue of the possibility of a long distance relationship? Maybe it’s Echo Girl who’s our true obstacle ;) Chapters: 1,2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Final chapter guys, thanks for giving such lovely feedback for this self insert! Enjoy!

Tagging the usual lovelies @hifftn @obiwanmcprobie @nitelotus @tygerlander and @basically-lol

Zen has entered the chatroom.

Zen: Seven? You here?

707 has entered the chatroom.

707: I am now, what’s up?

Zen: I need a favour, remember Heather?

707: I couldn’t forget her even if I wanted to, what’s happened?

 Heather’s POV

That evening felt longer than it needed to. Almost as soon as I had sat down on the sofa, my phone rang, a little louder than I remember setting it. I didn’t even need to look at the caller ID, I knew it was work back at home.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Heather? Hi, it’s Kat” she said, thankfully not sounding too upset.

“Hi Kat, how are you?” I asked.

“Could be better, what’s happened over there? We got a phone call from one of the managers saying all these things, negative things, accusing you of whispering them” she said.

A good boss to the end Kat was. She was a little angel.

“I honestly have no idea, I was literally just about to start my shift this evening, when the manager called me into the office, that’s what she said I had said those things, but I didn’t Kat, I assure you!” I defended myself.

“Oh don’t worry, we know you wouldn’t say those things, but we weren’t really able to fix the hurt the rumours that have been spread, all they told us was some woman called Echo Girl is the accuser” Kat explained calmly “All I know of her is that she’s a high profile actor, and you know people believe actors over Front of House staff”

“Yeah, I’m sorry this has happened” I apologised.

“Nah, don’t worry about it, their loss eh?” she said.

I could tell she was upset and disappointed this hadn’t worked out, you and me both Kat.

“So, should I just approach the other theatre?” I asked.

“…about that, this isn’t about your performance! Not in the slightest! But we think you should just come back to England and we’ll regroup”

“Let me guess, the rumour has spread to the other theatre?” I asked.

“Sadly yes”

“Then ok, I’ll pack and find a flight for the day after tomorrow, sound good?”

It saddened me greatly that this had all happened, and so fast. Problem was, there was nothing I could do. Some battles I couldn’t fight, and this one I certainly couldn’t. For one thing, if they wanted to believe an actress over me, fine, like Kat had said, it was their loss.

The only thing that was breaking my heart was Zen. How on earth would I tell him that I was leaving already? Our relationship was short lived.

Once Kat had hung up on me, I was about to text Zen when my phone pinged at me. Zen had beaten me to the punch.

‘Don’t worry, I’m going sort this out! X’

Was all the text read. I did reply asking what he was on about, but I got no reply. I even tried calling him, at least to tell him about me leaving but he didn’t answer.

Throughout the entire evening and next day I kept trying to call him with no answer, and since my flight was getting closer and closer I ended up leaving a message.

“Hey Zen…erm, look something happened at work, not sure if you had heard but I won’t be working there anymore due to rumours and such, anyway, my work back at home asked me to fly back tomorrow morning and I’d like to see you before I fly, call me? Please? My flight leaves at 9am, hopefully I’ll see you before then…erm…yeah, take care”

I hung up and placed my phone on my coffee table. What the hell was he doing? I didn’t want to fly back to England without speaking to him. I checked the clock and sighed when I saw how early it was, it felt so much later. I couldn’t go to bed yet, even if I had to be up for my flight the next day, and I kinda wanted to give Zen some time to call before I slept. Long flights sucked, but at least it was going from west to east, it was easier to get over jetlag that way. I was thinking about Jetlag? Wow I lead a sad life.

I dragged myself to the kitchen and made myself some tea when my phone went off. Expecting it to be Zen I almost leapt at it to answer.

“Zen?” I asked.

“Nope, agent 707 here, sorry to disappoint” Seven chuckled and I sighed heavily.

“What’s up?” I asked, remembering I did give him my number.

“Zen told me to tell you something, go to the theatre” he said.

“Why?”

“He told me about you losing the contract with the place due to Echo Girl and…”

“He knew?!” I asked, had Il-sung found out and told him? Too late to ask now, he knew.

“Yeah, when he found out he asked me to help, he remembered…are you leaving the house yet?” he asked a little pushy.

I jumped to my feet and pulled my shoes on, heading out the door as I’m told.

“Yeah, yeah I’m heading over there now”

“Good, anyway, so he remembered that you told him you were keeping a dated diary on your laptop so I hacked in and send the theatre manager a copy, by the way, I’ll set up better security for you, and Zen then went to the manager himself and gave his side of the story, now since they’ve worked with Zen personally for so long they trusted him and now, well, now they feel bad and want to talk to you” Seven explained.

“They do? Seven you hacked into my laptop?!”

“Yeah and I said I’ll get you better security calm down” he laughed.

He was laughing at a time like this?

“Anyway, since Zen is busy with the performance he was unable to call you so when he heard about your flight he got me to call, and here we are, so get over there now, please”

“I’m on my way, you calm down” I said.

When I was finally parked and at stage door once again, my heart began to race. The play was still going on when I arrived and the manager came down to fetch me. Her face was full of guilt and sombreness, she obviously felt bad at what she had said to me, but I didn’t blame her. She was given information from a trusted source on her part and she was hurt, it was a natural human reaction. However, it was unprofessional to jump to conclusions like that, so I knew this meeting would take a while.

We talked, she apologised, I did too being the Brit I was, and we talked some more. Due to time zones between South Korea and back home, we were able to hold a conference phone call to discuss what happened next. I was so grateful that it was Kat on the phone on the other line, she full on defended me, reassuring me beyond belief.

After an exceedingly long meeting, reviewing notes and such, we eventually came to an agreement for me to continue working with them. Kat cancelled my flight for me and sorted out my flat. I was so relieved that I was going to continue working with these people. Sure it was going to be a little awkward at first, but I know we could make it work some-how. Just like me and Zen in a way. Zen.

As soon as the meeting was done, I almost raced out once I saw the time. The show had finished ten minutes ago and Zen would be leaving. I wanted to catch him in person rather than calling him. I ran to stage door and I kind of expected to have missed him, which I thought I had when I saw the place empty. Well, empty apart from Echo Girl. My Gosh, even just the sight of her angered me.

“So, you’re staying?” she asked, arms folded “Bet Zen will be happy”

“I can’t say for him but I know I’m happy, lies that are spread in malice always get found out Echo Girl” I said firmly, holding my ground.

“Zen deserves better” she said.

“Ok, I have one question, why? Why are you so awful towards me? I have done nothing to you, shown you nothing but kindness and you try to get me fired and ruin my reputation? Just, why?” I asked, but I stopped her from talking before she could even start “Actually…you know what? You’re so hung up on a guy that you’re becoming delusional” I smiled kindly at her “give yourself some space from guys, yeah? Learn to love yourself for who you are, I know for a fact the guy you deserve will come find you when you’re ready, but it’s not Zen, stop trying to force things that aren’t going to happen, free yourself my lovely” I said, moving past her to leave the building.

“Wait…” I heard her say “…he’s in his dressing room, he hasn’t gone yet” she said.

It warmed my heart that she was finally melting in front of me. Show someone kindness, and hopefully they will show you some too.

“Thank you” I said, hugging her before heading back inside.

I walked over the stage to reach his dressing room when I saw him walking towards me.

“Zen” I said, smiling widely.

“How did it go?” he asked, rushing over to me.

“Not good, they still believe Echo Girl so…I’m sorry but this is goodbye” I said with a straight face. Zen’s features fell, in complete shock he hugged me.

“No, no I’m not letting you go, we’ll go talk to them again, we’ll sort someth…you’re joking aren’t you?” he said, seeing the smile creep onto my face.

“Of course you knacker brain, I’m staying for my contracted months, you’re stuck with me” I chuckled, but he pulled me close to him, kissing me gently.

“Nah, you’re stuck with me”

 Epilogue

“Zen…” I said, holding the phone close to my ear.

“Oh and Jumin said he’ll get driver Kim to pick us up, I didn’t ask him to, but Mr Trustfund Kid insisted, Seven and Yoosung want to eat at that BBQ place, they said you’ll like it and man, I can’t wait for you to finally meet Jaehee, you’ll love her! She’s…”Zen ranted on his end of the phone and I couldn’t help but smile.

It had been a long 6 months, and an even longer 8 months in total. A whole 2 months without Zen by my side, but it gave me time to work things out back at home. It turns out that my company wanted my new job to be in South Korea and/or home, completely my choice, since I was going to be in charge of the relationship between the two countries. I’d spend 9 months in South Korea with the final 3 back home. That was the agreement, starting today. And here I was, making my way through baggage reclaim on the phone with Zen who was waiting in arrivals for me.

I never thought in a million years I’d be actually moving to a completely different country to work, live and love someone, it was exhilarating! And hearing Zen’s excitement over the phone encouraged me greatly that I had made the right decision.

“…there’s fish bread at my place so we’ll…” he continued and I laughed when I saw him in arrivals ranting away. He hadn’t spotted me yet and for a few seconds I stood and just watched him being an adorable dork.

“Zen…Zen, look to your left please” I cut him off.

“My left?...Oh my God, hi!” he grinned, hanging up and opening his arms to me.

New life, new love, I couldn’t wait to get started.

 Heather has entered the chat room.

Seven: Heather!

Yoosung: Hi Heather!

Jaehee: Welcome to the RFA Heather, if you have any questions just ask.

Jumin: Welcome.

Heather: Thanks guys, I’m all settled at Zen’s place and I can’t wait for the meal tomorrow night, I’ve missed you all.

Seven: Even Jumin?

Heather: Even Jumin!

Jumin: I’m not sure what you mean by that Seven but I’ll overlook it for nonkccdhjdjdhqhahwmc

……

Unknown: Welcome….hahahahahahahaaaaaa

Bncgdhjdcckdnddanfuoehfuibekjbeknv83yr1onlkr

 My phone screen went all funny and blurry, so I showed it to Zen.

“That’s strange? Switch it off for now, we can get Seven to take a look at it tomorrow” he said, kissing my head gently.

“Yeah, okey dokey, I’m sure it’s nothing” I grinned, switching it off and taking Zen’s hand, leading him to the bedroom, we had time to make up for.

#mystic messenger #zen #hyunryu #jumin han #jaehee #yoosung #707 #behind the scenes #final chapter