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knivesareout · 3 years

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My Best Decision

Pairing: Javier Peña x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Smut (18!!!+), Oral sex (fem receiving), Unprotected sex, Filth, Possible typos and bad usage of commas.

A/N: I have a whole ass universe to these two tucked away somewhere in my mind and this scene felt like it needed to be written so here we are. I haven’t written anything substantial in years so pls be nice to me, thanks. You can also read it on AO3 here. Big thanks to @dirty-holy-things for being a general gem of a friend and proofreading this for me. Hope y’all enjoy!!!

Summary: Time to yourselves is something hard to come by for you and Javi. When his dad offers to take your little one for the night, you have a few things in mind on what you can fill the quiet with.

Texas was a different kind of hot, you quickly came to realize. Colombia had been sticky and humid, the feeling of your clothes sticking to your skin the absolute worst. Texas came with a dry heat compared to Colombia and it was a change that was welcome in your book.

It’d been about two years now in Laredo and it always made you wonder when you’d stop comparing the two places. It’s not like you lived in Colombia all that long, anyway; just the time it took to complete your Master’s Degree and a few months after, staying behind with Javier until his assignment with the DEA was over. Javi had warned you of all the different things moving to Texas entailed when the decision had been made, even offering up a few other options- like Miami, where Steve had tried to entice the two of you to join him and Connie and their kids. But, Texas had felt right for some reason. Being close to Javier’s father and having that sense of family was something you craved and so, Laredo became home.

Once you had your first child, it just cemented that moving to Texas had been the right decision. Javi had been a mess in the delivery room, pacing constantly and offering to get you anything every 10 seconds. It would’ve been funnier if you weren’t in pain and almost screaming at him to fuck off. Your daughter was born screaming and crying into the world, Javi’s tears unstoppable as he cut the cord and passed her over to you, the gentle grip on her so tender and careful.

The sight of Chucho crying when he’d met your little girl at the hospital, whispering to her how spoiled she was going to be by her abuelo, was something you’d never forget and with Javi rolling his eyes behind his father’s back, you knew he was going to be just as bad as his father, if not worse, and he was. Tiny little Emilia Anaís Peña had the two men wrapped around her finger the second she yawned, her fists popping out of the blanket she was wrapped in, in search of a finger to hold on to.

Now, at just six months, your little girl was a handful and that was putting it lightly. She was crawling everywhere and yanking on anything she could get her hands on, and that included yours and Javi’s hair. A moment of peace was hard to come by, her cries loud and piercing if no one was paying attention to her. Javier was always the first one to give into her pleas, placating her wails with quiet songs sung under his breath and a soothing hand across her back. She was a daddy’s girl and you couldn’t even find it in you to be upset about it, the sight always putting an instant smile on your face.

It was crazy to think there was a time where you believed something like this wasn’t possible- the family, the house together, and anything really beyond a late night hook-up with Javier. Yet, here you were, and Emilia was the perfect blend of you two as you caught her dark eyes slowly drifting close on Javier’s shoulder.

“Javi?” You ask, shuffling the bills that cluttered your kitchen table into a neat pile and setting them aside to go through after dinner.

“Yeah baby?” He slowly turns to glance at you, his hand spanning across your daughter’s back as he holds her to his chest. You could already see the drool mark on his salmon colored shirt and smile softly to yourself. It was still early, and any sleep she got was a blessing. 3am wake up calls were getting tiring and Javi was taking the brunt of them, letting you sleep.

“I was thinking,” you start, walking towards him to brush a fallen strand of hair across Emilia’s forehead as she breathes in slowly. “Maybe Chucho could take Emilia tonight? He called earlier and mentioned I sounded tired, asked if we needed a break. I thought it would be nice to have a night to ourselves. Maybe actually catch up on sleep, watch a movie.”

You would’ve been offended at Javier’s father calling you out, a quiet chuckle escaping you when he brought it up, but you knew he was right. Sleep was a myth at this point and it was only made worse now as Emilia was slowly starting to get her teeth in. You told him you’d let him know what Javier thought by lunch time, giving him a quiet thank you before you’d hung up.

The look on Javi’s face was one you knew well. It was his thinking face. Brows furrowed in thought, lips pursed. He was silently going over the pros and cons of being away from your daughter for the first time, his lips pursed. “It’s gonna have to happen at some point, right? I guess that’s fine,” he finally acquiesces, hiking Emilia higher up on his chest while she snoozes. “Call my dad and let him know we’ll be over in an hour. I’ve got a few things I need to finish up.” With a kiss to your forehead, he turns out of the kitchen and whispers quietly to Emilia that her ‘daddy was going to miss her so much’.

You nod mostly to yourself as he leaves, watching as he heads through the house to no doubt hole himself up in the office with Emilia on his chest while he read over papers he needed to grade. There wasn’t a task he did day-to-day where he didn’t try to have Emilia with him. He’d take her to class with him if you didn’t physically remove her from his side in the mornings. Watching Javier hand her over to Chucho would be interesting and you smirk as you walk back to the kitchen to call your father-in-law, a little pep to your step as you thought about all the things you could do in the next 24 hours.

The handoff had been hilarious, your giggles quiet behind your hand as you watched your daughter reach for her grandfather with a giant smile on her face and paying no mind to Javi’s scowl. Emilia was just as smitten with her abuelo as she was with her father and she wasn’t nearly as torn up about the goodbye as Javier was. She’d giggled and waved bye with the help of Chucho as you’d left and it almost looked like Javier wanted to cry. He’d huffed once you were back in his truck and remained quiet on the short drive back to your house, your hand reaching for his in a comforting squeeze.

The house seemed strange, feeling almost empty, without Emilia’s presence despite her toys being scattered throughout the living room. Some part of you felt guilty at your excitement to finally have a night without your daughter but, it was needed and you’d be damned if you didn’t try to make the most of it. Locking the door behind you once Javier was sitting on the couch, you kicked your shoes off and sat down to curl yourself into his side, his arm wrapping around you tight.

“Are you gonna mope around until we pick her up tomorrow?” You tease him, reaching up to tilt Javier’s gaze towards your own.

A slow smile breaks across his features and he shakes his head, looking guilty. “No. I’m sorry,” he sighs, taking your hand from his chin to lace your fingers together. “It’s just weird and I know it’s something that we’ll have to do but I just. Miss her.”

“I know, Javi,” you nod, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Why don’t we take a nap and then I’ll make us lunch and we can just bask in the quietness for a little bit, hm?”

“Yeah, that sounds,” he yawns, making you chuckle. “Good. Yeah, a nap sounds good.”

As you push yourself up off the couch and stretch, Javi’s calloused fingers reach out and brush across the bare skin of your hip, your t-shirt raising with the stretch of your arms and the feeling of his hands on you sends a slight shiver up your spine. It’d been far too long since the two of you managed to be intimate, your mind blanking on the last time it wasn’t just hurried hands and covered mouths to muffle the moans and grunts from seeking a quick release before running off towards Emilia’s cries.

It’s like Javi’s tiredness is suddenly forgotten, the bareness of your skin a reminder that he hasn’t touched you in so long. A smirk slides across his lips while his hand travels further up your shirt, squeezing along your side until his fingers skim across the underside of your left breast and this thumb seeks out the hardened peak of your nipple to pull between his nimble fingers.

“Javi,” his name is quiet on your lips and you’re not sure if he even heard it until you feel his hand engulf the entirety of your breast and he squeezes and kneads the sensitive flesh in answer.

“Please.”

In a flash, Javier is pulling you down onto his lap where he still sits on the couch and you’re almost winded at the move as you sit on his strong thighs to steady yourself.

You hate that you want to stop this and move it to the bedroom where his back won’t hurt as bad, where you both can spread out and enjoy each other because the spontaneity of it all is sexy and a call back to your time in Colombia where you and Javi couldn’t get enough of each other.

When you don’t automatically start grinding down onto his lap, Javi glances up at you curiously, “What’s wrong, baby?

“Take me to bed?”

He gets it then with a quick nod and you know he’s thinking the same things you are and pulls you close to his chest as he moves off the couch and slides you back down to the ground. Taking your hand in his, he guides the two of you down the hallway towards your bedroom. It’s almost comical, the eagerness of your steps, and he presses you against the wall just next to the door of the room once you’re inside.

“Can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner when you suggested dropping off Emilia at my dad’s,” he breathes against your ear, hands falling to your hips and squeezing them tight.

You laugh against his ear, his mouth moving across your neck and his lips trailing across your collarbone to sponge heavy kisses on any bare skin he can find. “Kinda figured it was an unspoken thing. I’ll be more blunt next time,” you grin, running a hand through his dark hair and tugging him away from your neck to lock your gaze with his. “Fuck me, Javi. I’ve missed your cock, baby. Please.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise at your bluntness but he wastes no time, pulling you away from the wall to back you up against the foot of your bed where you fall back, your hands reaching back to catch your fall. Biting your lip as you watch Javi’s chest heave, the tight pink shirt stretched across his chest, your legs instantly pressing together in search of some relief. Even just looking at him has you wet between your thighs and the movement isn’t lost on him.

Javier is quick to undress, his clothes haphazardly tossed to the side, leaving him in only his boxers where his cock is straining against the seam in the middle. Seeing his clear arousal causes another wave of wetness to pool between your legs and you crook a finger, hoping to entice him to come closer. Kneeling on the bed, he brings you up with him to lay against the pillows and trails a finger down your thin t-shirt to where your leggings sit on your stomach, tracing along the waistband.

“Tell me what you want, hermosa,” Javi asks you quietly, nose nudging against your cheek while his fingers dip just slightly under the fabric.

Normally you weren’t so bold, but with how pent up you were there was no hesitation to your voice when you spoke up, turning to look him in the eye. “I want your mouth on my pussy, Javi. Then I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk the next day.” His fingers still against your skin, the side of his mouth quirking up and he sat up suddenly, yanking down your shorts along with your underwear to leave you bare from the waist below.

“So wet for me already, hm?” Javier spreads your legs wider, putting you on display for him and your body is shameless in the way it opens itself for his greedy eyes. Your hands slide up your tummy and under your shirt to grasp at your breasts, tugging on your nipples while you watch him watch you.

Rough hands smooth up your thighs as Javi moves to settle himself between your legs. Your eyes follow his movements, watching as he licks his lips once he pulls your pussy lips apart and sighs softly to himself. “Most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen,” he makes sure to tell you before flicking your clit with his tongue.

Javi is relentless in the way he eats you out, mouth sloppy and slick after just a moment and when he looks up at you from his place between your thighs, you can see how debauched he already is. You blink quickly as Javi spits on your pussy, bringing a finger up to rub the wetness against your clit and you cry out. Your hands move from your chest to grip the comforter below you and you pant his name like a prayer once his two of his fingers slowly slide inside of you.

“It’s been so long, baby. Gonna have to stretch you out a bit before I slide my cock in you.” Javi’s voice is rough, scratchy and you bare down against his fingers once he starts a slow rhythm of fucking you. “You always take me so well though. Like your pussy was made for me.”

“Want your cock, Javi. Please,” you plead in reply, your left hand releasing the comforter from your grip and sliding it through his hair and tugging softly to get his attention, hoping he would look up and see the desperation on your face.

Javier pays you no mind. His fingers start fucking you in earnest, a third slipping in next to the other two thick digits and you can slowly feel your orgasm building. A slow simmer through your body, like a current that was waiting to crash. Your whines fill the room, along with the wet sound of his fingers fucking you. Once his thumb starts rubbing your clit in time with the thrust of his fingers, you feel like you’re about to tip over the edge.

“Come on baby, can feel you squeezing my fingers so fucking tight. Come on my fingers. Come.”

At the sound of his voice, something snaps inside of you and you cry out his name as wave after wave of pleasure wracks through your body. Your body pulses around his fingers, back taut as you ride his hand.

Javier’s voice is soft as he coaxes you through your release, “Such a good girl. So good for me, aren’t you?” Peppering kisses across your thighs and up your tummy, he slowly slides his fingers out of you and into his mouth to lick them clean.

The sight is obscene as you watch him, your body still pulsing from your release. A smug grin is painted across Javier’s face and you bring a hand through the damp hair on his forehead and push it out of his eyes. “God that was good,” you laugh, scratching at his scalp.

“Thanks for the glowing review, querida.” Javier kisses his way up your stomach, tugging at your shirt that had been bunched up under your arms to finally rid you of the last bit of material that was blocking your body from his.

You can taste yourself on his lips when they finally meet, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip before kissing you slowly. The kiss is languid and soft, your hands grasping at Javier’s back to pull his chest to your own. Your hands wander down to his hips, tugging at the band of his boxers with a frustrated groan when you can’t manage to pull them down all the way and you move away from his lips, “Javi, take them off. Fuck, please. I need to feel you.”

Javier pulls away just enough to tug down his boxers and kick them off before he’s descending back on to you, his cock hard and wet at the tip smearing across your thigh. Your hips move around as you try and line him up, a whine slipping past your lips, desperate. It’d been too long since you’d been able to fully appreciate the heavy weight of him inside you and you were needy, body wanton and open for him.

“Baby, calm down. I’ve got you. Shhh,” he quiets you, a quick kiss to your lips.

Your eyes widen as you feel the tip of his cock running through the slit of your soaked pussy, the head catching on your clit and you cry out as he continues to tease you. The feeling is torture and you dig your nails into his back, a silent plea that you need more. Javier seems to get the message and presses into your cunt, the thickness of him splitting you open in the best way. He’s wide and long, the perfect fit and once he’s bottomed out you feel pure euphoria at the pleasure it brings you.

“Shit you feel so good, squeezing me so tight,” Javier grunts, his hips slowly starting a rhythm as he fucks into you. The slapping of skin fills the room, his cock slick with your arousal.

No one had ever felt as good as Javi did and he knew it, the smug bastard. You nod quickly, agreeing with him as you were at his mercy. “So good, Javi. So good. Harder, please.”

He’s quick to comply, his hips fucking into yours at a brutal pace. His hands pull your thighs up at an angle that makes your vision blurry, calves thrown around his shoulders and he’s relentless as he thrusts into you. You watch him lick at the pad of his thumb, the digit finding your wet clit quickly and he rubs in time with his thrusts.

A moan catches in your throat as your climax nears, head dug into the pillow beneath your head, legs going rigid against him and you tighten around his cock as you cum, Javi’s filthy words muttered low. “God you feel so fucking good around me, squeezing me like this. Cum for me baby, fuck fuck fuck-,” and he finds his own release just behind your own, spilling hot and wet inside your cunt.

Your body feels boneless, the tips of your fingers numb as you drag them across Javi’s back as he breathes slow and hot against your neck trying to catch his breath. Feeling starts to return to your limbs, and you card your fingers through the sweaty curls at the back of Javi’s head. “You still got it there Agent Peña,” you tease, tugging the short hairs up to get him to look at you.

The look on his face is pure annoyance and you give him your biggest shit-eating grin as he shakes his head and slowly pulls out of you with a groan before sliding next to you and tugging you into his side. “You’re lucky I love you,” Javier grumbles, arm wrapped around you and fingertips trailing along your upper arm in a soothing motion.

“I love you too,” you sigh against this chest, tucked underneath his chin. “How many more rounds do you think we can get in before we have to pick up Emilia tomorrow?”

Javi pauses before he answers and hums to himself, knowing he’s genuinely thinking about it putting a smile on your face. “Gonna shoot for 5 but, I’m an old man now so who knows huh?” He digs his fingers into your side, tickling you.

“Shut up and go to sleep, Javi. I’m tired.” You pat at his chest blindly as you yawn, kissing his chest once you’re more settled under the blankets.

He grumbles quietly to himself but is out like a light a few beats later, snoring softly in your ear, filling the silence of the unusually quiet house. Your hands trace carefully along his chest, mind already filling with other things you two can get up to before you pick up your daughter, wondering if you still had your toys stashed away somewhere.

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos #pedro pascal #narcos fanfic #my writing

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let-it-raines · 3 years

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I Hope We Never See October (5/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

ao3 : beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

-/-

Emma likes seafood.

She likes seafood, but she mostly eats like a ten-year-old boy. Apparently, there’s a little place near her house called Granny’s where she devours grilled cheese and onion rings like arteries aren’t a thing. It makes him laugh when she tells him because she eats how he’s always dreamed of eating. The only time he ever gets the chance is when he’s with his nieces and they convince him to get them food Elsa and Liam never let them get.

She also likes 80’s music, has been working at the Blue Dog for over half a decade, prefers her kickboxing classes to cycling ones, and her favorite color is blue.

That last one was a bit of a throwaway question, but he asked it anyway. Then, of course, he made sure to let her know that his eyes were blue. He got an eye roll and a ‘shut up’ for that before she started rolling her hips again. It was damn distracting, but he didn’t stop laughing at how frustrated she was that he wasted his one personal question a day on that.

One personal question a day.

It’s childish, but he thinks it works. It keeps the line between them defined. He knows what this is, has done it enough times before to not be blind to it. They’re both visitors in each other’s lives. They have expiration dates, and when there’s an expiration date, there’s no harm in spending time together.

There’s no commitment, so there’s no hurt.

He’s not an expert on Emma Swan, no matter how much she fascinates him, but he gets the feeling she’s avoiding relationships just as much as he is. There is a past hurt there, a damned painful one, and if anyone gets that, it’s him.

But he doesn’t ask about that in his one question a day. He asks for her favorite color and food and if she’d rather hike uphill for 10 miles or swim for 20.

For the record, she’d rather hike because she could sit down and eat along the way.

“Would you look at that?” Emma says as she runs her hands under the water of the sink at the bar. “You, sitting at this bar, again.”

He slices his salmon with his knife and grins. “I tried that Granny’s place, but the food had too much grease. Met a rather charming waitress, though.”

“Let me guess. Red streak in her hair, boobs on full display, argued with the owner the entire time?”

“How’d you know?”

“Because that’s Ruby, my best friend.”

“Is she now?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“Is that your personal question of the day?”

“Nope,” he says, taking a bite of his food. “I’m saving that for a later time.”

“A later time,” Emma repeats, like she’s considering the words. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the bar. “What makes you think you’re going to be seeing me at a later time? This isn’t enough for you?”

He looks around them and leans closer to her. “Too many clothes.”

Emma laughs, legitimately, and that feels surprisingly good. “I’m literally in a tank top and shorts. That’s about as dressed down as you can get.”

“I was talking about myself, actually. There are too many clothes on me, but it’s nice to know you think so highly of yourself.”

That gets him another laugh and a shake of her head, and he likes that too. He may have no real inclination to become overly attached to her, but he can at least admit to himself that he enjoys her company.

“Shut up.” Someone calls Emma’s name from across the restaurant, and she holds her arm up, putting up one finger. “I get off at The Oaks at eleven. I’ll drop by your place if I’m not too tired.”

“Why the hell are you working there so much?”

“I like the money. And, Jones, that counts as your personal question of the day. I’ll see you later...maybe.”

She grins and winks before walking away, and he swears she puts a little extra sway in her hips. Killian shakes his head as he feels his own smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What a bloody woman,” he whispers to himself before spearing another piece of his salmon.

-/-

“Right there,” she moans. “Like, seriously, right there. Don’t fucking change anything.”

Kilian smiles against her, but he’s quick to return to what he was doing. Emma’s legs tighten over his shoulders, her hands yank at the sheets, and as much as he is throbbing right now, it’s bloody glorious to have her like this. The filter is gone, so too are the reservations, and he gets a bit of satisfaction knowing this is him doing this to her.

His only skills aren’t on the football pitch after all.

He is definitely a bastard for thinking that right now, but he’s never claimed to be otherwise.

“Fuck,” Emma huffs after she comes down from her high. Her legs shiver over his shoulder, thighs tightening so all the sounds fade for a moment, but then her legs fall and all sounds come back in screaming color. “What did I do to deserve that so early in the morning?”

“It’s ten, love.”

“Yeah, that’s early on my day off.”

Killian laughs and kisses the inside of Emma’s thigh before making his way up her body, planting a final one underneath her collarbone before he collapses on his side of the bed and pulls the sheets above his waist.

“It’s not early for the rest of the world.” He smiles, which she doesn’t appreciate, and she sinks further into the bed, yanking the covers over her. He can still see her flushed cheeks and the slightest content smile on her face. “You should try it sometime. See the sunrise, dodge early morning joggers, eat breakfast at a normal time.”

“Trust me, I’m usually up early enough to want to drive into the early morning joggers while I have a Pop Tart hanging out of my mouth. My summer schedule is just...it’s different than usual.”

He has questions about that. It’s something she’s alluded to before, but he doesn’t know if she’ll count that as his question of a day.

He’s thirty-five years old, and he doesn’t know if he can ask the woman he’s sleeping with more than one question about her life. He knows he’s fucked up a lot, but this seems to be the culmination of several screw ups in his own life.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on that. Well, no, he has all the time in the world, but lately, the boredom has dissipated, the loneliness too.

Lately, he’s got a damn good distraction, and he’s not about to fuck that up.

Emma flips over on her side, her hair a wild, curly mess. She used his pool last night and didn’t wash her hair after. It’s made it even crazier than usual. He thinks he likes it. Makes her seem less reserved.

His phone rings on his bedside table, and he leans over to pick it up.

“Hello, darling.” Emma’s brow raises, but he ignores her. “How are you?”

“Good,” Elsa says. “We’re all good. The girls are in the garden right now, running around and getting all their energy out. I haven’t heard from you in a few days.”

“I’ve been...busy.”

Emma’s hand finds his thigh, and his leg jumps before steadying. She is not about to do what he thinks she’s about to do. Bloody hell.

“Busy?” Elsa asks, as Emma’s hand walks a little closer to his groin. “Doing what? Have you made friends?”

“Why do you always ask me that like I’m a child?”

“Because you’re basically my baby brother.” Killian laughs and then hisses as Emma’s hand wraps around him. She smirks, obviously satisfied with herself, and he knows she’s doing it for the reaction above anything else.

Tease.

He doesn’t mind.

Except this is a poor idea.

“I believe I’m actually older than you.”

“Semantics.”

He laughs again, and Emma’s hand starts working a little more. Fuck. He needs her to stop, and even though she’s doing delicious things to him, she is looking away, acting as bored as can be. And maybe she is, but then he sees one corner of her mouth tick up.

“Mum, is that Killian?” he hears Ally ask, echoed by a squeal from Sophia, who is obviously having the time of her life. There’s a bit of a shuffle, some muted voices, and then his niece’s voice comes through. “When are you coming home?”

“Hello, Ally,” he says, his voice going high when Emma moves her thumb. “How is one of my favorite nieces doing?”

Emma immediately stops and yanks her hand away, practically falling off the bed. She catches herself and kicks up, moving the comforter up and nearly pulling it off him.

“What the actual fuck?” she whispers hisses, slapping him.

He ignores her as Ally asks again when he’s coming home.

“At the end of September, sweetheart,” he promises. “I’ll come home, and then I am going to kiss you right on the cheek.”

“Ew,” she complains, and he can imagine her nose scrunching.

“I also might give you a present.”

“I like that better.”

“Good. I thought you would.” he watches Emma get up and pull a t-shirt out of a drawer. It’s an old Man. United shirt, and he pretends that doesn’t do a damn thing to him, especially since she was just working him up a minute ago. “Listen, Ally, darling, will you hand the phone to your mum? I - ”

“Sophia, that is my hat! Do not wear it!”

And then the line goes dead, and he wonders how long it’ll be before Elsa gets back to her phone and calls him back.

“You let me do that to you while you were on the phone with your niece?” Emma mumbles, pulling the shirt down then pulling her hair into a mess of a knot on the top of her head. He’s not sure if she’s annoyed or amused. “I hate you.”

“Technically, at first it was my sister-in-law,” he corrects, tapping his head.

“That doesn’t make it any better.” Emma gets back in the bed, pulling the comforter all the way up to her chin, and then she shuffles a little further into the bed before sitting up against the headboard and groaning into her hands. “I am mortified.”

“I did stop you when Ally took the phone,” he points out before pulling at the arm of her shirt. “Nice shirt.”

Killian stands from the bed and walks toward his bathroom, grabbing his briefs along the way. “It’s comfortable,” Emma says. “Is this the team you played for?”

Killian stops, the tile cool against his feet, and then keeps moving, leaving the door cracked as he gets half dressed and starts brushing his teeth. As good as it was a few minutes ago, the mood is gone.

Especially now.

How the hell does she know he used to play football? And how long has she known that? Is that why...no, that couldn’t be why, but he knows that’s why a lot of women have.

“A long time ago,” he says, spitting out toothpaste. “I was with Chelsea when I retired.”

“Is that another team?”

“Uh, yeah,” he laughs, continuing to brush his teeth but sticking his head out of his bathroom door. “You didn’t know that?”

Emma shrugs as she types on her phone. “I don’t know anything about soccer. I only know you played because Ruby internet stalked you a few weeks ago and showed me your Instagram. I literally thought you were just one of those adults who is really into his hobbies.”

Killian nearly lets out a sigh, but he stops himself and turns back around to the sink to spit again before rinsing his brush. He looks up at the mirror. His hair is disheveled, there are lines around his eyes and on his forehead, and his stubble is growing to the point where a beard is beginning to form. He’ll shave later.

So Emma doesn’t know anything about football then. Or him, for that matter. He’s not sure he entirely believes her, that she didn’t look up any more about him, and he doesn’t like that uncertainty. Usually, when he meets someone, they have the upper hand and know the surface layer of all the dirty details of his life.

They usually don’t care to find out the real stories. Not that most of them redeem him in any way.

“Not a hobby,” he says, taming his hair with his hands. “It was a damn good job.” He leaves the bathroom and leans against the doorframe. “You ever play?”

She laughs and puts her phone down. “No.”

“Not even as a kid? Come on. I hear every lass in America plays as a kid.”

“Is that your question of the day?”

Damn. “No.” Killian walks toward the bed and puts his hands on either side of Emma’s head on the headboard, leaning in close. He sees her chest rise, and he smirks. “My question is to ask you to stay in bed with me all day. What do you say, Swan?”

She sits up, and her lips lightly brush against his mouth when she talks. “You should have asked me about the soccer because I was already planning on staying here the entire day.”

“Really now?”

“If we can get crepes delivered from this place that’s, like, ten minutes from here.”

Killian kisses her, long and slow until there’s heat simmering low in his belly. “As you wish.”

-/-

Emma doesn’t come over every night. Nor does he go to her place. But it seems that way as July rolls by, full of hot days that seem to linger forever. Killian finds himself busy during the days. Emma usually has work early in the mornings, so if she’s staying over, she leaves before eight. He doesn’t know how she has time to breathe working at both the Tavern and The Oaks, but she makes it work. When she leaves, he gets up and uses the gym in the basement of the house, going through his tried and true routines before he laces up his trainers and either runs on the beach or on the sidewalks through his little area of the vineyard. He finds the sidewalks are better for his knees, so he tends to stick with that and leaves walking on the beach for his afternoon phone calls with Elsa and the girls or Ariel and Eric.

It’s a routine, one that changes during the day, but for the first time since he got here, he doesn’t hate every damn day. He doesn’t spend his time actively having to try not drink or thinking about Liam or football. He practically buys out a local bookstore and goes through the novels faster than he has in years. He visits different restaurants, museums, goes along with some tourist activities he finds online, and he explores any shop that strikes his fancy.

And while his routine changes, there is one constant: he eats a meal at the Blue Dog Tavern.

At first, he thought Emma would kick him out for it, but now, she often comes and sits with him for a few minutes or sends him a drink from her office. He always sits in Ashley’s section and lets her talk about her growing belly even if he knows little about pregnancy, and he spends at least an hour eating and watching all the people around him.

It’s a hell of a lot better than the twenty-four-hour diners with sticky floors and bad coffee.

Killian shoves his keys in his pocket and pushes open the door to the Blue Dog. Marina greets him, telling him to seat himself anywhere in Ashely’s section, so he goes to his favorite booth and settles down. He can’t see the television from it, so it’s the perfect spot to completely escape from the world with no risk of his past showing up right before his eyes.

He may be feeling better, may be able to have a drink or too at night without wanting to have five more, but he knows he’s possibly only one bad day from it all coming undone, the thread unraveling faster than he can wind it back up.

“Tea or coffee today, Killian?” Ashley asks, notepad in hand.

“Tea, I think, but not the blasted stuff you gave me last time.”

She laughs and writes down his drink order. “Do you know what you want to eat already or should I come back?”

He hands her the menu. “The daily special and a side salad.”

“Perfect. I’ll be back with that as soon as possible.”

“No need to rush,” he says, smiling. “Is - ”

“She’s filling out orders for next week, but I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Ashley winks before walking away, and Killian wonders what the hell everyone in this restaurant thinks of him and Emma. It must be peculiar, but if he’s picked up anything from Emma, it’s that she likely doesn’t share much about her personal life with her employees. She surely won’t tell him that he’s the man she’s sleeping with for the summer, but they might pick up on that on their own.

The food here is good, but it’s not every day good.

He’s finished his salad and half of his sandwich when she comes out from the back. Today, she’s already in the black dress she wears to The Oaks, and her hair is pushed back into a ponytail. She looks exhausted, and unfortunately, the reason has nothing to do with him.

“I only have a second to say hi,” she says, sliding into the booth and grabbing a roll from the basket, breaking off a piece and popping it into her mouth. “We are having an issue with our fish orders, and it’s an absolute nightmare.”

“That sounds like I won’t be ordering any fish this week.”

Emma takes another bite of her bread. “I wouldn’t if I were you. Do you want to come to my place tonight? I’m off at ten.”

“Sure.” He picks at the bread on his sandwich. “Though, the last time I was at your place, that damn crab pillow ended up in the bed, and I didn’t appreciate that.”

Her nose scrunches with her laugh. “I hate that thing too, but Ariel loves it.”

“You live in that house the entire year. Why don’t you redecorate it for your taste?”

Her shoulders tense, and she stops chewing before slowly starting again. He already knows this is going to be his personal question of the day. Sometimes she forgets about it and lets the conversation flow freely, but when he hits a nerve, she’s more on her guard.

He gets it. He can be the same way.

“Personal question,” she says, and he knows her better than he should. “And I’ve redone my bedroom and little bits in the kitchen and living room, but I don’t know. I guess I keep it how the Fishers have it because it’s their home. There are memories there, and I don’t want to take any of those away for when I do eventually get another place. It’s....it’s good to have a family home with memories.”

Killian arches his brow, but Emma looks away, picking at the roll again. He never really had a family home, not after his mum died and his dad became obsessed with using Killian’s football skills for his own fortune, but he likes that sentiment.

A family home with memories. Good ones. That would be the dream.

“What about you?” she asks, changing the subject before he can press further. “Aren’t you excited to get back to your place where all the stuff is yours? You’re living in a place that’s not your own, so I’m sure you’re ready to get back to your family.”

She doesn’t mean anything by it, but her words cut. He’s here because he lost the one person in his family who he was closest to, but he doesn’t want to talk about that, not now. This is supposed to be a good time. It isn’t supposed to be about dark histories.

“I’m enjoying my time here,” he answers honestly. “There’s this woman who is an absolute spitfire, and she’s been occupying most of my time. I’ve been, well, metaphorically tied up in bed too much to think of returning home.”

“Ha, ha,” she monotones with a roll of her eyes. “That’s not what I - ”

“Hi!”

They both turn, and Emma’s friend Mary Margaret is standing there, bouncing back and forth on her toes. “Hi, Marg,” Emma says. “You’re early.”

“I know. I got finished tutoring early, so I thought I’d drop by. I didn’t know you’d have...other company.”

“Nice to see you again,” Killian says, nodding at Mary Margaret.

“Yeah, nice to see you.” Mary Margaret seems hesitant, like she didn’t meet him weeks ago at dinner, and he wonders just how much she knows about his arrangement with Emma. From what he’s learned, they seem close, but he also knows Ruby is Emma’s more...accepting friend. “How are you?”

“I’m good, love. Just badgering Emma at work. I’m surprised she hasn’t kicked me out yet.”

“Annoy me a little too much, and I will.” Her ankle hooks with his under the table, and Killian bites his lip to keep from smiling too much. “So, what’s up, Marg? Why’d you want to drop by? Have you heard of this thing called phones?”

Mary Margaret chuckles before sliding into the booth next to Emma. Emma’s ankle unhooks from his, and he tucks his feet under the booth. “So, you know how David wants to have that big barbecue for all of our friends and neighbors?”

“Yeah, you guys do it every year because you’re insane.”

“Anyway,” she says, playfully rolling her eyes, “we were wondering if we could get the Blue Dog to cater some of the sides. I know you guys don’t cater, but we could pay extra. Please.”

“You do know there are restaurants who do cater who could handle this?”

“Yes, but we love the food here. Killian gets it, right?”

“Uh, yes,” he mumbles, not sure what he’s supposed to say. From Emma’s death glare, he knows he’s chosen incorrectly. Bloody hell. “I love it.”

“Exactly,” Mary Margaret says. “We’ll pay extra. Promise. In tips so the staff can get it instead of the owners.”

Emma sighs and sinks into the booth, crossing her arms over her chest. “I need to know the order at least two weeks ahead of time, and it’s going to take me some time to figure out how much you guys need to pay.”

“Ahhhh, perfect!” Mary Margaret hugs Emma before sliding out of the booth. “You’re the best! I can’t wait to call David! Oh, and Killian, you should come too. It’s on August 14th. We’d love to have you there.”

Killian scratches his ear and nods, flashing her a tight smile. He doesn’t think Emma would welcome him at a party full of her friends, so he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable no matter how nice it might be to be in a large group of people.

“He’ll be there,” Emma says, surprising him, and he feels her toe tap his shin. “If he can make it, of course. You know, he has a very busy social calendar.”

“I wonder why that is, darling.” He winks, making Emma smile, and he taps his toes into hers right back. “I’ve heard you keep pretty busy as well.”

Emma’s mouth gapes before closing, and her green eyes widen, lashes nearly hitting against her brows. “Ass.”

“Well, I know you like - ”

“Okay.” Mary Margaret claps her hands together. “I’ve got to go. Emma, I’ll send you the menu after I talk to David tonight. And Killian, we really would love to have you there.”

“I’ll see,” he says as he fights to keep from smiling too widely. “May I recommend the cheddar bites for the menu. They’ll kill you, but you’ll enjoy it.”

“I have never once seen you get the cheddar bites,” Emma scoffs.

He leans over the table, pressing his chin in his hand and smirking the way he knows she likes. She tells him he’s obnoxious when he does it, but sometimes he can see past that hard shell exterior. “I’m full of surprises, darling.”

“That you are, Jones. That you are.”

-/-

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#I hope we never see october #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan

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gayshrug · 3 years

Text

all dressed in radiant colors

carlos reyes/ tk strand, teen+, 1k, ao3 for @immortalstrand

Prompt: "Is that my shirt?" - "You mean our shirt?"

Or: Carlos is confronted with the fact that he might've been holding back a little, and TK's a chef.

“Baby…”, Carlos mumbled, hand trying to seek out TK’s warmth beside him. To no avail. Eyes still bleary with sleep, he stroked over the covers and crawled closer to the edge of the bed – almost tumbling off before catching himself and falling back into the pillow closest to him, face-first. The fabric was cool to the touch by now but still smelled like TK, like home. Carlos groaned, yearning.

That was new – Carlos being the last one to wake up. Usually, he had to tease TK awake, nudge him for minutes at a time, whisper sweet nothings into his ear, all for the sake of not getting hit in the balls. TK was useless in the mornings, clinging to sleep with all he had and ready to fight anyone who came between him and those sweet extra minutes of unconsciousness.

Skeptical of what the change in routine could mean, Carlos took his time getting up. He didn’t bother to get dressed, instead trudging into the bathroom naked. No need for clothes, considering he’d just take them off in a minute anyway.

He opted for brushing his teeth under the shower spray to preserve water and immediately regretted it – toothpaste clinging to his toes where he’d carelessly let it drop from his mouth. Michelle would laugh at him for copying the behavior he’d bemoaned about TK in the past, he knew. But fuck it. Nobody needed to know.

Toweling himself dry took longer than usual, Carlos distracted by his attempts at locating his favorite Sunday-morning-shirt. He had an excessive wardrobe, yes – heaps upon heaps of shirts and flannels in different colors, for varying occasions. When it came to Sunday mornings, however, he was particular.

After he’d put on a clean pair of briefs – the soft, white ones TK couldn’t help but grope at whenever he wore them – he started digging through the hamper, the pile of clothes on the chair next to the desk, the drawer designated for casual wear. He even got on his knees to look underneath the bed, unsure of whether he’d maybe flung the shirt there carelessly while he’d been desperate to undress. But no.

Muttering to himself, he grudgingly pulled out one of those joke-shirts he and TK had gotten from the 126 after they’d made their relationship known – an obnoxiously bright crop-top with BABES Club printed over the chest in bold letters. It left his stomach exposed completely, accentuating his waist and happy trail; if nothing else, it’d at least make TK laugh and get close. A good distraction from Carlos’s irrational upset at having misplaced his favorite shirt.

❦

As he walked down the stairs on quiet feet, careful not to make too much noise so he could scope out the situation before TK noticed him, Carlos stopped in his tracks near the bottom. TK was shimmying along to Carlos’s weekend playlist, chopping veggies for what Carlos assumed was going to be omelets. Wearing tiny boxers and an oversized shirt.

Coffee was already on the table in a gigantic thermos jug, bread rolls and an assortment of jams and honey placed beside it – alongside butter, cheeses, and avocado and salmon bites. Carlos couldn’t keep his mouth closed, eyes flickering between the breakfast buffet and his boyfriend, who still hadn’t noticed him, in wonder. What the fuck.

Right as he was about to say something – propose marriage, maybe – TK turned around, sizzling pan in hand.

They just stared at each other for a moment.

Before TK could presumably yell at Carlos for being a fucking creep, Carlos blurted out “Is that my shirt?”, fixing his gaze on the unmistakable APD logo on TK’s chest. And the way the shirt was hanging off TK’s shoulders, accentuating the dip of his throat. Two sizes too big for him, Carlos guessed. My size.

“You mean our shirt?”, TK replied, eyebrow ticking up as he placed the pan on the table mat. When he met Carlos’s gaze, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, defensive.

“What- no, I mean my shirt. You know it’s- I always-“ Carlos couldn’t find his words, brain having a hard time reconciling the conflicting impressions bouncing around in it.

TK was wearing his favorite shirt, meaning he himself couldn’t wear it. Not ideal. TK looked delectable wearing his favorite shirt. Huh. TK had prepared one hell of a breakfast buffet for Carlos. Beautiful. Carlos was picking a fight over TK wearing his shirt instead of crushing him into a hug and thanking him. Bad. Very, very bad.

TK made his way over to him, never breaking eye-contact. “Our shirt, Carlos. I put it on whenever you’re on duty or, like, busy. Out of the house. It smells like you, so I wear it.” – “You- but-“

Rather than telling him off for being stuck in his habits, or ungrateful, or whatever, TK grabbed Carlos’s hands and placed them on his own waist, over the soft, warm fabric of Carlos’s shirt. “You’re my home, Carlos. Is that so bad?”

It snapped Carlos out of his daze, hearing his own thoughts from earlier mirrored by his boyfriend. “No, no, it’s not bad at all, it’s – I want that. You’re my home, too.” Carlos leaned in, burying his face in TK’s shoulder, pulling him closer. Breathing in the mingled scents on their shirt, the epitome of their relationship.

TK laughed into Carlos’s neck, dug his fingers into Carlos’s exposed hips. Groped at his ass a little, like Carlos knew he would. “Why do I feel like sharing this shirt is a bigger step for us than you giving me that key?”, TK mumbled, smile audible.

It sounded silly but TK wasn’t wrong, per se – Carlos felt like they’d made it official. The shirt, the breakfast, his playlist warbling on in the background even though he knew it wasn’t what TK would choose to play for himself. They shared everything, now.

Carlos didn’t know if he’d been holding back, not consciously at least, but as this last piece clicked into place, he let out a huff – overwhelmed. Grabbed TK by the backs of his thighs and pulled him up, planted him on his own hips. Pressed him closer, as close as he could get him.

Peppered kisses all over his face, apologizing, thanking him, interrupting TK’s giggles and eyerolling with even more kisses. Carried TK over to the breakfast table and sat him down, climbed into his lap. Ignored the precarious creaking of the chair.

They could always make a fresh batch of omelets later.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #immortalstrand #thank you for sending me this prompt karen <3

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storytellingfandom · 4 years

Text

Rainy Day kind of Love

Summary: It’s been raining all day, and of course, Lin’s been caught in it working. All she wants to do is go home, take a shower, and collapse. Luckily, you’re there to make sure she’s taken care of.

A/N: It’s been pouring down rain all day and the vibe I’m feeling. So enjoy this fluffy little Lin/Reader to help you feel cozy too.

Wordcount: 10252

It had been a terrible day. It had been pouring down rain all day, the wind was blowing, the power had gone out in several areas, there had been more accidents on that day than Lin could ever keep a count on. The only good thing about today was that she was getting out of the station on time. She was soaking wet from standing out in the rain supervising an accident after a Triad raid, which is probably the only reason she was going home.

Pulling her trench coat closer to her form, she ran the short distance from her Satomobile to the apartment building. Nodding to the man behind the front desk, she started up the stairs before using her cables to pull her up the rest of the way. The cold was beginning to seep into her bones at that point, her fingers were stiff so instead of her key, she used her fingers to flick the locks open and pushed the door open.

The sight made her smile, feeling a little bit warmer than she had been.

The smell of clean laundry hit her senses first, a soft, floral, clean scent that you used for the detergent. Neatly folded piles sat in a basket near the couch, a blanket ruffled on the couch. You had obviously been there not too terribly long ago curled up there if the empty tea cup was any indication.

Hanging her coat up to dry, she bent her armor off as well to put it next to the door so that it didn’t drip water all over the floor. Once she was dried off and warmed, she would come back and dry it and polish it if needed. Rubbing hands over her damp arms, she was grateful for the warmth of the apartment coming from the heater that you had obviously turned on at some point when the storm had picked up.

She found you in the kitchen with your back to her. Your hair was damp, piled messily on the top of your head, one of her shirts covering your form covering most of the shorts that you wore. Standing at the counter, you were chopping vegetables for the soup pot that sat on the stove. Perfect. Soup was something she could go for right about now.

Coming up behind you, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around your form, chin resting on your shoulder, pulling you closer to absorb your warmth.

“You’re so warm.”

“Spirits Lin!” You whirled around in her arms, cupping her cheeks. Taking her in, her hair was wet, her skin was frozen and damp and her pants were soaked through where her armor and boots didn’t cover it. “Were you out all day in this!? We need to get you in a bath with some hot tea.”

Lin chuckled but let herself be led by you back into the bathroom. Releasing Lin’s hand, you reached out to start the hot water for her. Turning, you helped her to get undressed, reaching up to pull pins from her hair and ran your fingers through the wet, dark grey waves.

She caught your face then, standing in her bindings and pants to press a kiss to your lips. It forced you to stop, to let your brain slow down from trying to focus so hard on taking care of her.

“Hi.” Lin murmured against your lips, fingers brushing against your warm skin.

“Hi.” You smiled back and kissed her back. “Missed you today.”

“Me too. How’d the meeting with the museum go?” Lin asked, pulling back to finish stripping for the shower.

“It was good! I think we’re going to get the funding to expand some things.” You answer with a smile. “I’ll tell you about it after you get warm. Tea will be ready when you’re done in here.”

Lin took her time in the shower, letting the water warm her up. Seeing your jasmine scented shampoo she opened it just to smell it before grabbing her own. It was a lavender mint you’d found for her at a market somewhere, the two scents were meant to relax her, and they worked. And though many would never believe it, she did like and enjoy soaps that smelled good and made her hair or skin as soft as these did.

When she did get out, she smiled when she saw how you’d laid out dry clothes for her. Sweatpants you’d put on the radiator to get it warm before laying it on the bed for her, and her typical white tank top.

Once dressed, she left her hair down for once before moving to join you back in the kitchen again. She tried to worm her way back to snuggle against your form but was stopped by a wooden spoon.

“Tea, drink, now.” You ordered, a smirk tugging on your lips when you noticed the slight pout. “You were out there all day Lin, in cold armor. Drink your tea and then maybe you can snuggle up to me.”

“I’m fine, Y/N, the shower helped.” Lin answered, but still found herself going to the mug and picked it up to start drinking it. Humming, she smiled to herself when she tasted the hint of whiskey that was laced in it. You knew her too well.

Walking over to her armor, she grabbed a towel from the pile in the basket before drying it off. Thankfully it didn’t look like it’d need to be polished. Bringing it to the bedroom, she placed it back in its case. Returning back to her tea, she took another long sip of it before setting it back on the table before going back into the kitchen.

Arms slid around your waist again, lips pressed into your clothed shoulder. “Do you need any help in here?”

“Hmm, if you want to get plates down and pull the pan out of the oven?” You asked, leaning into her.

“I can do that.” Lin murmured, reaching around to steal a piece of the finely chopped, brightly colored vegetables before you could smack her hand with your wooden spoon.

Chuckling, Lin hurried off with the plates. Setting them on the table, she also reached for glasses for some wine. The two of you deserved it. Making it back into the kitchen, she nudged you gently to move you away from the oven. Pulling it open, she pulled it out and groaned at the smell of the baked salmon that had been marinated in lemon, orange, and probably your famous mango sauce if she was looking at it correctly.

“Spirits Y/N, this smells and looks amazing.” Lin said moving to bring it to a table with oven mitts.

“I had a feeling you could use a good meal tonight.” You answered with a smile as you finished the dumpling soup and moved to saute the vegetables quickly.

Grabbing a couple of bowls, Lin dished out soup for the both of them before bringing it over to the table. With the vegetables done next, you dished them out over some rice before following her over to the table.

Lin walked over to your guys bar area and grabbed a bottle of wine. Uncorking it as she walked over to you again, she poured both of you some wine before sitting across from you.

“You didn’t have to do all of this you know.” Lin said, a small smile still crossing her features.

“I wanted to Lin, I got home early and wanted to do something nice for you. And get laundry done.” You smiled at her. “Besides, the leftovers will be great for the work week.”

“Mmm, that’s true.” Lin agreed, digging into the salmon, a moan escaped at the tastes that invaded her mouth. “Speaking of, it’s supposed to storm again tomorrow. Since we’re both off, I was thinking we could just stay in.”

“I would love that.” You beamed at her. It had been ages since the two of you had been able to just be home together with nothing to worry about. And you’d rip Korra’s head off if she came in search of Lin for one reason or another to clean up some kind of mess if she showed up tomorrow. Though, you didn’t mention it to Lin.

The rest of dinner was spent in quiet conversation, you told her how you were able to get the funding for more areas in the museum besides the air bending section. You were also working with several nations leaders to expand the museum’s library and access to historical documents as well. Especially for non benders who had family who did bend but they weren’t allowed the same information by many places. Something you were striving to, loudly, change. Something she supported you every step of the way.

Once dinner was done, she shooed you out of the kitchen to do the dishes herself. Making your way to the laundry, you put it away before meeting her back at the couch. Collapsing onto it, Lin’s arm came around you pulling you close and into her.

The radio played softly in the background, some gentle jazz piece with pianos and saxophones taking the lead on it. Lin’s fingers reaching up to tug the hair tie holding your hair in the bun out to bury her fingers in it, releasing the jasmine smell into the air and letting it slide through her fingers. Lips moved to the top of your head and she just smiled against your hair.

Your fingers found her free hand, playing with her fingers and measuring them against your own. Pressing against them, feeling them, knowing every callous there, every little scar that was there. Lacing your fingers back together, you brought your laced fingers to your lips to kiss them gently.

“You’re incredible, do you know that?” You ask, looking up at Lin.

“Only as amazing as you are.” Lin smiled, chuckling when you gave her a look. “I know, I’m sorry. Thank you...if I’m amazing to you, then that’s all that matters.”

Nodding, you smiled and pushed up to kiss her, lips moving lazily against each as the warm, full feeling began to sink in for both of you. “Good girl. Come on, why don’t we go to bed, hm?”

“Spirits, that’s the best offer I’ve had all day.” Lin agreed and kissed the top of your head again before standing. Moving around the room, lights were turned off, the radio was switched off, and the heat turned down.

Moving to the bedroom, you climbed into bed with Lin. Rather than spoon tonight though, you tangled limbs together, arms around each other. Your face buried against her chest to listen to her steady heartbeat. You tried not to think of all the things in any given day that could stop this heart that you loved so adoringly, but you always trusted her to keep her promise. She would come home, she may be injured, but she would always come home. And that’s all that mattered.

“I love you.” You murmured, smiling when you felt Lin’s arms tighten around you.

“I love you too. More than you know.”

And so, wrapped in blankets with her favorite person on the planet, Lin Beifong fell asleep. It had been a long day, it had been a day she could easily want to just forget. But coming home to you, coming home to someone who loved her, who wanted to take care of her instead of the other way around, always made those days bearable.

#lin beifong #lin beifong x reader #lin beifong/reader #lok fanfiction #legend of korra fanfiction #legend of korra fanfic

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infernwetrust · 3 years

Text

The Devil In Me [Michael Langdon x Fem Reader] Part 1

Plot: What if we took the Antichrist, Michael Langdon and turned him into founder and leader of one of the largest cartel’s in California? And what’s even better, is that you’re by his side through it all.

Summary: Michael has some business handled at his California home.

Warnings: violence, swearing, fluff, a lil smut, MURDER, some graphic descriptions

WC: 3.1k

A/N: I thought long and hard about starting this, but I’m gonna go ahead and give it a shot. Outpost Michael fits this perfectly of course, but he’ll cut his hair every now and then lol. This will have it’s own bracket on my master list. Thank you for reading! -Juno

The air was cool. The evening was just right. Your husband Michael had decided to throw a small party that consisted of only close friends, family members, and some staff from your residency and Michael's line of work. Party music played moderately in the background as the backyard of the Santa Monica Villa you and Michael purchased this same year was filled with laughter, dancing, and casual conversation. Servers carried around platters of the most delectable finger foods. Drinks were also being served. Cars were lined up in the driveway, late arrivals having to park on the side of the road. Luckily, Michael always sent one of his guards on a golf cart to pick up his guests that had to park far away.

Michael laid in his hammock, across his rather large pool so that he was away from everyone else. Michael dressed comfortably. He wore a beautiful salmon pink floral shirt and white slacks, with a white belt. No need for shoes. Around Michael's neck was a platinum rope chain that glistened when the light shined on it just right. Around his wrist was a platinum iced out Rolex watch, his name engraved on the inside, one of his favorite gifts from you. The only ring he decided that he wanted to wear today was his wedding band, which shocked you. Michael always wore all of his rings.

Curled up against Michael's chest yours and his beautiful 1 year old boy, Malcolm. He was blessed with a full head of hair, just as blonde as his father's. He took after your eye color, but his resemblance to his father was unmatched. No worries because in his twin brother's arm was your handsome 3 year old son, Michael,who captured most of your features. All really, but your eye color. Michael won that fight again. Junior, is what everyone calls him. On the opposite side of Michael, still in his hammock was you, dressed in that sundress Michael loved to show you off in. Your wedding ring glistened on your finger, no matter what time of day it was or where you were. Michael made sure of that. Around your neck, your favorite Pearl necklace.

You lay head your head on Michael's chest, rubbing your hand gently against the back of your one year old. Michael raises his arm slowly as to not alert the sleeping child and takes a sip of his whiskey. He's glaring at someone, hard. And you know why and who, but you rather choose to not address it. All you were waiting for were the words.

"You know, brother." Jim said to Michael, using his free hand that wasn't holding Junior, to also take a sip of his drink. "I don't see how you do it."

"And what is it that I do, Jim?" Michael questioned, turning his head slightly to meet his brothers gaze. Junior nestled his head back into Jim's chest, mouth full of goldfish out of the bowl he was holding. Jim sat in a chair, adjacent to Michael's hammock.

"How you stay so calm and collected about things."

"Dirty work is not something I'm a fan of."

"But I am."

"I know, so that's why I gave this task to you."

"You know I'll do anything for my family."

"I just don't see why we can't just kick them out." you mumbled, watching as Malcolm grabbed your finger in his sleep as you tried to put your hand back down from his back.

"Because in this life, lessons have to be taught." Michael answered you, putting his glass down to wrap his arm fully around you. Michael made eye contact with his other twin, Duncan, who sat amongst a group of women, one of them in his lap, stroking his hair. He nodded, giving Michael the cue. "Will you go ahead and take the kids inside?" You sighed, sitting up, looking Michael in his soft blue eyes.

"Baby, you don't have to-,"

"One day you'll understand, Y/N." Michael said, cutting you off, grabbing one of your hands and giving it a few small kisses. Getting up, you gently picked up Malcolm, holding him close to you.

"Come on, Junior."

"Nooooooo." Junior whined, not wanting to leave his Uncle's side. "Don't wanna."

"Hey." Jim said, playfully grabbing Junior's tummy, causing him to giggle. "What was that phrase I taught you?"

"The first time." Junior responded happily.

"The first time what?"

"Listen!" he clapped, letting go of his bowl which Jim quickly caught before it fell to the floor.

"Smart boy. Now go with inside with your mommy. We'll play later, yeah?" Junior quickly nodded, scurrying off of Jim's lap and to your side, grabbing your hand. He turned around momentarily to look back at Jim, who shot him a quick wink before you took both boys inside. You also managed to scurry up the other children as well, promising treats and a good show on TV. You had them at treats.

"He loves you so damn much." Michael said, sitting up, hanging his feet of his hammock to come face to face with his brother. "Sometimes I swear he thinks you're his father."

"I mean. I could be. We're twins."

"Watch it, playboy."

Jim chuckled, reaching for his drink to take another sip. He dressed in a dark blue polo shirt, black slacks, and a pair of dark blue dress shoes. A black Louis Vuitton belt, midnight silver buckle, lined his waist. He sighed, reaching for his pistol that was tucked neatly behind him is waistband. He quickly removed the clip, checking it, and popping it back in before setting it down on the table next to Michael.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" Jim questioned. "He's been with us for a few years, Mike."

"All the more reason to get rid of him. I've taken care of you for years and you betray me like that?" Michael answered. "He knows too much and has seen too much."

"That's true." Jim mumbled, rubbing his hand underneath his chin. "What are they doing with his body?"

"Burning it." Michael said quickly, squinting his eyes at Jim. "Like we do 90% of the time. Do you not want to, Jim?" Michael's question caused Jim to laugh as he got up, returning his shirt back into his slacks. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes off the table, taking one out, placing it between his lips and giving it a light, tossing the box back on the table. He inhaled sharply, before exhaling lengthy.

"You and I both know, Michael." Jim began as he took another hit of his cigarette. "That I shy away from nothing. Especially not an, how do I put this, opportunity." Jim tucked his gun back into his waistband.

"And speaking of opportunity." Jim continued, looking out into the body of people before hitting his cigarette one last time and then handing it to Michael. "Here's mine."

Jim made his way, at a decent pace, back to the other side of the pool, where all the party goers stood. He took his time, waving and smiling at familiar faces. Spotting his target, he moved with just a little bit more urgency. It's such a shame that Bryce had to go. Michael watched Jim as he moved, continuing to sip his drink. Part of him wanted to look away because this hurt him as much as it was going to kill Bryce. Bryce was one of his favorites.

He remembered when he stumbled across Bryce who limped out of an alleyway, screaming for help as Michael closed up his bar. When Michael laid eyes on him, his clothes were completely ruined by blood. He held onto his stomach, collapsing onto the sidewalk, coughing up more blood as he spoke. Michael made his way over to the boy, kneeling down by his side, removing his hand from his wound, watching as the he poured out.

"How bad do you want to live?" Michael asked, cocking his head at the boy.

"What the fuck is up with you man?!" he questioned. "Help me!"

"I asked you a question." Michael spoke again. "You want to live right? I could just let you die, here."

"Um, kinda, yeah!"

"Then tell me how bad you want to live."

"Bad man! Bad! I want to fucking live bad! Please don't let me die!" Michael grinned. How fragile life was, he thought. How it could just be taken from you at any moment. Moments like these.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Br-Br-Bryce." he responded before blacking out from the pain.

"We're going to get you alllllll fixed up, Bryce."

Michael took Bryce, not to a hospital, but instead back to his property, where his own private doctor could deal with Bryce. They managed to take care of what they discovered was a gunshot wound instead of a stab wound like Michael originally thought when he found Bryce.

"How's he doing?" Michael asked Dr. Joseph as he stepped into the rather large, renovated, shed he had given to his doctor for his medical practices. He even was nice enough to give him a little office space as well.

"Well. He's very lucky considering how much he was bleeding." he answered. "Those two bullets I removed barely missed his vital organs, but he'll make a full recovery."

"Which room do you have him in? Is he awake now?"

"Room 3. It has the most room. The last time I checked on him, yes."

Michael nodded at his words, making his way over to the room. He entered quietly, not wanting to startle, Bryce. Bryce sat up in the bed, sipping on an ice cold water, scrolling through the movies on the flatscreen TV Michael had gotten installed in every room. Jim's idea, of course. There was an awkward silence in the room as Bryce didn't know whether to thank him first or say fuck him for waiting until he passed out and asking him all those stupid questions.

Michael didn't say anything as he walked around to the side of Bryce's bed, pulling up a near by chair to sit closer to him. Michael leaned back in his chair, throwing a leg halfway over his knee as he clasped his hands together. Bryce never took his eyes off of him, not sure what his next move would be.

"You're welcome by the way." Michael said. "Isn't it nice having someone take care of you without all the pesky need for insurance information or just a bill in general?"

"Why are you doing this?" Bryce questioned.

"Answer me this, Bryce." Michael leaned forward in his seat. "What if I offered you a chance to start over? A new chance at life. Somewhere, where you could be safe, your meals paid for. And all you have to do is stay by my side, loyal to me."

"I'm not gay, man."

"Who said anything about being gay?" Michael questioned, raising his eyebrow. "And what if I was?"

"Listen." Bryce breathed out. "I didn't mean to offend you. Look. Thank you. For bringing me, to, well wherever we are, and helping me. And once I'm all healed up, I'll be all out of your hair."

"Do you have any family, Bryce?" Bryce's whole attitude changed. He looked softer.

"No..." he answered silently.

"Well you do now."

Jim was just a few feet away from Bryce now when the two made eye contact. And when Jim reached, rather quickly, behind his back, Bryce knew. Of course he knew what he had done. Bryce turned around to start running, when Jim quickly cocked his gun and fired two shots, both at the back of his legs. Everyone stopped what they were doing, in shock, but not enough shock to runaway. It was Jim and who dares question one of Michael's brothers. Everyone watched as Bryce fell to the floor, screaming bloody murder in pain. Jim continued to walk at his leisurely pace to him, standing in front of him.

"Now." Jim said aloud, over the groans and screams of Bryce. "I know you all looked at Bryce as family, right? 4 years ago my brother found this piece of scum bleeding to death, begging for help. And of course Michael helped him."

"I'm sorry!" Bryce yelled, hands reaching out to grab Jim's ankle and it took everything in him not to kill Bryce right then and there, but he wanted to get his point across.

"And with the help of our wonderful Dr. Joseph, he was taken care of, free of charge, can you believe that?" Jim continued. "And all we asked for in return was just his unwavering loyalty." Jim snatched his ankle away from Bryce's hand, stepping on it, instead, causing him to scream out again as his fingers were crushed.

"But when you lie to AND you steal from the hand that feeds you." Jim looked around at everyone as he said this. "There are consequences." Jim kneeled down in front of Bryce who looked up at him, his eyes filled with tears, pleading with Jim.

"Please..." Bryce whispered to Jim, grabbing ahold of him again. "Please Jim, I'm sorry. I was desperate."

Jim grabbed him by his face, snapping his head up to look all the way at him. He looked at the gun in his opposite hand, before looking back at Bryce. The small breeze that was in the air had come completely still, everyone virtually silent as they watched the events unfold. When things first went missing around the house when Michael would hold meetings, they didn't even think to look at Bryce. Not until Michael had trusted him enough to appoint him as Duncan's right hand man. Duncan handled all of the cartel's finances and when he kept coming up short on the days just him and Bryce would do the counting, he caught on rather quickly.

"I liked you Bryce." Jim said, jaw clenched. "I really did. We all did. We loved you almost, but you know the rules, don't you?"

"Jim please..." Bryce whined, starting to cry his eyes out, but only enough for Jim to see and hear. "Please man. I'll do anything. Anything please!"

"What did I tell you happened to those who betrayed the cartel? What is your own way out once you're in? I mean I could just let you go, yeah? But once you walk out those doors you become a liability to me, my brothers, and my family. And I just can't have that."

"Death..." Bryce mumbled. "But we can work something out, please!" Jim chuckled as he let go of Bryce's face, quickly cocking his gun again, before holding Bryce's face up again. He put the gun inside of Bryce's mouth, looking him dead in his eyes.

"Maybe in another life." And with those words said, Jim pulled the trigger, the sounds of bloods and mush splattering across the ground. A few turned their heads, not wanting to see the sight. Jim looked up and back across the pool at his brother who downed the rest of his drink, nodding at Jim.

"Clean it up." Jim said to the disposal crew who stood near by, rising to his feet, and tucking his gun back away. "Everyone else can carry on."

///

The warm water danced on your skin as you stood in the shower, washing away all events from today. You put your face underneath the water for a few seconds before running both of your hands through your hair. When you turned around you were startled by the presence of your husband, Michael, who stood behind you, a little soaked from the backlash of you being underneath the water. His vibrant blue eyes were now several shades darker as he was out of the sun light. He simply just stared at you.

You offered to trade him positions under the water so he could get completely wet too and of course he didn't object. You were now staring at him as he stepped underneath the water, sighing as it hit his skin. He ran his hands over his face as he turned around to face you, getting off as much water as he could before he opened his eyes again to look at you. Water dripped off his skin and your eyes couldn't help but trail all over him. He was so beautiful. His long blonde hair, over shoulder length, completely wet now as the water continued to pour down on him. You almost smiled, remember when Michael told you that he was going to start growing his hair out. He cut it every now and then, but nothing compared to long haired beauty.

"I'm sorry." he spoke, running his hands over his face again. "I know you don't like when.. you know." You walked over to your husband, pressing your forehead against his, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. His large hands found their way to small of your back, pulling you even closer.

"I know..." you mumbled, using your thumbs to rub the back of his neck. "I'm not mad at you, Michael. I just don't want you to become... emotionless."

"Everything I do is to protect you and our boys. Without my family, I am nothing. This empire? We built it, Y/N. Not just me. I'm still here emotionally, but you know it works. He was too much of a liability to just let go. And when the right information gets into the wrong hands, I'm only sure you can imagine what happens."

"Do you ever get afraid, Michael?"

"Only if it deals with you and my sons." he said, looking down at you, smiling. Cheeky bastard.

"I'm being serious. What if one day you go out and don't come back home? What if we get attacked here? What will I do? What will I tell our children?"

"Don't you ever worry about that, my love." Michael reassured you. "As long as my brothers and I are alive and breathing, no one will be in any kind of danger. I promise." Michael brushed his lips across yours as he finished his sentence. You pulled him in for a kiss. A hungry one, it was, as your tongues wasted no time entering each other's mouths, Michael's dominance showing as you basically let him devour you, melting away at his touch. He backed you up against the shower wall and you gasped against him as it was cold. He picked you up and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him like your life depended on it.

"Let me help you forget..." he said against your lips, brushing his nose across yours and you remembered, just how in love you are with Michael.

Taglist: @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake @xavierplympton @jimmason @theneverendinghunger

#cody fern #american horror story #cody fern imagine #ahs #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #jim mason #duncan shepherd #tribes of palos verdes #michael langdon smut #michael langdon x reader

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ihearthes · 3 years

Photo

Quarantine Christmas Part 2

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x y/n Rating: Smut Word Count: 2768 (Part 1) Fiction Chalenge via @caitlin‘s fiction party via @sweetcreatureinthedark

Part 1

December 24, 2020

“Smith!” he bellows way too early and cheerfully as he pounds on my bedroom door. “Happy Christmas Eve! Come on! Let’s go for a jog.”

“Arrrrggggghhhhh,” I growl. “No.”

“If you hike the Hastain Trail with me, I’ll spring for coffee afterwards.”

“Go away, Styles.” Drawing the pillow over my head, I try to block out the sound of his voice.

“Fresh air will be good for you.”

“You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“Not on your life. I hate hiking alone.”

“Fine!” Throwing the covers off, I don my newly cleaned leggings, sports bra, and a t-shirt before opening the door and marching past him in my tennis shoes. “Bully,” I accuse.

“You’re mad that I’m forcing you to take care of yourself?” Although he sounds offended, that smirk is back.

“Whatevs, Styles. Let’s go.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

He sets off at a brisk pace, and I trail behind him slightly. After all, I’m still waking up.

“Keep up, Smith!”

Just to be ornery, I slow my stride, taking my time examining the plants next to the path. When I next glance up, Harry is a solid quarter mile ahead of me, and I contemplate turning back, finding a picnic table and taking a nap on it until he’s done.

But no. That’s not to be, as he turns and jogs back to me, keeping his legs pumping as he moves backwards.

“You’re going to trip on something,” I caution.

He grins. “You care about me!”

My eyes roll so far back into my head that I swear I can see my own brain. “No. But I care about Glenne, and she would be mighty upset if I had a part in damaging you.”

“Mhm.” The smirk is back, and as hard as I try to keep a sour look on my face, it’s challenging. “Where was Christmas supposed to be?” His question is casual, but it causes me to flinch.

“Indiana,” I snap off the word like one would a twig on a dying tree. Immediately, I feel guilty. “Sorry.” My mumble is quiet, but loud enough for him to hear and nod in silent acceptance. “You don’t deserve rudeness. What about you? London?”

“Holmes Chapel. With my mum, my sister, and her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Is it cold there this year?”

“Fairly mild. And Indiana?”

“Cold, cold, cold. Maybe even snow still on the ground.”

“Yeah. Christmas in Los Angeles is quite different.” Harry gestures around the trail, and I smile.

“Definitely.”

“What are your favorite traditions?”

By the time we loop back around to the start of the trail, we’ve exhausted the topic, and I realize my mood has improved tremendously.

“Thank you, Harry.” The words are soft, and I try to insert as much authenticity as I can into them.

I have the pleasure of watching his eyes soften as he observes me over the top of the car. “Coffee next! And a trip to the grocery!”

“Grocery? You’re cooking?”

“WE are baking and then cooking.”

“Really?”

“Yep. We’re going to create a mashup of our traditions.”

“No fucking way!” I exclaim, excited at the prospect. Sitting up, I search for a piece of paper and a pen. “I didn’t bring my purse, Styles. Give me your phone.”

“My phone?” Confused, he gazes at me while at a stoplight.

“I need to write down the ingredients we need to buy. Let’s see. We can’t make some of the cookies we each like because I don’t know if Glenne has cookie cutters in the right shapes. So how about some ginger biscuits?”

When he nods, I gesture for his phone. “Come on, Styles. I need to look up recipes and make sure we get the right ingredients.”

Reluctantly, he unlocks his phone, handing it to me. “No snooping,” he warns, shaking his finger in my direction.

“Puuuuuuullllllleeeeeasssse. As if.” Using his browser, I search for a recipe for the ginger biscuits for him as well as one for thumbprint jam cookies, copying the ingredients into his Notes app.

“Now, for dinner,” he begins, and my fingers pause as I wait for his next words. “Mum used to do a roast, but I don’t eat meat anymore. Just fish. And your family always does turkey. How do we compromise on a protein?”

“Scallops? Salmon? Both delicious and something I would consider fancy enough for a holiday meal.”

“Excellent!” Harry declares. “And can we agree on brussel sprouts and yams?”

My whole being is excited at the prospect of this meal with Harry. Suddenly there’s a silver lining to spending my favorite holiday away from my family.

As he turns off the engine, I rest my hand on his wrist until he twists to look at me. “Thank you, Harry.”

“You already said that.” He rolls his eyes, but the crinkles send a different message.

Less than 30 minutes later, we’re back in the car with the trunk full of groceries, including prosecco. After stopping for the promised coffee, we return to Glenne and Jeffrey’s house, unloading the food.

“Mind if I take a shower before we start?” I ask, looking down at my clothing. “I feel dusty still from the trail.”

“Let’s both shower --” He stalls at my shocked expression “-- in separate bathrooms, Smith. Then let’s see who can put together the worst Christmas outfit from whatever we can find in the guest bedroom where we’re each sleeping.”

A grin crosses my face. “Oh, you’re going down, Styles!” Rushing out of the room, I’m confident that my ears are playing tricks on me because I think he responds with “I would love to go down on you.” He must have said something completely different, and I shake my head to clear the thought.

When I emerge later, I’m wearing my grey sweatpants which I’ve pinned garland to along with one of my green hoodies and a giant wreath draped around my neck like a necklace by a red ribbon. Arriving in the kitchen, I’m stopped in my tracks by the sight of Harry wearing a skirt of wrapping paper over his also-grey sweatpants, along with a variety of bows stuck to his Green Bay Packers hoodie.

He shrugs, “Apparently they use that guest bedroom for storing wrapping paper.”

I laugh as I pluck one of the bows off his hoodie and place it on my chest after removing the wreath.

“You win,” I concede. “I’m surprised there’s so much Christmas stuff in their house.”

“Eh. The Azoff family celebrates everything.”

“Lucky us, then.”

Side by side, we create the dough first for the ginger biscuits and then for the thumbprint cookies. After he slides the first pans into the oven, Harry crosses his arms. “Scrabble while we wait for them to bake?”

“Oh, it’s on!” I agree, and we settle at the dining room table to play the game.

“Fine. You win,” Harry pouts over an hour later as I play my final letter which manages to be on a triple word score tile.

“Woo hoo!” Stuffing one of the ginger biscuits in my mouth, I chew thoughtfully. “These are pretty good. I might make them again next year.”

“Same for these,” Harry grins as he chews on one of the thumbprint cookies. Crossing his arms on the table in front of him, he leans toward me. “Now how about you tell me exactly why you turned down my account when Glenne offered it to you?”

Shock courses through my body, and I freeze, knowing my face is likely turning into a candy cane red.

“She told you?”

“Of course she told me! I had specifically asked for you, so I was a bit heartbroken when she told me that you refused.”

His word choice makes me raise an eyebrow. “Heartbroken?”

“Devastated? Wrecked? Disappointed? Take your pick, Smith.”

Swallowing, I make eye contact with him. “I’ll tell you why I turned down our account if you’ll tell me why you call me Smith.”

His tongue darts out and wets his lips as his green eyes bore into me. “Because you remind me of a Granny Smith apple.” Confusion must sweep across my face, as he continues talking. “You’re tart at first, but you can be sweetened. I’ve witnessed it in the past as well as just the last two days.” His face colors, but he continues speaking anyway. “Plus I suspect you’re incredibly juicy, and I would love a sample.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Had Harry Styles just made a very obvious overture? Yes. Yes, he had. My eyes float over his face, searching for any indication that he’s lying, but the sincerity is striking.

First I look at my entwined hands, and then I decide to show the same courage he has exhibited. “I turned down your account because I couldn’t possibly work for you when I’m this attracted to you. It’s bad form to want to --” I can’t decide on the appropriate word, so I settle for “-- jump your client.”

The smirk is back, and it’s followed by an uproarious laugh. “This is too rich! To think that we could have been having some sort of relationship all this time is mind-numbing.” Rising, he holds out his hand. “How about we consummate our mutual attraction?”

“In the middle of the afternoon on Christmas Eve?”

“You got a better idea of how to spend our time?”

“Swimming?” I tease.

“Smith?”

“Yeah?”

“Take my hand.”

His words and tone make it clear that he’s interested in moving forward with this. My own body’s response is in sync with his. Gently, I place my hand in his as I rise from the table. Twisting his body, he also shifts his hand, leading me in the direction of…where? A bedroom seems too rushed. Not that my hormones would agree.

But no. We walk down the two steps into the living room where he turns on the Christmas tree lights before settling on the couch and tugging my arm so that I join him. “Oh, wait.” Rising, he approaches the sound system, and soon the strains of Christmas music fill the space. Returning to my side, he settles with his arm around me.

“Smith…” His words are a whisper, and I rotate my head in his direction as he brushes his finger over my cheek. When our lips meet, I swear I can hear the angels sing. His mouth is soft and tender, and I twine my fingers through the hand draped over my shoulder as I open wide to allow him to enter. Our tongues tangle in heat and dampness that also seems to pool between my legs. He tastes of the lemon curd thumbprints we had jointly made, and I relish the flavor, wanting more.

Shifting closer to him, I tilt my head to provide greater access, and his hand drifts to my sweatpants. Withdrawing from me, he examines our clothes. “Mind if I remove this garland?”

“Not at all,” I purr. “As long as I can get rid of these bows.” The wrapping paper skirt had already been ruined when we sat down for the Scrabble game.

Rather than unpinning the garland, though, he hooks his thumbs into my waistband and draws the sweatpants over my hips. “Up, Smith.” I lift my bum as he removes my bottoms, leaving me in my panties.

In return, I inch his hoodie up his chest and off, tossing it over my shoulder, heedless of the bows that seem to desire to stay attached to the musician. Can’t say I blame them.

“Hmmmm,” he murmurs before capturing my lips again.

When we come up for air, my hands have managed to roam his chest, tweaking his nipple and wrenching a moan from his mouth. For his part, his hand has drifted over the small piece of cloth separating my treasure from full access. His thumb rubs a pattern over the fabric, and soon I’m panting.

“Fuck,” I mutter as we separate.

“Yes please” is his cheeky reply.

“Dork,” I indict.

“Mhm. Take off that hoodie. Please.”

Willingly, I oblige. Before the material has hit the floor, he’s capturing my nipple in his mouth, and I throw my head back as fire stokes through my body from my tits to my core. “Shit,” I proclaim.

His fingers return to the scrap of cloth covering my center. As his thumb teases my clit through the silk, a finger slips underneath and into me. Without thought, I cry out, my lower body rising from the bed to get closer to heaven.

“Been a while?” His voice is rough, sounding like sandpaper as he dislodges from my breast.

“Too long,” I pant, “but you’ve always had the power to bring me to the brink just with a look.”

“I see,” he smirks, and normally I would want to smack him, but this time, I find it endearing.

“I want --” I gesture to his sweats, and he grins.

“If I refuse?”

“Then my treasure box can close pretty quickly if I don’t have something in my hands.”

Harry laughs. “Fair enough.” Shucking his sweatpants over his hips, I find that he’d chosen not to wear underpants as his cock springs upwards into my waiting hand.

“Shit. I need lubricant.” I complain.

We gaze at each other, the lust clear. Jumping up from the sofa, we race together to Glenne and Jeffrey’s bathroom. I scour the lower cabinets while Harry throws open the linen closet. “Got it!” he announces, holding the bottle over his head.

“Thank God!” My relief is real. Grabbing the bottle from him, I find I can’t move. Now what? Where do we go? We can’t very well do the deed in their bed.

Grabbing my hand, Harry once more takes the lead, and we end up in his guest bedroom. I gesture at the bed, and he strips off the duvet before lying down on his back. Crawling onto the mattress, I settle between his thighs, tilting the bottle of lube and squeezing a fair amount into my hand. Relaxed, I hold my hand over his cock, allowing droplets to fall. His eyes plead with me, and I grin at him.

“Impatient, Styles?”

“Desperate for you, Smith.”

With that pronouncement, I wrap both hands around his length, allowing my fingers to glide gently along his shaft. One hand falls underneath where I can tickle his balls playfully. When his hips start bucking, I withdraw from him completely -- albeit slowly with a final few long strokes.

His eyes fly open, and he pats the bed next to him, so I lie there.

“Smith…”

“Shhhh. Hush, Styles.”

Miraculously he doesn’t say anything, but he does reach out and shift aside the fabric over my vagina before he delves a finger inside. I know I’m wet. Hell, I can feel the dampness.

His finger teases me, and I writhe under his attention.

“Fuck, Styles. I’m gonna…”

“Do it!” he orders, and my lower body creates a bridge as my hips rise into the air while my thighs tremble in ecstasy.

As I land back onto the bed and earth itself from my recent visit to heaven, Harry carefully removes my panties and throws them over his shoulder.

“Condom?” He inquires.

“IUD. You clean?”

“Yep. Got tested not long ago. You?”

“Fuck me, Styles. We deserve this.”

“Indeed,” he grins just before he plunges into me, and I cry out at the feel of his length inside me, filling me and touching every part of me.

“Shit.” My breaths come in short spurts as he pumps into me. I can’t seem to catch my breath as my second orgasm starts building. “Shift to the left, Styles.”

“You got it, Smith. Can you scratch at my back?”

“You bet.”

The communication is nice as we guide each other to what pleases us the most. As much as I want to take our time, it’s not nearly long enough before I feel my insides begin to clench in a familiar way.

“Fuck, Styles. I’m coming!”

“Me too, Smith! Fuuuuuuuuuccccccckkkkkk!” He stretches the word into multiple syllables as I feel his seed squirting into my womb, stopped only by my birth control. His fingers reach between our bodies as he manipulates my clit until I see stars and arch my lower body to become closer to him.

Collapsing on top of me, his breathing is as uneven as my own.

“Merry Christmas, Smith,” he murmurs while we’re still joined.

“Merry Christmas, Styles,” I reply, hugging his body tightly to mine. No telling if we have a future, but this holiday is going to be one for the books.

A/N: This short story is dedicated to those who aren’t able to join family this Christmas due to the Coronavirus. Be safe. Be healthy. Make the best of the situation. Sending you BIG HUGS!

#harry styles #original writing #my writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles reader insert #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction

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zutaralesbian · 3 years

Note

villaneve + fluff prompt #1! (i could not resist fluff prompt #1 as a concept for them!)

1. “Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?”

Eve was nervous. Nervous and frustrated.

It had taken a long time to convince Carolyn that both she and Villanelle were worth having on the team, all of their history considered. And while this wasn't near the first time Villanelle had been late to a meeting, Eve could tell that Carolyn's patience was beginning to grow thin. The last thing Eve needed was for Carolyn to decide that Villanelle (and by extension, Eve) wasn’t worth her time. Neither of them had anywhere else to go at the moment.

Just as Eve was about to pick her phone up and send Villanelle a very colorfully worded text, the door to the conference room flew open.

"Sorry I'm late everyone!" Villanelle, or rather Amelia Evans said in a sickingly sweet British accent. There were a few people in the room that knew Villanelle's true identity but to everyone else, she was Amelia Evans. Carolyn had suggested the fake identity in order to keep the peace and throw the twelve off their tracks. "Traffic was absolutely bonkers today." She walked over to the table Eve was sitting at and placed a styrofoam cup of coffee in front of her, smiling sweetly. "I got you your regular, Eve."

Eve looked down at the coffee cup. In truth, she had always liked how Villanelle consistently remembered to pick up coffee for her every morning before work. The thought made her smile the smallest amount.

That smile quickly vanished, however, when she took a good look at Villanelle.

"Is that my shirt?" She spoke the words in a heated whisper.

She had already answered her own question of course. Villanelle was wearing her salmon colored sweater. It looked out of place on her because it was. It was an article of clothing that Villanelle had continuously called hideous in the past so Eve knew she wasn't wearing it as any sort of fashion statement. She was wearing it to make some sort of point.

"You mean our shirt?" Villanelle responded with a smile. To anyone else it would probably look innocent. Eve knew her well enough to see the smug glint in her eyes. She also knew that Villanelle was fully aware of what them sharing clothes would look like to others. She shot her a glare and stood up from her chair.

"Ahem," coughed a voice. Eve turned back to look at Carolyn, who was seated on the opposite end of the table. She was giving them a thoroughly unimpressed look. "Eve, it seems like you and Amelia have some things to work out. Mind doing it outside so that you two don't interrupt this meeting more than you already have?" Carolyn's voice was cool and controlled but Eve could sense the impatience within it.

Holding back, Eve gave her a brief nod before heading towards the exit, grabbing Villanelle's arm and dragging her along with her.

Once they were outside the conference room and the door was firmly shut behind them, Eve immediately went into defense. "What the hell do you think you were doing?"

Villanelle put on that clueless look Eve had always hated, the one where she pretended to not know what she was talking about. She ditched the fake accent and reverted back to her normal voice. "I don't know why you're so angry, Eve. I needed to borrow a shirt...."

"Oh shut up," Eve snapped. "You know exactly what that looked like."

This had been a topic of conflict for them a while now. The thing was, Eve wasn't entirely ready to admit to the world that she was fucking and in a maybe-sort-of-relationship with an ex murderous assassin turned bounty hunter. She was still trying to wrap her own head around how their relationship had shifted so drastically in such a short time. She had no idea how to begin to explain it to anyone else.

This of course didn't bode well for Villanelle though. Eve was finding that she was just as hot-headed and jealous as ever, especially when one of their co-workers, male or female, appeared a little too friendly towards Eve. That was something that hadn't changed and likely never would. Honestly, deep down, Eve knew that she was lucky it had taken this long for Villanelle to start acting up. And that it wasn’t a bigger explosion.

Somehow that didn't take away any of her irritation.

"It looked like what? Like we're together?" Villanelle challenged. Her false innocent act melted away to show her own anger. "I want people to know."

There it was.

"I told you I needed time."

"I've given you time! I've never waited for something this long in my life."

Even though it had only been about a month since they started this....relationship, Eve had a feeling that was true. Villanelle had never been known for her patience. There was a sudden vulnerability in her voice that made Eve stop in her tracks in what she had been about to say. She couldn't help but think back to the last time Villanelle had been someone's secret and wonder whether the desire to be public about their relationship went deeper than just jealousy and possessiveness.

Eve softened at the idea.

"Okay," she said gently. Villanelle looked up at her in surprise, clearly not expecting her to back down so easily. "We'll tell them."

Villanelle's eyes lit up. "Now?"

Eve shook her head. "Carolyn will report us to the twelve herself if we interupt the meeting again." Reaching up, she placed a hand softly against Villanelle's cheek. "Sometime this week. The next time Charles talks to me you can tell him I'm taken."

"I can do more than that..."

"No," Eve said firmly, even if she couldn't help but chuckle at how ready Villanelle seemed to be to drop her new no more killing people vow. "Just tell him."

Villanelle sighed. "Fine."

To show her appreciation, Eve leaned up to plant a kiss on Villanelle's lips, letting it linger for a few moments before speaking again. "You need to stop being late to these meetings. Carolyn's patience is running thin."

Villanelle made a face. "I don't want to work with her anyway."

"I don't either. But we don't have a choice. It's the only thing keeping us from being easily tracked down by the twelve. And we agreed that we're in this together now."

After a moment of hesitation, Villanelle nodded, her eyes displaying a softness that only Eve was really privy to these days.

"Yes, we are."

#set in a post s3 world where they're working with carolyn together idk lol #this was fun #villaneve #killing eve #dollsome-does-tumblr #my fic #answered

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wyofabdoms · 3 years

Text

Undercover I Do - Chapter6

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Mature (Eventual smut)

Warnings: fake/pretend relationship, married and undercover trope, temporary amnesia, injury, swearing, domestic Javi, feelings, I have no idea how amnesia really works, brief mention of masturbation

Word Count: 5220 (Whoopsie!)

Notes: Home from the hospital, you settle into your home with Javi and continue trying to remember...

Read on Ao3

You come home from the hospital on a Friday midmorning and spend much of the day resting in bed...it seems like the simple task of walking up your apartment steps takes so much out of you. When you enter the apartment, Javi greets you carefully, timidly, giving you a gentle and almost awkward hug around the shoulders and watches you carefully as you gaze around. When you catch him looking at you, he inquires if you’re hungry. You admit that you are and he goes to work reheating the food he had had the insight to order. He gets you situated at the table with a glass of water and your food and joins you soon after. As the two of you eat, you notice a small bouquet of flowers in the middle of the kitchen table and when you ask your husband about them, he dips his head and grunts something about being from some of the guys at work.

You chat idly during lunch and spend some time looking at the pictures on the refrigerator door and tracing your fingers along the spines of the books on the bookshelf in contemplation while Javi cleans up after. You pick up the wedding photo of the two of you from a bookshelf and trace a finger along the sliver of distance separating the two of you in the picture, casting your thoughts into the empty depths of your recent memory, trying to remember this moment, this day. You sense him behind you and replace the frame quickly where it was before turning and mentioning to Javier that you're a little worn out; he immediately encourages you to lie down and rest, ushering you towards the bedroom before leaving you alone for privacy to change.

Opening your closet door, you quickly find a pair of sweatpants. As you search for a shirt, your eyes slip from the side of the closet that is obviously yours and over to your husband’s side. You notice a lovely purple colored button-up on the edge of the rack and reach for it without thinking, pulling it over your head, breathing deeply as it passes over your face. You plan to take it off, but your eyes can’t seem to open once the worn-soft material is settled on your skin. Even though it’s silly and it's just a shirt, something about knowing that it’s one of your husband’s seems to cocoon you with comfort and peace. Which, you know, is crazy: this man...your husband...this level of intimacy with your former partner at this moment could make him practically a stranger. But this feels...right. You reach for another shirt, then another, then one of yours...you pull a dress off a hanger, then a suit jacket from Javier’s side. You bury your face in each item, hoping that something will knock loose. That something will blow the fog from your mind.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you hear him tap on the bedroom door and you shake yourself from where you’ve settled on the closet floor. You call to him quietly, your voice ringing loudly in the small space that surrounds you and a few moments later you hear his concerned voice as he realizes where you are, his voice rising an octave as he says your name.

“Hey! What happened? Are you ok?” You can hear the concern in his voice as he rushes to you, traipsing over the pieces of clothing surrounding you and dropping to his knees next to you, filling the small walk-in closet with his presence, making it seem even smaller with the two of you crouched on the floor. He cups your face in his hands carefully, turning you up to look at him, searching your eyes for any sign of pain. You take in a pull of air at the sudden intimacy of the touch and his closeness. His scent washes over you: Old Spice and cigarette smoke and something that is distinctly manly, distinctly Javi. You carefully touch his wrist with one hand, trying to reassure him.

“I’m fine,” you say, huffing out a small laugh and gently pulling your face away from his hands. He doesn’t believe you. “No, really, I’m ok. I just…” you gesture around at the clothes and shoes and belts and ties hanging in the closet, one side carefully arranged by color, the other looking as though it had been haphazardly shoved onto the rack in five minutes without much thought. You duck your head, feeling slightly stupid. “...I was...smelling.” You can barely get the last word out. Javi looks at you confused for a few moments. You glance up at him just as you see understanding cross his face as he surveys the clothing you’re clutching in your hands and covering your lap, next to you on the floor.

“You were trying to remember…?” You nod miserably, trying to avoid his gaze. He puts two fingers under your chin and carefully lifts your face to look at him. His eyes are kind, sympathetic, curious. “Any luck?” You shake your head, sadly.

“No, not...not really. Not much more than I’ve already remembered.” You suddenly feel even more tired than when you had first arrived, not just physically but as though your brain is ten times too large for your head and filled with slippery sand. You feel your body sag against his hand and he reaches his arm around your shoulder, supporting you. He takes the salmon colored button-up of his that you’re holding clutched to your chest and tosses it into the pile of other clothes, then carefully helps you to your feet. He gently steers you to the bed, arranging you there before tenderly pulling a soft blanket up over you, flicking on the small lamp next to the bed. He moves to close the curtains, darkening the space and his shadow whispers from across the room that he’ll be right back. You feel yourself getting sleepy as you relax into the pillows, Javi’s touch and scent a comforting echo.

As promised he returns a few minutes later and places several items on the nightstand: a glass of water, some magazines, a book with a bookmark in it, the cordless phone, a piece of paper, and a handgun...your firearm, you realize.

He arranges them in order of least to greatest importance it seems: the phone, paper and water closest to you. He sits next to you on the bed as you settle yourself more deeply into the pillow, suddenly finding it nearly impossible to keep your eyes open. Half of his face is hidden in the shadow cast from the soft lamp light; the image he cuts is reminiscent of the space he takes up in your memory: mysterious, half hidden in darkness...but comforting and caring.

“I need to go in to work for a few hours.” His voice is low and gentle and washes over you like a lullaby. He brushes your hair out of your face, his sudden touch causing your droopy eyes to open wide again suddenly. He removes his hand quickly, as though your gaze on him burns him. He swallows hard and nods towards the night stands. “The office number and my pager number are written down, so if you need anything at all, you call me...ok?” You nod sleepily and he stands, tucking you under the blanket more carefully, checking if you need anything else. When you shake your head, he nods and you see him hesitate for several long moments, hovering over you, seemingly partaking in some great inner struggle. Then he carefully leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. He pulls away and whispers into your hair. “I’ll be back soon. You rest, cariño.” Then he reaches over and snaps off the lamp…

...and then, just like your memories of him, your husband is gone in the dark.

You’re not sure how much time passes, but when you wake up, the apartment is still empty and the shadows have drifted from one side of the room to the other. Feeling refreshed, you move carefully around the apartment, investigating the little things that make up a person’s home. Your grumbling stomach directs you back into the kitchen and you rummage through cabinets after finding nothing much edible in the refrigerator. Finding a package of pasta and an unopened jar of sauce you start water to boiling and as you wait, you’re drawn back to the refrigerator as you pour yourself another glass of water. You remove the photo of Javier in a graduation cap and gown with...his father? It must be. You smile as you study the slightly blurry photo featuring a younger version of Javi and seek out resemblance between your husband's face and that of the older man in the photo. You see similarity in his father’s eyes, perhaps, along with an extreme amount of pride. You wonder if you’ve met him? Was he at your wedding?

Thoughts of your wedding cause you to go wandering again back into the living room and back to the wedding photo on the bookshelf. You pick it up and carry it around the room with you as you continue your investigation. You recognize some of the pictures and artwork hanging on the wall: that painting was from a brief stint you did in Cuba. That ceremonial mask you found at a floating market in Cambodia. And that pencil drawing you had picked up at a Saturday flea market while visiting a colleague in Atlanta. You remember what a headache it had been shipping your belongings here two years ago...how customs had had such a field day keeping your stuff detained and how you had lived in this stark apartment for three weeks before Dixon and the Embassy had stepped in and your things had finally been delivered.

By that time, you remember, you had already made two lab busts, witnessed a fairly violent interrogation, been shot at twice and had raced through the streets of Bogota after a group of sicarios. You had also already fended off multiple advances from her handsome partner, Javier Peña, which had culminated when he had slid his hand up her inner thigh, resulting in your socking him across the chin and knocking him off his stool in the crowded work bar. You grinned at that memory, then your grin faded as a new image took its place: it was blurry, muted, like listening to a cassette tape that was playing at a ten times slower speed, warped and in slow motion...only playing out in images. You remembered a man’s hand sliding up your inner thigh, brushing against you. You couldn’t see the man’s face, couldn't tell anything else about him other than he was hovering above you. Was it your husband? You didn’t think so. Javi might feel like a stranger to you right now, but you knew in your very core that he was safe, that he was good...kind. But you felt cold at the memory of this man.

Then just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, and you were just left holding the picture frame, standing in front of your record player.

***

Javi heard the music halfway down the building staircase. He thinks about knocking, but he doubts she’d be able to hear him over the music. He juggled the grocery bags in his arms, fishing her apartment key out of his jacket pocket and struggling to get the door open. When he does finally manage, the sounds of Three Dog Night covering “Your Song” nearly bowls him over. He deposits the groceries on the kitchen table, startled to find a pot of nearly empty water steaming and popping, having boiled over on the stove. He clicks off the heat, removes the scorched pot, then steps into the living room to find his partner sitting on the floor in front of the record player, sleeves and vinyl records strewn around her, her back against the living room couch. The “wedding” photo has been moved and is sitting on the coffee table at eye level. She stares at the photo of the two of you, her brow furrowed in concentration. He can see frustration behind her eyes, too, and he notices that her eyes are puffy and red. She’s clearly been crying.

He moves to the player and turns the volume down. She barely registers his presence until he sits next to her on the couch. The movement on the cushions behind her startles her and she jumps, jerking away from him.

“Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa…” Javi leans away, his hands raised. “It’s just me.” Recognition crosses her face and she settles back into her previous position, sighing heavily. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“No. I’m sorry. I was...I wasn’t paying attention.” She looks back at the photograph in front of her. Javi looks at it, too, then back at her, studying her face. She turns to him, and he sees her eyes sparkling with tears building up there, filled with questions. Javi juts his chin towards the blaring player.

“I never have understood why you like these guys so much.” He smiles at her, hoping to distract her. She returns his smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, still reflecting the sadness he sees in there. She gestures to the scattered records on the floor.

“I was trying to remember again. I thought...I thought maybe a song might help me remember something. I got to looking at our wedding picture and thought maybe I could remember a song we danced to or something. I…” her brows lowered over her eyes and she seemed to be studying something in the distance that only she could see. “I keep remembering…” Javi looks at her eagerly but he doesn’t rush her. “You and me...at least, I think it's you and me...dancing somewhere. It’s like watching a silent movie with all of the faces blacked out, like witness protection, and everything in the background is blurry, like it’s out of focus. But I’m…” her voice trails off again and she looks up into his face curiously. “I’m almost sure it’s you. We’re at some kind of...celebration I think, like maybe a club or something? I thought maybe…” Another hesitation. “I thought maybe it was our wedding. Maybe some music added with what I can remember might clear the other stuff up, but…” She shakes her head. “Nothing seems to be working.” Back to him again. “Do we go dancing a lot or something? Did we have a song? Like a song we danced to a lot, like at our wedding?”

Javi gulps, not quite sure how to answer all of her questions. He thinks for a moment.

“We, uh….no, we don’t really...we don’t really go out dancing or anything like that. Work keeps us pretty busy.” That’s all true, he thinks to himself. No lies. He’s more careful with the next of her questions. “We didn’t...that…” he gestures at the photo, avoiding using the term “our wedding”. “...Was pretty informal. There wasn’t a reception or anything. It was small. We didn’t have dancing or anything like that.” She nods in understanding. “And we don’t…” he shakes his head. “No song or anything…” he chuckles a little. “I’m more of a rock, country kind of guy, we never really seem to agree on taste in music.” Also true, he thinks, recalling the multiple arguments they’ve had over the radio station on stakeouts and when driving to locations throughout the city. She smiles distractedly, mumbling something about how it must be an older memory with someone else, then. She seems to think of something.

“I saw the picture on the fridge of you and your dad. Have I met him? When we got married or anything like that? I can’t remember him.” Javi shakes his head, again thinking for a moment before answering.

“No, you’ve never met. He doesn’t really travel much, he’s got the ranch back home to worry about. He hasn’t had a chance to make it down.”

“So we got married here? In Columbia?” Javi felt his throat stick...this was dangerous territory; surely she would want to know about her own family, whether they had come down for the “nuptials”.

He and Dixon (along with her doctor) had spent the afternoon on the phone with her parents and family in America, filling them in on the situation. Over the course of their conversations, they had all agreed that, should she reach out to any of them, they would also play along with the “married to Javier” ruse for as long as it seemed to be appropriate. Javi had heard the uncertainty in their voices when they had inquired as to just how carefully Javier would be “looking after” her. He had done his best to assure them that he would respect their daughter and sister, that he would do everything he could to abide by their relationship boundaries prior to her memory loss. And, he had reiterated what the doctor had said from the beginning; he had promised them that he would not lie to her. Realistically, though, everyone had walked away from the conversation understanding that he may very well have to bend some boundaries in this situation. By the end of the conversation, the family had given him their blessing and had made him promise to stay in regular contact with them. He had been exhausted when he had left work, feeling the weight of his partner’s recovery on his shoulders.

But he wouldn’t have it any other way; she was his partner. He would have her back no matter what.

“It was...sort of spur of the moment, happened pretty fast.” Before she could ask any more questions he sat up straight and smacked his palms on his legs. “Hey, are you hungry? I haven't eaten all day and I got some stuff-”

“Oh God! I started some water boiling and…” she jumped from her spot on the floor. Javi stood at the same time.

“Yeah...we’re probably gonna need a new pot.” She looked at him sheepishly, mumbling an apology. He gives her a teasing grin and for a moment it felt like before: giving her a good natured hard time and her ready to fire back at him, both of them comfortable with the ribbing back and forth.

But then she crossed her arms in front of her chest and he felt the barrier of unfamiliarity rise between them again.

They fall into a familiar ease as they go about preparing dinner. Javi is reassured by how easily she becomes comfortable with him. The moments when she had jerked away from him when he was near her had him a little worried, but there are none of that now, as they move around each other, next to each other.

“Why don’t you let me deal with the sauce,” she says over the soft sounds of music coming from the radio in the window. She puts a gentle hand on his bicep and pushes just slightly to move him away. “You always oversalt things anyway.” Javi chuckled and shifted over to the pork chops in the pan...it took him a moment to register what she had just said.

“Hey!” He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “You remember that?” She seems startled by the fact that, yes, in fact, she did remember that. She looked at him, a dazed smile on her face.

“I guess...yeah, I do remember saying that to you before.”

“Yeah,” he grins, nodding at her encouragingly. “You never let me cook anything...you claim I put too much salt on stuff because-” She cuts him off and finishes the thought as it comes to her.

“-You’ve scorched all your tastebuds from smoking like a chimney!” Her eyes light up in delight when he chuckles, affirming that that’s exactly what she always says. She laughs carefully, following the memory, seeing if it might lead her to anything else.

Javi recalls other nights like this one when, either in his apartment or hers, when they have worked together to make a meal, moving in unison just like they did tonight, just like they do at work. He had never allowed himself to venture any further past the thought of: we make a good team. More than once, Javier had found himself lightheaded and felt his heart tug as he gazed at his partner through a cloud of smoke from his cigarette, watching her laugh across the table at something he had said, appreciating the way she would curl herself into a ball with her feet tucked beneath her on the couch as they watch some terrible movie, admiring the curve of her neck or the rounding of her hips and backside as she stood at the sink to do dishes.

He glanced at her now, his gaze taking in that same curve of a neck, drifting upwards to her face, studying the shape of her nose, the flush of pink across her cheeks from the stove heat and the memory. He marveled at how long her eyelashes were and was hypnotized everytime she blinked and they brushed against her face. A wisp of hair fell out of her ponytail and across her forehead; she tried to blow it out of the way without stopping what she was doing. Not thinking, he reached out and brushed the strand away from her skin, his fingertips ghosting across her face. She started only a little, nothing like the other times he had touched her. He pulled his hand back quickly, realizing he had been lulled by the domesticity of the moment, allowed himself to lapse into an intimacy that he did not actually have with his partner…

...when she turned her face to his, he was startled by what he saw in her eyes. A curiosity flitted across her face, but in her eyes he very clearly saw want, saw desire. She tilted her head upwards towards him a little bit more and he felt her body, already close to his, almost imperceptibly shift and lean into him ever more so slightly. It was an invitation, a go ahead. His eyes drifted down to her mouth and he felt himself stir when her lips parted and he saw the tip of her tongue streak across from one corner to another, wetting the skin. His heart started pounding. Luckily, the buzzing of a timer saved him from having to analyze what to do next. He had never removed something from the oven so fast in his life! The charged moment was blessedly broken and as they put the final touches on their meal, he was careful to keep his distance.

They enjoyed their food, their conversation mostly about older memories from when they first worked together, which didn’t require him to be quiet as cautious with his words. They were memories she already had, things she knew. As they finished, she started clearing plates while Javi ran water in the sink. As though by wrot, he rolled up his shirt sleeves and started washing while she started drying and (he noted) putting dishes away confidently, as though she remembered where every plate and utensil belonged. As he was finishing the last tray, a familiar song filtered through the radio speakers. His head came up and he started.

“Oh! That was us!” He said excitedly. When she just looked at him in confusion he dried his hands on the towel and spoke quickly. “The memory you were talking about earlier, of us dancing. It was us.” He nodded towards the radio as a sultry dance tune played. “A few weeks ago, we were….ahhh...we were at a birthday party. It was in a club like you said and...yeah, this song was playing. And you and I danced to it.”

He felt his cheeks color as he recalled exactly how they had danced after a few tequila shots with Ortiz and their guise as a couple in full swing. He had never wanted anyone as badly as he had wanted her that night, one hand gripping her wiggling hips, pressing her ass back against him, the other tracing up her outer thigh, pulling the hem of her already deliciously short skirt higher so he could access the soft skin there. She had pressed herself back into his chest, had lifted her arms above her head and behind his neck, one hand gripping in his hair, the other gently caressing the side of his face, stroking his ear, pulling his lips down to that spot on her exposed neck…

He gulped as he refocused his concentration on looking for more dishes to wash. “I...forgot about it. But you were right. That was us.” He released the plug in the soapy water and looked at her. “That was a recent one! A recent memory. From during the…” he caught himself before he said “undercover op.” “...During the time you haven't been able to remember.” Her face lit up, then fell again almost instantly.

“It’s so random, though. And it's taken so long just to remember that one thing…and not very well, it seems.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” When she still looked frustrated he gently touched her shoulder. “Be patient with yourself, ok. We’ve all just gotta...we all just need to be patient.” He sighed and gave her a smile. “But, hey! This is really great, right?” She said nothing, just looked at him forlornly. “Come on, it is! You’ve remembered something recent.” When she merely shrugged and stayed quiet, he propped a hand against the counter and leaned on it, jutting out a hip and putting a fist on his waist. He leaned forward and stared into her face until she made eye contact with him. He said her name meaningfully. “This is good news. It’s gonna be ok. I promise.” She smiled after a moment, then nodded in agreement. “Whadya say we celebrate. I’ll run out and get some of that orangesicle ice cream junk you like. I’ll even let you decide what to watch on TV.”

She smiled again at the sweet gesture, but shook her head meekly

“I’m still a little tired, Javi. I’m sorry.” He assured her there was no need to apologize and that he understood, of course she needed to rest. Listening to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom, he collapsed on the living room couch, sighing heavily. His brain hurt from concentrating on not saying anything he shouldn’t with her. He wasn’t too terribly sad about the fact that she was ready to head to bed.

Bed.

He sat upright quickly and then scurried into the bedroom just as he heard the tap turning off in the bathroom across the hall. He rummaged around in the closet quickly, grabbing a spare pillow he’d seen there earlier when he’d unpacked his things, as well as an extra bed sheet. He rushed out the bedroom door just as the door to the bathroom opened…

...Javi had never been so grateful for a pillow. He felt himself harden in his jeans as she froze, clutching her clothes to her chest. She had a towel wrapped around her, but it left nothing to the imagination. He felt like a deer caught in the beam of a headlight, and he had to remind himself to breathe. He screamed at himself to stop staring, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her flushed, pink skin, her silky smooth legs, the way her wet hair framed her face and danced over her bare shoulders, shedding drops of water onto her skin. He followed the route of one particular drop as it left her hair, fell to her clavicle, slid down her chest, over the curve of her breast and disappeared beneath the towel. He gulped, willing himself not to lick his lips.

“Sorry…” He was slightly horrified by the high pitched croak that was his voice as he forced the word from his throat. He cleared his throat and finally managed to tear his eyes away from her, staring down at the pillow and sheet in his hands, stepping out of her way. “Sorry,” he said again. “I just, uh...wanted to get a pillow so I didn’t have to bother you…” He watched her carefully from beneath his eyelashes; saw understanding, then relief, then….disappointment?...flash across her face in an instant.

“Oh…”she said softly. “Well…” He glanced up at her again as she carefully moved towards the bedroom...he moved further from her naked body down the hall. “I...I feel badly that you’re sleeping on the couch…That….that won’t be very comfortable…” He nearly lost his mind when he caught her biting her lip, knowing that she was thinking, weighing how comfortable she would be with offering to let him sleep in the bed with her. He grimaced to himself. As far as she knew, that was “their” bed, and it should be the most natural thing in the world for a husband and wife to both climb into bed together and share the space for sleep.

And he certainly wouldn’t have minded climbing into bed with her, not in this moment, not after seeing her like this.

But they absolutely wouldn’t be sleeping.

“No, it’s ok.” He saved her the trouble of having to make a decision. “The couch is fine.” She twisted her face, not believing him one bit. “Really. You need to rest. It’s ok.” He turned and started towards the living room reminding her to call for him or wake him up if she needed anything. He heard her soft voice call his name behind him and he looked back at her.

“Thank you.”

He smiled, feeling her words go straight to that secret, soft spot in his heart that only she could seem to get to. He nodded and murmured good night before she closed the bedroom door between them.

Javi tossed his bedding onto the couch and plopped down after it, still feeling his pants stretching uncomfortably across his groin, the memory of her standing wet and nearly naked in front of him seared into his brain. It was all he could do to not take himself in his hand right then and pump himself to completion at the memory of that drop of water on her skin, the feel of their bodies grinding together in that club, how her hand had gripped and tugged in his hair.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he muttered to himself. You gotta at least wait until she’s asleep, Peña! He did wonder what would happen at the thought of her catching him thinking about her, groaning her name softly as he came in his own hand…

Stop being a pervert, you asshole! He chided himself stretching out on the couch and flipping on the TV, searching for something desperately boring to distract himself with.

How the hell was he ever going to be able to do this?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos #javi #undercover marriage #fake marriage

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i-stan-nct-and-satan · 4 years

Text

Not Broken Part 12 (Jaehyun Mafia AU)

Not Broken Masterlist

Jaehyun X Reader

Trigger warning: mentions of abuse

I stayed in my room for several hours, just staring at the minimalistic digital clock Taeyong had set onto the vanity. It was 2:58, past the time Taeyong said lunch would be delivered to my room. In any other circumstance, I would have just gone to the kitchen and made something myself, but I really didn’t want to run into anybody from 127, especially not the pink-haired mobster himself. I hadn’t eaten at all that day, nor had I had anything to drink other than the tap from the bathroom. There were no cups to be found so I scooped the water into my mouth with my hands.

I wondered if they had forgotten about me or if there was a delay. Either way, the hunger was becoming too uncomfortable to ignore.

I glanced at the door, wondering who on earth could be on the other side. I was almost too afraid to find out. On one hand, it was very possible that they would turn out to be a staff member rather than an actual member of Nct given that Taeyong explained that they had a few staff members on hand that doubled as bodyguards. I couldn’t imagine that Nct 127 would waste any of their members’ time just to stand guard at my door, yet on the other hand, I couldn’t get rid of the sinking feeling that if I chose to find out I’d be confronted with someone like Doyoung whom I’m sure wouldn’t be so pleased with having to escort me around.

I decided to come up with an excuse to open the door, that way if it turned out to be someone I didn’t feel comfortable with, I could just ask them to clarify a rule for me or something. I supposed I could also tell them that I was hungry, but I didn’t think that Doyoung would want to be sent on an errand either.

After I made the decision to open the door, I suddenly became excited at the prospect of being able to leave the room I had just spent three hours in unable to do anything but stare at my bruises in the bathroom mirror, take nearly an hour-long shower, and look through the clothes in the closet. There definitely wasn’t anything I felt comfortable wearing in there and although I knew I shouldn’t feel any guilt asking for clothing more suited to my style, I didn’t have the guts the make the request.

I took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves before I knocked on the door.

Nothing.

Was there no one on the other side?

Knock knock.

I instantly became confused by the sudden knocking that came from the other side of the door. I knocked again only for them to knock again.

Wanting to know what was going on, I opened the door to see the blonde-haired boy I’ve come to know as Mark, fist still raised in the air.

“What are you doing?” I asked him, too puzzled by his actions to feel any relief that it was him and not Doyoung.

“Knocking,” He answered, matter of factly.

“Why?” I asked.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that? It makes a lot more sense for someone outside of the room to knock on the door than someone inside of the room.”

“What? I mean, you’re not wrong but I just...”

Mark began to laugh softly at my perplexed state. Despite feeling even more confused by his reaction, I did feel less nervous than before.

“I’m just messing with you,” He revealed with a warm smile.

“What do you need?”

“Oh, um... I was just wondering if I could have something to eat.”

“Sure, no problem, let me just call the cook and have him bring something up,” He agreed, taking out his phone.

“W-wait.”

Mark paused.

“I was hoping I’d be able to leave my room at some point since there isn’t much to do.”

Mark stared at me as he processed my words and I worried that he would deny my request.

“Oh, I get it. Okay, sure,” He agreed.

“Yeah, I forgot that they didn’t really give you anything to do.”

“Yeah...” I confirmed, not wanting to sound like I was complaining.

“Well, did you want to go now?”

“Yes, if that is okay.”

Instead of responding, Mark just started laughing. I couldn’t understand why because I hadn’t said anything particularly funny, so I just started awkwardly laughing with him.

“Yeah, no problem. Let’s go.”

We walked down a long hallway, and down a long flight of stairs that looked like something the Queen of England would step down to treat her guests.

When we finally got to the kitchen, there were already several people inside, none of which I had ever seen before.

“Come on, Chenle. You need to eat.”

A man with blonde hair and a faded blue fringe whose out-of-the-blue hairstyle made it look like he had literally ran out of blue hair dye and made Doyoung’s blue highlights look normal in comparison, was sitting at small kitchen table with two boys who looked to be in their mid-teens. In another part of the kitchen was an athletic looking man who seemed too busy cooking to notice that we had come in. He had light sandy brown hair that looked like it had been shadow permed and was wearing a short-sleeved shirt under a salmon colored apron. He was peeling potatoes and I couldn’t help but stare at his developed arm muscles that were more defined than any of the 127 members I had seen thus far, with the exception of Jaehyun, himself. The apron did nothing to take away from his masculine features and anyone who thought it did would have to be extremely antagonistic towards the color salmon.

The older male at the table looked up at us. Apparently, my fascination with the other gentleman must have been obvious since my attention was immediately brought back to him as he cleared his throat.

“You must be Y/N,” He commented, getting up from the table.

“Hello,” I greeted.

“Ah, uh, yes. Hello. My name is Jaemin. I’m the nanny,” He wavered in his response.

The man offered his hand and I shook it.

“And these are Chenle and Jisung,” He gestured to the two boys still sitting at the table.

I glanced at them, not fully understanding who they were. One of them, I didn’t know which was which, had blonde hair that had a bit more yellow in it than most people would have preferred. It was strange but he almost looked scared of me. His features made it seem as though he were experiencing great discomfort. He avoided my gaze choosing instead to stare at the full plate of food that sat in front of him.

The other boy, whose plate was almost empty, had dark brown hair and an extremely small face. His expression reminded me of those mean girls in the movies when they were weirded out by someone less popular than them. He didn’t look mean though, just confused as to why I was there. The two of them didn’t resemble each other in the slightest so I assumed that they were unrelated.

“What happened to your face?” The second boy blurted out.

“Jisung!” Jaemin snapped before turning back to me.

“I’m so sorry about that,” He apologized.

“It’s alright, but who are they?” I whispered the last part.

“Oh, those are Jaehyun’s younger brothers,” Mark answered for him.

“Brothers?”

Guess I was wrong about them not being related.

“Yes, and don’t worry. They’ve been caught up on everything, including your lack of involvement in the... issue at hand.”

I hadn’t even thought of the possibility that they had even known about my existence let alone about the suspicion that I was involved in their sister’s death.

They really know everything that’s going on? At such a young age? No, it made sense. In this type of family, I’m sure that they are fully aware of their brother’s business and probably have been for quite some time. Maybe they’re even being trained to eventually become members.

“Have you put anything on... to... umm... treat that?” Jaemin asked as I continued to stare off into space.

“Oh, umm, no.”

“Hang on a second. I might have some vitamin K cream somewhere. Would you all keep an eye on the boys for a quick second?”

“Ah, I, umm,” I hesitated.

“I’ll handle it, Jaemin.”

I turned around to see the aproned man who had been busy cooking up to this point smile over at us.

“Awesome! Be right back,” Jaemin confirmed before hurrying out of the kitchen.

The man who had volunteered to watch the boys rinsed his hands and dried them on a spare cloth before making his way over.

“Hi, what can I do for you?” He asked in a pleasant tone.

“Hey Jeno, this is Y/N. We came to get her something to eat,” Mark took the lead in answering for you.

“Ah, yes. Miss Y/N. I was informed of your new status as a guest here just recently. I apologize for the delay. You can sit down at the table with Jisung and Chenle while I finish preparing your lunch.”

“Oh, so you’re the chef?” I asked, wanting to know more about the strangely attractive man, totally oblivious to my appearance.

“Hm? Oh, kind of. I’m actually-”

“The butler,” Mark interrupted.

I turned to Mark and gave him an expression I can only describe as “Dude, what the fuck?”

“Well yes, butler, director of the household. It’s all the same. Stand-in-chef while the other staff is away. I pretty much do whatever is required of me in order to keep the house from burning down.”

“Oh wow. That’s impressive, especially with a house as big as this,” I beamed.

I was surprised since someone of his stature seemed as though they would fit in perfectly as a gang member, but his kind eyes gave away his lack of involvement with the group’s more criminal activities.

“Not really, I have lots of great staff to help me. Anyways, have a seat and I’ll bring a plate over once everything’s prepared.”

Mark and I sat down at the table and it was... awkward.

Jisung and Chenle just stared at me as if I had three eyes... or maybe just two black ones.

“Did someone from 127 really do that to you?” Chenle asked looking noticeably sick.

Someone?

What I wanted to say was that their brother did this to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell two teenaged boys how much of a monster their brother really was. Even if he deserved it, they didn’t.

“Uh, umm...”

“I’m back!”

Jaemin’s timing couldn’t have been any more perfect.

“Did you miss me?” Jaemin cooed at the two boys, making an effort to pinch Jisung’s cheeks.

“Nana, stop!” He whined.

Jaemin frowned.

“This is why they said there’s no use in raising kids.”

His attention turned to me.

“Let’s get you taken care of, shall we?”

Jaemin asked me to sit on the counter in the kitchen so that we could “talk” without having to worry about the kids and asked Mark to watch them in the dining room. Apparently Jeno and Jaemin were also included in the list of staff who could watch over me.

“So how are things going for you?” He asked.

Jaemin’s face seemed to hold genuine concern so I had no reason to give him a snarky answer, but I wasn’t certain whether I could be honest with the two of them or not. They might not have been members of NCT, but they still worked for them.

“Everything is just so hard,” I broke down.

“Oh, honey,” Jaemin cooed sympathetically.

Jaemin took me into his arms as I started to quietly weep.

Jeno who had been busy cutting vegetables pushed them aside and joined us, patting my back as Jaemin continued to hug me.

After a few moments passed, I somehow managed to cease my crying.

Once Jaemin pulled away, Jeno gave me a cloth to wipe my tears. I winced when the fabric came in contact with my bruised eyes causing Jaemin and Jeno to give each other a concerned look.

“Let’s put some of this on,” Jaemin suggested.

“I just feel so angry at how little control I have here. I feel so weak and for some reason, I feel like I have no reason to complain either, like I somehow deserve this,” I ranted as Jaemin applied the vitamin k cream with a q-tip.

“You know you don’t though, right? I mean yeah, this whole this is fucked but you just have to get through it. Do whatever you need to do to survive, even if it means taking advantage of their accommodations.”

“What do you mean?”

“They told you that you could make requests, didn’t they? If I were you, I would take them for all they’re worth. I’d ask for expensive jewelry, clothes. You know, the works,” Jaemin continued.

“I just feel like if I ask for anything then I’ll be proving that pink-haired jackass right.”

“Hm?” Jaemin quirked.

I sighed.

“Jaehyun made me an offer and when I didn’t accept it, he told me that he didn’t expect a dancer like me to refuse that much money. Then he told me we could renegotiate later. He thought I was some floozy trying to get her next payday. I don’t even want the money. I refused because what he did can’t be fixed with money.”

“Wow,” The two men uttered in unison.

“What?”

“Y/ N, you’re kind of a badass,” Jeno complimented.

“What? No, that’s the thing. I couldn’t even stand up for myself and tell him that. This whole time, I’ve felt so powerless and weak and I just wish that I could fight back just one time and have an impact.”

We all went silent as Jaemin finished applying the cream to my bruises.

“How do you like the clothes the maids picked out? This dress is nice, right?”

“Honestly? I hate them. Everything is too fancy. I don’t feel like it’s exactly normal to wear Swarovski crystals when living in your kidnapper’s estate, not that there’s exactly a dress code for that.”

“Okay, no Swarovski crystals. What else?”

“Huh? Oh no, I didn’t mean. I’m fine, really.”

“Y/N.”

Jaemin grabbed my face as gently as he could to avoid causing any further harm to my already bruised face.

“It’s the least I can do given your situation, especially when I can’t do much else for you.”

His face was suddenly filled with noticeable anguish. He was trying so hard to relieve my sorrow, it made me want to relieve some of his.

“Okay then, I guess I do have a request or two.”

“Thatta girl!” He beamed, not a trace of sadness left in his features.

“What can I do for you?”

“Would it be possible to get my own clothes from my apartment?”

“I’m sure I could find some clothes to better suit your tastes.”

“No, they have to be mine. Is that okay?”

Jaemin spent a few seconds to ponder the request.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t ask, right Jeno?”

Jeno nodded.

“What else?”

“Could I start eating meals with you guys? I don’t want to spend all day trapped in that room and I could really use the companionship.”

Jeno and Jaemin smiled at each other and then back at me.

“Of course. Mealtimes are about the only time I ever get a break in this house. That’s when Jisung and Chenle get handed over to Momo, the other nanny. The only reason we were all in here earlier is because Chenle hasn’t been eating lately. The poor child. He’s only been like this once before when his sister died. I’m sure having everything come back up has been hard on both him and Jisung.”

I didn’t know whether I should have pried or if it was better to just change the subject, but Jaemin and Jeno seemed to be trustworthy so I decided to pry.

“Are they really his brothers?”

“Adopted brothers. The previous head of the household adopted all of his children,” Jaemin explained.

“Including-” I started.

“Yes, including him.”

“He couldn’t have children otherwise, so adoption was his only option,” Jeno added.

“Jaehyun and IU were blood related though. Sooman, the former head of NCT, had been searching for quite some time to find a son to eventually take his place as leader. He and his wife went to countless orphanages but apparently he was looking for something in particular which is why they never brought anyone home with them. He would ask each of the young boys a question, but none of their answers satisfied him.”

“What was the question?” I asked, enamored by the almost folksy tale.

“No one knows for sure, but I did hear from one of the older staff, who used to work as Sooman’s personal servant, that he’d ask them why they thought he should adopt them. Simple right?”

I nodded.

“Well supposedly, when he and his wife visited the orphanage the current young master was living at, one of the workers told Sooman that the boy hadn’t spoken a word to anybody other than his sister since they arrived. Instead of skipping the young boy, Sooman asked to speak with him anyway. He probably wasn’t expecting much of a response, yet he went through the motions anyway, telling him that he was a wealthy man who was capable of changing his life and things like that. When he asked the boy why he should adopt him. The young master actually responded.”

“What did he say? How did he convince him to adopt him?”

“That’s the thing. He didn’t. He told him that he shouldn’t adopt him, but that he should adopt his sister instead. Then, after having not spoken for such a long time, he went on to explain how much of a good person his sister was and how she would make a wonderful daughter. Sooman decided to adopt them both, that very day.”

I was speechless. That kind and caring young boy who was willing to give up on everything he could have wanted to help his sister seemed worlds apart from the horrible violent man I had the displeasure of meeting. The only similarities between them was how far they were willing to go for their sister.

“I guess Sooman wanted a son who valued loyalty,” Jaemin finished.

“What about the other two?”

“Oh, Jisung and Chenle? Their biological fathers both worked for Sooman, but died when they were a lot younger, so he adopted them as a service to them.”

“Umm, Jaemin?”

We all turned to look at the sudden voice.

Mark was covered in bits and pieces of food and a string of laughter escaped my lungs.

“Oh my god. Boys!” Jaemin ran out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

“Well, that was eventful. Anyways, food’s ready,” Jeno chuckled.

Jaemin had to go take care of the boys but he promised that he would be there tomorrow for breakfast.

Mark, Jeno and I sat down at the kitchen table. At first it felt a little awkward having Mark there since he was a member of 127, but I was relieved to see that he didn’t think so.

He told us how excited he was for another one of 127’s members to return after having been undercover for the last few months. He didn’t give me any specific details about the mission itself, but he did say the member’s name a lot. Apparently since he was so deep undercover, he was rarely able to interact with any of the members without the risk of blowing his cover.

Yuta came in at one point after hearing our laugher from a nearby room.

“Y/N, you look as beautiful as ever.”

“I have two black eyes.”

“And I can honestly say that not every girl can pull it off as well as you do.”

We continued talking hours after I had already finished eating. It was weird but nice. I pondered Jaemin’s words about how I should do whatever it takes to survive. I guess it felt like isolating myself wasn’t really my best option and that maybe opening up a little bit would make this whole thing more tolerable.

I went to bed that night, annoyed by the small red camera lights that flashed every so often. The next morning, I decided to just wear the green dress again since it was the only thing I really felt comfortable in, but instead of leggings, I put jeans on underneath. It looked kind of strange, but I didn’t care.

Jaemin told me that he was going to ask Jaehyun about my clothes at some point today. Jeno, Jaemin, and I met for breakfast. Mark tagged along since he happened to be guarding my door again. He quickly discovered that we made a promise to start eating meals together, so he also came to lunch despite not being on guard duty.

“Everyone else just eats in their rooms. We never have mealtimes together. I wish we would though,” He explained.

Not just him, but Yuta started to eat with us too. When it was time for us to meet for lunch, Yuta happened to be the one guarding my door, so he when he escorted me down to the kitchen only to see that Jaemin, Jeno and Mark were waiting for me, he demanded he stay to keep an eye on me despite there being three other men there to watch me.

It was strange at first, but it was nice to freely speak with each other without worry. Yuta continued to hit on me only to get scolded by Jaemin. Mark would laugh and Yuta would punch him in the arm, all while Jeno quietly smiled as though it were the most normal thing in the world for two mafia members, two staff members hired by said mafia members, and a former hostage kidnapped, also by said mafia members, to sit around a kitchen table laughing and having a ball.

I noticed how whenever he smiled, his eyes would form crescent moon slits, that made it hard to believe that he could see anything beyond them.

Nothing about the situation was normal, but I found myself feeling almost grateful for the scene unraveling in front of me. If this was going to be my new normal for the time being, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

<><><><><><><>

“The Itaewon lead was a bust. They found no trace of Wayv at any of their usual hangouts. Should I instruct S. Coups to have his men start canvasing the surrounding areas?” Taeyong updated his boss as they wandered the estate.

“No need. Have them return to Neozone to await further instructions. Wayv’s aware we’re looking for them, so they know to cover their tracks.”

Jaehyun was visibly frustrated at the lack of breakthroughs in the search for Wayv. His face was noticeably thinner than it was just a few days ago.

“We’ll just have to wait until they come for the girl.”

“Jae?” Taeyong quirked.

“Yes? What is it?”

“What’s that noise?”

The two men halted their conversation to focus on the sounds of laughter coming from the kitchen.

“Should we go see what they’re doing? Taking your mind off everything for a bit might make you feel better,” Taeyong suggested.

“It’s probably just Jaemin and Jeno flirting with each other. I can’t for the life of me understand how they still insist on keeping their relationship a secret from me. I’ve never once said anything to give them the impression that I’d hold any disdain for their choices as long as they continued to fulfill their duties and besides, only an idiot would think those two were straight.”

Jaehyun noticed the disappointed look on his friend/colleague’s usually impassive face.

Jaehyun relaxed slightly, becoming conscious of how much stress the two have them had been under, discussing further plans of action while holed up in his office since the break of dawn.

“Perhaps I should go in to check with in Jeno, see if there are any issues with... well, anything there might be issues with,” He suggested, abandoning his strict facade.

Taeyong’s face lit up. His excitement was most evident in his already anime-like eyes which now looked to have doubled in size.

<><><><><>

My eyes continued to linger on the sandy brown-haired man who sat almost directly across from me. I knew that it was crazy to crush on someone who worked for the leader of NCT even if he wasn’t a member of the gang itself, but it had been a crazy past few days and who could blame me for being drawn to such a gentle yet strong and protective looking hottie?

“Y/N?” He asked.

Watching the pair of lips, I had been hungerly gawking at, suddenly mouth the syllables of my name immediately allowed me to snap out of whatever entranced state I had been in for the last several moments and enter into one filled with embarrassment. My eyes quickly retreated down to look at my half empty plate, hoping he hadn’t noticed my staring.

“Yes?”

“You have a piece of rice stuck to your face,” Jeno said matter-of-factly.

My cheeks started to burn from the awkwardness. I moved my hand to brush the food from my face only for Yuta to beat me to it.

I jolted away, withdrawing from the man’s touch. Ready to berate him for the abrupt intrusion, I turned in time to see Yuta bring the speck of rice to his lips with a mischievous grin. I scoffed, unamused by his playful antics, as he merely continued to smirk. I glared at him briefly while taking notice of his purple locks.

His hair was always a dark purple similar to that of a plum, but under the bright kitchen lights it took on an especially violaceous hue. The intensity of the color and how it was almost hypnotic in a way led me to wonder if the devil might more accurately be depicted wearing violet than he would in his usual scarlet tones.

Yuta’s sly smile grew into a Chesire grin as he saw my anger morph into mesmerism. My gaze retreated from his and my cheeks were noticeably redder than before.

“Dude, that was gross,” Mark commented, bringing my attention back to the three other men at the table.

Yuta started laughing and I glanced at Jaemin and Jeno who glanced at each other and then back at me like two schoolgirls ready to hear all the hot gossip after seeing the school’s bad boy flirting with their friend.

Great, now they think something’s going on with Mr. Hits-on-anything-with-a-pulse over here.

I did everything to stop from groaning, but it must not have been enough to hide my annoyance as for the first time, everyone at the table was laughing except for Mark who had a perplexed look on his face.

“Oh, how nice!”

We all turned in our chairs to find the source of the sudden voice.

By now, I was easily able to recognize that the voice as belonged to Taeyong so when tufts of scarlet hair entered my vision, I thought nothing of it, but then a second man with oddly colored hair followed soon after. My lungs were empty of air, yet I couldn’t find the courage to breathe.

He was dressed in the most casual outfit I had seen him in. A black shirt tucked into black jeans held up by a black belt with a silver colored buckle. A clashing gold colored watch with red and green detailing drew attention to his right wrist and consequentially, the veins that traveled up his forearms. His hair lacked any product as far as I could tell, and his bangs swept past his browbone and into his eyes. I noticed that the man’s rose gold locks were slightly translucent, probably from the bleaching process, and must not have done much to impair his ability to see past them.

Unable to turn away, I silently prayed that he would overlook my presence, but that hope revealed itself to be a pipedream as our eyes immediately made contact with each other.

“What’s going on here?” Jaehyun demanded.

“They’re all eating together! How fun!” Taeyong observed, seemingly unaware of his boss’s hostile tone.

Taeyong wandered over to the table and took a seat in the last empty seat, leaving his boss to remain standing by the door.

“You know, I always thought that we should start eating meals together, but it didn’t seem like the other members were up for it.”

Jaehyun stomped towards us, irritation written across his face. My instincts were telling me to flee, to run out of there and never look back, but instead my body braced itself, knowing that it didn’t have to courage to move even the slightest bit.

“Jeno? Don’t you two have work to do?” He questioned the sandy-haired man.

Jeno and Jaemin looked at each other then back at their boss.

“Everything is running ahead of schedule, sir. I already have the ingredients prepared for tonight’s dinner.”

Jaehyun paused, processing the response before turning to Jaemin.

“And what about you? Where are Chenle and Jisung?”

“Umm... sir? This is my scheduled lunch break. The boys are with Momo,” He responded with perturbed intonation.

Jaehyun brought his right hand to his face and pinched the upper bridge of his nose in frustration, sending a quick glance at Yuta and Mark.

“Don’t look at us, you only told us to be on standby in case we needed to have a meeting,” Yuta reminded in a disinterested tone.

Before Jaehyun could chastise Yuta for such a cheeky response, Taeyong began to speak.

“Awesome. Since nobody is going to be busy for the time being, should we pull up another chair?” He asked staring up at Jaehyun’s intimidating figure.

I started begging the universe to save me from having to sit at the same table as the man who was possibly the only person I was more afraid of than Lucas.

“Actually, there was something I was hoping I could talk with you about, boss,” Jaemin announced, getting up from his chair.

“Shall we?” He asked.

Jaehyun looked down at the five of us who remained seated at the table before returning his gaze to Jaemin. Without saying anything, he merely made his way out the kitchen door, Jaemin waving goodbye as he followed.

I took a deep breath and let it out, not intending for it to be as loud as it was. Everyone at the table looked at me with concern.

“Y/N?” Taeyong quirked.

“I’d like to go back to my room please,” I mumbled, not wanting to hear whatever Taeyong had to say.

Yuta volunteered to escort me back to my room. Not a word was exchanged between us on the way.

Once I was alone, I settled into my bed and began to softly sob into one of the pillows.

I was so scared of him that I couldn’t even move. I’m so sick and tired of being so weak and defenseless.

I continued to cry until the tears began to sting my bruised eyes.

I can’t be afraid of him anymore. I need to get stronger. No matter what it takes, I need to survive.

<><><>

“Take a seat,” Jaehyun offered, already seated back at his desk.

“Oh, this won’t take long,” Jaemin replied, choosing to remain standing.

Jaehyun quirked an eyebrow at the staff member before leaning back in his chair.

“Very well. What is it you needed to discuss with me?”

Jaemin got straight to the point, not wasting any time to ease his boss into the issue at hand.

“Y/N doesn’t feel comfortable wearing any of the clothes that were picked out for her.”

The curiosity that had occupied Jaehyun’s features dissipated, replaced with the slightest hint of aggravation.

“And so, the requests start to flood in,” Jaehyun muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, sir. What was that?” Jaemin asked, unsure if he was meant to hear his boss’s words.

“So, let me guess, the clothes aren’t good enough for her despite the fact that each article is probably worth more than what she’d make in a year?” Jaehyun sneered, not making any attempt to hide the disgust in his voice.

Jaemin furrowed his brows at the unexpected response.

“No, sir. That’s the opposite of what I’m saying.”

Now it was Jaehyun’s turn to furrow his brows.

“Hm?”

“Y/N doesn’t feel comfortable wearing clothes of such a high quality, especially when they were paid for by her...” Jaemin paused, hoping that his boss would understand and that he wouldn’t have to finish the less than favorable account of why exactly Y/N didn’t want to wear the clothes Jaehyun had instructed to be prepared for her.

Jaehyun glared at Jaemin, daring him to finish his sentence, not showing any hint of mercy towards the staff member.

“-captor,” The man finished, doing his best to maintain a professional demeanor while still presenting a strong front.

Jaehyun’s anger unexpectedly dispersed. He sat up in his chair, tapping the desk as he deliberated Jaemin’s words.

“I’ll send a maid out on another run for her,” He decided.

“Is that all?”

“Well, boss, that isn’t-” Jaemin began.

“Actually, why don’t you do it since you probably know more about her... tastes. I’ll have Jeno instruct Momo of your absence and let her know that she’ll have the boys for the time being.”

Jaehyun’s voice was laced with an emotion Jaemin couldn’t quite make out. Was it bitterness or perhaps just irritation?

“She doesn’t want new clothes, sir.”

Jaehyun’s dusted pink bangs, fell to the side of his forehead as his head tilted the slightest bit.

“Then why are you here taking up my time, Jaemin?”

“She wants the clothes to be removed from her closet and for someone to retrieve her own clothes from her apartment complex.”

“What?”

“Can that be done?” Jaemin pressed on.

“Hold on a minute. Why does she want her own clothes? We could have any article of clothing she wants prepared for her by the end of the day. Hell, we could create an exact replica of her closet if she wanted. Just have her tell us-”

“Excuse me for speaking so boldly and without tact, sir, but it seems as though Y/N doesn’t want any handouts you have to offer her,” Jaemin interjected.

A strange tension filled the air as Jaemin explained his understanding of the situation. Jaehyun seemed as though he were debating amongst himself as he processed this new and unanticipated information. His eyes stared past Jaemin instead of at him and all the younger man could do was wait for his boss’s reply.

Jaehyun took his office phone off its receiver and lifted it to his ear before pressing the 1 on the keypad. A moment passed before Jaehyun spoke up.

“B.I.? Yes, have S.Coups and his men stop by Y/N’s apartment in Hongdae before they return to NEOzone. I want all her things brought back with them. Someone will come by this evening to pick them up.”

After giving his instructions, Jaehyun hung up the phone and looked up at Jaemin.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off and head to NEOzone headquarters later tonight to grab her things?” He proposed, his face and voice having returned to their usual unreadable states.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

<><><>

After Jaemin exited through his office door, Jaehyun was left to contemplate Jaemin’s words.

Had he really misjudged Y/N this much? All this time, he assumed that if she wasn’t working with Wayv, that she’d probably cause problems for them by threatening to expose them unless she got whatever amount of money she needed to keep her mouth shut. Yet here she was, not only choosing to forgo making any requests for newer and better things but actively refusing them as well.

It was enough to baffle Jaehyun to the point of complete frustration.

What was it that she wanted? Was it possible she didn’t want anything except to go home? To be safe from Wayv’s grasp?

Jaehyun felt a strong urge to leave his office, the walls of which seemed to be closing in on him. He wondered if perhaps a walk would clear his head and allow him to organize his thoughts, but as he wandered through the halls, the weight of his actions finally hit him.

What have I done?

Images of Y/N’s first night at the estate crept into the front of his mind, but before he could really weigh the impact of his actions, he remembered seeing his sister, naked and shoved into a box that was left on their doorstep.

He shook the image from his mind and buried it along with any feelings of guilt that threatened to arise.

He couldn’t let his emotions get the best of him. After all, there was still a chance that Y/N was working with Wayv.

“Hey, boss.”

Too distracted by his thoughts, Jaehyun had unknowingly walked past the security room where Taeil had set up. Having been woken up from his thoughts, Jaehyun entered the room through the open doorway. Monitors showing live footage of Y/N’s room seemed to make up most of the room’s light with the exception of Taeil’s empty laptop screen. Taeil was holding a mug filled with either coffee or tea, Jaehyun didn’t bother to ask which.

“What’s she doing?” He inquired, taken aback by the images displayed on the monitors.

“Working out, I assume,” Taeil answered not sounding so sure himself.

“Why is she so... bad at it?”

They both watched in silence, suffering from secondhand embarrassment as footage of my first attempt at doing a push up since middle school gym played across multiple screens.

“Why is she- What is she-” Jaehyun couldn’t even figure out what to ask, giving up halfway through each unfinished inquiry.

“I don’t know but this has been going on for the last half hour. I was getting some work done since I didn’t really wanna watch her cry, but when she started doing jumping jacks all of a sudden, I couldn’t really look away,” Taeil reported, looking visibly uncomfortable.

Jaehyun tore his eyes from the screen and returned his gaze to Taeil.

“Crying?”

Taeil returned to his laptop, quickly reopening a dark colored window with past recordings of Y/N’s room. After muting the current footage, Taeil brought up footage timestamped 1:34, roughly ten minutes after Jaehyun left the kitchen with Jaemin.

Several cameras were installed to ensure there were no blind spots in the room, but the camera that produced this specific footage only provided coverage of the bed and some of the floor surrounding it. For the first few seconds, the room seemed to be empty of any life, until the sound of a door opening was projected from a nearby speaker and Y/N entered the screen’s image. She climbed onto the mattress, wrinkling the neatly made bedspread and sat there silently staring off God knows where. Jaehyun and Taeil watched as Y/N grabbed a pillow and held it tightly against her. She began to cry, occasionally reaching up to wipe away the tears that streamed down her bruised cheeks.

Taeil paused the video roughly sixty seconds after the sobbing had started and turned to his boss.

“This went on for like ten minutes, but then look at this,” He said, relaying the contents of the video.

Taeil pressed the fast forward key, stopping the video after a few seconds and then pressed the spacebar to resume.

The screen continued to show footage of Y/N crying, before she abruptly stopped altogether. She rubbed her blackened eyes visibly wincing from the contact. After several moments of just staring at nothing, she then preceded to get up from the bed and disappeared out of view. Taeil took a few seconds switching to another camera, this one showing a complete view of Y/N as she began to start doing jumping jack, like Taeil described earlier.

Taeil paused the video.

“The next twenty minutes are just of her doing various exercises. She’s alright with cardio, but anytime she attempts any strength training, it ends up looking like, well... that,” He gestured towards the monitors that showed that the current Y/N was still struggling to lift herself back into the air after falling back down.

“She is persistent, I’ll give her that,” Jaehyun observed.

“Makes you wonder how we ever thought she was a part of Wayv,” Taeil laughed.

Jaehyun’s gaze shot back to Taeil.

He was right.

If Y/N was working with Wayv, she would have at least been trained in basic hand to hand combat, right? Yet here he was, watching her get visibly more and more frustrated with herself as she failed to do what even people who aren’t particularly athletic should be able to do.

The possibility that she was faking it crossed his mind only for it to disappear without a trace when he watched Y/N fall onto her already bruised face, yelping in pain.

“I think she’s trying to get stronger,” Taeil speculated.

Stronger?

Jaehyun started to contemplate whatever possible motives Y/N could have for wanting to become stronger, when he felt a heaviness in his chest. A heaviness he hoped to ignore for just a little longer but couldn’t.

“Hmm,” He hummed.

<><><>

I woke up to the sound of knocking. A groan escaped my mouth as I turned to look at the clock. My eyes had still not adjusted to being open this early in the morning, so I struggled to make out the numbers that shined in blue light.

5:00.

Five a.m.? Really?

It was still dark in my room as the sun had yet to rise. I rolled over in my bed and pulled the covers over my head, hoping the person knocking would get the hint and fuck off.

They didn’t.

Eventually, the door opened, and I could hear footsteps approaching. Instead of feeling aggravated since my slumber was being cut short, I felt an unignorable sense of fear.

Wayv.

I moved the covers just enough to look at the vanity table. There wasn’t much on it, but I could see the outline of a lamp.

If I move fast enough, I could grab it and use it as a weap-

“Goodmorning Y/N!”

I screamed as the duvet was ripped from my body.

I stared up at the shadowy figure that stood at the foot of the bed.

“Oh, come on, I don’t look that bad in the mornings, do I?”

The lights turned on and suddenly I could see.

Jaemin continued to stare down at me in amusement as I alternated between looking at him, and Jeno who was standing by the light switch near the door.

“Guess who brought gifts!” Jaemin prompted, pulling a bag of clothes off the ground and spilling them onto the bed.

“What?”

“I brought you your clothes!” Jaemin replied as though it were the most normal thing in the world to wake someone up at five a.m. just to give them their clothes.

I looked down at the clothes on the bed and noticed a bag filled with clothes I didn’t recognize.

I opened it and took out a bright orange hoodie, the tag still attached.

“I told you I didn’t want any new clothes. Jaehyun will think-”

“Jaehyun doesn’t have to know. He gave me the afternoon off to pick up your stuff, but I noticed that you really didn’t have many clothes to begin with, so I thought I’d supplement your closet a bit. Don’t worry. These are gifts from me and Jeno, paid for with our money, not Jaehyun’s.”

“But-”

“No buts. It’s the least we could do and besides, it’s just a few hoodies. No big deal. Jeno and I wear this brand of hoodie all the time. They’re cheap, but comfier than anything you’ll find in any of the members’ closets.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jaemin said with a smile.

“But that wasn’t why I was saying but,” I began.

“Hm?” Jaemin hummed curiously.

“I really appreciate you bringing my clothes here, and the hoodies are lovely, but why did you have to wake me up at five a.m. to give them to me?”

Jaemin chuckled and looked to Jeno.

“I’ll let him explain that and while you two are gone, I’ll get started on getting rid of the clothes in the closet and hanging these up instead.”

“While we’re gone?”

I looked to Jeno for some help understanding what the other man was trying to say. Instead, Jeno walked over to us and smiled.

“Are you ready for your first day of training?

<><><><><>

After leaving me to get dressed in my workout clothes, a simple t shirt and yoga pants, plus a royal blue hoodie that I found in the bag along with the others, Jeno guided me out into the hall way, taking the time to answer my questions along the way.

“What do you mean you’re gonna train me?”

“I’m in charge of training all the insider staff so that they can double as bodyguards if need be. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

“I didn’t mean why you were going to train me, I meant why are you going to train me?”

Jeno hesitated before answering.

“Don’t you want to get stronger so you can feel safer?” He asked.

“I mean yeah, but will it be okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I still have a cracked rib for starters and what if Jaehyun finds out?”

“I’ve trained people with worse injuries,” Jeno reassured.

“And you don’t need to worry about Jaehyun. He was the one who suggested it in the first place.”

“What? Why?”

I stopped in my tracks. Jeno stopped shortly after turning around to meet my gaze.

“Y/N, I know you’re probably more than a bit confused right now, but maybe don’t look a gift horse in the mouth? I mean, nothing good can come out of questioning Jaehyun’s motives. For now, just be happy that you’ll have something to focus on for the next few days.

Jeno resumed his steps and so did I. For some reason, Jeno’s words didn’t lend me any comfort.

<><><><>

“Harder! Hit it harder!” Jeno yelled from behind the punching bag.

It had been three days since Jeno started training me and somehow each day seemed to get harder and harder. My muscles were sore, and my bones felt like they would turn to dust. This was the routine, wake up at 5:00, warm up for thirty minutes, cardio for twenty, weight training also for twenty, and then the next two hours would be dedicated to basic self-defense and hand-to-hand combat. Despite my body feeling like it was one day away from falling apart completely, it looked better than it had in days. My bruises were almost completely healed, and my face had basically returned to normal. Breathing was still hard due to my slowly healing rib, but Jeno refused to let it hold me back as he constantly ordered me to hit harder, run faster, and lift heavier.

The kind and gentle Jeno I knew was long gone by the time training began, replaced by a mountain of pent up rage and aggression. It was no wonder he was able to stay so unbothered despite working such a stressful job. As soon as he entered the gym, it was like he was releasing every ounce of anger he had built up over the course of his life, and damn there was a ton of it. If that wasn’t enough to get over my crush on him, learning that he and Jaemin were dating threw the whole thing away.

I once asked Jaemin how he could stand to work out with Jeno when he was like this. His answer was surprising to say the least.

“I don’t know. I kind of like it. He just looks so sexy when he’s mad. Makes me think of all the dirty things I want him to do to me after we hit the showers.”

The rest of my days continued like normal. At mealtime, I would head to the kitchen and eat with everyone at the dining room table. We couldn’t sit at the kitchen table anymore since Taeyong, Taeil, and even Doyoung started to join us, but only because Yuta forced him to come along. The only members who didn’t join us were Johnny, Winwin and Jaehyun. I found myself wanting to ask what was going on with Winwin and Johnny since I hadn’t crossed paths with them since Jaehyun ordered them to stay glued to each other, but I couldn’t muster up the courage. I found myself missing Winwin. Even though he wasn’t the friendliest guy, there was something about him that felt comforting. For some reason I was beginning to find most of the members comforting to some extent even Doyoung’s threats seemed humorous when paired with Yuta’s sarcastic responses. I knew I should feel on guard with them, but after everything that had happened, it was nice to feel like I had friends.

Friends? Oh god. I better not be developing some weird form of Stockholme Syndrome.

“Hey! Stay focused!” Jeno commanded as he pushed the punching bag into me, knocking me down on the floor.

<><><><><>

Jaehyun chuckled softly as Y/N fell to the floor mat. He continued to watch through the two-way mirror as Jeno offered his hand to Y/N.

On the first day of their training, Jaehyun felt a strange urge to go see how things were going so he decided to take a break from his work to check in on their progress. At first, he only stayed for a few minutes, but today, he found himself losing track of time.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” An unexpected voice entered the room.

Jaehyun’s subtle grin abandoned his face, replaced with an irritated scowl.

“I thought I told you I was too busy for any meetings today,” He mouthed, refusing to turn towards the new presence.

“Oh, I can see that, alright,” The voice taunted.

“How did you find me here?” Jaehyun coldly huffed.

“I just rang the bell and that younger member of yours let me in. Mark, was it? After that, I made my way to your office only to find that you weren’t there. Luckily, I ran into one of your staff members, one with a particularly strange hair style I might add, and he suggested I look for you here.”

After a moment of silence passed and it was clear that Jaehyun wasn’t going to speak, the voice continued.

“I’m curious as to why you’re allowing Jeno to train her in the first place,” The voice sighed as if it were suggesting something.

Jaehyun could hear the smirk in the other man’s voice and it pissed him off to no end.

“Having her know basic defense might serve useful if Wayv decided to break their way in here or if we decided to use her for bait or something,” He explained dismissively.

“Are you sure about that? Or are you perhaps feeling guil-”

Jaehyun finally looked at his unwanted guest.

“What do you want, Suho?”

Suho’s playful smirk morphed into a frown that almost perfectly matched that of the younger man.

“We have things we need to discuss.”

<><><><><><><>

After training ended, I returned to my room to shower. Jeno decided to finish a little earlier today since he said that breaks were key to gaining progress. I don’t know how finishing thirty minutes early counts as a break in his mind especially with how long our sessions were to begin with, but I was thankful for the extra time I had to relax before heading down to lunch.

Being able to wear my own clothes was something I was grateful for. It gave me a small amount of power knowing that I didn’t owe anybody anything. It also did a lot to make me feel more comfortable in such an uncomfortable setting. I chose to wear a simple pair of black skinny jeans, a white V-neck T-shirt that hugged at my curves, and my red converse.

I had lunch with everyone being their usual happy selves before returning to my room to rest. Mark was my escort to and from lunch, so once we got back, he and I played several rounds of cards before Yuta barged in.

“Ever heard of knocking?” I playfully teased.

Yuta winked at me.

“You know what they say, you can’t hide anything from your lover.”

Mark and I looked at each other before proceeding to make all sorts of fake vomiting noises.

Yuta was unamused.

“Anyway, Mark, come on let’s go. Impromptu meeting in the billiards room,” He said suddenly in a rush.

“What about Y/N? Who’s gonna guard her?”

“Nobody.”

Yuta turned to me.

“Congrats! The boss says you’re officially too old for a babysitter, now let’s go Mark,” Yuta announced before disappearing into the hallway.

Mark promised he’d be back soon to finish the game, but hours past and there was still no sign of them.

When it was time for dinner, I decided to take advantage of my newfound freedom by making my way to the dining room unescorted. When I arrived, only Jeno and Jaemin were seated at the table. Dinner was mostly quiet. Jaemin explained that the meeting was probably still going on and that’s why we were the only three here. It made sense until Taeyong entered the dining room with a sullen look on his face.

“Y/N? Are you finished eating?”

I nodded, unsure of what else I could say or ask.

“Jaehyun wants to see you in his office.”

Scared and not knowing what to expect, I asked Taeyong what was going on, but he refused to answer. I got up and followed him. Halfway to his office, we ran into Yuta. He smiled when he saw me and opened his mouth to speak. I was expecting him to say some cheesy pick up line, but what I didn’t expect was for him to just pause before looking down at the floor, moving to the side to let us by. I looked back at him as we walked past, utterly shocked that he had actually decided not to tease me for once. It made me uneasy.

When we got to Jaehyun’s office, Taeyong knocked on the door. Instead of a voice on the other side telling us to enter, the door opened and through it walked out two members of 127 whom I had not seen in a very long time.

Johnny and Winwin.

I smiled at them silently. Winwin said nothing and only stared at me. It wasn’t comforting in any sense, but it was better than the pat me on the shoulder Johnny gave me before whispering the words, “I’m sorry.” I watched the two of them disappear down the hallway before a voice I wish I could have forgotten called for us to enter.

Taeyong led me to Jaehyun’s desk and pulled out the chair for me to sit in. Jaehyun kept his eyes glued to me, only looking away to dismiss Taeyong.

Once we were alone, Jaehyun silently stared at me as though he were carefully deciding what to say next.

“Y/N.”

I did my best to meet his gaze, careful not to let him notice my uneven breaths which grew shakier the longer he delayed the next few words that would fall past his lips.

“It has been decided that you and I will get married this month.”

What?

267 notes · View notes

untaemedqueen · 4 years

Text

The Lions Den

Mafia!Jimin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Mafia!AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Chapter 1.

Warnings: Smut, Blood, Guns, Knives, Excessive Cursing, Excessive Alcohol Intake, Smoking (Cigarettes and Cigars), Mental Health Issues

Warnings for this chapter: Fellatio, Face Fucking, Cock Worship, Cum Swallowing, Dom!Jimin, Sub!Reader, Daddy Kink

TagList- @ayyyocee, @mysugabear03, @wisebtsgot7prune, @imaforeigner, @yeonkiminnie, @stories1907, @ppersonna, @brilee64, @gooplibrary, @vivpurple7, @xjoonchildx, @brightwingr5, @yaniposts22, @rjsmochii, @taeslittletiger, @pjmcth, @bts-chub

Sequel to The Bird Cage

"Easy, Kitten." Jimin's voice is ignored by you as you tilt your head to the man sitting in your shared office. Your fingernails dig into the man's cheek and you watch him flinch before smirking.

"Where's my money?" Your husband leans back in his chair, whisky glass in hand before tilting his head back. "You should answer her before she gets angry."

Yu Kirsoon is a strong, built man that you've turned feeble and weak within seconds. "I-I-" You move his head around like a rag doll before raising an eyebrow.

"You-You what?" You mock through gritted teeth and his shoulders hunch over as you take your hand off of his face before giving it a small, disparaging slap. The office is silent apart from Jeongguk in the corner flipping a knife between his fingers as both him and your husband watch on at the sight in front of them.

“I don’t know where the money is. I did a drop off without checking for pick up.” His voice is a mere whisper in the large room. You clap your hands in front of his face, he flinches and you lean back against the desk. “You owe me four million dollars. How are you going to repay that when you have not a single brain cell in your meat head.”

Jimin snorts from behind you and you fold your arms. You watch as he bows his head, the branding mark on his neck gnarled and twisted with scars from past fights. “Why doesn’t he go work for the Lees for the time being? So you don’t have to see his face.” Jimin suggests quietly, he has a soft spot for all of his Lions and you know this very well.

“Oh, no. That won’t do at all.” You mumble before picking up your glass of champagne and taking a sip. “He’ll go work at The Bird Cage. To pay off his debt.”

You hear Jeongguk clear his throat quietly, “You’ll be a good waiter. Won’t you Kirsoon?” He nods weakly as you stand back up to full height, hands brushing off the wrinkles you’ve made in your Chanel dress. “Yes, madam.”

“That’s a good boy.”

Entering your bedroom, your eyes land on Lion as he sleeps on your pillow. The corners of your lips turn upwards before rolling your head on your shoulders. There was very little time for peace and quiet in this house and you take what you can get, if you’re being honest. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you lean back on your hands. Eyes lazily traipsing over both paintings on the far end of the room before the door opens. “Kitten.”

You glance over at your husband before sitting up straighter. He fixes his tie before carding his fingers through his black hair. He narrows his eyes at you, whisky glass in hand before pointing his index finger at you over the lip. “You can’t just send Lions to do cheap work at The Bird Cage.”

You roll your eyes before turning your body towards him. “Did he or did he not lose our money FOR the casino?” He sips his whisky, neck veins jutting at the harsh burn before nodding his head.

“Then he will work AT the casino, until I say so.” He scoffs gently before unbuttoning his black suit jacket. “You’re a fucking brat.”

You shrug as he strips off the layer of clothing, laying it over the velvet arm chair before sauntering towards you. “Brats can have fun too.” He snorts, uncuffing his sleeves before straddling you. His hand meets your chest before you’re being shoved back into the bed. “Brats get punished, Kitten.”

A small smile tugs at your lips before you’re tilting your head. He hums gently before putting both hands on either side of your face and turning you to look up at him. “Kitten, you do everything you can to get under my skin don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy.” He chuckles to himself before leaning down and kissing you. His plush pink lips warm against your skin as he kisses you with unbridled passion. His tongue licks over the seam of your lips and your hands grasp at his toned arms. He moans gently as your mouth opens for him, whisky laden tongue running over yours before he hears a loud shriek that could only be from his daughter and the noise is barreling right towards the master bedroom. He clicks his teeth before hopping off of you. His eyes stay on the door before the shadows of little feet appear underneath it. He chuckles to himself gently, hand rubbing over your bare thigh as the door creaks open.

Hawon gasps loudly before smiling at the both of you and you can’t help but giggle as your husband gasps back playfully. “Who’s that? Is that the prettiest princess of them all?!” He calls out cutely to her making her giggle as she sways her body.

He stands up with a groan before crouching and holding his arms out to her, she runs towards him at full speed and he grunts as he catches her as she jumps up. Her arms wrap around his neck before burying her face into his shirt. “You woke up from your nap? Hmm?”

She nods, face rubbing over his crisp white shirt before he’s rubbing his hand over her back. “Mommy?” You hum to your daughter as you sit up, fingers combing through your hair.

“Can I have a little sister now?” Your heart pangs and you clear your throat before standing up. “Why don’t we go find Mirae, hmm?” Jimin whispers quickly to her before kissing your forehead.

You watch as he walks away, lips turning down into a frown before he exits the bedroom. You stare ahead at the paintings on the wall, head tilting as your fingers snag at a knot within your hair. It’s not like you both weren’t trying for another one, you were. Constantly trying actually. But, it just wasn’t as easy as the first two. Hawon was unexpected, Minseok was unexpected and now that you were trying for a third it just wasn’t coming as easily as you’d like. Jimin accuses everything but the both of you for this. To him it was the Im’s fault. They’ve had you both so stressed out lately, after receiving the knowledge that they killed your parents. He says the stress is bad for your womb. Whatever the fuck that means. The casino is another cause for no baby. Stress from making sure the casino runs properly is too much for you to handle and that is why your womb is still empty.

You lay back on the bed as Lion walks over the mattress before laying down on your chest. But, you know the truth. It’s your fault. You’ve slowly found the time between all the stress to hate yourself for it. You see Jimin’s eyes light up after each sexual encounter, like he’s begging you and whatever God to give him another child. You see his body shiver with anticipation if your period is a day late. You see it all. And, you can’t help that you find it discouraging. Because you should give him everything he wants and this one thing is just not coming.

��Phones.” You throw your phone into the sound proof metal box before looking over at Jeongguk as he stares down at the table. His hair is greasy, heavy bags laden under his doe eyes and you can smell the alcohol seeping from his pores. You raise an eyebrow as he shuts his eyes as if he’s in pain. You put your hand gently on his arm. Before you know it, his hand shoots out grabbing your wrist before twisting it harshly. “Guk!” You whine in pain as he continues to twist it to the left.

Your body moves with his grasp as the joint of your shoulder sends a sharp pain through you. “Jeongguk!” Jimin yells loudly, you could feel the muscles in your arm tensing almost the point of ripping. Your husband cocks his gun before putting the mouth to Jeongguk’s forehead. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He seethes to the younger man as the rest of the guys cock their guns at him.

He lets you out of his grasp and you whine loudly falling back into your chair. “Never touch my wife for as long as you fucking live. What’re you dumb?!” You rub at your shoulder before narrowing your eyes at the youngest. Jeongguk stays silent before opening his eyes, “Sorry.” He mumbles before pulling a bottle of Hennessy out of his hoodie and unscrewing the cap.

Jimin wraps his arm around your waist, hand running over your side before ripping his feral eyes away from the torturer in the room. “You okay, baby?” You roll your shoulder before nodding slightly.

“I’ll be fine.” He scoffs before massaging at the muscles of your shoulder. “Get out.” He tells Jeongguk who turns his gaze to his boss without an inkling of care in his eyes.

“Get out? Of where? The meeting? Of life? Where would you like me to ‘get out’ to, boss?” His voice is heavy with sarcasm and you close your eyes as Jimin smacks the metal table before gritting his teeth. “Get out of this fucking room before I kill you.”

Jeongguk shrugs before standing up and shoving the other men’s chairs out of his way. “What the fuck is wrong with him today?” Hoseok mumbles before fixing his chair with a scoff.

“It’s Lee’s death anniversary.” Yoongi mumbles as he sparks his cigarette. You frown deeply as Jeongguk slams the door shut behind him and you feel your face blanch before looking at your husband. He runs his hands over his face before clearing his throat. “Fuck.”

It took you a while to find him, but you did. He sits at the edge of the garden, legs tucked underneath him as he runs his fingers through the blades of perfectly cut grass. “Hi.” You whisper before sitting down next to him.

He doesn’t speak, he just stares at the floor. You both sit for a while, his eyes below him and yours on the sun as it begins to set on the horizon. The sky is a pretty salmon color and you find yourself thinking that before Jimin and this life nothing was pretty to you. You don’t know if your presence is comforting or not but you’ve known Jeongguk for a long time now and anything you can do for him you would.

You could hear the kids screaming inside of the mansion and you tilt your head to look at him as he groans gently. “I’m sorry I hurt you, noona.” His voice is slurred from all of his alcohol intake but you can easily hear the regret. You show him your hand before rubbing his back in comforting circles.

“It hurts.” He mumbles before looking up at the setting sun. His hands rub together before pulling out the bottle of alcohol he had earlier at the meeting. “She’s painted on the back of my eyelids every second of the fucking day and just for once, just today, I wish I didn’t have to see her.”

You nod at his words, not saying anything for fear of speaking out of turn during his time of need. “She is always around, haunting me. In my dreams, in my mind, behind my eyelids. I don’t know what I would do without her but just for today… I wish this guilt wasn’t eating me alive.” You hum in agreement as he hangs his head.

“I’m sorry Guk.” He spins the cap off the bottle before chuckling to himself, “Jimin is going to fucking flay my ass for gripping you like that. Fuck my life.” His voice ends in a murmur before he’s swigging from the bottle.

“Kitten!” You hear your husband loud and clear before turning your head. He stands on the balcony of your bedroom, arms folded with narrowed eyes.

“Come upstairs.” His voice is clipped and Jeongguk grunts gently. He was in trouble and you feel bad for him.

You enter the bedroom quietly, your husband stands shirtless leaning against the balcony door frame. “He hurt you, why would you go and see him when he’s like that?” He chides you before turning around.

“Because he’s hurting and he needs someone.” Jimin scoffs gently before standing up tall. “You’re to stay away from him until he is sober. Do you hear me?” You hum unamused before he’s raising an eyebrow.

“Why don’t you ever fucking listen?!”

“He’s hurting Jimin! He needs someone!” You yell out to your husband as you point your finger towards the closed doors.

“That someone isn't you! You’re too precious to me! What would happen if you got hurt because he can’t control his emotions?! You’ve seen him! He’s like a ticking time bomb!” You fold your arms before scoffing. “You’ve been his friend since you were younger. Why don’t you go talk to him then?”

Jimin rubs his hands over his face before walking over to the liquor caddy and pouring himself a glass of whisky. “Because I can’t. You stay away from him until he’s sober. Or else.”

“Or else what?!” He slams down the glass of whisky before turning to you. “Kitten.”

Your feet pad over to him before you’re wrapping him into a hug. He’s projecting, you know your husband well enough for that. He blames himself for the death of Lee, something he has spoken about a few times throughout the years of marriage. He feels guilty.

Your lips traipse along his jaw, his hands grip at your hips before sighing gently. “Kitten, I’m really not in the mood right now.”

You ignore him, suckling sweet patches onto his collarbones before trailing lower. His gun is discarded onto the liquor caddy by you before your hands find his belt and you undo it silently. You kiss over his chest, taking time to shower the names of you and your two children with love before swiping your tongue over his nipple. He sighs gently before pressing himself flush against the wall. “Kitten. Please.”

You silence him with a playful nip on his nipple before unzipping his pants. “Y/N.” He calls to you quietly, “Let me take care of you.”

His head lolls back to the wall as his hands run through your hair. “I just have this guilt.” He mumbles to the air as you lick over the plains of his abs.

“I know.” You whisper gently before pushing down his pants. He grips at your hair as you suck at the skin above the waistband of his briefs. Your fingers find the waistband before tugging them down. He takes in a sharp breath between his teeth as his cock smacks up into his stomach. You hum pleased before getting to your knees.

You see the sight of him daily and it never gets old. He groans gently, tugging at your hair as you wrap your hand around his long length. The bulbous tip blushed pink with need begins to weep as you pump him slowly. “Oh fuck.” He curses before his eyes flutter shut.

You lick at the seam of his head, collecting his precum on your tongue before swirling the muscle around him smoothly. He gasps gently and you watch as his thigh muscles shake with unabashed pleasure. “Oh, Kitten. Shit.”

You take his length into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks to make a vacuum like suction around him. He curses gently as you begin a steady rhythm of fucking his cock into your mouth. He tugs at your hair harder as his ass pushes off of the wall. “Will you let me fuck your throat? Hmm, Kitten?”

You moan in response as he grips at your head with both of his hands. His jaw tightens before both of your eyes connect. “I love you so much, baby girl.” You whimper as he thrusts gently.

“I just, fuck, need all this stress to go away.” With every word his cock begins to ram harder into you. Your hands grip at his muscular thighs as his moans get louder. You swallow around him letting his cock go in deeper as your throat muscles clench and lax around him with every thrust. “Oh fuck, you’re such a good little girl letting me fuck your throat like this.”

The flat of your tongue runs over his shaft and a string of curses leaves your husband's mouth. "Oh Kitten."

You begin to gag as he fucks your mouth faster, eyes welling up with tears as you hear his groan grow louder. "Fuck, you like that? God, baby you look so hot when you cry for my cock."

Your manicured fingernails dig into the flesh of his thighs and you can see him shiver visibly. "Oh fuck! Fuck!"

His cock begins to throb and you will your throat and gag reflex to behave as he tucks his plush bottom lip between his teeth. His gaze is soft as he looks down at you, like you're holding him to the Earth with every thrust. Streams of precum trail down your throat and you moan at the taste that is solely your husband. “Oh, babe. I’m going to cum. Fuck!”

Your hand grabs at his tightening balls, rolling and squeezing them gently. His head smacks into the wall as he gives off a long, slow moan. “That’s it, baby. Fuck! Kitten.”

He chokes on a gasp before his cock stills, “Oh, fuck I love you.” With that sentence he orgasms, hands pushing down on your head as you sputter around him. Ropes of cum paint your throat. “Swallow and show me.”

You swallow before letting your tongue hang out of your mouth as you pull away. He looks drunk, black hair disheveled as his sideburns slick down to his face with sweat. He gives you a lazy smirk before bending down and kissing your forehead. “You’re very, very good at distracting me, Kitten. Too good.” He mumbles making you giggle.

He helps you up before rubbing at your reddened knees. You pull his pants back up as he sighs gently. He grabs his whisky glass before wrapping his hand around your wrist and pulling you over to the bed. He sits down on the edge, eyes opening wide as if he was trying to wake himself up. He pats the spot next to him and you sit with him for a moment before he is pulling you into his chest to coddle you. “I thought after the whole Kim Shin business we would find ourselves in an easier spot but everything is building up against.”

You nod against him, hearing his heart rate even out before running your fingers over his chest. You feel the defined pectoral muscles he’s been working hard to keep and you can’t help but look up at him as he sips from his glass of whisky. His Adam’s apple bobs and neck veins appear as he sips the alcohol. Small droplets of sweat run down his honey skin and you wipe at them making him smile. “Are you listening to me, Kitten? Or are you checking out your husband?” He teases before leaning back on his hands.

“Both.” You answer truthfully making him snort. You grab the glass of whisky before chugging the contents and setting it down on the floor. Your leg swings over his waist as you straddle him and his hands begin to caress your thighs. He gives a small chuckle before putting one arm underneath his head as he looks up at you. “Any problems we have, we can fix them together.” You tell him as your fingers begin to run over the plains of his abs.

“I know, baby. I just…” He exhales loudly before rubbing circles into your skin, “We have this whole Im business now. Unfortunately for their families they’re going to pay for their sins. Jeongguk is turning into a drunken, raging lunatic. Jin and your sister are just… I don’t have fucking words for them-” You giggle before nodding at his statement.

“But there are pluses too. Y’know? Yoongi and Hyunah getting married. Taehyung and Hyejin having their baby boy. Hoseok being a forever single bachelor. Namjoon is another forever bachelor.” You mumble, lifting your fingers to count the good things, Jimin laughs before smacking your thigh gently.

“I have so many people to protect and it’s getting to me, slowly but surely.” His eyes are filled with distress and you feel your heart clench before laying down on him. He wraps his arms around your waist as you bury your face into his neck. His cologne is wearing off, you find yourself thinking before you’re kissing over the marks you gave him just a few minutes ago. “Anything that happens, we’re a team. We’re Lions. We don’t let things get under our skin so easily.”

He nods before squeezing you tightly, “I just want us to be happy again. We didn’t have any problems before when Shin was in the play room and now that we know the Im’s killed your parents, I feel a storm coming.”

“At least they don’t know that we know.” He licks at his lips before kissing your temple, “At least they don’t know.”

The morning sun is the first thing that rouses you in the morning, before a gigantic boom jolts your body up. Jimin is quick to jump up before he’s grabbing his gun from underneath the pillow and cocking it.

“Hey Jimin!” He hears Namjoon yell loudly from downstairs and he curses quietly before ripping the door open. Your hand finds the side drawer before you’re pulling out your own pistol you’ve become fond of. Your feet follow after him, hand grabbing at the silk of your nightgown before rapidly descending the stairs. Your husband spares a glance in your direction before smirking. There is nothing hotter to him then seeing a gun in your hands. “What happened?!” He yells as another boom goes off.

The house shakes on its foundation before settling and you raise an eyebrow as you reach the entryway. “Jeongguk is… losing it.” Namjoon whispers before ushering you both towards the kitchen.

“Kitten, go upstairs.” You shake your head, following after him quickly as you walk through the sitting room. His jaw tightens before stopping in his tracks, the house shakes once more with a loud crash. “We have two children in this fucking house, go upstairs and watch the babies.”

You hear Jeongguk scream loudly before Namjoon is disappearing into the kitchen. Jimin knocks his forehead to yours before kissing you gently. “Now.”

You sigh gently before nodding, “Good girl.”

Jimin is quick to run down the underground tunnel, face grimacing as the soles of his feet become grimy with dirt. There’s another boom and his ears begin to ring before furrowing his eyebrows. He reaches the double doors of the old distillery and he watches as smoke lazily exits Yoongi’s mouth before drifting up towards the ceiling. “He’s been like this for an hour already.” Yoongi tells his boss.

Jimin peaks in before sighing gently, he watches his friend since childhood light another stick of dynamite before throwing it into an old distiller. His hair is dirty, his moustache and beard beginning to grow. “Guk!” He yells before the boom shakes the floor beneath him.

“Why didn’t you stop him?!” Jimin calls to the older black haired man who pulls from his cigarette. “I’m getting married soon, I’m not dying for his dumbass. Hyunah would sooner cut my dick off.” Jimin uncocks his gun, before walking into the room. He holds his hands out as he approaches the youngest.

“Hey, Guk. What’re you doing man?” He doesn’t get a response as Jeongguk holds up the old stick of dynamite. “This shit has been here since the early 1900’s can you believe it still works?”

The youngest sounds absolutely exhausted, voice slurred with both tiredness and alcohol. Jimin holds out his hand before looking up at him as he gets closer. “Give me the dynamite. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Guk chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh. Hyung. If only it was that easy. Look.” He lights the dynamite before dropping it between the both of them. Jimin’s mouth falls open before jumping at Jeongguk and knocking him away from the explosion. “What’re you fucking crazy?!” He screams as he pulls him behind the metal still.

The dynamite goes off and Jimin buries Jeongguk’s head into his chest as the explosion shakes the room. Clouds of grey smoke wafts through the room before the smell of burning enters everyone's nose. Jimin throws Jeongguk to the floor before putting his knees to his chest. “See. I can’t hurt myself.”

Jimin grits his teeth before smacking the youngest hard across the face, he groans loudly before his head lolls back. “Again, again.”

The head of the Lions Den yells out in frustration before gripping onto Jeongguk’s black hoodie and shaking him. “You need to stop this! You’re going crazy! I can’t keep you around my kids if you act like this!”

Guk scoffs before shoving Jimin off of him, “I would never hurt the babies. Please.” He mumbles before standing up, “You’re becoming self destructive and a drunk. You need to get yourself in check, Guk. Or you’ll be going into the playroom.” He stiffens before looking down at Jimin who puts his head back to the large metal still.

“How fucking dare you ever say that to me.” He seethes at his older brother, Jimin shrugs at a loss before putting his hands through his hair. “You better get yourself in check. I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself. Next time you do some stupid shit like this, you’re going into the playroom for some hard self reflection.”

Jeongguk shakes his head before laughing, “You can’t leave me alone with her. You can’t.”

Jimin lifts his head slowly before narrowing his eyes, “Leave you alone with who?”

“Lee. She’s everywhere, all the time.” His hands shake as he fixes his hoodie. Oh, so he was going insane. Jimin puts his head back out of frustration before sighing, “Guk, I need you back by my side! I need you to be my right hand man again. You can’t keep going this way, you’re destroying yourself.”

Jeongguk purses his lips before pulling a bottle out of his hoodie. “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” He murmurs before walking towards the tunnel. “Take his car keys away!” Jimin yells before standing up, he smacks his forehead into the metal still before clicking his teeth. Things are becoming a downward spiral inside of this fucking house and he needs it to end.

Heels clack on the marble floor of the casino entrance. You take off your sunglasses as the staff welcome you with a bow. You spot Kirsoon in an ill fitting red vest and you sigh gently. “Kirsoon.” You call to him and his head shoots up to look at you.

“Yes Madam.” You curl your index finger before pointing to the spot in front of you. He scurries over and you hold your hand out to Yoongi who raises an eyebrow. He wordlessly reaches around before grabbing his gun and placing it in your hand. Kirsoon visibly shudders before bowing his head to you. You take in his demeanor, scared and large before you’re handing him the gun. “Take off that fucking vest and get behind me.”

His head raises before he’s smiling. “Yes ma’am.” He grimaces at the red vest before ripping it off, displaying his strength. He steps around you before looking at Yoongi with a twinkle in his eye. Yoongi pats the tall man's arm before lighting a cigarette.

The entrance to the casino was filled with upwards of fifty staff members and you find it hard to keep track of all their faces. “We’re going to have a family meeting.” You tell them before putting your sunglasses in your purse.

You walk past them, fingers brushing along the brass, ornate bird cages that litter the hallways before entering the casino floors. You casually weave through tables for blackjack, craps, roulette- you name it, you’ve probably got it. Your hand drifts over the green felt of a poker table before you jump up on it and cross your legs.

You watch the staff file in before folding your arms, eyes scanning over your hard workers before clearing your throat. “We work hard, yes?” You call out to them.

“Yes, ma’am!” You hum pleased at the voracious volume.

“We’ll continue to work hard, yes?” You hum again at their answer before running your fingers over the felt table. “We’ve been open for two months and have made more money than any casino in the entirety of Seoul. Why is that?”

You look around as everyone stays silent before your eyes fall on the familiar girl that resembles a maid you once cared for.

“Hawon’s sister, Rina. Why is that?” She lifts her head before fixing her ponytail, “Because we work hard?” Her voice is feeble and it makes you smile.

“That’s right, because we work hard and we’re the best at what we do. So to congratulate you all on working so hard, you will all be getting a gift of a raise.” You can see small smiles and determined head nods before you hear Yoongi clear his throat.

“Now that the fun stuff is out of the way, in a month we’re going to be having a Casino Night. One that goes far beyond the hours of our normal days. The theme is Roaring Twenties. There will be special admission for certain guests only. It’ll be like a family gathering.” Some staff open their mouths before nodding and you smile at them before hopping off of the poker table. “Get back to work.” You call to them before walking towards your office.

You sit down at the glass desk before Rina enters with a glass of champagne. You hum in appreciation for her kindness before pointing at the velvet armchair in front of your desk. “Casino...night?” Yoongi asks before lighting a cigarette.

“Oh yes, casino night.” You mumble before grabbing a manilla folder from your top drawer and handing it to Kirsoon, you nod to Rina and he gives her the folder. You sip your champagne before leaning back in your office chair. She opens the folder, eyebrows raised with curiosity. Pictures of the Im’s grace her eyes and Yoongi begins to smirk.

“These are the very special guests that will be coming to Casino Night. Rina will take extra care to provide everything they need. Won’t you, Rina?” She closes the folder before smiling widely.

“Yes, Madam.”

“Good girl.” She hands the folder back before bowing her head and leaving the office.

Yoongi jumps into the armchair, legs swinging over the arm before putting his head back. “Why’re we doing this instead of just murdering them in front of their homes?”

You smirk before looking at Kirsoon as he sits down in the second armchair. Your hands fold as you lean your elbows on to the table. “Kirsoon, you know of me, yes?” He nods to you, hands folding in his lap.

“What’s my motto?”

“You get more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.” You pick up your champagne glass before looking at Yoongi with a wide smile, “Get more flies.”

#the lions den #bts series #bts smut #bts fluff #bts mafia au #mafia!jimin x reader #mafia!jimin x you #btswriterscorner #btscreatorscorner #the bird cage #bts angst #mafia!au #jimin #taehyung #jeongguk #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #seokjin

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Text

Gift (Indruck)

A second fill for @crepuscularlives

16. we didn’t read the invitation that said this party was formal so we’re in our ugly christmas sweaters. SFW

Duck’s fully prepared for Aubrey, and maybe even Mama, to tease him for his Newton family christmas sweater. When he gets to the Lodge to find everyone dressed swanky, he thinks it’s some sort of elaborate prank. He decides to ask Barclay, since he tends to be less invested in pranks than the others.

“Uhhh” Barclay points to a stray invite, “it said formal, see? We thought a change of pace would be fun.”

“Fuck. I just came straight from a family thing, didn’t think it’d matter.”

Barclay pats his shoulder with a warm smile, “Don’t worry about it, man, it’s not like anyone’s gonna toss you out for it.”

Duck grumbles something about not wanting to stick out as he turns, and spies an even uglier sweater across the room. It’s bright green and fire-engine red with, covered in old-school colored bulb christmas lights, blinking like fireflies.

Somehow, it suits Indrid perfectly.

The Sylph waves when we spots Duck, coming over to join him by the drinks table.

“Hello Duck, I’m glad this is the future where you’re here.” He ladles himself a mug from one of the two crockpots of eggnog.

“Howdy, ‘Drid. Glad I ain’t the only one who went for the ugly sweater vibe.”

Indrid cocks his head, “This is the nicest thing I own.”

Duck groans, reaches up to hide behind a hat that isn’t there.

Indrids smile widens, “I’m joking. It was a, ah, what do always call it...ah yes, a goof.”

He laughs, relieved, “Jesus, you got me good.”

“It’s payback for the time you convinced me that squirrels were carnivorous.”

Duck snickers at the memory of Indrid, in his moth form in the woods, eyeing the squirrels warily.

He joins Aubrey, Thacker, and Dani by the fire, and Indrid wanders over to oin them, taking a seat next to Duck when the human scoots over to offer him it. Thacker talks about the library and the regrowing cities, and Indrid’s face turns wistful. Duck suspects only he can see it, Indrid’s glasses showing enough of his eyes from the side to make emotions clearer.

(Indrid always sits across from people. The last few times they’ve met up, he sits next to Duck).

In spite of only some gentle ribbing about his clothes, he keeps picking at the sleeve of the sweater. It’s a little itchy, and he could have worn that nice green shirt with the pine tree tie that he likes. And every time he catches a glimpse of himself in a window, he’s back in space, watching an evil hivemind recreate it’s pattern on a mimic of his sister.

“Is it bothering you a lot?” Indrid murmurs.

“N-no, uh, I, uh, just, fuck, it’s nothin,” He stops talking, flees Indrid’s red stare to refill his cider. He pauses to talk with Kirby and Ned, is looking around the room for a new spot to sit (and for Indrid), only for a tan hand to wave him into a hallway.

“Here, try this.” Indrid ties a discarded gift ribbon around his wrist, and he’s no longer looking down at the wool sweater and jeans. He’s in a deep gray suit, with a green shirt and a silver tie.

“Holy shit. Wait, do I look-”

“-different? No, I left your physical form intact. I can make disguises of different magnitudes. A simple clothing swap is easily done. And I, ah, I did not want you to spend a night with friends lost in frightening memories.”

Duck’s about to thank him when the words sink in.

“There was a future where you told me. I, ah, you’ve mentioned what you saw at Reconciliation before, but not that detail.”

“Wasn’t scared so much as pissed.” Duck glances at his shoes, now well-shined loafers.

“Understandable. And useful; the odds were not in your favor, believe me. But well-timed anger can change the course of fate. Just as choosing mercy--even when others urge for violence--can. Punching me also reset fate rather dramatically.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

Indrid’s smile is small, and stunningly fake, “It was for the best. I’m going to get some more nog. Would you like some?”

“Nah, still gotta finish this. But I do wanna try some of that salmon dip.”

“In true bear fashion.” Indrid’s smile turns genuine when Duck snorts and elbows him.

They talk and mingle with their friends, Indrid making frequent returns to the nog bowl. Duck steps outside for air, comes back and spends a moment watching Indrid by the fire. Stern notices him, steps away from an animated conversation with a ghostly Boyd about art forgery to join him.

“Quite the dapper costume change.”

“Thanks. ‘Drid did it for me.”

Stern follows Duck’s gaze, then casually sip his wine, “Have you told him yet?”

“Told, uh, told him what?”

“Duck, you spend more time with him than almost anyone else.”

“Half my friends live on another planet now.”

“And every time you look at him, your smile changes. His does too. According to Barclay, he talks about you like you’re the most fascinating thing on earth. Right, love?” He kisses Barclay’s cheek as the cook joins them.

“Yep.”

There’s a crash as Indrid loses his balance and knocks over a lamp, which Aubrey freezes mid-air.

“Shit, he’s hammered.” Barclay sounds surprised.

“How much rum did you put in the nog?” Duck doesn’t remember the sip he had from Indrid’s cup tasting that strong.

“I made two batches, one with booze and one without. Indrid was drinking the non-spiked one earlier. Wonder when he switched.”

“About the time Duck changed clothes.”

“...How did you not catch us durin the Pine Guard days again?”

Stern smiles, “Barclay can be very distracting when he wants to be. And none of you have ever asked exactly how much I worked out.”

He has a point. As does Barclay when he points out that Indrid should have someone take him home after the party.

When Duck offers him a ride, Indrid chirps excitedly, bonks his forehead on the roof of the car, and climbs in. By the time they get back to the ‘Bago, Duck knows he can’t just leave Indrid here.

“You’re staying?” Indrid bounces on the bed as Duck turns on the space heaters.

“Just ‘til you sober up. I’ll stay out in the main cab so you can sleep.”

Indrid lets out a chirr that intensifies when Duck slips the ribbon from his wrist. It almost sounds perturbed.

“I mean, uh, I can go if you really need me to.”

Indrid shakes his head, barely managing to get his shoes off before burrowing under to covers, “Please stay as long as you want.”

Duck nods, excuses himself to use the bathroom, and comes back to Indrid chirp-snoring into the pillows. He’s such a cute, weird man. Duck will just sit down a second to make sure he doesn’t wake up and need something.

The one small seat is taken up by a binder, which opens when Duck lifts it. Instead of the expected paper avalanche, he finds drawings, each in their own plastic slip. He flips through it as he settles in the chair. Interspersed with the drawings are papers labeled in one or two two words of Sylph, and Duck reverse engineers their likely meanings from the images that follow them. The section with all the plants and animals must be “nature,” the one with parties and state fairs “events.” There’s even a section that’s all elements of winter holidays; the Rockefeller tree with decorations that suggest the 1930s, a menorah in a window, candles on the table of a house that’s seen better days. Towards the back is a section that has to be “friends.” There are one or two people who appear in images with Indrid. Including the kind that make Duck quickly turn the page. The further he gets in that section, the more familiar faces he sees; Barclay, Aubrey, Jake, Ned.

He sees himself, returning from saving the world, battered but alive.

“The odds were not good”

Tucked at the very back of the section, between the final empty pages and the binder, is a folded paper. Curious, Duck opens it.

It’s him. With Indrid. They’re on Indrid’s tiny bed, kissing.

God that looks nice.

Startled by his own thoughts, he tucks the picture back into the binder and sets the whole thing on the floor. Decides one of the paperbacks strewn on the floor is a better way to occupy himself then accidentally finding more personal images.

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

The world is ending, everything is ripping away into the sky, everything he’s fought for is gone. He failed. He didn’t want a destiny, and he’s failed the fucking thing anyway and it’s all gone and there’s no future for him now but to be torn into ash-

“Duck, Duck wake up”

He jolts, whams his head into the wall of the very intact Winnebago at the edge of the still standing Monongahela while a very alive, now-sober Indrid leans over him.

“Owfuck.”

“Oh, oh no, I’m sorry, you were very clearly having a nightmare and I figured you’d like it to stop.”

“Yeah” He rubs his head, “yeah I did. Thanks. Sorry if I woke you up.”

“Given that in many futures our positions were reversed, I don’t have a lot of room to complain about someone shouting in their sleep.” Indrid sits down on the floor next to the chair, stays silent as Duck coaxes his breathing to even out. A hand hesitates in the air, then touches his arm, rubbing it reassuringly.

No one else saw it. Not even Minerva or Leo, the only people who could understand the horror of seeing a thing unfold with scant chances of stopping it.

Indrid’s hand brush lightly over his own before returning to his arm.

No, not the only people.

“Indrid, can I ask you somethin?”

“Of course.”

“The day we let The Quell through and saved the worlds did you, uh, did you see what woulda happened if Aubrey hadn’t blown the gate apart?”

“Yes.” The reply is quiet.

“Do you, uh, still see it sometimes?”

“Now and then, but I have far more bad timelines in my mind, and more failures in my past, for my nightmares to draw upon than you do. That is half the reason I drank so much tonight. Around the time of the winter solstice, my nightmares increase in frequency and intensity, Sylvain only knows why. Sometimes substances dull that.”

“Oh, ‘Drid.” Duck turns in the chair. Indrid’s gaze stays straight ahead, but his fingers shred a nearby scrap of paper.

“The irony is, I love this time of year on Earth, in spite of the chill. I love the winter holidays, the gathering of warmth and light to hold one over until the spring returns. But my enjoyment of it is dampened by the workings of my powers and mind.”

“Fuck, guess I oughta count myself lucky I only got a few bad visions to remember.” The joke falls flat, and Indrid glances at him.

“That vision is nothing to laugh at. I’m glad you had it all the same, glad you triumphed and survived.”

“Woulda really sucked to accept my destiny only to fail at the last fuckin second.”

He shuts his mouth to stop the next thought from escaping; Indrid doesn’t need to know that he sometimes fears that everything he’s done and wants to do now that fate is no longer hanging a talking sword over his head will somehow be hollow.

“You were so much more than your destiny, Duck Newton. You still are.”

The sincerity, half-obscured in shadow and red lens, is too much. He doesn’t know what to say, or if he should say anything at all.

“Guess, uh, guess you likin the holidays explains that section in the binder.”

“Yes. Wait. Did, ah, did you look through the whole thing?” Fear slips into his voice.

“Uhhuh.”

“Even the, ah, the last page?”

“Yep. Some real beautiful drawin’s in there. Some mighty interestin ones too.”

Indrid nervously taps his fingers together, “Since you are about to ask, that future took place shortly after the cottonwood. You, you came by to apologize for punching me and to tell me you were glad I was alright and, and ask me to stay in Kepler and when I asked why, you did that. Just one little kiss. That’s as far as I got before the timelines changed. It’s, it’s alright, of course, that’s how timelines work, and you did eventually apologize.”

He did, two or three separate times, and each time Indrid brushed it off, insisting it was what needed to be done.

Duck sinks to the floor, turns on his knees to bring them face to face.

“What are you-” Indrid stiffens as Duck gingerly pushes up his glasses. He’s never seen Indrid’s face like this, uncovered but still human, and it takes all the air from his lungs.

“Which eye did I hit?”

Indrid touches the right side of his face. Duck tips forward, balancing his fingers on Indrids thighs, and kisses the corner of his right eye.

“There. Now it’s a real apology.” He whispers in Indrid’s ear, close enough that faint, hopeful chirps reach him. He moves a few inches down and over, lips the barest strip of air away from Indrid’s own.

“You, you don’t have to. Just because something appears in a future doesn’t mean it’s fated to happen.”

“What if I want it to happen?”

Indrid surges forward, cupping Duck’s face. His kisses re feather-light and sweeter than nectar, and Duck wants to drink them down, knows that after this taste he’ll never be full.

“Duck I, h, I want” Indrid clings to him, his words turning to chirps nd clicks, as he’s so overwhelmed by a little kissing.

“Want me to keep, uh, ‘apologizin?”

“So very much.”

“Then take me to bed, darlin.”

The instant they hit the bed Indrid pulls Duck atop him, fingers fawning over his body as he kisses him over and over. When they stop to catch their breath, Duck remembers something,

“‘Drid, what was the other half of the reason you got drunk?”

“A problem of my own making. I did not foresee just how you would look in your suit, and I was trying to avoid an, ah, embarrassing bodily response. Alcohol helps my kind of Sylph in that regard.”

Duck chuckles, nips Indrid’s lower lip, “want me to put it back on?”

“Not just yet.”

“Want me to kiss you ‘til we fall asleep?”

“More than I’ve wanted anything for Christmas in a long time.”

Duck kisses him, keeps teasing their lips together as he murmurs, “then consider me your resent, darlin.”

#indrid cold/duck newton #indruck #winter fills #taz amnesty

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shining-red-diamond · 3 years

Text

Shallow Waters (Part 1)

Words: 2.5k

Pairing: Hendery x Brittany (OC)

Rating: PG-15

Genre: fluff, some angst

Warnings: mentions of abandonment, illness, and

A/N: Banner credits to @dearyongs

Summary: When Brittany met a merman named Hendery, little did she know her life was going to change. Not only do they fall in love, learn about each other’s worlds, and create a life for themselves; but there’s also a mystery surrounding Hendery that could potentially put both of their lives in danger.

Sipping on her strawberry lemonade, Brittany was zoned into her book. The summer sun brightened up the beach in her backyard, a gentle breeze kept the weather cool, and she was relaxed on her lounge chair on her porch. Brittany hummed a tune as she read, a habit she had ever since she was young. In her mind, it was offered as background music whenever she read one of her books.

Little did she know that her voice had caught the attention of a certain inhabitant of the ocean. Hendery had seen her and wanted to talk to Brittany since she moved to an isolated area in the Florida Keys about six months earlier. Multiple humans had come and gone to where he roamed, but something about Brittany reeled him as if she were a magnet for him. He was a little on the shy side, but he had finally worked up the courage to talk to her. Explaining that he was a merman would be difficult, but he hoped she would understand.

As soon as she had walked inside of her house with the empty glass in her hand, Hendery took advantage of her distraction to sneak onto her porch. He was intending on standing there to wait for her until he noticed the book she was reading. The cover had gold lettering centered at the top, and an elaborate picture of a human boy in round glasses trying to catch a small, spherical object while riding some sort of flying object was printed under the lettering. Hendery couldn’t read human writing, but from the cover he could tell it was an adventurous story. He quickly flipped through pages, but there were mostly words. Only a few pictures showed up on certain pages.

As soon as Brittany returned outside, she immediately jumped at the sight of a strange, young man with jet black hair standing on her porch and flipping through her book. The shock caused her to nearly drop her drink.

“Who are you?” she asked him, keeping a distance in her startled state. “What do you want?”

Hendery tried to speak, but he didn’t know how to speak human either. He’d picked up a few words here and there, but all he could do was make little squeals and dolphin sounds and use his body to explain what he was thinking. The only thing he could get out was his name.

“H-Hendery,” he introduced himself as he pointed at himself.

“Is that your name?” Brittany asked, and he nodded. “I’m Brittany.”

“Brittany,” Hendery repeated with a smile.

She noticed the book in his hands. “Oh, do you like Harry Potter? I’m rereading the series.”

“Can’t read.”

“Oh…” she paused before changing the subject. “May I ask where you came from?”

Hendery pointed to the ocean, but Brittany just chuckled. “Very funny.”

He used his body language to insist that he was from the ocean, and by the look of sincerity on his face Brittany could tell that he wasn’t joking.

“Oh, are you a sailor?” she raised an eyebrow. Hendery shook his head.

He then took the book out of her hands, set it on one of the lounge chairs and had her follow him to the beach.

“Dude, where are we going?”

Once her toes were touching the edge of the shoreline, Hendery stripped his shirt and shorts off before instructing her, “Wait.” Before she could say anything, he was dashing to the water before Olympic-style diving into the ocean. An iridescent glow where Hendery dove nearly blinded Brittany for a second before he dolphin-jumped out of the water again. A flash of purple where his legs should be had sparkled in the sunlight.

Brittany couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

A merman? A real merman?

She shut her eyes and pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. When she opened them, Hendery was sitting there on the beach, staring at her with confusion on his face.

Brittany could see his tail much clearer now. It was scaly, and each one was a beautiful purple and gold monochrome that also turned black in some angles. They faded into skin where the bases of his hips were.

“There’s no way this is real right now,” Brittany chuckled. “I must have hit my head. I’m dreaming.”

Hendery shook his head, and whispered, “Real.”

If she had already pinched herself once, she did it again but without this man knowing.

When she accepted that she wasn’t dreaming, she knelt down and asked, “May I touch them?”

Hendery had never been touched by a human much less any female creature. He hesitated a little, but he obliged. Taking her hand, he set to where he figured his shins would be.

“Gentle,” he begged.

“I will,” she promised.

Her fingertips carefully stroked his tail up and down, and the scales were smooth as a marble slab table with the exception of the gaps lining each one.

“Mermaids are real,” she whispered to herself.

“Yes,” Hendery replied.

Brittany faced him and promised, “I’ll keep it a secret if you want me to.”

“Please.”

“Okay. Can you turn human again? I can get you a towel to dry off with and something to eat if you’re hungry.”

Hendery nodded.

“I’ll be right back,” she said before rushing back into her house.

Lying there on his side, he watched as her slender legs carried her when she ran. Every inch of her was sketched into his brain: her flaming red hair, her eyes the color of the sea, and an hourglass figure like a mermaid’s. Hender was an observer, and as much as he watched her from afar some days, Brittany seemed like a kind person just from her actions. If she really was the most beautiful woman in the world to him, then it was definitely coming from her heart.

Brittany soon returned with a towel and his clothes that were abandoned on the beach, and he sat up a bit straighter. She helped him scoot away from the water to dry off properly. Hendery pat himself down, as he had done many times before with any absorbent cloth, and within a few seconds his tail split in a vertical line so delicately as clay being sliced in half with an invisible knife. His tail and scales melted into legs and feet, but Brittany quickly handed him his clothes before she saw too much.

“Thanks,” he smiled as she turned away to give him privacy as he dressed himself.

After Hendery was fully clothed, Brittany turned back around and asked him, “Would you like to come inside?”

“Inside?” he repeated.

“The house. I’m getting hungry, so I want to eat something for lunch.”

“Food?” Hendery’s eyes lit up as he smiled, showing off his sharp teeth.

Brittany nodded. She had heard of some merfolk having such sharp teeth, but her new friend’s teeth were like sharks. They nearly startled her as it was such a shock for her to see.

She breathed deeply to calm down. “What do you like?” she asked him as she guided him to her back porch.

“Fish.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” she smiled as she opened the door. “I’ve got plenty.”

Brittany’s house was the most beautiful thing Hendery had never seen in his life. It was all so clean and tidy with most of the furniture having a soft navy fabric on some of the human furniture. It was his first time inside of a human house, so he took in everything his eyes could see.

In the kitchen, there was a wooden table with six chairs, and a large kitchen island stood right in the center (he had seen human billboard ads kitchen ware of some place called “Home Depot”). Two metallic doors were built into one wall, and a sink was placed beneath a window. The cabinets were also a beautiful wooden, and Hendery was impressed at how clean Brittany kept it.

“Pretty,” he mumbled as he sat at the table.

“All I have is salmon,” Brittany interrupted his thoughts. “How do you like them? I just learned how to debone and prepare them.” She set out a wooden board on the island and placed three raw salmon fish on it.

Hendery looked at the fish for a few seconds before picking one up with his bare hands and chomping down on its head with his sharp teeth. He ripped the head off in the process, a few fish scales sprinkling onto the counter.

“That answers that question,” giggled Brittany. “Raw it is.”

As he ate, Brittany fixed herself a BLT sandwich and a glass of the remaining pink lemonade. She tore off a couple paper towels for her new friend and herself. Hendery raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“To clean off your hands and mouth,” she explained as she gave a small demonstration, and he nodded before continuing his lunch.

Brittany observed the way he was chowing down on the raw fish. It was as if he hadn’t eaten in a long time, and seeing how loosely the unbuttoned shirt hung on his body she could almost make out a couple of ribs poking out from his sides.

“Thanks,” Hendery said as he wiped his hands and mouth with the paper towel.

“You’re welcome,” she smiled. “Don’t worry about the scales. I’ll clean it up.”

Hendery nods. His eyes then casually wander around her house.

“It’s not much, but I like it.”

“Pretty,” the merman repeated himself from earlier, now poking at the faucet. He jumped when water automatically showered out.

Brittany chuckled as she tossed her empty plate into the sink. “You haven’t seen much of what humans do, have you?”

Hendery shook his head. “Little.”

“A little.” Brittany thought for a moment. She knew he couldn’t form full sentences, but she knew he was smart. Hendery was curious, and from the way he observed everything Brittany could tell he wanted to learn. A light bulb went off in her head.

“How about this?” she said. “I work in the mornings, but every afternoon you can come by and I’ll teach you how to read and talk.”

“Talk? Read?” Hendery’s eyes were lighting up. No human had ever offered to teach him to speak a language before. Sure, he understood hundreds of languages, but for whatever reason he lacked the ability to try to form a proper sentence. All he spoke to his friends were by different voice patterns and ocean soundwaves.

“Everything,” Brittany promised. “Just come knock on my back door and we’ll begin.”

Hendery nodded. Taking her hand in his, he pressed a gentle kiss to it. “Tomorrow?” he begged.

“Tomorrow.”

It was a Friday afternoon when Hendery began his reading and writing lessons with Brittany. She was an excellent teacher as her college degree was in elementary education, but she stuck with tutoring young children who needed phonics and spelling help in school. Hendery was no different from them in terms of learning the different phonics, vowels, and consonants. The first lesson was just the basics of the alphabet and what sound each one made. Flashcards with pictures and the letter, such as “M” for milk, were easy for Hendery to follow. The lessons did get harder with each lesson every day for about a month and a half, but Brittany taught him that practice and application are key in having the lessons stick in his brain. Of course, he got frustrated whenever he couldn’t get a syllable or pronounciation correct, but Brittany pushed him to do his best. Before long, Hendery was forming proper sentences to get his thoughts across to her.

“Okay, so as a final test,” Brittany concluded after their final lesson one Tuesday afternoon, “tell me about an adventure you’ve had in the ocean.”

“What story does Brittany want to hear?” Hendery asked. He had grown a habit of speaking in third person. Brittany had taught him first and third person point-of-view, but he liked speaking in third. She didn’t mind it a bit.

“Did you meet any other mermaids or mermen?”

Hendery shook his head as his smile dropped. “Hendery was abandoned when he was small.”

“What happened?” Brittany wasn’t expecting his answer to be so grim.

“He was too small and weak. His stomach couldn’t hold down anything his father gave him. Only fish.”

“Oh…” Her fingernails tapped on the table in a rhythm. “So, they just left you behind?”

He nodded again, but a grin came back to his face. “Hendery became friends with the sirens. They took him in, fed him, taught him to swim, hunt, and to communicate through sound.”

“Sirens?” Brittany repeated. “How many mythical creatures are out there that are real?”

“The Kraken is not real. The only octopus and squids that exist are only slightly taller than a human man.”

Brittany was now curious. She had only grown up hearing fairy tales about the mythological beings of the deep blue, but she always brushed them off as nothing more than stories. Now, that Hendery had entered into her life, she wanted to know which ones existed and which were hoaxes.

“Tell me more,” she begged as she pushed the notes for the lesson aside. “I want to know everything.”

“Is Brittany sure?” he teased. “There’s a lot of dangerous ones that could be harmful.”

“That’s what makes it exciting, and I know the perfect spot for us to talk.”

“Where?”

“Come with me,” she motioned with her finger, and Hendery followed her out the back door.

“But Hendery and Brittany have relaxed here already,” he whined.

Brittany giggled and took his hand. “Not here, silly. We have to walk and swim a little ways.”

Hendery got excited and held on to her hand tighter as she pulled him along. It was about a three minute walk before they came close to a pier stretching out in the ocean. The pier was nothing fancy, just a place where fishermen could come relax and catch a meal. Most of the time, it was empty mainly because it was a more isolated area. However, the two jumped into the water (Brittany had stripped her clothes off in the house, revealing a royal blue halter top bikini) and quietly swam underneath the bridge to avoid being noticed by two fishermen throwing their lines at the end of the pier.

Once they were far enough, the two of them crawled out of the water and onto the beach area. They decided to just naturally dry off in the sunshine, but it was a little chilly as the breeze kissed their skin.

“Hendery and the sun will keep you warm,” the merman offered, seemingly unbothered by the cool winds. Brittany just nodded in compliance and allowed him to wrap his arms around her waist as they sat down.

Leaning back against his chest, she immediately felt the warmth he gave off. Not only was the warmth nice and comfortable, but being held by her new friend likes this made her feel good inside. She could feel her cheeks turn as red as a firetruck, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted him to hold her forever, if he could. Hendery was discovering some new feelings for himself in that moment, and he knew deep down that he wanted to stay with his friend for as long as he lived.

“What does Brittany want to know?” Hendery asked, his voice cracking in shyness.

Tagging: @fantasywayv @ezralia-writes @queen-of-himbos @daybreakx @the32ndbeat @mafia-nct @philosopher-of-fandoms @neocitybyday @dreamystuffers @jaekissd Let me know it you wanna be tagged or removed

#kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #nct-writers #kdiner #kpopscape #kpopficsnetwork #wayvwritersnet #nctcreations #neothestarsnet #nct #wayv #wayv hendery #wong kunhang #nct x oc #wayv fluff #wayv angst

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