#they make me sick I fear there isn’t another duo like these two | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bonnyskies · 3 years

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deadly agenda ⇢ myg

min yoongi is a dangerous man. you’re a manipulative wife. together, you two are a deadly duo, and you both have your own agenda.

pairing — emperor!yoongi x wife!malereader ft. king-husband!taehyung

genres — angst, sexual themes, royalty!au, strangers-to-lovers!au

warnings — age-gap (reader is 20, yoongi is 28), swearing, degrading terms, mentions of death, feminization, descriptions of murder, sexual themes, infidelity, betrayal, slight voyeurism, yoongi is intimidating and reader is manipulative, basically they’re just plain evil

author’s note — i hate tumblr’s new update. i had more to write (not enough for a part two) but couldn’t because of the new 250 text box rule. but as for this story, this is probably the longest one i’ve written so far and the one i’m most proud of. anyway, hope you all enjoy and sorry for taking so long to upload this, took lots of planning and rewriting, plus i’ve been busy with school too.

word count — 7.4k

masterlist

Min Yoongi is a cautious, yet observant man.

Whoever steps foot in his palace, he makes sure to know everything about them. Who they are, they’re background, appearance, and how they approach him. Each and every thing can help him learn who he can trust, and who he cannot, who are his allies—and who are his enemies.

Yoongi stood by his palace’s entrance, accompanied with his guards and greeted his special guests, one by one as they walked up his home’s grand steps. He makes sure to take notes on each and every person’s facial expression, their appearance, chosen attire, and the certain way they walk up to him.

Anything could benefit him into knowing them. Their wealth and clan can be identified based on their specific appearance and choice of clothing. Their facial expressions help him learn what their true feelings and intentions are towards him that are hidden by their fake smiles and words. And lastly, the way they walk up to him can help him know the type of personality they have, whether that be obedient and innocent, or arrogant and untrustworthy.

The way he learns about his guests have never failed him. That was, until he met you.

Yoongi would be lying if he said he wasn’t astonished when his eyes laid on you for the first time. There were many things that left him utterly speechless when meeting you. For one, when his advisor told him that his guest would be bringing his wife, he was expecting a woman—not a man.

Another thing that left Yoongi speechless was your appearance, mostly your attire. You were dressed in feminine-like clothing, silk robes that were decorated with gold jewelry instead of fine material clothing with armor plating like what many men of royalty wear. And you also didn’t hold a blade like most men do too. Instead, you held a simple wooden decorative fan.

And lastly, your eyes.

Yoongi has a remarkable judge of character. Maybe not as good when it came to you, but still adequate. On the outside, your eyes were shining with gentleness and a kind greeting. But he could tell there was something else hidden behind them—something that left him intrigued by you.

You had an agenda—plans, and Yoongi was determined to find out what they are.

The welcoming feast was extremely dull.

Yoongi absorbed gallons of wine into his system, hoping that would help numb his mind and get through the rest of the evening without having to tear somebody’s head off from their body.

And apparently you thought the same as he did. Across the table, Yoongi watched as you fanned yourself out of boredom while everyone else were socializing with one another, an unamused facial expression shown on your face. Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle behind his glass when seeing one of the other wives say something to you and you flashed her a quick smile before dropping it back down into a straight line.

It seems his attention on you didn’t go unnotice because next thing he knew, your eyes were now on him. Yoongi was expecting hints of disgust or uncomfort from you, but instead he was met with sly smirk and a raised brow.

Yoongi watches intently as you leaned over and whispered into your husband’s ear. Your husband—Kim Taehyung then stood up from his seat and bowed his head, “Excuse me, your Majesty.”

Yoongi turned his head towards your husband, diverting his attention completely away from you.

“My wife is not feeling well at the moment, so with your permission, would it be alright if he can take his leave from the feast early?”

The entire dining hall fell silent, shocked expressions plastered on everyone’s faces at the table.

Nobody has ever dared to leave one of Min Yoongi’s feasts before. Who would want to, right? It’s considered a great honor for one self and their kingdom to be invited by the Emperor himself to attend one of his events.

Whispers began to spread amongst the guests.

“How shameless is Kim Taehyung’s wife?”

“Wanting to leave the Emperor’s feast early? Utterly shameless I tell you.”

“That Taehyung needs to discipline his wife.”

“Doesn’t he know how important his Majesty’s events are? And he wants to leave just because he isn’t feeling well? Unbelievable.”

“He needs to learn some manners—”

Anxiety swept across Taehyung’s face when hearing the gossips coming from the other royals, eyes wide and mouth gaped open with panic. “Forgive me, your Majesty, I never intended to—”

With just the clear of his throat, everybody fell silent once again and all eyes were now on him. Yoongi’s gaze would shift between you and your husband, curiosity filling his veins when noticing that there wasn’t any signs of illness presently visible on you. You weren’t trembling, your eyes weren’t red and skin wasn’t showing any signs of flushness. You looked fine.

That only caused more questions to form in Yoongi’s mind. Like, what do you exactly want, and what is your reason for being here? Because according to his advisor, you weren’t even part of the guest list until today. That only raised even more suspicions he had towards you.

And it’s not like he can just throw you out—actually, he can. It’s just that he doesn’t want to because now he’s curious, and he wants to see how things turn out.

“He can go,” Yoongi says a brief silence, immediately noticing the small smile creeping onto your lips. “But take him to see the physician and let him check him out,” and then it dropped.

“N-No, your Majesty,” you spoke up, lips parted. “You don’t have to do that—”

“You’re feeling unwell, right?” Yoongi then asks, smirking at the silence he got in reply. “Well, you should let my physician diagnose you then. Don’t worry though, you’re in great hands.”

One of his guards that stood by his side approached you and started to guide you to the physician’s office. And while you were leaving, Yoongi could see the glare coming from you and aimed right at him.

If you wanted to play games with him, he’ll play.

Wandering through the palace halls at night was something Yoongi usually does whenever he can’t sleep.

And apparently you had the same tendency too.

While mindlessly strolling through his palace’s hallways, Yoongi’s eyes suddenly landed on your approaching figure, the first thing catching his attention was your choice of clothing. You were dressed in golden inner robes, your sleep-wear, and the material was so thin and transparent that every feature about you was visible to him. The sight of your clear, smooth skin and every curve of your body and muscles made his mouth water. It was like you were purposely dressed like that to seduce him.

Another thing that caught his eye was the small, slightly torn grayish book that was in your grasp, which was where your complete attention was on because you still haven’t noticed his presence despite the two of you walking towards the other.

“Hello, your Highness,” you jumped out of fear, eyes wide and closing your book when your gaze landed on him. “May I ask why you are wandering around my palace this late at night?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you simply answered, fingers tight around the cover the book, which only made Yoongi even more curious as to what you were exactly reading. “And it seems you are having the same problem as well, am I correct?”

Yoongi only hummed in reply, taking another small step towards you until you two now stood only inchest apart, him towering over you and staring down right at you. “Is there something wrong with your chambers? I can tell my servants to move you and your husband into a more comfortable place for you—”

“No no, your Majesty,” you were quick to interject. “Everything is perfect. It’s just that I’ve always had trouble sleeping at another royal’s residence, that’s all.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but find your reason funny, because he has always had trouble sleeping when there were other people staying in his palace.

A brief silence came between you two before Yoongi spoke up once again, “I’ll be taking a quick walk around my garden, you can accompany me if you like.” He didn’t wait for your reply before leaving, but when hearing the sound of your footsteps behind him right after, a smirk grew on his lips.

“You know, you never really introduced yourself when we first met,” Yoongi then brought up while the two of you made your way to the gardens.

“Forgive me, your Majesty,” you bowed your head apologetically before replying, “My name is ___, Kim ___.”

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Kim ___,” Yoongi reached down and took your hand into his, pressing a soft, yet tender kiss on the back of your palm, smirking at the evident blush forming on your cheeks. “And I’ve got to say, you are looking quite well for someone that claimed to be feeling sick not even three hours ago,” and that is when your smile dropped.

“Must’ve been my anxiety,” you were quick to reply back, your eyes never leaving his. “After all, I am staying at the Emperor’s palace for the first time.”

Yoongi was impressed honestly, he had to admit. For everything he had to say against you, you had something say right back at him. There isn’t a lot of people who have that type of skill to think of words—believeable words right on the spot. Anybody would believe what you were saying—too bad he isn’t just anybody.

“Must be...,” Yoongi just says, eyeing you slightly. His gaze then shifted onto the book in your hand. “What are you reading there?”

“Oh this,” you held the book up, “It’s called Flowers of the Region—a guide to every type of flower that is grown and can be found in both the South and the North. It’s my favorite book.”

“Well, that’s fortunate,” Yoongi points out, “you like flowers, and we so happen to be going to my garden. What’s your favorite flower?”

“Lily of the Valley,” you answer with a smile. “Have you heard of it?”

“I have,” Yoongi replied, his interest towards you growing even more. Lily of the Valley, despite the beautiful features of the white flower, it is proven to be quite deadly when digested. “They are only found on top of the Southern mountains—but lucky for you, I happen to grow them right here in my garden.”

Your smile grew even wider. “That’s great.”

The rest of the walk to the gardens was in silence with you trailing forward while Yoongi stood back. And with your eyes focused on the path in front of you, Yoongi couldn’t help but send glances at you every once in a while, his eyes burning into your back, admiring at the clear view your smooth skin through the thin, transparent material of your inner robes.

He surely needs to give whoever crafted your sleepwear a raise—and a big one too.

When the two of you finally got to the gardens, you were left instantly speechless at the sight of the many plots of different flowers, ranging from beautiful, vibrant ones that were quite common to dark, mysterious ones that you’ve never even seen before.

Yoongi couldn’t deny how adorable you looked though when seeing his garden for the first time, eyes wide, shining with admiration and your mouth gaped open.

“This is beautiful,” you gasped, leaning down and running your fingers delicately over some flowers.

“Thank you,” Yoongi stood beside you, “I make sure my gardeners take good care of this place.”

Silenced filled the atmosphere as Yoongi stood back and silently watched you admiring the many flowers. Normally he’d be annoyed for someone touching his property, but for some odd reason when it came to you he didn’t mind so much. Perhaps it’s because this might be the only way for him to get close to you and learn about your true intentions—or maybe he just really wants to fuck you.

Yoongi found himself once again staring at you, watching as you bent over to get a closer look at one of the flowers, giving him a perfect view of your ass and hips, both in which he wants to grab and caress with his large hands.

“So,” Yoongi spoke up after some silence, “how exactly did you become the new Lady Kim?”

Yoongi instantly noticed the way your body tensed from his question. “I was his Highness’s personal servant. When his wife suddenly passed away, he was a complete mess and I was the only one that stayed by his side through the entire mourning process. I was the one that comforted him whenever he was feeling down, I made sure he was taking care of himself and helped him with his royal duties.”

Yoongi then noticed your shoulder slumping. “After about a month or so, he started seeking me for a...different kind of comfort.” Sex. “Soon later he decided to make his new wife—the new Lady Kim.”

“You don’t seem so happy about the change in position,” Yoongi commented, “I’m sure this is much better than being a simple servant. You’re a royal now.”

“Oh, I am,” you quickly corrected him, “But being a man and having a feminine title can sometimes make things complicated.”

“Well then, don’t make them complicated.” Yoongi suggested, “You’re not a servant anymore, you’re a royal. They may not respect you now, but you have the power to make them do so.”

“Don’t worry, I know,” you told him sternly. “They’ll learn to respect me. Whether that be the hard way or the easy way—it’s their choice. So you better watch out, your Majesty, or something bad might happen to you,” you laughed softly.

Yoongi released a forceful chuckle, eyes briefly squinting at you suspiciously. It may have sound like a harmless joke, but to him, he could hear the small hints of truth behind them. “Oh trust me, I will. I wouldn’t want you as an enemy.”

“And you as well,” you replied, eyeing him back.

Silence came between you two again, Yoongi leaving you to inspect his garden in peace while he stood back and watched you. It wasn’t until an hour has passed you spoke up again, yawning, “we should head back to bed, your Majesty. We have that conference in the morning with the other royals and we need the energy.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi agreed, nodding and stepping aside so that you could walk ahead of him and back inside the place with him following right beside you. “Let me walk you back to your room.”

You didn’t say anything, only held your head low to hide the small grin on your face as the both of you made your back to the chambers. And as you two got closer to your destination, you both were froze at the sound of moaning.

Yoongi was confused at first as who it could be, but when turning to you and seeing the hardened expression on your face, he knew.

“O-Oh, Taehyung—f-faster, please!”

Yoongi was speechless. He knew many royals took on concubines while being married, but he didn’t know someone could so shameless as to bringing them to another person’s residence alongside their spouse. “Your Highness—”

“Don’t bother, your Majesty,” you spoke calmly, eyes hard and emotionless. “I’m use to it by now and it doesn’t really bother me anymore.”

“Really, it doesn’t?”

You shook your head. “At first it did, but after sleeping with my husband so many times I have learned that the only person he cares to satisfy is himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle. What kind of husband doesn’t have the desire to satisfy is own wife? Maybe he should take you to his chambers and show you exactly what you’re missing. “Well, I-I’m still sorry for you.”

You simply shrugged your shoulders, “it doesn’t matter, your Majesty. Have a good night.”

Yoongi watched as you then opened the door went inside the chamber, causing your husband and the woman to stop and look at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t mind me,” you said to them, not even bothering to glance at them, shocking Yoongi. “I’ll be on the balcony reading my book. Just let me when you two are done.”

Taehyung’s attention instantly went back to the woman that was straddling his lap when hearing your words, hands kneading her breasts and hips and started thrusting back up into her, causing moans to erupt from both of them. Yoongi didn’t why, but the sight of them made his blood boil.

Maybe he should go in there and fuck you in front of your husband? That’ll show him what he is missing out.

Yoongi continued to watch through the crack in the door as you walked past the couple and went onto the balcony. And once you were out of his sight, that’s when he finally got a clear view of the woman on your husband’s lap, and he instantly recognized her. She was one of the servants that accompanied you and Taehyung here. Yoongi distinctly remembered seeing her earlier today, serving you tea after you got back from seeing the physician.

Yoongi glared at the couple, scoffing at the sight. What did that Kim Taehyung see in that whore of a servant that you don’t have?

You are far more enticing than she is.

Taking one last glance at the shameless couple, Yoongi retreated back to his chambers. And while he did so, his mind suddenly went back to you. How did someone so...unique end up with a man like Kim Taehyung? He’s a weak person, a shame to royal blood. You deserve to be with someone with real power, someone who would never leave you unsatisfied, both physically and emotionally. Someone like me.

Yoongi could feel himself harden just from the thought of you.

Damn you for having this type of power over me, his mind cursed. Yoongi has slept with countless of other royals before, both men and women, and he has never encountered someone like you.

You are truly something else.

“Damn,” Yoongi mumbled out to nobody in particular, palming himself through his robes. “How the hell am I going to get rid of this?”

And right on queue, a young servant boy just happened to be walking right by Yoongi when the question ran through his head.

“Stop,” was all he said, making the servant boy freeze in his place.

“Y-Yes, your Majesty?”

Yoongi took slow, intimidating steps towards him until he was towering over him, using his hands to cup his chin and forcing the servant boy to meet his eyes. “How would you feel having the honor of spending the night with your Emperor?”

The servant boy couldn’t stop the small smile from forcing on his face. “I-I would love that, your Majesty.”

That was Yoongi needed to hear before leaning down capturing the servant’s boys lips with his, hands moving to his thighs and hoisting him up in his arms and carrying him into his chambers, lips never separating.

“You’re a eager one, are you?” Yoongi chuckled against the servant boy’s mouth, moving his lips down his neck and forcing a whimpering moan from him.

“I-It’s my duty to serve y-you, your Majesty.”

That brought a smile on Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi couldn’t find you anywhere the next day.

He couldn’t find at you breakfast, he couldn’t find you during the conference with the other royals and their wives, and he couldn’t find you at lunch. Now as dinner was approaching, there still wasn’t any sign of you anywhere.

But he had no problem finding your husband. Wherever he saw Taehyung, he saw that whore of a servant trailing behind him like a pet—but you no where to be seen.

Yoongi thought about approaching him to ask about your whereabouts, but he couldn’t help but think of the consequences that would happen afterwards. But that still didn’t stop him from sending glares at the younger royal and the servant every now and then, which didn’t go unnotice by either of them.

“Is there something wrong, your Majesty,” Taehyung finally asks, breaking the tensed silence between the two of them. “You’ve been staring at me all day today and haven’t said a single word.”

“Oh nothing,” Yoongi simply replies, eyes still trained on him while twirling his glass of wine. “Just wondering where your wife is at right now, since everyone else is here. Is he still not feeling well from last night?”

For a very very brief moment, Yoongi could see panic glinting in his eyes before answering, “o-oh yes, your Majesty, he told me that he’s still feeling unwell so I allowed him stay back in the room.”

Liar, was Yoongi’s first thought, eyes glaring even more at the long, black-haired royal.

Everyone at the table could feel the tension between their Emperor and the young royal, and still no one chose to speak up about it.

Yoongi had a reputation. He is the first ever Emperor to achieve the throne through combat rather than family bloodline—and he is also the youngest ruler to ever be placed higher than a simple king. But that weren’t the only things he was known for. He was also generally known for being intelligent and quite reserved, and cruel if absolutely necessary, and also able to hold a grudge. It may sound simple, but everybody knew that if their Emperor had something against you, your days were limited.

So that’s why nobody chose to speak up when seeing the menancing glares their Emperor were sending at the youngest and only surviving Kim. Because they knew if they intervened, they’d only anger him and get on his list, and that’s the exact opposite of what they want to do.

“Your Majesty,” his advisor suddenly whispered right beside him. “I think it would be a good idea to continue the meeting. Some of your guests has some things to say about the...improvements you’re doing to the North.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw, eyes scanning over Taehyung once more before turning his attention to the other royals. “Sure,” he then says, “which one of you want to speak first?”

Not even a second later, Park Jimin, ruler of the Park Kingdom stood up from his seat and spoke. “Your Majesty, my council and I believe that the border that you have placed around my region is completely unnecessary.”

“How so?” Yoongi asks, leaning back against his chair with an amused look on his face. He had to admit that he was impressed that the blonde man was the first to speak up. He may not be the youngest royal out of everyone, but he certainly is the one with the least experience when it came politics.

“For starters your border cuts right through my kingdom’s river, slicing our water supply in half,” he starts, voice slightly raising. “And the amount of wood you required for the construction of the wall resulted in about ninety percent of the forests in my region to be completely cut down, forcing most of my workers into unemployment.”

Yoongi continued to listen closely with his hands laced together and resting on top of his chest, rocking back and forth in his chair with an intent glint in his eyes.

“I also find it completely unfair how your border only crosses over my kingdom but no one else’s.” Jimin continued to rant, jamming his finger repeatedly angerly against the table while keeping his eye contact with him. “I think it’s not for protection like you have claimed many of times, but as a prison, to keep my people in check. You’re nothing but a—”

Yoongi slammed his hand heavily onto the table, instantly silencing the young royal and causing everyone to gulp nervously. He may at times find it amusing when someone fights back, but he will never allow anyone to talk down against him, not in his own residence.

“You think I built that wall as a prison?” Yoongi asks, chuckling when the blonde man didn’t reply. “Are you forgetting what happened before I built that wall? Spies from the South would come right into our territories and would gather information on us, murder our people in their sleep—that’s how your parents died, am I correct? Some spy that sneaked into their palace assassinated them when they were asleep? It would such a shame if the same thing happens to you—after I take down the wall, of course.”

Yoongi smirked when noticing the seeing Jimin’s jaw clenching and hands angrily balling into fists. “So don’t you ever accuse me again? Because everything I do is for the best of my people, not just yours. The wall is only bordering your land because your land is the only one that connects with the South.”

Jimin’s head hung low, hands unclenching and lips dropping into the frown.

“So before you come at me, you should make sure that you have all the information, do you understand me?” Jimin nodded and sat down.

Everybody tensed when Yoongi then stood up from his seat and slowly, intimidatingly made his way to Jimin’s chair. And when placing his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle when feeling him jump slightly underneath his touch. “Normally I’d kill anyone who spoke to me that way,” leaning down, he whispered into Jimin’s ear, sending chills along his pale skin, “but I’ll let it slide for once since you’re new to this whole thing.”

“T-Thank you, your Majesty.”

With one last pat on the shaking man’s shoulder, Yoongi pulled away, and he was standing straight again, his eyes suddenly fell on your figure who stood near the entrance of the conference hall. But you weren’t alone, no, three servants that he couldn’t recognize was with you. The four of you seemed to be in a deep conversation, and with everybody focused on him, nobody noticed you.

Yoongi’s eyes slightly squinted out of suspicion when seeing you then bow your head at the three servants, a smile on your face before each of you went your separate ways.

Yoongi is definitely going to look into that.

“Now,” returning his attention back to his guests, Yoongi leaned himself against the table, keeping close to the blonde man that was still trembling. “Does anyone else have anything to say to me?”

“N-No no, your Majesty,” Jung Hoseok, another royal spoke up, gulping anxiously as he tightened his hand around his wife’s who sat beside him. “We have no complaints whatsoever, you’re doing an amazing job—the perfect ruler.”

Kiss ass, Yoongi rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from the table. He then shifted his attention towards your husband and asks, “what about you, your Highness? Anything to say?”

Taehyung shook his head. “No, your Majesty.”

“What a bunch spineless people,” Yoongi’s mind scoffed, and he couldn’t agree more.

His advisor then rose from his chair and spoke up, “okay everyone, thank you all for attending his Majesty’s annual end of conference feast this year. You may all now return to your rooms and get some rest before heading back to your own residences in the morning.”

Yoongi stayed back and bid farewell to everyone, and once everyone was gone he left the conference hall with only one thing on his mind—you. He was determined to find out what exactly were you and those three servants were discussing about. Yoongi was so rapt on you that he didn’t even hear his advisor calling out of him to come back.

He practically jogged to the chambers hall, heading straight to your room and when he got there, just as he was about barge right through the door he was then stopped by a sudden sound. Moans could be heard on the other side of the door—female moans. Yoongi’s hands were already hovering over the door handle before he opened it slightly to where there was only a crack, giving him the view of seeing your husband with same servant girl from the night before.

Yoongi watches as she claws his back, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he place open mouth kisses along her bare chest and thrusted deep into her, causing loud, pleasurable moans to erupt from both of their mouths.

“T-Tae,” the young servant girl gasped, hands running up and down his sweaty back and fingers digging into his marked, glistening skin. “I’m close.”

“Me too, love,” he groaned back, leaning down and capturing her lips into a passionate kiss. “Together, okay...?”

Utterly shameless, Yoongi shook his head and pushed away from the door with disgust. Just as he was about to continue searching for you, he froze at the sound a voice behind him—a female voice.

“Are you looking for Lady Kim, your Majesty?”

Yoongi turned around and was greeted by one of your servants, hands laced together and hanging in front of her with a wide smile on her face. “No, I’m not,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. He expected her to just nod her head and leave, but instead she released a small chuckle and turned around, saying in a soft tone, “follow me.”

Yoongi was hesitant, eyes burning suspiciously into the servant girl’s back as she began to walk away. But he soon decided to follow her despite the constant warnings that were running through his head at the moment.

The servant’s gaze was trained on the path in front of her, not even bothering to acknowledge the glare she was receiving by platinum-haired man that was trailing right behind her.

The warnings that were consuming Yoongi’s head started to get louder as he continued to follow her deeper into his residence, parts of his home that he hasn’t even been in.

Yoongi stopped in his place when the servant led him to a room with dark, double doors. “What is this,” he asks with a cold expression, causing the young girl to chuckle and open the door without saying a word to him. He was about to question her even more but when he got to see what was behind the door, leaving him speechless.

Standing right in front him was you, along with over a dozen guards and servants that were from many different kingdoms. Some of the guards and servants were part of the Park Kingdom, some were from the Jung Kingdom, and others were from your own home.

“What’s going on here?” Yoongi asks, his eyes glancing across the many different pairs that were staring right back at him.

“They work for me,” came out of your mouth. “We are all part of movement that believes that the North needs a change in leadership—which is you. You’re the only that deserves to rule the North, not these cowards.”

Yoongi was speechless. For once in his life he didn’t know to say. For the first time he wasn’t the one that was planning in the shadows, plotting against somebody—but instead it was people who he has never even met before. “Why,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth.

“Because war is coming your Majesty,” you stepped towards him to where you stood only inches away from his face, staring up to meet his eyes. “My agents told me that the South is planning an invasion into our territory, and the way the other kingdoms are ruling their land—we won’t survive this war. You are the only one that is capable of leading us to victory.”

Yoongi turned towards your followers. “Do you all agree with him?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” one of the guards spoke up. Each and every person then stepped forward and began to speak loudly on their opinions of their leaders.

“Park Jimin is too young to be King—he doesn’t know how to rule.”

“He can’t even hold a sword properly.”

“Jung Hoseok is a spineless man!”

“Damn right he is! The moment the South comes barging intl his palace, he’ll do whatever it takes to save his own skin and not his people.”

“Kim Taehyung is shameless bastard who would rather spend his time fucking his servants than leading his own Kingdom.”

Yoongi could see you snicker at that comment.

“He spends our taxes buying whores instead of using it to improve our home.”

“None of them belong on the throne!”

“They are right, your Majesty,” you stared at him with a small smirk on your lips. “Out of everyone, you’re the only that deserves to rule us. You are the one who will lead us to glory.”

Yoongi stared down at you with such desire. He may have found you attractive before, but now he couldn’t help but find you utterly irresistible. “So this isn’t just some power trip? Doing all this just to get to the top?”

Yoongi had his suspicions already about the war. He has heard from his own agents that the South were planning on some sort of invasion, but there wasn’t any evidence that confirmed that. So sadly he hasn’t been able to do any preparations—at least, none without the other royals knowledge of it.

You shook your head. “I don’t care about power, your Majesty—only survival, and you’re the best way to achieve that.”

“I see,” Yoongi reached up and stroked his chin, “how would you all do this anyway? Kill the rulers of each Kingdom can be tricky, and what about their heirs?”

“It’s quite easy,” you answered with a small grin. “They all have their jobs,” you nodded at your followers, “once they are home and unguarded, that is when they’ll strike. And as for their heirs, well, that’s not really a problem.”

Yoongi raised a brow. “Jung Hoseok’s wife is unable to bare a child, and he also doesn’t have any younger siblings to take over. So once he passes, rulership of his Kingdom immediately goes over to you. Same goes for my husband and Park Jimin.”

“I see,” Yoongi hums, biting inside of his cheek. “So what’s my job then?”

You smirk. “The only thing you have to do is have your succession speech ready, your Majesty.”

“But I have another problem,” Yoongi added. “Many people already disagree with our war with the South. How will we manage to persuade them that this is necessary? It’ll be difficult since three of the four leaders of the North are dead.”

“Trust me, your Majesty,” you spoke with such clarity and a smile on your face. “Everything is planned out and you don’t have to worry.”

Yoongi didn’t replay, eyes briefly glancing at the people that surrounded him. You must’ve noticed his still cautious state because next thing he knew you were signaling everybody out, telling them to “get some rest and prepare for your departure in the morning.”

“Why are you doing this exactly?” Yoongi asks the moment you two were alone in the room. “Because there is no damn way you’re doing this just for survival. I mean,” he suddenly chuckles, “you are giving complete control of the North. What is your angle here? Are you going to kill me after all this is so that you become Emperor?” Yoongi was starting to get frustrated. He has never had trouble understanding someone before until he met you. And now because of you, his mind was a complete mess.

“That’s not my intention at all, your Majesty,” smiling up at him, you placed your hand on his shoulder, smirking at the feeling of him tensing underneath your fingertips. “All I want is for the North, my home—your home to finally come out of its shadow that it has been forced to hide in for centuries.”

“And you think I’m the one that can do that?”

“Yes,” you nod, fingers dancing across his chest. “I’ve read records of previous Emperors and you’re the only that deserves that title. Unlike the other ones, you are resilient, intelligent, ruthless if necessary, and you even fight alongside your men which no other Emperor has done before.”

As each compliment came out of your mouth, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel himself starting to get hard underneath his lower robes, and you running your hands seductively over his chest definitely wasn’t helping.

“How should I repay you for your kindness then,” Yoongi found himself melting against your touch, his hands finding their way into your waist. “Because someone like you definitely deserves an reward for their loyalty.” Yoongi then turns you around in one quick motion, causing you to gasp at the sudden action and feeling his strong chest pressed up against your back and lips brushing against your ear.

A tiny moan escaped from your lips when feeling his hard length suddenly rub against your ass, you yourself starting to get hard as well. “Should I buy you plenty of jewelry, or maybe a large palace just for you?” Yoongi then pushed you up against the wall, smirking at the small gasp that came from you. “Or perhaps,” another moan came out of your mouth when one of his hands slipped underneath your robes and caressed the soft flesh of your behind, “make you wife?”

Yoongi chuckled when feeling shiver against him. “Yeah, you would like that, huh? Being my wife, an Empress, ruling right beside me?”

“Y-Yes, your Majesty,” you stuttered out, tilting your head back from the sensation, giving Yoongi the opportunity to lean down and leaving wet, tender kisses along your neck and bare shoulder, leaving dark bruises that’ll be near impossible to cover up tomorrow morning.

“Good,” Yoongi left another mark on your skin, dragging his finger across your ass, teasing your clenching hole with his fingertip. “Then how about we—secure our deal, then? And when you nodded, that was all Yoongi needed before turning you around to face him and crashing his lips down forcefully onto yours. The kiss was rough, yet tender and filled with lust. With your hands around his neck, Yoongi’s slid down to your thighs and hoisted you up into his arms, deepening the kiss with his lips moving in perfect sync against yours.

The kiss was like a drug that neither of you couldn’t get enough of.

“Please, your Majesty,” you whimpered against his lips, which made Yoongi want you even more than he already did. “Can you please h-hurry?”

Yoongi smirked against your lips, pulling away. “Don’t worry, my love, just be patient.”

It was quite ironic though, because Yoongi was everything but patient when it came to you. He couldn’t wait any longer. Instead of carrying you all the way to his chamber, he laid you on the closest flat surface which happened to be a table and tore your robes completely off of you, leaving you bare and them in ruins.

Yoongi decided to take his sweet time with you, dragging his lips across your ankles, up your legs to your meaty thighs. He then began to leave open mouth kisses over your abdomen and up your chest, teasing your nipples with his tongue and grazing the wet muscle over your collarbone. Yoongi continued his assault on your body until he reached back up your lips, capturing them this time into a soft, passionate kiss which you gladly returned without a second thought, hands sliding up to his shoulders and helping him strip from his own robes, revealing his pale and toned body.

Your mouth watered at the sight of him, eyeing his define muscles, the way his abs clenched as he climbed onto the table and hovered over you, and the way his biceps bulged as he held himself above you. “Y-Your Majesty—”

“Yoongi,” he cut you off, pulling away and moving his lips to your throat. “Call me, Yoongi, my love.”

“Y-Yoongi,” you tried out, heart warming in both of your chests once hearing his name come out of your mouth. It sounded right coming from you. “Please—”

“Don’t worry, my love,” Yoongi reassured you, moving his lips back up to yours. “I’m here, I’m here. Let me show you how it feels to be loved by a real man, yeah?”

The night was then soon filled with nothing but the sound your combined moans, skin slapping and the shared whispers of sweet words between one another.

This was the start of something new.

“T-Taehyung, faster, faster please!”

The sound of the woman’s moans and the bed’s headboard banging against the connecting wall to your room made your blood boil. Your hands clenched into fists and teeth biting angrily down onto your lips.

“Be patient, my love,” you could hear your husband say through the thin wall, making the rage that flowed through your veins grow more. “Let me cherish you, beautiful...”

“Your Highness,” the sound of a man’s voice tore you out of your thoughts, “I’ve done what you’ve asked me to do.”

“Everything’s prepared and ready?”

The guard nodded his head once you turned around, “yes, your Highness. The only people remaining in the palace are your loyal followers. Everyone else has been sent home.”

“Good,” only came out of your mouth before leaving your chambers with the guard following closely behind you. You walked over next door and didn’t bother knocking before barging right in, your husband and the girl instantly jumping to cover themselves with the thin bedsheets.

“What the fuck?!” Taehyung curses loudly, staring at you with wide eyes and wrapping his arms around the girl’s waist, pulling her close. “What are you doing here? I told already you that I’m staying here tonight.”

“I know,” you replied with not even a single ounce of emotion heard in your voice.

Taehyung’s eyes then shifted towards the guard that stood beside you. “What’s going on here?”

You didn’t say anything, only smiled, and that caused fear to form in the pit of Taehyung’s gut. With just the simple nod of your head, the guard walked over to the servant girl and snatched her by her hair, tearing her away from his grasp and yanking her off the bed and onto the ground.

“Stop—” Taehyung tried to reach for her but stopped when the guard pulled out a dagger and held the sharp blade against her neck, tears shining in her eyes. He then turned towards you, eyes glistening as well, “why are you doing this?”

“Change,” was all you said before nodding your head again, giving the guard the order to slide his blade across the girl’s throat, killing her instantly and letting her limp body collapse into the ground.

“N-No no,” Taehyung didn’t hesitate this time to jump out of the bed, despite being completely nude and taking her now lifeless body into his arms, blood staining the ground and his skin, and tears spilling uncontrollably from his eyes. “She was pregnant...”

“Oh well.”

Taehyung’s head shot up from your heartless comment, his teary eyes shining with a newfound rage. Before he had the chance to say anything the guard approached him from behind and wrapped his arms tightly around his neck. He immediately began clawing at his arms, trying to gasp for air that was becoming harder and harder to obtain, eyes bright red and nearly bulging out, tears slipping from them and sliding down his cheeks.

The last thing he saw before he took his last breath and eyes slowly closed was you standing in front of him with a sinister grin on your lips.

“Your Majesty.”

Yoongi glanced up from his book to see his personal advisor standing right in front of him by his library’s entrance. He hummed in reply, signaling for the young man to continue. We’ve gotten word from Lady Kim—” Yoongi glared at him, causing his advisor to pause and correct his words, “—I mean, ____’s agents that they have completed their duties.”

“They have?” Yoongi asked with a raised brow. He knew you were more than capable of doing this, but he thought something this major would take at least a week to accomplish. He didn’t expect to hear about any success a day later.

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded. “The Jung palace is flames at this moment and there is word that Jung Hoseok himself and his wife were in their chambers when the fire happened. And as for Park Jimin, he was found murdered in his bed with a dagger in his chest. Some say it was one of his concubines that done it.”

“What about Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi found himself asking, his mind instantly thinking of you. “Was ___ successful?”

“Yes, your Majesty he was,” his advisor answered. “I was informed about Kim Taehyung’s death by ___ himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. “Good.”

“Would you like to start writing your succession speech now, your Majesty?”

“Yes,” Yoongi answered. “We’ll have the succession conference next week, and make sure every minor clan leader comes so that they know who is in charge now.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded his head, and before leaving he turned back and said to him in a teasing tone, “oh, and someone is here to see you.”

Yoongi was about to ask him who it was, but he stopped himself when his eyes suddenly landed on you standing in his library’s entrance, his heart stopping in his chest at the sight of you. “H-Hey,” he stuttered out, cringing at the sound of himself. In all his years of living, nobody has ever had this type of power over him—but he wasn’t complaining either.

“Hello, your Majesty,” your reply sent tingles all over his body—and he loved it.

There was nothing but silence afterwards between you two because there wasn’t any need for words. The only thing you two needed to express the feelings you have for each other was your eyes—the passion, the lust, the want that shined in them.

This is just the beginning for you two.

would you guys like to see a drabble series of these two in the future maybe? emperor yoongi and his male wife.

TAGLIST:

@ben-c0c, @sombreboy, @theclawofsa, @joongtoons, @xavi-in-kpopland, @ephemeralkookie, @yoshiure, @illbeyournightmare, @sonderkook, @spaceisbigger, @catboygyu, @justqueerandhereforthetea, @xxminilah

#bonnyskies #bts #bts angst #bts one shot #bts x reader #bts x male reader #min yoongi #min yoongi angst #min yoongi one shot #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x male reader #yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi one shot #yoongi x reader #yoongi x male reader #bts imagines #min yoongi imagines #yoongi imagines

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lululawrence · 3 years

Photo

Polyamory Fic Rec

I thought I’d made one already, but apparently I hadn’t. So, since @twopoppies had an anon looking for more, I figured I’d go ahead and make a rec list now. This is not exhaustive, but it’s a start!

Please remember to leave the authors kudos and nice comments to show appreciation for their work.

I Should've Known by @nikogda (Liam/Louis/Harry, 11k)

It started out with little things here and there. A light that needed replacing. The belt in the vacuum. Small things, and eventually they took advantage of it.

Louis decided they needed another, larger repair whilst talking with his alpha neighbour, Liam. Liam had said he would do it for Louis and his partner, Harry.

And, well, it sort of went a little off track from there. What was an innocent thing at first, was now the two omegas’ way of catching the sweet deep scent of their alpha neighbour one whom they both mutually crushed.

Or: the one where alpha Liam moves in next door to bonded omegas Louis and Harry. All three go on their own journeys but in the end find that maybe, in the end, it really was always each other.

And That Was That by @lightwoodsmagic (Zayn/Liam/Harry/Louis, 23k)

“Okay. When Zayn and I were working on the set yesterday, Liam dropped by and mentioned he had a date. I asked Zayn about it, and he said that they’re ah - poly?”

Harry blinked.

“Oh yeah, I knew that. Li mentioned it when we were playing tennis once.” He ran his hand through Louis’ hair, smiling softly when he nuzzled into the touch.

“Is that what’s making you act strange? Because it seems like something that works for them, and I —.”

“Zayn has feelings for me.” A deep breath, and then blue eyes locked on green. “He said he needs distance because he has to get over them.”

Harry hadn’t realised his hand had fallen from Louis’ face until his fingers were being tangled and gripped tightly.

Or, Zayn and Liam have been polyamorous for years, but Harry and Louis are monogamous. When Zayn meets Louis and starts to fall for him, it opens them all up for something they've never experienced before.

That Don't Define Who You Are by lululawrence (Nick/Harry/Louis, 7k)

“Shit,” Harry muttered, rushing towards the man. “Are you alright?”

The man clearly tried to muffle his scream. “No, I’m really not. I’m afraid you’ll need to call 999.”

When Harry reached the man, he saw the man’s leg had gotten caught by pieces of the bike that had come apart beneath him. Without thinking, Harry leaned down and lapped where the blood was flowing quickly until it slowed.

“I’m so sorry, I just didn’t want you to pass out whilst I was on the phone.”

“God, no, don’t apologise,” the man said. “My mum’s a licking omega, see. Quite soothing.”

Harry blushed. “Yeah. Let me see about an ambulance for you.”

Or the one where Harry is a licking omega with a broken bond who helps heal a fairly hapless beta with a folding bicycle. When Harry also meets the beta's alpha, things start to get... interesting.

Its Mutual We (All) Discussed It by @nikogda (Zayn/Harry/Louis, 29k)

“Well you go to the agency, Alpha Donor Services and fill some forms out, whoever is doing the deed gets tested and such. And then they match you based on the papers with a few Alphas. You read the information on them and pick a few, they make sure they’re still willing and tell them about you. Eventually you guys will meet in public, do that a few times until you’re comfortable.” Niall scratched his arm lightly, and glances over at Harry, “The point of the service is to help a family, mostly an omega one, who can’t have children of their own. An Alpha will help an Omega get pregnant.”

“I feel like this is a lot.” Harry mumbles, setting his mug down.

“It is. Or well it was but it was worth it, H. I mean, I would do this again. We already talked about it.”

“Really?”

Or: Two omegas in a committed relationship are ready to start a family. In the process, their alpha donor becomes part of the family too. Every part of their relationship may be unconventional but all of them have never been happier

old haunts are for forgotten ghosts by fortymaliks (Nick/Harry/Louis, 8k)

“It’s the three of us, now,” Harry says, finally.

Louis blinks.

“Like,” Harry rushes to clarify, “you, and me, and Nick.”

Louis wakes up with amnesia, and learns that he's missing two whole years of his life. Two whole years, and some interesting developments...

Orion's Belt by @londonfoginacup (Nick/Harry/Louis, 24k)

Louis and Nick have been in a happy committed relationship for two years, their matching soulmarks on display for the world to see. It’s been them against the world, the alpha/beta singer and radio DJ power duo.

All that changes on February 1st, when they wake up to a third matching soulmark.

As they say, the course of true love never did run smooth.

You're a Rabbit, Louis Series by @magicalrocketships (Nick/Harry/Louis, 16k)

"Maybe Louis turned into a rabbit," Nick suggests. They both laugh. Louis doesn't. Harry is an idiot and Nick is an even bigger one.

Louis stomps past both of them on four tiny, furry, baby rabbit paws, and into Nick's flat. "I hate you both," he says. He sits on the rug by the TV. "And you can stop following me around too," he says to Pig, who sits down next to him on the rug.

"But seriously," Harry says, from the door. "Where's Louis?"

Louis thumps his back leg on the floor. "I'm here, you idiot."

"I'm not really suggesting this could be true," Nick says carefully, "but are we sure he isn't a tiny baby rabbit?"

The "A" in "Normal" by Yesitstyles (Nick/Harry/Louis, 28k)

Louis eats chips, argues with his best friend Nick about the validity of various sexualities, and falls for a second crush. Harry tries to spell the word "normal".

Loving You's the Antidote by lululawrence (Nick/Harry/Louis, 11k)

Nick and Harry had never been an obvious match. When eighteen-year-old Harry, newly presented as an omega, came home freshly bonded to Nick, a man nine years his elder and a beta no less, Anne had been more than skeptical and Eileen had shared some harsh words of her own. That didn’t deter them, though, and their families soon realised there really was something special about the bondmates that allowed them to work together almost seamlessly.

It was only a few months later that Harry started getting sick.

Or the one where Harry and Nick have been able to keep Harry's disorder at bay over the course of their relationship, but when they move to London and away from their support system, they find themselves in desperate need of help.

Come Out and Play by @dinosaursmate (Combination of OT5 pairings, 30k)

“I have this… fantasy.” Louis smiled self-consciously. “Well, I- I’ve been thinking about it recently, you know?”

Harry smiled softly. “Say it, Lou.”

“I have this fantasy,” he repeated. “Of… all five of us.”

“All five of us,” Harry exclaimed. “Gosh.”

Louis buried his face into Harry’s armpit, and Harry giggled softly. --- Harry and Louis discover a new kink in their relationship, and it brings all the boys closer than they could have ever imagined.

Trinity's Fate by Anonymous (Nick/Harry/Louis, 43k)

When a person is sixteen years old, he or she finds out if they are a dom or a sub. Later when they turn eighteen, the name of their soulmate(s) appear somewhere on their body.

Louis Tomlinson, a sub, fears getting a dom more than anything.

When his eighteenth birthday approaches and the names Nicholas Grimshaw and Harry Styles, a well known dom couple who are DJs for BBC Radio 1, appear on his arms, Louis panics.

Let me be your good night by Conscious_ramblings (Nick/Greg/Harry/Louis, 8k)

The one where Harry and Louis are in love, they end up at a party with some friends, and end up discovering things about themselves, and their friends that could change everything.

The thing was, Harry and Louis weren’t poly. They’d never even played with others together, despite having talked about it quite a lot in the heat of arousal. When they had been at torture garden and antichrist they had flirted with the idea. Harry had even kissed a friend of theirs once to rile Louis up, which had lead to a great session on the Saint Andrew’s cross. Louis loved to watch Harry flirt, loved the way jealousy turned him on and riled him up, loved how pliant and submissive Harry could be when Louis claimed him after. But they definitely weren’t poly, and Louis wasn’t quite sure what that meant for this evening. Everyone else attending the party was, and Louis’ green-eyed-monster had been feeding off that fact for most of the bus ride here. Now he was confronted by a really hot man playing with his boyfriend’s hair like it was no big deal, and he didn’t know quite what to do.

Perfect Sky by @polkadotlou (Nick/Harry/Louis, 40k)

Sub pairs are a rare thing, not only because of the jealousy that can brew between submissives if a Dom isn't attentive to each.

A sub pair has to be balanced.

Harry and Louis have always fit each other without trying. With them, it's easy.

But sub pairs can't just go out in the world and live on their own.

Alternatively, Louis always knew that a Dom was going to come into his and Harry’s lives – he only wishes Nick picked him too.

The Only Thing That Keeps Me Grounded by lululawrence (Nick/Harry/Louis, 28k)

“Shit, I definitely missed the last train.”

“Oh no,” Louis lamented. “I’d offer a ride, but I’m part of a carpool and we’re full already. I’m so sorry.”

“Really, it’s fine.” Then, what Louis said sank in. “Wait, I thought you were here alone?”

“Oh, I am. I’m the only one dancing here tonight. The others were working. In fact, here’s Nick now.”

It felt like slow motion as a tall, lanky man with incredible hair came walking over towards Louis. He smiled before pulling Louis into him and giving him a quick kiss.

“Nick, this is my new friend Harry. He just moved to the area and he’s amazing at swing. Harry, this is my husband, Nick.”

Fuck.

Or the one where Harry moves to Washington DC to be a nanny and never expects that his past struggles with love will be brought to a head. He definitely never expects the solution to it all will be the man of his dreams that just so happens to be married to the other man of his dreams.

Tell Me It’s The Strongest Shape by @louandhazaf (Nick/Elgar/Louis, 73k)

Nick and Elgar have it all. They’re famous, successful, and engaged to be married—and sometimes they play with others.

When uni student Louis gets street cast by Elgar for a GQ photoshoot, he's drawn into Nick and Elgar’s complicated relationship.

They've always invited mates into their bed. It doesn’t ever mean anything. Until… it does.

it hurts, but it's worth it by words_unravel (Liam/Harry/Louis, 14k)

Liam finds the shots of the three of them, rolling around and laughing, a week or so later during a late night. After a moment's pause, she saves one of the photos, giving it some inane, boring name. She shuts down her computer after that and goes to bed.

It takes a long time before she falls asleep.

#mine #poly fic rec #my fic rec #fic rec #i love poly fics so much #i thought i had made one of these already????#i was surprised to find i hadn't #so anyway #this is a good start

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cleanlenins · 3 years

Text

Ectober Day 2: Scream

He Just Screams Uncool

Ectober Day 2: Scream

During Fright Knight, Mr. Lancer gets sent to a fear dimension after being stabbed by Soulshredder. What would have happened if Dash had gotten stabbed? What would his fear dimension look like?

AO3

Warnings: Light body horror

Dash trembled, covering his ears and crushing his eyes closed. He cowered in a corner, unable to muster the courage to move. This wasn't real. This wasn't real. This wasn't real .

Freaky Fenton must have done something. He was so desperate to win the stupid Haunted House competition that he had cheated. Yeah, that must be what he had done. He had gotten help. Maybe he didn't even do any of it himself. Not that Dash had done anything himself either-

He heard a distant laughter and crushed his palms against his ears. He didn’t want to hear it anymore.

Leave it to the freak to come up with something like this.

He whimpered as he heard the laughter get closer, pressing harder into the corner. The brick walls digging into his arm. He thought back and tried to find some explanation for this madness.

Dash had already won. He knew it. He could see on Lancer’s face as he showed off his room. There was no way Fenton could top this. Fenton’s room was a joke, just like everything else about the loser. It was just up to Mr. Lancer to say the final words.

And then...what had happened? Dash can't remember. It was all so hazy, like trying to remember a fading dream. Someone had shown up, dressed in armor and face obscured in darkness. He almost remembered the horrifying feeling of metal sliding through his chest. But he checked and he was whole. There was no wound. No blood. No pain-

One minute Dash had been standing next to Lancer, the next he was suddenly outside the school? How did he get there? And it was daylight? Dash blinked at the sudden light. It was crowded with students milling around, but he immediately spotted Paulina and Kwan. His friends could never be mistaken for the normal geeks and freaks that populated the school. Both of their backs were turned to him. Maybe they would know what had happened.

Dash had walked up to the duo, raising his hand to clap Kwan on the shoulder with a cocky grin. The smirk melted away as his hand went through Kwan's arm. Dash stared at his hand, completely dumbfounded. Frozen in place in his confusion. Was he tripping? He didn’t remember taking anything. Then Paulina and Kwan turned and walked through him. Dash gasped at the foreign feeling, like the ice baths he and the team would take after training. Except the cold was under his skin. Under his muscles. Like his bones were made of snow and mist. And then it was gone.

“Guys!” Dash shouted in surprise, but neither Kwan nor Paulina turned to face him. Neither showed any signs of even seeing him. They continued to walk up the path. Dash ran to cut them off, waving his hands in front of their faces. Neither blinked. Dash tried to block their way but once more they walked right through him. He bit his lip, scanning around the school ground for any other familiar faces.

He rushed over to Valerie and tried to grab her shoulder, intent on spinning the girl around to look at him. But once more his hand went through. Star gestured wildly and her hand went through Dash’s head. He flinched away from the uncomfortable feeling. Dale threw his football through the air, and instead of catching it, Dash watched it pass through his chest before nailing that nerd Mickey in the head. Dash couldn’t even take pleasure in the nerd’s broken glasses.

He wasn’t panicking. No, he would never panic. He was the school star for heaven's sake. The hero of Casper. He wouldn’t be beaten by some freaky trick. He started screaming, yelling for someone to notice him. He tried to grab people. Tried to throw books and binders. Yelled expletives in their faces. Tried to punch random people. He definitely didn’t cry, no, those weren’t tears. He was just sweating. His heart was pounding against his chest from the running, not fear. His scream broke off as he choked down a sob. No, it wasn’t a sob! He leaned heavily against the flag poles, somehow not falling through them. He glanced around the grounds in despair. He was at a loss. He was...losing?

His eyes snapped to a trio not that far from him. He focused on Fenton, who seemed to be engrossed in a conversation with Foley. Dash nearly growled in anger, before marching over to Fenton.

Fenton seemed to shudder as he approached, a cold mist floating from his mouth. Typical freak weirdness. The smaller teen looked up and met Dash’s eye. Instead of cowering in fear, a wide grin split Fenton’s face. Dash flushed in rage.

“What did you do, Fenton?”

“What do you mean?” Fenton asked, grin widening even more.

“Why is everyone acting like they can’t see me? Why can’t I touch anything? If this is something your weirdo parents made-” Dash stuttered to a stop as he watched Fenton’s smile only grow wider, every tooth on display and...were his teeth sharper than usual?

“What do you mean no one can see you, Dash?” Fenton tilted his head, unblinking eyes seemed to be staring directly into his soul. The pupils were blown wide, only hinting at a circle of blue around the black. “I can see you. I have always been able to see you.”

Fenton took a step. Dash swallowed as he took a step away. Fenton’s grin grew even wider. Impossibly wide. Could mouths even reach that wide?

“W-what’s that supposed to mean, you freak?” Dash stuttered as he put distance between him and the nerd. Fenton continued to stroll, a very low chuckle.

“That’s why you don’t like me, Dash. Because I can see you for who you are and who you will be,” Fenton giggled. “A nobody.”

“J-just-Shut up, Fenturd!” Dash tried to hold his ground, balling his hands into fists to hide the tremors.

“You know that someday they are going to see it, too. See you for the nothing you are. Stupid, useless, boring, lame-the list goes on, doesn’t it? You had hoped it would be after high school, but I guess everyone just came to their senses sooner than you thought, Dash .”

Dash lashed out, as he always did when he was afraid. He was expecting the satisfying crunch of his fist against Fenton’s nose. But his fist went right through Fenton’s grinning face. The smaller teen stepped to the side. He reached up and gently grabbed Dash’s wrist. Dash tried to rip it away, but found that Fenton’s hold was stronger than iron. He grunted as he yanked his arm, but Fenton didn’t budge.

“The only thing really good about you is all this strength, isn’t it?” Fenton asked, a cruel excitement in his eyes. “But that won’t last, will it?”

Like the rippling of wind on grain, the skin around Dash’s wrist began to change. Tanned and smooth skin became translucent and liver spotted. Chiseled muscle seemed to deflate and loose skin hung from the bone in a wrinkly mass. The effect flowed up from his wrist to his elbow, as Dash screamed in horror. He once more tried to pull away from Fenton, this time with success as he fell and sprawled on his back. He sobbed and he tried to crawl backwards away, Fenton giggled down at him with hand still aloft. Dash felt tears overflow, he glanced down at his arm which still held it’s withered appearance.

Fenton took a step forward, and Dash’s eyes were back on him.

“Are you crying, Baxter?” Fenton laughed. “Well, that just screams uncool doesn’t it? Don’t worry. You don’t have to cry for long.”

Fenton took another step closer, and Dash was on his feet. He sprinted away, cradling his arm and screaming for help. Anyone. Help him. Please. Someone save him. But while the school had been full of people before, now there was no one. Dash sprinted around the school building, making his way to the brick storage building. He fumbled with the latch, before ripping open the door. Closing it quickly behind him, he shoved himself as far into the room as he could, leaning up against the cold corner of the brick wall. He tried to muffle his sobs, his hands trembling. He listened hard, waiting. Waiting to see if Fenton would find him. Tears flowed freely as he scrunched up his eyes.

So here he was. Trembling in fear of the kid he usually beat to a pulp, with no explanation for his change in fate. He waited, tense as a bowstring, as he heard Fenton calling his name. Taunting him. Laughing. When the voice came close, he held his breath and bit down on his unwithered hand to try and muffle the noise of his chattering teeth. He heard the latch on the door wiggle, creating an eerie squeak into the silence and Dash swallowed a scream. Dash waited with baited breath to see if the door opened. The clack of the rusted metal latch continued, the door remaining closed. Eventually, the noise stopped, the latch thudding against the wooden door. Dash heard Fenton laugh as he passed by. Footsteps inaudible through the thick brick walls. Dash waited, sure that Fenton would come back to unstick the latch. Sure he would come back to continue whatever sick game he was playing. But he didn’t. Finally, Dash felt safe enough to let out a cautious breath. He clamped his eyes shut, trying to calm his racing heart and block out the reality around him.

“Found you,” A voice whispered in his ear. Dash looked up to see Fenton, inches from his face, half of his body phased through the wall. Dash screamed, nowhere to run as Fenton reached one hand towards him.

“Mr. Baxter! Dash! You’re okay! It wasn’t real!” Mr. Lancer backed away from the screaming football star. Mr. Baxter scooted into the wall, eyes wide as he continued to scream and cover his face. Mr. Lancer glanced at Mr. Fenton and Miss Manson, who stared at their classmate in a mixture of concern and guilt. “One of you two should go and find a phone so I can contact his parents. “

“Right,” Miss Manson agreed. She locked eyes with Mr. Fenton, before rushing back through the haunted house.

Mr. Lancer tried to calm Mr. Baxter down. But the boy just continued to scream incomprehensible nonsense, clutching his arm to his body in such a way that Mr. Lancer was growing concerned that he had hurt himself. Mr. Lancer tried to distract him, tried to get him to get him to focus on something other than whatever it was that was scaring him.

But Dash Baxter would not look away from Danny Fenton.

#Ectober Month 2021 #Ectoberhaunt 2021 #Ectoberhaunt trick #Danny Phantom #Cartoons #My writing #horror #Dash Baxter #I had more trouble on this one than day 1 #Horror is just really new to me

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t0wnspersonb · 4 years

Text

Reignition (Kozume Kenma x Reader)

Word Count: 2,147

Anonymous said:

Hi! I love your work so much! I was wondering if you could do a Kenma x reader? Where theyre really good childhood friends, but she moved to miyagi (karasuno) for highschool. So then they meet at the training camp and have rekindled feelings?? Sorry if yhis doesnt make sense! Again, I love your work so much!!!!

~~~~

I don’t know why I made this one so long lol. This was a lot of fun to write, anything that has to do with the training camp makes me so happy lmao. I hope you like this one anon! I hope I was able to write it how you wanted!

Another reminder that requests are closing on Saturday! I’m going through them all slowly but surely, after I finish these requests I probably won’t be taking them again for a while, so I can write up some other stories of mine to share with you guys! Anyway, I hope you guys are having a good week!

~~~~

You sighed in exhaustion as you walked through the doors with the chaotic duo. You were never going to babysit these two ever again, no matter what Daichi or Sugawara said.

If it wasn’t for them you would have already been at the training camp with everyone else, helping Shimizu and Yachi with the manager duties. But fate just wasn’t one your side this time, fearing that the two would ditch their supplementary exams and try to go to Tokyo on their own, Daichi had requested that you stay with them until the exams were done.

Which meant that you had to also suffer through a crazy drive with Big Sister Saeko, and as much as you loved her, you just so happened to love your life just a tad bit more to never want to suffer through that again.

Now you were just exhausted, luckily from the looks of it the practice matches were going to be wrapping up soon, which meant food, showering and a good night’s sleep.

You sighed once again, your eyes flickering over to your team, you could feel multiple pairs of eyes on you as the three of you walked further into the gym.

“Thanks for watching them Y/n-chan.” Daichi called out as you approached everyone.

“You owe me senpai.” was all you said as you walked passed them towards Shimizu and Yachi, wanting to get caught up on what happened while you were gone; completely oblivious to two pairs of lingering eyes coming from the Nekoma team.

“Must be nice having three managers,” Kuroo muttered, his eyes focusing in on your small figure. “I wonder if that one is new like the blonde one.”

Of course, everyone’s eyes lingered on your figure a tad bit longer than necessary, curious as to why Karasuno managed to have three managers, and well, because you were incredibly cute. It was fitting that you too would be part of the team, considering there were already two other cute managers.

The lucky bastards.

“Shoyo had mentioned earlier that they convinced one of their managers to come back to the team…” Kenma said quietly, his cat-like eyes following your every movement. “That’s probably her…”

Of course, Kenma had noticed how good looking you were, but the air of familiarity was too much. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had met you before.

“Why must the universe be so cruel!?” Yamamoto cried out.

Kenma sighed to himself. There was never any peace.

***

“Ne, ne Shoyo! Who was that other manager that walked in with you!?” Inuoka asked curiously.

Even though Kenma never removed his eyes from his game, he couldn’t help but to sit up straighter, ears perked up. Of course, he was curious too, you seemed incredibly familiar to him.

“Oh Y/n-senpai!” Hinata grinned. “She’s a second year at Karasuno, she’s been a manager since her first year.”

“How come I didn’t see her at the practice match?” Inuoka pondered aloud.

“Y/n-senpai’s health is very fragile! She was sick for a while and her parents made her quit. But she loves volleyball so much that she begged to come back to the team. Plus, she’s really pretty and a good manager!” Hinata gloated, eyes shining brightly.

Y/n… Kenma ignored the sudden race to his heart. He knew that name, he knew that name very well. In all honesty, he had never expected hearing it again, much less seeing you again.

It had been years.

He couldn’t help but wonder if you remembered him too.

Of course, he would remember you, his first love. The one that got away, the other person that he used to play with when he was younger other than - oh that’s right, Kuroo.

Did Kuroo recognize you too?

You did look different from when you were younger now that he thinks about it.

But then again, he looked different too. Kuroo maybe not so much. Just bigger, still just as annoying though.

“Well I should get going. We’re playing you guys first thing in the morning!” Hinata said, waving goodbye.

First thing in the morning?

Then maybe… he could see you again, right?

****

It was too early, way too early; especially with how rowdy the boys were already being.

It wasn’t just your boys either, but four extra teams on top of yours?

How were you going to survive this training camp?

“You’ve been sighing a lot this morning, Y/n-chan. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to go rest?” Shimizu asked, a slight concern to her voice.

“I’m fine senpai; I’m just thinking about how lively everyone is. It’s going to be a long trip isn’t it?” You grimaced, eyes scanning the sea of boys that were currently eating breakfast right now and -

“Oi! Yuu! Leave Tsukki alone before you break his glasses!” You called out to the libero, pointing the ladle in your hand at him accusingly, eyebrow raised as if daring him to challenge you.

The said male apologized, releasing his grip on the tall blonde and sitting down.

You sighed again, ignoring the giggles of the other managers around you.

“Y/n-chan is the best at handling our first-year duo and second year duo. They always listen to her, and she’s always looking out for them.” Shimizu explained, a small smile grazing her lips.

“Unwillingly.” You stated, “apparently my title as a manager has ‘babysitter’ in it. If I knew Daichi-senpai was going to make me watch those four when he can’t I wouldn’t have come back.” You started saying as you began serving the boys that finally came in for breakfast.

“I guess I do have some practice,” you begin saying, eyes fixated on the food in front of you as you serve. “when I was younger, I used to play with these two boys that were -” your eyes widened as you looked up to the next set of boys you were about to plate.

Kuroo looked at you in shock for a moment before a wide grin stretched across his face. While Kenna stood there frozen, although his heart rate was through the roof.

“Oya oya oya. If it isn’t little Y/n-chan. I didn’t even recognize you the other day. Who would have thought you’d be a manager at our rival school?” Kuroo said slyly.

“Tetsu… You look the same.” you grimaced.

“Oi why are you making that face!?” Kuroo huffed angrily before his eyes slid over to Kenma who was just… staring at you.

The sweetest smile grazed your lips, your eyes wide and bright and… were you blushing?

“Kenma.” You said softly.

He could have died right there, it felt like all the bars in his health evaporated into nothing as soon as you looked at him and said his name.

He definitely died and went straight to heaven; especially with a smile like that.

“Y/n.” he mumbled softly, eyes flickering away from you, burning holes into his food, ignoring the two pair of eyes that were now staring at him.

“You’re still just as shy as before.” you laughed softly as you served your childhood friends.

“We’ll have to catch up sometime Y/n-chan.” Kuroo said before walking off to find a table.

“Kenma.” you called out before he could scurry away with Kuroo. He glanced at you once more, pausing for you to continue.

“I’ve missed you. We should catch up soon.” you said quietly, a soft blush beginning to coat your cheeks.

“Yeah.” he nodded at you once more before walking off, leaving your heart racing and your cheeks flushed.

Even after all these years... could that be considered true love? You wondered, ignoring the giggles, and pointed looks all of the other girls were giving you.

But internally you were squealing as well.

****

The next couple of days you did exactly what you said you would do; you caught up with your childhood friends.

When you had finally returned for the week-long training camp, you were glued to the Nekoma team, much to Karasuno’s annoyance.

Right now, you were handing out watermelon, a sweet smile glued to your face as you made sure your boys got some and then making sure that Nekoma did as well.

“Do you want seconds Kenma?” you asked, sitting next to the pudding haired boy. His eyes slid over to you before he shook his head and took out his phone, pulling up a mobile game.

You scooted closer to him, your head finding his shoulders, eyes glued to the screen.

You felt Kenma stiffen at the sudden contact, but soon relaxed as you guys drifted into comfortable silence.

This was all too familiar, you would always watch Kenma play video games when you were younger, it was entertaining and it didn’t involve strenuous work, which meant it was great for you due to your fragile health.

Plus, you got to be close to him, that was another bonus.

Kenma ignored the racing of his heart and tried to beat down the smugness that filled his body as he received envious looks from the others.

The two of you were always close, you were the one person he didn’t mind receiving affection from, although it never really appeared that way.

“Oi Y/n-chan, can you fill up our water bottles before the next match?” Kuroo called out.

“I’m not your manager Tetsurou. But I guess.” You rolled your eyes at him, heaving yourself up and dusting off your shorts.

“I’ll go with you Y/n.” Kenma said quietly, putting his phone back into his pocket as he stood up.

You couldn’t help the blush and smile that spread across your face at his offer, that just meant you got to spend more time with him, you’d fill up Nekoma’s water bottles any day if it meant more time with Kenma.

Kenma was quiet as you talked about everything and anything as you guys walked towards the water fountains.

It wasn’t that he was ignoring you, rather, his head was consumed by thoughts of you. He wanted to voice his feelings, he could only assume that you liked him too, from the way you acted around him, the way you treated him.

Even though you guys were apart for years, it felt like you had never left his side. Everything was familiar, everything was comfortable, he liked that, he liked that a lot.

“- As much as I admire and respect my senpais, it’s just not fair that they want me to teach those two on top of babysitting them and -”

“Y/n.” Kenma interrupted your animated storytelling, his slender fingers gently grabbing at your hand that held a water bottle.

You looked up at him in surprise.

Why…. why was he looking at you like that? You could feel heat beginning to creep up into your cheeks, your stomach twisting with butterflies.

Kenma’s piercing eyes bore into your own, there was a softness to them, but there was also a hardened look of determination.

“What’s wrong?” You asked quietly, placing the water bottle down and you turned your body towards him completely.

He grasped both of your hands in his, eyes flickering down to stare at them before they softly trailed up your arms until they rested gently on top of your shoulders.

“Do you like me?” he asked, peering down at you.

“W-What are you talking about?” you asked nervously, eyes flickering away from his intense gaze. “O-Of course I like you Kenma, you’re my best -”

“That’s not what I mean.” He cut you off. “If you don’t like me then you can push me away, but I’m not going to hold back anymore.”

“What do you mean hold back -”

Oh.

He was kissing you. Kenma’s lips were surprisingly soft and slightly cold, but they fit perfectly against your own. The kiss was lingering and gentle, hesitant almost.

But it was your first kiss.

Your first kiss with your best friend, your crush since childhood, your first love. It was… it was perfect.

This was perfect.

All too soon he pulled away, taking a small step back to give you some space.

Both of your faces flushed.

Someone cleared their throat loudly, causing you guys to jump further away from each other.

“I was wondering what was taking you guys so long.” Kuroo grinned wickedly. “If I would have known you guys were sucking face, I wouldn’t have come.”

“Shut up Kuroo.” Kenma scowled.

“So… did you guys finally confess to each other?” he asked, ignoring him completely.

“Y/n is mine.” Kenma said simply, finishing up the last water bottle, grabbing your hand gently and tugging you away. “Since you’re here Kuroo you can take the water bottles back to the gym.”

A soft giggle escaped your lips as he tugged you away, causing a small smile to erupt on his face.

“Damn you Kenma!” Kuroo yelled out.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfics #kozume kenma #kozume kenma x reader #kozume kenma x you #kenma x reader #kenma x you #reader insert #kenma imagine #kenma fluff #kenma request #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #request #kenma oneshot

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wh6res · 3 years

Note

Delusional, 1, 21, Chenle please. I’m not sure if I have to specify the reader’s gender but it’d be great if it was male or gender neutral, thanks! Also, if there was another delusional, 1, 21, Chenle that was me, I forgot to add in the details, sorry.

what friends are for | chenle

synopsis. chenle is done playing nice.

warning. yandere themes, swearing, character death, rip chensung

your family may not be in the same level of wealth from his—the zhongs are damn near considered royalty!—but money never hindered your friendship with the heir. never once paying heed to the nasty side glances thrown your way whenever you're invited to sit at their table during soireés or charity events.

“thank you, really, mr. zhong, but my family—”

“well, bring them over here too! the more the merrier!”

and if there was one thing chenle’s parents liked about you, it was how family-oriented you seem to be. wanting to stick by your older brothers and sisters side. it just so happens that the zhongs treasure that principle the most.

blood is thicker than water.

so it was within these reasons why chenle, for the fucking life of him, doesn’t understand why you let that other brat into your little duo—park jisung wasn’t even in the same social class as the two of you!

you met him during this dance class you attended in downtown seoul. you had begged your mother to attend, and after she obliged, begged chenle to come with you. but no, while you may possess a compassionate nature, not at all minding the status quo, your childhood best friend, however, does not.

“oh, come on, lele. it’ll be fun!”

“i mean—i just don’t see the point of having to drive downtown for dance classes when we can just attend here! the choreographers are more world-renowned than those no-names you’ll meet in downtown.”

oh, how badly he wished he had agreed to come instead. or else you wouldn’t’ve met that middle-class peasant, wouldn’t’ve forced chenle to play nice, to smile through his annoyance as he nodded and waved at the boy you introduced to him.

“hey, i’m park jisung! i’ve heard all about you and your family here in the upper east, by the way. never thought i’d be meeting you, but here we are! let’s be good friends!”

if it weren’t for your sparkling eyes, chenle would’ve spat at the hand the other kid was offering. but instead…

“thanks, i guess? i’m chenle! and sure, i’d love to be friends.”

the agreement was movies after class at chenle’s place—it was what you texted in your little group chat with him and jisung. but when you arrived at the zhong’s estate after finishing up your extracurriculars, their helpers had quickly stated that the young master has yet to come home.

you had turned around to observe the row of cars in the zhong’s front yard, quickly noticing his red tesla is nowhere to be seen.

after bidding a quick goodbye to the butler who had answered the door, you quickly spun in your heels. trekking your way back to your chauffeur pulled up on the circular driveway, annoyance radiating off you.

jisung isn’t even here yet! and it was already fifteen minutes past the scheduled time. he’s hardly ever late.

just as your driver opens his mouth to ask what happened, the obvious frown and distress on your features is enough explanation for him, so he remains quiet as he waits for your instructions.

you pull out your phone to check if you accidentally missed any messages from either of the two boys, quickly finding that no, there wasn’t. no text or calls about sudden changes of plans from either of them.

until your phone chimes. a new message.

jwi-sUng, 6:29PM — yo chenle said lets watch at my dorm instead — see yuh

stupid. it was so stupid of you not to realize the signs. jisung is never late in his entire life, that boy is as punctual as he can get. and he’ll never use words like “yo” or “yuh” because… because, those were chenle’s texting style. and when you came inside jisung’s house, it should’ve struck you why the house is so quiet, why the house didn’t smell like ms. park’s cooking, why it was chenle himself that answered the door.

“ji and i have been waiting for you!” he cheers, slinging an arm over your shoulder before practically dragging you into the house.

“i came to your place and you weren’t there! either of you could’ve sent me a text or some—”

you stop rambling when you see the state of their living room. the couch is torn, the tv’s screen is cracked, porcelain vases smashed into a million pieces, tables overturned. it looks like a storm surged through the whole place and you’re now witnessing the aftermath.

but a storm didn’t do this. not when your eyes have zeroed in on jisung and his mom tied up in the middle of the room, men in suits guarding every window and exit of the house. some of them you’ve seen trailing behind chenle and his parents. the zhong’s bodyguards. brutes with no heart whatsoever, doing whatever the powerful family asks them to do.

“chenle. what… what’s the meaning—”

“i’m done playing nice. all i want is you. all i’ve ever wanted was you.”

he spat like poison as you stand immobile before the scene in front of you. the heir never thought he’d get a kick from seeing your face contorted with fear and confusion. but it did. and he basked in it.

you waited patiently for the punchline. for one of them to say ‘gotcha!’ but when your eyes met jisung’s fearful ones, you knew this wasn’t any sick joke they came up with to prank you. nope. this is as real as the hand chenle uses to push your hair away from your face as he stands before you, breaking the eye contact you have with the dancer.

“oh, come on…” he pouts cutely, looking out of place in a trashed up apartment. “i’m the one that isn’t tied up and you still don’t pay attention to me?”

“chenle, what’s going on?”

he laughs boisterously and you can’t help but wonder how more witch-like it sounded rather than the usual, innocent dolphin’s.

“i have everything i want,” he boldly claims, pacing before you, the cheap fluorescent lights of jisung’s home accentuates the harsh angles of his face. “money’s a given. power, too. with just those two, i can have the whole world at the palm of my hand—”

“let them go.”

you flinch when two burly men in suits start closing in on you from both sides. hands darting forward to grab both of your arms, until chenle gave them a hard stare, to which both retreated immediately. you understood what that look meant. no, not yet.

“geez… at least humor me, why don’t you?”

you don’t answer him.

“right,” he starts again, freezing you in place when he makes a beeline towards the dancer. “i have everything i want. well, used to. until this peasant came and ruined what we already have.”

jisung squirms and when he feels a cold circular barrel nudging the top of his head and his mom looks like she is ready to pass out. cold sweat starts building up in your forehead. you don’t know how you can get the three of you out of the house alive but if playing dumb can prolong your thinking time, then so be it.

“i don’t get it—”

“of course, you don’t!” you flinch, eyes trained on your ex-best friend and the gun he’s holding. “you’ve always been so sheltered, so naive, always hiding behind your older brothers and sisters to even realize what’s happening.”

“lele, please. just drop the gun first, we can all just talk this out—”

“see what i mean? naive!”

your heart shatters at the tiny whimper jisung lets out when the gun digs a little too much against his head.

“ever since you met this brat, you keep dragging him to our hangouts, trying to make him a part of our little party,” the heir explains through gritted teeth as he glares at you. “and you know what makes it worse? park jisung can’t fucking offer you anything other than a mediocre life. is that what you want?”

“jisung’s my friend. he doesn’t have to fucking offer me anything.”

he giggles like a madman. “oh, baby, i don’t think jisung feels the same way you do, though. have you ever seen the way he looks at you?”

and when your eyes flicker down to meet the dancer’s, the truth has never been more obvious when he fails to meet your eyes.

chenle clicks his tongue patronizingly as he pats jisung’s shoulder to feign comfort, before tossing the gun to one of his bodyguards standing behind him. “well, getting friendzoned sucks.”

“this isn’t a fucking joke—”

you yelp in surprise when the heir delivers a swift punch to jisung’s stomach. the boy bending in pain through the makeshift gag tied over his mouth.

“you’re right. it isn’t.”

you force yourself not to cower as chenle menacingly starts to approach you. a stoic expression on his face and you wonder for a moment, when did all of this even started?

“it is no joke that i love you—the one thing that i can’t have, the one thing so close, just an arm’s length away but still feels so far. but not anymore.”

you don’t where you manage to get the confidence nor the courage to blurt out what you were about to say next, but you regretted it all the same.

“this isn’t love. obsession, possessiveness, or infatuation is fucking far from love.”

the two consecutive sounds of a gunshot was deafening to the ears, but the heir supposes nothing can beat your screams as you fought against the arms of his guards, trying to get to the two people lying immobile in their own home.

“doing everything for this one person, is that not one of the criteria to say you love someone?”

chenle ignores the nasty spit you threw that’s dribbling down his expensive shoes. you’ll pay for that, one way or another. but that day is not today.

“jisung was our friend, you psychopath! this is insanity! you’re fucking crazy!”

when you try biting the hand that comes up to caress your face, one of his guards knees you in the gut. chenle wishes you didn’t have to force his hand, didn’t have to do this the hard way, but you leave him with no choice.

“you’re wrong. i’m not crazy—i’m just… in love. i did this out of love, i’m doing this out of love.”

#yandere kpop #yandere nct #yandere chenle

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smokahuntis · 3 years

Text

Weightless

Nothing Personal

Pairing: Javier peña x reader

Warnings: set last name, cursing, mentions of sex and death. Masterbation, night mares.

Summery: he embassy calls in a new agent to assist agents Peña and Murphy

Authors note: I’m back and I’m going to try and start a series! Based on the album Nothing Personal by All Time Low. This would be chapter one.

Word count: 3.4K

Manage me, I’m a mess

“Agent (y/n) Carter” the ambassador said as she gave them the files “she will be joining, this is everything you need to know in her and she will be here later today.

Javier nodded as he picked up the file “of course, madam ambassador” he stood with a crooked grin and looked her over “and may I say, you look amazing in pink” he said softly and kindly. Steve just rolled his eyes and walked towards the door.

“Keep dreaming Peña” she shook her head and let them leave to review the file.

Turn a page, I’m a book half unread

“Agent Carter ” Javier handed Steve the file. “ ‘DEA’s finest’” he mocked and lit up his cigarette as he set back. Letting the smoke fill his lungs as he took a long drag of his Colombian cigarette. He watched Steve waiting for his opinion.

Steve only chuckled and set the papers down “I went to academy with her...” he said, javiers eyes lit up before he shook his head

“I didn’t mean-“

“We aren’t friends it okay” Steve chuckled.

I wanna be laughed at, laughed with, just because

“Oh- okay... okay...” pena leaned back again as the smoke clouded the humid air around them.

“She was always an overachiever, no one really liked her in my class” he chuckled and put the file away. “Way to smart to be choosing dea, but there she was. Didnt talk to anyone, didn’t let anyone talk to her.” He shrugged “I’d be surprised if she talked to us”

I wanna feel weightless and that should be enough

“So beware shes a bitch?” Javier chuckled and put his cigarette out

“Yep” Steve got up and grabbed his empty coffee cup. “Want a coffee?”

“Not from here...” he shook his head and got up.

“You know back home I always chose Colombian brew coffee, and now I’m in colombia and I don’t see why I thought it was good” Steve chuckled as they walked together to get a drink at the coffee place across the street.

“I’ve spend out money on more valuable things then coffee machines that aren’t from the 60s and beans that aren’t 2 years old” Javier joked and shook his head as they strutted the halls. They were such a duo, splitting them into a trio is a sin, but they’d have to get used to it.

Well I’m stuck in this fucking rut

Meanwhile back in LAX (y/n)’s brother tried to convince her it wasn’t worth it. “Colombia is dangerous right now, you could get killed- or- or worse!” Thomas said following her.

“What’s worse then dying?” She watched him with a bit of a cocky grin.

“You could end up like- like Kiki” he said without thinking before she grabbed her brothers collar roughly.

“You don’t say a damn word about Kiki... plus” she let him go and wiped her Dainty hand on her white button up. “After what the US did to the Sinaloa I think I’m safe from that” she sighed and kept walking.

“(Y/n) listen- please... I can’t loose my sister, not to- Pablo Escobar” he grabbed her hand. She turned and looked at him with upset eyes. “You’re all I have left...” he whispered

Waiting on a second-Hand pick-me-up

It was true, she was all he had left, dad was away over seas and mom was gone. Their oldest brother died years ago, it was just her and Thomas. But they were both adults now, she could do what she wanted, and she had been. But now she was a little worried for Thomas.

“I’ll call, and I’ll visit when I can, just go home Thomas... I’ll be okay” she said looking at him, before the warning for her flight went off, 10 minutes now. “I love you, I have to go” she hugged her younger brother before she left.

I’m getting over getting older

(Y/n) looked over her files on the plane, she knew it was a matter of time before escobar knew who she was so she didn’t hide it. She didn’t care, she knew he was almost untouchable. Almost.

(Y/n) had been all over for the DEA, her most frequented place however was Mexico. She worked in Mexico for a long time, she was young and stupid and she kinda thought it was the DEA’s way of getting rid of waste, expecting her to die at the hands of the Sinaloa. However she returned very much alive, and very much tearing open at the seems. She still has nightmares of her time there, but she didn’t care, she had to keep going, for him.

If I could just find the time

Javier set up the stuff in the meeting room before he made his way home for the night. His little two bit apartment given to him by the Embassy. It was nice, he knew that, but it always felt cold and empty, that’s why he filled it with girls, smoke, alcohol smells. It was like a fucking bar. He tried to not bring work home with him but he couldn’t help it most nights, things either bothered him to much or had to be done sooner then later. Some days he wanted to feel weightless, and those days he could escape the heavy burden of people lives depending on him. The ones he couldn’t save, or the ones he’s trying to save. He was trying so hard, but he couldn’t escape.

He needed air, that’s what it was. Right now when he felt his chest collapse on him, he needed aid, real air. So he was quick to make his way out the door and to the front steps of the apartment building, he almost didn’t see her. The (h/c) girl standing there at the steps with her bags. He almost took her out, but he stopped in time.

“I’m- im sorry uh- can I help you?” He asked clearing his throat as he looked at her. She pulled her hood off and looked up at him holding her bags close to her

Then I would never let another day go by

“This is the embassy apartments right?” She asked with a soft shivering smile. He was quick to answer, maybe to quick.

“Yea! Yea this is- this is them yea... you’re-“ he started but she cut him off.

“(Y/n) Carter, yes- hi- um- sorry I didn’t mean to cut you off I’m just tired and cold and really want to get inside. He nodded understanding, completely forgotting why he came out here as he looked into her eyes, illuminated by the yellow street lights behind him.

“I’ll show you to your apartment” he smiled and took her in, she was just across the hall from him. Her apartment identical in most ways, however her kitchen was bigger and so was her bathroom.

I’m over getting old

“Thank you, you must be Agent Peña” she smiled as he got the key from the leafy palm in the corner, unlocking her door for her.

“That I am” he smiled and helped with her bags. If he was going to be stuck with her he wanted to be nice. He didn’t want another agent, him and Steve were doing just on their own, but the embasssy expected things to be done instantly, but they are putting to many cooks in the kitchen.

“Thank you for helping, you didn’t need to” she smiled and set her bags down on the bed and looked at him.

“Of course” he smiled and set her things down with the rest. “So, we’re you invited or did you request to be transferred”

Maybe it’s not my weekend

(Y/n) looked at him and pushed hair behind her ears and shook her head. “I requested it actually, I requested it months ago really but-“

“Why would you want to be here? You know what’s happening-“

“That’s exactly why I want to be here” she stood straighter and looked at him. “You need all the help you can get it seems- and I understand if you don’t want me here because I’m a women”

“No! No no- no that isn’t it I promise” he said feeling a bit of his earlier panic come back, but it was only a little. “I don’t care you’re a women I’ve seen your file you’ve done amazing things but we were doing just fine without you...” Javier said looking at her, his hand up in defense.

“Then why did the embassy want me here ASAP?” She asked crossing her arms.

“Because they think we are stupid or something... they expect things done instantly and it’s impossible.” He explained. She nodded and sighed

“I understand that feeling. But I’m here to help... I promise” she looked at him as the moon light filtered threw her window

But it’s gonna be my year

He nodded and sighed “I’ll just let you get some sleep, I’ll see you at the office” he walked out of her room, giving her one last look as he smiled “goodnight Agent Carter” he walked out to his apartment again.

(Y/n) sighed and unpacked all she could tonight and took a few melatonin and went to sleep, trying to get on the schedule.

It wasn’t hard for her to get up in the morning, making her own coffee and getting ready early. She wanted to be there before them so she could go over things and get caught up. So getting ready quickly she tied her hair up in a tight ponytail and made her way to the office. She was always on time or early, wanting to get ahead of things or finish work so she didn’t have to bring things home.

I’m so sick of watching all the minutes pass as I go nowhere

Javier however, couldnt manage to get himself out of sleep. Stuck in a long nightmare that has his body aching and sweating to wake up but he was stuck there, in that spot in the sticky cotton sheets. He tossed and turned but al he could see was the blood, every scene he’d been to, it took a toll on him. He couldn’t help it anymore, couldn’t hold them back, couldn’t stay up and drink a shit ton of coffee and just keep going.

He was hurting himself even more trying to ignore it. He was lost in a sea of sound, until finally he woke up, alone and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“Fuck....” he shook his head and got out of bed, throwing his things in the wash before he got in the shower. He felt so exhausted from sleeping, that’s not right. He hated this constant feeling, it was so much. He couldn’t even escape at home. Seemed the only time he felt fine was when he was baring himself inside a women of the night and telling her how perfect she was, only to wake up alone and try to relive that moment in the shower by himself.

This is my reaction to everything I fear

It was no secret, Javier Peña was a ladies man. To get in the head of the cartel he slept with the same women as the cartel, did it work? Yes occasionally. But it wasn’t that anymore, it wasn’t just work, it was a form of escape now. Was he a sex addict? Yes, most definitely. Did he care? No, because it was release in more ways then one and that’s all he wanted.

He did have a talent tho, remembering every name, every face. Every women. He was a talented man. But right now that didn’t matter, what mattered to him in this moment was making himself feel weightless as hot water ran down his body. He was alone last night, after showing (y/n) her apartment he went home and to bed. So he had nothing to relieve, no face to see when he closed his eyes. Oh... how he was wrong.

Cause I’ve been going crazy, I don’t wanna waste another minute here

There she was, the beauty he met last night. (Y/n) carter. Why was she what he thought about right now? He just met her. She was his partner and he’d only see her face and hands, that’s not even enough for a weirdo to get off. But it was enough for him to wrap his hand around his throbbing cock and leaning his head back as he stroked himself.

His chest heaving and his eyes rolling back as he pumped his fat cock in his hand. Soft grunts escaped his mouth before the words left it “(y/n)... fuck...” he groaned.

He didn’t even know the girl and he was getting off in his shower to her.

This could be all that I’ve waited for

He didn’t know why he felt like this, but in his mind he had her on her knees, her lips wrapped around his tip as she took him down her little throat, just that image made him let out a loud moan. Soon his balls tightened and he was coming all over her face, and down the drain.

He shook his head as he opened his eyes and looked at the mess he made. Causing him to sigh heavily and clean up before he got dressed and ready, trying to get the idea out of his head. It was his first day with her, and he wanted to fuck her. Wow.

This could be everything I don’t wanna dream anymore

When he got there she was already liking over things, remembering faces and writing in her notebook. She looked peaceful there, just staring at a cork-board of killers and drug lords. He could tell quickly this is her environment.

“Hey” he said setting down his coffee and taking off his brown leather jacket. She turned with an other bright smiled and looked at him, her smile lit of the room and made his chest feel tight, but not like his panic the night before, this was warm and different.

“Hey” she said in her silk tone as she set her note book down. “ I hope you don’t mind I’m taking my own notes.”

“Not at all, whatever makes you comfortable” he smiled at her softly. At that moment Steve walked in with his own coffee and pen. He was way to quick to notice the look in javiers eyes, the interest he had in her.

“Thanks” she smiled before looking at Steve “Steve Murphy, wow... hi” she smiled and shook his hand.

“Hey Carter, it’s been awhile” he chuckled and shook her hand

“It’s been more then awhile” she smiled and looked up at him

Maybe it’s not my weekend, but it’s gonna be my year.

“Well it’s good to know we have a good agent on our team” he smiled. “So what are you working on”

“Just taking my own notes so I can memorize things faster and get caught up” she smiled at them.

“Oh did you color coat them too?” He asked a little to condescending. She sighed and caught on quickly but went on.

“No I did not. I’m not a preppy teenager.” She stated simply before walking back to take notes.

“While you do that we are going to go do real things okay?” He grabbed his coffe and walked out with Javier. (Y/n) was pretty used to sexist comments or people thinking she couldn’t do things so she brushed it off, however Javier didn’t.

I’m going crazy, I’m stuck in here

“What the hell was that?!” Javjer looked at Steve and closed the door as they got into their little office.

“What was what?” Steve asked and set his things down.

“You being an asshole to her, what did she do to you?” Javier said taking up for her.

“I don’t know Javier what’s up with you? Staring at her like you’re guess engagement ring sizes!” Steve argued, they argued way to often. Like a married couple really.

“I was not!” Javier scoffed “I can’t be nice to my new coworker?”

“Just yesterday you were dreading her! And now you have heart eyes all over her” Steve said

Maybe it’s not my weekend but it’s gonna be my year

“I don’t have heart eyes, I’m just looking at her, damn” he sat down and opened his earliest files and started work.

“I’m sure” Steve shook his head before starting to work.

Soon (y/n) made her way to the office and walked in and almost fell over with a heart attack “my god, how do you work in such mess” she asked looking around.

“Mess? I think it’s pretty clean” Steve said looking around

“The only clean place here is my desk and it’s still covered in papers. “ she looked at him and set her things down.

“ okay I’ll admit, it’s a bit messy, but we know whether everything is” he leaned back. Just as he said that, Peña who wasn’t paying attention spoke up.

“I can’t find that file from yesterday” he sighed, giving (y/n) the perfect example.

“See!” She looked at Steve.

“Okay fine, we could organize...” he sighed.

I’m so sick of watching am three minutes pass as I go nowhere

After hours of cleaning the office was organized and they found things much easier, so much quicker and efficient. So much so that Javier could ask

“Okay now I need the First Medellin file” he said softly and it was quickly put on his desk.

“See that’s not bad...” (y/n) smiled softly and looked between them.

“But we just wasted so much time doing that” Steve said

“But we are going to save so much more now that it’s organized” she crossed her arms. She was right, organizing the office was the best decision they’d made all year, it helped get things done faster and cleared their minds.

And this is my reaction to everything I fear.

It was a small thing, to organize the office, but when Javier got home he decided to clean the apartment too, washing the bed sheets and making everything up after. Cooking a meal instead of ordering. Just have a day of cleaning up and doing normal people things, it made him sleep better already. The nightmares had calmed down and everything was fine. He was peaceful for a moment, a minute, a few seconds. And then there it was, the scream that made (y/n) drop everything and go to his apartment, he left the door unlocked so it was easy for her to get in and get to his bed side instantly.

“Javier!” She said grabbing his shoulders and shaking him awake. He was starting to sweat again, just as she grabbed him, her touch alone calmed down the terror of his mind, causing him to wake.

“(Y/n)...” he whispered tiredly as he looked at her, she was in a robe, her hair wrapped loosely in a towel.

“Hey buddy” she smiled softly, trying to comfort him in anyway. She didn’t know anything about him but she wanted to try her best to make him feel better, to make him feel weightless.

“What are you doing here...” he asked laying back. She pushed his hair out of his face and massaged his scalp softly as she spoke.

“You screamed and I came as soon as I could... I thought something happened” she answered and watched him, he was gorgeous here, with the moon light covering his glistening chest, highlighting his face and messy hair.

“I’m sorry- I- I didn’t mean too” he said as he sighed.

“It’s okay... I understand... I used to do the same thing after Mexico” she admitted. They barely knew a damn thing but they both felt comfortable with each other.

“How did you get it to stop...” he asked

“Well I did go to therapy but it never seemed to help, so I did what I did as a kid, I get something to read and read till I can’t keep my eyes open, it makes your mind think on the topics of the book rather then the other mess...” she whispered and pulled his covers back over him. He nodded and smiled “I could read to you tonight if you want...”

“You don’t have to do that”

“I don’t mind... get comfy I’ll find something...” she smiled and went to get a book. His eyes trailed her long legs as she walked out to get a book, why did he feel so open and comfortable with her, he just met her.

Cause I’ve been going crazy, I don’t wanna waste a minute here

Taglist: @thinemineours @morgannope @thisis-theway @onabouteverything @blxwjobsforclones @a-dorin @everythinggeeky

This will be a series I hope, so if you want to be tagged in this or more Javier peña stuff please let me know!

#javier peña #Javier peña #Pedro pascal #Javier peña x reader #Javier peña smut #Steve Murphy #narcos #narcos smut #narcos series #Javier peña series #nothing Personal serious

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

Black Velvet (Part Two)

1919. The War is over, but life is far from normal. While the imminent danger is gone for many, it is not gone for Emma Swan. Her secrets have always been dangerous and had the ability to control her, but they have never been more dangerous than now as she is forced to work undercover as a barmaid and keep her true intentions hidden from the most notorious gang leader in England.

Her life depends on it, but unfortunately for Emma, Killian Jones can read her better than anyone ever has.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I know, I know, we thought my days of you guys convincing me to continue one-shots were over 😉 In all seriousness, I did not intend to do this and wasn’t going to, but my mind started working and here we are.

We pick up with our favorite duo (and Lee, lol) on their journey to America! Thanks to @shireness-says and @resident-of-storybrooke for helping me out a little on this🖤

Ao3: Part One | Part Two

Tumblr: Part One

-/-

1920.

Emma has never hated the sea more.

When she was a child, it was her favorite place in the world. The insides of orphanages and homes were dull with broken furniture and scratchy blankets, and when she could get away, she would try to find the ocean. There was a rare time in her life where she lived near the shore, and every day she breathed in the salt air and looked out onto the water with the hope that more was out there and with the hope that she wouldn’t always be so alone.

The sea was her safe haven.

Now it is her enemy.

One of many, if she’s honest. Her childhood dreams have become her waking nightmare. She’s spent fifteen days on the ocean on her way to a new country, but all she wants is to be back in England in the comfort of her bed in her grungy little flat she thought she hated. Every day feels a little closer to her last, like Gold is on her heels, a gun pressed to her temple.

Her thoughts have run wild with fear. What if he was fast enough and followed them? What if he’s on the next ship to America? What if he’s found William or Rob and hurt them?

What if he’s found her son and hurt him?

She doesn’t keep up with him, knowing that each bit of information about him breaks her a little more. She wasn’t ready to be a mother, still isn’t, and it isn’t fair to the kid for her to check up on him. She gave him up for him to have his best chance, for him to have a good life, and from what she’s seen, he’s had that.

Emma is terrified that her running away is going to strip that good life away from him, and she should have thought more about that before she allowed Killian to pay for their passage on this ship. Hopefully his parents have enough protections that everything will be fine, but she knows that just because they work in the government with Gold doesn’t mean he’s safe.

Gold will obviously betray anyone, but she hopes he has limits when it comes to a child.

Her stomach turns as they move over a rough patch of ocean, and she wraps her hands around the railings as another breeze washes over her. Her nose is red with chill, her toes curling under themselves in her boots, and suddenly the temperature warms, a solid body closing in on hers, an arm wrapping around her shoulder and pulling her closer as unshaven whiskers prickle against her temple.

“You’ll be nothing but an icicle if you stay out here, love,” Killian tells her as the ocean roars around them.

“And why would you care about that?” Emma bristles.

He sighs. “Please come back to the cabin.”

Emma pulls away from Killian, gooseflesh bubbling up her arms and a shiver wrapping around her spine. She doesn’t feel like having him near her or going back to the cabin. Escaping closeness to Killian is the reason she left the warmth of the cabin to begin with. “I don’t want to come back to the cabin.”

“You are going to freeze.”

“It is a hell of a lot warmer out here than it is in there.”

“You speak in falsities.”

She does, but she won’t admit that.

Emma cocks her head and rolls her eyes before looking at the ocean again. According to the Captain and several crew members, they should be in New York either tonight or tomorrow morning, and Emma cannot wait to step foot on dry land again. She doesn’t know what their plans are for when they get there, but she knows that even if she doesn’t stay with Killian, she has enough money to get her lodgings and food for at least a few months. She hopes that she’ll be back in England by then. Or another country in Europe.

“I don’t.”

Killian’s lips press into a firm line, and the lines on his forehead appear. She’s seen that look more than she would care for, and she doesn’t care to see it now. “Swan.”

“No. I don’t want to go back to the fucking cabin, Killian. I’ve been in there for two weeks with you and Lee, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of having to listen to Lee complain, and I’m exhausted from having to figure out when you’re going to ignore me or not. I sleep with your chest pressed to my back every night, and I’ve never felt so alone.”

“What exactly is it that you want from me?”

Emma throws her hands up in the air as they hit another rough wave and Emma’s stomach churns. This fucking ship. “I want you to make up your mind, Killian. Do you want to kill me for betraying you? Do you want to fuck me? Do you want both? Because I don’t know, and I need to know what I’m dealing with. Because if I’m going to die, do it now so I don’t have to suffer on this ship any longer.”

He takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest, his coat shifting with the movement. Emma watches as his hair blows in the wind, long black strands whipping together then apart. He hasn’t shaved for these two weeks, his skin is paler, and there are purple bags underneath his eyes. Even with the striking blue, his eyes are tired, sad, and Emma likes to convince herself that he is just as confused and affected by everything like she is. He has to be, but then again, Emma has never known Killian to be unsure of anything.

His power is in his sureness. His steadiness.

It is all rocking beneath their feet.

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not going to kill you. That has never been in question.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Bloody hell! I don’t know, Swan! You cannot expect me to have everything between us figured out in a fortnight when I’m aware of the fact that I’ve known you since June and yet all of it has been a lie.”

“It hasn’t all been a lie.”

“What hasn’t been?” he counters, his voice still raised, and she notices the crowd around them turning their heads to look. Their conversation has piqued the interest of the ship, and Emma doesn’t want that. She cannot have this conversation with people watching, listening, judging her. “I need to know because I cannot be a fool who is brought down by giving my trust and my heart to someone who hasn’t bothered to do the same.”

“What you mean to say is you cannot be a fool who is brought down by a woman.”

Killian scoffs and steps toward her, pressing his hand into the small of her back. It’s a feather of a touch beneath her layers of clothes, but she can still feel it, warmth permeating through. “Let’s go back to our cabin.”

“Is Lee there?”

“No.”

Emma nods and begins walking through the crowd until they come across the staircase that leads them below deck and to their cabin. They’re in the middle of the hall, and she has to kick the door open until she’s in the small space that has nothing more than two small beds and a dresser that is bolted into the floor. There were more luxurious rooms as well as ones without privacy, but Killian didn’t want to waste money when they don’t have much of a plan for what to do when they arrive in New York. Well, he might have a plan. Before they left he managed to send a letter to Liam as well as making several phone calls, but Emma wasn’t privy to any of that information. She was still trying to wrap her head around the previous twenty-four hours of her life.

The door clicks closed behind them, and Emma settles down on Lee’s bed while Killian sits opposite her on their bed, his knees hitting hers. In reality, it’s much warmer down here, and the shivers that were taking over her begin to dissipate.

Emma loves this man sitting across from her. She loves the blue of his eyes, the quirk of his smile, the scars lining his skin. She loves the way his mouth feels when it’s on her, the way he feels inside of her. She loves the way he tells a story, the way he makes her laugh until her stomach hurts, and the way that despite their history, he makes her comfortable for the first time in her life.

No part of her is comfortable right now.

Sucking in a deep breath of air, Emma looks up from her twiddling fingers and to an expectant Killian. She doesn’t know what he wants from her or what she can give him, so she begins with the basics, the history that is unchanged no matter how much she wishes to change it. “I was born in Brighton. I don’t know of my parents. I was raised in homes until I left to be on my own at sixteen. That’s when I became pregnant, and everything after that has been me working for Gold. He gave me my education out of necessity for the job, and everything I own has been his doing. A part of me sometimes feels like everything I am is his doing.” Emma shrugs and clasps her hands together. “I can’t think of any specific lie I’ve told you. I have learned it’s easier to keep track of things if I only tell the truth, even if it means cutting some details short. The only lie was my intentions and why I walked into My Fairest Lady.”

“How old are you now?” Killian asks.

“I turned twenty-four in October.”

He hums and leans back, closing his eyes so his dark lashes fall against his cheeks. “So Gold has had you under his thumb for eight years then?”

“Yes.”

“He’s a coward of a man,” Killian growls, but his eyes stay closed. “His wife, my Milah, was tired of the way he paid her no attention. She wanted out of the marriage. She wanted…she wanted to do many things with her life, but he wouldn’t let her leave. When she did, he murdered her in front of me and then set the building on fire. I nearly lost my hand trying to save her. I’ve never understood why he went away after that, why he was waiting to catch me in an illegal act. He could have pulled the trigger at any moment, but he didn’t.”

“Do you have an idea as to why?”

One eye opens, and his foot hooks around her ankle. “I think he believed that living on the edge of fear would be a greater torture than instant death, but I fear neither him nor death. He should fear me for what I’m going to do when I see him again.”

The venom in Killian’s voice has Emma’s shivers return. This is a man set out for vengeance, a man who wants to take a life, and as much as she would like to do the same for all Gold has done to her, she doesn’t know if she can.

Emma has feared death for years, and all she wants is to live without shackles holding her down.

“How do you despise Gold but love me?” Emma asks. “I worked for him. I could have been the reason you were murdered.”

“You had no choice, love.” He leans forward, invading her space, and his breath comes up in a white puff of air between them. She can smell the rum he must have had earlier. “I never once thought I would love again after Milah. My heart was black, and there was no room for that sort of thing, especially after the War. My only job in life is to keep the Jones Corporation alive and make sure it continues when I’m gone, but then you walked into the pub and sang as you poured a drink for Leroy. Something shifted inside of me then. I cannot give you my full trust, love. Not yet. And I cannot guarantee that there will be no strife between us because I am still trying to figure what the hell is going on in my mind, but I would like to imagine there is a world where you and I can have the simple pleasures in life.”

He leans back and laughs, clicking his tongue. “Well, at least on occasion. I don’t think you and I are set for a life with a white picket fence and nothing to worry us.”

“I’d like that,” Emma smiles, “I think. It’d be nice not to worry.”

Killian leans forward and reaches his hand out. She takes it and is pulled into him, settling her knees on either side of his hips and she settles in his lap. His lips ghost over the bare skin of her neck, his hand tugging away her scarf until there’s more skin for him to devour, and Emma lets him. She does not know what is between them or what will come next, but for now, she can forget about all of that.

She hasn’t felt good like that for two weeks, and the chill that’s been constant on her skin has been both from the ocean and from Killian, his shoulder turned to her even when he’s pressed against her.

“Swan,” he whispers, almost reverent, as her hands reach underneath his coat and start to take it off. “What are you doing?”

“Do you have to fully trust me for us to do this?”

His breath is warm against her, his teeth sharp with her skin, but his nose is soft as it presses into the hollow of her throat to speak. “No.” He helps her push his coat off, and now she can feel the muscles in his back. “You don’t have to fully trust me either, love, but one day, we’ll do this with no barriers between us.”

Emma’s nails scratch against his skin. “What a glorious day that will be.”

Killian kisses her until she’s dizzy, touches her until she’s breathless, and he moves inside of her until she’s fully warm, sweat beading at her temples and the small of her back. Killian’s weight above her is a comfort, his hand on her thigh is a guide, urging her to lift it higher so he can sink deeper, and his voice is a melody of a song that is familiar but the lyrics are floating away, so close, but far enough away for her to not be able to reach.

She doesn’t care.

Not when she finally might have someone who could want to be hers.

“Oi, did you see what they’re serving in the dining hall?” Lee groans as he pushes his way into the room with little preamble. “It’s nothing more than stale bread. I – oh, fuck off,” he mumbles as Killian shifts over Emma to cover her and pulls the sheets over his arse. He chuckles into her neck, and Emma presses her lips to his cheek. “I have to share this cabin with the two of you. Have a little compassion.”

“Lee, go back to the fucking dining hall and get us some bread,” Killian mumbles, pulling away from her neck and winking.

“Did you not hear me when I said it was stale?”

“Are you so obtuse that you do not realize that the lady and I need our privacy?”

“I expect my own room whenever we get to New York.”

“You’ll be lucky if I don’t leave you on the streets. Now go.”

Lee curses underneath his breath, but he quickly leaves the room, the cabin door clicking behind him. Killian’s jaw clenches, and Emma reaches up to caress it, her fingers dancing along his skin, coaxing him back to her.

“Would you really leave your brother in the streets in a foreign country?”

“Eh,” Killian clicks his tongue, “possibly. He has a few lessons he needs to learn.”

Emma sighs and closes her eyes before pressing her lips to the underside of his jaw. “Promise me you won’t leave Lee on the streets…unless he insults me because I’m a woman again. Then he can spend some time away from us.”

“That is a promise I can make,” Killian chuckles.

-/-

When they step on dry land the next day, Emma’s legs nearly crumble beneath her. America is a foreign land, and while the soil should feel the same as England, it doesn’t.

She doesn’t know how it feels or what to feel, and Emma doesn’t fully process everything that happens once they leave the ship. She fills out papers, careful only to give as much information as is necessary, and she watches as Killian puts in false information. She should have done the same, but it’s too late now.

Hopefully Gold will never make the voyage here and if he does, he won’t come through this port and check the records.

She doesn’t know where to go, but Killian does, taking them to a line of smaller boats that are going to take them into Manhattan. The thought of getting on another boat makes her stomach queasy, but she does it anyway, keeping her luggage in her lap. When they’re on land again, they start walking, wandering through bustling streets that are full of more people than Emma ever saw in Birmingham. As they move and her feet begin to ache in her boots, she watches as the clothes and the hair change, going from dull and much like hers to bright and extravagant. The buildings change too: fresh paint, doormen, nice cars waiting on the outside. It’s two different worlds, and from everything she’s heard, there are more worlds within this place. It’s divided between classes and race, and Killian walks through every section like he belongs.

He knows not a soul, but Emma swears some who pass by look as if they know who he is, what he does.

The chill that runs down her spine and makes residence there returns as she thinks once more of why they are here, of what they’re running from.

She’s been running for her entire life, but she’s never run this far.

She’s never had someone to run with.

They stop at a small restaurant for something fresh to eat, the aroma of fresh baked bread overpowering the scents of the city, and Emma nearly melts into the leather booth that sits by a warm fire. Killian orders their lunch, nicely cooked beef with a heavy soup and bread, and the taste is so miraculous that even Lee is quiet for the duration of the meal. He’s been complaining, wishing he would have stayed back in England and traveled to see Liam and Elsa instead of coming to America, but unless he wants to get back on the ship and travel back now, he is stuck with them.

Emma isn’t too fond of the kid, but at the end of the day, he is still a kid who has time left until he’s technically a man. Even growing up in times of war in a family that is entrenched in crime and danger, he still has the soft edges of a child who has been raised without a mother and is searching for someone to guide them.

Emma would know. She’s been searching for her entire life, and she did not have any brothers to surround herself with.

The couple who owns the restaurant comes to say hello and ask if they would like any more food, and when they hear the differing accents, they begin to ask questions. It puts Emma on edge, as if these two people who radiate kindness could know they are on the run, and she doesn’t like to answer with anything more than the minimum. Killian is much better at talking to them, eloquently giving them enough information without giving too much, and she does not fail to notice the way he keeps her left hand in his, hidden underneath the table.

“My wife and I are thrilled to be starting a new life here,” Killian tells them, squeezing her hand, a silent request for her to play along. “It seems we’ve already picked the greatest restaurant in the city to dine in, so we are off to a wonderful start.”

“Oh, how long have you two been married?” the woman, a petite brunette with short hair asks.

“Newlyweds,” Killian answers. “What about the two of you?”

“David, how long has it been now? Five years?”

“It was five years in October.” David kisses his wife’s temple, and Emma moves closer to Killian, glancing at him in an attempt to see what angle he’s playing. “Best five years of my life.”

“And you’ve opened up this damn fine establishment in this time?”

“If only,” Mary Margaret laughs, holding her hand to her chest. “My parents own several businesses across the city, and when we were married, they gave David a few of their finer dining establishments to manage. Where are you two living? We could give you all of the best recommendations.”

“We haven’t figured that out yet, love, but I’m sure we will find a place.”

“Stay with us!” Mary Margaret suggests, rising on her toes in excitement.

“Pardon?” Killian asks as Emma coughs on her drink and Lee kicks his leg under the table.

“Stay with us,” Mary Margaret repeats. David doesn’t look thrilled at her suggestion, but she’s powering on. “We live in an apartment a few blocks away, and it is far too big for just the two of us. You could have your own bedrooms, bathrooms, and living area. We would have to share the kitchen, but I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem, would it, honey?”

“We couldn’t impose,” Killian insists, laying on every ounce of charm he has with his smile.

“My wife won’t take no for an answer, so believe me, you wouldn’t be imposing. We’d love to help get you on your feet. Maybe one day if we make it over to England, you two could be our guide.”

“Absolutely, mate,” Killian promises, squeezing Emma’s hand.

-/-

When Mary Margaret mentioned her family owning several businesses and restaurants, Emma knew they were wealthy. It was obvious in the way the woman dressed and the way she spoke, but as Emma sits on a bed with blankets as soft as silk and as warm as every coat she has ever owned, she is taken aback by the luxury of the place they are in. Emma has never been in a palace, but she imagines the Nolan flat is similar. Everything is ornate, no detail left unchecked, and being inside here is a different world than the outside. Even where the city is bustling and bright, there is still a darkness to it with the rarity of nature. It’s not Birmingham with its lack of sun and smog-coated air, but there are similarities.

This flat is a world away from any place she has ever stayed, and she imagines once they leave, she’ll never return.

If she’s honest with herself, Emma is worried her clothes are going to ruin the furniture every time she sits down.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret calls as she enters the room, a basket in her arms. “I know you likely have your own things, but I figured you could use some soaps and lotions. I also brought a robe. I have several, and I can only wear one at a time.”

“That really isn’t necessary.”

“I insist.” She walks a little further into the room and places the things on a low table. “The boys are having a drink together and talking business. You know how men do. So I figured I could make sure you’re comfortable.”

“This is the nicest place I’ve ever been inside, so yes, I am more than comfortable.”

“Good.” Mary Margaret smiles, and sits down on the arm of a sofa. “Listen. I don’t know if you’re interested in working or if Killian is the breadwinner for you and Lee, but if you are, I have connections with every department store and several offices where you could be a secretary. What did you do back in England? Did you work? I know it is rare for married women to work, but I take you for a rare woman.”

“I was a barmaid,” Emma lies. She was, technically, but for years before that she was blackmailed into being a spy. A part of her doesn’t feel free of that yet. “I was a barmaid and sometimes I would clean homes.”

“Oh, well, if you want to work in one of our restaurants, I could arrange that. Or you don’t have to do anything at all. What does your husband do?”

Emma blanches, and she inhales to calm her breathing. “He produced rum, owned a few pubs. It’s a family trade, actually. After the War, Killian and his older brother took over, but Killian wanted to explore the world for a little while and allow Lee to experience new things and mature. I don’t think Lee expected that would mean traveling with the two of us.”

“Is that how you and Killian met? At one of his pubs?”

“Yes.” Emma nods and smiles, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to smooth away the gooseflesh. “That’s how we met.”

“Do you not wear a ring?”

Emma’s fists clinch, and she attempts to hide her left hand, wrapping it under her arm. “Oh, it’s in my luggage. I didn’t want to risk losing it or having someone take it off my hand.”

Mary Margaret nods and returns Emma’s smile, hopefully believing her lie. “Anyhow, I don’t mean to be intrusive. I’ll leave you to bathe and take care of yourself. Would you like to have breakfast with me in the morning?”

“I would love that.”

Once Mary Margaret has left the room, Emma rises from the bed and collects the things she left. The bathroom is connected to the room, and the tile is cold against Emma’s feet. The bathwater is warm, however, the lotions all smell of vanilla and apples. After she’s bathed, Emma’s skin is softer than it’s ever been, and the dark shadows that have been lingering underneath her eyes for two weeks have begun to fade. She’s clean and comfortable, and she melts into the sheets when she gets into bed. Emma doesn’t know what time it is when Killian sulks into the room, but what she does know is that he never comes to bed. Instead, he sleeps on the chaise in the corner of the room and she’s left with no warm body pressed into hers.

Emma’s confusion grows, but at the moment, all she cares about is how she is sleeping with solid ground beneath her.

-/-

There’s a note and a box sitting next to her head when she wakes up the next morning.

Wear this. The Nolans are traditional. That is why I said we were married in the eatery. I realized in my conversations with David that we would need rings and to discuss a few details to align our stories. I don’t want to take advantage of them or their kindness, but as you well know, sometimes lies can be used to get us what we need.

Killian.

Emma squints her eyes to see if the words change, but they don’t. The words don’t change, and Killian’s lack of presence in the room doesn’t change either. She doesn’t know what time it is or where he is, but she knows he’s not here.

She also knows that inside the black velvet box is a ring, a gold band holding up a round emerald stone. It’s delicate and intricate, and even with her untrained eye, she knows it is real.

-/-

Emma’s day is spent with Mary Margaret in the flat and in another one of their restaurants where they eat lunch. They chat and wander around, and Mary Margaret shows Emma her collection of books as well as some paints and fabrics she uses to occupy her time when she cannot drive to her family’s land where they have horses and a bow and arrow course where Mary Margaret apparently likes to spend much of her time.

Emma never would have figured the woman for enjoying so much time outdoors, and the past near decade of Emma’s life has been spent reading people for their secrets.

Killian returns long after the sun has set, Lee and David with him, and David informs all of them that Killian will now be handling the books at several restaurants until he establishes himself in the city. Lee will work as waitstaff when he can, but they want to work on him enrolling in University.

It all sounds great, but to Emma, it sounds like she’s been left out and that she’ll have to piddle around all day with nothing to do but talk about fabrics and the latest fashions with Mary Margaret.

Emma isn’t used to not working, and she’s going to need something to occupy her time if she doesn’t want her mind to run wild. Working in a department store or as a secretary sounds dreadful, but she may have to take the offers she can get.

-/-

“Do you like it?”

“Hmm?”

“The ring. Do you like it?”

Emma glances down at the stone on her finger, the heavy weight she’s been fiddling with all day, and she turns back to Killian as his arms wrap around her waist and his lips press into her neck.

“It’s beautiful. Where did you get it? How did you get it so early in the morning?”

“I have my ways.”

“Killian.”

He doesn’t say anything back, instead kissing her until no thoughts are left in her brain and no clothes are left on her body. They fall into the back and forth, the push and the pull, and Emma’s left breathless as she moves on top of him, every problem melting away into the firmness of Killian and the comfort she feels with him.

The pleasure too, especially when his head is buried between her thighs, and Emma can do nothing more than hold onto his hair as tightly as she is holding on the sheets.

-/-

When she wakes up in the morning, he’s gone, and she’s not sure if he slept next to her or not. The blanket hanging over the chaise makes her think otherwise.

-/-

Emma takes the next few days to explore the city. As kind as Mary Margaret is, she cannot spend all of her time with the woman, and she certainly cannot commit to a job when she isn’t sure which would make her less miserable. So, she walks and explores, listening to people play music from street corners and coax people into their stores. It’s as if the people never sleep and more and more come in each and every day. Emma thrives in it, even if she stays in the corners and observes.

So much of her life has been spent with a gun pressed to the back of her head, and for once, she has been relieved of the cold weight of the metal.

She isn’t sure how to deal with any of it.

Days begin to pass, and Emma spends many of them wandering, even more of them sitting by a large window with a pile of books next to her as she stares out at the snow falling outside and coating the streets with a white powder. Killian comes and goes, sometimes coming back for meals in the middle of the day, sometimes not, and a week after arriving, Emma tells Mary Margaret she would love to work in one of their eateries as a barmaid or a server, even if that is uncommon in America.

That’s when all hell breaks loose, and the government passes laws about the sale of alcohol.

The prohibition, they call it.

Bloody pointless, Killian calls it.

Every night at dinner, Killian and David discuss how not being able to sell alcohol is affecting the restaurants. Mary Margaret’s father comes by one night in a rage of fury that is only quenched when he realizes Killian, Emma, and Lee are there, and it seems that the little slice of paradise they’ve found may be disappearing.

“Should we look for somewhere else to stay?” Emma asks as she rubs lotion down her arms, vanilla filling the bathroom. “I know the Nolans will never lose their money because they owned more than pubs and eateries, but I can’t help but feel we’re taking advantage of them.”

Killian moves a blade across his jaw as he stares in the mirror. “The only lie we’ve told them is about the state of our relationship, love.”

“That’s quite the lie.”

“I don’t think it’s too far fetched.”

Emma turns to him and crosses her arms over her chest. “We are not married, Killian. We are so far from married that we don’t sleep in the same bed. Actually, I take that back. From what I’ve heard of some couples, we might as well be married in that you fuck me and then leave. So I guess you’re right. We’re not lying to them.”

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he finishes his shave and puts the blade down near the sink before turning to her with a clenched jaw and fire in his eyes. “What is it you’re trying to say, Swan?”

“I don’t think I have to bloody explain it!”

Killian cocks his head to the side and mirrors her, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “So, you’re cross that I’m not sleeping in the bed with you?”

“I think it’s preposterous that you sleep in a chaise when we have a bed.”

“I think that’s not what you’re truly mad about.”

“Well, what would you know about what I think?”

“You’re an open book, Swan. I’ve told you that before, and I’ll tell you again. You try to hide how you feel, but you cannot do that from me.”

“Well, that makes you a real arse because then you would know that I’m not happy to be wandering around this place all day with Mary Margaret. I’m not someone who is meant to be a housewife.”

“I thought you were tending the bar at – ”

“I obviously lost that job, Killian. We can’t sell liquor.”

Emma turns away from him and catches a look at herself in the mirror. Her hair is long and soft, brushed out and curled, and it’s never been like this, never this smooth and well taken care of. Half a month in a new place, and she already looks like a different person.

“I don’t like not having work,” Emma continues, “and I don’t like that I’m in a new country and the man I came here with runs off and spends all his time in business I know nothing about.”

Killian scoffs and drops his hands to his sides. “Need I remind you that we are here because you got yourself involved with Gold.”

“Need I remind you that you slept with his wife and are a gangster. I didn’t make him come after you like that. You know I had no fucking choice, Killian. I was trying not to die or to have my son killed! You have always had a choice in your actions. This is not my fault.”

“You betrayed me,” Killian says, his voice steady even as his fingers twitch, the ring on his left hand catching the light from the lamp above. “You betrayed me. You worked with my enemy, you lied to me for months, and you made me believe you were getting close to me because you fancied me. Little did I know that it was because you were trying to learn all of my secrets so I could be carted off to prison while you continued to live your life.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“I know.”

Emma throws her hands in the air and covers her face, trying to regulate her breathing to calm her breath.

She is not successful.

“So what do you want, Killian? I can’t keep having this conversation. I can’t keep walking on the edge of a cliff. I want some stability. I want to not be terrified all the time, and not knowing where I stand with you terrifies me. If it would be better for us to part ways, let’s part ways. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling like you’re never going to trust me. I’m tired of us running in circles and not solving anything.”

Killian moves her hands away from her face, calloused fingers cupping her chin and tilting her gaze up to his. His eyes are still dark, his mouth still firm, but there’s a softness there that wasn’t there before. “I am not an honorable man, love, and you deserve better than me. You deserve to live a good life with a man who can give you everything your heart desires and who doesn’t have so many secrets.”

“Tell me your secrets,” Emma whispers. “Tell me, and I’ll tell you the rest of mine. That’s the only way we can make this work, and if we can’t, I can find my way back home or to a new place. I’ve always been on my own, and I don’t have any problem with that.”

Killian leans his head forward and presses his forehead against hers, wet hair dripping onto her. “I should hate you. You should hate me for how I’ve treated you over the past month, for how I treat others.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“No?”

“I think you’ve been a right bastard lately, but I also think I deserve it.”

“You don’t.” Emma chuckles, and Killian presses his nose further into her cheek. His lips inch closer, but they don’t touch, not yet. “We’re fucked up, Swan. There’s no way around that.”

“But we could be less fucked up if we tried.”

Killian huffs and gently kisses her. “Will you come to bed with me?”

“Well, as long as we get into bed and not your chaise.”

“Aye, I think that sounds like a better plan. The bloody thing has been straining my back.”

Nothing about their relationship has ever been normal, and as they settle under the covers of their oversized bed, Emma is once again reminded of that. They’ve never had this, not like this. They had their night in the pub, which was interrupted, and then they were forced to share space on the ship. Here, Killian has only come to bed for sex, and then he’s moved to his own space.

This is foreign, especially as Emma rolls over to face Killian and finds him already looking at her with his hand reaching out for her hip underneath the covers.

“The night we first slept together,” Emma begins, “why’d you have to get that gun that night?”

He slowly blinks. “Rob needed it the next day for a job, and it wouldn’t have been smart to go digging in graveyards in the daylight.”

“What was the job?”

Killian raises his brow. “Someone made an attempt on his lady’s life, and he needed to take care of it. I was the only one who knew the location of the guns, so it had to be me who retrieved it.”

Emma nods and moves an inch closer as Killian’s thumb traces circles on her hip. “Will you tell me more? About everything? As if I was one of your brothers and in the inner circle?”

Killian huffs and squeezes her hip. “You are certainly not one of my brothers, and thank fuck for that.”

“So crude,” Emma laughs.

“I’ve never claimed to be otherwise. My life isn’t pretty. Are you sure you want to hear it all?”

“No secrets,” Emma repeats. “That’s what I want. Keeping them has gotten us nowhere.”

So, he tells her. He tells her of how his family has been in the business for generations. They used to be wealthier, but they fell apart under his grandfather’s guidance. His father, who Killian holds no affection for, was ruthless and his ruthlessness elevated the Jones Corporation to the levels it once held in the past. He made the relationships with the coppers, figured out how to hide illegal dealings in legal ones, and it is with all of his teachings that Killian learned everything he knows.

It is with Killian’s hatred of him that Killian has learned to do everything better than his father.

It is his love of his mum that kept Killian from living his entire life in the pursuit of money and revenge. After he lost Milah, all he wanted was revenge on Gold and every person who had done him wrong, but then the War happened and Killian saw more evil in the world than he had ever seen before. It changed him, and while violence is still necessary in his line or work, he does everything he can to avoid it or minimize the carnage.

Killian tells her so much of everything she’s never heard before, and as each minute passes, the man in front of her changes, a chameleon that she is attempting to keep up with.

She does the same.

She tells him everything she can think to tell in the dark of night when sleep is creeping into the edges of her eyes, and she knows in the morning she won’t remember each word she utters and each story she tells. But in the morning her heart will be lighter, and maybe, just maybe, she and Killian can be lighter too.

For good this time, with all of the trust they did not have when exchanging stories on the ship.

-/-

He drives her across the city in the morning, not telling her the destination, but she recognizes Harlem and the way it differs from Fifth Avenue almost immediately. The buildings are smaller, not as luxurious, the people are more diverse, and the streets are filled with children playing and more street performers than in the main parts of Manhattan.

It is more like what Emma is used to, and it creates a stark divide between the wealthy and the normal.

She imagines she would like to live here more than in the Nolans’ flat.

“Was that Lee?” Emma asks as they drive past a small block of apartments. “Isn’t he supposed to be in classes?”

“He gets time off, and the lass he fancies lives here. That is not what I’m trying to show you no matter how interesting the lad’s love life may be.”

What he is trying to show her is an empty café, the black and white tile work half done but no one around to finish it. Despite the obviously new tile, it looks abandoned. “What is this place?”

Killian takes her hand, interlacing their fingers, and walks her through the café and toward the back wall. He presses against it. There’s a click, and then the wall is sliding open. Killian guides her through the hidden door, which makes her heart ache for the My Fairest Lady back home, and then they’re walking down a hallway and down a set of stairs until they’re in what looks like a combination of a pub and a dance hall. It’s darker and full of stained wood, and the lights are dim. There are no windows, but she does see several doors behind curtains and counters.

“Killian – ” Emma begins as he turns on more lights. “Killian, please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

He turns to her and flashes his trademark smile, the one that could get her to do anything without a word muttered from his lips. “It’s a speakeasy.”

They’ve been popping up across the city ever since the ban on liquor was announced, and she should have known this is what Killian has been doing.

Emma shakes her head. “You’re a scoundrel.”

“Dashing rapscallion. I prefer that.” He winks and takes both of her hands in his. “I don’t know how long we’re going to be here. I’ve wired and written Liam and Will, and they both say they’ve heard whispers of Gold searching for me, for us. Liam is staying in France for a longer time to protect Elsa. Will and Rob are taking care of the businesses. I don’t have everything figured out yet, but I thought we should make the best of our time here.”

“You’re going to get arrested. You don’t have the coppers in your pockets here. Do you know what you’re doing?”

“This is who I am, Emma. This is what I do. I find ways to maneuver around the bloody system when I can. I know many a lass expects a man to change and become softer when he falls in love, but I do not want to give up who I am.”

“I would never ask you to do that.”

“Then trust me,” he insists, cocking his head and smiling, a real, genuine smile this time. “I know what I’m doing, and this is an opportunity for me, for us. If I don’t do it, someone else will. You can help me. You can be by my side, fully this time. It’ll be similar to how I ran things back home.”

“That nearly got you killed.”

“I don’t think a spy is going to maneuver her way into my life and seduce me.”

Emma tilts her head back with laughter. “She better not.”

Killian tugs her closer until they’re pressed together, and he glides his lips over hers as his hand slides down her back and rests in the dip. He’s gentle and demanding all at once, and he could convince her of anything with one kiss.

One kiss, one smile, one turn of phrase.

“We make quite the team, love.”

“We’ll have to see about that.”

-/-

Over the next few weeks and months, Emma watches as Killian works his magic on this place. Out front, construction continues on the café, a place that will sell sandwiches, sweets, tea, and coffee at a quick pace to compete with other cafes, and in the hidden halls behind and below, the dark room is finished and transformed into a pub that Emma would have wandered into in England with little question. It’s beautiful, and when it’s full of people and records are at full blast, Emma can feel the life vibrating through her skin.

New York City is unlike any place she’s ever been before, more alive than any place else, but hidden in the back of a café with Killian’s arm around her waist and a drink in her hand as people dance around her, Emma knows that she partially feels that way because of the man she’s with.

He brings out color in things that are black and white, and she could dance and laugh with him forever.

The money comes in like nothing she’s ever seen, and Liam brings in barrels of rum and whiskey from England. It’s a coordinated effort that nearly goes awry at the port, but they manage it. For a week, Liam, Lee, and Killian are reunited, and since Liam brought Elsa, Emma takes her to meet Mary Margaret, who insists on taking them shopping and to get their hair done before they dine in a park, the new spring flowers beginning to bloom. Mary Margaret and David have no idea as to what goes on behind the scenes of one of their businesses, and Emma hopes they never do. She’s grown overly fond of the couple, and they’re good people. She doesn’t like taking advantage of that kindness, and after much warring in her heart, she’s decided that she won’t tell them about any of it. Their ignorance is for their safety.

That isn’t a thought she has too often, though. She’s too busy helping Killian by making sure everything runs smoothly. Every day more people come to their speakeasy. Lately, it’s been full of singers and actors who are in the pictures and on Broadway, and Emma knows they’re gaining a reputation as one of the best places for drinks and music. As good as business is, that also comes with its own dangers. With more notoriety comes more of a chance of the coppers finding out, but with his impossible charm, Killian has managed to get them in his pocket as well. It hasn’t been easy, and there have been times when she’s not sure Killian is going to return to their bed at night.

He always does, laying a kiss on her cheek before he falls into a slumber right before the sunrise.

Elsa and Liam return back to Europe after a wonderful week, taking Lee with them after his schooling period finishes, but Emma and Killian don’t join them on their return. Rumors of Gold run rampant through Birmingham. Few have seen him, but Liam told Killian yet again that the threat on his life is still prominent. It would be better to stay until they can locate Gold and take care of their problem. Liam looked at Emma with disgust when he said it, like every danger toward Killian was her own fault, but she knows that Gold’s history with Killian predates Emma. His deciding to murder Killian, however, does not, and she never allows that to slip from her mind. Emma doesn’t think Liam likes her much, likely thinks her too much trouble, and she wouldn’t disagree.

She never was too fond of Liam, but after he assures her that her son is safe with his parents living life completely unaware of his birth mother’s troubles, she thinks she has never loved anyone more.

She won't let anything bad happen to that child. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

When Mary Margaret announces she’s pregnant in May, Killian makes the decision that he and Emma are going to move to their own place. The Nolans insist that they stay. They like having them around, but it truly is the best for them to find their own home. Emma promises that she will see Mary Margaret every week and that she will be sure to shower her baby with all of the finest things.

“Are you two thinking about children?” Mary Margaret asks as she cradles her bump. “You would be a wonderful mother, Emma.”

“Maybe someday,” Emma insists, trying to keep her voice steady when it wants to waver. “Maybe someday.”

Killian takes her hand, warm palm over the cool metal of her ring, and squeezes before guiding her out of the Nolans’ apartment and to the car that’s waiting to take them to their new home, a brownstone away from Fifth Avenue but still close enough that Emma can easily walk everywhere she needs to go.

Their furniture has already been placed, food stocked in the cupboard and the icebox, and while now would usually be the time for them both to go to the café, Killian assures her that someone else is taking care of it for the night. They can take the night off to relax into their new home and make it theirs.

Emma quickly learns what he means by that when his hand cups the back of her head as he pushes her into the door. She laughs into the kiss as Killian murmurs filthy words, but soon she’s breathless. Each touch, each whisper, each kiss builds her higher, and by the time they’re in their bed and stripped out of their clothes, Emma is dizzy in the desire for it all.

As she moves above him, each thrust of his hips and movement of hers bringing them closer, all Emma can think about is how she’s home.

This is her first true one, and it is nothing like any of her dreams told her it would be.

“I love you,” she whispers to Killian as her nails leave red marks on his chest.

“And I you,” he promises, bringing her down to meld their lips together.

-/-

Emma’s staring at the ceiling of her bedroom, soft sheets strewn over half her body, and Killian’s leg is half hooked over hers, his breathing coming down from heavy until she can barely hear it at all. Emma reaches out for him, placing her hand on his chest, and Killian reaches for it and brings it to his lips to kiss.

“Do you like your ring?” he asks.

“Hmmm?”

“Your ring. Do you like it?”

Emma lifts her hand away from Killian’s and moves her fingers, watching the gold and emerald glint in the lamplight. For so long this ring felt foreign on her. It felt like more of a lie than it was, but now, when she takes the ring off to bathe or to clean, it’s as if something is missing from her.

“It’s beautiful.” Emma flips over onto her stomach, her breasts pressing against Killian’s chest, and she props herself up on her elbow to look both at Killian and the ring. “How did you get it so quickly? You left it by the bed so early in the morning. I don’t think any jewelers were open before the sun rose, and you didn’t answer the first time I asked.”

He clicks his tongue and presses his head back to the pillow. His hair is messy from where her hands were running through it, and she can see some of the lines around his eyes and the few that have started to form on his forehead. She realizes now that she has no idea how old he is. He was born in August, but she doesn’t know what year. He asked her about her age, but she never thought to do the same.

“It was my mum’s.”

Emma stops tapping her fingers against his chest and looks at Killian. “What?”

“Your ring was my mum’s. She had it made for herself, and she wore it every day. When she was sick, she gave Liam her wedding ring, and she gave me this one. We were instructed that we were to give the rings to the women we married, and, well…”

Killian arches his brows, as if he wants Emma to fill in the blanks, and Emma drops down and rests her hands on his chest and her chin over her knuckles so her eyes are on the same level as him.

“We’re not married.”

“Aye, but…” Killian tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, and his left hand finds her back, cool metal running against her skin. “We could be. I could make an honest woman out of you.”

“I think you and I both know neither of us will ever be honest.”

Killian chuckles. “We’re honest with each other, and that’s enough for me.”

Emma’s heart is beating in a faster rhythm than a jazz band, and yet, she feels calm.

She feels steady, and her home is so much more than the four walls around them.

“Would you really want me as your wife? All I seem to do is get you into trouble.”

“Ah, but I love trouble.” His hand slides further down her body and squeezes her arse. “And you only get me into the best kind. So, what do you say, Emma Swan? Would you like to marry me?”

“Yes.”

-/-

They get married a week later in the park near their home. Killian wears a suit that isn’t in his daily rotation and Emma wears a white dress with silver beads sewn into it that she found while walking to the café two days before. It’s simple, intimate, and if Emma is honest with herself, not much changes other than her last name.

Emma likes it that way.

She likes her life.

She loves her husband.

“One round of drinks on the house,” Killian exclaims in the speakeasy that night as a band plays loudly in the background. “But only the one. I’m not made of gold.”

There’s a chorus of cheers around them, and Killian nods to the bartender before wrapping his arm around her waist and pressing his lips to her check, stubble scratching against her skin.

“Well, aren’t you generous?” Emma teases. “What’s the occasion?”

“Married the bloody love of my life today.”

“She sounds wonderful.”

“Aye,” he winks. “The best.” Killian pulls her closer and moves his lips over hers in a dirty kiss. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Most intelligent too.” He kisses her again, then moves to her jaw. “Witty and wild and fierce.”

“Wild?” Emma sighs, tilting her neck back to give him more access.

“You wouldn’t believe the things she gets up to. I hear she had the bollocks to become friendly with gangsters.”

“Who would ever do that?”

“She would.”

Emma laughs and presses her fingers against Killian’s chest, tugging on his jacket sleeves to pull him even closer. “You have a private office here, right?”

He arches his brows. “Aye.”

“You might consider taking me to it.”

“Mrs. Jones, you need only ask.”

She and Killian walk through the crowd of people, stopping to say hello to everyone along the way, before they move past a wall of beads hanging from the ceiling and several doors that lead them to Killian’s back office. It’s filled with files for the speakeasy and from the café, his legitimate and illegitimate businesses combining in one place, and Emma shakes her head when she sees it all. How has he managed to pull this off?

How have they?

The door clicks behind her, several bolts shifting as it locks, and the heat of Killian catches up on her as he moves behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, breathing her in and slowly swaying her. Emma sighs back into him and tilts her head to look at him.

She could get lost in his eyes, and she would willingly throw away the maps.

“Do you remember the song,” Killian begins, “the one you sang in the pub?”

“The one that made you kiss me for the first time?”

“Aye. That would be the one.”

“Of course I remember.”

“Would you mind singing it again?”

Emma laughs and twists around in his arms. She wraps her arms around his neck and continues to sway. “Well, if you insist.”

“I do.”

Emma sighs and rolls her shoulders back, all of the sounds of the outside fading away as she focuses on Killian and the way that he is gently swaying her, their steps only matching up with each other instead of those outside the room.

“In a neat little town they called Belfast, apprentice to trade I was bound. And many an hour's sweet happiness have I spent in that neat little town. A sad misfortune came over me, which caused me to stray from the land. Far away from my friends and relations, betrayed by the black velvet band.”

Killian closes his eyes in the middle of the verse, but his lips tick up in a smile. There’s a flash of white teeth, and Emma leans her head against his shoulder, resting her cheek in a place of comfort, and sings in his ear.

“Her eyes they shone like diamonds. I thought her the queen of the land. And her hair, it hung over her shoulder, tied up with a black velvet band. I took a stroll down Broadway, meaning not long for to stay when who should I meet but this pretty fair maid come a-traipsing along the highway. She was both fair and handsome. Her neck, it was just like a swan. And her hair, it hung over her shoulder tied up with a black velvet band.”

“Do you know how this song ends?” Killian asks.

“She betrays him.”

“I think it’s rather fitting for you and I, but the lyrics would have to change for us.”

“That can be arranged.”

Killian laughs into their kiss, and Emma can feel joy spreading over her body as she melts into it. He is not perfect. Neither is she. They will never be two people who have a white picket fence and no stains on their hearts, but if Emma is honest, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

All she needs is to be happy, and she is.

There’s a sudden bang outside the room, and Emma pulls back from Killian’s lips. His hands tighten on her back, and they still as another bullet is released from a gun.

“Bloody hell.”

“What’s happening?” Emma whispers as Killian moves away from Emma and toward the door, pressing his ear against the wood.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck. The coppers are here, and I don’t think it’s the ones who enjoy our drinks.”

Emma feels her stomach drop.

“What do we do?”

“We stay here,” Killian says, slow, measured. “Help me move the desk against the door.”

“They’ll hear it scraping.”

“Not if we lift it. There’s too much commotion outside for them to come here first.”

Emma nods and helps Killian move the desk. It’s a heavy oak, and she struggles to keep it from falling to the ground. They get it, along with several filing cabinets, and Emma’s heart pounds as the commotion outside keeps happening. There are several exits for this exact reason, for people to run away if someone snitches on the place, and Emma hopes most everyone is able to leave and run to safety.

She knows that she and Killian are not going to be so lucky. They’ll only have so much time before they’re arrested.

Emma turns to see Killian with a crowbar, and he pulls back a plank of wood siding on the wall. “What are you doing?”

“There’s a tunnel through here,” he explains. “I had it installed when Dave put me in charge of construction on the place.”

“Oh my God, are the Nolans going to be charged for this?”

“No.” Killian shakes his head. “I changed the paperwork. Even though this is connected to them, no one will ever know. And if someone finds out, Mary Margaret’s father has enough power to aid them. Come help me. We’ll only have so much time to get out of here.”

Emma nods and walks toward him, helping to pull away boards until there’s a big enough gap for them to move through. Killian gets down on his knees and goes first, and Emma follows behind him, only a little light available to guide them. Her hands and knees are covered in dirt, and with each passing minute, they become more scraped and bloodied. It stings, but it’s nothing she can’t handle.

Emma doesn’t know how much time passes or how far they travel, but eventually, they come to a stop and Killian kicks against another panel. The sounds of the city come through, pouring rain joining it, and when Killian climbs out first, she can see streetlights. He helps her out, apologizing for making a mess of her dress, and Emma doesn’t have to look down at it to know that it is no longer white and that some of the beads are lost.

“Where are we?”

“A few blocks over. C’mon, love. We have to go.”

They walk through the rain, puddles gathering at their feet and water soaking through their hair and their clothes. Killian attempts to shield her with his jacket, but it does no good. She is already a drowned rat, and she might as well accept it. They can’t go back, can’t see what’s happening in the place they’ve put so much of their heart into, so they go home.

Nothing about it feels right.

“Aren’t they going to come looking for you here?”

“I’m Mr. Jones to everyone there. No one knows my first name. No one knows anything about us. We should be safe for now, but I’ll have business to attend to. We may need to leave for awhile, possibly return to England to keep me from ending up behind bars.”

Emma stills then slips off her heels. “What will we do with everything here?”

“Save it for us to return. We can make a home in whatever place we desire. The options are there for us, sweetheart.”

Emma reaches up and squeezes the water out of her hair as Killian undoes some more buttons on his shirt, his hair dark with water on his chest. “What about Gold? You remember what Liam said? He’s looking for you, Killian. He’s looking for us.”

“I am not scared of that crocodile of a man,” Killian seethes. “He is a coward who has others do his work for him.”

“Are you not a coward, Mr. Jones? Running away with your mistress to America and then running back to England when your threads are pulled?”

Gooseflesh rises on every inch of Emma’s skin, and ice runs down her veins. She knows that voice. It haunts her nightmares and her waking hours, and she thought she’d washed the grime from him away. She thought he was gone, that she was safe.

And yet he’s here, in her home, emerging from a dark corner. The silver of his gun appears as lightning flashes outside and thunder joins with it, shaking their home to its bones of wood and brick.

“Killian,” Emma whispers. Her hands are shaking, and she wants to vomit. Her legs are heavy, unmovable, and she watches in horror as Killian’s eyes widen. For the first time, she sees fear there.

“What do you want, Gold?” Killian turns away from her to face Gold, and his shoulders straighten. The tension is obvious through his soaked white shirt, each muscle defined despite the lack of light.

“I want you dead, of course. I’ve come all this way to finish you off for all that you’ve done to me.”

“I did nothing to you.”

“You had my wife.”

“Your wife left you, and you murdered her.” Killian’s voice is even, but she knows he’s raging inside. They don’t talk about Milah often, only on nights when Killian is near drunk and a little melancholy, but Emma knows Killian loved her and she loved him. “That happened years ago. An entire war has been fought since then. You’ve had plenty of opportunity to kill me. You could have shot me while I was walking down the street at any time. I half expected it every time I left my home. What are you getting from this?”

“Getting to see you suffer, of course.” Gold steps closer, his face becoming more illuminated, and though it has only half a year since Emma last saw him, he looks years older. “It was so pleasurable the last time, but you didn’t get your due then. No, no, that comes now.”

All those times Killian suspected that Gold let Killian live because he wanted Killian to suffer from uncertainty were right. That’s exactly what the bastard was doing, but the time of waiting has run out.

Killian’s hand flicks behind him, and she knows he’s trying to subtly reach for his gun. Emma regrets not having any weapons on her. She didn’t think she’d need any today. She didn’t expect this to happen.

Any of it.

The raid of the speakeasy and Gold showing up in their home are connected, and while Emma wants to know how he found them and why he waited until a day that was supposed to be about them celebrating their marriage, she knows none of that matters when he might kill them both.

“It’s so nice to see that the two of you have patched things up,” Gold giggles, maniacal. “I assume this means you know you’ll not be with a blushing virgin tonight, Jones. What a shame for you to have to deal with on your wedding day. Broken goods.”

“Keep your mouth shut about her,” Killian hisses, his hand flinching right over his holster. “This has nothing to do with her.”

Gold clicks his tongue. “That’s where you’re mistaken. It has everything to do with her. You took my wife. Now I think it’s time I took yours. It’ll be so much more satisfying than it was the last time.”

The glass shattering behind her comes to Emma’s attention before she realizes that shots have been fired. She doesn’t know who shot first, where any of the bullets landed, or if Killian is okay. The power has gone out in their home, the rain and the thunder have picked up outside, coating the world in darkness like she has never seen before, and when the lightning comes, she sees flashes of limbs moving. It’s not enough to know where anyone is or what’s happened, and Emma is pulled down to the ground as another bullet soars by her, crashing into a mirror. Emma covers her head and drops fully to the floor, careful not to cut herself on any of the glass.

She should run.

She’s been doing it for her entire life, but she can’t do it now.

She can’t leave Killian behind.

Grunts, groans, and curses mix in with the roar or the thunder and the pounding of the rain, and she sees more flashes of movement, hears more shouting. Killian lets out a loud hiss of pain, and Emma moves closer to where the noise is coming from, trying to find him.

She can’t find him, and her heart starts to pound.

One beat, two beat, three beats too fast until her cheeks are heated and her chest aches in pain.

Killian is still making noise, so he can’t be dead.

He can’t be, he can’t be, he can’t be.

She cannot lose him.

“Emma,” he groans, and she turns. He’s in the corner of the sitting area, his knee clutched to his chest, and there are visible red stains on his fingers and his shirt. “Emma, love, you have to go.”

“I’m not leaving you here.” She moves quickly in an attempt to get to him, to heal whatever has been hurt, but then she’s being yanked back and can feel the barrel of a gun pressing into her temple.

It’s not the first time it’s happened, but she has a sinking feeling it will be the last.

“You should have listened to him, dearie,” Gold whispers in her ear, and that old familiar shiver at the sound of his voice comes back. “Better yet, you should have listened to me and not run away with a dirty gangster.”

“How is that any worse than having to work for a dirty politician?” Emma spits.

“Because with me, you don’t end up dead.”

Not dead but certainly not alive.

Emma hears him cock the gun. She feels him twitch behind her. It’s not enough and too much all at once, and Emma’s hand flexes, blood running across her palm and she takes the shard of glass she’s holding and jams it into Gold’s bad leg. It’s enough for him to fall back in pain, for him to lose his footing and stumble to the ground, and before Emma has a chance to do anything else, a bullet hits Gold.

One that will keep him from ever getting back up.

“Emma, darling,” Killian pants, dropping his gun to the floor. “Emma I need you to come wrap my leg, and I fucking need you to get me my rum. This bastard fucking hurts.”

If she wasn’t too busy crying, Emma would laugh at Killian’s words. Right now, all she wants to do is collapse to the ground, but she can’t. She has to help Killian, so she moves to the kitchen, stumbling over furniture and hoping her bare feet don’t get cut up with glass, and she finds Killian’s rum and some wraps before returning to him. She can’t see, but she thinks there’s a bullet in his thigh, and she already knows he won’t allow her to take her to the hospital for this.

“Are you okay, love?” he asks as he takes a large gulp of rum.

Emma laughs at the ridiculousness of his question. “I’m not the one who got shot.”

“But you could have.”

She yanks on the cloth and starts wrapping it around his leg. She won’t be able to do anything more than stopping the bleeding right now. “I didn’t.”

“I should have been more careful, love. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get so soft.”

“Killian Jones, never in a million years could that happen to you.” He manages a lopsided smile, but from the way he grits his teeth afterward, she knows it’s taking more effort than he would admit to hide his pain. “Some wedding night, huh?” Emma jokes as she tightens the wrap. If she had been a nurse in the War, she imagines she would have been sent home almost immediately for her shoddy skills.

Killian laughs, this time genuine, and Emma leans forward to press her forehead to his and press her hand over his heart, thankful to feel it beating right along with hers. She can feel his smile pressing into her mouth, and she never wants to lose that feeling. “We’ll get there, my love.”

And they do.

In the morning light and with the help of one of Killian’s bartenders who was actually a nurse in the War, Emma gets Killian back to functional. He struggles walking for awhile and is stubborn enough to act like nothing hurts, but Emma knows him better than that. They know their time in New York is limited with everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, so after packing a few bags and Killian having his men here clean up the mess with instructions to return the house to livable condition as soon as possible, they make themselves look presentable for a few last goodbyes.

Emma buys Mary Margaret baby gifts, and Killian buys a pram to put it all in, his way of thanking them for everything they did that neither Killian nor Emma deserve. They don’t see them, instead leaving a note and promising to come back to visit when the baby is born, and Killian leaves a separate message for David about their work. It’s not the cleanest break, but there’s no way they could allow the Nolans to see them with all of their scrapes and bruises.

It would only break their hearts.

Soon after that, they’re at the harbor, Killian is buying them two tickets back home, and Emma can do nothing more than stare at the ocean, the one that she is ready to cross again when she spent so many months hating it.

Once again, it is her safe haven.

Though, she may have found another one, a man whose eyes mirror the ocean and consume her all the same.

Killian grunts as he sits down on the bench beside her. She takes his hand in hers and squeezes, wishing she could take some of the pain away. It won’t last forever, and soon, his scars will be another mark on his body, another story to be told. If Killian tells the story, she imagines he will embellish every detail. The thought makes her smile even as the cuts on her own two hands sting when they are hit with the mist of the salt water.

“I don’t want to run away again,” Emma admits. “I know we’ll never be traditional, but I’d like to stay in one place and be surrounded by our family. I think it’s time you took back your rightful place as the head of the Jones Corporation in Birmingham. For good.”

“As long as I have you by my side.”

“Always.”

-/-

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#black velvet #black velvet part two #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

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reddrobins · 4 years

Text

of coffee cups + criminals - three [j.todd]

TW: language

ONE - TWO

Chapter three

Waking up whilst tied to a chair was not on [Y/N]’s to-do list.

Groggily, she tried to look around the dimly lit space - though found it nearly impossible to open up her eyes. The front of her face felt hot and sore, a temporary reminder of the punch she had endured.

Pushing through the searing pain, she opened her swollen eyes to the best of her ability. From what [Y/N] could make out, it was a large room - the ceiling nearly impossible to see. The space around her seemed to be crowded. Multiple different crates littered the area, some open - their covers tossed among the floor, others stacked atop each other.

Based on the minimal sight of her surroundings, [Y/N]’s best guess at her location was a warehouse. Though, that didn't really help her narrow down exact places as Gotham was full of warehouses.

Assuming that the Black Mask was smart enough to operate in secrecy, she knew that the warehouse wouldn't be one near Gotham Square. No, it must have been near the outskirts of town, maybe even close to Blüdhaven.

“...my end of the deal.”

A voice sounded from the far right of the room, [Y/N]’s head snapping towards the sound. It was just light enough to make out a few figures, one animatedly talking.

“I told you, I always keep my word.”

[Y/N] could easily tell who the baritone belonged to. Hell, it was the last thing she had heard, right before that fucker punched her in the face. Sionis grew closer, his conversation now clearer to her ears. Deciding it better to be found asleep, rather than face the criminal again, [Y/N] drooped her head, feigning a deep slumber.

“Not sure why you think she’s needed, didn't seem to know a lick about the Hood - but if this is all I gotta do to make sure he's taken care of… She's all yours.”

The small group was now mere feet in front of her, all the members oblivious to her eavesdropping. Risking it, she peaked open an eye in an attempt to count the pairs of feet.

One, Two, Three…

On the fourth pair, her breath caught in her throat.

She didn't believe it.

There was just no way.

And then in one quick sentence, Roman Sionis confirmed her fears.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. J.”

Seven hours, thirty-two minutes and 12 seconds since the last time he had heard from her.

Jason was officially starting to panic. After phoning, dare he say it, Batman, he had sent a signal to the rest of the family - putting his own hubris aside to get [Y/N] back safely. Though, that was over 6 hours ago.

Dick and Damian had gone to Blüdhaven, expanding the search effort outside of Gotham. Meanwhile, Tim had been instructed to remain in the cave and access each and every public camera in the city in hopes to catch a glimpse of [Y/N]. Steph stayed too, wanting to be on guard just in case Tim found something. Cass and Duke briefly went out on recon, but came back empty handed. The only two that were actively on the scene were Jason and Bruce. The distant father and son duo had spent the waking morning on the roofs of Gotham.

Currently, Batman stood with his back towards Jason - getting intel from Oracle through the cowl. It had been like this for a while now, Bruce would silently get filled in whilst leaving his son to wonder what Barbara had said. Jason had just about had enough, it was his search after all, no one would be involved if it weren't for him. They should be filling him in, not Bruce.

“You ever planning on filling me in, old man?” Jason finally spoke. He leaned against the rooftop ledge, angrily (and anxiously) drumming his gloved fingers against his leather coat.

Bruce grunted as a reply, acknowledging his son's question, but not bothering to turn around.

Jason, with years of practiced impatience, scoffed and tapped the side of his helmet, tuning into the comlink. “Oracle, do me a favour - quit talking to Bats and actually tell me what's going on.”

He almost cringed at the harshness in his tone. He had never had anything against Barbara, if anything he felt closer to her than anyone else in the family. Shared trauma tends to do that to a person. Nonetheless, the secrecy between her and Bruce was getting on his nerves. He knew the longer he was out of the loop, the longer it would take to find [Y/N] - and that was the opposite of what he wanted.

“...Red Hood, I don't know if that's the best course of action right now. I think letting Batman handle this would-” Jason was quick to rebuttal, the notion of letting Bruce handle anything set him off.

“I’m sorry Babs - But last I checked I asked him for help, not the other way.” The name drop, Jason will admit, was immature. Though the line was secure, he knew better than to expose identities. Sighing, Jason apologized, “... Sorry Oracle, that was on me. I just… I just need to find [Y/N].”

It wasn't often that Jason shared his true feelings with the Batfamily, thus this admission of truth was a pleasant surprise to Barbara. The older woman then spoke through her link, “It's fine Hood.” She then turned her words to Bruce. “I- I think he's right Batman. It is his case… He deserves to know everything.”

Maybe it was admiration for Barbara or maybe it was the swell of ‘I told you so’ to Bruce, but Jason, for the first time since [Y/N] had disappeared, felt hopeful.

Bruce finally turned around to face his son, who in turn titled his head in earnest. “Oracle,” The older man voiced, “shut off the coms.” A click resounded inside the two mens headsets, signaling the radio silence.

“Before I disclose the information, I need a promise.” Though he donned the cape and cowl, Jason knew that this was not the caped crusader asking for a promise, but his father. As civil as he could be, Jason nodded for him to continue. “I need you to promise me that you won't go running into wherever, that you won't let your emotions get the best of you.”

The former Robin wanted to scoff, but opted for rolling his eyes under his mask. Bruce was being ridiculous, “This isn't fucking Serejavo, alright?” He knew that he stuck a nerve, he could see a fraction of a flinch from his mentor. “I’m twenty-two, not fifteen - remember? Or do you have me confused with another one of your child soldiers?”

Uncomfortable silence ensued between the two, the seconds ticking by as Jason quietly wished for [Y/N] to be by his side, making this time spent with his adoptive father tolerable.

Bruce’s response was monotonous, practiced as to not show emotion, “That's enough. We’re on a life or death search, this isn't time for a pity party.”

‘Okay, Ouch.’ Thought Jason, ‘Thanks for rubbing salt in the wounds, really great work there B-man.’

Having had enough of this familial crap for the day (lifetime it felt like), Jason conceded, “Just get on with it.”

Heaving a sigh, Bruce took a small tablet out from under his cape. He handed it to Jason who quickly sifted through all of the information. It was chocked full of files, pictures, videos, fingerprints, fuck - blood samples. He perused more and more, going further into the database and then -

Jason thought his heart stopped, again.

He felt as though all the air had been pulled from his lungs.

File 104 out of 305: a single strand of acid green hair paired next to an unknown fingerprint.

“Nightwing found it while crashing a drug trade.” Bruce stated, tone calm and collected.

At that, Jason's brows furrowed, “That's not usually his M.O. Drug trades were never his thing.”

‘No,’ A sick voice hissed in Jason's head, ‘Brutally beating a child to death is though!’

Batman nodded, “Correct. He didn't conduct it. The Black Mask did.”

Roman Sionis, that fucking dweeb.

Jason had had a personal vendetta against him ever since his successful take over of the Gotham underground. In the past, he wouldn't have paid a second of attention to that idiot, but once Falcone dipped, the crooks of Gotham were his for the taking. Sionis seemed to think that just any ‘Roman’ could replace ‘The Roman’.

“What's this got to do with [Y/N]. I don't have time for an extra case, if you haven't realised, my girlfriend-”

Bruce was quick to interrupt before Jason continued one of his heated tangents, “We have reason to believe that he and Black Mask are working together.”

Jason stayed silent, for the first time actually wanting to hear what Bruce had to say. “That being said, rather, we believe Black Mask has hired…” The older Wayne looked at him head on, trying to gage his emotional response before he pressed on, “We think he has hired the Joker.”

It was involuntary, just an ingrained reaction for him to tense up at the mention of the Clown Prince of Crime. Maybe his constant thoughts of [Y/N] were clouding his detective skills, but he had yet to make a connection - or maybe he knew exactly where Bruce was going, but refused to even think of the implications.

“So what are you saying…”

The dark knight closed his eyes, composing himself before giving the final blow.

“I am saying, Black Mask has hired the Joker… to get rid of you.” Even with the mask on, Bruce could sense the indignance oozing from Jason, he held his hand up to silence him and continued, “You’ve been severely depleting the Black Masks profits - he’s losing grip of the crime world. He’s deemed you as the one thing stopping him from complete control, and he's desperate. So desperate that he's hired a maniac to do his bidding.”

Taking another deep breath, Bruce let the information he had been keeping in, spill out, coating Jason in its toxic bearings. “The Joker knows you, as much as I hate it - he knows you better than any other criminal out there. He knows how to get to you. He knows your weaknesses. He knows your strengths, and he knows your allies. Even Jason Todd’s allies.”

And just like that, the small ounce of hope that Jason had felt earlier, diminished to nothing.

He would have taken being blown up again than this.

“Where is he?” Was all that Jason could muster.

Bruce immediately shook his head, “No, Rob- Red Hood, I told you, you promised not to go in like-”

“Like last time?” Jason interjected.

Under the cowl, Bruce's face felt hot, unexpected embarrassment rising to his cheeks. “I didn't say that.” He grit out.

Jason finally let out the over do scoff, “But you meant it.” He then approached the larger man, leather gloved hand stretched out, “Now give me the fucking location.”

Though Jason was the closest to Bruce's build within the family, the older Wayne still had a height advantage on him. He stared down at his son, piercing eyes glaring at Jason to ‘stand down’.

Lifting a hand to press the comlink on, Jason spoke into the helmet mic, “Oracle, send me the Jokers coordinates.”

Before Bruce even got a chance to interrupt Barbara's channel, Jason had received the map, location locked in.

Jason backed away from the Bat, crossing over to the ledge once more, grappling gun at the ready.

“Jason!”

Annoyed, he turned around to catch a glimpse at his mentor, expecting to be yelled at or lectured. Surprisingly, Bruce gave him a tight lipped nod, then - “Be safe.”

Not bothering to acknowledge his fathers - what he assumed to be - half assed façade of care, he swung to the next building, ready to get his girl back.

Bruce knew that two words wouldn't make up for all the hurt he's put Jason through, but it was the most he could do at this moment. He was afraid, he was worried, he was everything a father would be when their child throws themself into danger. Letting out a sigh of built up frustration, he linked up to Babs.

“Keep an eye on him, if it gets out of his control - I’m going in.” Oracle gave a hum of recognition, tuning in her cameras to Jason's helmet.

“Keep him safe… please.”

#Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #batfamily #batman imagine #batman x reader #batfamily imagine #batman #red hood #red hood x reader #dc x reader #dc comics imagine #DC comics

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emberfrostlovesloki · 4 years

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#4 Reader X SickSpencer

Gif credit: @stunudo

Prompt: Reader X SickSpencer - Spencer catches a cold and doesn’t come into work on Monday morning. The reader goes to his apartment to check and see if he is doing alright.

Category: Fluff / Comfort

Content Warning: Language (maybe)

A/N: After watching the episode where Spencer gets tortured I had an infinite need to write something where he gets comforted by someone. This is pretty domestic and fluffy, but it’s what I needed right now. I want to thank @veraiconcos for helping me with the inspiration for this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it. Please like / reblog!

Link to all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_y/l/n_ = you’re last name

_h/c_ = hair color

_b/s_ = brother/ sister

_h/l_ = hair length

_f/c_ favorite color

_Y/n_ walked into the headquarters of the BAU with a pep in her step. She had spent most of the weekend hiking the paths of Ricketts Glenn State Park in Pennsylvania. She had taken the train up after she had clocked out of work and spent the rest of the weekend disconnecting from the world. She found the forested paths relaxing compared to her normal job she was bound to. She had asked if Morgan or Prentiss wanted to join her, but both of her teammates already had plans for the weekend. In total the woman had walked over fifty miles. At noon on Sunday _y/n_ sadly said goodbye to her campsite, and drove herself to the airport. She had arrive at the office before everyone on Monday morning. She hadn’t gotten any work done during her outdoor experience. Because of this she arrived at her desk early in order to make a dent in the pile of paperwork she had left behind on Friday. When she sat down at the white desk _y/n_ noticed that some of the files she was least looking forward to were nowhere to be found. She didn’t think too hard about it for the moment, and just grabbed another file instead. After an hour, the other members of the team started streaming into the bullpen. _Y/n_ noticed that at 8:00 A.M. Morgan, Prentiss, J.J., Hotch and Gideon were all present, except for Dr. Reid. Agent _y/l/n_ looked around the room once more just to make sure that the young man wasn’t actually there, and she was just missing him. Spencer had never been late to work before. He had actually picked her up multiple times when she had texted him in a panic that it was raining and the trains would run late, and she’d probably get fired for being two minutes late. She knew that her fears were unfounded, she also knew that Spencer knew her fear was stupid. None the less he would pull up to her apartment and swing the passenger side door open from the inside. Those had been good rides. When _y/n_ was very sure she had not missed Spencer she walked up to Morgan who was just now walking up to his desk. She leaned against his desk and asked, “Morning, do you know where Reid is? Also, I’m missing some files from my desk, any idea where they may be?” Derek smiled and said, “I can explain both questions sweetness.” _Y/n_ rolled her eye’s at Morgans flattery but still raised her eyebrows, non verbally telling him to continue. Morgan took a seat and continued, “Reid is sick, apparently he caught a cold. About your missing files, your boyfriend stayed late last Friday, last I saw of him he had taken about ten of your case files to his desk, and was filling them out himself.” Before _y/n_ had a chance to process that Derek had called Spencer her boyfriend she replied, “Oh my gosh, is he okay? When did he get sick?” Morgan smiled as she realized what term he had used for her friend. She grabbed one of his case files and started hitting him over the head with it. The athletic agent put his hands over his head and said, “Reid got sick on Saturday. He texted us on Sunday that he had a fever and Hotch told him to stay home.”

Before _y/n_ could ask more questions, J.J. entered the room and said, “We have a case, let’s head into the conference room to talk over the details.” When the team was assembled, Hotcher stood up and started explaining the case. “We’re looking for an unsub that has killed congressman Luke Allen. The murder took place in the senators office last night at 1:00 A.M. His body was found today by his aid, Gracie Suveua. There was no apparent forced entry. The senators most popular contributions on Capitol Hill have been his working and signing the bill regarding Obergefell vs. Hodges in 2015.” The team nodded and agent _y/l/n_ commented, “So we may be looking for a person that has problems with the implications of gay marriage in the Supreme Court: religious extremists, opposing party members or a person from another radical religions that oppose LGBTQ+ rights.” Gideon agreed and replied, “That’s a great start for a profile. Hotch and Derek, would you head over to the sight of the murder. J.J. would you give Penelope our main facts so far and get her to do a database search based off of those criteria. Prentiss, _y/n_ and I will head over to the police precinct to ask some questions and gather information from the force.” After a minute of gathering in their separate groups, the teams went their separate ways to begin the hard work of the new case. Prentiss and _y/n_ weren’t thrilled to be going to the prescient. The officers were mostly of a male demographic, and often ignored comments that both female agents had made before, and turned out to be true later. Nonetheless, the trio whisked away to the station. When they arrived, the Police chief heartily shook Jason’s hand, but chose not to shake Emily of _y/n’s_. The two agents looked at each other, shrugged and moved into the sleek building after Gideon. It wasn’t until 9: 30 P.M. that the team was back to the conference room debriefing the information that they had accrued during the course of the day. After the debrief was over Aaron said, “I think we will be better use to this case if we all get some sleep and pick this up tomorrow. I don’t think that we aren’t at risk of another victim being killed tonight. If we work hard there won’t be a second death to follow the first. Get some sleep and I’ll see you all tomorrow morning.” Each member of the team slowly got up, in their fatigue and moved out of the bright room and back toward their desks. When _y/n_ got to her desk she slumped down in her swivel chair. She pulled out her phone and looked at the message she had missed. She ignored a text from her mom and instantly scrolled down to the text that Spencer had sent her. The message read, “I’m still feeling pretty bad. I’m sorry that I can’t be useful in this case.” _y/n_ observed the text, and thought about how Spencer threw himself into his work 110% of the time and maybe it was batter that he had a break from work, even if he had to feel like shit to get to that place.

Before she could respond to the message that Reid had sent three hours ago Morgan approached _y/l/n_ and asked, “Do you need a ride home? Taking the train right now isn’t exactly safe.”_Y/n_ looked up to him and said, “I think I’ll go check on Reid first. Would you mind taking me to his apartment?” Morgan raised his eyebrows at the statement, and after a moment of silence said, “Sure thing.” The agents moved to the parking lot where Derek’s car sat ready to take off. _Y/n_ had sold her car when she had moved to D.C. to pay the deposit on her crappy apartment. She had always told herself that she would buy a new car when she had the money. Even though she had been working on the BAU unit for over a year she had never bought a car. She preferred the train anyway. When the agent got onto the car Morgan smoothly moved out of his spot and into the empty road. _Y/n_ pulled out her phone and texted Spencer back saying, “Sorry you’re still feeling bad. I am going to come over and see if you’re doing okay. Be there in about twenty minutes.” When she finished sending the text she put her phone in her pocket and looked out the front window at the empty road. After a minute Derek commented, “You really like him, don’t you?” The male agent had his big brother voice on when he asked the question. _Y/n_ pulled her hand through her _h/c_ before responding, “Derek you know how I feel about him. You don’t have to interrogate me. But it might be helpful if you didn’t call Spencer my boyfriend in front of him. You know how he gets when it comes to affection.” Morgan smiled. He knew that both agents had spent a good amount of time together outside of work. He thought that they made a good couple, but also that they hadn’t said anything about their feelings to each other yet. Morgan respected that they were moving slowly, that really was more their style anyway. Derek replied, “I get you. Plus, I wouldn’t want to jeopardize any chance you might have in letting him tell you that he likes you.” As he finished his statement the duo pulled into the front of Reid apartment building. She looked over to her friend and said, “You know nothing may happen. If it’s just platonic I’d get it. But I do love him.” Derek smiled at the fact that she had actually said the words out loud. He responded, “Go get him tiger.” She rolled her eyes and stepped out of the car. _Y/n_ leaned back in to say, “If I get anything it will probably be a cold from our resident genius,” before closing the door, waving and walking into the apartment.

When she was in the apartment she took a moment to enjoy the sleek interior of the building. She was always jealous of the coffee shop that the contained. She had to walk three blocks to get to a coffee shop from her apartment. Secretly she was grateful for this fact, because if her apartment had a cafe she knew she would spend all her money there. She was brought back to the moment when the elevator dinged and opened. The agent waited for the occupants of the elevator to get out, and she stepped in once it was empty. She pressed the cool round metal button that read ‘5.’ The moving contraption stopped twice for other residents to get in the metal box before _y/n_ got out on floor five. When she was outside Spencer’s door she realized that she had never checked her messages before just showing up at his room. She pulled out her cellular device, and saw that he had not responded. _Y/l/n_ thought, ‘Maybe he’s asleep? Or maybe he’s feeling really bad and didn’t want me to come?’ The agent panicked for a moment, considering that Spencer might be too ill to respond. After a moment she calmed down and knocked on the door. It took a minute before she heard light shuffling outside the door. She could barely hear her friend say, “Who is it?” _Y/n_ rolled hey eyes at the question; all he had to do was look out his peep hole. After quietly laughing she said, “It’s _y/n_. Can I come in?” The door opened slightly and _y/n_ could see a small sliver of Dr. Reid. She tried to ascertain his sickness level from the shade of his face. Spencer stood for a minute calculating how risky it would be for him to let her in. He said in a raspy voice, “I might get you sick. You know that 3% of American’s have a 64% chance of getting a cold during the year.” _Y/n_ smiled and replied, “I’m happy you’re still coherent enough to give me statistics Spence, and if I’m going to get a cold I’d rather it be from you, and not some random person on the street. I’m just here to make sure you don’t stay sick for longer than necessary.” Reid reconsidered the odds. How old _y/n_ was, how active she was and her general health. After he finished his assessment the young man opened the door and allowed his friend in.

When she was in the apartment the female agent set her backpack by the front of the door. Spencer had stepped back in an attempt to lower the rate of transmission. While he was doing this _y/n_ looked him over. He was paler than usual, and his cheeks were flushed red. His hair was limply hanging around his cheeks that were more sunken in than usual. Even in his comfortable looking Yale sweatshirt and grey shorts, the man looked miserable. _Y/n_ looked at him sympathetically and said, “Maybe you should take a seat?” Reid replied, “Do I really look that bad?” She shrugged her shoulders and sighed, but didn’t tell him verbally that he looked like a kid who had fallen into a swimming pool in his clothes by accident. She walked over to the coach and Spencer followed her. He sunk down into the dark fabric of the couch leaning his head against the back. She pulled a chair up while he was seated and asked, “Can I feel your forehead?” When the words were out of her mouth _y/n_ realized how strange it sounded, but Spencer didn’t seem to think it was weird - maybe because he was slightly delirious - or he just knew to expect strange expressions that he didn’t understand come out form her lips. So he replied, “Okay.” _Y/n_ stood up from her chair and knelt on the couch next to Spencer and lifted her hand. She placed it on his forehead. His skin was hot. For the moment that _y/n’s_ hand was on his head Spencer enjoyed it. The cool sensation of her hand was relaxing. He wished it stayed there for a moment longer. The genius realized that the concept was completely illogical because the heat of his fevered body would simply begin transferring to her hand. It only took a second for _y/n_ to realize that Spencer was still running a high temperature, and even though she didn’t need to, she slipped her hand under his chin to check the temperature there too. She assumed she did this because her mom had done it when she was a kid. She pulled her hand away again for the second time and got up. Spencer leaned his head back to look at _y/n_ as his friend moved toward his bathroom. He heard the tap turn on, and after a few seconds, she returned to his side with a small hand towel. She was holding her hand under it so that it didn’t drip water on his wooden floors. “When did you last check your temperature, and how high was it?” _Y/n_ inquired as she placed the damp towel on his hot forehead. Spencer breathed a sigh of relief at the coolness of the cloth. He then responded, “I checked it two hours ago. I think it was around 100.72 degrees. She nodded at the reply and then asked, “Have you eaten yet today?” The young genius was notorious for completely forgetting that he needed to nourish his slender body on a regular basis. So she could only imagine that while he was sick, food was the last thing on his mind. He gave the response she expected of, “No. I’ve felt kind of nauseous all day, I didn’t think eating was going to help with that.” _Y/n_ rolled her eyes and said, “Have you ever considered that not eating could make you nauseous too?” The young woman got up and went into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and only found a carton of eggs and a few containers of leftovers. She turned to Spencer and asked, “Why don’t you have any food Reid?” Spencer gave a cough before defended himself by saying, “I normally go grocery shopping on Sunday, but I was sick, so I didn’t go.” _Y/l/n_ understood and said, “Okay. Well I’m going to run down to the corner store and make you some dinner. Do you have a favorite comfort food?” Spencer stood and took a few steps toward her and said, “You really don’t have to. I can take care of myself.” _Y/n_ replied, “I know you can Spence. I just want to be here to show you you don’t have to all the time. Especially when you’re sick.’ Reid bit his lip as he usually did when he was thinking. After a moment he strode to his counter and grabbed the keys to his apartment, and car, and tossed them at _y/n_. She quickly shifted left and grabbed the object being flung at her. Spencer said, “I really like grilled cheese sandwiches.” She smiled and said, “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Before walking out of his living room and into the hall. She locked the door behind her and moved toward the elevator.

The corner store was limited in it’s selections. But all that really mattered was that _y/n_ had a loaf of white bread, some American cheese, a kind of pathetic looking can of tomato soup, and some orange juice. With these items in her basket the girl moved to the counter and paid for the groceries with cash from her wallet. It wasn’t until she was at the counter paying that she noticed the time. The Digital clock that was displayed behind the cashier glowed in red letters 10:25 P.M. She knew that if she went back to Spencer and made dinner she was going to miss the last train. To the woman it was just a small thought that quickly came and went. She wasn’t going to leave her friend right now. If he was uncomfortable with her staying at his place overnight _y/n_ would get a taxi back to her apartment. Spencer heard the key slide in the door and knew that _y/n_ had returned. He was currently lying down on the couch and didn’t really move that much as she set down a bag on his counter. There was a moment where some glass clinked together, and a second later she was in front of him with a glass of ice water and a glass of orange juice for him. She set them down on the table next to the couch and he said, “Thanks. I’m feeling a little better now.” _Y/n_ smiled and said, “Good, if you want a distraction while I’m making the food you can look over the new case. We’ve been working on it all day and haven’t gotten very far. The files in my bag.” Spencer jolted at the chance of doing something other than feeling miserable, and he got up and found the file in _y/n’s_ backpack. As he walked back toward the couch he noticed that _y/n_ had bought herself a coffee from the shop in the lobby. She shared his taste for sugar filled beverages. Unlike him, she preferred milk in her caffeinated drinks. Spencer grabbed the warm polystyrene cup and took a sip of it while she was digging in his fridge for some butter. Spencer often stole _y/n’s_ snacks or drinks. It was the type of thing that would make her angry for a second and then she would laugh it off for five more. He would always buy her a replacement item, often he would make it a bigger cup of coffee or bar of chocolate than the one she had before. Spencer knew that the young agent was trying to save up money so she could fly down to her _b/s’s_ college graduation in a month. It was the least he could do. After all living in D.C. could be hard on the bank account.

It wasn’t until the soup was on the stove heating up, and the grilled cheese sandwiches were in the pan getting melty that _y/n_ started looking around for her coffee cup. After a minute of futile searching she spotted it in Spencer’s hand. She smirked, moving to the back of the couch, she pretended to look over Reid’s shoulder at the information he was examining. When the man removed the cup from his lips and lowered it toward his leg she grabbed it out of his grasp and said, “Really Reid. This is how you repay me for my help.” Halfway through the sentence and she was already laughing at his antics. She glided to a position in front of him and started bringing the drink to her own mouth when she remembered Spencer was sick. She examined the lid of the cup, and obviously some of his saliva was on the rim of the cup. Reid looked up at her and said, “Sorry I also haven’t had any coffee yet today either.” _Y/n_ sighed and handed him back the cup replying, “You know, I fear that if you asked me to murder someone I would consider it.” Spence smiled up at her. After another five minutes or so the pair were eating a very late dinner at the kitchen table. They were talking about the details of the case. As soon as they had finished eating Spencer asked, “Are you planning on going back to your apartment tonight? The train stopped running a half hour ago.” A blush rose to _y/n’s_ cheeks and replied, “Well. I was wondering if I could just stay here tonight? I need to look through the details of the case again, and do some research. I’ll be quiet.” It wasn’t a super odd request. The pair had stayed up all night before working on cases or having movie marathons, but they had never been at one of their apartments when one, or both of them was going to be sleeping. Spencer looked over to her and said, “Of course you can. I can help you with the research if you want.” _Y/n_ smiled and said, “Thanks for letting me stay. And offering the help, but I think you should get some rest. You aren’t going to get better without sleep.” She smiled at him and began picking up the dishes from their dinner. Spencer helped her put them in the sink and said, “I promise next time it’s my turn to cook. I’ll finish the dishes if you want to take a shower before I turn in.” _Y/n_ considered that she had been in the same clothes for over ten hours and knew that a shower would relax her she said, “that would be great.” She was embarrassed to ask it, but managed to stutter out, “Do you think I could borrow one of your shirts to wear while I work. These aren’t the most comfortable clothes.” Spencer opened his mouth for a moment at the idea and tried to clear his head of the image of her in one of his shirts. The man snapped his mouth shut and his jawline tightened before he responded, “Um, yeah. In my closet on the left hand side are all my t-shirts and sweaters. You can wear any of them.” She said, “Okay. I’ll just be a bit.” She rubbed her hand over his shoulder as she walked in the direction of his bedroom. After a minute Spencer could hear the water running.

The lean agent scrubbed down the dishes and put them in the drainer next to the sink. When he finished with the plates and bowls, he sat back down on the couch with the intention of looking at the case again. His thoughts didn’t allow him to. Instead he was considering how he was feeling. He wondered if it was alright to want these kinds of evenings to happen more often. He knew that he wasn’t that good with women. His few attempts to woe the friends and strangers he had been interesting in had usually gone horribly wrong. Yet, unbelievably a friend had come to check up on him, and was comfortable enough to spend the night at his place. He couldn’t figure out if he had done anything differently with _y/n_ than his other friends. He also was unsure if she felt the same way he did. Maybe she was uncomfortable being here and just needed to stay out of convenience. While Reid was considering the current situation _y/n_ was doing the same. She was running shampoo through her _h/l_ hair and musing over what had happened over the last two hours. She had always wanted, hoped, to get closer to Spencer, but she was afraid that if she moved too fast that he wouldn’t be interested, or worse not want to hang around her at all. She and Spencer did share some of the same hobbies but she hoped that she knew him better than that. She knew how he shied away from physical affection, and how he always seemed so happy when she or Jason told him he had done a good job, and how she knew what his shampoo was going to smell like before she even opened the bottle. She really hoped that her presence, both literally and metaphorically wasn’t making him uncomfortable now. When she was finished with her reverie _y/n_ rinsed out her hair and stepped out of the shower, After another ten minutes Spencer looked up to see _y/n_ in another one of his YALE sweatshirt. It was so long on her shorter body that it covered her like an ill fitting dress. However, Spencer thought she could wear a potato sack and pull it off. He quickly looked away from her to hide his blush.

The duo looked over the cases and _y/n_ hooked up to his WiFi on her computer. After this was finished and _y/n_ had bought herself another coffee (using Reid’s card), she recommended he go to bed. It was already 12:00 A.M. at this point. Spencer relented and headed to his bedroom. Before he went in he said, “Goodnight. If you’ve got any questions you can ask. Just knock on the door.” She smiled and said goodnight back, and told him to sleep well. The agent continued her work for another three hours before she moved to the couch to try and get more comfortable to do her work. The next morning Spencer found _y/n_ laying down on the couch she was clutching a pillow to her chest and had her left leg draped over the blanket she had covered her body with. Spencer dared not walk past her torso in case she was indecent below the leg she had over the blanket. He was feeling much better today, and wished that he could go into work with her, however, it was company policy to wait a full twenty-four hours after a fever to return to work. Spencer knew it was for the safety of his coworkers, but he hated being away from his job. The man knelt down and tapped _y/n_ on the shoulder. She sighed slightly before opening her eyes to see him. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. Spencer quickly averted her eyes as she rose. She looked down at herself and realized that her _f/c_ boy shorts were peeking out from beneath Spencer’s YALE sweater. Her face turned red and she coughed, stood up and pulled the sweater down. She looked at her phone and quietly cursed, “Fuck, I’m going to be late.” Spencer knew that if _y/n_ was fast, and hurried she could catch the train and make it in time. He said, “Go change. If you’re fast you can make the 7:30 A.M. train.” _Y/n_ nodded and grabbed her clothes and ran into his bedroom. She shut the door and didn’t even bother to lock it as she stripped and quickly changed. Reid, who had woken up about thirty minutes before her, and had grabbed some coffee for her and himself. He had meant to wake her up once he had woken up, but he couldn’t disturb her when he had seen her so peaceful. When the woman came out of his room in her usual black pants and satin shirt, she looked ready to fight the crime in the city as she usually did. She put on her shoes and grabbed her things, stuffing them into her backpack. Spencer cleared his throat after she was finished and handed her the coffee. She smiled at him and said, “Thank you so much Spencer, for letting me stay, and the coffee.” Spencer smiled and hesitantly asked, “Would you come back again tonight? In case I need help again. Or feel bad?” It took a moment for the words to register and _y/n_ said “Huh?” And maybe it was because it was from lack of sleep, or her just being awake for five minutes, but the meaning of the words struck her after she had responded. She realized that Spencer wanted, that he really wanted to spend another night like they had had yesterday. She smiled up at him and replied, “Of course I’ll come back tonight Spence. I’d love that.” The word love was not lost on the genius, and he took a minute trying to and express his feeling, saying, “You know I really like you. I mean I appreciate you, or I feel things about you…” _Y/n_ wanted really really badly to hear the words come from him, but she knew that she didn’t have a moment to lose or she would be late. She hated cutting him off, but reluctantly said, “I know Spencer, me too.”

At hearing this Spencer gave a heartwarming smile and leaned down to hug her. She quickly gave him a kiss on the forehead and cheek. She then let go of him, and ran out the door, shouting over her shoulder, “I’ll see you tonight!”

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thicctails · 3 years

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Summer of Whump Day 9 [Bugs/Animals]

Hunter coughed, his mind spastically trying to understand his situation. He tasted dirt and blood in his mouth, and he spat the disgusting mix onto the ground. Wiping his mouth, he pushed himself up off the ground, looking around. Smoldering, broken trees surrounded him, bits of still hot wreckage scattered around the clearing.

What had…

Their mission! They’d been freeing a captured diplomat, something had gone wrong and the alarm had been tripped, and they’d been escaping on a stolen ship. They’d almost made it, but then they’d been hit by something. He remembered fire, yelling, an alarm blaring in his ear, then… nothing. They must have crashed. But if that was the case, where was everyone else?

Getting to his feet, Hunter began to call out into the quiet forest.

“Tech! Echo! Wrecker!” His voice was loud in the still air, but he heard no response.

Frowning, he began to look around the crash site. There wasn’t much, just burning metal and already burnt plant life. He searched for footprints, but found none. What he did find was far from comforting.

There was a large gash in the side of the ship, and he could tell it hadn’t been caused by the crash. Puncture marks covered the sides of the gash, like something big had been pressing into the metal. He ran a hand over the indents, trying to figure out what had made them.

Scrrrrich!

The sound of something being dragged over wood had him whipping around, just in time to see a rush of black charging towards him.

Omega stared outside, her feet just centimeters away from the ship’s exit. Her bow sat heavily on her arm, the familiar weight of the weapon bringing her a small semblance of comfort as she thought about what to do. Hunter had been very clear when he had told her to stay inside, but that had been a whole day ago. It was sunrise now, and she had still gotten a response from anyone. Part of her wanted to believe that they were just busy, but they had always checked in on her before…

“Honk?”

She looked down, watching as Pillow walked up beside her.

“Oh Pillow,” She said, reaching down to pick him up, “they still aren’t back yet. I want to go look for them, but I also don’t want to disappoint Hunter.”

Pillow looked towards the rising sun, and Omega got the feeling that he was thinking about something. He looked back towards her, and jerked his head to the side, as if to say “let’s go find them”.

“But Hunter said not to.” Omega argued.

Pillow wiggled free, flopping down onto the ground and skittering away before Omega could grab him. He rushed down the ramp, heading straight for the forest. Mentally apologizing to Hunter, Omega ran down after him.

“Pillow, wait!”

Omega carefully picked her way over fallen branches and trampled vines. Pillow marched on ahead of her, his nostrils flaring as he followed some unknown scent. He exuded feelings of determination, caution, and confusion, although she wasn’t sure why. Whatever he smelled, it was making him nervous, and her very glad she had brought her bow.

Pillow paused, sniffing at something in front of him that she couldn’t quite see. Walking closer, she saw that it was a shape in the dirt. It was V shaped, two little dashes sticking out a couple of centimeters in front of the tips. An animal track, one unlike she’d ever seen or heard of. Hunter had been teaching her how to track, so she knelt down and looked for signs that would tell her how old it was. The track seemed to be fairly fresh, as the sides hadn’t been worn down yet.

“Do you think we should follow them?” She asked, turning to look at Pillow. The amphibian bobbed his head.

“Okay, if you say so. I just hope whatever we find isn’t hungry.” Omega muttered.

If Pillow wanted to keep following the tracks despite them making him nervous, than there must be a good reason. Perhaps whatever had made these tracks had something to do with Hunter and the others not coming back?

She hoped not, as the tracks had been rather big.

The tracks led Pillow and Omega to the mouth of a dark cave. The two looked at each other, before Omega gulped and stepped forward, drawing back her bow’s string for light. Pillow pattered after her, his pupils expanding to take in more light. Their steps echoed in the maw-like space, the only source of light being the purple glow of her trusty weapon.

As the duo made their way deeper into the cave, small luminous mushrooms began to appear. They glowed a soft cyan colour, but Omega did not relinquish her hold on the bow’s thrumming string. The warning buzz was back, muted, but definitely still there. She had to be careful.

Suddenly, Pillow honked and dashed forward, and Omega quickly followed after. Something caught her foot, causing her to release her bow’s string and fall onto the floor. The weapon slid away from her, becoming lost to the darkness. With only the glowing fungi for light, she looked to see what she had tripped on.

A scream escaped her lips as her eyes fell on a white, stripped bone. She kicked the bone away, panting as it clattered against the floor. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that she was surrounded by skeletons.

“Honk!”

She spun, gasping when she saw Pillow nudging something. A familiar something.

“Hunter!” She yelled, rushing over to the downed man. Hunter’s skin was pale, and he was sweating. He looked like he was asleep, but his face was contorted, like he was in the midst of having a terrible nightmare.

Tech, Echo, Wrecker, and someone she doesn’t recognize were there as well, all in similar states. She shook them all, trying to rouse them to no avail.

“Okay, I guess I’m dragging you all out. Pillow, you might have to help me.” She said, grabbing Tech under the arms.

Sssscccrrrapee!

Omega froze, the buzzing at the back of her mind becoming a screech. A sudden urge to move to the right had her rolling on the ground. Something shot out of the darkness, smashing into the ground where she had just been. Pillow screeched as a shriek echoes out into the cave, nearly deafening Omega. Her foot brushes something metal, and she grabs it, her fingers curling around the handle of her bow. The energy snaps into existence as she draws the string back, firing off a shot into the dark.

A silhouette appears, long and skinny. Four eyes shine in the passing light, and she hears the creature let out a long hiss. The animal before her is huge, its frill brushing the cave’s ceiling. Its body is a gradient of colours, black into teal into blue into orange and then finally into red. Spots of black and white pepper its serpentine form, and she catches a glimpse of its arched, pointed tail.

She follows her instinct and leaps back, hearing her opponents teeth clack together as it bites down on the air in front of her. It eyes her, the glow of the mushrooms just barely giving both her and it enough light to see by. A black, forked tongue slides out of the animal’s mouth, the flickering appendage nearly brushing her nose. She hears a sound like armor scraping against stone, and the creature swings its tail around. The tip is sharp and black, an unknown liquid dripping from it. Omega moves back as far as she’s able to, her heart threatening to explode out of her chest as she hits a wall. The animal is poised to strike, but before it can move another step, a blur of snarling white barrels out of the shadows.

Pillow bites down on the animal’s leg, just below its knee. It shrieks again, this time in pain. It spasms, its tail whipping about wildly. The creature goes into a fit of panic, thrashing around as it tries to make Pillow release his iron hold. Snapping out of her fear-induced paralysis, Omega fires her bow again, striking the creature in the face. It screams, frothing saliva dripping out of its mouth as it flails. Bones scatter as the animal falls onto its back, it’s legs kicking weakly, before finally ceasing all movement.

Shocked, Omega carefully shuffles forward. Pillow has let go of the animal’s leg now, and as she can see that the skin around the bite has turned a sick white-ish purple. Her lip curls and disgust, and she feels her stomach flip when she sees that Pillow is currently biting at the animal’s stomach, bits of skin and flesh tearing away as he pulls his neck back.

“Pillow, what are you doing?” She exclaims, actually having to cover her mouth as a gush of blood squirts out, splashing onto Pillow’s head. The amphibian looks at her, seemingly happy with the current situation he’s in.

More than a little disturbed, Omega makes her way over to the rest of the Bad Batch. Tech seems to be coming around a bit, whatever had been ailing him seemingly leaving his system. There is a small hole on his neck, and she figures that the animal must have stung him.

The sound of ripping flesh makes her feel nauseous, and she sits down beside Tech and covers her ears, praying that everyone would wake up soon. She hopes that Pillow doesn’t make a habit out of this…

#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #star wars #omega bad batch #hunter bad batch #tech bad batch #wrecker bad batch #echo bad batch #uh oh #pillow wants more than bugs it seems...#summerofwhump #summerofwhump[9]#minor gore #tw animal death

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guigz1-coldwar · 3 years

Text

'It's gonna hurt' : an new chapter for "The woman with an strange name" is out !

Chapter Summary : Bell put an impression by beating an member of Adler's gang in front of everyone in the saloon and aiming very fast to another one but her presence for everyone is still mysterious......

To read it on AO3, click here !

Taglist : @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart (If anyone want to be added, feel free to tell me, same thing for my main fic "Redemption of an Spirit in an Cold War')

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It was quite an move that Bell did in that saloon : in front of everybody and even Russell Adler himself who were attending the party, she managed to break the nose of an gang member named Finn and threatened at gunpoint another one in an quick succession without any fears inside of her even if she knew that every person in Adler's payroll in that saloon was aiming at her, awaiting for her to make an bad move but somehow, Adler ordered everyone to stand down and Bell did.

That thought was staying in her mind when she stepped out of the building, not looking behind her as she was walking to get back to her room at the hotel and she wasn't disturbed that now, she was really the center of attention around Redemption : she made an stand against the 'leaders' here but she wasn't going to brag herself for what she did, she did what was right for her. If any of Adler's outlaws were ready to retribuate, she was ready to face it without any problems.

When she closed the room of her door behind her, all sounds of the outside were like cut off for her, meaning the end of that long day she has lived : travelling from the East in the morning, arriving in an strange town in the afternoon and almost killing someone in the saloon in the night, it was enough for her. Slowly, she could remove an part of her clothes she's been wearing and really, she was exhausted. She only kept her shirt on and her underwears on her before going to sleep, this was the perfect outfit for her to sleep.

It was her first night in Redemption and in her head, she was mostly trying to not think of the past as she's been reliving it for an large part of her nights before but there were something new in her mind and that little thing was taking an place in her thoughts. She couldn't know why but she was starting to think about Miss Park, that little something....she was remembering her face, the moment when she turned around to look at her and inside, she was troubled by that. Why I'm thinking of her ? She thought to herself during the night.

That feeling was very strange inside of her and she still had it when she opened her eyes in the morning, finishing her night in here. She slowly got up from her bed and took something to eat inside the satchel she put on the nightstand, along with her holstlers and then, she start to dress herself, looking herself in the mirror to make sure that everything was in order and that she wasn't forgetting anything on her clothes until.....

"Miss Bell !" Someone knocked at the door of her room almost loudly, getting her attention and also nearly putting a jumpscare because of the knocks. "Miss Bell, are you here ?" It was the voice of an man, repeating her name.

"Who is this ?" She asked as she was finished to dress up, her hands on her revolver as she wasn't able to recognize the voice, muffled by the door...was it someone of Adler's gang ?....

"It's the sheriff Azoulay." The person replied, making Bell relieved for an few seconds as it was just the sheriff and that she opened her door to see him standing but that relieving didn't last long when he saw his worried face.

"Sheriff, what is it ?" She demanded, curious.

"I heard that yesterday night, you had broke the nose of Finn & had in gunpoint Ike." He revealed to her and she nodded, taking full responsability of the event by that nodding.

"Yeah, I know that everyone is now curiously looking at me." She expressed, leaning herself against the door frame of her room, still wondering why the sheriff was still looking like that. "What's the problem ?" She questioned him.

"Seems that Finn retaliated against you." He responded, looking away at the stairs direction.

"What did he do ?" She asked him, worried before she moved to get next to the window and by her horror, she could discover that her horse, her Butterfly wasn't at the sheriff office anymore. "Where's my horse, sheriff ?" She continued, holding the curtains in her hands.

"She's at the stable, miss Bell." He answered, staying at the door as Bell was coming back to him, very nervous about the safety of her horse.

"My horse is at the stable...." She whispered, looking down at her feets.

"I brought her to the doctor after she threw up." He told her as Bell looked at him back in the eyes.

"Let's go see my horse, lead the way." Bell ordered as the tone of her voice was very threatening and Azoulay complied.

He opened the way to her, walking away from her room as she locked her door behind her before following the sheriff downstairs and then, outside the hotel. She was clenching her fists along the way, angried about thinking of the state of her horse. Her horse was never sick like that in many months and it's not surely the climate of Arizona doing that. She was keeping her cool as she was still continuing to follow the sheriff quickly before the duo arrived at the stable where the doctor, Lawrence Sims were awaiting them.

"Laz'" Sims started, offering his hand to shake with the sheriff and the two shook hands. "Thanks for having brought her horse." He thanked him before he turned around to face her....miss Bell.

"It was the thing to do, Sims." Azoulay explained before he gestured to Sims at Bell. "She is miss Bell." He presented her as Bell was offering her hand to the doctor.

"It's an pleasure, miss." Sims greeted, moving his hand to shake with Bell's one as the sheriff was looking inside the stable to find her horse in sight.

"Me too, sir." She said in an low voice with an little grin on her face as the two withdraw their respectives hands.

"Please, you can call me Sims by the way." Sims smiled at her before he turned around to walk back inside the stable, the sheriff and her following up close to join her horse and discovering her, laid down on the ground, looking sick.

"My god, Butterfly, what do you have ?" Bell whispered, worried about her horse as Sims moved to get inside the box her 'Butterfly' was.

"I put her here for the moment." Sims explained, kneeling to check Butterfly's head. "Was it something that happened since the last times before you came here, miss Bell ?" He asked her, peaking his head to look at her.

"No, she was never sick like that." Bell replied, pointing at her horse as she wanted to get near her horse to recomfort her an little before she could do it, moving to kneel near Sims and putting her hand on Butterfly's head

"Yeah, by looking at her, seems that she ate something that wasn't for her." Sims claimed, taking an closer look to the horse before getting up to look at Azoulay. "You said that Finn was seen near her horse minutes before she fell sick." He exclaimed, his hands on his waist.

"Exactly, it was one of the prostitutes, miss Maxis who came here to tell me of what happened last night before she told me that she saw Finn near her horse." The sheriff told him in an clear voice as Bell was stroking slowly Butterfly's head before her attention was brought to the sheriff's words.

"He must have poisoned her but with something that isn't too lethal." Sims proclaimed, leaning himself against one of the box wall. "I already gave things to heal your horse but it will not be immediate." He added, looking at Bell who got up to join the duo.

"Meaning that I will have to stay here for an while ?" She suggested and the two nodded to her sadly even if she wasn't thinking the same way as them.

"I'm afraid so." Sims chuckled, crossing his arms to her as she left the box to go back next to the sheriff. "For the moment, you will have to install yourself here until your horse get back well." He stated as he closed the door of the box behind Bell.

"I'm going to have an talk with her, we're leaving you to work, Sims." Azoulay said, looking at him with an grin.

"That's work for me, Laz'" He expressed, waving at the sheriff. "Don't worry, miss Bell ! I will heal your horse." He promised her and she waved at him back as the duo left the stable to let Sims work on healing her horse.

The duo returned to the last spot they talk before Bell go inside the saloon last night : the porch of the sheriff office's where Azoulay returned back into sitting on his usual chair as Bell was leaning herself against the same pole she used to, looking at the spot she left 'Butterfly', now empty and she was mixed between sadness and anger inside of her as she was keeping her cool outside.

"It's something that Adler's gang is doing to those who make troubles to them ?" She asked the sheriff, looking back at him with great curiosity.

"No, that's an first." He responded as it was the first time he was facing his situation in his career as sheriff. "They either beat the guy up before he's not making any troubles anymore but here, that's different." He added.

"I was awaiting for them but they came to my horse instead." She muttered, passing her hands throught her face, her eyes looking now at the saloon. "Finn...that's the guy I broke the nose."

"Yes, miss Maxis said that you put your hands behind his neck and make him met the bar's counter with his face." He scoffed, sounding an bit joking as he was surprised to hear that story and now for him, that woman that was near him was very special from the others strangers he met. "Then, you hold at gunpoint the other guy named Ike with your revolver." He continued, making an little cough.

"He was literally scared as hell with my revolver between the eyes." She claimed, having an bit of an smile on her left part of her lips.

"There's also something that Maxis told me." Azoulay expressed, causing her full attention to get on him. "She said that she heard Adler after the party that no retribution was to be done against you." He revealed to her.

"And why that ?" She raised an eyebrow to him, thinking that an vengeance for humiliating some of his guys were needed.

"I don't know." He raised his shoulders to her as he put his arms on the chair armrests, looking at the saloon. "With that, it's also means that Finn didn't follow his orders and acted on his own."

"Where is he by the way ?" She asked him, curious, removing herself from the pole she was leaned against.

"He's in the saloon with some of his friends." He replied, having an part of his thoughts thinking that he shouldn't tell her that, not wanting to get her harmed. "And as it seems, there's also Miss Park in here, so watch out !" He adviced her again, knowing deeply that she was going to get to the saloon.

"I know what I'm doing, sheriff." She exclaimed to him, seeing his face that was already telling her to not go inside that saloon without any words. "I'll leave you then, I will come back later." She added before making an sign with her hat, reciprocal for the sheriff.

She didn't know what was going to happen inside that saloon after what occured last night but for her, it was better to get in, maybe take an drink and if she could find that Finn, either having an serious talk with him or if he isn't willing to do so, having an brutal talk with the man, knowing the dangers of that last option but with the last events, was it something that was going to stop of doing that last option for real.

When she entered the saloon, she could see that it wasn't like yesterday : there were only an very few people inside at some tables and nothing else except with the presence of Miss Park on the same couch as last night. It was one of the main things that Bell saw when she got her feets inside the saloon and she couldn't resist to look at her, remembering the little flashs of her face in her head and she was smiling at her, even making an sign with her hat.

"Miss." Bell spoke up in direction of Miss Park with an smile and on her face, she couldn't know if she was able to smile to an stranger like that until someone opened an door that were marked 'Private members only' on the window part of it.....it was Finn himself, his friends looking at him leaving throught the window part of the door.

"You, get up !" He ordered harshly to Miss Park, pointing at the stairs and she was forced to comply, leaving her couch to join the stairs. "I thought I was clear about what you can & can't see in this town." He started, fully closing the doors behind him, adressing to Bell who were stopped near the bar counter. "She's belonging to mister Adler." He affirmed, starting to move slowly around Bell.

"I came to see you." Bell admitted, looking at his broken nose. "You managed to heal your nose, it seems." She scoffed with an normal voice, watching Finn walking around her.

"And you, what about your horse ?" He attacked back with an little laugh, stopping himself just in front of the swinging doors of the saloon.

"I thought you could maybe help me with healing my horse." She thought as everyone in the saloon was getting nervous about the situation right now as it was just him & her facing each other with no one to stop them. Miss Park wasn't fully up, stopping herself in her moves on the last stairs before reaching the first floor.

"You would have to kill me first !" Finn exclaimed, showing her the revolver on his holstler near his shoulder above his vest.

"I'll hurt if I do, you know ?" Bell told him as she decided to remove the dusty coat she was wearing....making everyone discover that she wasn't only armed with an simple revolver at her belt. She was having 2 others holstlers hidden by her coat and in them, there were two pistols....not revolvers, two semi-automatics pistols, two Modele 1899....two hidden assets that were the lastest pieces of technologies in this year of 1899....8 bullets in each mag....

Finn wasn't scared and knowing that no one was going to stop him, he tried to grab his revolver from his holstler but unfortunately for him, Bell was incredibly fast enough to grab her two Modele 1899 in her two hands before she pulled the triggers of both guns, sending bullets to fly towards Finn that was just starting to aim at her. Every bullets that she shot hit their target, causing Finn to almost fly away out of the saloon with 4 bullets fired from each gun.

But with 8 bullets remaining in the two mags combined, Bell turned around to face the room that Finn come out and start blazing it with the remaining bullets in its direction, breaking the window but here, she wasn't having in mind to kill his friends, it was just an big warning that she was sending them. She emptied her mags until the clicks of both guns were heard, causing her to lower her guns, watching Finn's body outside the saloon and his still alive friends, going back up inside the room that was shattered by her bullets.

"You tell Mister Adler, if he had hired smarter guys than him, none of this wouldn't have happened." She adviced the men that was still inside that private room as she put her pistols back on theirs holstlers, not forgetting to put some new mags inside before looking at the bartender. "This is for the damage I caused." She handed on the bar counter some money for the broken window before she start to walk out of the saloon but she stopped herself to look at Miss Park who were having her eyes on her.....

"Ma'am, it's been an pleasure."

#cod bocw #cod cold war #cod black ops cold war #cod cw #call of duty cold war #cod bell #fem!bell #helen park #western au #cod fic

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