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7-wonders · 3 days

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Requiem

Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter XVI)

Summary: It's all led to this, and now, you have to face off against Michael to get your world back.

Word Count: 6.3k

A note from the author: This chapter is so, so dark. Sorry? Also, this chapter relies a lot on the she/her pronouns this story was first started with btw. (more notes at the end)

I noticed when posting this that it looks like the previous chapter didn't load a lot of tags. If you got tagged in this and are like "wait how did we get to the fight already?" you missed the last chapter! Click on the Mad Love Masterlist to read Chapter 35. :)

Content warnings for this chapter include graphic depictions of injury and death. Reader discretion is advised.

Mad Love Masterlist

Mallory warned you prior to leaving your room that the residents of Outpost 3 were all dead, murdered at the hands of Ms. Venable and her poisoned apples (you try not to dwell on your own poisoned apple experience). All the preparation in the world doesn’t prepare you for the shock of seeing two dead bodies, those of Coco and Dinah, in the large foyer of the Outpost. Shock turns to revulsion as one of Mallory’s friends and other witches yanks a knife out of Coco’s skull with little more than a wince. When she stands, she points the knife at you.

“She gonna help us?” she asks warily.

“She is.” Mallory turns to you, pointing first to the woman with the knife and next to another woman standing near the stairs. “This is Queenie and Zoe.”

You wave sheepishly. “It’s nice to meet you two.”

Zoe smiles kindly, but Queenie just appraises you with a look that says she doesn’t trust you. You can’t say that you blame her, though you wish she didn’t have a reason for this reaction. Mallory leaves your side to kneel in between the two dead women, and you watch as she takes a deep breath and breathes out onto Coco’s face before repeating her movements with Dinah.

It takes mere seconds for the two to shoot up, gasping for air and trying to get used to once again inhabiting a body.

“Welcome back,” Mallory says.

“What just happened?” Coco asks, her elaborate hairdo impressively staying put after all of that.

“You died. And now, you’re no longer dead.”

“Oh.” She frowns, rubbing at the spot where a knife sat moments ago. “Fuck, that sucked.”

“Are you going to explain why you tore us from our afterlives?” Dinah snaps, standing up.

“It’s time to fix this entire mess. To defeat Michael, we need all the help we can get.” Mallory eyes Dinah specifically. “From both of you.”

“You’re on your own with that shit,” Dinah declares. “I’m not here to defeat anyone.”

Maybe it’s not your place, but you feel like you can help to convince Dinah. You take a step toward here. “Please, I really think that—”

“How can any of you defeat me, when I’ve already won?” A voice, so familiar to you that it could be your own, comes from the stairs.

You almost don’t want to look at him. If you don’t, maybe you can remain in this stasis where you’re simply preparing to undo the apocalypse, instead of being faced with the reality that you’re about to fight your own husband, the man who, despite all of the horrors he’s committed, remains your love. When you do tear your eyes away from Dinah, you see that he’s not even taking notice of your presence. No, he only has hate-filled eyes for the Supreme.

Michael’s changed into a blood-red jacket, which makes it obvious that he was expecting this showdown to happen. Ms. Mead stands off to his left side, ever the small, imposing bodyguard. Mallory steps forward, along with most of the group. You can’t bring your feet to move, so you remain back with Dinah.

“You haven’t won,” Mallory says.

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed the state of the world.”

Queenie scoffs. “At least the world can be saved. Unlike your bitch ass.”

Michael smirks proudly. “The seventh seal has been broken. Wormwood has fallen from the sky and turned the rivers to blood and fire. The bottomless pit has been opened and my swarms of locusts and scorpions have ravaged humanity. The world has been remade in my father’s image.”

When he speaks like this, of biblical imagery and prophecy, he turns into a person you don’t care to know. He turns into the Antichrist.

“Almost.” Mallory smiles. “Pretty sure he didn’t imagine a world where there were still witches, so you failed there.”

Michael finally takes in the full group, and his haughty demeanor falters when he sees you. Softly, he utters your name. “What are you doing?”

You swallow thickly, willing your voice not to shake. “I think you know.”

“I do. You’re going to betray me?

Mallory tries to grab your arm as you move in front of her, but you can’t be stopped now. “This is not betrayal. I’m doing this because I love you, and I can’t bear to be faced with the monster that you’ve become any longer. Now, we have a chance to save the world, Michael. Help me undo this mess.”

“Michael,” Mallory gets his attention once more. “Your father never commanded you to end the world in this way. Jeff and Mutt, the two that ran Kineros, were the ones who thought a nuclear apocalypse was the solution. They controlled Ms. Mead and gave her the commands to tell you that this was Satan’s plan. Satan was just happy to take credit when he realized that you were going to cause anarchy.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Michael says.

“Is it? They told me so themselves, when I went to Kineros to ensure that Coco would be in this Outpost.”

He rolls his eyes. “This is such an obvious lie, I’m a little offended that you would think I’d fall for it. Right, Ms. Mead?”

Michael looks to his left, expecting to be backed up, only to see Ms. Mead with a look of bewildered shame on her face.

“Ms. Mead?”

“They—I do as I’m programmed,” she stutters.

You gasp at the revelation. Satan didn’t come up with the plan to end the world like this? All of this could have been avoided?

Instead of being faced with the same reckoning, a look of absolute murder appears on his face. “I’m going to do what I should have done that day in the Murder House and kill you all personally.”

“Mallory,” Dinah calls, walking towards the Supreme. “You raised me from the dead so that you would have the power of voodoo on your side. But if you know anything about who I am, you know that the only choice I’d pick would be the winner.”

She comes to a stop just before the stairs, bowing her head respectfully. Michael raises a hand out to her, ready to welcome another acolyte. You throw Mallory a panicked look, but she’s barely holding back glee.

“You’re half-right, Dinah,” she admits.

“She needed the help of a powerful voodoo queen,” a deep Southern voice says. You turn and watch as a tall woman with long braids struts up to Dinah. “But that ain’t you, sis .”

“The former Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau,” Mallory whispers into your ear.

“To release me from hell, Mallory promised Papa Legba the darkest and most corrupt voodoo queen’s soul for mine. You’ll serve him well in my place.”

“You’re a fool, Marie Laveau,” Dinah spits. “You would have done no different if you were queen.”

“No!” Marie says, before disappearing in a puff.

Not even a second later, she reappears behind Dinah wielding a machete. When Dinah turns to face her, Marie brings the machete down in one swing on her throat. Dinah gasps and screams as blood begins to gush out of her neck, falling to the floor and bleeding out in a matter of seconds. Nobody else seems to be affected by this, but you feel a little faint, and you hold onto Mallory’s arm to keep from collapsing.

“Out with the trash!” Marie declares. “Give Papa my regards.”

Michael, apparently having enough of this, nods to Ms. Mead. The android removes her hand to reveal a machine gun hidden underneath it. Though you want to say something along the lines of, “What the actual fuck?” Zoe says a word in what you assume to be Latin before you can.

Instead of shooting, Ms. Mead begins to shake and whir mechanically. Mallory uses Michael’s confusion to usher everybody back towards the open fire, where you watch as Ms. Mead explodes and sends Michael flying over the railing. He lands harshly on the floor below, staring in horror at Ms. Mead’s head next to him.

It’s only a matter of time until his horror turns to rage, and Queenie scrambles forward to grab Ms. Mead’s machine gun hand. When Michael rises, she rises with him, gun trained on his chest.

“Sorry about your little toy,” Queenie says before placing her finger on the trigger.

Michael turns to be met with a firestorm of bullets, more than enough to kill even the Antichrist. You scream in horror at the sight, his blood spattering against the wall as he falls and comes to rest against it, very obviously dead.

“Michael!” You try to stand, wanting to save him even though he probably (definitely) deserves what’s just happened to him. Before you can, Mallory pulls you to her.

“This won’t keep him down,” she assures you. “He’s too powerful to be truly killed. But this will buy us time.”

Though you don’t know if you believe her, you need to in order to keep from emotionally collapsing, so you nod.

Queenie walks to Michael’s body, kicking his foot as she checks to make sure he’s dead…for now, at least. “Do we need his hair or something for this? Because I’m more than happy to rip off a chunk of it.”

“No. The spell only requires that we have something personal of his.” Mallory smiles at you. “And we have the most important person in his life here with us. As long as you’re still in?”

You force yourself to look away from Michael, closing your eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths to recenter yourself. Finally, you look at her again. “Of course, I’m still in.”

“Good. Have you picked a time that will work to stop him?”

“I think so,” you confirm. After some internal deliberation, you think that the best way to get through to him is going to be when you had the big fight about the poisoned apple, before you stormed out and got yourself kidnapped by the witches. He wasn’t too powerful or too far gone with his father’s plan yet, but you were both in love with each other—albeit, you hadn’t actually realized it at that point.

“Alright. I’ll need you to focus on that, okay? Then I’ll say the spell, and we’ll be able to go back in time. We just need somewhere safe to cast the spell, somewhere with a large tub we can fill with water.”

You definitely found a room like that when you were exploring the Outpost your first couple of days here. “Okay. Follow me.”

Everybody stands, but hesitates when they remember the issue of Michael. If he’s going to come back to life like Mallory says, shouldn’t there be some safety measure in place to buy you more time?

Queenie sighs and rolls her eyes, realizing that she should probably be that safety measure. “Go,” she urges, readjusting her grip on the gun to ensure she’ll be quick to the trigger when Michael rises again.

Mallory darts forward to hug her quickly. “Thank you.”

“Enough with the sappy shit.” Even as she says that, you can see the affection in her eyes when she looks at Mallory. “Go!”

You do as she says and hurry up the stairs. Before you turn the corner, you allow yourself a moment to meet Michael’s open, lifeless gaze.

The hallways are much less of a maze than they were when you first arrived here, but the layout is still unfamiliar to you. After leading your group down what you thought was going to lead to the door you were sure contained the room with the tub, you’re met with a dead end.

Sheepishly, you look over your shoulder at Coco. “I think I’m a little lost. Isn’t there a room with a really large washtub for laundry around here?”

Her eyes light up, and she lightly pushes you to keep you moving. “Yes! We’re super close.” It’s going to take a bit to get used to her actually being helpful, you think as you follow her directions. “We’re going to go down this hallway here. Now, the weird little junction up ahead? Take a left and then it’s the third door on the right.”

Now you know where you are. “Thank you! I found it my first time going through the Outpost, but I haven’t lived here for eighteen months like you.”

You’re just about to turn left at the junction when a man appears from the other side of the hallway, jabbing a knife into your abdomen before you can even be surprised at the sight. You cry out, the pain sharp and sudden as he pulls the knife out of you with nothing but malice on his face. When he looks up at you, his scowl is replaced by a horrified shock.

“Oh my god, I thought you were—” He sees Coco, standing just behind you. “She was supposed to be you !”

Your shaking hands try to press down on the wound, but blood rushes out through your fingers, and your knees go weak as you crash into the wall. Down the hall, you can hear Mallory scream your name. She runs for you with Zoe hot on her heels.

“What the fuck did you do?” Mallory yells to the man, landing next to you on the floor and gently pulling your hands away so that she can assess the damage. By the way her lips start to tremble, you assume it’s not good.

The man that stabbed you ignores her, instead focusing on Coco. “You ruin everything!” he yells at her, lifting the knife once more.

Coco pushes him over the railing before he can do any more damage. He screams the whole way down, and Coco peers after him. “Sorry?” she calls with a grimace, no love apparently lost.

“This is…a lot of blood,” you note, watching your black dress becoming even darker from the rapidly expanding bloodstain. You’re also in a lot of pain. Fuck, you didn’t think being stabbed would hurt so much.

“It’s okay! It’s alright!” Mallory soothes; you can’t tell who she’s reassuring, herself or you. “I’m going to fix this. I’m going to—I’ll heal you, and then you’ll be fine.”

Your heart is pounding from a mixture of fear and adrenaline. For the first time since your arrival to this Outpost, you’re truly scared. This is a different fear from when you were worried about Emily and Timothy being executed, or when you realized that Michael wanted to have a child with you. It’s even different from the fear of knowing that you and Michael would be on opposing sides now. This is primal—this is terror.

Mallory’s hands hover over your abdomen as she begins to chant in Latin, eyes screwed shut in concentration. Nothing happens, and as the seconds tick by, your entire body starts to go cold. It’s like somebody’s taken a syringe of ice water and injected it right into your veins. You become more faint than before, and decide that laying flat will probably be the best way to rid yourself of this feeling.

“Why isn’t this working?” Mallory cries in frustration, catching your head and placing it in her lap. Tears begin to build in her eyes as she tries the same breathing technique on you as she did Coco and Dinah to bring them back to life, to no avail. You cough wetly, and when you wipe your mouth, your hand comes away red.

The realization hits you then: you’re dying. The overpowering cold, being unable to sit up anymore, the faintness—your body is beginning to shut down against your will.

“Mallory, I’m scared,” you admit.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise I’m trying.”

“I know.” You smile at the repetition even as you begin to feel so, so tired. Maybe if you close your eyes and rest for a moment, you’ll be able to get enough strength back to help you fight to stay alive.

Your eyes barely close before Mallory starts shaking you. “No, no, please don’t close your eyes!”

Marie Laveau appears at the far end of the hallway you first ran down and yells something to Mallory, but you can’t quite make out what she says over the rushing in your ears. Mallory takes one of your arms and Zoe takes the other, both working together to pull you down the hallway. You watch dizzily as Coco runs to Marie, your vision warping as the two disappear around the corner.

Mallory continues trying to heal you once they have you in the room where you’re meant to go back in time. Her hand, soaked in your blood, runs over your forehead comfortingly as she becomes more frantic in her chanting. Even Zoe tries to help, pressing down on your abdomen in the hopes of slowing the bleeding as she joins Mallory in spellwork. It’s becoming more difficult to hold on as you become weaker, the two taking turns making you open your eyes again.

“Please, please, please,” Mallory begs any and all forces beyond her power that might be listening.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, the effort to produce sounds near herculean.

“Don’t apologize,” she says sternly through tears, earning the smallest of laughs from you.

“Yes, ma’am.” Your hands shake as you feel around for Mallory’s, and you weakly squeeze when you find them. “I love you, Mal. I’m so happy I got to see you again.”

“Stop saying goodbye. I’m going to bring you back, this isn’t goodbye.”

For now, though, it is, and you both know it. When your eyes close this time, they don’t open again, and you feel yourself being dragged down, down, down, away from consciousness and life itself.

With your last remaining strength, you become introspective. You have so many regrets, so many words that you’re going to leave unsaid. You wish you had gotten the chance to actually complete the spell and go back in time, sure that you would have been able to change Michael’s mind. You want to thank Queenie and Zoe and Coco and Marie for their help, for believing that you can help fix the mess the world has become. You wish you could—

•••

Michael has had enough of witches on this Earth, he thinks as he blows Queenie’s head clean off her shoulders after coming back to life. She had been distracted by a body falling from two floors up—whose body it was remained a mystery that Michael didn’t care to solve—providing Michael the element of surprise. Even if she were still prepared, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’s too powerful for anything to stop him now.

Maybe he was naive to believe that a simple nuclear bomb or two could kill them. No, he was definitely naive. After all, Mallory knew that the world would be ending, and soon. That was more than enough time for her to gather her chosen forces and figure out a way to survive. He knows now that his path, the one that Satan had created before he had even created Michael, was always meant to lead to this. In order to truly inherit this new world and rule Hell on Earth, he must eradicate the remaining witches with his own hands.

But what to do with you? You’ve chosen your side for this battle, and it’s not his. He nervously hopes that you’re simply mad at him after how your last conversation devolved into a fight, that Mallory reached you at a vulnerable time and used that to her advantage to recruit you. Once he defeats the witches, you’ll come back to him and he’ll concede that he was perhaps wrong to bring up the idea of having a child at such an intimate moment. Still, seeing you standing in solidarity with the witches hurt, which is likely what the Supreme was planning.

When Michael makes it up the stairs, the reanimated voodoo queen blocks the hallway that he knows you and the witches have gone down. Grabbing a pouch off of her belt, she pours a powder into her hand and spreads it in a line in front of her with a chant.

“You shall not pass,” Marie declares with a smirk, wiping her hands of the powder. Michael juts his hand forward, prepared to rip her heart out of her chest, but an invisible barrier stops him. “You’re dealing with the HBIC now.”

He smiles ruefully. “Clever,” he admits. “Normally, that would work.”

He’s about to show that voodoo magic is no match for him anymore when his blood runs cold and his heart drops. At that same moment, he becomes aware of sobbing coming from far behind Marie. Though Michael’s never felt anything like this before, he can feel the certainty of what it means down to his very core: something’s happened. Specifically, something’s happened to you.

“Let me through,” he demands. Marie falters, taken aback at the fear in his eyes. “Marie Laveau, if you value your second chance at life you’ll let me through.”

She recovers from her hesitation with a haughty laugh. “Nice try.”

Michael makes quick work of her with a simple snap of his fingers, snapping her neck and sending her right back to the Underworld. He’s just about to clear the barrier and figure out just what is going on when he feels a presence behind him. Rolling his eyes, he turns around to face this distraction as well and comes face to face with Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt, who was with you when he was shot. Surely she must know something about what’s going on.

“What’s happened?” Michael asks. The knife that Coco was prepared to stab him with goes limp in her wrist, and she gapes at him. “Where’s Y/n?”

“She was…Brock…” She weakly mimes a stabbing motion.

“No.” He feels sick at the mere implication. “No!”

Coco now the least of his worries, he runs down the hallway, the whole time hoping that it’s a mistake, that Coco misinterpreted what she saw, that the cold emptiness now residing in his chest is simply a fluke. The sobs that become more clear as he nears the entryway, however, don’t do much to reassure him.

“Mallory!” Michael gasps.

The Supreme is on the floor with you in her lap, and for a moment, Michael can delude himself into thinking that you’re okay. The excessive amount of blood on the floor—your blood—and the unnaturally limp way that your hand is lying force him to face the obvious. Michael’s knees give out, and he falls to the floor harshly.

Mallory looks up at him, forgetting that they’re meant to be enemies right now. “She got stabbed, and—” a sob rips from her chest, “my healing spells aren’t working. And neither is Vitalum Vitalis. It should be working, Michael, I’m the fucking Supreme.”

“Okay. Um, let me…” Michael’s brain is fighting a war between shutting down from the agony of this situation and kicking into overdrive to figure out how to get you back. After a moment, he thinks he might have an idea. He tries to pull you out of Mallory’s arms and into his own, but she refuses to loosen her hold on you. “Mallory, I need to hold her.”

While he does need to be able to touch you for the spell, he’s not really asking for that purpose. He feels that he might soon lose his grasp on sanity if he can’t hold your body. No, he needs you as close to him as possible, to try and capture the warmth of your body so that he might remind himself that you’ve only just left, that he can still get you back. Begrudgingly, Mallory allows him to hold you, but she still keeps one of your hands in hers.

He’d like to say that it looks like you’re sleeping, comforting himself with the platitude most mourners claim upon seeing a body. He’d be lying, though, because he knows what you look like when you’re sleeping. The way that your face scrunches at the smallest sensation, how your eyes move under their lids and your mouth forms silent words when you’re dreaming particularly deeply, the intermittent light snoring that you swear you don’t do. If you were simply sleeping, he’d play the prince to your Sleeping Beauty and wake you with a kiss, revealing your amused smile and your fond gaze.

Now, there’s none of that. You’ve been dead for mere minutes, but already the signs of death are here. Your face is as slack as all of your muscles now are, making your cheekbones more prominent and your mouth hinge slightly open. A sallowness has started to take over your skin, and he finds himself tracing the apples of your cheeks in a futile attempt to coax blood back to the surface. He even swears that he can feel your body growing colder, just like he feared.

It takes Michael some time to remember what he’s meant to be doing. All of this grief and pain will hopefully be for nothing, so long as he can hold himself together for a little bit longer. He takes a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before dropping his forehead against yours. Tears are threatening to fall, and when he closes his eyes to try and hold them back, it only hastens their arrival. They roll, hot and thick, off of his face and onto yours, and he wipes them off with a silent apology.

Finally, Michael slips into a dissociation as he begins to walk between the realms of living and dead. He’s done this more than a few times now for varying reasons, becoming pretty adept at finding a soul and bringing it back to the living plane. The hardest part by far is always calming his mind enough to be able to attempt this in the first place; the fact that he’s been able to achieve it in this circumstance is a small miracle.

Now that he’s in the so-called in-between, he begins his search. Every single soul has a signature to it, so as long as he knows who he’s looking for, he usually finds the rest of this process to be pretty straightforward. Since your soul is so near and dear to him, he’s expecting this to take a couple of minutes at most.

A minute passes, then another, as he tries to track your soul down. Michael begins to grow concerned; considering you just died, he shouldn’t be having to search this hard. There’s a complete lack of you anywhere, and he begins to shake as he’s faced with the increasingly likely potential that your soul is gone. But how? Why? With a chilling clarity, he knows exactly what’s happened.

His father has become displeased. Whether he’s had enough of your and Michael’s collective disobedience over the years—Satan holds a grudge like no other, after all—or your declaration that you would never bear Michael’s child or be the perfect wife that Satan had planned for you to be. He’s had enough, and now, he’s taken this opportunity to make good on the threats he first warned Michael about during the poison apple saga. He’s made sure that you’re out of the picture for good. If Michael knows Satan, he’s probably already picked out some girl back at the Sanctuary to be wife number two, and this time, she would be the most devout, demure Satanist who would never even think of going against Satan’s will.

But Michael doesn’t want another wife. No, what he wants is to lay here on the floor and die right along with you, following you into whatever afterlife you’ve found yourself in in the hopes that he can continue to love you there. How can he ever be expected to love another person that’s not you? What kind of a life is there for him to live if you’re not here to share in it?

“Is everything okay?” Mallory asks, reminding him that there’s another person in this room, one who’s going to feel her own devastation at this news.

“I can’t find her. My father…” He chokes on his own words, unable to actually say the fate that’s befallen you. Instead, he can only cry.

Mallory picks up on the context clues, and her face drops. “So that’s it? She’s gone?”

The nod Michael gives her is the most painful movement of his life. When Mallory collapses, he also forgets the pretense of enemies and allows her to fall against him. It’s mainly for his own benefit—were he not using Mallory for support, he would be in a heap on top of you.

They remain without words for a while. Distantly, he’s aware of Zoe talking to Coco down that damned hall, the two wondering what to do now. He hopes that they come up with an answer, because he has no clue. In his opinion, there’s nowhere else to go from here. Though he may not have physically died, his life has ended along with yours in this room.

“Were you telling the truth?” Michael asks finally, making Mallory look up. “About Jeff and Mutt?”

He almost doesn’t want to know, but before he can change his mind, she nods. “All they cared about were themselves. They were fed up with minor inconveniences—having to wait for coffee, traffic woes—and wanted to ‘wipe the slate clean.’ They thought that they could reshape the world to how they wanted, and they used a vulnerable Antichrist to do so. Ms. Mead changed her tune from magic to fire and blood because Jeff and Mutt were feeding her the commands.”

He so badly wants her to be lying, but even if he couldn’t sense her truthfulness, he has his own memories to rely on. How suddenly Ms. Mead suggested that world destruction was preferred to world domination (and that the two cokehead idiots would be the guys to talk to about that) had always seemed a little odd to him, but he simply went along with it, believing Ms. Mead to still be his trusted advisor. This revelation simply makes Michael cry harder until he’s almost matching Mallory’s earlier sobs. She puts her free hand on his shoulder in comfort. Though he appreciates the gesture, nothing can bring him comfort.

All of this pain and death and destruction has been for naught. Michael spent years chasing his father’s approval and doing terrible things, things that made him so sick to think about that he forced himself to compartmentalize them in order to not drown in his shame. He’s shirked friends, love, and basic morals, only to find out that his father didn’t even care if the world ended this way. No, all Satan wanted was power and sin, which he got in spades these past eighteen months.

“How were you going to stop me?” he asks.

Mallory hesitates. “We…we were going to go back in time. There’s a spell that I found when searching through the coven’s grimoires to help with your Cordelia issue. I practiced it a few times before the bombs dropped, trying to figure out the right way to do it. Y/n was going to be both your personal tie and the one convincing you to stop the apocalypse. She had a time in place where she thought that you would be most willing to listen, to change your mind.”

It’s a smart plan, and it probably would have worked. After all, you likely know (knew, he’s reminded harshly) him better than he knows himself. As he thinks about the what-ifs, Michael realizes that this doesn’t have to be something that never happens.

“So, if you and I were to go back in time together, then we could change all of this?” Michael asks.

Mallory gapes at him. “You’re willing to give all this up?”

“What, this empty, decimated kingdom that I don’t even want?”

In the eighteen months since the apocalypse, Michael had found that he was not suited for being a ruler—he didn’t like the pomp and circumstance, nor did he like people fawning over him. Still, he pretended to be the cold, uncaring king of this “New World,” because he thought that was what Satan wanted, that he was fulfilling the destiny that he was born to.

Now, there’s nothing left to fight for. The world didn’t even need to be ended, let alone in this way. He’s been nothing but a pawn to people his whole life—the Satanists, the warlocks, the stupid fucks that ran Kineros, even Satan himself. He’s done. Done with this stupid, useless path he’s taken, done with hurting everything and everyone, and done with bowing to the whims of anybody.

After all, what has he got to show for any of this? He’s been a good little soldier, doing unspeakably horrific acts and acting like he wasn’t affected, like he wasn’t the Michael that he was before the apocalypse. How did Satan reward him? By ensuring that he would never get back the one person in his life that he has ever truly loved, and who had ever truly loved him.

“I can’t—I can’t live a life without Y/n. There is nothing without her. What do I need to do to help you?”

“Promise me,” she says. “Promise me that you will not use this second chance to end the world once again.”

“I just found out I ended the world for no reason, Mallory. A world that I was slowly coming to love, before Cordelia informed me that I needed to speed up the apocalypse plans I had been led to believe were created by my father. Before I was upset by people trying to convince me that blowing everything up was a bad idea.” Because of course, Satan would take credit for those plans if it meant that he would be closer to getting the complete chaos it would create. “Why would I try to end it again?”

Mallory searches his face for a moment before nodding. “I believe you.”

She’s known him for long enough now to know his tells, and she sees none of them. Right now, he’s too much of a wreck to even consider trying to lie, not that he was planning on it.

Mallory slowly stands, but not before kissing the back of your hand and laying it gently on your chest. “Come on.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispers to you, kissing your forehead. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m going to make this right.”

It takes strength he didn’t know he possessed to lay you down and let go of your body. Even as he walks away, going against every instinct and leaving you on the floor, he can’t take his eyes off of you.

Mallory climbs into the large washtub in the corner of the room, flicking her wrist and filling it with water. Michael follows her in, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of sitting in wet clothes.

“Think of a time that you believe it will be easiest to completely stop the apocalypse before it goes too far,” she instructs.

There are many times in the past two years that Michael can see as a good time to stop the apocalypse. First, he’s tempted to go back to the beginning of this mess, when the witches killed Ms. Mead. Plans for the end of the world hadn’t even been drawn up yet, and he would have the added benefit of having Ms. Mead back. Plus, you wouldn’t have gone through the trauma of being kidnapped and forced to be the Antichrist’s bride.

It’s incredibly selfish, but the more Michael thinks about that avenue, the less he wants to take it. While it’s unfortunate how you came to know each other, he wouldn’t trade the way that you and he fell in love with each other for anything. But on the practical side, he wouldn’t have the influence that he has over important people and organizations were he to go back that far, and he needs that if he’s going to have enough power to keep the world from ending altogether. That’s off the table, then.

He wishes that you had told Mallory of your idea before being fatally wounded, because he probably would have agreed with your assessment. If it was any time after you moved in with him, he was already so in love with you that he could easily be swayed. What makes the most sense?

Finally, Michael has it. The time where he can be most effective at changing the fate of the world and ensuring there will not be an apocalypse by his hand, can remain powerful enough to not be usurped as Antichrist (for he’s sure that Satan will be very displeased by the change of plans if he finds out about Michael changing fate), and can still have you.

He opens his eyes and nods. “I have it.”

“Okay,” Mallory says with a hopeful smile. “Focus on that as hard as you can, place us both there.”

It’s all he can think about now, but he does as she says and recreates that time in his head. The sights, the sounds, the smells. How your hand felt in his, and the brightness of your smile. The possibilities that, at that time, seemed endless. Mallory holds her hands out and Michael takes them, feeling their magic bouncing off of each other like sparks from two exposed wires.

“Balneum infinitum. Dona salui conductus.” Mallory repeats the chant two more times, the water bubbling around them furiously and turning darker with each word.

Michael knows even without Mallory’s instruction that he’s needed to say the last part of the spell, and what that last part is. Just before they submerge themselves under the water, their voices join together to cast the most important spell of their lives.

“Tempus Infinituum.”

•••

Endnotes: Wow. I thought this would be a particularly tough chapter to write, but as I got going, the story flowed easily. I think because I've had this scene stuck in my head for so long! My FBI agent is definitely concerned by how thoroughly I read those "what happens to a body after a person dies" articles.

ALSO the Jeff and Mutt thing is canon!

Anyways, I'm gonna go watch some cute animal videos to feel better. Take care of yourselves, alright?

@ajokeformur-ray @iamavailablesstuff @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @nsainmoonchild @redroses07

@xo-angel-ox @littleangel4996 @iamlivingforturner @thatonehumanbeing05

@codycrazy @love-on-the-murder-scene

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #american horror story #ahs imagine #american horror story imagine #michael langdon imagines #mad love musings

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togrowoldinv · 2 years

Text

Stolen Moments

Scarlett Johansson x Female Reader

You’re Scarlett’s bodyguard. She loves you. You love her. Love is never simple.

Note: This is based on this request. I hope y’all enjoy it!

Scarlett Johansson Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You lock eyes with the blonde across the room and she moves her drink from her left hand to her right. It’s your signal that she’s ready to leave and you make your way towards her.

“Ms. Johansson are you ready to leave?” You ask her quietly, so the other guests do not hear it.

“Yes, please,” she says with a soft smile. She says goodbye to the random people she’s been conversing with.

“Right this way,” you say before leading her away from the crowd.

People are calling after her and she starts walking faster. You feel her on your heels and you pick up your own pace.

You offer her your hand to help her into the car. She takes it easily and slides into the car. You get in after her and ask the driver to go.

“I hate those parties,” Scarlett says with a sigh.

“Me too. Those people suck,” you mumble. She laughs brilliantly as she takes off her heels.

“They do suck. At least you’re there with me to save me from them.”

She’s let down her movie star facade and become herself again. You love these moments after events when she’s so casual with you.

“I try my best. The code is working well,” you say.

“It’s perfect. You’re a genius for coming up with that,” Scarlett says.

“I wouldn’t say genius, but thank you.”

“I’d say genius.”

She looks content with herself as she leans up and asks the driver to go to her house. She smiles when he informs her that you’ve already told him the direction to go.

“Thank you,” Scarlett says. Her hand rests against your thigh softly.

“You’re welcome. I figured you’d want to get home to the kids instead of that stuffy hotel.”

“You’re the best,” Scarlett says. She knows the sacrifice you’re making to not take her back that hotel and be with her one more night. You smile at her and lean in just inches from her face.

“If you keep complimenting me like that, I might just fall in love with you,” you whisper to her, so that she’s the only one who hears it.

“Hm, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing would it?” She teases. Her lips are right by your ear and she drops a quick kiss to your cheek before creating a little distance between the two of you again.

Her hand stays on the seat between you and your pinky interlocks with hers.

The drive to Scarlett’s house is quicker than you’d hoped it would be. Her driver puts the car in park and gets out to wait for her to be ready.

It’s then that you turn to her and find her already closing the distance between your lips and hers. You kiss her back, pouring all of your love for her into your touch.

Your hands move over her backless dress as you feel her soft skin against you.

Scarlett pulls away breathless and you steal one more kiss.

“I love you,” you tell her.

“I love you too, baby. One of these days I’m going to invite you in. I promise,” she tells you.

“I know,” you say even though you don’t believe it. You kiss her forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Scarlett nods and wraps her arms around you. She hugs you for at least a minute, resting in her favorite place in the world. Your arms.

“Until next time, my love,” you say as you knock on the window signaling the driver to open the door.

“Goodnight, y/n,” Scarlett says.

She leaves you once again with a dazzling smile. You love her and you miss her already. Maybe one day you can love her public, but until then you’ll steal moments with her as often as you can.

Tag List: @jujuu23 @likefirenrain @be-missed @hehehehannahthings @mythosphere-x @strangegardentaco @avatarsnips @romanoffswoman @natashasilverfox @imthenatynat @red1culous @harleysincairo @rach2602 @lovelyy-moonlight @juicyy444 @natblackwidow2 @youralphawolf72 @btay3115 @lenam07

#scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson fluff #Scarlett Johansson angst #scarlett johansson

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justanotherstarlightmonger · 2 years

Text

Helsinki chapter 10: What was left in Shanghai.

Helsinki syndrome is a term sometimes used incorrectly in place of Stockholm syndrome. It’s use in literature is often ironic and deliberate and literally means when a captive refuses to cooperate with their captor.

Summary: A war of wits does have some rules too. But if one party refuses to acknowledge the sacred rule of leaving family out of it, the other must retaliate stronger to quell any such advances for the future… Or at least that’s what Min Yoongi told himself when he abducted Kim Namjoon’s younger sister. That was before he realized that this elaborate game of chess didn’t have just two players and before he had promised Namjoon he’d keep her safe, But also before he realized that one month was enough to leave his whole life in chaos.

Genre: MAFIA AU, slight yandere themes, smut, a happy sprinkling of fluff/comfort, and a truckload of ANGST.

WARNINGS: SMUT! (I added markers if you wanna skip) Making out, humping, fingering, jacking off, cursing, mutual masturbation, definitely something that might be regretted later, floof ball Yoongi NO ONE IS READY FOR HIM, Taehyung being vulnerable, a dam of memories bursting, massive meltdown, Yoongi ready to swing fists, Yoongi’s heart breaks (more than once), all the Tae enthusiasts might feel some type of way, a heartbreaking goodbye, did I miss anything???

Pairing: Main pairing: Mafia!MIN YOONGI X READER

Others include: Collegeboyfriend!Hosoek x reader + Mafia!Taehyung x reader + Kidnapper!Seokjin x reader.

Word count: 7.6k words

Previous II Ch 10 II next

Helsinki Navigation

Author's Masterlist

Feedback is always appreciated. Leave a comment, or let's talk in reblogs!

A/n: Maybe a week or two's break from Helsinki coz I have a new series to tease you guys with?

Taglist: @rosquilleta @parkdatjimin @gaeguuliii @bebejungkook @minniesvenus @themochiverse @darkafterhours13 @sugasbultornebae17 @silentkei @definetlythinkimanalien @zae007live @badbyeyoongi

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The next morning dawned fresh and bright. But when you went downstairs, there was no flower on the ornament table, and the dining room was gloomy and empty, the table set for only one.

“Ahjumma, is it okay if I have my breakfast here instead?” you stood in the kitchen doorway, hating the silence that engulfed the house.

“Ofcourse my dear,” Mrs Fen nodded.

After breakfast, you were gathering the plates to place in the sink when it dawned on you that you had absolutely nothing to look forward to the whole day. That made you feel sadder. And to think you had been looking forward to the day.

“Ms. Kim, I was going to take a day off since both the masters are absent. Is that okay with you?” Mrs. Fen’s voice snapped you back to reality.

You smiled weakly at her, “Of course! You’ve worked really hard. I’ll be okay.”

“There are extra bodyguards outside on Mr. Min’s orders. You’ll be safe, I’m just worried that you’ll be bored.”

Extra bodyguards huh? You shook your head. “I was going to take a nap. And I asked Taehyung if I could play with his playstation earlier, so I’ll be fine.” you assured her.

Mrs. Fen nodded contently, moving to wash the dishes as you wandered out of the kitchen, into the living room, and sat down on the couch, staring at the blank tv screen. Presently, you heard Mrs. Fen going towards her room and you decided to go back up to yours, in want of anything better to do.

Something that preferably involved a certain dark haired, cold hearted mafia boss.

You didn’t know when you had dozed off, all you knew was you woke up with a start, your heart beating fast. You had had a nightmare, but even as you tried to grasp onto the fading remnants of it in your mind, it readily disappeared from your memory. You rubbed your eyes, looking towards the clock that told you it was late in the afternoon. The house was still and silent around your ears, and suddenly you felt claustrophobic. Your room’s walls seemed to be closing in on you, the luxurious interior seemed to be eating away at your peace of mind and you felt your breath come in short pants.

You stood up, swiftly moving to the door, and throwing it open. Absent-mindedly, you made your way back downstairs, before something caught your eye. A giant bouquet of flowers sat on the ornamental table in the hallway, that had definitely not been there when you went up. Eyes wide, and mind distracted from the panic that had been setting in, you approached the table cautiously.

You recognized the flowers instantly. They were all the flowers that Yoongi had left you over the course of the week. Every single one of them showing off their wonderful bright colours and unique petals while still blending in with each other making a splash of colours and beauty and delicacy that held your eyes delightfully.

You cooed, lifting it off the table, mesmerized by it, before it dawned on you that there was only one person here that would give you flowers. “Yoongi…” you whispered, already running halfway up the stairs, the bouquet clutched to your chest.

Yoongi’s bedroom door shook with the force of your knocks. Immediately, you heard swift footsteps from the other side, a smug smile settling on your face at the urgency you had instilled in him. The door flew open and a wide eyed Min Yoongi stepped out.

“Are you oka-” he couldn’t even complete his sentence before he was smothered in a hug that he most definitely was not expecting.

“Hey…y/n…” he patted your back as you clung onto him, aware by now of what you had done and incredibly embarrassed of it, holding onto him, only because you were too red to face him right now. He chuckled, his shoulders moving under your arms, as his hands came to rest on your sides and pushed you off gently.

“It’s nice to see you too.” he nodded, his tone definitely teasing.

You rolled your eyes, but still shuffled a little closer, still trying to disappear somewhere that didn’t have him, which was ironic since you were waiting for him impatiently not a few hours ago.

He didn’t know what came over him, as he leaned lower, resting his head against yours. Shocked, you finally raised your gaze to meet him, something that made you gasp at the tenderness and longing you saw in his eyes. Had he missed you?

Yoongi, on the other hand, was fixated on the way your hands held onto the bouquet of flowers he had left for you. You looked so beautiful to him at that moment, his heart thudding in his chest at the proximity and intimacy of the fact that both of you were alone in the house.

Without thinking, his hand found its way under your chin, cupping it and holding it in place, as he bent down and placed a tender kiss against your lips. He opened his eyes when he heard your breath hitch, only to see your eyes closed, your head tilting forward, chasing his lips as he pulled away. The softest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, he kissed you again, pulling you to him, a soft sigh escaping him as you kissed him back.

(SMUT)

Wordless, you both let your bodies do the talking, as your hands bunched his shirt above his strong chest, holding him close to you, pressing the flowers against his hard muscles as they were squished against both of you, and his hands held your waist tightly, holding you to him, his tongue licking across your bottom lip.

He started walking backwards, pulling you with him. He sat down on his bed, and you easily straddled his lap, your forehead resting against his, your mind silent and your heart working overtime to pump blood, something that the aggressive red tint on your face was quick to give away.

Both your heavy breaths mingled, Yoongi’s big hands roamed aimlessly across your back, soothing you strangely. You looked down at the flowers, smiling at them and placed them to the side, before they were completely ruined.

Your weight right above Yoongi’s crotch was not helping his restraint at all. He felt himself getting harder, the feel of your warm, soft body under his hands fuelling the lust that was easily clouding his brain. He blinked repeatedly, then looked up at you, who was staring at him with a storm of emotions raging in your eyes.

You kissed him again, taking him by surprise, and pleasantly cementing the suspicion that you had infact, missed him. He kissed you back, willing to take whatever happened, at your pace. But that idea was also quickly shot down as you grinded on his considerably hard erection. Yoongi pulled away with a gasp, biting his lip and regarding you with lidded eyes.

“Are you sure you can finish what you’re trying to start?” his voice was thick.

You nodded, wiggling your hips, the firmness in his pants feeling great against your own core, that was quickly getting wetter.

Yoongi wasn't completely sure what had taken over you, but as long as he had your consent, he'd be willing to play along to whatever. Which is why, he wasted no more time, grabbing onto you and pushing you off him and onto the bed, hovering over you, gauging your expression before crashing down on your lips.

His deft tongue was quick to enter your mouth and steal away your breath, and whatever sense you had left was quickly robbed as his foreign but welcome fingers found their way between your legs.

You moaned softly, making his dick twitch, as he kissed along your jaw, holding your face to the side to give him room to have his way.

Your thigh was between his legs, resting right next to his dick, that was straining his jeans by now, as he humped your leg, a pleased sigh fanning against the wetness he'd left on your jaw.

His fingers still teased your wet heat from above your panties, which were quite damp by now. That had to change. You angled your hips, chasing his fingers for more of the welcome friction that he was getting from you but was denying you. "Goddamn it Min, I need to feel you." You growled.

Yoongi smirked, but was willing to give you what you wanted. And soon enough, he had pushed your panties to the side and was running his fingers through your wet folds. "So damn wet." He mumbled.

You sighed in pleasure at the soft sensation, arching your back against him as his fingers worked your slick across your clit, vibrating it, causing pleasant thrills to shoot up you.

It had been so long since you had had sex, something that your body was quick to remind you as you were already sopping wet and madly aroused by his fingers only.

The fact that both of you were still fully dressed, made the whole thing even filthier and forbidden in Yoongi's eyes. His fingers, wet and coated in your juices, pulled back for a moment as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped himself, sliding his pants and boxers down, just enough to have his dick out.

You, who still had your eyes shut, and chest heaving, felt his hand guide yours to his length, which you grabbed onto willingly but refused to look at. You pumped him, feeling just how thick and long he was, but still would not look at him.

Yoongi didn't care, he was aware that the situation that both of you had found yourselves in might well be a mistake that you'd regret later, and as long as he felt satisfied in the moment, he'd worry about later, later.

His fingers found their way back to your pussy, where he continued his ministrations, going crazy at the wonderful little sounds you let out. Soon, the both of you found a rhythm among yourselves, stroking each other in unison as you rocked your hips up against Yoongi's touch, your eyes shut and breathing labored.

It was when you felt a finger ease into you that your eyes shot open and you regarded him.

"Is this okay?" He asked.

And just like that, you clenched around his finger, finding his ever readiness to ask for permission so goddamn sexy. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered if he was this moral in his business affairs, but that was a question for another day.

Another finger entered you and you grabbed onto his dick tightly, feeling the stretch now. The strong grip you had on him, made his dick throb, something you felt in your hand, making you smirk. You increased your pace, breaking out of the rhythm you had created with Yoongi, determined to make him cum before you.

But the knot in your stomach told you another story as Yoongi scissored his fingers inside you. Your pumps became urgent and the pressure your palm applied increased as Yoongi bit his lip, catching onto what you were doing. "Easy there doll." He warned you, his free hand pushing your thigh wider apart.

"Oh God…" you sighed as he caressed the inside of your thigh, his thumb circling your clit as the wet, lewd sounds of your pussy surrounded the both of you. Yoongi felt your walls clamp on him, and knew you were close. But so was he.

Was this a war of wits? He wondered, curving his fingers inside you to hit your g spot. You nearly screamed "Right there!"

He rutted his hips into your hands as he tickled your g spot, blood rushing to his head. "I'm gonna cum" you groaned.

"Me too." He agreed, meeting your pumps with his hips and your hips with his strokes. The knot in your stomach tightened and your heart thudded, knowing what was coming, every muscle in your body was taut.

And then you were cumming, clenching around Yoongi's fingers as raspy moans fell from your lips as Yoongi vibrated your clit, overloading your senses.

As you were still recovering and coming down, your hand still working, you heard Yoongi's breathing become shorter. As you looked up at him with wide waiting eyes, he grumbled a prolonged "Fuuuuuck" before releasing his hot load right on your hand.

You smiled shyly at him, withdrawing your hand, taking the paper towels he handed you to clean it, you felt like your head was much clearer.

Yoongi let his weight fall, half on you and half on his pillows. "Safe to say you missed me?" He teased.

"Thank you for the flowers Min," you said, snuggling upto him a little.

"You're welcome sweet girl." He petted your hair, making your limbs heavier and lids droopy as your breathing slowed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (safe to peek now)

How you fell asleep again after literally just having woken up from a nap, was a mystery you would never solve, as you woke up once again to see the room dark and the space next to you empty. The bed wasn’t yours, that much you knew instantly, but it took a few seconds for the rest of your awareness to come rushing in, and realization to strike that this was Min Yoongi’s bed. One that he wasn’t in right now.

You groaned, hiding your face in the pillow you lay on, immediately being assaulted by his scent. As you lay there, limbs aching slightly, you wondered what to do now. Should you leave and go to your room without facing him? The idea seemed good, but you knew yourself. You knew you wouldn’t step out of that room from embarrassment until Mrs. Fen would come back and rescue you. But the alternative wasn’t very pretty either. Staying here and waiting for Yoongi to find you didn’t seem like a good idea either.

As you lay there, contemplating your choices, the warmth of the duvet and the chilly air of the air conditioning started working their magic on the haze in your brain, and before you knew it, you were deep asleep again.

You woke up with a start this time, honestly wondering if you had been drugged.

But you couldn’t think about it much longer because you had to bite back a scream as an arm tightened around your waist. Stilling your movements, you held your breath and looked to the side, to be greeted with a sight so soft, you had to remind yourself this wasn’t Heaven.

His eyelids fluttered, and a little gasp left his lips. You smiled involuntarily at the little frown that formed between his brows. And then you realized he was waking up, awkwardness flooding back into you, replacing the peace the soft moments had brought you. But before you could shift away from him, he had grunted and was pulling himself closer to you, until his face was hidden in your chest.

Yoongi was deep asleep right next to you, one arm flung carelessly across you, holding you to him, his lips parted slightly, his expression smooth and oh so peaceful.

You stared for god knows how long, a cacophony of emotions rumbling inside you. How could someone be this goddamn beautiful? How did he look so innocent when you knew full well the nature of the man he was when he was awake. You could stay here for an eternity, because this Yoongi that you beheld, was perfection. And you never wanted to lose sight of him.

At that moment, you swear you melted. And also, you were perfectly sure this was definitely not Min Yoongi. That, or this was a dream.

His arm loosening around you was all the permission you needed and you nearly jumped out of the bed, sprinting out of the room and back into your own, with a thundering heart and red cheeks, leaving a still sleepy, but fully aware Yoongi alone in his bed.

“Good morning.” a gruff, sleepy voice sounded muffled right next to your heart. Oh God, what was he doing to you? Why was this so uncomfortable, yet felt so right?

“Mornin’” you whispered back, and you felt him smile. Your heart felt like it would break. You had to get out of here. You squirmed, “I have to go to the bathroom.” you said, pulling the excuse out of the blue, just to have him release you.

You missed breakfast that day, even though you hadn’t eaten anything the whole day prior, you just couldn’t bring yourself to face Yoongi yet, and since Mrs. Fen didn’t come up to offer to bring it to your room, you figured, she wasn’t back yet. Another reason not to descend those stairs.

When you left your room later, you tiptoed to the kitchen, hoping and praying you wouldn’t find Yoongi anywhere. But if luck had ever been on your side, you wouldn’t be here in the first place, because Yoongi spotted you from the door of his study.

“Could you come in here after getting something to eat?” he called out, making you halt in your advances, facepalming yourself, something that effectively made Yoongi laugh, hiding his face behind his hand to muffle the sound. You were too damn cute for your own good.

When you came to stand in his doorway, he looked up. “I was thinking about how you said Greek mythology intrigued you, and we have some books on it. Taehyung went through a mythology phase once, and his study is quite stocked in texts about it. Feel free to grab a book you like.”

“Oh.” you said simply.

Yoongi rose, “Here, have a seat, I’ll go bring you some.”

You were about to object, about to say that you could go get them yourself, about to say that you’d rather read alone, but none of those objections came out, and Yoongi was gone, leaving you to carry your plate of food over to his desk and sit in one of the chairs, awaiting his return, a strange thrumming in your chest.

Presently, he came back, carrying a pile of leather bound books that he placed in front of you. “These are all I could find on the Greeks.”

And that’s how you found the activity you’d do for the coming week.

You fought back a smile. “Um, Thanks I guess?” you said, following him with your eyes as he sat across from you, his posture relaxed as he resumed whatever he was doing on his laptop earlier.

“Don’t mention it.”

It was on one of those days, that Yoongi wordlessly rose from his own chair, circling the table moving towards you. You didn’t think much of it, by now used to his habit of walking around the study to stretch his legs and ease his thoughts, but he came and sat next to you. You looked up from the book you were reading, holding him in a questioning gaze.

Your days after that seemed to be going so smooth, you sometimes found yourself admiring the domesticity of it all. Mrs. Fen came back later that same day, and had wordlessly accepted the companionship that you and Yoongi seemed to share.

And so, without judgment, you had immersed yourself in the battles that Zeus had fought, and the lovely food that Mrs. Fen cooked, and the comfortable silences that Yoongi extended between you.

“Would you like to talk to your brother?” he asked.

Your heart skipped a beat. In the back of your mind, there had always been this small thought festering that you should talk to Namjoon. The last time, you hadn’t ended on good terms, and this was the longest you had gone without talking to him, but it was so foreign to you that it didn’t seem to bother you anymore. In fact, you had seldom thought about your family members, in a way that would make you sad. Just like that day you had realized in the kitchen that the emotions of grief were muted, you found yourself reminiscing many memories, often fondly, but never sadly. So when Yoongi asked you this, you felt a little unprepared to answer.

“What’s gotten into you suddenly?” you countered.

“It’s just that, you’ve been following all the rules and have been such a little delight,” his hand extended and ghosted over yours, that still held the book. Your arm jerked. “And I wanted to reward you somehow.”

The word reward didn’t sit right with you. In fact the whole situation didn’t sit right with you. Your mind had been docile, your panic had been at bay these past few days. It had felt like you were being much kinder to yourself, and now suddenly, many intrusive thoughts came rushing back in. Namjoon wouldn’t want to talk to you after the way you’d hung up on him earlier. Why should you embarrass yourself by calling him and getting hung up on. You didn’t want anything to do with anyone at the moment. Unless it was… no, you wouldn’t think about him. You wouldn’t think about Hoseok because shutting him out of your mind had been the only way you had survived this long.

You shook your head, adamant. Yoongi frowned, but remained silent. Your reaction confused him. Shouldn’t you have been jumping for joy at the aspect of talking to your brother? What was this then. That’s when he noticed the little tremble in your hands. “Y/n, are you alright?” he asked, concerned.

Later that evening, Mrs. Fen excused herself because she had a headache, leaving Yoongi and you to your own devices, and announcing that she had already made dinner and that you’d have to help yourselves. When your stomach started grumbling, you decided it’d be a good idea to go in.

You slammed the book shut, rising swiftly. That was a mistake, as you immediately saw stars and braced yourself on the back of Yoongi’s chair.

“Hey, woah.” he stood up, holding onto your hand with both of his.

“Let go,” you snatched your hand away and made towards the door, escaping the stuffy study and walking out into the garden, the only area of peace you had here, a few stray tears leaking out of your eyes.

“You can tell me if you want to talk to him, on your own time.” he said.

As you stood in the kitchen, your plate of food ready to steal away to your room, Yoongi (who had been waiting for you to appear) made his way into the kitchen.

Wordlessly, he took your hand. You stood there for a moment, awkward and uncomfortable, but didn’t pull away, still feeling bad about the way you had snapped at him earlier.

Fixated on a spot above his left shoulder, you nodded.

“Y/n?” he called your attention. You looked at him at that. “Have you been crying?” He wasn’t a fool, he could see your wet lashes.

You shrugged. Yoongi’s heart clenched. “I–” he had no words. He couldn’t believe he was the cause of your suffering once again. And he had been trying to be nice this time. He didn’t understand what went wrong, and he wanted to make it better. But he knew his words wouldn’t be enough, since you never trusted the words he had to say.

But there was something about the way your red-rimmed eyes looked up at him that had him convinced that he had to make the hurt go away. Without thinking, Yoongi was leaning his head to kiss you. Your eyes widened, clearly seeing what was coming. Your heart thudded as you rose on tiptoe to meet him halfway, smiling a little when you felt the shocked little twitch of his lips when yours met his much sooner than he had anticipated.

The kiss was gentle and sweet, something that none of your numbered kisses earlier had been. It made your heart thud and your legs turn to jelly in the most wholesome way. The surety with which his big hands held your waist gingerly, and how his lips were impossibly soft against you, sent a couple of stray tears rolling down your cheeks. Yoongi pulled away at that, a tormented ghost of ache flitting across his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Yoongi pulled back, regarding you for a moment. “Well, we can’t have that. I think I’m annoying enough to frustrate you, why are you making it hard for you on top of that.” he lips quirked, “Am I not annoying enough?”

You smiled a watery smile, “Believe it or not, it wasn’t you this time Min.”

“Oh, yeah?” Yoongi sounded pleased, but then a little frown came back to mar his features, “Then what was it?”

“Me.” was all you gave him.

You giggled, “No, you’re plenty annoying, please don’t go and get more annoying, I think I might end it all at that.”

Something dark flashed across Yoongi’s face, before he gathered himself, and shook his head, “Just have dinner with me.” he tilted his head to the plate of food next to you.

“Sure.”

The next morning came cloudy and overcast. It was quite chilly, and you swiftly realized you didn’t have any jacket or sweater to fight it. Mentally cursing yourself and Taehyung for pretending to be so thorough with shopping and forgoing the very idea of warm clothes, you pulled on a full sleeved t shirt and some jeans, pulling the sleeves down over your hands as you made your way downstairs, accustomed to the routine by now. What you didn’t expect was a familiar booming voice coming from the kitchen. Taehyung was home.

And he had heard your footsteps even before you had appeared in the doorway. He rushed out to greet, “Hi y/n!” he said cheerfully.

“Tae!” you were genuinely overjoyed to see him.

“How have you been?” his long arm came to rest on your shoulder comfortably, which irked you for the slightest moment, before his bright smile and chaotic energy had swept you into the dining room without you realizing it.

“I’ve been well.” you smiled at him, as you caught Yoongi’s eyes, who was silently sitting at his usual place. “Good morning.” you nodded at him, to which he smiled softly.

After a fairly cheerful breakfast, where even Mrs. Fen joined you three at the dining table and Taehyung talked quite alot about things which you only half understood, mostly because it was full of chemical names for stuff you dared not think about, Yoongi rose and Taehyung followed suit. As Mrs. Fen began collecting the dishes, you were already on your way to Yoongi’s study, your comfortable armchair waiting for you.

Taehyung looked between your retreating back and Yoongi’s slightly smug face with wide eyes. The only reason that Yoongi missed the flash of betrayal on Taehyung’s face was because he was too busy looking at you fondly.

Taehyung clenched his fists as Yoongi returned.

But you had only just parked your behind cozily in your spot, when Taehyung cleared his throat in the doorway, “Y/n, would you mind giving us a few moments?”

You looked up with wide eyes, not confused, just processing. But Yoongi thought you had been offended. “We can go to your study Taehyung, she’s already comfortable.” he was quick to say. But you were already on your feet.

“No, it’s okay. I was thinking of going out anyways.” you said, making your way to the door.

“Wait!” Yoongi grabbed a black hoodie that lay on the couch and was swift on your heels, overtaking you in the hallway. “It’s chilly outside.” he handed you the hoodie, not looking you in the eyes, as you took the hoodie, smiling coyly.

The familiar fan-shaped leaves greeted you, casting shadows deeper than the grayness that the clouds overhead cast. The trees shook with wind that was playing with your hair too, and you would have been cold had the warm hoodie not been swallowing you up. You resumed reading the page you had left off on, settling against the thick trunk, the light just perfect.

You made your way out into the garden, cozy in your new pullover, which was currently making your mind work overtime because of how much it smelt like Yoongi.

You couldn’t help your mind wander to a few nights ago when you had been engulfed in his sharp cologne when you had hugged him so tight, when he had made you feel so good. A warm feeling tingled in the soles of your feet as you made your way over to your beloved gingko trees.

You were immersed in the lore of Hera, when you heard someone clear their throat above you. You looked up to see Taehyung smiling gently at you.

“Hey!” you said cheerfully, scooting over to make room for him.

He sat down next to you, “Hey.” he said. “I see you raided my bookshelves.”

“Not me, exactly, Yoongi got them for me.” you shrugged.

Something was bothering him, you knew that much. But would you have to coerce it out of him or would he tell you himself? “You’re… not talking as much. Is everything okay?” you asked. As soon as the words left your mouth, you were double-thinking yourself. He might easily just be tired. Not everything had to be so deep.

Even though you had called his brother by his name in front of him multiple times, Taehyung couldn’t help the pang of anger and slight jealousy that went through him.

“You’ve been gone for a while. Have you been well?” you asked him, placing the bookmark in place and putting down the book. Taehyung hummed, uncharacteristically silent.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “Just a little tired. And I’m not looking forward to the flight back.”

“Flight back? Are you going back already?” you asked, pouting slightly.

Taehyung smiled at you, despite himself. “No, not just me. We’re all going back.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve been scouting out places where you can stay in Korea. I know you’ve been homesick, and I think I found the perfect one.” he stopped to gouge your reaction. You were only staring at him with eyes wide in wonder. He had found a way for you to go back? You wanted to hug him as tight as you could muster, but you had a gut feeling there had to be a catch, so you waited.

“Please be good though, it took such a long time to convince hyung to move back, and I hope you won’t mess it up.”

You shook your head in disbelief. You had been on your best behavior, so why was Taehyung implying that you were some unmannered little kid that would bring disgrace. Not to mention the fact that he still hadn’t told why he’d gone to such lengths.

“Why though?” you asked.

“Huh?”

“Why did you work so hard to find a safe place for me to stay when I’m fine here?”

A hot flash of anger wrecked through Taehyung. That was downright ungrateful. You on the other hand, were sure you hadn’t shown many signs of being home sick, especially to him. Both of you felt their questions and actions were justified.

“Because…” he swallowed.

You raised a brow.

“Well, because I really like you. And I wanted to make you a little less miserable.” he said, looking you straight in your eyes.

You frowned. He really liked you? Did that mean what you thought it did? You pulled the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands, making little paws as you folded your arms across your chest. “What do you mean?”

“As simple as that. I really like you, and I know it might seem delusional at the moment, but I see myself with you. And I want you to give me a chance to show you how much I mean that.” he said, not a hint of a joke in his usual jolly nature.

Your heart dropped, your skin paling. This could not be happening.

“Tae… no.” you said softly.

Taehyung’s eyes snapped up to you, questioningly. “What do you mean no?” he asked, voice perplexed.

“I… I already have someone…” you mumbled, feeling the memories you had locked away leaking out slowly.

Taehyung also felt his heartbeat increase, for other reasons altogether. Yoongi’s fond gaze came back to him. Had his brother beaten him to another thing? He felt an overwhelming wave of breathlessness take over him. This couldn’t be real, but the way you were hugging that cursed hoodie was not helping his suspicions.

“Who?” his voice came out disgustingly meek.

Now, naming Hoseok would be signing on his declaration of doom. You could never do that to him. Hoseok’s loud, soul healing laughter rang in your ears after so many days. There was a stubborn lump in your throat. “You don’t know him.” you croaked.

You had a feeling Taehyung didn’t believe you. So, you gave him your most convincing power stare. He stared back, hopelessness flashing in his eyes. “He’s been my boyfriend for a long time. He’s probably worried to death about me.” With every syllable, you felt your resolve crumble. You broke eye contact, the hopelessness you had seen in Taehyung’s eyes settling in your heart. Please, let him believe you.

Taehyung, on the other hand, felt a little relief settle into his heart. So, his brother hadn’t gotten to you. The rest, he could handle. But for now, he had to be the considerate friend he knew you had come to trust. Only then, would you trust him with more information about this bastard that you seemed to have deluded yourself into thinking that he had some claim on you. And so, Taehyung smiled at you, his kindest, most understanding smile, mixed with the pitiful sad hints he could play so well.

“Oh…” he said.

“Y/n-ie, wait!” he called after you, but you were zooming across the garden, your breath coming in short pants. You stumbled on the stairs that led to the front door, falling almost onto the door frame, pushing it open with such force that the whole door shook.

Relief washed over you. He believed you.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung.” you felt like you needed to apologize for breaking his heart. It hurt you unexpectedly, his defeated expression. But before he could say more, you were already scrambling to your feet.

“Y/n?” Yoongi’s concerned voice called from the study, which you completely ignored. You rushed upstairs, banging open your door.

The walls of the room that was your safe haven all this time, suddenly seemed to be closing in on you like they did the first day you were here. You clutched your heart, in agony with how much it hurt. You could not get Hoseok’s image out of your head. His ready smile, and little dimples floated in front of you, his loud laughter seemed to be coming from the deadly silent walls, his lithe hands seemed to be intertwined with your own shaking ones. “Y/n-ie, I’m a patient man, I can wait.” he had said to you, whenever you had been scared of talking to your parents about marriage. He had always assured you. Reassured you. In every little step you took, he had been your soft place to land on. He had always urged you to be your own person. “After all, I don’t want you regretting stuff you didn’t do when we’re 80 and surrounded by our wild grandkids.”

“Why will our grandkids be wild?” you had been offended. He merely laughed, mumbling something about taking after you.

“It’s hard falling asleep if I don’t talk to you.” his cute voice reminded you. You clawed at your throat, struggling to hold in the scream that you wanted to let out.

“I love you, my little sunshine.”

‘Hobi… Hobii!’ you sobbed, collapsing to your knees. You missed him. How had you survived so long without him? It was ridiculous how you hadn’t thought about him all this while. You didn’t deserve a love this pure. Someone as selfish as you. ‘Hobi.’ you gasped, curling into yourself on the rug, trembling at the onslaught of memory upon memory that wrecked your heart. “I’ll be right here when you tell them.”

“Y/n…” the painfully familiar voice called you. You refused to open your eyes to meet the no doubt concerned gaze that you knew you’d see.

“Go away.” your voice was raw.

“What did Taehyung say? Did he hurt you?” Yoongi persisted.

But his concerned questions were background noise to you. You couldn’t focus on what he was saying. Not when you were being drowned in realization of another blasphemy you had committed. The memory of Yoongi’s lips on yours felt like acid being poured on your brain, forcefully corroding away those precious memories you held so close to you.

“Y/n?!” Yoongi’s voice was urgent, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. He would slap Taehyung to the other side of the world if he found out he had hurt you.

“Fuck you, Min, Leave me the fuck alone!” you cried, a hiccup interrupting you.

Yoongi gasped, lost as to what was happening. He felt panic rising up a storm in his guts. You were locking him out with no information. What had those ten minutes in the garden done to you? Because for the first time, Yoongi was positive he wasn’t the one making you this miserable. But you refused to even look at him, much less tell him anything.

All the while you sobbed as if someone had punched a hole through your heart, hugging yourself, the hold absolutely useless when it came to providing you with comfort. Yoongi felt his throat constrict. He scrambled to get up, before his emotions got the best of him, and he was rushing downstairs in the next instant.

“What did you do to her?” Yoongi’s cold, angry voice reprimanded Taehyung, who was just stepping in.

Taehyung looked at his brother with a mixture of fear and questions in his gaze. “I didn’t do anything.” he stated, truthful to his own knowledge.

Mrs. Fen, who had been organizing the bar, was also standing in the doorway of the drawing room, ready to step between both the boys if need arose. After all, the last time she had seen Yoongi this angry at his little brother was when Taehyung had blown up one of Yoongi’s favorite cars in a high speed chase and had barely escaped without burning himself.

“Well, apparently you did something wrong because she was alright when she stepped outside yet just now I left her crying as if you shot her family right in front of her. So I suggest you fess up.” Yoongi’s hands were trembling.

Taehyung felt a little roll of unease. Were you really that upset? Did the idea of being with someone like Taehyung repel you that much? Taehyung looked down at his hands, no doubt stained with so much blood of people he never bothered to know about. It made sense. He was a monster. But he’d never be a monster to you. Never.

Yoongi, on the other hand, mistook the gesture entirely, a growl ripping from his throat as he took another step closer to Taehyung.

“That’s enough.” Mrs. Fen stepped between both men, placing a firm hand on Yoongi’s chest. “If Ms. Kim is that upset, let’s go figure out why that is, instead of ripping each other’s throats out.” There was no room for argument.

“I don’t think she’d want to see me.” Taehyung mumbled, making Yoongi strain against himself again. This fucker probably messed up big time. And here Yoongi was, excited to see how you’d react to going back to Korea. The moment was, needless to say, ruined.

The elderly housekeeper was already on her way upstairs, to find you leaning against the foot of your bed, your knees pulled up to your chest, and face hidden in them. Her heart hurt. What had you done to deserve to be this miserable? She silently got to her knees next to you.

“Y/n?” she called gently.

“Of course, my darling.” she said, making the empty promise regardless of the fact that she had no clue what your future held, except for the blind faith she had in Min Yoongi’s heart. She raised her hand to cup your cheek, wiping away the wetness that sat on your cheeks, “You’ll be okay, my strong girl.” she whispered.

You looked up, eyes red and tear streaks fresh on your face. The innocence and heartbreak visible in your eyes tore the housekeeper’s heart. What exactly had happened?

“Will it ever be okay again ahjumma?” you whispered.

It felt like your mother was leaning in front of you, kissing your scraped knees after you had fallen down while playing, your brother the culprit, hiding somewhere in the house. Reaching to the small corner of comfort, you didn’t realize when your arms had wrapped around the older woman. You rested your head against her shoulder, crying loudly, as if mourning the death of a loved one, the ache in your heart starting anew as if an old wound had been ripped open again.

“I miss them. I miss them all ahjumma. Will I ever see them again?” you wailed.

Mrs. Fen remained silent, her heart screaming prayers that you would, her hands rubbing your back and you shook in her arms.

Yoongi, who stood in the door, invisible to both of you in your own bubble, felt himself crumble at your words. He disgusted himself, because he was the reason. Once again, he was the reason you were crying your eyes out. When would he learn? Every negative emotion you felt would lead back to him. He was the cause of your misery. He would remain that until he let you go again. An unfamiliar stinging in his eyes caused him to lean against the wall, and take a couple of shaky breaths. He’d make it better. He always wanted to. But this time, he’d actually try.

A heavy sadness sat over you too. You knew, if all went well, you’d never see Mrs. Fen again. And you were well aware, that if it hadn’t been for her, you would not have survived the weeks you managed to in this house. “I owe you more than you know ahjumma.” you said, voice hoarse.

A couple of extremely silent hours later, a suitcase filled with stuff you had gotten from here, sat in the entrance hallway, as you sat with Mrs. Fen in the kitchen, silently holding her hand.

“The boys will be back before I know it. At least Taehyung comes to visit often. It is you who I will miss so terribly.” the older woman said sadly.

She shook her head, “No, child. You brought innocence and happiness to a house riddled with evil. It is we who owe you more than you know. More than you ever will.”

“I wish we didn’t meet like this.” you said wistfully, not ready to say goodbye just yet.

“You met me when you needed me y/n. And you’re leaving because you don’t need me anymore. Every person in our lives brings something with them. And I, for one, know that you brought me companionship and a bond I had long forgone hopes of having.” she smiled at you. “So cheer up, because this may be farewell, but isn’t it special to have had something that makes saying goodbye hard?”

Tears fell down your cheeks silently. Indeed, this goodbye was harder than you had ever anticipated. Mrs. Fen reached out for your hand one last time, “You’ve been good for Yoongi. Selfish as that may sound, I had forgotten what it felt like to see Yoongi content with life. In the little time you’ve blessed us with, you’ve been good for him.”

You were too stunned to speak. Yes, Yoongi and you had established somewhat of a fellowship in the past few days, but you hadn’t noticed half the things the keen housekeeper had. You smiled softly, “I hope you take good care of him ahjumma. I don’t think I can continue being good for him after all the ratchet things I said to him earlier.”

She laughed airily, “He’s heard worse. But as long as you’re with him, take care of him for me will you?”

You nodded out of respect. There was no universe where Min Yoongi needed someone like you to take care of him. But the heart of Mrs. Fen was the heart of a mother when it came to the two men currently making their way to their cars, after Yoongi had loaded your suitcase into his own. You could atleast leave one person with an easy heart.

You hugged the housekeeper, who finally let a couple of tears fall, and kissed your forehead. You stepped out onto the front porch, looking out into the garden, your respite. Your safe place. The line of gingko trees next to the house, whose beautiful leaves had provided you with a canopy of fantasy to escape to, the soft, well kept grass that you had walked over barefoot many times. The garden was another thing you’d miss. Surprisingly, there seemed to be a lot of those things, for a place that had been your prison.

You turned away, and silently got in the car. Goodbyes were never easy, you reasoned.

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chicken-fifi · 2 years

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The Protector and the Protected - Part VII

Description: After a minor slip up in security, the existence of the only daughter of a diplomat is leaked to the world. With no knowledge of what other unprecedented dangers may arise, your father brings you home after an attempt on your life while living abroad. Upon your return, you are assigned a personal bodyguard to ensure your safety who is to be by your side practically every waking moment. Come hell or high water, he makes sure that you’re as safe as can be while under his watch. As much as you tell yourself that this isn’t some bodyguard fanfic where you end up falling in love, somehow your protector manages to make you question that small detail.

Warnings: Violence, guns, cursing, sexual inuendos, kidnapping, constant danger, mass shootings, smut, idk man just stuff

Word Count: 1,227 words

The Protector and the Protected Masterlist

Seonghwa shifted awkwardly in the seat he’d been sitting in for the past few hours. He hadn't thought that looking for a dress would be as tasking as it was, but it appeared he was wrong. Ms. Lee had ended up coming after your father had called you the night before suggesting that she go with you since she had a general idea about how these galas went and the preparation behind them for those attending. After all, it wasn't the first time she was helping a young lady prepare for one.

“If you keep fidgeting she’ll get nervous,” Ms. Lee scolded after he shifted once again.

“I’m the only man in this dress shop and everyone keeps giving me weird looks,” he uttered under his breath as a sales assistant walked by, solidifying his point as they too gave him an odd look. “I think I’m allowed to shift in my seat.”

Ms. Lee went to say something when you walked out, a different sales assistant helping with the train of the dress. Seonghwa felt his breath catch in his throat and his heart come to a complete stop as he caught sight of you. He gulped as he took you in. You were wearing an a-line-off-the-shoulder burgundy gown with a sweep train along with a slit that stopped at mid thigh. The bodice of the dress had lace and sequins, something that surprised him a little bit. In all honesty you hadn’t struck him as a lace and sequin person.

“What do you guys think?” you asked, bringing his thoughts screeching to a halt and back to reality.

“You look beautiful,” Ms. Lee said a smile on her face as she elbowed Seonghwa in the gut for him to say something.

“Ye-yeah, you look nice,” he sputtered out, averting his eyes as quickly as he could. “Very nice.”

You could feel your own cheeks heat up a bit at his comment, despite the fact that you were positive he was only saying as such to be on good terms with Ms. Lee, who looked ready to strangle him.

“We’ll take it,” you told the assistant with a smile. “I know you also mentioned some jewelry that you said would compliment it very well.

“Oh yes,” she smiled back. “Right this way.”

~~~

The following day Ms. Lee spent every free chance she could to test out different hairstyles and makeup looks on you. While you had insisted on just going to a salon to get those things done early in the morning the day of the gala, Ms. Lee wasn’t having it.

“Seonghwa will burst a blood vessel if he has to sit during another appointment for tomorrow's gala. He could barely sit still while you were trying on dresses,” she’d told you as she stepped back looking at your face and setting down the eye shadow palette. “Now, I’m no makeup artist but I’d say I did a pretty good job.”

You looked in the mirror as she stepped away. She most definitely wasn’t a professional makeup artist but you were positive that no one would’ve been able to do as good of a job as she had done. She’d pulled your hair back into a low chignon with wisps of hair framing your face elegantly. While the look was rather simple, she’d still managed to bring out your natural beauty in a way that would shine even with the more luxurious dress.

“I love it,” you complimented. “Thank you so much.”

“Thank me tomorrow after I do it for the real thing,” she joked, patting your shoulder, giving you a soft smile as she looked at you but seemingly through you in the mirror. “You look nearly identical to your mother when she was your age.”

You turned to look at her, “You knew my mother?”

She nodded, “I wouldn’t say I knew her but I did have my fair share of run ins with her. She was constantly getting lost at the main estate.”

You chuckled lightly, that did indeed sound like her.

“It’s a shame she passed away at such a young age,” she added.

You but the inside of your cheek. The death of your mother was a rather rough patch in your life. She was a healthy woman - well as healthy as one can be when constantly hiding your relationship with a diplomat from the public eye. Yet she’d died from a heart attack just shy of her 40th birthday. You were only seven. Her little miracle child in every sense of the word. Despite the quiet birth, you’d still been registered with your father’s last name, the action alone having gone unnoticed despite the tight surveillance the media had on him.

Ms. Lee must’ve noticed the look on her face after her comment, quickly attempting to change the mood as best she could, “What were you and Seonghwa doing two days ago in the living room?”

~~~

Seonghwa fidgeted with the bowtie around his neck only for Wonjae to smack his hand for what felt like the hundredth time. He groaned, feeling uncomfortable in the tuxedo he was wearing. He didn’t have an issue with the normal button down and slacks, accompanied by the occasional blazer, but this monkey suit was quite literally killing him. His gun was well hidden under the jacket at his waist, something he was hoping he wouldn’t have to use at all during the night.

“You look like a million bucks,” Kiseok said, adjusting his own bowtie. “I don’t think your princess will be able to take her eyes off of you…and I know you won’t be able to take your eyes off of her.”

“Shut up, Ki,” he said half-heartedly, knowing that the second half of his statement was true - and not just based on the fact that he was her bodyguard. “Are you guys coming back here after the gala?”

“I’m not,” Wonjae answered, slipping on his blazer. “I have to report back to hq.”

“Me neither,” Kiseok said with a smirk on his face. “So be as loud as you want tonight. You two will have the entire place to your-”

There was a knock at the door before Ms. Lee opened it, “I hope you’re all decent and ready to leave. Miss (y/l/n) is finishing up by herself.”

“We’ll be right there,” Wonjae answered.

The three men quickly finished exiting the room and heading to the living room, waiting for you. Mere moments later Kiseok was elbowing Seonghwa in his side and not-so-subtly cocking his head at the staircase that led up to your bedroom. There you stood, perfectly illuminated by the setting sun that was shining through the windows behind you. God you looked gorgeous. Kiseok gave a little wolf whistle, bowing like some prince in a Disney movie would when meeting a princess. Seonghwa could take his eyes off you, prompting Wonjae to elbow his other side as he leaned over slightly in his direction.

“Flies are going to fly into your mouth if you keep it open.” Seonghwa shut his mouth, gulping as you reached the floor and began walking over.

“I did good, didn’t I?” Ms. Lee said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Best get going before you’re late. I doubt that would be a good first impression on many of the guests at that fancy party.”

#the protector and the protected masterlist #the protector and the protected #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #soloists and actors master list #gray #lee seonghwa #gray masterlist #lee seonghwa masterlist #gray fanfic #gray fanfiction #lee seonghwa fanfic #lee seonghwa fanfiction

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holylulusworld · 4 years

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Ms. Bodyguard Masterlist

Summary: Jensen is used to be the hero on his show. He’s not a coward, not at all - but when he gets attacked by an unknown man the studio insists on a full-time bodyguard. Specialist in protecting people while living with them - you agree to protect Jensen but he doesn’t like the fact a ‘small’ girl shall protect him. Will you be able to protect the unwilling actor?

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Bodyguard!Reader

Warnings: angst, stalking, violence, blood, slow-burn, attempted murder, arguments, mentions of fighting, self-defense, eventual smut (not sure about this at this point of story development)

The knife

The girl with the combat boots

Nothing better than a unwilling client

Codename Sweetheart

Trust me

Past always catches up

The black dress

Secrets & Lies

Sweetheart and his bodyguard

#Ms. Bodyguard Masterlist #angst #stalking #violence #blood #slow burn #attempted murder #Jensen Ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen ackles series #jensen ackles x y/n #murder #jensen ackles x bodyguard!reader #jensen x bodyguard!reader #bodyguard reader

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ahundredtimesover · 3 years

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Fight for You (07) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: bodyguard!jk x heiress!reader; angst, smut (18+)

Chapter Warnings (series warnings in the masterlist!): foul language; mention of past kidnapping; slightly jealous jk, explicit sexual content (making out, dirty talk, dry humping, breast play, begging, slight edging, oral (m & f), fingering, unprotected sex [but please be safe!]) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 11k

Series Summary: Working at a private security agency has its perks. The downside? Being the personal bodyguard of spoiled, rich heiresses like you. But there are things that Jungkook didn’t expect, like rejecting you, falling for you, and realizing what he’d been missing all along.

A/N: Hi! Still on a little break! 😊 It’s the penultimate one so I hope you enjoy! And huge thanks to Ash @jimilter for this wonderful banner! 💞 If I missed tagging you, please let me know!

Listen to: Dancing with Our Hands Tied, False God, and Afterglow by Taylor Swift

Series Masterlist || Previous | Next

You feel your heart sink as your house comes into view, knowing that it’s another day closer to Jungkook returning to your father’s security team and being away from you.

He’s a little jittery, too, as you watch him from the backseat of the car, just like he’d been since the plane landed this morning. Throughout the day when you attended your meetings, he wasn’t his usual serious, focused self, but you did catch him many times gaze at you a little longer than usual then softly return your smile.

Now, he’s constantly clearing his throat and drumming his fingers on his lap, eyes flitting from one direction to another. You want to hold his hand and tell him that it’s gonna be okay - whatever it is he’s nervous about - and that you’re gonna work it out. If Mr. Sim notices anything off, you’re glad he doesn’t mention it.

You arrive home as the sun sets, and Jungkook makes it to your luggage first before he helps you out of the car, your yearning looks and brushing of fingers intensifying as each second passes.

The front door opens followed by Mrs. Hwang’s questioning voice. “Oh, Jungkook!” She greets, perhaps surprised that you let him be this close to you.

Jungkook returns the greeting and glances at you before you order him to take your things to your room, something that surprises everyone around you.

“I have a few things I need him to retrieve from my shelf,” you clarify, trying hard to level your voice to not give yourself away.

“Yes, Ms. Lee,” he says.

He walks ahead of you, shyly smiling at Mrs. Hwang then heads upstairs, remembering the last time he was here, which was when he took you home after your birthday. He grins to himself at the thought of how things have changed since then.

You open the door and let him in, instructing him to leave the luggage by the couch then you lock the door. Right as he turns around, you lunge at him, catching him by surprise, his wide eyes and parted lips slowly turning into a look of desire.

With your arms wrapped around his neck, you pepper his face with kisses as he chuckles.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says.

“I know. That’s why we gotta make it quick,” you smirk, pulling him into a heated kiss, your tongues entangling in between soft moans and giggles.

You both slowly lose yourselves in the moment, as he moves to lay you on your bed and his lips make the trek from your mouth to your neck then down your breasts. Feeling your desperation, he hurriedly unbuttons your blouse, removes his clothes, then pulls off your trousers.

You whine when he licks then nips your clothed pussy, causing him to growl.

“Need you inside me, Jeon. Want you now,” you pant, aching to be filled again.

You’ve had a taste and now you can’t get enough, wanting nothing more than to feel his essence in you.

“I got you, angel,” he smirks, moving your thong aside and quickly positioning himself, shoving his cock inside you, with you taking in the pain and pleasure.

He lowers himself and you bite his neck to keep yourself from making much noise, sucking and moaning as he thrusts in your pussy, feeling himself get lost in your warm walls that’s accommodating all of him, and that’s enough to get his orgasm to build.

He continues his pace, knowing there’s not much time left. His one hand now strokes your breast, the added sensation causing you to clench around him and reach your highs at the same time.

You let him cum inside you, having had the talk about being clean and being on the pill last night, and your pussy tightens once more when you feel his warmth, prompting Jungkook’s head to fall on your neck.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans.

You giggle and hug him, your fingers stroking his hair as you pepper kisses on the side of his head, something he enjoys with how gently you do it.

Much as you want to stay like this longer, you know you don’t have the luxury to, so you tell him to get up and bring down any box from your shelf so as not to look too suspicious. He does as asked and you both hastily fix yourselves and try to keep neutral expressions when you return to the living room.

Mrs. Hwang and Mr. Sim are standing by the couch, smiling at both of you.

After a beat of awkward silence, Mr. Sim asks. “Is there something you two want to tell us?”

Your eyes widen. “Us? No,” you scrunch your eyebrows. “There’s nothing to tell. Why would you think there is? I don’t think there’s anything that’s of importance. In fact—“

Jungkook clears his throat, signaling that your babbling is just giving you both away.

“Okay, so tell me…” Mrs. Hwang grins, walking towards you to fix the mismatched buttons of your blouse and your slightly tangled hair. She looks at Jungkook who’s visibly nervous.

“Did Jungkook go about his day with a hickey on his neck or was that something he got while he, uhm, retrieved something from your shelf a few minutes ago?” She cocks an eyebrow.

You open your mouth to try and say something but it’s no use. This is a woman who knows you through and through and there’s no point in lying.

It’s your dry laugh that confirms it, if your warm cheeks that probably heated up the room already haven’t.

“Uhm, yeah. There may be a teeny tiny thing that we might have to tell you,” you mumble.

Mrs. Hwang pinches your cheek in adoration. “Okay, then. Why don’t you both tell us over dinner? I prepared some stew.”

You awake the next morning with a heavy arm on your waist and warm breath on your neck. After last night’s dinner and G-rated narration of how you and Jungkook ironed things out, you koala-hugged your bodyguard until he got the message that you didn’t want him to leave.

He agreed to stay the night, internally gushing over your pouty lips and fluttering eyelashes as you shyly asked if he’d like to spend more time with you.

You were about to ask for a continuation of your earlier “retrieve something from the shelf” act after you both washed up, but you saw him run his fingers through the row of your photo albums in your room, a mix of sadness and wonder painted on his face.

“I never had enough photos to fill even one,” he’d said, as he leaned back on you while you hugged him from behind. “I just have a few placed in a small box.”

They’d been solo photos of him that his grandparents took before they passed away, you learned, and you hugged him tighter as he shared the memory.

You went through some of your albums, as Jungkook requested, and you showed your favorite pictures while you sat comfortably between his legs.

He noticed the grand birthday parties you had as a child, the distance between you and your parents apparent. If one didn’t know the Lees, they could easily mistake Mrs. Hwang and Mr. Sim as your real family. And well, that wouldn’t be a lie.

You skipped your 13th birthday, and Jungkook remembers that as the time when your parents didn’t show up. Apparently, they haven’t really done so since then, often prioritizing business trips over their own daughter’s birthday. The rest of the photos had less and less of them and more of the other people you consider your family, including Yoongi and Hoseok.

Jungkook held you as you silently cried. He laid you in bed and kissed your tear-stained cheeks as he reminded you that he’s here now, one other person who cares about you and won’t ever make you feel alone. You fell asleep like that - his arms wrapped around your quivering body, his caresses comforting you even more.

“G’morning,” he mumbles in your ear. “We should go get ready.”

“Thirty more minutes, Jeon. Or an hour more, I don’t care. Just want to stay like this for a while,” you whine, pulling his arm to hold you tighter.

“But—“

“I’m the CEO’s daughter. I’m using that card today.” You face him and kiss the tip of his nose.

“I'm surprised you don’t use it more often,” he laughs.

“I’m not that entitled,” you pout.

“Hmm, I know.” He softly kisses your lips until you finally smile.

“An hour more then, Ms. Lee,” he teases.

For the next two days of “freedom” that you and Jungkook have, you try to be professional. While he leaves you to stay at the staff lounge when you work, he does buy you cafeteria lunch on the first day and you both go out to a restaurant on the second.

His distance from you when you’re in an out-of-office meeting is much shorter than before, and he doesn’t miss the sultry way you sip on the straw or lick your lips when you eat your food to tease him.

This only prompts him to tease you back by adjusting his tie constantly - which you’d said drives you crazy - and overly flexing his biceps whenever you’re close, and smirking whenever he does.

On your last night together, you stay in your TV room seated on his lap as you give in to his request of watching the first Fast and Furious installment.

The almost 2-hour movie turns to three, though due to some commercials every once in a while, but it’s not long after when you end up in your bed in tangled limbs, with Jungkook telling you about the most memorable gift he received from his mother - a set of sports cars that she left on the morning she went away.

“So…” Namjoon starts, as he walks you to the hotel lounge where you’re having your third meeting for the day. “I guess all it took was getting stuck in your vacation home with Jungkook, huh? Who would’ve thought,” he chuckles.

You try to act nonchalant. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, Namjoon.”

“___, I saw him leave your house this morning with a bag,” he deadpans. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the subtle glances you were giving each other during this morning’s briefing; I felt like I was intruding with how affectionate they were.”

You heave out a sigh, mentally smacking yourself for being so transparent and apparently, not so discreet.

“You’re back barely a day and you already know,” you frown. “I mean, Mrs. Hwang and Mr. Sim figured it out barely 30 minutes after we arrived home.”

“Well, that’s on you if you did something right when you got home.”

Namjoon could only laugh at your embarrassed face.

“Just be professional, alright? He’s still your family’s employee,” he reminds you.

You answer with a pout. “Can I return you to my father?”

“You’re a brat, you know that?” He shakes his head and chuckles. “Sadly, you sold Jungkook too well and your father doesn’t seem to want to let him go. So you’re gonna have to figure things out.”

“I know,” you huff. “He takes this job very seriously, as you can tell.”

“Of course, ___. For the longest time, this job was the only thing that mattered.”

As you should’ve known, dating your father’s bodyguard isn’t as easy as you had hoped.

Your office floors are different and while you’re getting included in more meetings with the higher-ups, that’s still twice a week too little.

Jungkook’s required to stay in your family’s residence for 3-4 nights a week, and on the nights when he doesn’t, he takes the chance to do his workout at his friend’s gym and is thus too tired to speak to you when he gets home.

With your father being busy as the last quarter of the year nears - constantly leaving the city and being in countless meetings - and with you being preoccupied with helping the orphanage and your family’s Foundation among other things, there hasn’t been much time to be with Jungkook.

Aside from Sundays - his day off, where you both visit the orphanage in the morning and do whatever you feel like for the rest of the day, the only other moments you share are the affectionate smiles and glances when you see each at work or at dinner with your parents, and the occasional highly risky meet-ups in the staff lounge.

It’s been a month of making it work and you’ll take it. You’re appeased during the very few times he drops by your house after his shift or he lets you stay over to immediately sleep when he’s home. And every time you’re together is time well spent - watching the Fast and the Furious movies, eating food and learning how to cook, sharing stories, and fucking in every corner of his apartment or your room.

Some days though, you want nothing more than to lay in his chest while he tells you that you did well after a little win. You miss him most during times like this. Much as you tease him about his terrible misconceptions about you in the beginning, you know that he believes in you, sometimes more than you believe in yourself.

You check your phone to see it’s almost 1:30PM and Jungkook’s just about to take his break. You’d passed on lunch with some friends to meet him, having sent him a text earlier to meet you in your car in the basement parking lot.

You peek outside from the backseat and see him bow to Mr. Sim who’s been keeping guard, and right as the door opens, you lunge at Jungkook and pull him in a long, deep kiss, your hands cupping his face as his arms quickly wrap around your waist.

“Hmm, missed you too,” he giggles after you pull away, causing your heart to skip a beat, given that it’s not something he says often.

You kiss him again, hands on his collar this time, as you both get lost in the moment, knowing you’re not granted much time.

He slightly pulls the hem of your dress and it’s not long after when you’re straddling him, your pussy meeting his hardening length, prompting you to buck your hips against his.

Soft moans echo in the car, growing louder as his hands trail up your thighs, your bare torso, then your covered breasts.

“Fuck. Please,” you whine. “Need you.”

“Angel, it’s too risky,” he pants, as you make open-mouthed kisses on his neck. “And it’s gonna be messy.”

“But,” you huff, stopping to lean your forehead on his shoulder and he chuckles, knowing you’re probably pouting.

This isn’t the first time he’s gone against having sex during work hours and outside of your respective homes.

Your breaths get faster and deeper and he thinks you’re cutest like this, when you want him but can’t get any more than his kisses.

But Jungkook has long realized, ever since the start of your relationship, that between the both of you, he has to be the one to set boundaries, like he always has. Much as he wants to give in every single time, especially when you look at him with your puppy dog eyes and fluttering eyelashes, there’s just too much at risk.

“Hey, angel,” he mutters, lifting your chin to face him. “Are you just horny or is there something more?”

You furrow your brows as you always do when he teases, given the number of times you’ve called him to say you’re horny but he was away and was never one to do phone sex, not like he can even do it with a roommate.

But you’re reminded of why you’d been excited to see him in the first place, so you sit yourself comfortably on his lap and tell him the news.

“I finally convinced my parents to consider starting the educational sponsorship program in the Foundation,” you softly say. “The kids in the orphanage will be the pilot batch. They said to prepare the pitch for next week’s board meeting.”

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle even in the dark and this smile is truly the best thing you’ve seen in your life, especially because it’s not so easily given.

“___, that’s great! I always knew you could do it.”

“It’s just a pitch though, nothing set in stone yet,” you clarify.

“It’s still a foot in the door,” he comforts. “Isn’t that always better than just looking in from outside?”

“It is,” you smile. “I was just so excited and wanted to tell you in person because I don’t know when I’d get to, which is weird because you’re literally just several floors above me and—“

You’re cut off with a kiss that you easily fall into. “I’m glad you did, then,” he says.

You melt into his hug and know this is enough.

“So, what were you hoping for? Celebratory sex?” He laughs.

“Hmm, maybe. Since I did well and all,” you smirk.

“Well, there’s always another way,” he says, giving in.

He flips you on your back before you can say anything.

“It’ll be quick but keep it down for me, alright angel?” He whispers in your ear, nibbling it and eliciting a moan from you. “You deserve to feel good today.”

It’s not long after when your eyes are rolling back and your arm is covering your mouth to keep yourself from screaming, as Jungkook expertly laps you up, his tongue swirling your nub and moaning into your cunt.

He lets you kiss your essence from his mouth after you’d come.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers, fixing your hair and your clothes right after. “I hope you’re proud of yourself, too.”

It’s days later when Jungkook is at home, the knock on the door causing him to groan, too tired for it to register to him that it’s most likely you who’s on the other side.

He got off his shift at 10 and squeezed in another workout at the gym, with Jin having to physically push him out the door before Jungkook could sneak another round of weights in.

You’re in a long sleeved mini dress, having come from a night out with some visiting friends from grad school and Jungkook lazily smiles at you.

Seeing his damp hair and bandage-wrapped hands, paired with his droopy eyes and soft pants, you know it’s been a long day for him. You tenderly smile back and peck his lips.

“Just wanted to see you to say goodnight,” you say. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

This isn’t the first time that you’d come over late on a Saturday “just to say goodnight,” but like always, the guilt of turning you away - of turning you down for anything, actually - eats him up inside. He pulls your wrist as you walk away, prompting you to turn to him with a questioning look.

“I’ve got a bit of energy left, it’s okay.”

You smile and enter his apartment and fall into his embrace. You curl into his lap as he talks about his day and you talk about yours.

“So, Dana, the one I told you who has a Greek boyfriend, is inviting us to Mykonos in December. I’ve always wanted to go back and I’m so excited for you to go there!”

Jungkook looks at you, confused. “Isn’t the Spain trip with Yoongi and Hoseok in December, too?”

“Oh, right,” you say. “We can just move that to November or January.”

“That’s… easily a month’s worth of leaves,” he computes.

“That you have and are entitled to, right?” You question. “I mean—“

“And there’s still that trip to Gangwon?” He confirms.

“Uhm, yeah. I was hoping maybe we could still go.”

“Oh,” Jungkook hums, turning away to focus on something else that isn’t your almost disappointed face. “Yeah, sure.”

You feel the tension as the silence envelopes you both, and you can’t quite read his face or analyze the tone of his voice.

Perhaps you’re overwhelming him. Maybe you’re being pushy or maybe something else is bothering him. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when he kisses you deeply, sighing into your mouth and swallowing your soft moans until you both detach to catch some air.

“Let’s watch a movie, yeah?”

You nod, sensing that whatever it is, he doesn’t want to talk about it, so you settle next to him with your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you.

Barely half an hour through the seventh Fast and the Furious movie, you hear Jungkook snoring, his head rolling back on the couch. You guide him to lie down and place a blanket over his tired body.

You feel a tinge of sadness as you kiss him goodnight.

You wish he could get proper rest and take time to relax and unwind, knowing that his job takes a toll on his mind and body.

You wish there was more you could do than just sneaking around and asking for whatever time he can spare you. You wish sometimes he would open up more - not about himself, as he’s learning to - but about his fears, his worries, the things he wants with you and for himself.

And you wish, as you admire his sleeping form, that he wants more with you the way you do with him, that he’s falling in love with you the way you are with him.

Jungkook stands in the hallway, back against the wall and trying desperately to listen in on what’s happening inside the meeting room as you pitch your plans on the Foundation’s educational sponsorship program.

There’s not much he can hear though, as he’s positioned towards the back of the room, only your muffled voice indicating that you’re still presenting.

He wants nothing more than to be there and witness you speak with vigor and passion the way you do whenever you discuss this with him, but as he stands outside waiting for the hours to pass, he’s reminded once more of all that he is.

He doesn’t work for your company, he works for the agency. He doesn’t have any role nor place here other than making sure that your father is safe. That’s what Jungkook is - an outsider, someone who’s temporary, who doesn’t belong.

He’s glad you both have Namjoon on your corner, who’s currently inside, watching and encouraging you. He’d promised Jungkook he’ll share all the details, knowing you’d be too nervous to remember everything. Jungkook is content with this, as it’s the closest he can get to seeing you at your best.

Inside, you tell the stories of the children you’ve met, and though you want to focus on hope and and the value of love and support to the youth through learning, the bulk of your presentation is about what this means for your company’s image, knowing that philanthropy adds to consumers’ support for a certain brand.

But the thought is there, and you can’t help but feel joy at the sight of the smallest smile that graces your father’s seemingly satisfied face, especially as you answer each of the board member’s questions.

“It’s a worthy cause, I suppose,” one says.

“Young people are impressionable and could be our target market for this kind of branding. This will be good,” another reasons.

“Well,” your father starts, causing you to hold your breath. “I think everyone is convinced that this will be good for the company. Perhaps we can all agree that my daughter shall oversee the establishment of this program and proceed accordingly.”

Everyone expresses their agreement, the surprised yet elated look on your face evident to everyone present. This is what you want, you tell yourself; it’s something you can contribute, much as you enjoy the business side of things.

Any other comments that doubt your readiness and ability to focus on this and your role in the marketing department enter one ear then out the other.

You did well, you tell yourself, imagining Jungkook’s soft smile as you do.

There’s pride in starting to face your fears or worries about being good enough to manage the company, but more than anything, you know how much good this will do for the children.

You thank the Board then exit the room and briefly glance at Jungkook as you near him in the hallway to go to another meeting. Your pulse quickens as he bows to greet and you feel his gaze linger, a grin painting his face.

“Could you hear what they were saying?” You ask later that night in his apartment after you’d texted you’ll drop by after his shift.

The unbelieving yet excited tone of your voice causes Jungkook to giggle.

“No, but Namjoon told me everything. He looked really proud,” Jungkook replies.

He cages you on his kitchen counter right as he turns off the stove for the premium ramen he made, with sausages this time.

“I wish you got to see me though,” you pout.

“Uh-uh,” he hums, kissing you. “But we probably would’ve been found out if I was there,” he continues, his lips tracing the outline of yours.

“And why is that?” You cock an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t have been able to control myself.”

“Really n— nghhh,” you moan, as Jungkook nips at your neck and unbuttons your blouse, gently cupping your breasts. His mouth reaches them, leaving red and purple marks in its wake.

“I— Uhm, Jeon,” you pant, not quite sure what you want to say, getting lost in the heat of his mouth as it sends shivers through you.

Your mind was just reeling from earlier this afternoon and now it’s all filled with Jungkook and how he feels all over you.

“Hmm?” He peeks at you with his head buried in your now bare chest. “Keep going, angel.”

“No, you keep going,” you groan.

“I intend to. The food can wait.”

You feel his mouth on your exposed cunt not long after, and soon enough, you’re hoisted up the counter and he’s undressing himself, preparing you for him until you feel that familiar sting of his cock inside you.

“Fuck, so good for me, Jeon. So, so good for me.”

He fills you deeply, hitting you in all the right spots as he holds your waist steady to sustain his pace, making you cum quickly, and hard. He kisses you more after he’d released himself in you, laving at your breasts and leaving marks again in the places where he hasn’t.

You whine from over sensitivity and he pulls away.

“What’s with you and kitchen counters?” You weakly tease, still catching your breath.

He pulls you close for a hug and ghosts his fingers over your back. “They’re pretty memorable,” he laughs. “Don’t you think?”

And as you relay what you remember from your presentation, you don’t miss the way he holds you longer than usual and looks at you longingly, proudly, like there’s more he wants to say but can’t bring himself to say it.

Your vacation home in Jeju has always been a special place for you, moreso now when it’s the place that brought you and Jungkook together almost three months ago.

And you could only thank the heavens that of all the weekends that Kim Taehyung - your childhood friend - decides to spend his very early birthday celebration, it’s the one when your father was asked to speak at a conference in Canada, taking Namjoon with him.

Which is why you’re here, staring at yourself in your bedroom mirror, clad in a ruby strapless gown, and Jungkook’s furrowed brows making you giggle.

“Do you really have to wear that dress? Is this a thing, buying your friends gowns for your birthday? Did he give his other friends gowns, too?”

You turn to face Jungkook and straighten his necktie.

“Yes, I do have to wear this because it’s Taehyung’s gift to me. And yes, it’s kinda his thing because he’s always been a gift giver and no, I’m the only one he gave a gown to because I’m his date,” you say, hugging Jungkook to soften the blow.

“You look stunning in it but I don’t like it,” he says.

“I know but you have nothing to worry about, okay? I told you that—”

“I know, I know,” he says, having listened to your explanation of your relationship with the man.

Kim Taehyung was your playmate, the target of the kidnapping when you were both 5 and since then, he’d been on and off the social scene - getting homeschooled, going to boarding school, hiding in the Swiss Alps… Then popping out every few years to throw a grand party then disappearing again.

He’d always had a soft spot for you. It was never anything romantic - Taehyung has a gentle heart who felt bad that you had to go through what you did just because he was your friend. Over the years, you two developed the kind of friendship where you don’t really talk, but every time he’s in town, he makes sure to spend some time with you. He always shows up with gifts, too, something you enjoy but Jungkook, not so much.

“He’s perfectly harmless and perfectly kind. And though I may be his date for this party, I’m yours tonight and the next ones after that,” you smirk, having decided to extend your stay here to spend more time with Jungkook, who eventually relaxes his face and kisses your forehead.

“Fine. But he better not try anything with you,” he groans.

“He won’t, I’ll make sure of that.”

The doorbell rings and you and Jungkook head downstairs and are greeted with the slick-looking man with soft black hair and a perfectly crafted face.

“____,” he greets, hugging you tightly.

You glare at Jungkook who scoffs at the act, warning him to behave.

“I knew you would look beautiful in that gown. I had it custom-made and I’m glad it fits perfectly,” Taehyung says.

“Yeah, barely any alterations needed,” you smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, ____. Always a pleasure,” he bows, and Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“The look isn’t complete though,” Taehyung continues, motioning for his bodyguard to retrieve a box and present it to you.

You’ve seen shiny and beautiful jewelry in your life but this belongs at the top, with the rare pearls and diamonds joining perfectly to create an exquisite set of necklace and earrings, leaving you speechless.

Taehyung proceeds to put it on you, and you briefly get a look of Jungkook’s unreadable face, unsure if it’s wonder or something else in his eyes.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, fingers grazing over the precious stones, and you revel in the beauty of it around your neck and on your ears.

You know enough not to reject gifts like this from your friend, so you profusely thank him, earning you a shy smile.

“Now that you’re all set, shall we?” He asks, his arm out for you to hold.

You nod and walk out, with Jungkook holding the door, and the now unfamiliar look of seriousness on his face.

The party is a lot more fun than you expected. It’s quite intimate, as Taehyung only really keeps a small circle of friends and none of them are common with yours, which is something you appreciate. The food is delicious but what you’re really enjoying are the jazz performers who are entertaining the guests for the night.

With Taehyung assuring you that you don’t need to stay by his side the whole time, you’re able to go to Jungkook, with him telling you that you’re in an event where people can easily make claims about your relationship, prompting you to frown at his sudden coldness, given how he refuses to look at you when he speaks with you.

During the times that Taehyung is around you, though, he doesn’t fail to hold you by your waist, whispering in your ear, and looking at you intently while you speak. He has this sultry glare that he has on when you’re around others but when you’re alone, he turns into the gentle boy with the most endearing smile that you can’t help but mirror.

You know how it looks, but you sneak in a smile at Jungkook to remind him not to worry, but he doesn't seem to notice.

You decide to retreat early, knowing that despite the company, you want nothing more than to be with Jungkook and be ravished by him in all ways possible.

“I need to check on the security system and report to Mr. Han if it needs updating,” Jungkook says when you get home.

“It’s 10 in the evening, Jeon. You can do that tomorrow.”

“But I wanna do it right now,” he says sharply.

“Fine,” you frown. “I’ll be in the pool in case you decide that I’m way more fun than some alarms and CCTVs.”

You stomp to your room, feeling like a brat just to match his stubbornness and clear jealousy, so you don your white swimsuit and head outside.

In the security room, Jungkook sees you in the monitor, heading to the spot by the pool that you know can be captured by the camera. It’s where you remove your robe to show what you’re wearing. You slowly walk down the steps to settle by the ledge, away from where you can be seen.

Jungkook groans, knowing what you’re doing, knowing that he won’t get to resist you anyway so he walks back out, still clad in his suit, and stands on the ledge across from you.

“Hmm, the water’s so good,” you moan to tease him, knowing it’ll get him riled up.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

You turn to him with your fluttering lashes and flirty smile, thinking of how breathtaking he always is when dressed in formal attire with his exposed forehead and the slump of hair falling over his eye. “Enjoying the view.”

He groans. “You’ll be the death of me, you know that?” He says, easily giving in. He loosens his tie before he pulls it off, followed by his suit.

He swiftly unbuttons his polo, his tongue poking his cheek in mixed frustration and lust, pulling the piece of clothing off to reveal his flexed biceps and tense torso, the ridges of his abs shining in the minimal overhead lights.

His gaze darkens as you lick your lips while you watch him work on his belt, then his pants, until he’s in nothing but his black boxers and you just know how hard he is right now.

“Angel’s waiting for you,” you tease.

He huffs and steps down to the pool, slowly walking to where you are, savoring the tension between the both of you. He makes it to you and rests his arms on your sides to cage you in.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you tried to make me jealous in this exact spot not long ago,” he growls.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did to me after and how you made me scream your name,” you reply sultrily.

He grunts before he pulls you in a kiss, his tongue slipping in your mouth immediately and taking your breath away as he devours you with need. It’s almost feral, how he takes you in, swallows you like this, the sting in your lips telling you the intense desire coursing through his veins.

The hands that cup your face quickly move south to pull down your swimsuit, groping your breasts while his teeth now lightly bite your lip. His mouth starts its descent and his tongue laves at the skin it meets until it reaches your pert nipples waiting to be nipped and licked and sucked.

“Uhhhh fuck, you kiss me so good,” you mewl.

He’s an expert at this by now - one hand fondles your breast while his tongue swirls around the bud of the other, leaving you a crying mess as you ask for more. He shifts you underneath to let you feel how hard he is, while his mouth continues its movements that get more intense with your muted screams.

He grinds against you. “Louder, angel.”

You’re barely able to say his name before he’s hoisting you up to sit on the ledge, mouth still on your breasts, consuming them as if he could have them for the rest of his life. He stays there for a while, his other hand exploring the rest of your body, desperate to feel more of you.

He moves further down and you assist him in removing your swimsuit, giggling at the desperation that’s palpable, turning you on even more. You’re left bare in this open space and you know you have the freedom to scream and no one would hear, as you’d asked the caretaker and chauffeur to take the day off.

Jungkook buries himself between your thighs, lapping up your juices mixed with the water but your essence is overpowering. He consumes more of you, letting his tongue trace your lips, your nub, and your hole.

You’re propped on your elbows against the smooth tiles of the floor with your legs spread out, and you’re focused on nothing but Jungkook’s tongue, about to give you your first orgasm of the night, knowing it’ll be so, so good. You start to shake, ready for your release, and then… nothing, the hollow feeling of emptiness making you almost cry from frustration.

“Fuck, Jeon,” you shout. “I was so close.”

“I know,” he smirks. “But I want you to cum all over my cock tonight. More than once, too.”

He lifts himself from the pool, his flexed arms causing your pussy to throb even more, and he easily carries you bridal style to the outdoor chaise not far away.

There’s determination in his eyes when he kneels on the cushion and pulls your legs, angling you upwards. He aligns his aching and leaking dick in your cunt and spreads your slick to tease your clit.

“Fuck, please,” you plead.

His slow entrance is deceiving, as he immediately rams into you, repeatedly thrusting in and out with such intensity. Your muted cries of yes lets him know you’re enjoying this despite the lack of preparation.

“You don’t like it gentle, do you?” He groans.

“No, fuuuuck,” you cry out. “I want it harder.”

He heeds your request. With his eyebrows scrunched in focus, his jaw clenched and his arms at their maximum capacity of being flexed, he looks so sexy like this.

He shifts you again so he can buck into you while his fingers play with your clit, and you’re shameless in how loud you are, begging him to let you cum but he instructs you to hold on longer so he can cum with you.

Your body goes on overdrive as you feel him everywhere - his mouth on your breasts from earlier, his cock hitting all the right spots inside you, and his expert fingers fiddling your clit, like it’s muscle memory at this point.

He’s relentless, his stamina no longer surprising you, but there’s added intensity than usual this time. His grunts are sharper and every push and drag of his dick inside you is pointed and much more intentional. You hold onto the edges of the bed to keep you grounded as the toe-curling orgasm nears its peak.

It’s a few more thrusts that has you losing it entirely, your pussy clenching so hard that you scream in pain and pleasure, causing Jungkook to release his seed with you.

You’re panting as you blink away the tears, trying to catch your breath and he lowers himself, softly kissing your cheeks and your eyes that are still closed.

“You alright?” He whispers as he pulls out.

“Yes,” you huff, opening your eyes and wondering why he looks away.

“So that’s how you’re like when you’re jealous, huh?” You tease. “Duly noted.”

Your wink causes him to frown. “Shut up. I’ll just go hard every time, just tell me.”

“You have nothing to be jealous about, okay?” You say as you caress his cheek. “You’re all I want, no one else.”

“I know. It’s just… Everyone had their eyes on you and—“

“I had my eyes on you. I always do,” you kiss his lips. “But that was so good, Jeon. I’ll need a few days to recover.”

He nods in submission, choosing to let it go, knowing there’s more he feels, something he can’t quite express.

He cuddles next to you at your request, his hands tracing patterns on your skin while you run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the sound of your bated breaths and the crash of the waves down below. The sky is bright tonight and you take your time to marvel at the surroundings with the most beautiful man next to you.

“Come, let’s get cleaned up,” he says after a while.

He helps you on your feet and wraps you in a towel to head to your room.

He takes you again in the shower and on the bed.

Later that night, as you lay on your side facing him, your soft snores the only other sound in the room, Jungkook ghosts his fingers across your tranquil face, as if tracing the features, memorizing them.

He knows he can give you this - the kind of pleasure that leaves you full and satisfied as you nuzzle his arm and sleep in peace; mind blowing orgasms that let you focus on him and nothing, no one else; rare moments of calm that follow amidst the noise in his mind and his heart.

Because he knows, at the end of the day, it’s really all he can give.

The return to Seoul - and two days later, the return of your father - once more marks the return to what is now normal between you and Jungkook.

You suppose you should be used to it by now - missing him, wanting to hold his hand, wishing he’s your date to events instead of him either watching you from afar or not being there at all, wishing it’s easy to tell everyone that you love him.

That it’s easy to tell him that you do.

Well, that was your plan - it’s why you wanted to take that trip to Gangwon so you both could go for a quick drive to the mountains and be away for a weekend. But as you look at your text messages, you don’t see that happening anytime soon.

[From: Namjoon] Is your trip pushing through? Jungkook hasn’t filed a leave and I need to know. Gotta make arrangements.

You brought it up again when you got back to Seoul from Jeju and all Jungkook said was “sure” but didn’t ask for the details.

[To: Namjoon] Maybe not now.

You sigh and keep your phone, tempted to message Jungkook even if he’ll probably respond late in the night.

“Everything okay?” Ina asks as she sips from her cup during your meet up over afternoon tea.

“Hmm?” You look at her and force a smile.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“What do you—“

“Oh, come on, ____. Don’t tell me you’ll still deny it,” she chuckles. “It’s pretty obvious what’s going on with you and Jungkook. Even the kids know it. But you seem pretty down. Anything wrong?”

“What? How could they know such a thing?” You squeal, focusing on her first questions.

She shrugs. “Well, they feel love with you. Maybe they see it on you, too.”

Your cheeks warm at the thought.

“Jungkook and I aren’t… there, actually,” you admit. “Well, we haven’t said it. I haven’t. I don’t know about him. If he feels it, I mean,” you stammer.

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t. I mean, he looks at you like he does,” Ina smiles.

Much as that's nice to imagine, it only causes your uneasiness to shoot up.

“Don’t make me hope like that, Ina.”

She takes your hand in an effort to soothe you. “You know I wouldn’t, but there's just something about the way he looks at you, like he’s in wonder… and it’s often when you’re at the newborn wing and you do that thing where you caress the baby’s cheeks and make them laugh.”

“He had a rough childhood, he told you. It’s probably longing because he didn’t feel that with his parents,” you reason.

“Looks more like longing for a certain kind of future than his past, though. I mean, dreamy eyes, ones that can’t move away from you, a smile that’s just so pure and hopeful. Must mean something, right?”

You let her words settle and smile at the image of Jungkook, something you haven’t seen. But Ina’s right - it means something. In fact, it means everything.

You can’t contain yourself as you enter your parents’ residence later that night, excitement bubbling within you at the thought of encountering Jungkook again.

It’s odd, given that for months, you spent more time with him than anyone, something you truly looked forward to. But now - by your own doing, you remind yourself - you have to wait for the moment that you’re even presented with the opportunity to be with him.

Like now, at the intimate gathering that your mother organized in their home.

You spot him immediately in his impeccable black suit, his familiar stance and serious face still making your heart jump. You glance at him and see him purse his lips, as if stopping himself from smiling.

Jimin engages you in conversation, filling you in on his not-so-secret girlfriend and you fill him in on your almost-boyfriend since you and Jungkook never really talked about it, always just content being in each other’s arms - talking, laughing, kissing. But you look at him again and like always, he’s all you can see.

Your friend snaps his fingers at you. “You got it so bad,” he laughs. “There are people around and you’re ogling.”

“You know what it's like,” you nudge him. “You want someone so much that you don’t notice anything else.”

He giggles again and he almost chokes as you pat him in the back.

“Shift change. Cover for me,” you say, sneakily making your way through one of the hallways right as one of the bodyguards relieves Jungkook.

You lived in this house for years. You've embedded the ins and outs of this place in your mind because you spent most of your time exploring the grand place. You know the hallway that the house and security staff take to go to their residence, one that you know right now would be empty.

The carpeted floor cushions your clanking heels as you make your way towards Jungkook, gripping his wrist and meeting his surprised face.

“___?”

You respond with a smirk and push open the door behind you and pull him in with you, crashing your lips onto his once it’s closed.

Jungkook takes a breath as quickly as he loses it in your lips and eyes you up and down, the mid-length dress fitting your form very well.

“We—“ he tries, but his sounds get muffled by your kisses.

“We don’t have much time.” Your look is soft before it turns desirous, grabbing him by his collars and caging him by the sink of the powder room.

“Mhmm,” he hums. “What—what are you doing?”

He watches as you loosen his tie and unbutton his polo, his chest the perfect canvas for you to mark him how you want, earning you muted pants as you gently palm his dick.

“Been thinking about you all day,” you moan.

Your wet muscle trails further south, down his abdomen and his hips, until your eyes face his clothed length. “Want to taste you badly. Can I?”

“Yeah but… we’re in your parents’ house.”

“Gotta be quiet then,” you wink, then you quickly unbuckle his belt and zip down his pants, his aching cock springing on his stomach and you moan at the thought of him filling you up.

Your knees settle on the carpet and you make quick work of licking him all over and putting him in your mouth, the familiar sting turning you on further.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, trying hard not to make any more noise.

You get off on his held back sounds and swirl your tongue around his shaft, tracing the veins then spending time on his slit. His body tenses, his hands gripping the edges of the counter, and you relax him by grazing your fingers along his lean and delicious thighs, feeling the sensation course through you with every curse and every moan of your name that leaves his mouth.

It’s not long after when you settle for a good pace and bob your head up and down, your hand stroking his shaft near the base until you ease him in deeper, hitting your throat to bottom out.

You gag but the sound he makes is worth it and you feel like cumming yourself.

Even with hooded eyes, he looks down at you, your pretty figure looking heavenly with his cock going in and out of your mouth. Right now, nothing else matters but the feel of him inside your warmer walls, clenching for him.

“I’m not cumming in your mouth, angel,” he growls, lifting you from the floor and pushing you towards the sink to face the mirror, his dark gaze looking back at you.

He lifts your leg to rest on the counter and unzips your dress from the back to let it pool on your waist, revealing the lace bra covering your breasts.

“Wanted me since you entered, huh?” He sucks on your shoulder as he pulls aside your thong. “Couldn’t stop looking at me. I could see you, angel.”

“Want you alw—“ you gasp at the sudden feel of him inside you, causing you to hold onto the sink as he shifts you so he could push in deeper.

With his one hand on your waist and the other groping your breast, he shoves himself inside you with such vigor, it has you seeing stars.

“Shit, fuck keep going. Fuck yes,” you mutely cry out, knowing these walls aren’t soundproof.

He looks back at you in the mirror and you stay that way for a while - hooded eyes forcing themselves open, jaws slacked as tempered moans leave your mouths, his angry cock assaulting your pussy, sliding in and out so nicely with how wet you are. And you, asking for more.

It goes like this until you both climax, with your whole body, especially your sore legs, shaking at the sensation.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck as you both come down from your highs, unbelieving that he really took you in the powder room of your parents’ house where they and their guests are partying outside, the sudden feeling of frustration making his head hurt.

Your pants alternate until he's caught his breath enough to fix your underwear and zip up your dress, choosing not to say anything more. He turns you to face him and reminds you to work on your make-up before you head back.

There’s no fixing of your messy hair, no forehead kiss nor cheeky smile, just an unreadable look on his face before he tells you he has to go.

You mindlessly nod and watch him leave, an unfamiliar worried feeling bubbling inside you.

Jungkook doesn’t make it far before one of the staff calls for him. He’s paralyzed in panic, worried someone might’ve heard you both or suspected something going on, more so when he’s told that Mr. Lee is calling for him outside.

He gathers himself and heads back to the party, spotting your father who is animatedly chatting with someone familiar - the security agency’s Director.

“Mr. Yoon,” Jungkook bows in acknowledgment. “And Mr. Lee, you called for me?”

“Oh yes,” your father smiles. “My good friend here was just asking how his men are doing. I said they’ve been doing really well, especially the one who took a bullet for my daughter.”

Jungkook returns a smile, visibly flustered and elated at the same time, knowing that your father rarely compliments like this.

“Well, I shouldn’t have expected any less. We train our men well,” Mr. Yoon responds. “Jungkook here has always been one of our best - skilled, intelligent, knows his place. I’m glad it’s been working out for your family.”

Knows his place.

It shouldn’t be a bad thing - it’s something that’s been drilled in his head for years, even before he started working at the agency. The kid who wasn't good enough for his parents, for school, for his girlfriend should clearly know his place; the bodyguard whose only job is to protect his client must know his place, the man who had to learn to survive must know his place, know what he can wish and aim for, what he can claim.

The conversation fades into the background in Jungkook’s head, as his reality hits him again, especially as you return to the party in your marigold dress, sparkling jewelry, and practiced smile as you entertain some of the country’s richest socialites.

Jungkook can vaguely make out the exchanges around him but between the shares and islands purchased, the high-level and exclusive events coming up, and you - what you contribute to the company, what you do for others, what you own and desire, who and what you are… You may not always feel like you belong here but you do, and this is your world.

It isn’t his.

“Well, I’m really glad that ___ chose you, then,” Mr. Yoon says, bringing Jungkook back to the party.

“I agree. I used to wonder what she saw in you,” your father continues. “But I don’t know who else could’ve protected her better than you. No offense to Namjoon, though, but he agrees,” he laughs.

Jungkook laughs along, choosing to ignore the heaviness in his heart and the cloud of thoughts plaguing his mind.

You crane your neck to the window to check for perhaps the fiftieth time in the last half hour if Jungkook had returned yet. You left your parents’ house over an hour ago, having stayed a little longer to entertain the Parks.

Mr. Sim hums from the driver’s seat, meeting your eyes in the rearview mirror from time to time to give you a comforting smile, while Namjoon busies himself with work on his phone. You sigh and sit upright, lolling your head to the side, hoping Jungkook would come home already.

Then there’s a knock on the door.

“Jeon!” You say as you exit the car. “I didn’t know you left the party early.”

“Yeah,” he nods with a half smile, clutching on the bag strapped over his shoulder. “Mr. Han told me it was okay. I wanted to get a workout in.”

You take in his exercise shorts and oversized hoodie. “I dropped by the gym, actually. Jin said you didn’t stay long.”

“Oh,” Jungkook furrows his eyebrows. “I wanted to run.”

You nod, trying not to worry yourself about his unusual lack of energy around you, especially after what happened earlier.

“Why’d you wait? You could’ve just gone home. It’s been a long day for you.”

“I wanted to see you again,” you smile.

“Well, we’re seeing each other tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but, you know, it was pretty fun earlier,” you giggle. “Just thought maybe we could…”

You see him sigh and you deflate in return.

“What’s wrong?” You move closer to him to see his face more clearly.

“We can’t do that again, okay?” He looks at you with a tinge of sadness and disappointment. “It’s too risky.”

“But we didn’t get caught,” you nudge him.

“Yeah, but what if we did?” His voice raises slightly, catching you off guard.

“That was in your house where there was a party happening and anyone could’ve seen us. That was so reckless, ____. And I’m so stupid that I let it happen.”

“You make it sound like it was such a terrible thing,” you say softly.

Jungkook’s heart breaks a little at the sight of your sullen face, looking down on the ground to avoid his glare. He wants to comfort you but he can’t bring himself to, given all the noise in his mind.

“Your father was right there. He could’ve found out!” He cries out in frustration, surprising you and himself.

“So what if he finds out?” You respond, your tone getting higher as well. “I’ll tell him the truth then, that you’re my boyfriend and I want to be with you. What can he do? Exile me? Disown me? You and I can make it work; we said we would. We can run away together somewhere if we need to.”

“Then what about me?” His face hardens. “It’s easy for you because you have the money to make it work. I don’t. What if the agency finds out? What if your dad gets angry at me? He trusts me enough already and this is just breaking it.”

“So what, suddenly it’s a mistake that we’re together?” You say, in shock at the implications of his words.

“That’s not what I meant, I just… It’s different for you, okay? I can lose everything.”

“But it’s okay if you lose me?”

The silence that follows causes your heart to slowly crack.

“You’re not getting it, ___,” he huffs. “This job means a lot to me. And there are still rules I have to follow and that—”

“But things are different now, Jungkook,” you argue.

“There are options for you. I know it seemed like this was your only choice then because you had your plans. But you have more freedom now to do whatever you want and not be tied down to a job that’s very demanding and takes up too much of your time, I mean, you don’t have to worry about providing for me and—”

“What do you mean, I don’t have to worry? And what, expect you to take care of everything? To take care of me? And be reminded of what I’m not? Of what I can’t give you?”

“That’s not it. I just meant— I don’t need you to do all that. This isn’t about what you think you don’t have. That doesn’t matter.”

“___, you talk about a weekend getaway to the mountains or a vacation on some island like I can afford it, like I can afford to take weeks off from work and not suffer the consequences,” Jungkook scoffs.

“I can’t even take you to a fancy restaurant for a date or buy you jewelry that isn’t made from diamonds or whatever expensive gem you’re used to wearing. I get it. You’re rich, I’m not. And that sucks. But you could at least respect me and my job, that I don’t wanna break any more rules than I already am by being with you just so I won’t lose what’s paying me enough to be able to date you.”

You hold his gaze, your sad eyes mirroring his. There’s more you want to say but you don’t know what or how to say them. You let the silence envelope him, knowing that the cool night’s breeze is probably what he prefers over you right now.

His head drops. “I’m pretty tired. I just wanna sleep. You can join me if you like.”

You know when you’re not wanted. And tonight you aren’t.

“It’s okay, I’ll head home. Go get some rest,” you softly say.

“Goodnight,” he hums as he starts backing away.

“Goodnight.” You enter the car and head home.

You awake the next morning to a text that you probably should’ve expected.

[From: Jungkook 💞] Can I pass today? Will help Jin with some repairs at the gym

[To: Jungkook 💞] Sure. I’ll just see you around.

[From: Jungkook 💞] Ok

You don’t see or hear from Jungkook for the rest of the week.

Jungkook grunts as he releases the bar, the pain in his arms and shoulders now starting to be too much. But he pushes through though, moving to another equipment and lifting his maximum weight as if he hasn’t been doing this all night.

It’s Saturday, exactly a week since your little argument that Jin is convinced can easily be fixed if you both just talked.

It’s also the last time Jungkook had seen you, given your father’s busy schedule. You messaged him on Monday and Tuesday but Jungkook didn’t get to reply, until you stopped messaging altogether, perhaps giving him the space he’d silently asked for.

His mind has been all over the place, and it’s Jin who helped him realize that it has been since the moment you two got together. It wasn’t until you both came down from the immediate high that things had become clearer to Jungkook - his place, his role, not just in your life but in life in general.

It was a bitter pill to swallow but one he forced himself to. But even then, he’s unable to shake off the resigned look on your face that night and how much he wanted to just hug you but he didn’t feel he could, knowing his heart was breaking because of you, even if it wasn’t even your fault.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” Jin says from next to him.

“My grip is fine.”

“Not this,” his friend chuckles, motioning to the weights. “I meant your relationship. You’re too hard on yourself, always have been.”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be able to claim anything for myself,” Jungkook replies, preparing to go another set. “People like me aren’t handed things in this world. I had to learn to fight for them.”

“Then why aren’t you fighting for her? Why can’t you fight your insecurities and your worries and your past to be with her? Why do those always come first?”

Jungkook sits up on the bench and tries to catch his breath, letting Jin’s words settle, the questions ringing in his head, trying to find some answers.

His silence signals that he doesn’t have them, so Jin throws him a towel and gestures towards the shower.

“Call it a night, Kook, then call her. You need to talk things out.”

The gym smells like sweat and the musky scent of the place catches you off guard. You were here last week and had only caught Jin closing up but tonight, the lights are all on, despite it being past closing hours, so you know Jungkook is here, or at least, hadn’t been gone too long if he isn’t.

The sound of your heels against the cement floor prompts the gym owner to turn around and greet you with a smile.

“Hey, it’s nice to see you again,” he says.

“Hi, Jin. I hope I’m not being a creep or like, desperate,” you smile shyly.

“Nah, you’re good, ____. My friend just needs a bit of a push. He’s kind of an idiot sometimes.”

“I should’ve been more understanding or tried to see things from his perspective,” you sigh, knowing that at the end of the day, you’d failed to be mindful, focusing only on your wants and needs.

“I’ll just apologize on his behalf,” Jin offers. “He hasn’t been in a relationship for over a decade so… he’s kinda rusty.”

You’re about to respond when you hear the locker doors close and heavy footsteps dragging against the floor. You turn and see Jungkook, clad in shorts and a sweatshirt, damp hair covering his droopy eyes that’s visible from several feet away.

He stops and stares at you dressed in your favorite skirt and blazer ensemble, looking beautiful and completely out of place, and a huff escapes his lips.

You slowly walk towards him and place your bag on the floor.

You take in his tired and almost defeated look and all you want is to forget what happened so you could hold him again.

You softly kiss his cheek and let it linger, missing the way his skin feels against your lips.

His heart throbs even more at the act, the remnants of the past week’s emotions and emptiness causing him to give in. He gingerly places his hand on your back and nudges you closer, prompting you to lay your head on his chest and it’s when his arms wrap around you that you release a sigh, and it feels as if you’ve been holding your breath the entire week without him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, inhaling the scent you seem to miss everyday.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he kisses your forehead, falling into your touch as if last week hadn’t happened, knowing that right now, this is what he needs. “I missed you so much.”

Another week goes by and you should’ve expected that Jungkook would just move on from what had happened without really talking about it. His looks are longing, almost apologetic and his smiles are lingering but you let them comfort you instead of worry you.

But neither of those are present when you make it to work on Monday morning and enter your father’s office, with Jungkook seated on the chair and your father prompting you to sit on the other.

“Something’s come to my attention and it’s a matter that needs to be discussed,” he says, his tone undecipherable.

You look at Jungkook from across you, seeking solace and wanting to give encouragement as well. But his anxiety overtakes him and try as you might to hold his gaze, he turns away, unable to look at you.

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

Alpha Forest (Part 2)

Summary: Dean and the reader are in the thick of it but they manage to make a deal with the Alphas they run into to get them all out of Alpha Forest. But back at home things might not be that simple and the reader’s decision to side with Dean might send them right back into the forest...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodygaurd!Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader

Square: Bodyguard!AU

Word Count: 4,600ish

Warnings: language, near death situations, violence, family angst

A/N: Not sure if I will continue with this series or will pick it up and go as I want at the moment. Enjoy! Also written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo

_____

Dean was holding you tightly, lapping at your neck to ease the pain when you both turned to catch sight of three Alphas approaching you.

“Omega’s already claimed,” said one, his nose twitching.

“So,” said the taller one. Dean spun around and snarled. Even injured and weaponless he was still dangerous. You felt his anger in your veins, the fear surrounding it. You grabbed onto the back of his shirt and swallowed. “Relax. How the hell did you get an Omega in here anyways?”

“They must have been in that plane crash,” said another and you realized they didn’t know it was a fresh bond.

“Look at their clothes. They look expensive,” said the first one and you swallowed.

“Get us to the gate and-”

“And what? You think they’re gonna let us out?”

“My family is powerful,” you said, carefully poking your head out from behind Dean. “If you get us to the gate and we get out of here alive, I’ll have it arranged that you three get out of here and back into the real world.”

“Alright. We’ll take them to the gate. If you’re lying, we’ll kill you both.”

“It’s okay Ms. Y/L/N,” said the dozen or so guards with their guns aimed when the door to the gate opened. You looked back at Dean and he nodded.

“You got three hours,” said one of the Alphas. “Or he’s dead.”

“Yeah I got the memo. Dean-”

“It’s okay,” he said.

“I’ll be back.”

“Hey,” said Dean late that night. You turned from staring out the bedroom window, Dean forcing a smile as he stepped in wearing his pajamas.

“I’ve never seen you outside of a suit. How are you feeling?” you asked.

“Like you saved my life more than once today,” he said. “Y/N those three-”

“Are under heavy surveillance and they will be tossed back in the Alpha Forest as soon as possible. Most likely tonight. Alpha’s like that aren’t meant to be out in the real world.”

“Shove them in the giant ass prison again,” he said. You nodded, walking over to him and resting a gentle hand on his ribs. “I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt. They hurt you after I left too.”

“I’m a bodyguard. I can handle a few hits.” You took a deep breath, watching a guard go past in the hallway. “Security team will make sure nothing happens to you until we can get back to your parents house.”

“You trust these people?”

“They’re my people so yes, I trust them.” You dropped your hand and shut the door, taking hold of his hand. “Someone tried to kill you and guarantee you’d never be found even if you somehow survived. Us flying over Alpha Forest at that exact moment was planned.”

“I’d be dead or in the process of dying right now if you hadn’t claimed me.”

“You saved my life. You saved both of our lives.”

“You were forced to claim me.”

“I protect you. It is what I’ve done for the past six months and is my job. When it comes to either letting those Alphas have you and hurt you before they killed you or me claiming you, I pick claiming you every time. I am more than sure you will be able to find a mate that understands the situation.”

“Dean. You are my mate. There is no changing that now.”

“I will always protect you Y/N. I will find out who was behind this and tried to kill you. But you do not have to be my mate. You were the one that had no choice. Whoever you choose though will simply have to get used to my presence.”

“Because you can’t leave me. Because you’re my mate Winchester.” He turned around but let himself lace his fingers together with yours. “Dean.”

“You will never fly over Alpha Forest again. You will never be within two hours of it ever again. Tomorrow we are driving to your parents and you will stay there until the culprit is caught and thrown in that goddamn prison themselves. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you said. He started to leave but you squeezed his hand. “You’ve always been kind to me but distant, sometimes even a bit cold, like I annoy you. Why?”

“Because I liked you,” he said, keeping his back to you.

“I did sort of save you free falling in mid air. It might be a safe assumption to say I like you too.”

“Y/N. When this is over, we can talk. But I need to make sure you never wind up in a place like that again and I can’t concentrate if I’m thinking about this.”

“Okay.” You let his hand drop and went over to the bed, Dean catching your wrist. You looked up at him, his other hand thumbing over your mark.

“I’m gonna have to be stricter with rules,” he said.

“Whatever,” you said. He cocked his head, pressing his chest up against yours.

“We’ll talk about this. I promise.”

“Y/N,” said Dean as you pulled into your parents' gated home. “You’ve been reading that blog the whole drive.”

“I’m learning about Alpha Forest. Did you know it’s been around for over forty years? Every year an unknown number of Alphas are sent there. No one knows what goes on in there. They drop food in air drops and let them fight among themselves.”

“I’d always heard that only the most violent Alphas survived there. I mean it’s a hundred square miles of dense forest meant for them to kill each other off,” he said, reaching over in the backseat and taking the phone out of your hands. “I don’t want you looking at this anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so. Just hang out and let me take care of this,” he said, the driver coming to a stop. He hopped out and put your phone in his pocket, Dean closing the door by the time you undid your seatbelt. You sighed and got out, walking up to the front door ahead of him and stepping inside.

“Y/N! Are you alright?” asked your mom. You hummed, getting a quick hug from her, your dad quickly walking in. You got one from him as well and turned around just in time to catch Dean walk in.

“Mrs-” he said before she slapped him in the face. Hard.

“What is wrong with you!” You rushed over, Dean forcing open his eye, ignoring how she’d cut open the gash on his cheek. You stood in front of him, Dean trying to step aside. “Mom!”

“He is supposed to protect you! You nearly died yesterday! Worst of all now you’re mated to him!”

“He’s the only reason I’m alive,” you snarled. You grabbed Dean’s hand and started to leave, your dad clearing his throat.

“Everyone calm down. Let’s-”

“We’re staying in the guest house. Touch him again and find out what happens,” you said. Dean shockingly didn’t put up a fight as you dragged him behind you over to the smaller guest house, still plenty large on it’s own.

It wasn’t until you were inside that you saw the fresh blood running down his face and staining the collar of his shirt.

“Come here,” you said, tugging him along to the master bathroom and pulling out the first aid kit, carefully cleaning his cut and avoiding his eye. “I’m so sorry she did that.”

“It’s fine. She’s right,” he said while you dabbed the cotton over the blood, soaking it up.

“No she wasn’t. She’s...I don’t care if you’re my mate or not. You saved my life. If she can’t see that then she’s an idiot that I really don’t want to speak to for the foreseeable future.”

“Y/N,” you heard from downstairs. Your eye twitched and Dean caught your wrist.

“Calm Omega,” he said, his voice smooth, a heavy cozy feeling settling around you. He let you finish with a fresh butterfly bandage before he went out first, you right on his heels. He took a deep breath as he got to the balcony, your father down in the foyer. “Mr. Y/L/N. Y/N will be perfectly safe in the guest house. Security is for all buildings on the estate.”

“I didn’t come about that,” he said. Dean glanced at you and you went downstairs, Dean carefully following. “You’re Y/N’s mate.”

“It was necessary,” said Dean.

“You still have a duty to protect her. Although I expect that will be more like second nature now,” he said.

“If you’re questioning whether our mating will impact my ability to do my job I can assure you that Y/N’s safety is still my number one priority,” said Dean. You took Dean’s scuffed up hand and looked to your dad.

“I don’t want to see mom unless she’s willing to apologize to Dean.” You crossed your arms and your dad nodded.

“Mr. Y/L/N I spoke with your protection team and I highly recommend you and Mrs. Y/L/N stay at the house until we determine that you both are safe as well. We can’t be sure Y/N was the target considering it was your plane,” said Dean.

“Your only job is take care of her, understand? My security will investigate, not you. You nearly got her killed because you were lazy. People died. If you two weren’t claimed I would have left you in there.”

“Get out,” you growled. “And don’t come back.”

You slammed the door shut after him, whole body shaking. Dean touched your shoulder and you forced a deep breath.

“Why are they acting like this? They’ve always been nothing but kind to you,” you said.

“I have a hunch.”

“That they did it and set you up as the fall guy?” You turned around, Dean’s face neutral. “Why would they use up favors to help get you out then?”

“Too many witnesses. Think of how many guards are around Alpha Forest. Everyone knows how powerful your family is and knows they could pull strings to get me out when I was right on the other side of that gate.”

“Or we’re assuming things.”

“That’s possible.”

“But.”

“But I did a thorough sweep of the plane. The only person to get on the plane and then back off after I did so was your dad. I’m pretty sure the back is what broke off and…”

“Stop acting like a bodyguard. What do your Alpha instincts tell you?”

“Your parents want you dead but they want it to look like an accident. Alpha Forest is a very convenient accident. But-”

“But I know my father met with his lawyer in charge of his will and trust last week and was very angry after. I also know he and mom have a son they gave up for adoption.”

“Blackmail?”

“I don’t think they want me around for the inheritance. In Alpha Forest...no one will ever find me. No one would even dare to look.”

“We need to leave,” he said. He grabbed your hand and pulled you outside, the two of you heading to the driveway when two guards on your father’s detail walked up the driveway. “Anderson.”

“Winchester.” You heard two more pairs of footsteps behind you and stepped closer to Dean. He looked over his shoulder and frowned. “I’m sorry. I tried to get you to fucking call out sick for that stupid plane ride.”

“The pay nice on that side of the table?” said Dean, eyes narrowing.

“If you hadn’t claimed her you’d be walking free. But you’re a problem now.”

“You can’t-”

“I’m sorry Y/N but it’s your parent’s money, not yours. Besides, we’re not gonna kill you.”

You and Dean shared a quick look and scowled.

“The fall might though.”

“Jump,” said Anderson a few hours later. You glared back at him and Dean got a gun in the back of the neck for it. “I said jump.”

“Why do I get a parachute and he doesn’t,” you asked.

“Because of this.” He pushed Dean and he fell out of the back of the plane, Anderson dropping the gun. “Your choice to jump.”

“Fuck you.” You jumped off and dove after Dean, grabbing hold of him, Dean hanging on tight. “Don’t let go!”

“No shit!” he shouted. He pulled the chute and held on, looking around. “Do you see the edge of the forest?”

“No. I don’t see a clearing this time either,” you said.

“Use the straps. Move us to the right a bit,” he said. You tugged on one and he grunted. “My right.”

He looked over his shoulder and you guided over towards some taller trees.

“This is gonna be rough,” he said. You ducked your head down and he wrapped an arm around his before you slammed into some branches, the chute getting caught.

You felt Dean slip and he managed to climb back and grab a branch, leaving you hanging there.

“Stay there,” he said, climbing up a few branches.

“Like I have nowhere to go. On the plus side we’re so high up no Alpha will bother-“ you said before you started to fall, grasping for a branch. You clung on tight, looking up to see Dean cutting the straps away from the chute. He wrapped it up in his arms, climbing back down and helping you over to the trunk of the tree. “Thanks for the warning.”

“You’re safe. We can use the chute, tie it up in the branches. We stay off the ground as much as possible. I go down, I get food and water until we figure out how the hell to get to the gate and try to convince the guards to let us out. I’m sure they’ll recognize us.”

“How’d you get a knife?”

“Nabbed it off Anderson,” he said, looking down at the ground a good forty feet down. “Tonight let’s just lay down and relax. Okay?”

“Alright,” you said quietly. “Let’s get the chute set up and…plan up ways to murder my parents if we ever get out of here.”

“I second that,” he grumbled.

Fifteen minutes later the parachute was tied off like a hammock between sturdy branches, Dean sitting down before holding out a hand, urging you to. You crawled over his lap and into the spot beside him, taking a deep breath.

“Stay up here and you’ll be safe. I’ll…I’ll figure a way out,” he said. You looked up, the sky darkening and turning cloudy. You sighed and rested your head on his shoulder, Dean taking hold of your hand into his lap. Neither of you spoke until it started to get too dark to see, Dean taking some of the rope and cable from the chute and tying it around your waists and then to the tree trunk so you wouldn’t fall.

“I can’t ever go down there,” you said quietly.

“No. Not for anything. It seems like we’re in a quiet spot. You’ll be okay here. I’ll figure out a way to get some water and-”

“We have no containers. I’ll have to use the bathroom. We’ll need food. More weapons than just that pocket knife. I can’t go down there but I can’t stay in this tree for more than a day. We have to risk me going down.”

“I know. I just don’t want you to worry about the shit we’re in,” he said softly. You turned your head up, kissing over the gland in his neck. “Y/N.”

“You’re my mate and you’re still hurt from yesterday. Shut up and let me make you feel better,” you said. He lay down and you joined him, feeling a bit more secure with the rope around your waist. You went back to kissing his neck, Dean running his thumb over your still healing mark. Little calming waves shot through you, Dean certainly feeling the same effects in himself.

“When we get out of here, we have to go to someone you trust. Someone your parents can’t pay off.”

“Uncle Bobby,” you breathed out, nuzzling into his touch. “He’s got just as much money as dad but he loves me.”

“He’s not your real uncle though.”

“I know he’ll protect me. He was the one freaking out on the news when the plane crashed, not my parents. God I can’t believe…”

“Forget about them. Right now it’s just us we have to worry about. We get out, we get to Bobby and we tell them what happened.”

“You make it sound like we’ll live through tomorrow,” you said quietly. “The second the Alpha’s catch my scent-”

“Maybe we’ll run into more people that want to make a deal. They didn’t want to outright kill us last time.”

“Maybe. There has to be at least one good Alpha in here right? Maybe one that was bad but redeemed themselves?” you asked.

“I sure as shit hope so,” he said, a large snap making both of you turn your heads to watch one of the branches you were tied off to crack. The chute went lax and you both fell, ropes around you leaving you dangling. Until the top of the tree started to lean and you were falling slowly. “Untie, untie, untie.”

You barely slipped out of the rope before the whole thing went down fast. A large thud on the ground and groan sent you scrambling down, Dean holding his ribs again, laying on the dirt with squeezed closed eyes.

“Are you okay?” you asked, Dean’s face relaxing but he didn’t open his eyes. “Dean.”

You shook his shoulder, Dean mumbling but not waking up. Hairs stood up on the back of your neck when you saw flames flicker in the distance.

“Dean,” you whispered, shoving him harder. “Wake up. We have to go. Dean.”

You looked around, jolting backwards when suddenly there were four Alphas in front of you. One held a lit torch, another a flashlight. You knew Dean would kill you if you didn’t at least try to make a break for it. But one quick turn showed another six Alphas behind you and you swallowed.

“Take them,” said the one with the flashlight. Hands were on you fast, picking you up, ignoring your grunts and groans. A few took off with you following the man with the flashlight, others staying back with Dean.

“Hurt him and the last thing I ever do will be to kill you,” you growled. No one seemed phased though and after a moment you were walking through a makeshift gate, eyes narrowed when you walked into what looked like a campsite, a large bonfire in the middle. The flashlight man nodded and they released you by a bench near the center, Dean coming in being carried by two men a few moments later and straight into a tent, flashlight man following them inside.

You clenched your fists as you spotted a good hundred Alphas in there, all of them staring at you.

“What are you deranged animals waiting for,” you snapped. The man with the flashlight exited and walked over to you, careful to keep his distance. “You in charge? I’m-”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Heiress to Blackwater Fortunes. I’m guessing by the fact you and your mate are in here that you had a falling out with your old man.”

“You’re a criminal,” you said. “All of you are the worst Alphas in existence. Prison’s too good for you.”

“It ain’t as bad as it looks. Your mate is injured. Our doctor is tending to him but-”

“You don’t have a doctor,” you growled. The man took a step closer, staring you down.

“Don’t blame you. I know what I thought of this place when I got dumped in here. Every Alpha you see here had the same reaction. That is until you realize what this place actually is. You figure it out yet?”

“You’re-”

“Enemies of Blackwater Fortunes. More specifically your father. Some here knew your grandfather but not many anymore. At least the tradition won’t continue.”

“My father has an illegitimate Alpha son,” you said.

“We know. That’s what Brian over there is in for. Tried to break the news,” he said. You saw a guy in a flannel shirt a ways off give a half wave. “You’re lucky we found you and not the guards.”

“The guards?”

“They come at night. Don’t want to be caught out. Never ends well.”

“You’re probably a murderer. I shouldn’t-”

“I slept with his wife,” he said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes and he reached out a hand. His scent drifted over and through the fire you smelled...you swallowed, lifting your chin. “Not a common scent, is it?”

“How’d you know my name,” you asked quietly.

“Because I named you.” You looked him up and down, the dim lighting making it hard to tell but there was something familiar about him. “You have a mole on your left butt cheek.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“If I’m not being glaringly obvious, I’m your father. I slept with your mother when she tried to leave him. He was a little more powerful than I thought. Sue me.”

“My mother put me in here just as much as he did.”

“Maybe not by choice. Don’t write her off yet.” You rolled your eyes, heading for the tent. “Y/N.”

“If y’all ain’t gonna attack me or hurt me I want to see my mate,” you said. You didn’t wait for an answer and went into the tent Dean was in, a small lantern on in there as a man wrapped up a now conscious Dean’s ribs.

“Y/N if these people are trying to kill us they got a funny way of showing it,” winced Dean as the bandage was tucked in.

“He’ll be alright,” said the man with a friendly enough smile. “He needs to rest though. We’ll get him in one of the tents with an air mattress for the night.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you said, the man excusing himself, your supposed father walking in instead.

“You two can stay in my tent. I’m assuming you haven’t eaten yet today.” You stared him down and he rolled his eyes, tossing a can of beans in the air, Dean catching it. “You each get half. Hope you like beans.”

“She hates them,” groaned Dean.

“Don’t we all. By the way, I'm Billy. Y/N’s dad by the way. Guess that makes us family.”

“You are not my father,” you said.

“You would rather have a psychopath for a father than the guy who saved your life?”

“You didn’t save jack shit,” you said. Billy looked at Dean as he sat up, grabbing your shoulder.

“She’s...feisty,” said Dean. “Dean Winchester. Her bodyguard and recently mate.”

“The mark’s still fresh. That a we think we’re gonna die decision?” he asked.

“Billy,” said Dean, getting to his feet and reaching for his dress shirt. You helped him into it, Dean throwing an arm over your shoulders. “I’m going to assume the fact I ain’t dead and she ain’t dead that maybe you’re not a bad guy. But there are bad guys in this forest and we met some of them yesterday so yes, I claimed her to save her life. Anybody in this forest that touches her without her permission, any single one of them...I don’t need a gun to kill someone is all I’m saying.”

“Good. We need more fighters,” he said, leaving the tent.

“Do you really think he’s my dad?” you asked, walking out with Dean.

“He’s got your bitch face. And nose. But at least things make a little more sense. Plus, hey we’re not gonna die tonight most likely. We’re doing better than expected,” he said, handing you the can of beans.

“I think that’s the concussion talking.”

“Probably,” he said, the other Alphas dispersing around the campsite. You looked around, Billy waving you over to a decently new looking tent. “Where the hell did you guys get this crap?”

“Airdrop comes once a week. Sometimes we get the stuff. Sometimes somebody else does. That’s who I’m guessing you ran into yesterday. Not a big group of Alphas but still dangerous. They’re violent. We’re violent only if we have to be. Both of you understand?”

“Whatever,” you said, Billy holding out a spoon he pulled from his pocket. Dean took it and you sighed.

“It’s safe in here. But she can’t leave this camp until it’s safe out there too. They won’t care that she’s claimed.”

“How many are out there?” asked Dean.

“Seventeen.”

“You have to have close to a hundred guys here. Why don’t you go after them?” asked Dean.

“Because four of them are his former private security and the rest are young and strong. Look around. We have numbers and yeah some of our guys can put up a fight but not against guys like that. We’ve tried to reason with them and it doesn’t work. We have an understanding. Airdrop comes and they get half a day to take what they want and we get what’s leftover,” said Billy.

“Then you can reason with them,” you said. You pursed your lips and looked at Dean. “Do you know the names of the former private security guys?”

“Halbrook, Norrian, Rutte and Jonson,” said Billy. Dean nodded as you did.

“Norrian was your private guard before me, wasn’t he,” said Dean.

“Billy, all four of those men were my private bodyguards. Rutte was mine for years as a kid. He taught me how to ride a bike,” you said.

“I think we have an opportunity here,” said Dean. Billy shook his head but you crossed your arms. “Tomorrow, when it’s daylight, we take as many men as we can and we go try to make peace. With Y/N.”

“Not happening.”

“Dean wouldn’t risk me getting hurt. Those men would have given their lives for mine. Something tells me they were more loyal to me than my father and that’s why they're here. If you can get everyone in here to work together, then we might have an actual chance of getting out.”

“All we need is to get Y/N out. If she can get to her Uncle Bobby, she can get us all out,” said Dean.

“That simple huh?” he said. “No way she leaves her unless I know it’s safe.”

“Just because you made her doesn’t make you her father,” shot back Dean.

“Guys stop. Dean, if you and Billy go, I think I have an idea of saying I’m with you without having to leave camp. My panic word. They’ll understand what it is and that if you know it, you’re my bodyguard.”

“Or they kill us on sight,” said Billy.

“It’s worth a shot,” said Dean. “Besides. How safe do you think she’ll be once her heat hits and she’s on no medication and some Alpha has a rut?”

“Fine. We leave at first light,” he said. “Y/N you are to stay here at my tent understand?”

“Whatever,” you said. He left and went off to speak with someone else, Dean letting out a sigh. “Well, tomorrow’s either going to go really well or really bad.”

“You have that much faith your previous bodyguards still care for you? Don’t blame you?”

“Do you blame me?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because...those feelings were there before I claimed you. Those men might not care.”

“They swore to protect my life. Give them the benefit of the doubt for me,” you said. “Tell them...tell them if they can help me get out then I can get to Bobby and I will have a chance at returning the favor.”

“Alright,” he said softly. He took your hand and smiled. “Dinner before I pass out?”

“Yeah. Whatever you want Alpha.”

______

A/N: Read the final part here!

#spn #supernatural #tell me a story bingo #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #spn fanfic #dean winchester x you #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester

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ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 3 years

Text

Stories of Paris

Part 4

Part One Part Three AO3

Masterlist

................................................................

Damian was unhappy with the fact that with ‘strangers’ in *his* house their nightly activities would have to carefully navigated. His father nor Pennyworth had not explicitly said anything about it, but he assumed it was because they all knew what was expected. So, being told to line up in the entrance hall by his father went down like a lead balloon.

His pout turned in widening eyes of shock as he witnessed the tall wiry young woman (and a large man he supposed) exiting the car. SHE was his father’s babysitter. This was who oversaw the European branch of W.E. The person who owned the largest portion of shares of W.E (after the Wayne family that is). He was doomed. Damain watched as his father soften as he saw the woman.

“Mari! You never seem to age!” he exclaimed as she gracefully walked up to him and into his embrace.

“Mon cherie! It’s miraculous isn’t it,” she drew back slightly to look over his shoulder, “I see you have taken found family comment to the extreme, but I suppose you were never one to do things in half measures. It’s good to be back here after so long”

Looking at her like he was a child with pleading eyes, “You are staying here, right?”

With a gentle smile with a smirking edge, “Yes. If I tried to leave for a hotel, I’ll end up having the shadows watching me all night. Plus, this place always did feel like my home away from home.”

Damian glancing at his supposed siblings to see that they were also in shock. Probably not for the same reason. Panicking with it all, as he saw his father turn to introduce them to the woman, Damian drew his katana and aimed it at her.

“YOU were fathers' babysitter!!! But... what... you’re younger than him!!!! .... You’re the Grand Lady Guardian... I *refuse* to return.”

Damian vaguely recognised his name being shouted at him, but all his attention was on the Grand Lady Guardian of the Miraculous who stood, rolling her eyes, before him. He could feel her power radiating off, surrounding them all.

“Petit Tresor. I’m not taking you back there. Did you not learn anything from my teachings? Did you not learn to read between the lines? About looking deeper than the surface. You are with *your* found family. THEY are what is important. Bruce may have picked up a lot of my unhealthy habits about vigilantism, but he made a point of understand a good support network and the importance of chosen family. Despite how he enacts the teachings.”

The Monkey with her came to her shoulder and raised his eyebrow at Damian. He finally understood why he was always her bodyguard now rather than the Cat, being that he was her husband.

“You can stand down Petit Tresor. League and Court business will *not* be found here. The League know what will happen if they cross the Court, and I made it very clear after our last encounter when they tried to manipulate us to their advantage.”

Damian assessed the woman before him as he withdrew his katana from her and starting to become aware of the others around him again.

“Why has he got a chaos shard within him Bruce?” The monkey growled looking at him with a dangerous glint in his eye.

Everyone in the entrance hall was frozen in shock and panic. What was meant to be a happy reunion had been derailed but now, suddenly, somehow gained an even sharper edge. Marinette and her husband were aware of their nightly capers, and they also knew of the League, they were involved in something similar and aware of chaos shards.

Damian watched as his father gulped as he looked at the Monkey and the Guardian. It wasn’t often his father showed fear, but it was clear on his face as she arched her eyebrow at him. His siblings all looked on in surprise and uncertain of what to expect. Only Pennyworth and Todd seemed to be handling the situation with any sense of calmness. Surprising for Todd...

“Mari... his mother... the league...”

At the mention of the league the Guardians eye twitch so subtly you’d hardly notice it if not trained and with a minute flicker of her hand, the Monkey flipped his phone out and was walking out back outside to call someone... Damian straining his ears heard Peg and plan 42c being mentioned by the Monkey to whoever he had called.

“They were warned. Tsk, Assassin’s bullheadedness. Kim will sort this out for me for the present moment and we will discuss healing at a later point. Anyway, mon cherie, you were about to introduce me to your children. Petit Tresor I know, and I believe that that is Jason, mon rêveur, in the background though he has grown so much since our last meeting. So, I could guess everyone else, but why don’t you continue?”

The Guardian stated as if the topic of what just happened was over, much to Damian’s surprise. He sheafed his katana but still was wary of the woman and slightly in awe. He had a feeling that the chaos and downfall of his grandfather may have due to her in some way. Slight fear and dread for his mother was building as well. He finally starting to understand the reason for her over protectiveness when she taught him in the league now.

“Right. Mari, this is Dick, Jason who you already met in person? Cass and alongside her Duke, Tim who you meet briefly in the W.E. meeting the other month, Steph who has wormed her way into the family and Damian you who’ve also already met?”

With a polite cough drawing attention to himself, Alfred spoke. “Perhaps, instead of having a mother’s meeting in the entrance hall, we retreat to the drawing room where we can have some refreshments. I am sure that Ms Marinette and Master Kim are exhausted from their travels. It is most unbecoming to stand around loitering, wouldn’t you agree Master Bruce?”

Bruce muttered something as his ears started to tinge red, Marinette turned to Alfred and smiled as she drew him into a hug while Bruce collected himself.

“Yes, right, that sounds like a fantastic idea Alfred. Mari, shall we?”

Bruce offered her an arm which she elegantly took as the took off in the direction of the drawing room delving into conversation with Bruce leaving behind a shocked collection on children in the hall. Alfred slipped off to prepare the refreshments.

Damian cringed as Dick exclaimed, “YOU GUYS KNOW HER?!?!?!!” which echoed around the manor as he finally processed what had just happened.

______________________________________________

Alfred smiled as the atmosphere within the Manor shifted over the last few weeks. It now had a different air about it. Master Bruce became less sullen and slightly less repressed under Marinette’s watch and the Manor started to feel lighter again.

Alfred had found great amusement when he stumbled in on Master Kim lecturing Master Bruce on being dense especially the “I know I’m dense but kwami Bruce! You’re worse than me realising all the competitions I got Mare rigged into was because I wanted to impress her! Let’s start at the beginning, ok?!”.

He hoped that Master Kim might be able to knock a bit of sense into his wayward charge. He knew Ms Marinette, though full of good intentions wouldn’t be able to with Master Bruce’s strange ability to pick up on the wrong message being given.

The highlight of the week was when he entered the family living room to find all his grandchildren looking pale as Master Bruce acted semi child-like in front of Ms Marinette. It was a delight to see Bruce act like the child that he knew he was reawakened again. Even if it terrified the grandchildren.

The whole family discovered that Bruce had been very selective of the stories and information that he had told them about Marinette. She had taken great delight telling them all about what teenage Bruce really was like.

About the time Bruce had a fan induced panic attack on meeting the Jagged Stone. Alfred was slightly aware of something happened but not the details.

About the time Bruce decided to practice parkour in the Manor gardens and ended up stuck halfway up the side of the Manor unable to climb up further or climb down. Alfed was positive he was unaware that Marinette joined him and had to coach Bruce down.

About the series of times that Bruce attempted to prove to Alfred that he had ‘outgrown the kitchen ban’ and had ‘observed Mari’s baking skills sufficiently’ to be able to try again for only the attempts to go south fast. Alfred grimaced at the memories that that bought up. He was glad that he’d got a good working deal with local kitchen fitters and suppliers given the number of fires.

It became a daily breakfast occurrence that Bruce mortified Marinette in his outfit for the day. The breakfast entertainment became watching Marinette tear into his fashion choice of the day, drag up some past clothing or costume disaster. She ended up moaning that he had learnt nothing from her rantings about clothes over the years and stare forlornly into her coffee cup. It was providing the bat boys a wealth of black mail material that Alfred had to on numerous occasions reel Marinette from her tangents.

The only time he let her completely go to town with was letting her regale to everyone about Bruce’s dramatic and insistent argument on fighting crime in Lyca, wearing pants on top of tights and with a cape, that he really insisted that he didn’t need to use Kevlar (that decision didn’t last beyond a few training sessions and one patrol night). Alfred was pleased with her ability to rein that disaster in quickly.

It was in the comfort of the kitchen away from the antics that happened Alfred mused and reflected on his notional niece's visit. Alfred wished he had thought to bring Marinette over sooner as he witnessed that fraught relationships between the Waynes soften. Issues didn’t disappear but Marinettes presence, and ability due to dealing with Akuma, helped mitigate situations which typically would have blown up. Kim always by her side would help soothe, distract, or explain to the puzzled Bruce the techniques Marinette was using to stop the escalation.

She’d slowly began charming and connecting with his grandchildren. Be it by giving Tim pointers on how to manage W.E board members effectively and playing video games. It was eerily like how she warmed Bruce up to her.

By Sitting quietly reading with Jason or playing chess and talking in metaphors about life, death and balance. Slowly having ‘healing sessions to calm the pit madness’ with meditation and grounding sessions.

With Damian she seemed to remind him of alternate grounding techniques which she’d shown him in the league. They seemed to spend time talking in hushed whispers about other stuff that Alfred wasn’t currently privy too.

Duke was with poetry and music. Cass with dance and gymnastics, silent subtle conversations occurred but seeing Cass smile and edge towards being more tactile made Alfred glow with warmth inside. Steph and Marinette commanded the kitchen numerous times baking pastries, waffles and other treats.

Dick took the longest to warm up to the woman, having heard and known about her for over a deacade but never met it was understandable. Alfred wpould never knew what Marinette had done but one day the hostility and coldness disappeared. A joy, childlike smile appeared on Dicks face every time she was in the room, and he’d follow her round like a loat puppy. Watching and mimicking her techniques to calm his brothers down.

How his grandchildren acted with Marinette in the activities brought echoes of memories of her with Bruce to the forefront of Alfred’s mind.

Sighing, in the short time the Manor felt warm and like a family, a home should feel like. Much like before his friends’ death. Schooling his emotions, Alfred set about to serve the family and Parisians last dinner together.

______________________________________________

Bruce tried not to sulk. Tried not to revert to the mind set of when Marinette originally disappeared physically from his life. Especially in front of his children but it was hard. She somehow always managed to take the overwhelming pressure away from him, like he could breathe and be.

Alfred was his father, in all the ways that counted, but the burden of death and saving the world was something Marinette understood at a deeper more personal level. Having her here made it feel safe to feel, that he would always be caught. That she would save him from the consuming darkness. She was the light in the world shining out in the Gotham gloom.

As expected, his children adored her in their unique ways. Following her around like little ducks scrabbling for crumbs of knowledge and titbits of information. Bruce lips twitched as he witnessed them behaving much like he used to. Taking the gems’ she passed on to them and ferreting them away much like he did.

“Master Bruce, I expect better behaviour this leaving gathering than our previous party, please.”

With Alfred’s comments Bruce gave into the feeling of pouting. Why deny how he felt toward the situation where he wasn’t in control. He pointedly ignored the stares that his children were giving him. Again.

“Mon tresor! It’s not like you aren’t going to see or speak to me again. We speak regularly as it is. It’s not the same as it was last time. You know this.”

“But Mari, it's nice having you here. This is your home.”

“Is he always like this Mare, Cupcake? How is it that all the kid’s you’ve looked after end up demanding you live with them?”

Bruce choked at Kim’s statement and the Wayne clan burst into laughter. Alfred let a small smirk grace his face.

“Oui, Mon Amour, He wasn’t happy last time I left at all. Be grateful I learnt to resist kitten eyes or we’d never have reconnected. Manon doesn’t count. She’s practically family as well with how close Maman and Nadja are.”

“What about Elle, Etta and Chris? What about Ivan’s and Mylene’s sproglian? Fang? Jagged’s second round of terrors? Luka and Jules too really.”

“Hush, Mon Amour, circumstantial evidence.”

Bruce observed Kim stare at his wife in disbelief before waving his hand around the room.

“What about these then. Don’t give me that look Cupcake. I’m gonna end up needing to fight the whole batclan at this rate to get you on a plane with me! Maybe I should give Peg’s the heads up that I’ll need his help.”

“I can assure you Master Kim that you *both* are free to leave. The young master's understand that they cannot kidnap you. It would not be becoming of them OR look good for the company for the family to kidnap its own workers.”

Bruce and his family guiltily ducked their heads at Alfred’s comments. When Alfred turned away to start talking to Kim, Tim leant in close to Bruce to whisper to him.

“Do you think we have the power to move her to being director of North America rather than Europe? Mari would be closer then? Plus, the guy in charge isn’t all he’s cracked up to be so the board would likely approve it.”

Bruce stared at his son at the ingenious and simple solution and smiled, before ducking his head when Alfred pointedly looked his way.

“We’ll discuss that concept later.”

Bruce gave Tim a subtle nod as if he was approving the idea. Technically he was but Alfred didn’t need to know that. Nor did Kim really, as he would fight him if he found out and he’d rather not deal with an ex-olympian superhero, even when he pulled his punches they hurt far more than the average persons.

Bruce sat back into his seat and smiled as the conversation and chaos flowed around him. His whole family finally together and he cherished it. He knew it wasn’t going to last much longer with the impending flight looming but for now he had a potential and creative plan to work on. If he framed it right it could also become the prefect family bonding activity that both Marinette and Kim thought he needed to do more of outside of vigilantism. And if the end result was that she moved closer, well, that’s just an added bonus in his eyes.

With that in mind, Bruce joined in with the choas enjoying the moment with his complete family. Nothing could take this away from him.

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@neakco @corporeal-terrestrial @jayjayspixiepop @lady-bee-fechin @prettylittlebutterflie

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Note

First of all, congrats for 700 folls 🥰

Here is my request :

Geto x fem! Reader + cooking + 13 and 29

Thank you❤

OOOH LAWD

Thank you bby for being amazing. I love love love you!

People Like Us: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.5k tw: NSFW 700 Follower Event Masterlist

You're running down the stairs in your nightgown, the pop pop pop of gunfire calling you out of your sleep.

"Boss!" Your bodyguard comes running toward you at full speed, hands raised. "Don't come down here; it's--"

"The Geto clan," you finish for him, slipping on your houseshoes and padding to the front door. "I know what they want." You throw open the doors and look down at the standoff, shaking your head. Why couldn't they just leave you alone at one in the morning? "The fuck do you want?" you call down to the man standing against the black Benz, hands in his pockets. Toji Fushiguro, the Geto clan's head bodyguard smirks at you.

"Finally caught you off guard."

"If this is about going to the Mayor's Ball, I don't want to go," you answer, crossing your arms. "Not with your boss, at least."

"So you're really going to take your little plaything to the biggest function in our city?"

"Who said I would be taking Itadori anywhere?" you retort just as the younger man appears, rubbing his eyes.

"What's going on?" he murmurs, and you wave him off before he can be seen by Toji. But you're much too late, and you hear the anger in the bodyguard's voice as he shouts slurs at the young man.

"You're only a fucktoy, you know that? Y/n only uses you because you're a placeholder for my boss, so you can't compare yourself to--" You turn to Itadori as Toji continues his tirade, rolling your eyes.

"Did he say 'fucktoy'?"

"Just... go back inside. He literally has no idea why you're here, so he assumes I'm sleeping with you." Yuji laughs a little, then turns around to trudge back to his room.

"Night, Ms. L/N."

"Night."

"Hey!" Toji yells, and you sigh before looking over your shoulder. “You get down here right now, fucktoy! Don’t make me come up there!”

"Can you go home?" you wonder, frowning. "I'm surprised your boss sends his worst dog to try and romance me on his behalf."

"Worst dog? I--" Toji pauses, and you take this opportunity to walk back into your mansion, your bodyguard closing the doors behind you. "I came here of my own volition!"

_____________________________________________________________

All eyes are on you tonight.

Your emerald green dress and million-dollar jewels attract the light and the eyes of everyone in your vicinity, and you smile like you were taught to at functions like this.

"Smile," your mother used to say. "Smile because every single person in here wants something you have."

"Ms. L/N, your table is right here."

You're led to a table covered in gold and black decor, and after sitting your virtually empty purse besides your plate, you look over at the growing crowd. No sign of Suguru, you think, a ghost of disappointment tinging your thoughts.

Maybe if he hadn't been so persistent, you would have given his offer serious consideration. But after the flowers, the chocolates, Toji...

"Alone at last." The voice behind you makes you stiffen, and you feel a palm rest on your back. Thank god.

"I'm never truly alone," you retort, looking up at Suguru Geto. He's dressed in a tailored suit, and his long hair is tucked into a bun, as always. He smiles at you gently, then takes the empty seat next to you.

"Stunning," he mentions, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. "Valentina?" Your designer?

"Pucciano," you correct him, and he nods, biting his lower lip as he surveys the rest of your appearance. "You appeared like a ghost."

"I was conversing with Satoru." He thumbs over to the man, who is overcome by a throng of women. "But it seems that he's a little busy right now."

"No one wants to flirt with poor Su?" You offer him a fake pout, and he chuckles.

"Ah, not quite."

"A shame. Your bodyguard is a piece of work, by the way," you add, rolling your eyes. Suguru's smile drops instantly.

"Who? Toji?" he wonders, disbelief in his tone.

"Little fucker came to my mansion three nights ago and called my sister's adopted son a 'fucktoy'."

"He called Itadori a fucktoy?"

"Yeah," you grumble, reaching for the flute of champagne and downing it. "It was insulting. He also wanted me to come as your date."

"He--" Suguru groans, shaking his head. "I'll handle it."

"Don't worry," you assure him, standing from your seat. "I'm sure he's already repentant for his actions. How's his nose?" You wink at Suguru before walking away, hoping he caught the sway of your hips as the crowd of women around Gojo parts for you.

"Satoru..." you murmur, stretching an arm out and pulling him in for a hug. "You smell like you've washed recently."

"Shut the fuck up, little girl," Satoru warns through his teeth. "Trying to score a jackpot tonight, and I won't have you ruining my chances," he mutters low in your ear. "Why don't you go back to your boyfriend and leave me be?"

"Why would I do that when I can mess with you?" you frown, waving your hand over your nose and looking at the other women. "I recommend you change your Depends before you go back to flirting. Either that, or it's your breath." A few girls make a face, and you smile at him before patting his shoulder. "Anyway, have fun tonight."

_____________________________________________________________

Five orchestral songs and three glasses of champagne in, and you're staring wistfully at the door, bored to death of the men and women around you discussing trivial matters. Every so often, you'll catch Suguru looking over at you from his table with Gojo, but after a while, you think that it's best not to look his way anymore. Of course, you can't help being attracted to him, but so were other women.

And other women weren't rival gang leaders.

In the middle of a tango - where other couples have gotten up to dance and mingle - you decide to get up and leave. You hate these functions anyway.

"I'm fine," you tell yourself as you descend the red-carpeted stairs to the foyer. "It's fine."

"Where are you going?"

For the second time tonight, Suguru's voice rings out behind you, but this time you don't stop to turn around.

"Home. I'm not feeling well." Suguru catches up with you, his eyes lingering on your displeased face.

"Let me get my driver to take you home, then." You scoff, sliding your phone out of your bag.

"Interesting headline: Rival Gang Boss Has Driver Take Rival Boss Home." You shrug, hearing the dial tone of the phone ringing. "It would sell a few magazines, for sure."

"At least let me wait with you while your driver arrives."

"Why are you so nice?" you wonder, whipping around to face him head-on. "We weren't raised to like each other, Suguru."

"The old heads are dead," he answers, raising his chin defiantly. "And I'm not in the business of being deceitful to someone I consider my equal." You shake your head as the voicemail for your driver picks up, clenching your jaw.

"That's not how things work for people like us, Su."

"Who said?" he whispers, taking your hand and bringing it up to his lips. "Tell me, y/n. Who said so?" When Suguru pulls you in close, you can't help but let your lips crash into his. The kiss itself is raw and needy, but when your lips part, he takes advantage, deepening the kiss and holding your waist carefully, as if you would break.

Before long, you pull away from each other, panting heavily.

"Now, let me get my driver so I can take you home."

And if home meant your back would be flush against his bedroom wall, then Suguru didn't lie. But as he thrusts into you, lips capturing your earliest repeatedly and his tongue running down your neck, you know that the rules have been broken, and you were in big trouble.

"Su..." you moan, tugging on his black locks. "Su, we have to stop."

"Why?" he pants, stilling instantly. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," you whisper, and he frowns, his left hand running up to your jawline.

"Tell me what's wrong, y/n," Suguru breathes, and you lean into his neck, closing your eyes.

"It's just not what we're supposed to do," you whine. Hands slip from your legs, letting you down as the raven-haired boss steps back and pulls out.

"Who tells us what to do now?" he asks sternly, gripping your shoulders as you look into his eyes. "You can't let a dead woman's expectations rule your life, y/n. Do you like it when I touch you?"

"Yes," you reply immediately.

"Then forget everything else. None of that matters right now. Just let me make love to you tonight." With that, he leads you to the bed and lays you on your back, hovering over you before re-entering you with care.

"Fuck..." you exhale, eyes rolling back as he strokes your g-spot with his deadly-precise cock.

"That's it. Just relax," Suguru urges you and presses his lips to yours again. "Let me take good care of you tonight, alright? We'll decide what to do tomorrow."

"I don't want tomorrow to come," you whisper. Suguru chuckles, pushing into you over and over again. "Mmm, just... don't stop."

"Oh, I'm not planning on stopping any time soon, y/n. Not at all."

#geto suguru x reader #geto smut #jjk getou #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

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morganofthewildfire · 3 years

Text

Back to my Side - Part 4

Masterlist

Based on Dorothea by Taylor Swift

- 2500 words

CW: mentions of sexual assault

———————————————————————

Like promised, Aelin called him the next day, inviting him to lunch to continue their planning from the day before. Rowan had been prepared to deal with the bodyguards and the paparazzi and the chaos that came from being out with a movie star, but apparently he didn’t need to worry. They were eating at her apartment, according to her, it was much easier and there was much more privacy.

But five minutes before he was about to leave, Aelin called him in a rush, asking him to meet her at the film studio instead, so they could drive back to her place from there. I should’ve known the schedule was a load of bullshit, she’d said, making him laugh.

He was surprised she was already back to filming, given her last movie was still in theaters, not that he’d seen it, but he supposed that they already were writing the script for the sequel while the final edits were being done last time, so it was easy to just jump right into production.

His feet faltered as he walked down the sidewalk, his face paling. Did that mean - ? Was she forced to be around that monster all day? He assumed the movie had some sort of romance between the two costars, so was she forced to pretend to be in love? Gods, he wished he could just arrest the guy now and get him away from her, but it would go nowhere if she threw out the accusation now. They needed to build a case with strong evidence before they could say anything, because with his popularity with the general public, it would be twisted around to make her look bad instead.

And Rowan would never do that to her.

He sighed as he made his way up to the unassuming building, the tan stucco walls making it blend in with the rest of the street. The gated entrance to the garage was the only giveaway that there was anything special behind.

Rowan walked up to the security booth, smiling tightly at the guard.

“I’m here to see Aelin Galathynius,” he said, holding his breath as the guard laughed humorlessly.

“Isn’t everyone?” His tone was bored. Rowan opened his mouth, but the guard sighed. “Look, I’m not letting you in, dude. So just get lost.”

He huffed and took a few steps away, pulling out his cell phone from his pocket. He shot Aelin a quick text, having to type in her new number into the bar to start a new message chain.

< I’m here but the guard isn’t letting me in

It was less than thirty seconds before he got a text back.

> I’m on it.

“You can’t just loiter here either,” the guard practically shouted at him. “Do I need to call the cops?”

Rowan almost said something snarky back, but the phone in the booth rang, disrupting them. The guard rolled his eyes and snapped it up, muttering a “what” into the speaker.

An inaudible voice spoke on the other side, and the guard’s face paled. “Yes, I’m sorry Ms Galathynius, I’ll let him through right now.” He set the phone down quickly after that, glaring at Rowan’s satisfied smirk. He pressed a button and the door next to the parking garage unlocked, a buzzing sound signifying the change.

The guard plopped back down and scowled but didn’t comment as Rowan made his way into the building, immediately getting immersed in the chaos of the set.

There were multiple moving cameras, with people bustling around carrying makeup, or costumes, or plates of food. The sound of scripts being shuffled around reached his ears before a voice yelled quiet, and the room fell into a silence.

“Okay, act 1, scene 14, 3..2..1.. Go.” The clapperboard sounded, and Rowan paused by the entrance, eyes wide as a bit of space cleared for him to see the set.

It was like the world was thrown back a few centuries, everything so realistic when he knew it was fake. He watched silently as Aelin rushed onto the set of the house, the parlor if he was guessing correctly, straight out of the Victorian Era. She was dressed in a dark blue bustled dress, and a silent tear dripped down her face As she was dragged in by a man who looked about a decade and a half or so older than her. She pulled away roughly and walked up the stairs, with a quick cut before moving to an old fashioned bedroom set, sobs spilling out of her when she was alone.

It made his heart hurt even if he knew she was acting, except… he wondered if part of that visible anguish was real, funneled from her own life.

He had to hold himself back from running to her.

Rowan just watched as the rest of the scene took place, as she collapsed on the bed, holding herself close as she cried, just as he wished he could.

“Why?” She whispered to the ceiling of the room, the singular word, full of despair and defeat, radiating into his soul. The words echoed in his head and he missed the rest of the scene, too focused on the depth of her words.

Until the director called Cut! And the room went back into action. Rowan watched as Aelin immediately straightened, wiping her tears and smiling, saying something to the man she was in the scene with, and then laughing. She trailed away after that, likely walking toward the dressing room, and he was going to wait for her there until he saw another man sidle up next to her, immediately making him red with anger and storming over there.

“Look, Archer,” she was saying, walking faster, “I appreciate the compliment, but I don’t need you to tell me that I’m good at my job. I already know that.” She finally spotted Rowan, and changed her direction to head toward him. Archer followed her, a scowl on his sleazy face.

She smiled weakly at him, a glimmer of tiredness in her eyes, yet her voice remained surprisingly strong for her present company. Although he wasn’t too surprised really, Aelin was the strongest person he’d ever known.

“And the last thing I need is your help,” she managed to say, running a hand down her face as she tried to hurry away.

Rowan almost jumped at the man, ready to throw a punch when he grabbed Aelin’s arm, yanking her toward him while smirking and saying arrogantly “are you sure about that?” But he didn’t need to, because she pulled it away, staring at him in disbelief.

But despite her expression, her arm was shaking, her hand trembling as it clenched in a fist.

So he took that as his time to enter the conversation, eager to jump in and pull Archer’s attention away from her.

“Aelin,” he greeted, raising a hand, and she took a step toward him, her costume heels clicking on the floor as she moved away from the other man.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” she said with a sigh, smoothing back her hair in a nervous gesture.

“Who’s this?” Archer said tauntingly, tilting his head. “Another boy toy? Lord knows you’ve strayed from your fiancé.”

Rowan glared harshly as Aelin closed her eyes, breathing deeply. He opened his mouth to curse at the man, but she snapped her eyes open, leveling a cool stare at him instead.

“No,” she said flatly, meeting Archer’s green eyes, a mockery of his own, with a strength that only she could maintain, “he’s my lawyer.”

His eyes flashed with anger, recognizing the statement for what it was. A threat. But there was a hint of fear too, so all he did was scoff before stalking away, leaving them alone.

————

“It’s fucked isn’t it?” Aelin said quietly in the back of her car on the way to her apartment, looking out the window and not at him. Rowan looked at her though, conflict mixing in his gut. “After what he did to me, I’m still expected to go to set every day and act like I’m in fucking love with him.” She sighed heavily, dropping her eyes closed. “I was crying in that scene you saw me do because I’m supposed to be missing him, full of despair that I can’t be with him, desperate to feel his touch.” She visibly shuddered. “I can’t imagine anything less desirable than that.”

“Aelin -“ he said, but she kept going.

“I shouldn’t have told him you were my lawyer.” She shook her head, chewing on her lip. “That’ll just spur him into preparing a defense, or finding something, anything else to hold against me. But I couldn’t help it.” Her voice was thin. “Just being in his presence every day, I had to do something to stand my ground.”

Rowan reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Don’t ever regret standing up for yourself,” he said clearly, leveling a stare at her. “Don’t ever feel like you have to add to your burdens to dance around other people’s feelings. That’s just bullshit.”

Aelin cracked a smile at the curse, glancing over at him. “You used to tell me that back in high school. I remember.” She sighed. “You used to say that about my mom, about her forcing me into this godsforsaken life, into everything she ever wanted for me. But apparently I didn’t listen well enough.”

She dropped her face into her hand, shuddering a heavy breath. Rowan hesitated before moving his hand to her back, rubbing small little soothing circles as they drove. She leaned into his touch and he didn’t stop, not even when she leaned fully into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For being here for me.”

“Of course,” he replied quietly. “I’ll always be here for you.” The words sent a pang through his heart. He hadn’t been there for her. She hadn’t let him. Despite whatever peace they’d maintained now, he couldn’t forget that she’d willingly left him behind, shattering his heart and his future all at once.

And when she closed her eyes again, murmuring “to whatever end,” quietly into him, Rowan frowned, pulling away slightly. That was what they’d said to each other in school, when they were two halves of a whole, thinking they’d always be together, even if it was just as friends.

But they weren’t that way anymore. She had someone she was marrying for gods sakes, and he would be leaving once this was all wrapped up. He needed to reassert some boundaries to make sure he wasn’t ruined once again.

“You should tell him,” he said a little more stiffly, shaking her off without making it too obvious what he was doing. Aelin looked up and frowned too, her brows furrowed. “Your fiancé would want to know.”

She looked confused, and conflicted, chewing on her lip once again. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Well you can’t just lay it all on me,” he said, regretting the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. From the way her brows shot up, she agreed.

“Would you rather me have not told you? Would you rather me have gone to some half rate other lawyer who would’ve seen my name as an opportunity for glory instead of seeing me as a person who actually needed help?” Her tone was sharp. “I don’t have to tell anyone that I don’t want to tell. Are you saying you regret me picking you?”

“I just don’t understand,” he said, a bit loudly for the small space. He was lucky the partition was up. “Why? Why me? After all this time?”

Aelin’s face was twisted in anger, but her lip was trembling slightly as she huffed and looked away. And then she was lowering the partition with a press of a button, stating the name of his hotel to the driver.

“Change of plans,” she muttered, glaring spitefully at him and ignoring his questions. “I’m busy for lunch now. Sorry.”

“Aelin -“ he said again, eyes wide. But she turned away, ignoring him.

They sat in silence for the rest of the ride.

————

Aelin felt like bursting into tears as she rested her head against the wall of the elevator, squeezing her eyes shut to try and fight the pounding between them.

Gods. How had everything turned to shit so quickly?

She’d never liked the life she led, but she’d managed it, finding her own little methods of joy, pushing aside her own dreams. The bookstore was out of her mind now, the shop she’d own in a city not filled with such pretentious glamour, hopefully with Rowan by her side. She’d accepted that that wouldn’t be the case, but now, everything was different.

Ever since that godsdamned night two months ago, things had been spiraling out of control.

She shouldn’t have been lax with her drinks that evening, she shouldn’t have waited so long to tell someone, she shouldn’t have had that someone be Rowan. With everything going on, he just brought more chaos. But he also brought with him a peacefulness that she hadn’t known since high school, a calm that she only knew when she was with him.

And she needed that to ground her, which is why she’d picked up the phone.

The elevator dinged to reveal her penthouse apartment, and she trudged through the doors, barely registering the music playing, or the sound and smell of coffee being grinded in the kitchen, as she wandered into her bedroom, collapsing face first onto the bed.

A single tear slipped down her cheek.

She really should tell him. Rowan was right, he’d want to know. She almost had, a few times, but the words had never made it past her lips. Would he look at her the same way? She doubted the depth of her feelings for him sometimes, but she didn’t want him to be upset, and she certainly didn’t want him to now look at her with contempt.

It wasn’t her fault, of course, but she also couldn’t help but think that it kind of was.

Footsteps sounded, and the open door groaned a bit as it opened more. Without opening her eyes, she felt a hand brush down her hair, the comforting gesture just making another tear slip out. The sound of a coffee cup being set on the nightstand reached her ears, and she turned toward it, reaching blindly for the warmth of the beverage.

“I figured you could use some caffeine,” his voice said, a hint of amusement in it. “You sounded drained on the phone a few minutes ago. I’m sorry your lunch with Lysandra got canceled, but I’m sure you can reschedule soon.”

A flicker of guilt went through her as he pressed a kiss to her temple, but she just rolled onto her back and sat up, opening her eyes and smiling softly at the man in front of her, his blue eyes warm as he looked at her.

“Thanks, Dorian.”

Taglist:

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#throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin #throne of glass #rowan x aelin

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